Decoy Danger

Mylo wasn’t a fan of big smash and grab type attacks. It felt unnecessarily conspicuous and dangerous. But he had heard townspeople making plans to launch an assault on the Emory mansion and so he’d brought along his own little crew of rebels. He preferred strategic hits that might actually weaken the corrupt nobility who controlled the region; these riots were more about destruction. Still, other rebel leaders wanted to capture nobles where they could; both to interrogate and simply as a blow to the people who were taxing the lower classes literally to death. Plus, it was an easy in to simply walk in with the masses rather than planning something more stealthy. The angry townspeople who had rioted would more than likely kill any nobles they found in the house, so Mylo and his ragtag little band would need to find them first.

He gave a sharp nod to the others; they made up seven in the crowd of people storming the mansion. Most of the rioters moved into the parlor and toward the kitchen; Mylo’s team moved immediately up the stairs. The other six split off into assorted rooms while Mylo prowled up the second floor hallway, keeping his sword in his hand in case the good lord and lady had any guards. He didn’t find any, though he did find a startled cook and a young boy hiding in a closet. The cook held the boy tighter when she saw Mylo there.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, keeping his sword pointed down. The woman looked skeptical.

“Come on, I assume there’s a way to access the servants’ quarters from here. You and your son can sneak out from there.”

He gestured for her to come out and reluctantly she and the boy came out of the closet. Mylo escorted them to a cleverly hidden door that led to a set of window stairs. The woman seemed to finally accept that Mylo wasn’t going to gut them both or hand them off to someone else who would, so she threw him a quick look that was equal parts curiosity and gratitude. That done, Mylo continued his search. There was complete madness downstairs, from the sound of it. He could hear furniture smashing and no doubt the kitchen was being raided for any silver or food it contained. Many people were desperate for both at this point.

Mylo located a room that appeared to be Lord Emory’s study. He slipped inside and rifled through the desk. He didn’t have time to really study any of the papers inside, because a breathless Bret came bounding into the room. The kid was barely eighteen and Mylo didn’t love that he was involved in the rebellion but at the moment Bret looked excited.

“Mylo, we found Lady Emory,” he said. Mylo’s brow furrowed.

“Just Lady Emory? Where’s her husband?”

“Dunno. But come look.”

Mylo followed Bret, once again through a servants’ entrance and out back toward the garden. Rioters didn’t have much interest in flowers, so no one else was currently out there besides Mylo’s own team. They snapped to attention and stood up straighter as Mylo approached, a habit that still flustered him though he didn’t let it show. Lola and Clarence were holding up a woman in a fancy gown whose hands had been bound and her mouth gagged with a satin ribbon.

Mylo came to a halt and took in the “lady” in question for all of a few seconds before he sighed and ran a hand over his face.

“Listen, guys, I appreciate your enthusiasm for the job,” he said. “But come on, this clearly isn’t Lady Emory.”

“What do you mean?” Lola frowned. Mylo gestured to the girl, who could barely seem to keep her head up and her eyes were a bit glassy as she blinked at him owlishly.

“Lady Emory is in her fifties,” Mylo explained calmly. “This girl is…I don’t know, twelve or something.”

The girl made a faint noise of indignation, though between the gag and her woozy state she couldn’t form a properly coherent sentence. He figured she was probably trying to call him a rude name.

“Well it was dark,” Clarence said defensively.

“So what, do we put her back?” Lola asked. “She’s wearing all this fancy stuff, if the rioters find her then they’ll probably-“

She broke off and everyone winced slightly as more glass shattered from the mansion and then a roaring rush of flames lit up the night. Someone had set fire to the mansion, whether it was an accident or intentional was impossible to say. Mylo cursed.

“We could just leave her here,” Clarence suggested. “She can run away.” He let go of her shoulder and the girl promptly toppled over.

“Whoops,” Clarence said. “Maybe not.”

“Oh, to hell with it,” Mylo grumbled. “We’ll just bring her. We can question her when she’s got her wits back and then send her on her way tomorrow.”

Mylo sheathed his sword and lifted the girl like a sack of flour. The others bounded after him as he strode quickly away from the Emory property and toward the woods. They used a long-abandoned summer cottage out there to hole up far from prying eyes. It wasn’t much but once they’d cleared away the dust and cobwebs it suited them pretty well. The girl protested weakly from her place flung over his shoulder. He carried her all the way to the cottage, setting her on the little sofa when they arrived. She was able to sit up although her head was still droopy. Mylo took a moment to study her closer in the light. He frowned slightly.

“Why were you guys so rough?” he asked. “She has a bruise on her face.”

“Bret dropped her,” Trina explained, and Bret made a spluttering noise. Mylo took a calming breath and ran a hand through his black hair. It was a bit overgrown and always wound up disheveled because he was frequently running his hands through it in frustration.

“Of course he did,” Mylo muttered.

“I didn’t really drop her,” Bret grumbled. “I went up to gag her and kinda…knocked her over. I didn’t expect her to be all limp and boneless.”

“Better than brainless,” Trina snickered and Bret flipped her off.

“Enough,” Mylo said. They were the two youngest in the group and had a habit of sniping at each other. Mylo leaned down and pulled the gag off the girl’s face.

“Can you talk?” he asked. “What’s your name?”

“Sh…Shila,” she said. Her words sounded slurred. She was either drunk or drugged. Mylo sat back slightly on his heels.

“She’s not nobility,” he said.

“She could just be a visiter from some other wealthy family,” Lola suggested.

“Somehow I doubt it,” Mylo replied. “The dress doesn’t fit her right, and the shoes are too big. Her hair wasn’t pinned carefully and her nails aren’t perfectly manicured. She’s most likely a servant.”

“So did she steal the dress and the jewelry?” Luis spoke up for the first time; he and his twin brother Bran were generally men of few words. Shila made another noise of protest.

“I didn’t…didn’t steal,” she said.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Mylo said. “We’ll take the jewelry tomorrow. Buy any supplies you need and give the rest to people in town who need it. Lola, you can get Shila here something else to wear, and then we can sell the dress. And then you can head off on your merry way.” Mylo patted Shila’s shoulder, causing her to fall over onto her side on the sofa. She glared at him. He turned to the others.

“Go get some rest,” he told them. “I’ll keep an eye on our guest.”

They dispersed and Mylo sat down on the hearth, polishing a dagger to pass the time and ignoring the way Shila was glowering at him. He even whistled a little. After another hour or so, whatever had been in her system seemed to wear off and she was able to push herself up.

“You kidnapped me,” she croaked.

“I’d say I rescued you,” Mylo replied mildly. “Or would you have preferred to be found by the townspeople and roasted alive?”

“Who are you?”

“That’s really of no significance to you, as you won’t be staying,” Mylo replied, spinning the dagger through his fingers before setting it aside.

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” she said. “My house kind of burned to the ground, remember? Thanks to rebels, which I assume you are?”

“Fair, but I didn’t personally set the house on fire,” Mylo said. “And you must have somewhere to go. Family you can stay with, or maybe a suitor to take you in?”

She blushed. “No, I don’t have any of that.”

“A convent?” he suggested and she pursed her lips in annoyance.

“I have nowhere to go and I don’t even have any possessions since everything I owned was at the mansion. I’ll just stay here.”

Mylo choked, shaking his head. “No, you won’t.”

“Unless you plan on tying me up again and trekking all the way to another town to drop me off, then I am,” she said stubbornly.

“This is a rebel camp,” he told her.

“Well you brought me here,” she pointed out.

“That was neither an invitation nor a recruitment tactic.”

“You have my hands tied up.”

“Standard precaution.”

“I’ll give you the dress and the jewelry. I don’t care about them anyway. But if you untie me now and let me stay, I can tell you whatever you want to know about the Emory’s. I worked for them for three years.”

Mylo stared at her through narrowed eyes. This girl had no business getting mixed up in a rebellion. He had enough to deal with already, trying to keep his own crew alive.

“You’re probably still loopy,” he said finally. “We will discuss who will or will not be staying in the morning.” But he did, reluctantly, free her wrists.

“You still haven’t told me who you are,” Shila said, rubbing feeling back into her hands.

He sighed. “My name is Mylo. There. Introductions are out of the way. Feel free to get some sleep before your big journey tomorrow. You know, when you leave?”

“You’re going to let me stay.”

“We’ll see about that.”

The next morning Mylo convened with the others to discuss the situation.

“She might know some useful things,” Bran admitted. “People tend to blab about all sorts of information around servants.”

“Her house did burn down,” Trina added. “And Bret dropped her.”

“I did not-“

“Maybe…we just let her stay for a few days?” Lola suggested.

Mylo rolled his eyes heavenward. “You are all fired.”