Blood Red (9781101637890)

by Lackey, Mercedes

  Some of her fellow Foresters had seen people—well, men—of this class up close in the past, but Rosa never had. Wealthy men often came to the Schwarzwald to hunt, and the Bruderschaft sometimes acted as guides to keep them out of mischief. These men and women fascinated her. It made her head swim to think that the women would change their clothing four and five times in a day to match whatever social activity they were doing. More than that, if they happened to participate in what passed in their class for “sport.” And they would keep a perfectly good gown for no more than a handful of years before discarding it as “out of fashion” rather than remaking it as Mutti did.

  She eavesdropped on them shamelessly. Most of them were either returning from, or going on, “tours.” She knew what these “tours” were—whirlwind sightseeing trips to major capitols, occasionally taking in some countryside by way of relief. They would whisk in and out of the agreed-upon series of “things worth seeing” without really seeing any of them.

  She wondered why they did it at all. It wasn’t for education. It wasn’t to examine the beauties of these places, for as near as she could tell, every place was judged inferior in some way to what they had “at home.”

  Maybe it’s just for something to do.

  Certainly the women, at least, seemed to have very little to occupy them in the intervals between changing clothing. They didn’t tend their own children. They didn’t make their own clothing or cook their own food. They didn’t clean their own homes, and didn’t even direct the people who did. That was the job of the housekeeper.

  She could not even begin to imagine living like that. Although it was wonderful being pampered and cared for on this journey, especially when you compared it with the slog that had been the outward half, she knew that too much more of being tended to hand and foot would drive her mad. Living in gowns like the one she was wearing would drive her mad. And above all, not having anything practical to do with her time would drive her mad.

  As she came to that conclusion, a gong sounded softly. This was the signal that they were all to rise in a leisurely fashion, and make their way into the next car—the dining car—which existed for the sole purpose of being eaten in, by these people and no others.

  Luncheon, like the other meals she’d had on these trains, was amazing. And it was even more amazing to bear witness to the sheer amount of food that the men, at least, were tucking away. Eight courses! For luncheon! Small wonder those elegant vests strained a little to cover the bellies beneath them.

  Out of deference to her apparent mourning, she was given a table by herself, allowing her to eat as slowly as she liked while she observed those around her.

  Then it was back to the parlor car, where watching her fellow passengers had grown boring enough—and their conversation unvarying enough—that she retreated to her book. She caught some of the women casting curious glances her way, and she suspected that they were surreptitiously trying to read the title. Not that the title would bring any of them any enlightenment. She’d taken it with permission from the Romanian Brotherhood’s library, as they had a second copy, and the Bruderschaft didn’t possess this work; written in Latin, it was a treatise on a subject rather important to her—werewolves and other shape-shifters.

  Tea and coffee and more pastries were served in mid-afternoon; she declined the pastries but accepted the coffee. About the time when she would have been sitting down to supper at the Bruderschaft Lodge, the steward passed through the car, politely informing the passengers in a deferential murmur that they were about to enter Vienna.

  Rosa had felt the nearness of the city for some time. It wasn’t as bad as some German cities she had been forced to pass through; Vienna was well known for its green and growing spaces. But it was uncomfortable, and she was very glad that she would not be staying overnight there. She would be taking another night train all the way across Germany, and arriving in Munich in the morning. From there, she would take a train to Stuttgart, then a local train to Freudenstadt, and someone from the Bruderschaft would meet her at the station with her horse. She would be home, and everything would go back to normal again. Meals at the proper time, not the time these people took it. Meals that would be simple, not ones that left you groaning.

  Of course, nothing was straightforward in these journeys. Vienna had more than one railway station. She would arrive at the South Railway Station, and would have to leave from the West Railway Station. When she had made the outward trip with Hans, it had involved the scramble of two modestly dressed people—in Hans’s case, a man dressed in rustic clothing—trying to compete for taxis against people who were . . . well, not “rustics.” It was a good thing they’d made sure to have plenty of time to make the exchange; in the end they had gotten a tired looking old man with an equally tired, old horse and a shabby thing that could barely be called a “taxi,” and they had clomped along at a snail’s pace.

  But ah, today . . .

  She alighted from the train carriage, and was directed to a railway employee whose sole job, it seemed, was to get taxis for the first class passengers. She joined the small group of her fellow “elite,” who followed him, and were in turn followed by no less than five porters pushing giant trolleys of baggage.

  It seemed that there was even a separate class of taxi for the well-to-do. She told their guide where she wanted to go, and he grouped her with others who were also going to the West station.

  In almost no time, Rosa and three other travelers from first class were seated in a spacious vehicle. Their luggage was piled up on the top with great efficiency, and they were off. They arrived at the Western station in half the time it had taken her and Hans to get there. When all the little details of paying were taken care of, a porter appeared for her luggage and it was whisked away, leaving her to have a leisurely cup of coffee and a slice of Sachertorte before getting to the Munich train.

  It would have been wonderful, and she would have enjoyed playing the grande dame to the hilt, if she hadn’t been forced to expend so much energy on keeping her shields up that she was starving by the time that Sachertorte arrived. And rich as the decadent chocolate cake was, she could tell it was barely going to hold her until dinner in the dining car. But it did give her the energy to send a telegram, and it was with glee that she did so, because Gheorghe’s bounty made it possible to send such things. Vati would be very surprised to get such a missive, but he would take the news of her arrival to the Bruderschaft, and she would not have to linger in Freudenstadt, waiting for them.

  By the time she was seated in the dining car, she was very, very glad of the rich menu on offer—this was Vienna, after all, the culinary capital of Central Europe, and the railroad felt impelled to offer its first class passengers the equal of any meal they could get at any of the city’s most luxurious hotels.

  Using magic took energy and strength. This was one reason why she preferred to use physical weapons against monsters, rather than magical ones. Or rather, she kept the magical ones in reserve . . . And if she were in farmland or forest, she could draw on the energy of the Earth to augment her own. But not in a city.

  Now, she did know of some Earth Mages who could work—if handicapped—in a city like Vienna at least, where there were islands of green to keep the Earth from being completely poisoned or shut away, but she was not one of them, and neither was Hans. So they had been forced to keep solid shields up the entire time they were in Vienna, and the hours they had spent there had been an ordeal. I think we ate our weight in food. Part of the reason they had looked so rustic was that they had come prepared for Vienna, and were carrying bags of food, one each. Sausages, fruit, cheese—bread rolls had been easy to come by, since nearly every station had carts from local bakers outside it. By the time the train had left for Budapest, half their hoarded food had been gone.

  She left the dining car while the train sped through the countryside, feeling better again. In her compartment, which was ide
ntical to the last sleeping compartment she’d occupied, the bed had been turned down, her nightgown—freshened with lavender-water and ironed again—had been laid out for her. There was a pot of herb tea, a plate of kuchen, and a vase with a bouquet of flowers on the little table, and a clever little oil lamp, mounted to the wall on a gimbal that kept it level, burned above the head of the bed. Not feeling equal, after that sumptuous meal, to tackling that Latin book on shape-shifters, she resorted to the frivolous and sensational stories in the magazines that had been left invitingly on the bedside table. Then, she slept.

  When she woke, she was ready for the most complicated leg of the journey. Munich to Stuttgart, then the small local train from Stuttgart to Freudenstadt. Even traveling first class, with porters and railway employees at her beck and call, was not going to be easy alone, but she was rested and ready for it. Much readier than she and Hans had been, although at least from Freudenstadt to Stuttgart, they’d had the help of two fellow Elemental Masters—a Water Master in Freudenstadt, and a Fire Master in Stuttgart. She probably could have sent telegrams to them, asking for their aid again . . . but money made that unnecessary, and she was reluctant to disturb them when she had much more mundane help at hand.

  But then, the train began to slow. By the time she reached the dining car for breakfast, it had completely stopped.

  “There is trouble on the line,” the steward told her, as he handed her a menu. “Some sort of accident, I believe. We will be about three hours late, the engineer tells us.” Then he smiled at her. “Do not concern yourself, good lady. This train is completely safe.”

  She made herself smile at him. It isn’t the train I am worried about, she thought unhappily. It’s me.

  3

  THE train had been stopped for an hour, and the steward kept coming around urging wine and beer, and even stronger drinks, on the passengers in the parlor car. To Rosa’s mind, this did not bode well for whatever was causing the train to remain stationary. After about an hour, some of the gentlemen got up and went to the door of the car. By this point, Rosa herself was more than curious enough to do the same.

  The steward was not brave enough to try and interfere with the men, but he did interpose himself between her and the door, as the first of the gentlemen demanded—and got—the door open and the steps lowered. “Dear lady,” the steward said, trying to forestall her. “Please sit down, there is nothing to be concerned about.”

  “I am sure there is nothing to be concerned about,” she replied, making it very clear with her posture that she fully intended to get down out of the car and find out what was going on herself. “But I am not accustomed to sitting about for hours at a time. I require some air. I shall have a little walk.”

  The steward looked very much as if he wanted to stop her, but what could he do? He was only the steward, and she had enough money to be riding in the most expensive way possible. If he objected, while the other gentlemen might support him, it was far more likely that they would support her on the basis of class. He let her pass, and she alighted from the car onto the ground beside the track. They were in the midst of a forested part of the land—possibly some great estate’s private forest, in fact—and there was no sign of a road or so much as an animal track on this side of the train. But she immediately felt at ease; this was where she belonged, with proper earth beneath her feet, and nothing artificial but the train and its track for miles. There was little or no wind, and beneath the smell of hot metal and coal smoke was the scent of good, green, growing things. She heard the calls of dozens of birds—finches, sparrows, a raven, rooks, starlings, tits, warblers, pipits—there were probably more birds than that out there, but the chatter of the people going to see what was wrong drowned out their songs as she approached the gathering crowd.

  She was by no means the only person on the train who was curious enough about what was going on to have alighted—in fact, the passengers from the more crowded cars seemed to have taken this as an excuse to escape the crowding. There were four men from the parlor car, and many other men and a few women from second and third class making their way alongside the stopped train on this side. As she passed the great steam engine, waves of heat radiated from it, and she looked up at the cab of the enormous construction to see the crew sitting at what must be rare leisure, only occasionally throwing on a shovel-full of coal to keep the fires stoked.

  Then she was out in front of the train with the rest, and saw what had happened.

  There was a tree down across the track—quite an enormous tree at that. It looked to be hundreds of years old, and its girth was tremendous. There were half a dozen men sawing and hacking at it, and teams of patient horses waiting to take the pieces away. It was very clear that the thing could not simply be cut in half and dragged off. It would have to be cut apart in several pieces, or the horses could never haul it away. It was obvious from the limited progress they had made that this was going to take a great deal longer than the three hours the steward had promised.

  It was also clear—to her, at least—what had felled the forest giant. Smoke still rose from the splintered stump. It could only have been struck by lightning, but it must have been a massive blast. Now—that was very suspicious to her mind. She had spent most of her life in the Schwarzwald, and she had never seen a lightning strike that powerful that was directed to the base of a tree rather than the top. She wanted to get closer, but could not think of a way to do so without drawing the ire of the working crew.

  As she stood there at the back of the crowd, staring in astonishment and growing suspicion, a low voice spoke in her ear. “If I might trouble you for a moment of your time, Earth Master?”

  The voice was male, and spoke German, and the fact that the speaker had identified her as an Earth Master came as a shock. She turned quickly. Immediately behind her was a tall, lean, pale-blond man with a pronounced jaw, little round wire-rimmed spectacles, and an extremely worried expression. She identified him immediately—not that she knew him, but she knew what he was. The green swirls of Water Magic surrounded him in a simple shield. Too simple a shield for him to be very powerful.

  Water Mage. Not a Master. Not that there was anything wrong with that! Plenty among the Bruderschaft were mages rather than Masters, and the specific and skillful application of a little power could get as much done as brute force.

  Things were going a little faster than she liked. She hadn’t even had time to analyze the downed tree, and here was an unknown Water Mage addressing her. On the other hand, maybe he had exactly the information she was looking for.

  She nodded at him, and inclined her head back along the train. Once they got past the engine again, they were alone—everyone that was curious enough to go to the front of the train had gathered in a crowd there, drawn together by the universal urge of people who do not have to do a particular piece of manual labor wishing to watch someone else do it.

  “What can I do for you, sir?” she asked politely. She was not particularly concerned for her safety; invoking lightning was not a Water ability. And given that he was, by her standards, a distinctly weedy young man, she had no doubt she could best him in a direct confrontation. His own sheer astonishment that she could and would deliver a good punch to the chin would allow her to get back to the safety of the parlor car before he recovered.

  “It is what I can do for you, Earth Master,” he said, looking as if he was trying very hard to be brave. “That tree coming down was no accident. It was meant to stop me.”

  She blinked at him. “And whoever it was needed to stop you so badly he stopped an entire train?”

  The young man swallowed hard. “I was sent to Vienna to discover, if I could, the identity of an Air Master that had gone to the bad. I did so—but in the process, I myself was discovered. I fled on this train before I could send a telegram to the Master of the Munich Lodge, Graf von Stahldorf. I thought I had escaped, but it is clear the man intends to stop me bef
ore I can reveal his identity, and yes, he was fully prepared to stop an entire train, and perhaps even slay innocents in the process. I must tell—”

  Evidently his intention was to tell her the man’s name. She had a much better idea. “Say no more,” she said firmly, and let her sense of the Earth find the nearest game trail. “Such a fiend is too dangerous to be left at large. We must deal with this now.”

  “But dear lady—” he began, startled. This, clearly was not what he expected to hear from her.

  “Pray do not interrupt me,” she snapped. “I am a Hunt Master of the Schwarzwald. I know what I am doing. I need but a moment. Follow me.”

  With that, she strode purposefully to the door of the parlor car. “Wait here,” she ordered him, and mounted up into the car. Once there, she secured her portmanteau from the overhead rack—or rather, the steward hastened to get it down for her—and she retired with it to the bathroom.

  Knowing that her petticoat and dress would be freshened by the maids on the sleeper trains, she had secured most of the useful objects she usually wore inside the hidden compartment at the bottom of the bag. She extracted them now, distributed them about her person where she could reach them despite her gown, and then returned the portmanteau to the rack. Or rather, allowed the steward to do so.

  “We are likely to be here for much longer than two more hours,” she told him, quietly. “If I sit here listening to the gentlemen bluster and the ladies fuss like a coop full of hens, I shall be strongly tempted to scream. I shall take another brief walk.”

  When the steward looked aghast, she added, “I am accustomed to riding hunters in the Schwarzwald for at least three hours daily. An hour walking will do me no harm.”

  At that, he looked both mollified and impressed. She knew that he assumed, of course, that if she was riding hunters, she must be very wealthy, and was riding them all over some vast estate. Once again, she spoke pure truth, as a magician must adhere to; she did ride hunters all over the forest, often for far longer than three hours at a time. It was not her fault he made some other inference from her words.