Snappy and Dashing

Ch.7 Faith

A shove from the shock-gloved man awoke Richelle from her daydream about the rail-raft, and what it could mean that Silskin had possession of it. She reluctantly walked up the ramp.

The rail-raft was ten yards long with three banks of see-saws for propulsion. Three wooden dining chairs were nailed down in a row at the front, while a similar row was nailed down at the very back. Two chests of drawers were secured in the middle, as well as a large trunk. The cannon was being chained near the front.

With the help of two other soldiers, the shock-gloved man's equipment was disassembled and put into the trunk.

"If you'd kindly take a seat," requested Silskin, pointing to the back row of chairs. "In the middle, if you please."

Richelle nodded politely and took her seat.

Mister Jenny locked on her eyes for a moment, pausing briefly before heading to the front row. Something in Jenny's eyes screamed a warning at her, and she thought for the first time that she might be in real danger. She glanced around at the soldiers, taking in how they were armed and where they were stationed. She studied them as they took their final positions—one sitting beside her, with Silskin on the other side, two sitting at the front with Mister Jenny and the rest either pumping the platform forward, or standing ready to have their turn pumping.

After several minutes, with the wind starting to bite against their faces, Silskin turned to Richelle. "The speed is quite remarkable, isn't it?"

"It is," she replied politely, while fidgeting her bound hands and feet. "I understand the rope at our waists serves to secure us to the chairs. What about those soldiers in the middle—has anyone ever fallen?"

Silskin looked at them with the smallest amount of concern, a true aristocrat gazing upon the less valuable of society. "We actually lost a few soldiers on the way here. It's been our longest trip yet. We've only been using the rail-raft for a couple of days," he said. "We'll need to make certain improvements, but otherwise it's quite effective."

Richelle nodded. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Silskin's lack of concern at sharing these tidbits with her, and it was clear that he wasn't sharing them accidentally. He had the confidence of a man who knew the person he was speaking to would never have the opportunity to do anything with the answers. "May I inquire as to where we are going?"

Silskin considered the request for a moment before answering, "We're off to Relna. Mister Jenny and I have a meeting tomorrow morning. I need to get statuses on our many endeavors. Even in the grand game, there are these elements of bureaucracy from which we cannot escape."

"Why do I not feel included in that we?" She asked loudly, leaning in to try to overcome the building noise of the rail-raft. She also continued to subtly wiggle her arms and legs.

Silskin chuckled. "Once again, your heritage shines through. Ever able to dissect nuance and detail. Correct, you are not included in that we. Sadly, I cannot tell you where you are going. My instructions were clear, and absent of any details that could be used against us.

"Oh, hang on—this part is the first of the rough patches." He grabbed the bottom of his seat with both hands.

Richelle stared ahead as the rail-raft headed downhill and over a small, rickety bridge. She closed her eyes and took advantage of each bump to rock her chair as hard as she could.

"I think she's scared!" yelled the soldier beside her to Silskin.

"We're all afraid of something!" he shouted back.

Ten minutes later, with the second of the rough patches out of the way, Richelle had a good sense of where they were. She twisted her wrists and reached under her cloak to the back of her belt. Turning to Silskin, she said, "I'm surprised at you, Ron-Paul."

He frowned at her, both for using his first name and because of her tone.

"Oh—I mean no disrespect, and I mean this from one player in the political realm to another. Neither of us directs our side of the grand game, and so in many ways we are alike, different only in role," she said, looking through her messy black hair that had fallen almost entirely out of its original ponytail. "You've been doing this longer than I. Is it still satisfying?"

His face relaxed and his eyebrows came together as he thought. "I hadn't considered it," he replied, looking up and around.

Richelle stared ahead and took a deep breath as she recognized the long, cliffside bridge ahead. Just as the rail-raft reached it, everything started to shake violently. The legs of her chair broke as she rocked it forward with all of her might.

As the soldier seated beside her reached out to grab her, she slashed at him with the knife from behind her belt. She then kicked him squarely in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. Shaking off the remains of the chair, she made a straight line for the edge of the rail-raft.

Two soldiers abandoned their pumping station and charged at her, one managing to grab her by her right arm as she tried to jump off. She swung back onto the platform.

"What's happening?" screamed Silskin, flailing with the rope that bound him to his seat.

Richelle started to panic as the lake raced past. Lodging her knife into the leg of one soldier, she took the other soldier right over the edge with her.

"What just happened?!" screamed Silskin, twisting to stare back as Richelle and the soldier tumbled to the cold waters far below. "Stop the raft! Stop!"

Mister Jenny shot a look back and quickly untied himself.

One of the soldiers abandoned his station and came to Silskin. "My Lord—we can't stop! We won't have the momentum needed to get up the next hill."

"YIG! YIG, YIG, YIG!" Silskin cursed as Mister Jenny approached carefully.

"I told you—" growled Jenny, staying low to the floor, a dagger at the ready for bracing himself. He had argued against Silskin's idea of having him sit away from his former student. "I couldn't hear anything up there. You should have never questioned my loyalty, but listened to me," he barked, digging right into Silskin's unstated insecurity. But inside, Jenny smiled. Everything had gone as he'd expected, and his hands were perfectly clean. He'd trusted Richelle to do exactly what she'd done.

Silskin closed his eyes and shook his head furiously. "Listen to me, Mister Jenny. The story will be that she died in the assault on the coach. Anything else could raise questions that would ultimately cost us both—dearly."

Mister Jenny shook his head as he got within inches of Silskin, his eyes seething with rage. In a gravelly whisper, he asked, "What about all of them?" He gestured with his head to the soldiers. "At least one of them is going to talk, or else try to blackmail us. You know that, don't you?"

"We'll need to clean them," said Silskin hesitantly. "Just— time it after the next hill."

Jenny frowned at the soldier who was staring at him in horror, having overheard their conversation. A moment later, Jenny silently pushed the throat-slit soldier off the rail-raft.

As the man hit the water, Jenny glanced down and swallowed hard. Piemans have always been hard to kill, Snappy. Don't change that on me, he thought. Don't you dare.

The End