The Kaiser Affair (The Drifting Isle Chronicles)

by Lewis, Joseph Robert

  Why can’t he be as tired and miserable as I am?

  Bettina paused to straighten up and tidy her clothes. There was no helping her hair now, so she slipped out the pins and let a chocolate cascade of straight tresses fall down her back. A small black ribbon from her hand bag sufficed to tie her hair back, and she gently enclosed her hat in her bag, and carried on.

  So unprofessional…

  Finally she came to stand in the shadow of the house just a stone’s throw from the gurgling eddies of the river. She glanced over the thieves’ autogyro half-buried in hay and leaves and found it entirely intact, as far as she could tell. A quick inspection of the ground revealed foot prints in the soft earth at the water’s edge, and a series of smooth gouges in the red clay.

  Arjuna and Oster appeared at the edge of the house a moment later with several curious farmers just behind them.

  “Everything all right?” Bettina asked without looking back at them.

  “Everything’s fine,” her husband said cheerily. “We shouldn’t have any troublesome rumors, if that’s still worrying you.”

  “It’s not, but these marks in the ground are.” She pointed. “Kaiser has stolen a boat.”

  Arjuna came to lean over her shoulder and look at the mud. “It certainly looks that way.” He then waded through the hay to the stolen gyro, grabbed hold of a slender steel rod, and yanked what appeared to be yet another of his Inselmond arrows from the machine’s engine.

  “Mister Oster?” Bettina called out as she gave her husband a weary look. He didn’t seem to notice.

  “Yes, ma’am!” The young driver looked quite refreshed and alert. It annoyed her.

  “Mister Rana and I will not be needing your services as we will be continuing downriver. However, I do have a very important task for you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I need you to transport both of these autogyros back to Miss Goldstein as quickly and quietly as possible. Perhaps you can convey them in a wagon, or tow them with the autocarriage. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

  Oster stared at her, and then at the unwieldy machine buried in the hay, and then at the identical machine sinking into the mud farther down the bank. He frowned and winced, and then nodded slowly. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Excellent. Thank you, Oster. Arjuna, please see about finding us a boat. Preferably something with a motor or a sail, and some cushions to sit on.”

  A bemused smile played on her husband’s face. “Anything else?”

  “No, dear, that will do. And hurry. We have a thief to catch.”

  “Oh yes, that, I’d almost forgotten.” Arjuna turned to begin his search for a comfortable yet swift boat. “We wouldn’t want him absconding with that big fat beetle, would we?”

  Bettina gazed downriver at the distant skyscrapers of Eisenstadt.

  Now, what indeed could Kaiser possibly want with a big fat beetle?

  Chapter 18. A Riparian Exchange

  The farmers directed Arjuna to the next house downriver and within a matter of minutes they had politely arranged to charter an elderly gentleman’s little rowboat for the day. The sleepy-eyed goatherd was not enthusiastic about giving up his only boat to a pair of romantic young things named Gustav and Ethel Oliphant, but the fistful of money Arjuna offered him seemed to end the transaction on a happy note.

  A few minutes later Bettina was settled on a very firm and scratchy cushion on a wooden plank that had never seen a drop of polish, let alone paint, and her husband was sitting down facing her as he lifted the oars and settled in for a long bit of rowing. The young man set aside his cumbersome weapons and began hauling on the oars, and to their general relief the old boat carried them swiftly out into the river without a drop of water seeping up from the floor.

  After watching the first few little cottages glide past on the bank above them, she said, “You must be exhausted.”

  “Only a little.” He pulled steadily on the oars, speeding the little boat ahead of the current and maneuvering expertly around the stones and docked boats at the water’s edge.

  “Well, I’m afraid I may begin to slow you down.”

  “We’ll be fine.” There was a jaunty smile in his voice.

  She stared at him for a moment. “You’re enjoying this little fiasco, aren’t you?”

  He glanced up at her and grinned. “Aren’t you?”

  “Not in the usual sense, no.”

  “Betty!” He shook his head. “The ravens, the Shadows, the flying machines! We walked on Inselmond last night and talked to the people who live up there! We met a rainwarden and a starcaster, and I got to explore an ancient necropolis and save the day with a thousand-year-old bow!”

  “Got to? You got to do those things?”

  “Well, yes. It was exciting. It was strange and new. Isn’t that the point of living? To see and hear and taste everything you can?”

  “You know what I like to see and hear and taste,” she said coolly. “And it can all be found within the safe confines of our home.”

  “In our bed, you mean.” He chuckled.

  “I know what I mean, dearest.”

  “All we have is this one fragile life, Betty,” Arjuna said softly. “Some say there are other lives beyond this one, and some say there aren’t. All I know is that I’m alive now, and I want to cherish this life.”

  “Is that why you left home? To cherish Eisenstadt?”

  “To see the world.” He paused and set aside his oars for a moment so he could shrug off his tattered brown jacket, which he folded and placed on his seat as a cushion. And then he took up the oars again.

  “And what happens when you’ve seen the world?” she asked softly, gazing down the shining river.

  Arjuna sighed. “Then I’ll go home, probably. Home is still home, Betty. Home is always home.”

  “Yes, but… I thought this might be home now. I thought I was home.”

  “You are, but you’re more portable than Dumastra, so when the time comes I’m hoping to take you there, because I sincerely doubt I’ll be able to bring Dumastra to you unless I find a very, very large shovel.”

  Bettina rubbed her eyes.

  This is hardly the time to be talking about this, and yet…

  She cleared her throat. “Can you really imagine me in Dumastra?”

  “Of course. Why not?”

  “You said it’s hot there. I’d sweat to death in my own clothing. Can you imagine me wearing one of those thin Dumastran dresses?”

  “I often do.” He smiled back at her. “You’d be the jewel of Astina in one of those thin Dumastran dresses.”

  She tried to imagine walking about in public wearing nothing but a second skin of silk. It made her wince. She loved her dresses and her jackets. They were her armor, as well as her business card and her pedigree. She knew how to draw the right sort of attention from men when she wanted it, and she knew how to command the right sort of attention when she deserved it.

  But those skills were wrapped up in long skirts and spotless gloves, elegant blouses and poised hats. It was all in the clacking of her boots and the punctuation of her cane. It was a presentation she had carefully developed over many years, from the loud streets of the old neighborhood to the competitive lecture halls of the University to the cold corridors of the Ministry.

  “Have I ever told you how it came to be called Dumastra?” he asked. “The name means Duma’s Weapon. Legend says that at the beginning of the world there was a great war between the gods of the sky and the demons of the earth. It went on for ages, but none of the gods could destroy the demons. But the god Duma refused to fight. He took his shovel and set about digging a hole at the foot of a volcano. The other gods called him a fool and a coward, but Duma did not care. It took him many years, but eventually the hole became a giant pit and Duma told the other gods to drive the demons down into the pit. And when that was done, Duma used his shovel to tip up the ancient volcano, thus inventing the lever. He flipped the volcano over and drove
its burning peak down into the pit, sealing the demons away forever and leaving a vast plain of fertile black soil in its place. A beautiful forest grew on that plain, and my ancestors came to live there and cultivate the huge trees into their homes. So the very earth at their feet is Duma’s Weapon. Hence, Dumastra. And the other gods saw the power of Duma’s wisdom, patience, and diligence, and they made him king of the gods.”

  “I’ve never heard that story,” she said. “Is that part of… your religion?”

  He grinned. “No. I don’t think anyone seriously believes in the old stories anymore. They’re fables. Stories can be very powerful things, you know.”

  “I suppose.” In a softer voice, she said, “I wouldn’t be able to walk there, would I?”

  “What?”

  “You told me once that the roads aren’t paved there.” She looked at him without accusation, without iron or ice, without any emotion at all. “My boots, my cane, they would sink into the dirt. I’d be tripping and falling every other step, just like last night on the island. I’d be so clumsy.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.”

  “Why aren’t the roads paved?”

  Arjuna laughed a little. “Because back home, no one wants to risk life and limb in a quarry or a mine digging up rocks and metal just to make the roads harder. When we need to fix a pot hole, we use a shovel. It takes two seconds and the odds of a fatal workplace accident are roughly zero.”

  “And…” She frowned as she tried to find the words. For years she had been very careful about how she discussed Dumastra with her husband. She was fairly certain that the rumors and murmurs about life abroad were riddled with assumptions, guesses, and outright lies. But then again, from time to time, Arjuna would confirm that something she had heard was indeed true. “And everything is built from wood, yes?”

  “From trees, yes. Living trees mostly, cultivated into the shapes of houses and whatnot. The bridges are especially lovely. It takes decades to create them, but again, it’s pretty darn safe. Plus, home values are always appreciating as the trees grow bigger.”

  “So you really do live in trees.” She blinked. “I read that somewhere.”

  “With windows and doors and stairs.” He paused in his rowing again and peered into her eyes. “You’re really worried about all this?”

  “I’m worried that our marriage is… not what I thought it was.” She looked away, and then back into his deep brown eyes. “I mean, what about my pills? Or if I needed a surgeon again?”

  A queer look passed over his eyes. “We have doctors, we have medicines. In fact, I’m pretty sure we’ve had them longer than Eisenstadt has. Where is all this coming from? Do you think… What do you think Dumastra is?”

  “I don’t know, I don’t know what to think. You never want to talk about your home, or your family, or why you came to Eisenstadt. And all this time, I’ve been telling myself that it didn’t matter because we’re in love, and because we’re happy. I’ve always assumed that one day you would tell me, when you were ready. But now, I don’t know anymore.” She paused. “Last night up on the island I was so tired, and I caught myself thinking these wretched things about the islanders, things I would never say, things I had never thought about anyone before. I kept seeing them as miserable, poor, ignorant, barbaric… all the things you see in the papers about other countries. I never realized how much of that propaganda had festered in my mind without my even realizing it. And if I could think those things about those islanders, then… Dumastra… I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying anymore…”

  Bettina felt a sickening soreness in the back of her throat.

  I was too lucky. All of our time together, it was only borrowed time, a stolen dream, or whatever they say in old poems. And this is how it ends. In a boat.

  “Hey, hey.” He took her hands. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. You’re my wife and I should have told you everything by now. So here it is. My father is a wealthy and powerful man. My brothers and I grew up in privilege and luxury. Our home is about half the size of the Ministry building.”

  She blinked. “A tree that’s half the size of the Ministry?”

  He smiled. “Well, more than one tree. More like a castle with leaves. Anyway, several years ago my brothers and I all swore that we would never fight amongst ourselves, especially over money, that we would always respect each other and share everything. And a part of that oath was that we would never steal from one another for any reason.”

  Bettina nodded. “Go on.”

  “Then one morning, an old elephant went mad and started trampling the servants’ homes on our estate, uprooting them completely. I was near my eldest brother’s room when I heard the news.” Arjuna paused with a strained expression around his eyes. “I needed to kill the elephant. I certainly didn’t want to, but these things happen. So I needed my bow, but it was on the far side of the house. There wasn’t time to get it. I called to my brother, but he wasn’t there. So I went into his room and took his bow. It only took a moment to run out onto the lawn and kill the elephant. It only took one arrow. And if I had been any slower, the poor animal would have crushed a home where three small children were hiding.”

  “So you saved them.” Bettina took hold of the warm fingers holding her hands. “But your brothers accused you of stealing the bow and breaking your oath?”

  “No, not at all.” Arjuna smiled gently. “They all insisted that it wasn’t theft, that I hadn’t done anything wrong. But to me, it didn’t matter why I took the bow, or for how long, or anything else. I took it without permission, and even as I took it I knew that I would have to be punished for that act.”

  “What was the punishment?”

  “Exile.” Arjuna smiled a bit more warmly. “One year outside the borders of Dumastra. That’s what I chose.”

  “That’s ridiculous! You saved people’s lives, and you—”

  “Yes, I know. But an oath is an oath, and if a man isn’t willing to accept the consequences of his own actions, then what is he? Honor, integrity, honesty… They matter more than anything, at least to me.” He sighed. “But I knew you would see it differently. Unfair. Unjust. Crazy. Even… barbaric.”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t say that.”

  “I know, I’m sorry.” He kissed her hands. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think it mattered, and because it might turn you against the idea of coming back home with me, or even turn you against the idea of me.” He shrugged, his eyes turned down, his smile quickly fading. “I lived in this city for two years before I met you, and I saw how some people looked at me, and what they thought of me and my country. At first I tried to ignore them. Then I tried to argue with them. But now, sometimes, for some reason, I actually find myself agreeing with them, with the things they say about my home, my people, and I hate myself for that.”

  “Oh, Arry, no!” She cupped his cheeks and kissed him again and again, wishing she could say anything and everything in her heart to tear away those pains inside him and fill him up with all the love and happiness he deserved. But she couldn’t find the words, so she went on kissing him. Her eyes burned with nameless hot tears and she closed her eyes because she couldn’t bear to see the pain in his.

  He kissed her back. Hands slid around waists, lips sank into necks and teeth nipped at ears, and then Bettina slipped and fell against the edge of the boat with her husband on top of her and they both nearly tumbled over into the cold waters of the Dorrein. They stopped fumbling with each others’ clothes with bashful smiles and nervous laughs, and slowly they climbed back into their seats to steady the boat.

  “I suppose this isn’t the time or place for that.” Bettina smoothed out her skirts and smoothed back her hair and made certain her bag and cane were still where she placed them under her seat. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes and sniffled.

  “Maybe not.” He pushed his own hair back from his forehead and blew out a long loud breath. “Maybe we should get back to the case.”

&nb
sp; “In a moment.” She took his hand again. “When you’re ready to go home, I’ll go with you.”

  He looked up into her eyes. “Are you certain?”

  “Beyond certain.” She smiled brilliantly. “But I’ll be bringing my own clothes and enough pills to last a lifetime. I am your wife and I will follow you to the end of the world and back again, but on my terms. Somehow or other.” She straightened her back and clicked the heel of her boot on the boards underfoot. “Is that clear, Arjuna Rana?”

  He beamed at her. “Crystal.”

  “Excellent. Now, we need to get back to work.”

  Arjuna set to the oars again with new vigor, sending their tiny boat surging down the river. As they came closer to the city, other boats began to join them on the morning rush into town. Heavy old barges laden with crops crept down the center of the waterway and slender gondolas raced along the banks, most propelled by grim-faced men with long oars and poles pacing along their decks.

  Minute by minute the Dorrein grew wider and soon there were pleasure yachts sailing upstream past them and rusty water taxis chuffing up the channel, taking bleary-eyed businessmen and bureaucrats to the outlying farms and county markets to haggle, draft contracts, set prices, and occasionally sue some poor fellow in a threadbare shirt for daring to fight for fairer rates.

  Along the banks the tall reeds gradually filled with bits of paper and shards of wood, and a thin sheen of oil floated on the small waves, glistening in rainbow-stained pools. The farmers’ cottages gave way to old brick houses, many with boarded-up doors and shattered windows. Children sat by the water’s edge, poking at things unseen among the tall grasses.

  “What are you looking for? Anything in particular?” Arjuna asked. “They could be anywhere by now. They could have reached the lake by now. Or they probably went ashore somewhere. No way to know, is there?”

  “If they left the river, then we might see their boat clumsily hidden in the reeds or under a dock,” Bettina thought aloud. “If they stayed on the water, then they can only go as fast as Strauss can still row.”