AN: A quick thanks to my reviewer 'burg' for all the support. Thank you!
Chapter 9
Hair
"Damn it," she muttered, "where are they?"
It had been an hour since they had caught Henrich, who had spent all of ten minutes attempting to withstand demands for his name. Not exactly the toughest opponent they had faced. The Lieutenant was pacing, hands clinched into fists, quickly running out of patience.
"Oland!"
"Ma'am?"
"What are your thoughts?"
"Well, I don't hear anything from the trees, so I'd say that's clear. Martis and sublieuteant Oreldo, too, ma'am. It might be a good idea to go back."
"Certainly not. We wait here. I want to meet this Clotilda. And I want to do it away from her Lord father."
"Ah," he agreed. "I think that might be her, Lieutenant." Randel pointed with his chin to the woman standing on the hill. She was flanked by two large men. Well. Large compared to the average height of the general population.
Randel tensed. What he'd said before about the camp being poorly located was true. The problem was that now they were the ones in the weak position.
"You're Clotilda, I presume?"
"Of course, Lady Alice." She laughed, "Surprised? You shouldn't be. Even among the lowest and far flung of noblewomen you are famous. Or, should I say, infamous. Look at you; those horrid clothes, that … ugh … dirty face. And that hair," Clotilda tossed her own waist-length, ruby-bright hair over her shoulder to frame her long, pale neck. The woman was beautiful, and she knew it. "Well, it is absolutely shameful. One would never know you were better than a commoner, much less among those of the highest rank. Frankly, I'm surprised your family allows you off the grounds."
"And you?" Lady Alice, for she had taken on the tones and mannerisms more common to her aristocratic sisters than her usual authoritative presence, asked. "Are you allowed off the grounds, Lady Clotilda? Does your family support your shameful, criminal, behavior?"
The woman's laugh was full-throated and loud. And surprisingly infectious. She was spoiled, certainly, but even Alice had that quality at times. Randle was having trouble connecting this airy, vain woman to the theft and abductions they were investigating. If she cared so much for her imagine, why would she risk it by associating with low-class thugs?
"Lady Clotilda, by your presence here, the rumors of your involvement are obviously true. Do you care to defend yourself?"
"Ah, but, you see, I need no defense. I have merely done what is expected of me as one of the rulers of this territory."
"Caretaker, holder, protector," Alice snapped. "The Emperor, and only the Emperor, is the one who rules."
"Oh, don't bother me with such tripe. When has the Emperor set foot in this place? No, it is I who rule."
"And what of your father?"
"What of my father? A warrior who viewed the end of the war as a symbolic death. He refuses to see the possibilities that glow in this post-war paradise."
Post…war … paradise? Randel was more struck by that phrase than he had ever been by words. He had found 'war relief' and 'equality' and 'honor' confusing at first, but this was something altogether different.
Post-war paradise.
Yes. He saw, now, how this woman hid classist cruelty behind her lovely face.
Before the Lieutenant could respond to such a ridiculous statement, a gunshot rang out from the trees at their backs.
"Martis," Randel said, recognizing the gun. "Ma'am, I think we should—"
"Yes, Corporal, I know." The Lieutenant pointed at Lady Clotilda and ordered, "You will meet us at the house of your father at noon, tomorrow. If you do not show yourself at this meeting, it will be a sign of evasion, and will result in Section III releasing a writ of capture and arrest for you and any accomplices. Is that clear? We will take Henrich here as an incentive for your appearance."
"Of course, Lady Alice. Feel free to take that boy your giant holds, I could care less." Another toss of her red hair and loud burst of laughter, and Clotilda turned back to the mansion with her men at her back.
They watched her depart, and when she was out of sight, Randel held up their prisoner. "What should I do about him, Lieutenant?"
"We keep him. Clotilda might not care, but he might have comrades among the other bandits." Randel nodded and Lieutenant Malvin turned to look at the woods, "Could you tell where that shot was fired, Oland?"
"Of course, ma'am."
"Then, lead the way."
"Yes."
