Young Sherlock Holmes_ Red Leech - Andrew Lane [105]
He recognized it now. It was one of Duke Balthas-sar’s cougars. That meant the other one was probably out there somewhere. And that meant Duke Balthassar was out there too.
His horse was paralysed with shock: eyes wide and lips pulled back over exposed teeth. It wasn’t going anywhere; not with the cougars around. Sherlock slipped from the saddle, heart pounding in his chest. He was tired, he was hungry and he was thirsty. He didn’t want this. Not now. Not here.
But he didn’t think he had a choice.
He walked forward, into the moonlight at the mouth of the rocky gully.
Duke Balthassar stood a few feet to one side. He was still wearing his white suit, white hat and white porcelain mask, but he had a revolver strapped to his thigh. Behind his right ear Sherlock could see the red leech gleaming wetly in the moonlight, the only spot of colour in the entire scene. It seemed to pulse slightly as Sherlock watched.
The cougar which had leaped for Sherlock and his horse was by Balthassar’s side, tail flicking restlessly. Sherlock noticed how it kept casting glances up at the red leech. It seemed nervous, frightened even. The other cougar wasn’t in sight.
‘Sherlock Scott Holmes,’ Balthassar said, his voice barely perceptible over the sound of the wind. ‘I fear we are fated to keep meeting, like Shakespeare’s star-crossed lovers.’
‘What are you doing here?’ Sherlock asked simply.
‘I was looking for you,’ Balthassar replied. ‘When I found my dear reptiles still hungry and my observation gallery flooded, I could only assume you and your plucky friends had escaped. You knew too much: I had to track you down and deal with you. My cougars picked up your scent just outside the town and we followed you here, to the hills.’ He paused, head cocked to one side. ‘I must admit, I had expected you to go into the town, but instead you came out here. Why?’
Sherlock thought for a moment. Balthassar must have confused two different trails: the one that Sherlock, Matty and Virginia had left as they went towards Perseverance and the one Sherlock and his horse had left as they went away from the town. That meant Balthassar didn’t know that his plans had been exposed yet. Should Sherlock tell him?
If Balthassar knew that it was too late, that his army had already been discovered, then he would have no reason for killing Sherlock. In theory, at least.
‘The Union Army already know about the invasion of Canada,’ Sherlock told him. ‘There’s no point in going ahead now. Just call it off, Balthassar. You can save a lot of lives.’
Silence, as Balthassar considered what Sherlock had said. It wasn’t possible to tell what he was thinking behind the white mask.
‘How long have they known for?’ he asked eventually.
‘Long enough that there’s no chance your army will ever get to the border.’
‘In that case, what are you doing out here?’ Balthassar asked.
‘The Unionists were preparing to drop explosives on your men. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to stop it.’
‘I presume that was due to some form of misguided nobility, rather than agreement with the Confederate way of life?’
‘I just don’t want to see any more people die,’ Sherlock replied wearily.
Balthassar shook his head. ‘Do you expect me to be grateful?’ he asked, and suddenly there was a grating tone of anger in his voice.
Sherlock felt tiredness weighing him down like a lead weight on his shoulders. ‘I don’t expect anything,’ he said. ‘I’m not doing this for you, or for anyone else. I’m doing it for me. For what I believe.’
‘Then you’ve wasted your time,’ Balthassar snapped. ‘The invasion goes ahead, despite everything you have told me.’
‘Then your people will be rounded up, and if they choose to fight then there will be a battle.’
‘And people will die anyway,’ Balthassar snarled. ‘So you have failed.’
‘I can’t control the world,’ Sherlock pointed out. ‘Just the bits I can reach. At least I’ve done what I can to stop a massacre. The rest is up to you, and