Time for Treason | One Quirk Later #5

My mum described this Quirk as "cute", so I'm satisfied. 

Mother's opinions are very important. That is all the intro I need.

Time for Treason

Casper swallowed against the sticky dryness in his mouth, and flicked his eyes open to a view of the ceiling in the gardeners’ winter storage shed. Huh. At least it wasn’t one of the back guest rooms again. Or the third wine cellar. 

The third wine cellar had mould. Which he’d been informed of previously, but the joys of first-hand experience were something quite different. 

“We can’t just walk him out of his own fancy do, though, can we. So we just wait here until—” 

There was a horrible prickling flavour mixed in with the flavour of the punch he’d drunk earlier. He coughed, closing his eyes for a moment in which to pull himself together. That… would explain why, although his head throbbed, there didn’t seem to be any injuries. A good thing, too, as he’d been informed that he couldn’t afford to lose any more wits to blows to the head. Still. To drug a man’s drink was hardly a pleasant start to a kidnapping. 

There was a scuffling from somewhere behind his head. “No, he’s awake—I have to—where did you put the mask, you fools—”

Ah. Donnis. The Councilman for Racing, Squid Fisheries and Bee Health. That was who he’d been talking to in the last memory he could scrounge up. The man had requested they withdraw to one of the alcoves to discuss a trade agreement for squid ink, away from the crowds of the ball; Casper had evidently neglected to keep his drink close enough to hand. 

He rolled onto his side, pushed himself up on one elbow, and managed to approximate a seated position, legs stretched out. Immediately, two things became apparent. Firstly, only his hands were tied, and not even behind his back. Secondly, his bowtie was undone, his shirtfront was creased, and his entire jacket was covered in a fine layer of dusty grime. How depressing. 

He really didn’t want to contemplate the state of his coattails, bunched beneath him. 

“Can we get this over with?” he rasped, twisting around to find himself facing a pair of legs. The boots, he was pleased to note, were dustier than his own clothes. And the trouser hems bunched where they landed on the leather. Unfortunate tailoring. 

Or simply a lack of any tailoring whatsoever. 

The man crouched, leaning closer to study Casper’s face. Casper blinked back at him. He held a domino mask in his left hand, a row of beads stitched over coarse black silk glued to some kind of paper frame. 

He’d seen those masks being sold for a few coins each in the carnival stalls the last Week of Summer Nights. 

Cheap. Cheap. At least Councilman West had had class, even if he’d left Casper tied up in a guest room closet. Evidently it was getting into the slightly seedy end of the evening. 

Councilman Donnis leaned back to sit on his heels. “I understand,” he said, the attempted change in his voice not covering the smugness, “that you are likely in fear of your life at this moment. However—”

“You could at least have taken a little more care of my outfit.”

“—as long as you make the sensible decisions—”

“My biggest concern at the moment, Donnis, is that I might suffocate in this dust.”

A laugh. Definitely strained. “Well, it hardly matters, does it?” He tossed the mask aside. “So now I have your attention, your majesty. You cut down my objections in the council meeting, but you can hardly put me off so plainly now, not—”

“I’m sorry,” Casper said, drawing his eyes to Donnis’ face with difficulty. “But your suit appears to have been sewn with navy thread in several places, which I’m finding a little overwhelming. Perhaps reconsider which tailor you hire.”

“Do you mind,” Donnis demanded flatly. “I am trying to present my demands to you on behalf of this nation and her continued prosperity. You are tied up. The least you could do is listen.”

“You plan to tell me what you want and why you’ve kidnapped me?”

“I would if you could stop interrupting—” 

“Oh. Good, good, I’m listening. Hurry up.” Casper flicked his gaze to the two thuggish looking men in livery who stood behind Donnis. As a matter of fact, considering what they must normally look like, they cleaned up rather well. Just thuggish enough to look like hired brawn, but neat enough to be some noble’s hired brawn. He would have considered hiring them for when the palace had an event and needed extra hands, if it weren’t for their incompetence. 

Oh, and the treason. 

…seriously, though, who ties a prisoner’s hands in front of them? And leaves their legs untied, and their eyes and mouth uncovered? He can’t quite get over that. 

Donnis took a deep breath through his nose. “I’ve brought you here in order to persuade you of the necessity of not breaking trade ties with the Republic of Quartz Lakes. And while I’d like that to be a civilized conversation, I’m prepared to go to somewhat draconian lengths in this pursuit.”

“Marvellous. So, treason. Always the best way to start discussions on diplomacy.”

Shooting a glance at his two henchmen, who stared at the ceiling and shuffled their weight, Donnis gave another strained chuckle. “Perhaps you need a demonstration of exactly how precarious your situation is, your majesty.”

“Councilman Donnis, this is the third time I’ve been kidnapped tonight. It’s getting old.”

“Others attempted to kidnap you?” the man demanded, presumably uneasy to hear he had such high-demand merchandise in his possession. 

“And also ruined my outfit, yes. How many times do you think I can change before my guests notice? Tara told me it was a bad idea not to have more guards.” Casper tipped his head. “Advice,” he mused, slowly, “that you could also stand to take.”

And at that, Donnis visibly realised that his henchmen were no longer behind him. 

Instead, a slim figure appeared, as though speaking her name had summoned her from some shadowy corner of the shed. 

Which was, in effect, exactly what had happened.  

Donnis’ eyes widened. He fumbled a knife from somewhere and lunged towards Casper, who threw himself into an awkward roll that took him lurching into the older man’s legs.

Off-balance, he went down. 

Casper pushed himself onto his feet and held out his bound hands. “See, it wasn’t that much of a bad idea.”

Patting her trouser pockets, Tara raised an eyebrow. “You know, I don’t think I have a knife on me. Terrible shame.”

On the floor, Donnis made a move to stand. 

“If you value the use of your fingers,” Tara said without looking, tone conversational, “you’ll think twice about your next move. The heels on these boots are quite sturdy. And even if they weren’t, I’m pretty sure I’ve got a knife or two on me that I’ve simply forgotten about. Just so you know.” 

Casper grumbled. “No one believes you don’t have a knife, Tara.”

“Are your fingers going numb?”

“Absolutely not, I just need to get back before my guests notice I’ve disappeared.”
She inclined her head, her wavy golden bob swaying around her chin. “They’re absolutely going numb, aren’t they. Admit it. Admit this was a bad idea.”

“They’re simply tingling a little,” Casper protested. “My idea has been working perfectly well.”

“Baiting your enemies into kidnapping you is working perfectly well. Good to know. Have you considered the stress it’s putting on my workload? Anything goes wrong and we end up without a king, that’s on me.”

“I trust you to keep me safe. I mean, look at him.”

Both king and guard swung their heads to look at the councilman.

“You have a point,” Tara admitted. 

Donnis scowled bleakly at her.

“And it’s working, isn’t it? That’s two councilmen and one carriage driver who’ve kidnapped me to monologue evil plots.”

“Don’t forget the minstrel.” 

“And the minstrel,” Casper agreed, “but he tried to kill me without kidnapping me, so it’s hardly fair to blame the unfortunate complications on my plan. My plan is fine. At this rate, we’ll have flushed the majority of my enemies out into the open by the end of the month.”

Tara flicked invisible dust off her epaulettes. “Indeed. In the meantime, shall I presume you will be wanting a fresh set of clothes? The only thing less white than your tie is your shirt.”

Casper sighed. “So my plan is not quite fine.”

 

...Tara deserved more story time—she's about five years older than her teenage king, and she is simultaneously both So Done with looking after him, and protective enough that she's pretty sure she may as well be his older sister—but I couldn't figure out how to put it in. :'( 

also how do YOU title because I need help, mate.

• • • • •

Shout out to the Story Sponge for her So Done alchemist and his mysteriously dead clockmaker sister, and to the Temperamental Writer for a kid called Augustus Ragsdale the Second who I am now adopting regrets slipping his bodyguard. 

READ THEM. GO GO GO.

• • • • •

There will be no Quirks in November or December. I figure a lot of writers may be doing NaNo? and December is all Christmas/end of year stuff. I'll bring them back in January! Thank you to everyone who's joined in with me on these first five Quirks... I've loved getting to read your stories, and I hope you've had fun! 

Oh, and hopefully I'll still manage blogging between now and January... maybe even get a few really old draft posts up. xD 

See you around!