Rook’s Gambit

Chapter 0 ~ Petty Revenge Power Play

Doctor Clotworthy’s Finest Itching Inducer. Completely natural! One-hundred percent pure ground rose hips. No harsh chemicals…

Varick trailed off from reading. Why did it matter that a prank was all natural? Was there really such a strong demand in the joke shop industry for such things? He shrugged to himself and looked back through the large, stone entryway, back to the stables where his grandfather, Randolph, was busy petting Tallywags. Rudely-named, ill-tempered but highly bribable, and, ironically, a gelding, Tallywags was Randolph’s favorite horse.

The stables were quiet at this time of night. All the stablehands had left hours ago to have dinner and attend to whatever people who actually had to work for a living did after their workday had ended. Even knowing this, Varick listened hard for anyone besides himself and his grandfather. Only the gentle noises of sleepy horse breathing resounded. Well, that and Randolph’s soft words to the beloved animal, and the occasional crunch of apple slices.

“Better hurry up,” Randolph cooed, letting the horse lip another piece out of him palm.

The soft words floated easily through to Varick, just inside the attached carriage house. In the stall next to Tallywags’, Silken Sunflower was stirring. They should have brought more treats. She’d make a fuss if she saw her neighbor getting goodies and not her, so Varick returned his attention to the mission. He’d read the safety precautions three times already—don’t breathe it in, don’t let it get onto your skin or into your eyes, don’t leave within reach of children. That last one made Varick grin. He was still a child, technically, for the next year and a halfish.

Wearing an old pair of leather gloves, he carefully unscrewed the lid of the jar and set it aside, onto the mounting step of his older brother’s phaeton, a sleek, sporty little open-topped carriage. Then, covering his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his evening jacket, Varick began to sprinkle the phaeton’s seat with the fine powder. It shone like dust motes in the faint light of the petrolsene lamps they’d just barely turned on, before disappearing into the plush, velvet upholstery. If anyone asked, they were here to visit Tallywags, which wasn’t a lie, just not the whole truth.

That was how Varick and Randolph survived the rest of the scorpion nest that was their family. The other members of the Pendragon clan were always trying to take, take, take—joy, confidence, secrets, peace of mind, pride, anything they could—so Randolph had taught Varick long ago how to only give over the barest bits of information, never anything extra.

Silken Sunflower was starting to nicker at Randolph, who showed his empty hands to her.

“Varick,” he called softly, a touch of beseeching in his voice.

Silken Sunflower wasn’t buying it. She shook her head and stretched her nose toward Randolph’s waistcoat pocket.

“I’m nearly done!” Varick whisper-called back. He’d faced away from the phaeton before removing his face from his sleeve to answer. Maybe he was being overly cautious, but he didn’t want to risk inhaling the fine powder.

While Varick sprinkled the last bit of fine, velvet seating with Doctor Clotworthy’s Finest Itching Inducer, Randolph allowed Silken Sunflower to explore his pockets, which left small, golden hairs across the expertly woven fabric. She might start throwing a tantrum otherwise.

“Done!” Varick announced.

It would not teach Magnus not to leave cat poo outside the door of Varick’s apartments after the housemaids had been in—though better outside his door to end up on his freshly shined shoes than under his pillow and worse, which was why precisely Varick kept his doors locked. No, Magnus could not know Varick was behind his future itching fit, so the lunkhead would learn nothing. But Varick would feel some small, twisted sense of victory while his brother harmlessly suffered. No members of staff could be blamed, so no one would be unfairly sacked—Varick had checked this with Randolph, just in case there was some risk he hadn’t thought of. And though his grandfather never partook directly in Varick’s petty revenges, he’d long been there as a sort of guide. You didn’t hurt the innocent, no matter how badly you yourself were hurting. That was the rule. It was frustrating at times, but Varick agreed. Randolph had taught him to understand power dynamics and fairness, or rather, the unfairness of the world.

Tonight had not been frustrating, though. Tonight had been a complete success! After securely re-capping the bottle and carefully doffing his gloves into a small pouch he’d attached to his belt, Varick quickly but quietly scuttled back over to where Randolph was letting Silken Sunflower snuffle, rootle, and shed over his entire person for treats. A piece of dropped apple lay nearby, half-hidden under a bit of hay sticking out from stall door. Varick wasted no time in plying the spoiled, amber mare with it. That settled her, and when Varick turned back to his grandfather, he found the man examining the damage to his attire.

“She really went for it,” he said, holding up a half-detached, cracked button.

Then Randolph began to sway. He caught himself on the nearby stall bars, just as Varick had begun to reach for him. The man was chuckling before Varick could even speak.

“That wine tonight at dinner must have gone to my head,” he said. “I am getting to be a lightweight these days.”

Varick examined his grandfather. He was already back to looking at his clothes, albeit with one hand still gripping the bars of Silken Sunflower’s stall.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked.

“Of course, of course.” Randolph gestured toward the pouch at Varick’s hip, and it’s itchy contents. “Just make sure none of that rubs off on you or any of your other clothes. Or misery will have what it loves best.”

Varick smiled. Magnus had plans to go driving tomorrow. He wouldn’t shut up about it at dinner that night. Varick couldn’t wait to see how his idiot brother fared by tomorrow evening.

“I’ll repair you button for you if you want,” Varick volunteered as the two made their way out of the stables. “There’s a new technique I just read about that I’d like to try. I can show you if you want.”

“And so the pupil has become the teacher,” Randolph said, his dark eyes warm and twinkling. He put a hand on Varick’s shoulder and gave it a loving squeeze. “I’m proud of you.”

Varick beamed, and they plodded up the path and back around to the family house together.

Out of the Shadows

Into the Fire

Across the Ice

Raven’s Cry