The Tailor and the Prince

by Pelaam

“Yes, of course you are.” Coleman’s curl of his lips was as much sneer as it was smirk, but Bertie didn’t let his anger show. “The contract may not have been signed, Bertie, but it will be our name on it. Enjoy the journey. It’s the only thing you’ll get out of the trip.”

  “Pride comes before a fall, Felton. You’d do well to remember that.” Bertie snapped the retort at Coleman’s receding back, but the only rejoinder was what might have been a derisive snort.

  “Take no notice of him, Bertie.” Tom’s touch to his hand drew Bertie’s attention back to his friend, and he sat back down.

  “He’s so … so arrogant.” Bertie grabbed Tom’s drink and took a mouthful, ignoring the burn of the whiskey. “That’s better. Sorry, Tom. I just needed something a little stronger.”

  “You’re welcome.” Tom laughed. “But don’t get too dependent on alcohol to deal with Coleman.”

  “I shan’t.” Bertie tossed his head. “He isn’t worth it.”

  “Hear, hear.” Tom picked up his glass and raised it in a salute. “Here’s to an event-free journey and bumping into Felton Coleman as little as possible.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Bertie picked up his glass, tapped it against Tom’s, and took a sip. If there was one thing Bertie was sure of, it was that he’d do all in his power to ensure he got the contract ahead of Felton Coleman.

  Chapter Six

  The journey was proving uneventful, for which Bertie was very thankful. Tom had settled surprisingly quickly in regard to travelling on the ship, provided he stayed within the body of the craft. Therefore, Bertie had taken to promenading around the deck in the evening prior to retiring for bed.

  At a slow stroll Bertie wandered around the deck, nodding at people he passed, and stopping now and then to look at the stars. Back home, he never had time for such pleasures. Standing by the rail, Bertie peered through the netting that prevented anyone toppling, or jumping, over, and tried to see something of the land below.

  A frisson ran down Bertie’s back, and he was certain someone was staring at him. Turning quickly, Bertie looked around. The only person around was a tall, slender woman, bundled up in a thick, red, fur coat.

  Although she stood in a patch of shadow, Bertie had the distinct impression she was staring at him. For a moment, he wavered on the cusp of going over to her, as if pulled by a silent siren call. Sudden heat against his collarbone made Bertie yelp softly. He reached into his shirt, but his questing fingers encountered nothing out of place.

  The sensation went as quickly as it came, and when Bertie looked up, the woman was gone. He frowned, staring around. Bertie remained where he’d been standing in the middle of the deck and had an unobstructed view both fore and aft.

  There was no direction in which the woman could have gone without him still being able to see her. At least, there shouldn’t have been. But she was nowhere in sight. Bertie shivered, suddenly very cold. He took out his pocket watch. There were ten minutes he couldn’t account for.

  Putting the watch back in its place, Bertie strode quickly to the nearest door that led back inside the airship. I shan’t be walking out here alone again.

  ****

  When the airship finally docked, Bertie saw no need for them to immediately rush off and be caught up in the crush to disembark. The bar still offered refreshments, and Bertie sat with Tom, having a last drink before leaving.

  At a signal from one of the crewmen, Bertie stood and finished the last of his drink. “Time to move, Tom. I can hardly believe we’re here. We just need to collect our luggage and make our way to the far side of the port. The train station is there, and the next part of our journey takes us straight to the prince’s province. According to the letter Father received, when the train arrives, there’ll be transport to take us directly to the prince’s palace.”

  “I’ll be glad to get there.” Tom pursed his lips. “Although a train journey is better than an airship, I’m looking forward to having a break from travel altogether.”

  “Don’t worry.” Bertie patted Tom’s shoulder. “Once we’re in the palace, you can relax and keep your feet securely on terra firma until we have to leave.”

  “Well, at least that’s a relief.” Tom grinned at Bertie, then his smile became a frown. “What are those idiots doing with our cases?” He pointed to a couple of porters wheeling their luggage in the wrong direction.

  “Hey, that’s the wrong way.” Tom shouted out, but the porters must have been too far away to hear. “Hey, wait a minute.” Tom yelled as the porters scurried away in the wrong direction with their cases.

  “When will something be straightforward?” Bertie rolled his eyes, then his blood ran cold. Tom had set off after the porters, but another couple of men attacked him, dragging him into what looked to Bertie like a huge warehouse.

  Without hesitation, Bertie gave chase after them. “Hold on, Tom. I’m on my way.” Dashing into the warehouse, Bertie tossed his carpet bag aside to free his hands.

  However, it seemed Bertie’s rescue attempt was expected, and as he rushed to help his friend, another couple of men jumped him. Bertie struggled furiously, but to no avail, unable to break free of the men who held him.

  Instead, Bertie tried yelling loudly for help. The last thing Bertie heard were his attackers speaking quickly in their native tongue, before a sharp blow to his skull turned his world black.

  With a soft groan, Bertie opened his eyes. He had no idea how long he’d been unconscious, and the darkness of the warehouse gave no indication of the time of day. He’d been positioned so that he sat with his back to Tom’s, so Bertie couldn’t see if his friend was hurt. His own head still rang from the blow to the base of his skull.

  “Are you all right, Tom? Sorry I wasn’t much help.” Bertie was angry with himself, but knew he needed to channel that anger into something more productive.

  “I’m fine, Bertie. They got the cases, though.” Tom’s voice was a little shaky. “They hit me over the head. Think I may have blacked out for a while.”

  “Yes, me, too. But they didn’t get the carpetbag. At least the clothing for the prince is still safe. But there’s another issue. There was only a short window of opportunity to catch the train from here to the prince’s province. Miss that and it’s another couple of days until the train is back and ready to return. I have no idea how many other trains we’d need to replace it.”

  “Then we can’t remain stuck here can we, Bertie?” There was an edge of strain to Tom’s voice. “Let’s hope they didn’t do these ropes too well.”

  “I can barely move my hands.” Bertie winced as the rope dug in.

  “I think there’s a bit of give in mine.” Tom grunted, and Bertie felt the way his friend struggled with his bonds. “I think I have it, Bertie. Just … another … minute.” The strain in Tom’s voice made Bertie clench his jaw even tighter, but all his own attempts to get free had failed.

  “Done it. Give me a minute.”

  The sound of Tom’s gasping breaths concerned Bertie, and he worried his friend had hurt himself in his attempt to get free.

  “Are you all right, Tom?” Bertie wished he could see his friend, but the column to which he was tied was too wide for him to see around.

  “Bit sore. Nothing permanent. Let me see about freeing you.”

  As usual, Tom was the master of the understatement. When he came to offer Bertie a reassuring smile and hold up the makeshift blade for cutting him free, Bertie saw the way his friend had rubbed his wrists raw. They were still bloody, and Bertie winced.

  “We need to get those dressed. Then we need to see about getting ourselves to the palace. I can’t believe Felton would be so underhand.”

  “Seems to me they’ve employed their most underhand man to get the job done. If he takes me on man to man, it will be a different story.” Tom clenched his hands into fists as Bertie slowly brought his arms to his chest.

  Not only did Bertie’s hands feel numb, but the muscles in his arms, particularly in his shoul
ders, ached, protesting painfully at the change in position.

  “You may be right, at that.” With a soft groan, Bertie got to his feet. “Come on. We’ll get those wrists attended to, then we need to find a swift method of transport to get us to the palace. I don’t imagine the prince will be impressed if we’re late, and we have no physical proof to offer that Felton did this.”

  “If he gets there first, we’ll be on the back foot. We have to find a way.”

  “I want you cared for, Tom.” Bertie snatched up his carpetbag which he’d tossed aside in his haste to help Tom. Bertie glanced inside, pleased to see that the contents were all still intact, and grinned at Tom.

  “At least they’ll waste time and energy on my trunk while the valuable items are in here.” Bertie held the bag aloft like a trophy, then stomped toward the warehouse door in the distance. “While you’re having those wrists dressed, I shall find some form of transport for us.”

  With Tom at his side, Bertie led the way back into the airship port. He marched up to one of the liveried porters.

  “My name is Bertram Blackwood of the British company Blackwood and Son. We were attacked by brigands and our luggage stolen. My associate has been hurt and I need him attending to by a doctor while I procure transport, since we’ve missed our train.”

  The porter peered closely at both men before bowing and leading them to a desk. Bertie wished he spoke the language as the doorman chatted to the receptionist. The lady was impeccably made-up with her decorated and lacquered hair, powdered face, and painted lips, but Bertie felt that he was looking at someone hiding behind a mask when she turned her attention to him.

  “I do apologize for what’s befallen you, Mr. Blackwood. We have a medical facility here at the airship port for those who feel unwell. I can have your associate taken there while we deal with your issue around travelling on.” Although accented, the receptionist’s English was perfect, and Bertie felt a weight lift from his shoulders.

  “I’d be very grateful, madam. Thank you.”

  The porter bowed, indicating the direction for Tom to take before hurrying ahead of him.

  “Where will you be, Bertie?” Tom asked.

  “I’ll wait here for you. Hurry up.” Bertie gently pushed Tom after the porter and then turned back to the receptionist with a wide smile. “As I understand it, the train to prince Ichirou’s province runs from here, takes more than a full day’s travel, so that the one I missed today arrives there late evening tomorrow. It then overnights there, to return here late in the evening the day after that, and so on. If I wait for it to come back, I will be excessively late, given I’m expected tomorrow night.”

  “I see, sir. You wish some form of transport to get there tomorrow, the same as the train?”

  “I do indeed, madam. I’m expected by Prince Ichirou himself. It simply will not do to arrive late. My reputation will be ruined. All because of brigands and robbers.”

  The last thing Bertie could admit was that the attack was by anyone else. He’d clearly engaged the young lady’s sympathies with the fabrication about being robbed—although that wasn’t entirely a lie—but to say a business rival was responsible might lose him some consideration.

  The receptionist ran a perfectly manicured finger down several pages of writing that were totally incomprehensible to Bertie. “There may be someone. Let me see.” The receptionist reached for a telephone and dialed.

  In an effort not to seem impatient, Bertie looked away, but as beautiful as the port was, his mind kept going to the fact that each minute that passed made it increasingly less likely Bertie would get to the palace in time.

  Even if he’d spoken the language, Bertie doubted he could have kept up with the conversation the receptionist was having. When she replaced the receiver, she tapped the papers again.

  “There may be someone with transport willing to take you. When your colleague returns, I shall have you escorted to a nearby hotel. There are seats over there for you to wait. Thank you.”

  As polite as it was, Bertie recognized a dismissal when he heard one. Not that he blamed the receptionist. Other customers were gathering, and she’d done all he could have asked of her.

  “Yes. Thank you.” Bertie gave her a quick bow, then went to sit down. Bertie only had to wait a few minutes before he spotted Tom striding toward him. “How are your wrists?” Bertie asked as soon as Tom reached him.

  “Not as sore. The doctor put salve on them and gave me some potion or other to help with the pain. He said the dressings must be changed daily until they start healing, but he’s wrapped them well since I explained I couldn’t do anything for at least another full day, possibly longer. Do we have a way to get to the palace?”

  “Yes. Some form of transport is available. Perhaps there’s a goods train that runs to the province.”

  “It will be nice to travel on good solid terra firma for a while.” Tom flexed his wrists as if testing the bandages covering them. “Where do we go?”

  “The receptionist will tell us. Give me a moment.” Bertie took his place behind two others and waited until he got back in front of the receptionist.

  The moment she saw him, the receptionist waved for a porter to come to the desk and spoke to the man.

  “If you please, follow the porter, he will take you to the nearest hotel. You will doubtless want to wash and refresh yourselves after your ordeal.” The receptionist handed him a scroll of paper. “The cost of bathing, food, and some clean clothing, will be met by us as recompense for such a poor start to your stay in our country.”

  “Well, that’s very generous of you. Very generous indeed. Thank you.” Bertram tucked the scroll into his jacket. “And our transport?”

  “Someone will come. They know who to ask for. Thank you.” The receptionist made it very clear that the conversation was at an end by studiously looking down at her paperwork. The porter bowed several times as if trying to attract Bertie’s attention.

  “This way.” The porter pointed ahead, and Bertie sighed.

  “It seems the best we can do, Tom. Come on.” With Tom matching him step for step, all Bertie could do was hope whatever arrangements the receptionist had made would get him to the prince’s province as the train would have done.

  Chapter Seven

  The porter led them to a hotel where a rapid-fire exchange took place between him and the man at the desk. At a gesture from the porter, Bertie produced the scroll which the clerk read carefully, his expression somber, then he nodded and waved the porter away.

  “I am very sorry to hear of your experience, Blackwood-san. If you and your companion will please take a seat, I shall organize baths, refreshments, and clothing for you.”

  “Thank you. Much appreciated. Come along, Tom.” Bertie went over to the seating dotted around the foyer. “I sincerely hope we’re not here for too long. Although the bath and food would be well received, we don’t want to lose too much time.”

  “You just say the word, Bertie, I’m ready.”

  “Well, we’re in the hands of whoever has the transport the lady in the station procured for us. I do hope it’s fast and comfortable.”

  Although Bertie was keen for them to be on their way, the bath was wonderfully relaxing, the food simple, but tasty and filling, and the clothing made both him and Tom look like locals.

  Or it would, were it not for the paleness of his skin. Bertie decided that there was little to do other than accept the hospitality offered and be happy that Tom could take time to relax. After their horrendous experience in the warehouse, his friend deserved it.

  An hour later, Tom had gone to bed to rest, but Bertie now paced the floor of the sitting room, unable to truly appreciate its beauty or comfort. Time was ticking by, and there was still no word of how they were meant to travel.

  At a rap on the door, Bertie hurried over. A young man stood there, his hands clutched tightly together.

  On seeing Bertie, the young man bowed low, then looked curiously at him. “Are yo
u Blackwood-san?”

  “Yes, I’m Bertram Blackwood. May I help you?”

  “Oh, no, sir. I am here to help you. My name is Hayate. Madam from the airport reception called me. You need to travel quickly?”

  “Well, yes. Yes, I do. We missed the train to Kaiyo province and we’re expected by the prince. I can’t wait for the train to return. I’ll be far too late.”

  “Ah, yes. I see. Well, I do have transport. We can leave quite soon. How many will travel, much luggage?” Hayate asked, as his gaze flitted up and down from Bertie’s head to his toes.

  “There’s myself and a friend.” Bertie pursed his lips. “Very little luggage. A couple of bags.”

  “The friend. Is he slender like you?” Hayate cocked his head.

  “Well, no. Tom is taller and broader in comparison. But not overly so. What does it matter?”

  “I have transport, but I need to have an idea of weight, numbers, and amount of luggage. My gondola isn’t a very large one, but it will carry three very easily indeed, especially if there’s little baggage to carry.” Hayate gave a wide smile, and Bertie’s heart sank.

  “Gondola? Is your transport a hot air balloon?” Bertie asked.

  “A thermal airship, Blackwood-san. She’s very good, very fast, and I even have a shelter for sleeping.” Hayate’s pride was evident, and Bertie couldn’t help but smile and nod.

  “I assure you, Blackwood-san, we’ll catch up with the train. I can get you to Prince Ichirou’s palace in the same time as it will take the train, even though it’s already left.”

  “When can we leave?” Bertie had no idea how he was going to tell Tom, but if it was the only way to get to the palace, then Bertie would take it. At worse, Tom could always wait for the train and join him later.

  “Give me an hour, then come to the airport. Wait at the reception desk. I’ll have everything ready to go.” Hayate bowed and hurried away.

  Bertie closed the door and leaned against it with a deep sigh. Tom’s not going to be pleased.