Lord Day and Lady Night

50. Surprise Hospital Inspection

"'onourable." Amy nodded approvingly as she watched him pull his sword from a man's gullet. "Very 'onourable indeed."

"Amy?"

"Aye?"

"Let's concentrate on the secret mission against the most depraved villain of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, shall we?"

"Sounds spiffin'."

It only took them a few minutes to reach the bottom of the tower. They didn't meet any more guards on the way. What they did encounter, however, cut off all attempts at levity.

"So..." Amy's voice sounded distant in Lord Patrick's ears, as if from coming within a distant bank of fog. "Now we know why dere were three of dose guards down 'ere in dis isolated tower."

"She...she..." Numbly, Lord Patrick kneeled next to the crumpled figure on the floor, feeling her pulse. Or at least the place where her pulse should have been. "She's dead. After doing what they did to her...why did they have to kill her? She was no threat to them whatsoever! Why did they have to kill her?"

Only when he felt Amy's hand on his shoulder did he realize he was trembling.

"Dere's some dat get off on it. Dere's some dat just don't care." Part of him wondered why she sounded so calm and composed. He was a man! He was supposed to be unfazed by violence and death! "Why would dey? Ye only use a disposable once before throwin' it in da trash."

Lord Patrick felt his fists clench.

"Amy?"

"Aye?"

"Let's go."

"Aye."

Taking the last few steps to the very bottom of the tower, he threw open the door and raised his sword—only to be met with the welcome sight of eighteen black-clad, heavily armed men.

"So, Mr Karim sent you this way? Good. Very good." Twirling his sword, Lord Patrick strode out into the courtyard, his gaze zeroing in on one particular building at the very opposite end. A building from which certain...enthusiastic male noises were rising into the night. "Follow me. We are going to pay a little visit to the gentlemen amusing themselves over there."

***

By the time Amy and the others reached the castle's former infirmary, the noises of fervent fornicating from inside had subsided—and it wasn't particularly hard to guess why. The broken-down door and sabre marks along the entryway provided Amy with a pretty good hint. So did the curses in Punjabi that split the night a moment later.

"Khaṛhō atē laṛō, phiṭā-kaṭē kukaṛa dē putarō! Khaṛē hōvō atē laṛō!"

"Wha—! Who da 'ell are ye? What are ye doing 'e—"

Wham!

A man came sailing through the open door and slammed into the ground, unconscious. His fly was partly undone, and his nose sat at a jaunty, yet not entirely healthy, angle. Amy and Patrick gazed down at the man for a long moment—then Lord Patrick moved past him towards the door, taking care to step on the unconscious man's face on the way.

Hm...seems like 'is Lordship has revised 'is definition of 'onour.

A grim smile spread across Amy's face. Things were about to get interesting.

"Ye three stay be'ind me," she ordered the trio of girls and, with a flick of her hand she hoped Flo didn't notice, gestured for one of the men to keep an eye on them. "Da rest of ye, spread out. Take down anything with bollocks, and be quiet about it."