Chapter 14

The next day, all of Paris—maybe even all of France—gathered to pay tribute to the fallen Legend. In actuality, Charles de Batz-Castlemore, Comte D'Artagnan had been laid to rest the night before, in a small, private ceremony at St. Julien's. After all that had happened, the last thing the younger D'Artagnan needed was thousands of strangers crowding around, telling him how sorry they were as he buried his father. Louis had understood, and today's memorial ceremony was the compromise.

D'Artagnan, in civilian clothing and accompanied by his fiancée, stood next to the King as he gave a stirring eulogy praising the Legend's numerous great deeds and his outstanding service to the Crown. And, for once, the son of the Legend listened without complaint. Siroc could swear he even saw tears on his former comrade's cheeks.

Siroc, along with Jacques, Ramon, and a few other recruits whose names he couldn't remember, were all in full dress uniform and acting as a sort of honor guard for the occasion. He glanced over at his student, noting how nicely she'd cleaned up after her ordeal in the sanctum. The hack job she'd done on her hair the other day had been repaired by the garrison barber, leaving it neatly trimmed and almost as short as Bernard's. It was a bit longer on top, but she had it slicked back. Her false beard was fixed firmly in place, and, by the way she was holding herself, Siroc could tell she'd bound her chest a bit more stringently than usual. Not that he could blame her, as the eyes of Paris were all focused on the musketeers at the moment. Still, it did bother him that she had to go to such lengths to preserve her disguise. 'First chance I get,' he quietly vowed, 'I'm going to come up with a better way for her to do that…one that won't be nearly so uncomfortable. Good thing she's immortal, or I'd fear that she'd end up doing permanent damage.'

Just then, he felt something brush against his senses. Discreetly scanning the crowd, he caught sight of bright reddish-blonde hair. A moment later, the owner of said hair moved out of sight, followed by a dark-haired companion. Siroc allowed himself to relax, though he did move his purse someplace a bit safer. He didn't have much on him at the moment, but the last thing he needed was for a certain sticky-fingered immortal to rob him blind. He glanced back over at Jacqueline, whose eyes were nervously darting about in search of the mystery immortal, and he gave her a small smile to assure her that it was okay.

Someone nudged him, and it was then that Siroc realized that most of the ceremony had already passed while he'd allowed his thoughts to wander. Ramon was finishing up a rhapsody he'd composed for the occasion, and the citizens of Paris were starting to file past a rapier and tabard that had been laid out on a bier in lieu of a body in order to pay their last respects. He moved into position next to the bier, and Jacqueline took the opportunity to get next to him while the other recruits did the same at the opposite end.

"Who were they?" Jacqueline whispered.

"Who?"

"The immortals that I felt a little while ago."

"Oh, them. Rebecca Horne and Amanda…whatever she's calling herself these days."

"Old friends?"

He nodded. "Well, Rebecca is, anyway. She's at least twice my age and I've known her almost as long as I've been immortal. As for Amanda…well, it's complicated. She's Rebecca's student, a little over 800 years old. Don't worry, though. Amanda won't be after your head. Your purse, though…that's another matter."

"Thief?"

"Thief, con artist…I don't think the woman has done an honest day's work in her whole life. Granted, the first time around she was a street urchin with little choice but to steal if she wanted to eat, but since becoming immortal she's turned deceit into an art form."

"That bad?"

Siroc shrugged. "I wouldn't say 'bad,' exactly. She does have a good heart, deep down. Otherwise Rebecca would've never taken her in."

"Then why don't you like her?"

"Who said I didn't?" Her eyebrow shot up, and he sighed. "Okay, okay. Let's just say that she and I have some personal issues to work out and leave it at that. Alright?"

"Fine," she huffed, a bit annoyed that he was being so secretive. Duval walked up to them and cleared his throat, and both immortals quickly snapped to attention. He gave the pair a disapproving look before returning to Louis' side. Once he was gone, they relaxed, but stayed silent until the last of the mourners had paid their respects to the Legend.

Later that evening, the musketeer trio was gathered in the lab, having been given the night off. Siroc was working on the Impenetrable he'd promised Louis, and the three were discussing plans for the next month.

"And how exactly do you plan on getting leave for a whole month, Siroc?" Jacqueline asked.

"She's got a point, amigo. The capitan may have his moments, but I've never known him to be that generous…even for his favorites."

Siroc smiled. "Don't worry. I've got a plan. What I'm worried about is finding you a decent sword, Jacqueline."

"What are you talking about? I have a sword."

"I know, but it's not the kind you're going to need. Rapiers are primarily designed for thrusting. They have no cutting edge. What you need is a good broadsword, but those aren't exactly common these days, and you tossed the first decent one I've seen in decades into that lake."

Jacqueline scowled. "I had my reasons, Siroc. You don't need to keep bringing it up."

"I'm just saying…."

"Don't. I'm not getting into this with you again. That sword was trouble, and I'm glad I got rid of it. End of discussion."

"Alright," Siroc said, holding his hands up in surrender. "You still need a good sword, though."

"How about a cutlass?" Ramon chimed in. "Small, lightweight, and far more common than broadswords. Not to mention that the technique is similar to what you already know, Jacqueline."

Her eyebrow shot up. "How do you know so much, Ramon?"

He shrugged. "Tio Alejandro was a sailor in his youth. He showed me a few things."

"Do you think you can get hold of one?" Siroc asked. "Preferably within the next few days?"

"Si. I can go get it right now, in fact. There happens to be one in my quarters. Tio Alejandro gave it to me before I left Spain."

Jacqueline shook her head. "I can't accept that, Ramon. It was a gift from your uncle."

"Yes, you can. I want you to have it, mi amiga. Better it get some use in protecting your cabeza than sit around collecting dust."

"Are you sure?"

Ramon nodded. "Take it. I insist."

"Well…since you put it that way…." Smiling, the Spaniard kissed both her cheeks before heading off to retrieve the blade. Jacqueline watched him leave, then turned to Siroc. "Happy now?"

"Personally, I'd still prefer you use a nice, sturdy broadsword. However, we really don't have the time to run around looking for one, so I suppose the cutlass will have to do."

Jacqueline rolled her eyes, and was about to comment when a knock came at the door. Not expecting anyone—at least, not anyone who'd bother knocking—Siroc grabbed his rapier and cautiously made his way over. Slowly, he opened the door to reveal what looked to be a palace messenger.

"Jacques LePonte?"

"Who wants to know?" Siroc growled, bringing the blade into the mortal's line of sight. The young man gulped, but managed to maintain his composure.

"I-I have a message from the King. It's for Private LePonte's eyes only."

"A message from the King, eh? How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"It's all in here," he said, pulling a scroll from inside his jacket. Siroc quickly snatched it from his hand and began to examine it. The scroll looked authentic enough, right down to the Royal seal. With a shrug, he sheathed his blade and gave the messenger a few coins for his trouble.

Once the young man had scampered off, Siroc went over to Jacqueline and handed her the scroll. "I believe this is yours."

"What could His Majesty possibly want with me?"

"Only one way to find out." He gestured towards the scroll.

No longer able to contain her curiosity, Jacqueline broke the seal and read through the message. "He wants me to come to the palace immediately. Says he has some important business to discuss with me."

"What kind of business?"

She shook her head. "The note doesn't say."

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go."

"Actually…he wants me to come alone."

"Alone?"

"That's what the note said."

Siroc scowled. "I don't like it. Bernard is still out there."

"The palace isn't that far, and there's a chapel inside it. I'll be fine. Would you really ask me to disobey a direct order from the King?"

"I'm just worried, that's all. If anything ever happened to you…."

"It won't."

Just then, Ramon re-entered the lab. "Here you go, amiga," he said, handing her the sword. It was rather plain-looking, with a curved, single-edged blade and a simple knuckle guard. "I know it's not much to look at, but it did save Tio Alejandro's life on more than one occasion. It should serve you well."

"Thank you, Ramon."

"De nada."

"See Siroc? I have a good sword, now. I'll be just fine."

Ramon looked between them, confused. "What's going on?"

"His Majesty sent me a message, asking me to come to the palace. Siroc seems to be having a bit of the trouble with the 'come alone' part of the note."

"Why? You're a big girl, and I doubt Bernard would be stupid enough to show his face this soon after what happened in the sanctum."

"That's what I'm saying."

Siroc sighed. "It would seem I'm outnumbered."

"Is that a yes?"

"Just as long as you come straight back here afterwards. No wandering the streets."

"Yes, mother," Jacqueline muttered sarcastically.

Siroc's frown deepened. "I'm serious, Jacqueline. This isn't a game. If you do run into any other immortals—especially if it's Bernard—don't try to take them on. Head to holy ground, send a message here, and stay put until I come get you. Okay?"

She nodded. "Anything else?"

"Just be careful, that's all."

"I'm always careful," she huffed.

Now it was Siroc's turn to roll his eyes. "Famous last words."

Choosing to ignore that last comment, Jacqueline took her new sword and looked at it for a moment before turning her attention back to Siroc. "What exactly am I supposed to do with this? I mean, if I wear the cutlass instead of my musketeer blade, people might start asking questions."

Siroc cracked a smile. "Thought you'd never ask." He went over to a trunk in the corner and, after a bit of digging, produced a musketeer jacket.

"I already have one of those, Siroc. How is that going to help?"

"This one happens to be specially designed for this sort of thing." He held open the left side, and she could see something sewn into the lining. "May I?" he asked, indicating the sword. Nodding, she handed the blade over to Siroc, who slipped it into the jacket's addition. "See, it's a hidden sheath. I sewed it in at just the right angle to keep it from changing the jacket's shape too much, and look…" He pulled down on the blade, causing the top of the sheath to come open. "It's designed to release with just a little bit of pressure, so you won't have to fumble if you need the blade quickly." Still smiling at his own brilliance, he put the sheath back together, returned the sword to it, and handed the jacket over to Jacqueline, who quickly changed it with the one she was currently wearing. "It doesn't work with larger blades, unfortunately. For that, you'd need a longer coat. But it should suffice for what you have now."

She nodded. "Thank you."

"No problem. Now get going before I change my mind."

"Yes sir," she said, tossing off a mock salute. Laughing, she had to duck as the inventor chucked a wad of parchment at her head. She threw it back, then headed out the door before he could retaliate.