He shimmied down to where the shaft met the horizontal drain. Which direction led to the cistern? He groped around until his fingers brushed across a wire mesh, and he followed it to its framed edge. It must be on the cistern side. He felt along the frame, trying to determine what held the screen in place. Charlie almost laughed with relief when he realized it was held simply by hooks on the sides. He eased the screen up, leaving just enough room to squeeze through.
Bending and twisting, he maneuvered his legs and body into the other horizontal shaft until he was far enough in to slide down the right side headfirst. From the feel of them, the walls were normally slimy, but with no rain they’d dried up. He controlled his descent easily, occasionally scraping his knuckles on the stones. The total darkness was unnerving. He couldn’t even see his hands right in front of him.
Charlie went slowly, worried the noises might echo up and attract attention, until he came to an edge. There was an overflow drain along here somewhere, so he waved his arms around, trying to tell whether it was that or the cistern. A bit of heavy grit fell over the edge and splashed below. This was the right place.
He pulled his elbows in and slipped the first bottle from his vest. From his sleeve he produced a thin metal rod and pierced the wax seal. His hands shook as he poured the water out, spilling a bit on his fingers. When it was finally drained, he repeated the process with the second bottle. By the time he was done, he was dripping with sweat. He wiped his face with his damp sleeve before tucking the bottles away again.
His mission complete, Charlie inched backward until he was over the trench. He rotated his body in the small space and replaced the mesh screen. After he gave a soft whistle, his brother’s anxious face appeared above. Alex’s hands grasped him and pulled him up.
His brother set Charlie on his feet. After the darkness of the cistern, the hallway seemed bright. “Done?” the captain asked quietly.
Charlie was heady with a sense of accomplishment. “Done, sir.” He licked the sweat around his mouth and saluted before wiping his forehead on his sleeve.
Alex exhaled heavily and pulled him into an embrace. The gesture surprised Charlie, but he hugged his brother back, grinning. He couldn’t wait to tell the other boys back at camp he was a real spy.
48
SAGE HAD CURLED and colored her hair a bit red with one of the tonics in her trunk, feeling overdone but thinking it would help her blend in better with the ladies. She’d even stuffed the top of her dress and made an effort to cover her freckles with powder. While she and Clare gathered with the others outside the Great Hall, Lieutenant Casseck walked around the ladies, scanning faces.
Clare fidgeted beside her. “Would it be rude to ask His Grace about Sophia? I haven’t heard from her in months.”
“Perfectly appropriate,” Sage assured her. “His brother is married to your sister. That makes you family.” Silently she wondered what kind of influence Ash could wield to keep Sophia safe. Being married to a traitor wasn’t her fault.
Casseck passed them for the third time and stopped in his tracks. “Lady Sagerra?” he asked.
Sage smiled and held out her hand. “Good evening, Lieutenant.”
Casseck kissed her hand and then Clare’s. Any of the other ladies would’ve thrown a fit at being acknowledged second to Sage, but Clare didn’t mind. At that moment Darnessa appeared and whisked Clare to the front of the line to be presented to the duke, who stood just inside the main doors receiving guests, and Sage was left alone with Casseck.
“Is it too presumptuous to hope for a dance tonight, my lady?” Casseck asked.
Sage hesitated. Ash wouldn’t be here tonight, but surely he would hear about it from the other soldiers. She had to dance with somebody, however, and she rather liked Casseck.
As if reading her mind, the lieutenant smiled. “I’m sure Sergeant Carter won’t mind.”
Heat rose in her cheeks. Was she a source of teasing among his friends? “I’d be pleased to accept, Lieutenant.”
“I look forward to it.” He bowed and left, and Sage returned to waiting in line. The two ladies ahead of her glanced back before putting their heads together and whispering, but Sage was engrossed in the idea that Casseck hadn’t recognized her. A whole world of possibilities opened up if she could look different enough to fool people. She eyed the maids scurrying about on errands as the line inched forward. With so many retinues coming and going, an unknown servant wouldn’t attract attention.
The Great Hall was decorated with garlands of spring flowers imported from somewhere much warmer than Tegann, and rushes on the floor released sweet scents as they were trod upon by the multitude of guests. Tables off to the sides overflowed with meats, fruit, and pastries, which was all the more impressive to Sage as she knew just how far those things had to travel to get there. The ladies in front of her seemed oblivious to the splendor around them. Perhaps they were just used to riches and never gave a thought to where they came from.
The hall itself awed her with its size—the family living quarters of Broadmoor Manor could’ve fit inside without being stacked. It was a fairly recent addition to the fortress, constructed when the D’Amiran family was granted Tasmet as a dukedom forty years ago. Apparently over a hundred and fifty years of living in near exile hadn’t dampened their taste for opulence. The high stained-glass windows depicted scenes from the family’s history of uniting Demora into a single nation, though they left out the fight they’d picked with Casmun three hundred years ago, ruining trade relations. Their loss of the throne a hundred years after that was also omitted.
Sage had plenty of time to observe the duke while she waited to be presented to him, last of the ladies as usual. Morrow D’Amiran was over forty and blackened his beard and hair to give the illusion of youth, but his hands and forehead had the wrinkles of advanced middle age. She couldn’t deny he was handsome in a conventional sense. His facial features were well cut, and his teeth were straight and white. He hadn’t allowed himself to grow portly like Uncle William, and his manners were pleasing, but his crystal-blue eyes were cold and calculating. Sage curtsied low and focused on the floor as Darnessa introduced her.
“I don’t know of the Broadmoor family,” said the duke, holding on to her hand. “Where are your estates?”
“About a day north and west of Garland Hill, Your Grace,” Sage replied, unsure whether she wanted to be interesting to him, but deciding to err on the side of blandness. It took a great deal of control not to pull away from his soft but firm grip on her fingers.
“Her uncle is a minor lord, Your Grace,” put in the matchmaker. “He holds in trust everything belonging to her mother as her dowry.” It was a statement carefully designed to imply Sage had a greater rank and wealth than her guardian.