Chapter 14
“Y ou rotten kids—watch where you’re running!” Grygg shouted as he half dangled out of the carriage window. “When I was your age, horses ran free in the streets, and they’d trample any tyke who wasn’t fast enough to avoid them!”
Wilford rapped Grygg on the back of the head with a walking stick.
“Careful there, or you’ll fall out and crack your silly nob open.
You’re not as young as you used to be, you know!
” He stroked the thick white beard the Department of Investigation had pasted to his face.
His mouth wasn’t visible, and the grizzled hair puffed up to his cheeks, screening all but his eyes—which were partially hidden by tinted glasses.
Grygg leaned back into the carriage, taking up half of the bench he sat on.
His hair was powdered white, and he was wearing spectacles so thick they enlarged his eyes, making him nearly unrecognizable between that and the scribe uniform the Department of Investigation had stuffed him in and thoroughly padded, ballooning his girth to at least triple its true size.
“I can hardly see in these things,” he grumbled.
Wilford dropped his walking stick so he could shove at some of Grygg’s excess padding.
“That’s the point. The Commander said this way we won’t move like soldiers—by the way, did anyone realize that implied Sir Arion thinks we move like soldiers?
I think that’s the nicest thing he’s ever said to us. ”
“No, no, there was that time he told us our uniforms looked decent.” Grygg brandished a finger at his friend, almost poking him in the face in the process.
Thad had his glasses—tiny and rectangular, which distorted his eye shape—pushed up on top of his head, nestled into his powdered-white hair as he reviewed the list of files Myth would be looking for. “…All of these dating back from the last five years—is that correct, Myth?”
“Yes,” Myth confirmed.
It seemedThad wasthe unofficial leader of the trio—though it was Grygg who had insisted she stop using their titles and had wrestled Myth’s nickname from her.
Thad nodded and passed the list back over to Myth, which was how he noticed the shoving match between Wilford and Grygg as Grygg attempted to smother Wilford with his rolls of padding. “You two need to stop that and get into character—we’re almost at the Fultons’ town house,” he said.
“It’ll be easy,” Grygg said. He was half-sittingon top of Wilford—who was struggling to push the padding up.
“We’re posing as the king’s most trusted—and oldest —aides.
All we have to do is act like our grandfathers and pretend we’re helping Myth when we actually appear to hinder her. Isn’t that right, Lady Translator?”
“Indeed.”Myth reached across the carriage and handed Wilford his walking stick. “I recommend using a lever.”
Wilford made a grunting noise, but he grabbed the walking stick and used it to hoist Grygg back to his side of the bench. Then he made a show of fixing his clothes—which hung so loosely over his frame it made him appear thinner—and adjusted his glasses. “Thank you, Myth, for the assistance.”
“We can’t make a mess of this.”Thad watched the scuffle with narrowed eyes, which disappeared behind hazed glasses as he put them back into place. “Might I remind you two that I have a wife I love very much whom I wish to return home to safely this night?”
Grygg and Wilford groaned together, leaning back on their bench seat.
“No, you don’t need to remind us about Evlawyn because you speak of her every hour of every day ,” Wilford groaned.
“We know she has ‘the sweetest laugh’, ‘the kindest heart’, ‘the most beautiful smile’, that she greets you every evening with a cup of stinkin’ tea, that she wears an apron embroidered with hearts when she makes you dinner…” Grygg listed, ticking each thing off on his fingers.
“There’s no need to get snippy about it.
” Thad raised his chin so high it nearly sent his nose poking into the carriage roof.
“It’s hardly my fault I’ve managed to find someone who makes my life a joy, fills it with color, and loves me deeply while the two of you stay alone—unmarried—and slip more and more into the darkness that is eternal bachelorhood. ”
Wilford brandished his walking stick in Thad’s direction. “Enough, you! We’re happy the way we are!”
“Yeah,” Grygg chimed in. “We’re plenty happy!”
“Is that why you were both so gleeful when you learned His Royal Highness’s translator was an elf maiden?” Thad asked.
“Now you’re just making us look bad!” Wilford complained.
Myth smiled. “I think both Captain Wilford and Captain Grygg are admirable men of a high caliber.”
“I told you to drop the titles,” Grygg said.
“And there’s no need to throw us scraps, Myth,” Wilford gloomily added. “Thad reminds us often of our singleness.”
“You are both still valiantand diligent,” Myth said. “Sir Arion believes so as well, or he would not have assigned you to His Royal Highness.”
Wilford sniffed. “Aww, thank you!”
“Yes, thank you, Myth. Youhave a heart, unlike some people.” Grygg glared at Thad, who shrugged. “And to assure you we’re not unsavory, we like you just fine. We just had different…hopes seeing how we were told you were single.”
“Then we saw you with His Royal Highness,” Wilford helpfully added. “And that hope flew the coop, screaming like an eagle.”
Myth paused in the middle of adjusting the lapels of her jacket. “What do you mean by that?”
“Oh!” Grygg had to roll himself upright, but due to his enlarged girth he almost tipped over again. “That reminds us! Since we’re friends now, do you have any friends you could introduce us to?”
“Single, female friends,” Wilford said.
Myth tilted her head in thought. “I suppose so?”
The two men brightened, but before they could say anything more the carriage rolled to a stop.
“It appears that we’re here,” Thad said.
There was an instant change over the lighthearted trio.
Gone were their sly prods and informal jokes.
Wilford hunched over, slightly curving his shoulders; Grygg lost his huge smile and instead put on a pinched expression with his eyebrows wrinkled and his nose drawn up; and Thad popped a wad of what looked like tree resin in his mouth and started chewing loudly.
By the time the carriage door swung open and a servant had lowered the steps, the trio looked believably like ancient scholars.
Myth peered through the window, studying the town house—which was narrow but deep, and shoved tightly between its neighboring homes.
An iron fence marked off the front yard, and already Myth could see glimpses of where the Fultons’ illegal profits had been put to use if the elven silk draperies that hung across the front windows were any indicator.
Wilford led the charge and went down the carriage steps, a believable wheeze escaping through his lips. When he reached the ground, he leaned heavily on his walking stick and peered up at the sky. “This really the place?”
“Out of the way, you old coot!” Grygg had to waddle down the stairs with his extra padding, and he almost knocked into Wilford.
“Who are you calling old coot?” Wilford demanded.
“Obviously you’re so old you can’t even recognize we’ve come to the wrong address,” Grygg heaved his belly up and started tottering up the sidewalk, heading for the neighboring house.
“Wrong way, man,” Wilford called. “You’re blind as a bat. You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“What did you say?” Thad poked his head out of the carriage, a leather satchel dangling from his gloved hands.
Wilford peered back at him through the thick lenses of his glasses. “I said he’s blind as a bat.”
“Eh?”
“ Blind as a bat !”
“No thank you, I’m full.” Thad stumbled down the stairs, his legs visibly shaking. When he reached the bottom stair, he chewed loudly and stared at the footman hurrying forward to help them. “This isn’t my house.”
“We’re not visiting your house, sir.” Myth, joining in the charade, spoke in a very loud and firm voice as she—agile in her translator pants and jacket—jumped the steps and rushed to steady Wilford before he almost tripped on the curb and fell down.
“His Royal Highness Crown Prince Arvel sent us to retrieve some documents, remember?”
“Eh?” Thad said.
Grygg was still making a break for the next-door neighbor’s house, so the footman hurried after him and got him turned around just as Lord Julyan emerged from his house.
“Welcome…representatives…?” he trailed off as the footman dragged a complaining Grygg back to their group, and Thad took tiny, shaky steps, bumping into Wilford, who querulously grunted and elbowed him.
“I say, watch where you’re going,” Wilford said.
“What?” Thad chewed his tree resin and squinted at Wilford.
“Ho, ho, I’ve found the right house!” Grygg said. “Sharp as a tack I am—nothing gets past me.” He walked straight into the fence, backed up with a great harrumph, then marched forward when the footman flipped the latch and opened the gate for him.
“Come along, sir.” Myth took Wilford’s arm. “Your services are needed inside.”
“Of course!” Wilford tried to draw himself up straight, but his shoulders were so hunched, he only succeededin nearly losing his walking stick.
Lord Julyan,dressed in a rich, green silken tunic, seemed puzzled by the general pandemonium, though after watching it for a few moments a smug smile twitched across his lips.
Excellent. He’s taken the bait. I was concerned we were overdoing it, but Arvel said we had to make it obvious.
“Good afternoon, Lord Julyan.” Myth bowed once the three “aides” had been corralled to the tiled patio just in front of the house’s main entrance.
“I am here on behalf of His Royal Highness Crown Prince Arvel to collect some documents on logs. My companions are three of His Majesty, King Petyrr’s, most trusted and senior aides. ”
“King Petyrr, long may he live!” Wilford declared.
“What?” Thad asked.