The Translated Man and Other Stories by Chris Braak

Author:Chris Braak
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery, Fantasy
ISBN: 9780982888421
Publisher: Threat Quality Press
Published: 2009-02-14T00:00:00+00:00

Seventeen: Valentine’s Story

Harry the carriage-driver had led Skinner into the Raithower office of the Coroners. He was concerned for her safety, which is why Skinner held back the urge to kick him in the shin and say that she was perfectly capable of finding her way into her own office, thank you very much. Once they’d gotten inside, Harry had breathlessly explained to Karine about the hundred men who’d come to kill Valentine, and how he was facing them down even as they spoke, and surely soon a whole battalion of Lobstermen would be crashing the gates of Raithower House. Karine immediately took charge of Skinner’s protection, and with all concern helped her find a comfortable seat on the couch.

Skinner growled inwardly, but was pleased to note that she kept the sour expression off of her face. The indige arrived with tea; Skinner heard the silver spoon clink on porcelain as Karine scooped sugar into a mug.

“Karine,” Skinner asked, gently taking the hot cup. “Would you please look out the window and see if Valentine is coming? I think I can hear his footsteps.”

“He is, Miss Skinner,” Karine said after a moment. “There’s some men chasing after him. He’s running for the gates now. The guards are opening them…”

“Does it look like he’s going to make it?”

“I think so . . . wait. He tripped! No, he’s up again. He’s past the gates now, and the guards have closed them. They are yelling at the other men. Harry’s on top of the coach, waving his rifle around and shouting. I suspect he means to shoot someone.”

“I can hear them, Karine, I just can’t see them.” She took a sip from her teacup. “What’s Valentine doing? He isn’t saying anything.”

“He’s lying on his back, miss. On the flagstones.”

“Oh.” They waited. Skinner drank some more tea. “Is he still there?”

“Yes.”

It was several minutes before Valentine burst through the office door, face flushed and still panting. “You…” he said. “...wouldn’t…believe. How far I had…to run.”

“I would,” Skinner told him. “I came the same way. In the coach.”

“But I had to run. Fast. The . . . men. They had . . . sticks and things.”

“I’m sure it was very hard. Do you want tea?”

Valentine was silent for a long moment. “No.” His voice was sullen.

After a moment, Skinner heard him sit, and the tell-tale clinking sound of porcelain teacups. She smiled.

“So,” Valentine asked between gulps of tea. “Do we know anything?”

“Not unless you found out something spectacularly interesting on the run up here. Or when you disappeared…”

“Oh!”

“Yes?”

“No,” there was a sound of more clinking teacups. “Burned myself.” He paused. “I did find…well, something. I was going to wait until I could tell Beckett, too…” He cleared his throat. “So, I was setting up the cordon around Zindel’s home…”

“Like you were ordered to.”

Valentine groaned. “Fine. Right. Like I was ordered to. And after about an hour, I see this coach pull up. The driver looks at the house, looks at the cordon, he seems like he’s confused.

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