Chapter 2: Pins and Needles
Disclaimer: None of it is mine, except Imogen and the plot.
Special thanks to Paige, my one and only reviewer. I will continue this, never fear. Imogen would drive me mad otherwise.
It was when Imogen got her first glimpse of Pirate's Swoop that she first began to doubt her own sanity. In twentieth-century Victoria, Canada, there were only two huge stone mansions, and one was a museum, the other a military college. Besides which, she had seen them both, and this one resembled neither. Also there was the unmistakable fact that catapults had gone out of style several centuries before Imogen was even born, and this fortress sported several. Then there were the fortifications themselves…nobody put sixty-foot high stone walls around their houses in Canada. In fact, If Imogen had not been bound, gagged, and about to have an apoplectic fit from her fury at such treatment, she would have been quite intrigued by Pirate's Swoop. At the moment, however, she was much more involved in imagining horrible tortures for a certain blond, blue-eyed Rider captain by the name of Evin Larse.
Finally (it seemed like hours to Imogen) they arrived at the gates of the mansion. The gatekeeper let them in immediately, clearly recognizing Evin but shooting a curious look at Imogen, who was still glaring daggers. Evin, practically swelling with self-importance, rode right through the town up to the manor house itself. Swinging off his horse, he approached a tall, brown-haired man who had been leaning against a wall watching the train quizzically.
"Awfully sorry to bother you, Baron George, but we caught a girl in your woods. She seemed like a suspicious character, so we brought her in."
The Baron straightened abruptly. "A spy, you say?" he inquired sharply. "You sure, Evin?" He darted a glance at Imogen. "T'lass looks awful young."
Evin nodded confidently. "I'm positive, Baron, sir. We caught her skulking in the woods, acting strangely."
"I'd best go get Alanna, then," Baron George said reflectively. "Lucky thing she's still home." He strode off quickly, headed for the mansion.
Imogen was shaking with anger. *When I get my hands on Evin Larse, I'm going to cut him up into little pieces, barbecue him shish-kabob style and feed him to the crows,* she thought vindictively, struggling against her bonds. However, her murderous thoughts were interrupted by the reappearance of Baron George, this time with a short red-haired woman in tow. Behind them crept a tall boy of about her own age, also with red hair. From the way he kept to the shadows, Imogen guessed he wasn't supposed to be there.
Lady Alanna raised her eyebrows. "This is the spy?" she said incredulously. "She can't be much older than seventeen. Are the Scanrans so desperate that they're sending children to Tortall?"
Baron George rested a hand on his wife's shoulder. "Maybe we'd best hear what the lass has to say for herself," he suggested gently.
Alanna shook herself violently. "You're right, George," she said. "Keep her bound, Evin, but let her speak."
After Evin had none-too-gently pulled the gag away from Imogen's face, the Baron said sternly, "Now, lass, have you anything to say?"
Apparently Imogen did. She let loose with a string of curses in English, Spanish, French, and Swedish, all directed at Evin Larse. Finishing off with a few very insulting Chinese phrases, Imogen turned back to the Baron and his wife, green eyes snapping, to find everyone staring at her in outright astonishment.
"Goddess," Lady Alanna breathed in awe. "I didn't understand half of that, but I got the gist. Where in Mithros' name did you learn all that?"
Imogen was finally able to manage a small smile. "Let's just say my mother traveled extensively. Very extensively."
Alanna's eyes hardened again and Imogen realized belatedly that she had reminded the lady of the house exactly why this strange girl was dumped in her courtyard, scruffy and covered in dirt. Alanna opened her mouth, but Evin Larse beat her to it.
"You are charged with spying within Tortallan boundaries and threatening the safety of the realm," he told Imogen loftily. "What do you have to say to that?"
Imogen glared at him, murder in her eyes. "Oh, I don't deny being a spy," she said, her voice dripping sarcasm. "That's why I was lurking, freezing cold, in clothing that makes me stand out a mile, in the middle of a forest. You absolute imbecile! Suspicious behavior? I was sleeping, for heaven's sake! I don't even know where I am, what I'm doing here, or if I'm still in my right mind. And even if I was a spy, don't you think I would have chosen a slightly more interesting location than the middle of a wood with absolutely nothing of strategic use to anybody for miles?"
Alanna stared at her, mouth working soundlessly. Imogen glared right back. Then, to Imogen's extreme surprise, the woman burst out laughing. Absolutely nonplussed, Imogen gazed around to see most of the Rider patrol hastily covering grins, Evin Larse looking very sheepish, and Isabella looking triumphant. More confused than ever, Imogen transferred her attention back to the lady of the house, who was gradually getting her hysterics under control.
Finally Alanna was able to wipe her eyes and stand up straight again. "Sorry about that," the woman apologized, still chuckling. "We're all rather suspicious these days, especially after the Scanran attacks. I suppose we didn't really give you a fair chance, but by Mithros, you sure told us off. I haven't laughed so hard since Neal became a knight."
Imogen stared at her. "So, does that mean I'm no longer a suspected spy, accused of conspiring against the realm?" she asked suspiciously. This pardon was too abrupt for her to really be able to trust.
"You are not," Alanna confirmed. "Evin made a stupid error, which he will of course pay for," (Evin gulped) "but other than that, you're free. If there's anything we can do for you in the meantime, we'd be happy to oblige."
Imogen stared meditatively at her bounds. "Being able to move would be nice," she remarked.
Alanna looked extremely embarrassed. "Oops," she said. "Evin, since you ordered her trussed up like a ham, maybe you had better do the untrussing."
The leader of the Rider Company knelt down by Imogen and started undoing the ropes. "Sorry about that," he said apologetically as he worked. "I get rather overzealous sometimes. Now I'm going to be raked over the coals by Isabella, the Lioness, and Buri. Ah, there you are." The last rope fell from Imogen's bloodless feet.
The girl tried to stand and then immediately sat down again as feet that had been too long deprived of circulation began to protest. "I think I'm going to need a little help here," she gasped, wincing as her feet filled with pins and needles.
Two pairs of hands seized Imogen, one on either side. Looking up, she squarely met the hazel eyes of Baron George Cooper. "C'mon, lass. I think we've got a lot to talk about." And supported by Baron George on one side and Lady Alanna on the other, Imogen made her very lopsided way up to Pirate's Swoop.
Craning her head around to glance back at the courtyard, Imogen saw the mysterious red-haired boy, almost forgotten in all the ruckus, detach himself from the shadows and follow the strange trio up to the fortress. I wonder who he is,* Imogen mused before banishing the mysterious figure from her mind to concentrate on more immediate things, such as the throbbing pain now beginning to manifest itself in her feet.
And there it is, Chapter Two. Also a note to readers: the secondary genre is romance, but it will not manifest itself until later in the story and even then it won't be all lovey-dovey. I am partially modeling Imogen after one of my friends, who would probably sock anyone in the nose who suggested she has a romantic interest. Imogen's the same. Also, the shish-kabob barbecuing belongs to my friend Betsy, very insane and with a very active imagination for torture. Thanks!
