d'Artagnan And Her Musketeers (The Cosette D'Artagnan Romances, book 1)

Chapter 8: The Court of Miracles

Cosette wasn't easy around this place. She saw that the inhabitants were taking whatever weapons they had and beating them against the banisters they were near. Either they were trying to intimidate them or they were just doing it because they were bored. But it was obviously the first choice.

"Why are they doing that?" Cosette asked in annoyance

"It's a warning," Aramis answered. He looked to see Cosette reaching for her sword. "Do nothing, unless you're attacked."

"So, where are we?" Cosette asked.

"The Court of Miracles," Athos answered.

"This is too dangerous. We should turn back." says Aramis.

"What about Porthos?" Cosette asked.

"He'll be safe for now," said Aramis. "He has friends here."

She moves as Athos put his hand on Cosette's shoulder. Now Cosette was filled with questions: why would Porthos have friends in the Court of Miracles? And how did Athos and Aramis know all these things? Her thoughts were interrupted when Athos came back for her by grabbing her by the wrist and whispered, "Do I have to tie you to my wrist? Do stay close, d'Artagnan. The Court of Miracles tend to take advantage of young Men."

"Would you two care to tell me more about Porthos? I feel I know you both more than I know him," said Cosette.

"Porthos was an orphan, born and raised here." Said Aramis.

"Among thieves?" Cosette said. She looked at the criminals around them. He never said a word. Aramis looked back at her.

"Little touchy about it."

"So, why do they call it the Court of Miracles?"

"Because entering it opens the eyes of blind men. And gives more cripples the use of their legs than our Lord ever did."

Athos said all those things to a young man as he expressed good as one who was in perfect health. He handed the boy coins.

"Buy an instrument," said Athos. "You have the hands of a musician." The boy nodded. Back to Cosette, she was going to help prove that Porthos did nothing of the sort to kill that boy.

"So, what do we do now?" she asked.

"I'll go into the Court to find Porthos. D'Art, Aramis, Go to the Wren. See what you can find out.

"Athos," Cosette said. He looked back at her as she put a hand on his shoulder. "I hope you don't die in there." Athos raised an eyebrow.

"Good luck to you, too, d'Artagnan," Athos said, giving her one of his rate small grins. Cosette nodded. She went to follow Aramis to the Wren, where they would talk with the drunk woman that Porthos had mentioned earlier. of course, it wasn't hard finding her.

"Pardon, Madame," Aramis said. He took off his hat. "I am Aramis of the Kings Musketeers." He pointed at Cosette as he sat down. "This is my friend d'Artagnan."

"Musketeers huh?" The drunk woman said. "Here to talk about that young man who got shot?"

Aramis and Cosette were shocked to hear she knew. Apparently, news travels fast in Paris.

After a moment of silence, she asked, "Is it raining Musketeers outside?"

" I'm guessing you saw our friend here," said Aramis. He was sitting across from her while Cosette stood by a nearby beanpole with her arms crossed.

"Yes. Tall, better-looking than you." Aramis was a little shocked. The women around here found Aramis to be the handsome one.

"There's no accounting for taste," Aramis said. Cosette gave nothing but a smile. "Did you talk to him?

"He bought me a drink. He was a gentleman."

"And did you notice anything unusual, Madame?" Cosette asked.

"There was an argument involving a young man."

"Did you know this young man?" Aramis asked.

"Never seen him before," said the drunk woman. "He didn't look the type to drink here."

Aramis figured what the woman wanted. He offered her up a bag of money. The drunk woman smiled.

"Now I look properly, I can see you're the handsome one," the old woman said with a smile.

Aramis and Cosette went back to the scene of the crime where Porthos and the dead boy had been found. One question was on their minds: "Where's the blood?

"I saw a man take a musket ball in a street fight once. Pff! Contents of his skull painted a pretty picture all around. And yet there's not a drop of blood...or a shard of bone."

"He wasn't shot here." Cosette said. Aramis nodded. Cosette helped him back up.

"Perhaps we should pay a call on the victim himself. See what he has to say about it."

"I didn't know you could talk to people from the other side, 'Mis," Cosette joked

"Unfortunately, D'Artagnan, I cannot," Aramis joked back.

Cosette followed Aramis to the morgue but she could tell her was worrying about Porthos.

"Aramis, I can see you are worried," Cosette said. He looked to her in confusion. "About Porthos?"

"D'Artagnan, I am not worried," Aramis deadpanned, but he refused to admit that Cosette was right. "Porthos is surrounded by friends. For now, he can take care of himself in that Court of Miracles."

"Uh, yes, you are worried about him. He's your best friend. So are Athos and me."

"You are more than just friends, D'Art. They are our family. Brothers. Brothers to us all."

Cosette stopped. She was unsure how to respond to that. Instead she smiled.

"You think of me as family?"

Aramis nodded at her with a smile and put a hand on her shoulder as Cosette smiled. She suddenly felt a tinge of regret. The more that Cosette was with these men the more she regretted not telling what she was. Aramis, Athos and Porthos had become like a second family to her. Very good brothers. And she couldn't let anything back. Cosette stayed in silence, making their way to the morgue. There, the person working on that poor boy began explaining their procedure. Cosette looked at the locket they found. She knew who the boy was now.

"Jean de Mauvoisin, a son of the nobility," the man at the morgue said. Cosette zoned out of the conversation, taking the key that the man told her not to touch. This science they spoke of didn't make any sense to her.

"Well, killing is not an exact science, Monsieur, but a messy business," Cosette admitted.

"And, as soldiers," Aramis said, wrapping his arm around Cosette's shoulders, " it is our business."

"The killer was no more than a foot away when the shot was fired," Aramis said. He put his hat back on. "This was no accident, d'Art. It was murder."