BreadCrumb Trail (The Yellow Hoods, #2): Steampunk meets Fairy Tale

by Adam Dreece

  She noticed Franklin at a bench in the backyard. He was drawing, and had an intense look on his face. She’d seen that look many times—the inventor’s look. His eyes were wide, and his face contorted in a combination of pain and joy. It was the first time she’d seen any hint of him being an inventor’s son.

  After brushing her hair, she got dressed in a simple set of drawstring pants and a blouse, and then went to the kitchen to have homemade tomato jam on a slice of bread.

  “Hmm… now where did they go?” said Tee, spotting the note from her dad. After reading it, she started on her breakfast. Tee expected her parents would be back for dinner, but wondered what kind of trouble they were checking out in Mineau. She turned to see Franklin still working diligently. Ready to satisfy her curiosity, Tee walked outside.

  Franklin was nearly over top his drawing, as if he were trying to hide it from the sun, or dive into it.

  “What is that?” asked Tee, without presuming anything—though she could make out what it likely was.

  Franklin looked at Tee. “Thought you were going to scare the bee’s knees off me?” he asked.

  Tee didn’t know how one would get bee’s knees in the first place, but figured she knew what he meant. “Yes, I suppose.”

  Franklin was accustomed to dismissing people for being less smart, less educated, or less capable than he thought himself. He didn’t like having his time wasted, and wasn’t comfortable with sharing his works-in-progress—except with his father.

  Tee was different, though. It was evident she was the granddaughter of one of the greatest minds of their time. Still, Franklin wasn’t yet sure if he wanted to share his work—whether out of a misplaced sense of superiority, or else out of fear she’d find it trivial.

  “Want some jam toast?” Tee offered, seeing a dilemma play out on the young man’s face.

  Franklin was confused. “But—it’s not toast. Toasted implies heat was applied. That’s simply sliced bread.”

  Tee looked at the half-eaten piece. “Yes, well—while that is true on one level, you could argue it has been heated to the exact temperature of the room, which means heat was applied. Heat does two things; one is add temporary warmth to the bread, and the other is render it less pliable, or more stiff—whichever way you want to think about it. Given that, isn’t it toast once sliced?” replied Tee, grinning. She rarely spoke like that, but had heard her grandfather talk that way, all the time. Taking the last bite and licking her fingers, she gave Franklin her wide, brown eyes treatment, to see if he’d respond.

  After awkward silence, Tee swallowed and said, “I’m getting another. Do you want one, yes or no?”

  Franklin was still sitting back, thinking about what Tee had said. She’d earned at least enough respect for that, and, to his astonishment, he really couldn’t find a way to refute her point. All he could think of would seem like nitpicking, and he felt that would ultimately only make him look like an idiot.

  Franklin looked up at Tee, with her long, dark hair, and her huge, brown eyes and suddenly found himself feeling awkward, unable to talk. Part of his brain had just realized Tee was, in fact, a teenage girl. “Um—” he started, “ah—”

  Tee smiled at the poor boy. “I’ll take that as a yes. Back in a minute.”

  She was reminded of other boys in town who suffered similar problems around her and Elly. She’d suffered it once herself, when she’d met a friend’s visiting cousin. Thankfully, Elly had been there to give her a quick elbow to the ribs and snap her out of it.

  Tee returned and handed Franklin a piece of jam-covered bread on a plate. Franklin smiled, having by then rediscovered his ability to speak intelligently to a pretty girl.

  Pointing at his drawing, he said, “Your grandfather had sent me a design for an armband. It was wonderfully useful. I’ve been trying to redesign it from memory, but there are a couple of things I haven’t yet got right. The armband got me out of a pinch, so I’d like to make another.”

  “A pinch?” asked Tee, sitting beside him.

  “Oh—a bind, or a bad situation. Don’t you lot speak Inglesh?” asked Franklin, slightly annoyed at being called out regularly on what he considered common words or expressions.

  Tee scanned his drawing, then answered, almost half-interested in the conversation. “We lot? No. We call it Frelish. Inglesh just sounds… stuffy. You’re an islander, anyway. It’s Inglesh today, Torvash tomorrow.”

  Franklin felt his national pride wounded. “Well, the island kingdom is called Inglea—most of the time. Well, some of the time. Okay, I think I see your point,” he conceded.

  “Well, right now you are in the kingdom of Freland,” said Tee, taking her last bite. “We’re the Frelish, regardless of who is in charge. We don’t have royals who decide to freshen up the place with a zazzy new name.”

  There was a beautiful simplicity to it, thought Franklin. “Huh. Frelish it is, I guess.”

  “So,“ said Tee, leaning over the design, “you’re trying to improve this?” She walked through some of the finer points with her finger.

  “Yes,” said Franklin, nervously.

  “This, right here, is similar to the mechanism in my sail-cart. Come—let me show you. I think you’ll appreciate some of the changes we made, and it may give you some ideas. Come on,” said Tee, getting up.

  Franklin looked at Tee and smiled. Maybe this smart, Frelish, peasant-looking girl wasn’t so bad? Maybe.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Intercepted

  Nikolas looked at his watch. If he didn’t leave now, he’d be late meeting Anna and the others at the crumbled tower. On the other hand, he wasn’t comfortable leaving Mounira. He’d checked on her twice, and then left a note beside her bed. She’d never slept in this long, and while he was certain she could take care of herself, his paternal instincts didn’t like the idea of waking her or leaving her alone.

  Nikolas yawned. I really should have gotten more sleep, but it was worth it, he thought. The output of the engine is five times better. What will Tee say when I show her? Months ago, he’d shared his horseless cart prototype with Tee and her parents. Since that time, he’d worked in secret. Now he was ready to show Tee the next generation, in a form closer to her heart.

  There was a knock at the door.

  Nikolas looked at the door, frowning. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and everyone he could think of was occupied with one endeavor or another. Cautiously, he opened the door.

  “Hello, Nikolas,” said Marcus Pieman. “Mind if I come in?”

  Marcus’ clean-shaven face was decorated with a leather eyepatch over the left eye. He wore a high-collar black coat with gold buttons, a flat white shirt, and brown pants. The style was different from anything Nikolas had seen before. Marcus’ clothes somehow spoke of the future, while remaining connected with the present.

  “Are these Richelle’s designs?” asked Nikolas, gesturing to the clothes.

  Marcus laughed. “Yes, what do you think?”

  Nikolas nodded as he noted the stitching and angles. “Suits you. Different—yet speaks of the type of change you desire to bring about,” answered Nikolas. “Now why are you holding what I can only guess is an ocular device?” he asked, gesturing to the curious-looking device with a leather strap that Marcus was holding.

  “Well,” said Marcus, chuckling humbly, “I didn’t feel right wearing it when you opened the door. Funny, isn’t it? I’ve worn it everywhere else on this trip. I’d love to show you what I’ve done with it. Apparently, it makes me the spitting image of Abeland.”

  Nikolas nodded, smiling at the mention of Abeland, whom he’d known since Abe was born. “Yes, it’s funny who we are to others, and who we are to those who know us best. The device looks interesting,” said Nikolas. “Well… I suppose I’m not intended to meet up with Anna and the others then, yes?”

  Marcus looked sorrowful. “No—I’m afraid not, and I apologize for having to do this. I will need you to pack some bags, as you’ll be coming with me. But,
before we have to deal with that, may I come in for a bit?”

  It became clear to Nikolas why so many things had felt wrong with Anna’s plan. He’d miscalculated, judged poorly where to place his trust. Anna had been right—someone from the Fare was coming—but had she known who, or why? It was obvious there was no meeting of a contact, at least not another agent of the Fare. This had all been a ruse—or possibly something worse was afoot. Nikolas hoped the Yellow Hoods would be safe.

  Rubbing his bald head, Nikolas finally said, “Yes, sorry, Marcus—come in. I’ve had a lot on my mind. I wasn’t prepared to be social. You know how I am—when I am surprised.”

  “Yes, again, I apologize for that,” said Marcus. “But, it is good to see you. It’s been a long time.”

  Nikolas gave Marcus an affectionate light slap on the arm. “That, it has been. May I offer you some tea?”

  Marcus stepped into the house. With genuine appreciation, he replied, “Yes, please. The stuff on the road has been dreadful—it’s been only dust and fannings. We were in such a rush that I neglected to have my own teas packed. Perhaps I’m losing my mind in my old age.”

  “I very much doubt that,” said Nikolas. He stiffened as he heard the distinct creak of a floorboard from outside Mounira’s room. Marcus seemed to notice, too. “I can’t remember, Marcus—have you been to this old, creaky house before?”

  Marcus scanned about. He couldn’t see concern on Nikolas’ bearded face, nor obvious signs of anyone else—other than some shoes and clothes on a hook that he assumed belonged to Nikolas’ granddaughter.

  “No,” said Marcus, “I don’t believe I’ve been here. I did hear about it, though. By the way, you still look the same as when we had that painting done nearly forty years ago—just more gray.”

  “Please, Marcus, don’t bring your political flattery here. We’ve always been honest with each other,” said Nikolas. “Anna did the same thing. It took everything I had to be civil.”

  Marcus nodded, smiling with a touch of embarrassment. “It is a nice house. Honestly. I can see Isabella’s hand in some elements. Oh, is that a trompe-l’oeil?” said Marcus, pointing at the specially painted stairs to the lower level, and referring to the technique that made it nearly invisible. “Nicely done. You’ve always been a man of subtlety. I miss that. Simon is so…”

  “Challenging?” offered Nikolas as he walked up to the kitchen.

  “Yes!” laughed Marcus. “Indeed. Simon is more than I can deal with, some days. Thank goodness for Richelle.”

  “How is your granddaughter?” asked Nikolas. The last time he’d seen Richelle, she’d been younger than Tee.

  Marcus sat at the kitchen table. “She’s well—excellent, in fact. I’ve heard a good deal about yours, too. A mix of you and Sam, though I suspect some Isabella and Rosie, too.… By the way, Nikolas, you’ve got my assurance that no harm will come to your granddaughter today.”

  Nikolas placed the kettle on the wood stove and turned to lean on the counter. “I appreciate that. I am surprised, however, that you came all this way.” Nikolas’ mind raced, thinking of the ways that things could play out. He was certain Marcus was doing the same.

  “Well, taking you out of the game, as you used to say, was in the plan—though not for a while yet. There was an opportunity that required us to move up our timetable,” said Marcus openly. “Rather unexpected.”

  Nikolas got out the tea cups and saucers. “Anna, I presume.”

  Marcus hesitated, knowing that Abeland and Richelle would not approve his sharing of any information. If roles were reversed, he’d probably think the same—but this was Nikolas Klaus, the closest thing he had to a brother.

  Nearby, Mounira nervously peeked out her bedroom window. She could see two guards in unfamiliar dark gray and purple uniforms walking about. They were armed with rifles and swords. When she heard the heavy laughter from the kitchen, she silently made her bed, removed all traces of herself from the room, and then hid under the bed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Crumbling Plans

  The sky clouded over and became more and more menacing as the group journeyed down from Minette to Mineau, and then into the Red Forest. When they arrived at Bergman’s Failure, the storm was only minutes away.

  The Yellow Hoods jumped out of their sail-carts while Franklin, Anna, and the ten guardsmen dismounted their horses. They were at the northwestern edge of a huge clearing in the Red Forest.

  Tee looked at the guardsmen with concern. She didn’t like that two from the previous night had been replaced, and there were two new ones who looked clueless. The rest looked so nervous that she was afraid they would scream and run away if a leaf floated by unexpectedly.

  The mossy, white stone tower stood a hundred feet tall, with a caved-in top. The rampart wall extended from it to the south, some thirty feet. The stairs from the tower’s blocked door descended to the west and stopped at a small landing. From there, the stairs continued several steps to the south and joined the cobblestone path that led under the rampart. It looked like someone had started building the northeastern corner of a castle, and then had given up. Few knew the real story of Bergman, yet Tee did, and she feared they were about to share his fate and be betrayed.

  Anna huddled with the guards, giving orders and talking through what she expected to happen.

  “This place is more remote than I’d figured,” said Franklin to the Yellow Hoods. He was worried. Unlike the Yellow Hoods, he’d never been in a fight, let alone a real battle. The idea of physical violence made him panicky.

  Elly, her arms crossed, kept a watchful eye on Anna. “So much about this feels wrong. Don’t you think we should’ve just abandoned the plan, Richy?”

  “Huh?” he replied. Richy’s mind was still a mess from his own news of the day before. “I don’t know. Lala, what do you think?”

  “Lala?” said Franklin, looking around. “Who’s Lala?”

  Tee chuckled. “It’s my nickname. Before you start asking why, let’s just focus. Okay?”

  Franklin stopped himself from following up the point and waved for Tee to continue.

  “We’ve trusted Anna this far. I think we have to see what happens, at least until my Grandpapa gets here. If things start to go wrong, we look after each other, and get out—together. No Bergman’s fate for us, okay?”

  Franklin looked at Richy and Elly—both had agreed—while he wondered just who this Bergman fellow had been.

  Anna marched their way, and they fell silent. “So, are my little troops ready?” she asked condescendingly. She was dressed in yet another expensive-looking outfit. It was an ankle-length, slightly puffy formal dress of black and gold, with a gold sash around the waist. It seemed highly impractical for the sort of mission they were supposedly on.

  Richy, who’d been staring at the guards, turned to Anna. “Why are the guardsmen armed with only swords and flintlock pistols? We’re out in the open. Shouldn’t at least two or three have rifles?”

  Anna glanced quickly at the guardsmen. “You don’t understand tactics, child. Now all of you—get to your positions.” She stomped off while muttering something to herself.

  Two guardsmen remained with the sail-carts and tied the horses to some trees. Tee, Elly, and Richy headed for the tower’s small landing. Franklin went with four guardsmen to the freestanding rock pile about fifty yards south of the tower. Anna and the remaining four guardsmen stood at the ready, just to the east of the rampart.

  Anna stood proudly, chin up. She pulled out an ornate pocket watch from her dress’ sash, and smiled. Everything was close enough to perfect. “They should be here any minute,” Anna yelled to everyone.

  “Anna, where’s my grandfather?” Tee yelled back. “Isn’t he supposed to be here?”

  Keeping her back to Tee, and taking a couple of seconds to respond, Anna replied, “He said he’d be late. Don’t worry about him.”

  “She’s lying, Tee,” said Elly, looking around. “We’re exposed up here. An
yone to the south or west can see us. Maybe she wants us up here so that we can be seen?”

  “I’m thinking the same thing,” said Tee, ushering her friends to crouch down.

  Richy scanned around. “You know—someone with a rifle could probably hit us from the forest, there,” he said, pointing to the south. “Someone with skills like Egelina-Marie could definitely hit us from there.”

  “Let’s get ready, guys,” said Tee, pulling up her yellow hood. “Charge your shock-sticks.”

  “What about Franklin?” asked Elly, winding up the small handle on her shock-stick.

  “Quiet!” yelled Anna. “A coach is approaching.”

  Four brown horses came into view, pulling a dark gray coach with gold trim. Two soldiers in dark gray and purple uniforms rode the lead horses, while four more soldiers were positioned at the corners of the coach.

  Anna grinned as the coach came to a stop just a few yards in front of her. She’d taken a risk, as many great leaders had, and offered an olive branch to the enemy. She had argued against her fellow leaders of the Tub for the past two years about anything and everything related to the Fare. Now she was going to be able to show all of them just what she could accomplish when not leashed by their idiotic fears.

  She figured it best to offer an opportunity to the Fare to return to the peace agreement that had been worked out, long ago. It would probably take money or some other incentive to get them to agree, but she figured it would be well worth the cost. Doing this would allow the Tub to regain its strength and resume managing the peace of all the kingdoms.

  When she’d bumped into the Hound—by chance—at The Pointy Stick inn, she had found what she needed: a way in. She’d offered the Hound a deal. He’d asked for a couple of things, one of which she had thought odd, but didn’t care enough to argue about. She’d agreed to make sure that the Yellow Hoods would be present at any meeting. Anna’s own condition of the deal was that she would meet the Fare’s leader, in person.