Chapter Twenty-Two

The wizard found an assassin named Barsad who was amenable to the task of slaying the other twelve wizards. His faith had bred in him a great distrust of magic, but the wizard deceived him into servitude.

The Seer's Parables

Anders,

Arendelle

January 12th, 1843

As soon as they entered the alleyway behind the little pub, Elsa stopped and grabbed Hans by the sleeve. He whipped about and instantly understood what she was thinking.

"We were detected."

"Yes." Hans tried to urge the queen to keep running, but she remained in place.

"They might have recognized me."

"Likely, they did not, your majesty," Hans said, glancing back at the door they had escaped from and placing a hand on the grip of one of his pistols.

Meanwhile, Novare and Montaigne had stopped at the mouth of the alleyway, turning back to look at the others.

"Come on, Elsa!" Novare said frantically. "We have to get out of here!"

"But there's a chance that they did," Elsa said.

She was right, of course. "Yes," Hans acceded.

"Then I must allow them to capture me," Elsa said to Hans. "You need to go. Make sure that Novare and Montaigne get out of here safely, and then go after Namar Sadden. I'll try to make an escape with Anna and Kristoff. Then I'll come to help you if I can."

"Elsa, this is foolish. Playing by Everdark's rules is no way to guarantee the safety of your sister."

Elsa looked Hans directly in the eyes, and he saw the force of her conviction. "It's the only choice I have."

With that, she turned and ran back into the building.

"Elsa!" Novare shouted, rushing back down the alleyway towards the door. Hans caught her and began to drag her back out of the alleyway, her hands stretching around him until they reached the edge.

"Listen very closely to me right now," Hans said. "We were discovered in that pub. We don't know if Elsa was recognized, but whether or not she was, that's very bad for us. If Namar Sadden thinks that Elsa is coming after him and he's worried about that, he can kill Anna and her husband at a whim. The only situation where Anna's life is in slightly less danger is the one where Elsa gets captured and sent to Namar Sadden himself.

"I still don't think that's a good plan, but I can understand why she wants to take it," Hans said. "And we have to respect that decision."

After a moment or two, Novare nodded amongst the sounds of shouts inside the pub, tear tracks running down her face. The queen had been captured.

"Now let's get you two the hell out of here," Hans said.

xxx

Elsa stood in the center of the pub, her chin held high as the troops – troops that once served her, she was well aware – encircled her. It was with no small amount of discomfort that the queen realized that she knew their captain. His name was Sakarias Ender; he was a few years older than Elsa and before her imprisonment, they had been in the same elite primary school.

"Sakarias." She said, resisting the urge to try and pivot to keep all of the men in sight. "What a pleasant surprise."

Sakarias Ender waved a hand to the other troops as he approached the queen, and they uneasily lowered their weapons. A cursory glance over the captain's shoulders confirmed to Elsa that, during the commotion, most of the pub's patrons had fled. Those that stayed behind huddled in the corners of the room, watching in rapt silence.

"Miss Siguror," Ender nodded. It was strange to hear herself addressed that way, stripped of all formal titles and yet avoiding the first name. "I must admit that I consider your return rather foolish."

"And I might counter that I consider your current choice of allegiance rather foolish."

Ender frowned, a creasing in his forehead. "We had no choice. Lord Sadden gathered every ranking official in the army at Condorcet Square and executed all of the generals. Then he instated some of his own men; I don't know who they are, or where they're from. But he threatened us all."

The soldiers surrounding Elsa looked uneasy that their captain was willing to tell this all to the queen, but they kept their mouths shut. One or two fidgeted nervously.

"Our lives are on the line here, Miss Siguror. I'm sure you understand that."

"Very well. Then take me. I have no desire to kill you all." Elsa proffered her wrists, and after a few tense moments, Ender came over and began to bind them.

"Your sister is alive," he whispered to her, a voice so quiet that Elsa barely heard it herself. "But he is torturing her. He's using her as bait."

Elsa did not respond as Ender stepped away and ordered two soldiers to usher her into the street. She had suspected as much, and she felt a sour taste that she had no choice but to walk right into his trap. But Elsa would not gamble with her sister's life, and there was no other way. So she went with them.

They led her to a black carriage and ushered her inside, two soldiers and Ender stepping in after her. The remaining soldiers stood on the running boards as the carriage began its journey back to the capital. Elsa looked down at the ropes binding her hands and considered her options.

She could almost certainly kill or incapacitate every man in the carriage. However, she was dubious that it would help much. If Namar Sadden was using troops to patrol the perimeter towns, another group of soldiers would find the evidence of her escape within hours. If she hadn't yet managed to free Anna, her sister was as good as dead.

If she allowed the soldiers to lead her to Arendelle, she wasn't certain whether she would be brought straight to Namar Sadden. Elsa imagined that she was probably important enough to stay other duties, but the usurper could also have his own reasons for not seeing to her immediately.

She felt powerless.

However, for the moment, it seemed that she had succeeded in diverting their attention away from Hans. He could still make it into Arendelle undetected. Elsa just had to hope that he was able to help.

xxx

Namar Sadden could feel his own breathing. It was too quick. He was nervous; of course, he had reason to be. Everdark was displeased that Elsa had not yet returned. The God of Darkness was impatient, and as each hour slipped past with no news of the ousted monarch, Sadden felt the noose of his master grow ever tighter.

He heard footsteps. They interrupted his thoughts and brought him back to the present; a knock sounded at the door to his private study. Sadden set aside several sheaves of paper containing orders to be dispersed later during the day and bade the arrival enter. The former Chief Magistrate expected one of his servants, and was fittingly surprised when Charles Vander stepped into the small room.

The oldest of the Magistrates was still a considerable voice in Arendelle's court, and certainly one of the most respected of its citizens. Over seventy, he was tall and quite thin and weathered with age. He adjusted his cravat and nodded to Namar Sadden before taking a seat.

"Charles. What a welcome surprise." Sadden stood, as he often unconsciously did when he was having a conversation with Vander. Though Sadden had been the Chief Magistrate, Vander had the seniority, and it made for an unpleasant power dynamic. Though he wasn't thinking about it, the act of standing afforded Sadden a psychological feeling of superiority over the other man. Looking down on him helped.

"Thank you for having me, Namar. I understand that your schedule is substantially busier now."

If it was meant to bother Sadden, it did. He managed to cover it, smiling fluidly as he responded, "What is on your mind, dear friend?"

"I am a very old man, Namar. Old enough to be your father, and you aren't young yourself." He adjusted his position in the chair across from the Lord Insurgent, crossing one leg over the other at the knee. "And this old man has done quite a bit of thinking these last few days."

"Thinking about what, Charles?" Sadden rung a bell over his right shoulder, calling for a servant to bring them refreshments.

"I was a young man when the Revolution swept through France. I remember the violence. It was horrible."

"What are you trying to say, Charles?" Sadden met his gaze, steadily concealing his anger and jealousy towards the other magistrate. The man who had always held as much sway as he, even though Sadden was the ranking official.

"I fear that those who forget the terrors of the past are doomed to repeat them," Vander said, a wistful smile on his face. "A revolution is not a legitimate transfer of power. It necessarily ends in violence and upheaval."

At that moment, there was a soft knock at the concealed servant's door, and the Lord Insurgent bade them enter. A matronly woman stepped over the threshold holding a tray of tea and crumbly cakes. She set it upon the desk and scurried away, keeping her gaze to the floor as she did, fearful of doing something to invoke her master's wrath. Once she was gone, Sadden leaned across the table and poured a cup of tea, handing it to Vander before preparing one for himself.

"We have secured the city, Charles. There is no more fighting. There may have been a dozen or so casualties, but there will be no more. It is done with."

"I am afraid that you will not be correct," Vander continued. "And my conscience will not allow me to be an accomplice to your new regime, Namar. I am sorry."

Namar Sadden frowned deeply. Much as he didn't give a damn whether Charles Vander stuck around or not, the people loved and trusted him. His presence did much to assuage the fears of those citizens who thought this a hostile takeover. Plus, it wouldn't do him well to lose too many magistrates, and there was no hope of winning Novare over to his side now. It was clear enough that she was loyal to the queen. Namar Sadden was still considering his response when there was another knock at the door.

"Please, Charles, let us discuss this more completely later," the Lord Insurgent said. "Losing your support would be a great loss, and I am quite sure that we can bring you around."

Vander did not look optimistic about the chances of that, but he politely nodded and stood to exit as Namar Sadden came around the table. Sadden placed a hand on his shoulder and walked him to the door, wondering what he would have to do to win back the elderly man's support. Vander was a traditional man, and traditional men in government were lapdogs to monarchy. It wouldn't be easy to convince him that Arendelle was better off now.

Namar Sadden opened the door and saw one of the old palace servants waiting outside. "I will pay a visit to you later, Charles. We will see if there is not some common ground to be had between us."

Vander nodded, shook the former Chief Magistrate's hand and took his leave, stepping around Kai, who stood nervously before Sadden. Kai had been captured during the sacking of the palace and reassigned to the service of the Lord Insurgent. He hadn't liked the prospect of working for the man who had overthrown Elsa, but he'd liked it more than the prospect of death, which was probably what awaited him if he refused.

"Ahem. Your excellency," Kai said, bowing deeply.

"What is it, man?" Sadden seemed annoyed to Kai, which made him gulp.

"Um, excellent news, your excellency," Kai trembled, though he did not consider this excellent news at all. "Captain Ender has arrived, and he says that he has Queen Elsa with him."

Namar Sadden felt audible relief. Using Elsa's sister as bait had worked, after all. "Very good. Where is he now?"

"In the courtyard, your excellency. Will you go to him?"

Would he? Sadden wasn't sure. Perhaps he should consult his master first. Elsa was dangerous, and she would likely be furious. He had learned during Anna's torture that the queen was now quite skilled with her powers, and he didn't exactly want to die with an icicle rammed through his chest. As a matter of fact, he was quite sure that the only reason she had been captured was because she wanted to be. It's not like a couple of ordinary soldiers would have been able to overpower her.

"No. Tell Captain Ender to take her to Whiteveil. Tell him to put her on the second level. I'll be past to speak to her shortly."

"Very good, your excellency." Kai bowed again and scurried away.

Namar Sadden left his study and headed to the Dark Chamber.

xxx

A lone carriage came to a stop before the gates of Arendelle. The driver fidgeted a bit as he looked at the rifles held by the guards. One of them lazily moved his gun to his left shoulder.

"You got the papers to get in, boy?"

Frightened, he shook his head. "No, but my master does." He hopped off the driver's box and stumbled a bit as he made his way over to the cab. One of the soldiers followed him, coming up behind as the boy knocked at the door to the cab.

"Mister Schwinn," the driver said. "The guards need your papers."

The door opened, revealing a middle-aged man wearing spectacles. He fumbled around in his jacket for a moment. The soldier glanced past him and saw no one else in the carriage, though there were several briefcases and a heavy jacket.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," he said, laughing nervously. "I must have put it in my – ah, here it is – breast pocket." He handed over a folded, yellow piece of parchment.

The soldier unfolded it and glanced it over, pretending he could read. In reality, he was just looking for the seal of the new regime. He recognized the red wax bearing the impression of a vulture, and nodded as he handed it back to Schwinn.

"Very well. Move along." He waved his hand, ushering them into the city.

The boy hopped back upon the driver's box and the carriage rolled along.

After they had progressed a few streets into town, Mr. Schwinn glanced over at the jacket beside him. Almost as if it were on cue, at that moment it began to move. Hans Westergaard emerged from underneath it and the rest of the luggage, holding a gun pointed at the other man.

"We're well into the city now, brigand," Schwinn whispered. "Surely you can make your leave."

"I was planning on it," Hans said gruffly. His arm ached from pointing the pistol at Schwinn for the several hours that the journey from Anders to the capital had taken, but he hadn't wanted to take any risks. If he let his guard down and Schwinn tried something heroic and stupid, Hans would have had to kill him. And that wouldn't have helped anyone.

Schwinn sighed as Hans lowered the pistol.

"But I realized that I need to ensure your silence," Hans said. "I've had a few hours to think about how best to do that. I can just pay off your driver; street urchins tend to be loyal to coin alone. But you're already a wealthy man. And you seem like a squealer."

Hans's statement was hardly unfounded; several times during the journey to Arendelle, Schwinn had said that he would see Hans brought to justice for this. Though the merchant could have no possible clue who the former prince was and why he was important, Hans knew that it would be safer to make sure that he couldn't talk.

"N-no, not at all-" the man began, but it was too late.

Hans flipped his pistol about and bashed the side of Schwinn's head, knocking him unconscious. He had contemplated killing the merchant, to be sure, but Hans didn't consider himself an indiscriminate killer. Not yet. Besides, the man would likely be unconscious for a couple of hours, and he only planned on needing a few. Time was exceedingly precious with Elsa captured, and Hans imagined that things got worse for him if he waited.

He rode out the rest of the preplanned trip in silence, plotting his next move. When they came to a rolling halt, Hans stepped out of the carriage and glanced around. Unsurprisingly, he was in front of an office in the business district. The merchant's offices, presumably. Hans turned to the cabbie, who recoiled from him, frightened.

"Easy there, friend."

"Please don't hurt me, sir." The boy squeaked. He couldn't have been more than fourteen.

"I have no intention of doing so," Hans said calmly, trying to ease the kid's fears. The last thing he needed was the driver attracting the attention of anyone on the street. "But I do have some more instructions for you. There's two crowns in it for you, if you take them to heart," Hans said, holding up two glimmering coins.

As expected, at the sight of the crowns the boy's fears melted away. He nodded quickly.

"Our friend here is a bit under the weather," Hans said, knocking twice on the side of the cab. "So I want you to take him downtown. Find a place that sells smelling salts; bring him back."

Hans drew out an extra ten pence for the salts. "When he comes to, tell him that he ate something bad back in Anders, fell into a deep and fitful sleep during the ride over. Everything he can remember since is just a bad dream. Do you understand me?"

The boy nodded again.

"Atta boy." Hans tossed him the coins, closed the door to the carriage, and walked right into the merchant's offices.

He hadn't kept track of the hour very well since he left Anders, but it must have still been business hours as he stepped into the office, because a pretty young secretary looked smilingly up at him as he walked in.

"Welcome back, Mr. Schw-" She cut herself off midsentence. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm expecting my boss back any minute now. Welcome to Schwinn Mercantile and Trade. How can I help you?"

"Hello, young lady. I'm one of the investors with Endelmann-Brachs." Hans was acutely aware of the fact that he wasn't wearing the crimped suit that one would expect an investment banker to be wearing, so he thought quickly. "I've just come from our Paris Branch," he said, smoothly slipping into a soft French accent.

"I've been traveling for the better part of these last two weeks, so I hope you'll excuse my rather rude appearance."

The young secretary shook her head. "Oh. Not at all, Mr..."

"MacDonald," he said, falling back on his earlier alias. Though this time, of course, he was doing the whole French thing, too. He needed to start practicing accents more often. "I figured that I would make a quick drop-in, before the workday's over. Haven't even checked into the Royal yet," he said, referring to the Royal First hotel.

"You said that Mr. Schwinn isn't in right now?"

"No, I'm afraid not," the young woman said, lips pursed.

"Perhaps he got held up at the gates," Hans said easily. "I'm aware that there's a bit of a hubbub with your government right now."

"Yes, I'm terribly sorry about that. It seems to have quieted down now, though."

Hans looked about, affecting a busy investment banker who'd had a long day and didn't want to spend more time waiting around for Mr. Schwinn. "Well, Miss…"

"Louise."

"Miss Louise," he said. "I was sent to review your boss's client list." Keep it simple. Simple is believable. People assume that buzzwords are more believable, but the best lies were the forgettable ones. "Now, uh, I know that it's unprofessional to suggest this, but I've had a long day…"

"You want me to let you look at the lists myself?"

She had cracked so easily. Perhaps she thought he was handsome. It didn't really matter.

"That would be perfect."

She smiled and led him into another room.