Page 5 of Unearthing the Smuggler's Heart
"Well, this is the last one, isn't it?" he pointed out. "The final song of the Silver Leaf Society. I simply want to ensure its success."
Isabelle exchanged a glance with her husband, who had taken to paring off chunks of apple for Maggie Cooper. Something unspoken passed between them, stopping Peter's hand on the mutilated fruit. Whatever went unsaid was palpable enough that Mathias felt a twang of nervousness in his belly.
His mother had been one of the founding members of the Silver Leaf Society, some twenty-odd years ago. So had Isabelle’s mother, and Peter’s aunt. Their mission was a simple one: smuggling people stranded by the war back to their families, on one coast or the other. Smuggling requires gold, and so the operation had grown accordingly, creating a small but effective network of spies throughout the domain of the war and trading in rescue, contraband, and secrets.
It had been Mathias’s whole world for so long that he couldn’t imagine anything beyond it. Surely there would still be work to do in theaftermathof the war. Surely they still had a job to do.
Didn’t they?
"Magpie, do you want to see your mama?" Isabelle said suddenly, shifting her focus so quickly onto the child that Mathias found himself jarred out of his paranoia. The little girl perked up at the attention, and put her arms out to Isabelle to be swept away. "Come, I will take you over, and perhaps we might speak to her friend as well, hm? And then we will hunt for more eggs."
"Eggs!" Maggie replied enthusiastically as the pair departed the picnic blanket, vanishing quickly into the muddle of guests.
Mathias grimaced as he watched her march across the lawn with the child on her hip, waving in greeting to Gigi, Nell, and the young woman he had been studying from a distance as she approached. God knew what she'd say to them.
He turned back to look at Peter, who was staring at him with that concerned, overly serious expression that he wore so often. It was Mathias's least favorite of Peter's moods, all of which he wore on his face with the exaggeration of a dancing clown. The only thing to do when the man got into a state of professorial disapproval was to redirect the conversation, as quickly as possible.
"You both have a way with little ones," he said quickly, catching the way Peter's mouth had already begun to open and form words of concern. "I'm surprised you haven't any of your own yet."
"Ah," Peter said, running a hand through his dark flop of hair. "I'm afraid that after my sister had the twins, Isabelle became quite terrified of the same befalling us. I haven't told her that my grandfather was a twin as well, as I imagine that would only cement her hesitation to undertake the entire endeavor."
Mathias laughed outright. "I didn't know Isabelle was afraid of anything at all! But I suppose that particular prospect is terrifying to most people. Even Nell and Nathaniel seemed unprepared for two children instead of one."
"They're good girls," Peter said of his two-year-old nieces. "So far."
"But you want children?"
"Of course we do," Peter said wearily, slipping his spectacles off and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Come now, Mathias. You aren't as distracting as you think you are."
Damn.
Mathias sighed. "What is it, then?"
"She is worried about you," Peter began, as gently as he could, straightening his posture and leveling Mathias in his gaze. "You have not been yourself since the war ended. You volunteered for this mission the day the treaty was signed, knowing nothing at all about the task or the girl. I think that is the only reason Isabelle has agreed to go along with you."
"She is going along with me because she is necessary," he countered. "And you are still welcome as well. Think of the opportunity you are missing, Peter. One last ride for Robin Hood and his merry men. The last chapter of our epoch."
"This is exactly why we are worried."
"You saidshewas worried," Mathias snapped, narrowing his eyes at his friend. "Don't tell me you are too. What exactly do you think I'm going to do? Incite another war to keep myself busy?"
"Whatareyou going to do?" Peter pressed. "After this mission, after the world starts to return to the way it was again, what will you do, Mathias?"
"The way it was?" Mathias repeated, not liking at all the way his chest tied itself into a knot at the question. "How was it, pray tell? Neither of us remember a time before war."
"It isn't an alien concept. There will be open trade routes for one, no more need of smuggling as international commerce restores its footing. It is not as though you have never known peace, Mathias. There have been years at a time that war has quieted. What did you do then?"
"There was never truly peace. It was simply easier sometimes to transport the displaced back to their homes under the watchful eyes of the powers that be." Mathias paused, considering what Peter was saying, and brightened, realizing his friend had a good point. "You are right, though. War seems to end and then always seems to come back in short order."
"Not this time," Peter said, frowning. "Not after what happened at Waterloo."
"Doesn't have to be France, does it? Perhaps we are due for another colony uprising or some such, hm? That'll keep me occupied. I'm sure it's only a matter of time."
"Mathias."
"Peter, I am fine. I'm a resourceful chap, as you know. Everything will be well, no matter how the future unfolds."
Exasperation was writ large on Peter Applegate's face, apparently overpowering his attempts at retaining an overall manner of compassion. It was tempting to simply push him into a temper, which would surely end the interrogation currently underway.
