And so his mission loomed before him, gigantic and possibly insurmountable, just like Mystrian fauna. If he failed, many would expect him to use the pistol to blow his own brains out. It would be the honorable thing to do, after all. Wouldn't be proper to have the family's name besmirched by his failure.
They'd expect me to take a gentleman's way out. Owen laughed to himself. And then would claim I'd never been a gentleman at all. In fact, if his uncle had the means to do it, the story would be changed so that a Ryngian assassin had killed Owen. The tale would ennoble his death, allowing Owen to enhance the reputation of a family that had little earthly use for him.
No matter what I do, the Duke will find a way to make it serve his purpose.
Owen laughed again, the sound disappearing into the forest. Since his uncle would turn anything to his advantage, Owen needed to make sure he succeeded well enough that it benefited him and Catherine as well. Only then could he escape his uncle's influence and find true happiness.
He slid the pistol back into the saddle scabbard and looked over Temperance from the hill above it. It struck him that perhaps this new world-so far away from and alien to his uncle-would give him the chance he'd not ever had before. Catherine was certain of it. He chose to believe in her dream, and that had him smiling all the way back into town.
Night had fallen by the time he reached the Guards' headquarters. He slid out of the saddle, surprised. The building was shut up tight with no sign of life. There wasn't even a guard stationed nearby.
A young man detached himself from the shadows. "You'd be Cap'n Strake?"
Owen nodded. "And you are?"
"I'm to take you to your billet. Colonel Langford had your things delivered." The young man shrugged and began walking off along Generosity.
Owen ran after him and caught his arm. "Wait. Where is Colonel Lang-ford?"
"Don't know. Home, I imagine."
"And the guards?"
The man turned. Clean shaven, tow-headed, tall, a bit on the gangly side, he gave Owen a lop-sided grin. "Don't do things here quite as they might across the water."
"Meaning."
"Likely they's down to the Queen and Crown slaking a thirst." He turned again and started walking. "You'll be wanting to come along. Mother's got some supper for you."
Owen ran back, grabbed his horse's reins, but didn't climb into the saddle. He sensed this was what the man expected him to do. First rule of winning any fight was not to do what the enemy expected. He caught up with the young man after a short run.
"I've been billeted at your house?"
"Were it my house, you'd not be staying." The man slowed a bit so Owen could pull even. "It's my father's house."
"And your father is?"
"My father is the smartest and the most honest man in this here whole colony. You'll not be treating him like a servant. And you'll not be rude to my mother, you won't beat the young ones, and if you so much as look at my sister…"
"Sir, I am a most happily married man."
"Didn't seem to make no nevermind to t'others."
"So, if I look at your sister, you'll leave me for some jeopard?"
"No, I like jeopards." Despite the adamancy of the man's clipped reply, the hint of a smile crossed his face.
"I shall take it, sir, that I am not the first Queen's officer who has been a guest in your home."
"My father is thinking it's his duty to host officers."
"This guest, he was a noble who was arrogant and rude?"
"The last one, the one before that, and the two before that."
Owen chuckled.
"Being as how you think this is funny…"
"No, sir, I take your warning seriously." Owen forced his smile to broaden. "Those noble officers purchased their commissions. I earned mine on the battlefield. And I've seen Mystrians fight. I was impressed."
"Was you?" The man's eyes tightened, but he nodded.
"My name is Owen." He offered the man his hand.
The man hesitated, then did his best to crush it in a grip of surprising strength. "Caleb. Caleb Frost."
"Pleased to meet you, Caleb." Owen matched his grip firmly, pumped his arm, then freed his hand. He let Caleb see him flexing it. "If I could trouble you…"
Caleb arched an eyebrow.
"On my ride back from seeing the Prince, I encountered a beast, eight foot at the shoulder, dark brown, long legs, huge rack of antlers."
"Bowled or more like branches?"
"Bowled, with spikes coming off them."
"That's a moose, most like."
"'Most like?' There's more than one creature answering that description?"
Caleb laughed. "Have to wonder at the wisdom of the Crown."
"I beg your pardon."
"How is it they send you out here for scouting, and you don't know the first thing about Mystria?" Caleb slapped his thigh. "But you'll just be sitting on your tuffet here while others do your work, I 'spect. Just like the others."
"Did any of the other scouts ride out to see the Prince directly upon their arrival?"
Caleb's brow furrowed. "Don't recall them much leaving town."
"So, perhaps, I'm not much like them."
"Perhaps not."
Owen scowled. "So, how is it you know why I'm in Mystria?"
"It ain't as if the Ryngian war is any secret. What with them building forts to the west, we expected something would be done. But more to your point, Sergeant Major Hilliard told my father about you when he brought your things. And Cask and Branch been spreading it around that Langford has hired them to see you upriver. Easy work for them."
"What are you saying, sir?"
"Well, Captain Strake, it works this way." Caleb grinned broadly. "Colonel Langford pays Cask and Branch to guide some Norillian fop around. They take him out into some of the nastiest country they can find. The officer comes back, the boys go out hunting, trapping, trading. They talk to the Twilight People, get told what the Ryngians are doing, and that gets written up in the report. They include maps and the like, which is mostly worthless. And half the Twilight People trade with the Ryngians, so they're not inclined to be telling the whole truth, if you catch my meaning."
"But the Colonel has his duty."
"Sure, to himself. The trading Cask and Branch do is for him. He sends skins back under military impound. A friend in Norisle brokers them for him. No duty on them, you see. I hear tell he has a thousand pounds waiting for him in the City."
And Langford expects I will do the same as the others.
"Thank you, Caleb, for this information."
The Mystrian nodded. "So you'll be enriching yourself, too. Long as you treat my family right, it'll be soft duty."
"No, sir, I did not come here for soft duty."
Caleb shot him a sidelong glance. "You can say that now, Captain Strake, but the road to the Prince's estate, that is about as civilized as Mystria gets. Where you want to go, if there have been a dozen Norillians through there, I'll be surprised."
"But surely men have gone…"
"Mystrians, sure. Maybe a hundred." Caleb grinned glowingly. "Something for you to sleep on, Captain Strake. Norillians, maybe a dozen; and considerably less than that made it back alive."
Chapter Six
April 27, 1763
The Frost Residence, Temperance
Temperance Bay, Mystria
C learly Caleb meant to terrify Owen, but the words hadn't had quite that effect. Owen did not fear for himself. If what Caleb said was true, the wilderness remained truly uncharted. Specifically, the maps back at Horse Guards were worthless. If a strategy was being planned based on them, none of the details would be relevant. Any military expedition would be doomed.
Which makes my mission even more important.
Owen looked up, thinking to ask Caleb a question, but was struck by two things. The first was that a remarkable change had overcome his guide. Caleb had straightened up and moved more tightly-not nearly as loose-limbed and gangly as he had first appeared. He'd also tucked his shirt in, buttoned his coat, and had combed fingers through his hair. The transformation effectively disguised him as a gentleman.