by Raven Bond
“Very well,” Tesla nodded. “Some months ago, I was visited by an old acquaintance. It had been sometime since we had seen each other.” Tesla frowned in reflection, “He seemed different in some fashion, but I placed that on the passage of time and his duties. If anything, however, he seemed more physically hale and vigorous than when last we met.”
“Forgive me, I have told no one this before.” Tesla paused as if collecting himself. “This acquaintance told me that a marvelous New World Order was coming. He said that the 'initiates' of this order, of which he was now one, had given him immortality. The Old Masters, as he called them, were 'immense intellects greater than man', whose knowledge would lead us into a new Golden Age. There were also some unsavory allusions to 'sub-races and the natural order.' They were going to remake the world, he said. He asked me to join with them.”
“When I professed no interest in such a thing,” Tesla bowed his head sadly, “he tried to kill me. In the ensuing fight, I had an experimental, Telluric device on my person, and he was killed. To my horror, from his wounds came the same substance that you witnessed coming from my captor in Hong Kong, and from the woman, Petrov.”
“I have examined this substance as best I can.” Tesla raised his eyes, which held a haunted look. “That it is not of any natural origin is the only conclusion I can make. Since then, I have been very careful to tell no one. My theory is that someone, a hidden Savant perhaps, has learned the means to alter a person's natural chemistry. If this is so, the implications are enormous. The Old Masters' promise of immortality may not entirely be a sham. Given this, there is no telling who they may have suborned to their cause.
“I received Robert's plea to come here,” Tesla said, “and could not pursue the matter as I would have liked. Given what has happened I must assume that this 'New Order' actually exists. If such an organization is also hunting for the Invader artifact, I cannot imagine a greater threat to us all, save another Invasion by aliens.”
Silence spread through cabin in the wake of the great man's story. Will caught Saira's hand sign that the wizard was telling the truth as he knew it. Will leaned forward and picked up his glass.
“That's quite a story,” Will said sipping again and returning the glass to its place on the desk. He looked at Abigail, “What do you think Abigail? After all, finding your father and this thingamajig is your quest. Do you want this man along?”
Abigail looked at Captain Hunting Owl in astonishment at the question. Did she want to work with the greatest living mind in the world? Did she want to fulfill her lifelong dream? Then she paused and thought about it. Did she? Doubtless much of the credit for the discovery would go to Tesla. Also there were the other members of the cabal of Prometheus to consider. This would mean that the artifact would no longer belong only to them. With embarrassment she remembered that her father had asked for Tesla's help.
“I would be honored to have Tesla accompany us,” Abigail said finally, glancing aside at Tesla.
“Alright,” William Hunting Owl said agreeably. He looked at Tesla, “Seems like you're along for the trip. I do still want that protection against the plague though. Your passenger fee we can work out later.”
“Of course, Captain,” Tesla agreed. Turning to Abigail, he said, “Lady Hadley, I look forward to working with you. I have followed your career somewhat, and feel there is no one I would rather be working under on such a project.”
Abigail opened her mouth to make a polite disclaimer, and then closed it again. What Tesla had said was simply the truth. Baring the presence of her father as main discoverer, by every convention of the Scholar community she was the leader of the scientific aspects of the expedition. An expedition that would change the world. With Nikola Tesla watching her. She reached for a bracing sip of tea to hide her discomfort at the realization.
“That brings us to you,” Hunting Owl said, frowning at Madame Chang.
“Do you wish me to bare my arm to your knife, Captain Hunting Owl?” Chang gave a small upturn of her lips.
“Not right now,” Will shook his head. “I figure that if you start flying around or bending steel bars with your hands, I might change my mind. No, you said that you could interpret the picture that Abigail's father left for her.”
“I can if it is what I believe it to be,” Chang said. “I would need to see it, of course.”
“Of course, and that's one of my problems with you,” Will said evenly. “I've never met a crime ganger what didn't have their eye on some payoff. What's yours?” He held up a hand. “And don't tell me that it's because you have some great admiration for a white-eyed Scholar, no matter what he may have confided to you.”
“I see that my reputation has preceded me,” Chang said ruefully. “Very well, Captain Hunting-Owl. Although I hold great. . .affection for Robert, the evil beings you have fought and the Great One has described,” Here she nodded her head at Tesla, “are my enemies as well as yours, and must be stopped.” When she didn't continue, Will spoke into her silence.
“So you know about them too,” Will said, narrowing his eyes at her. Seeing her expression remain unchanged, Hunting Owl continued. “And you're not going to share what you know?”
“I may not, Captain,” Chang said. Will almost could almost believe the motherly regret in her face at that answer. Almost.
“So 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' is the way of it,” Will said to her.
“Exactly,” Chang inclined her head. “And Captain, what other choice do you have?”
“She is unfortunately correct, Will” Abigail said, with a note of pleading in her voice.
Will reached down and opened a drawer in his desk. He pulled out the map case that Abigail had entrusted to him earlier. Wordlessly, he moved aside the tray with the teapot and plates, and spread the picture out. Chang leaned closer to look at it.
“Yes,” Chang hissed. “This is a type of drawing we call a 'mandala'. While they generally depict spiritual stories, they can also tell the story of travelers. It is often done to commemorate a great journey.”
“We have them in India as well,” Saira interjected. “But I am not familiar with the symbols on this one.” Chang waved away her comment, studying the picture with concentration.
“You would not be,” Chang said. “See,” she pointed to a depiction of what could be a tower inside a circle surrounded by spirit beings. “This is Hong Kong.” Her finger moved across the scroll. “This is what is called the Yellow River.”
Will reached to the shelf at his side and pulled out a map of China. He unrolled it next to the mandala.
“Keep talking, Chang,” Will said. Rogers leaned over Wills shoulder with a pencil in hand.
After an hour of Chang talking, with questions from Rogers, and with occasional help from Guang, Will pointed with his pencil at a spot on the map of China.
“So, we're talking somewhere here, at the foot of the Yangtze Hills,” Will said.
“That still leaves us quite an area to search,” Rogers commented dryly. “Pity that the picture there doesn't give us a solid latitude and longitude.”
“Given how far it is, I am guessing about two days or thereabouts,” Will said. “That is, if we do not run into any trouble.”
“I concur,” Rogers said. “With your permission Captain, I will start running a plot.”
“Do so in a moment Lawrence,” Will folded his map up for Rogers to take away. Will looked at the rest of the room. In the hard glare from the overhead light tube, Tesla, and Abigail were looking done in.
“I think that we are done for the evening,” Will announced to them all. He looked at Chang, “We'll see if what you've given us turns out to be useful.”
“You are welcome Captain,” Chang replied.
“As you say, 'the enemy of my enemy’.” Will stared at her for a moment.
“Aiya, maybe,” Will allowed. He then turned to Saira who was still standing near the other woman. “Saira here will see you to somewhere you can doss down,�
�� the Captain said. “You will be locked in. Someone will always be with you as escort when you are called for. You try to get out on our own.” He moved his shoulders slightly, “you will likely get killed.”
“Why, Captain,” Chang remarked mildly, “You make it sound as if I am a prisoner.”
“Let us say that I want no misunderstandings,” Hunting Owl finally answered. “I am not partial to people who were looking at killing me a few hours ago running around loose on my ship.” Chang spread her hands.
“I have already apologized for that Captain,” Chang said. “As I explained, I thought that you were holding Lady Hadley under duress.”
“Like I said,” Will repeated, the steel evident in his voice, “no misunderstandings.”
“As you wish,” Chang stood. Saira rose to her feet at the same time. “I am fatigued,” the old woman said.
“This way then,” Saira said, pointing at the door.
“Lawrence, will you see that Guang here also gets a place,” Will directed. “Maybe have Tiku show him where?” Guang reacted to this by rising to his feet.
“I will remain where you say, Captain,” the former bodyguard said. Guang rendered a bow towards him. “So that there are no misunderstandings, of course.” Will nodded.
“Appreciate it,” the Captain said dryly. “If I am doing you wrong, consider that I am apologizing in advance.”
“My thanks again, Captain, for allowing me to stay,” Guang nodded. “No apologies are needed.” He left with Rogers.
“Abigail, stay a minute,” Will said, as Tesla and Abigail started to leave. “Tesla, you mind waiting on the Bridge for a moment?” Hunting Owl asked.
“Of course, Captain,” Tesla said readily. “And may I also offer my thanks for your decisions tonight.”
“How long do you think it will take you to do whatever it is that you need to do for the plague thing?” Will asked the Savant. Tesla's mustache twitched.
“The detector is relatively simple,” Tesla said. “With Lady Hadley's aid, it should be ready later tomorrow, perhaps. I do believe that it is considerably after midnight by now.”
“Yeah,” Will allowed, “Sorry to keep you up. I will have Abigail show you to a bed shortly.”
With a bow, the Savant left the cabin, leaving the two of them sitting across from each other. Will looked seriously at Abigail, noting the strain in the woman's face.
“As I said, it's been a hell of a day,” Will said. “How are you holding up?” He poured a drink in a clean glass and held it out to her.
“No, thank you.” Abigail waved her hand in refusal of the proffered drink, straightening up in her chair. “I am disappointed that we have not found Lord Hadley of course,” she said. “I believe that Tesla is correct that my father has returned to the site of the discovery. I am chagrined that I did not think of it myself.”
“We will find him,” Will said gently. “You have said how other things are. How are you doing? Shakes? Heart pounding suddenly? Dry mouth?”
“Nothing of the sort,” Abigail said. She stood up shakily, and licked her lips. “I should get to Tesla. He will not know what to make of things aboard ship, I am sure. Speaking of which, where should I guide him to?”
“Abigail,” Will began to offer to her that everyone had reactions to their first combat and then stopped. Thinking better of what he was going to say, he shrugged and downed the glass of rum he still held in his hand. If that is how she wanted to be, he thought, he was not going to interfere with her British 'stiff-whatever' act. Everybody dealt with death and combat in different ways. She had done well enough tonight that he figured she had earned the right to try dealing with it in her own way. He sat the glass down hard and looked up at her.
“Put him in the cabin across from yours,” Will ordered. “That’s Jarro's doss. I will let him know.”
“Thank you, Captain Hunting Owl,” Abigail smiled feebly. “Thank you for everything that you have done,” she said. “I do not know how else I should have survived today. I am in your debt.” Will gave her a tired grin at this.
“We aim to please, Lady Abigail,” Will said. “You're more than welcome.” Abigail nodded again and walked towards the door. Before she could reach for the handle, Will called out to her.
“Abigail,” he said softly. Abigail stopped before opening the door, not turning at his voice. Will noticed her shoulders twitch upwards. “You did as well as any air devil I've ever seen today. Get some sleep if you can.” Still facing the door, her shoulders relaxed as she replied.
“Thank you,” Abigail said. “I believe that I shall. It has been a most tiring day. Goodnight, Captain.” She opened the door and the sounds of the Bridge filtered in to Will. The rumble quietened again as she closed the door without looking back.
“Goodnight, Abigail,” Hunting Owl replied to the closed door. Everyone dealt with fire in their own way, Will reflected moodily. He only hoped the experience wouldn't cripple her. He recalled his own scars, and then poured another drink into the glass and drained it. Setting the glass down, he reached for the drawer where he kept his pipe and tobacco.
Tomorrow, he had to deal again with the highest toff Savant in the world. Will could probably just wave good-bye to his own life if Tesla came to any harm on his watch. It would save the governments of the world the trouble of a firing squad, he reflected.
He also had to deal with a motherly seeming crime boss who Will would bet was not what she said she was. They also needed to find an Invader thingamajig that could either be the best-thing-that-had-ever-happened to the world, or the worst kind of menace. If it turned out to be the latter, they’d need to destroy it. Will sighed. But that was tomorrow. Tonight he would offer smoke to the spirits in thanks, and ready himself for the coming fight. Surely they were a long way from done with this mess.
Chapter 15
Crow’s Nest Balcony, Wind Dancer, China
Abigail looked out at the false dawn and huddled in her coat. The wind seemed frigid after the heat of her tiny cabin. At least the air here was fresh, unlike the fetid soup of Hong Kong. She found the cold air was gradually clearing the cobwebs from her head.
Abigail had settled Tesla into the cabin across from her. She had been surprised to find that the giant with the fearsome tattoos kept a very neat cabin, hung about with decorative netting draped from the walls, and beautiful pictures showing the sea. Tesla had taken advantage of their aloneness to ask about her knowledge and experiences of the Wind Dancer and her crew. He was a quite good listener and had not interrupted her during her story. When she had finished telling him how she had come to be involved with them, he frowned.
“So,” Tesla said, “Your own experience with them is only a couple of weeks old? I believe that you understand the implications of what we are about. Do you trust them, Lady Hadley?” His gaze had turned intense as he asked the question
“Yes,” Abigail had responded without thinking or hesitation. “Yes, I do,” she repeated. They are,” she searched for the right words in her exhaustion. She came back to the conclusion she had in the hotel dining room with Preemus/Bardon. Had it really only been earlier in the day? It felt as if years had passed. “They are true,” Abigail finished. She brushed the tendrils of hair from her face.
“They are,” Abigail said, “as you have seen. Ruthless killers when attacked. They are not, however, in my experience dishonest or duplicitous. If Captain Hunting Owl has given his word that the Wind Dancer will aid us, we need fear no betrayal.” Her hand clenched as she forced down the memories that others could now say that she was also a ruthless killer.
“Then the Captain's mercenary dealing is only a front,” Tesla's mustache quivered in thought.
“Oh no,” Abigail laughed. “I do not doubt that Cap'n Will means to extract everything that you have agreed to. But he will never give less than full measure on whatever he has agreed to in return.” She paused again. “I have found that he, like the others of the crew, are unexpectedly generous to tho
se of good intentions. As I have said, they are ruthless to those of ill intent.”
“You almost make them sound like knights-errant rather than mercenaries,” Tesla harrumphed.
“Perhaps,” she allowed upon consideration. “Perhaps that is as good a description as any. Although,” she paused to stifle a yawn with her hand, “forgive me. I doubt that any of them would be found in holy orders.” She remembered what Saira had said about being a priestess, but a priestess of what? Abigail was far from superstitious, but what she had seen Saira turn into at the tower terrified some primal part of her soul that she could not quiet. Tesla looked at her with a somewhat softer expression.
“You are fatigued, Lady Hadley,” the Savant said, “and I have kept you talking. Thank you. You have set my mind at ease. I will send you to your rest now, and I shall do the same.”
She had crossed the hall to what she now thought of as 'her' cabin. She undressed, climbing into the narrow bed. She had forgotten how the faint vibrations of the engines felt so reassuring.
She awoke in a cold sweat, her heart pounding. Fragments of dream remained like something from a fever. The face of the woman Petrov had been snarling at her in her sleep. It had melted into the face of the man she had killed in the slum. As she watched him die again, the face had melted into that of her father, who fell to the ground. In terror she knelt beside the dead body, only to find her hands covered in blood. She screamed as she came bolt upright.
Staggering to the button in the dark, the tiny room was lit in the harsh white light from the tube overhead. She knew that she couldn't go back to sleep. Instead she had dressed in the shipboard clothes she had worn earlier. and made her way up to the crow's nest, where she had attempted to banish the nightmares. It wasn't completely working.
She startled at a touch on her arm. Saira, dressed in a heavy coat like hers, wordlessly held out a steaming cup of tea. Abigail took it and absently sipped. It was the hot, spiced tea that seemed to always be available in the galley, no matter what the time of day. The liquid warmed her down her center. She realized with a start just how cold she had become. She held the mug out to the smaller woman who silently gestured that she should keep it.