by Mary Wine
He’d never forgive her for turning over a Deep Earth Crystal to the Helikeians.
Never.
***
“Captain Kyros cannot delay departure. It is time for you to depart, Doctor.”
Dr. Nerval snorted, but Bion didn’t shrink away from him.
“I suppose you are correct, compatriot. We need to rename you. Your Illuminist name is foul upon the lips.”
“I only care that you call me Navigator,” Bion replied. “But the matter at hand is your departure. Captain Kyros will risk discovery if he delays departure for London, and your true identity will be unmasked if you are not at your clinic. You need to leave if you intend to be aboard the airship when she leaves the station.”
“Yes, he is correct. Which of course accounts for how he has risen to such a high rank without being discovered,” the doctor muttered. “A keen intellect.”
“You’re leaving?” Grainger demanded. “Before she finds anything of value?”
“Yes,” the doctor informed him. “I need to report to the council personally. Finding her has been a triumph I have no intention of being deprived of telling them personally, and our soon-to-be Navigator makes an excellent point. I will continue to use my clinic to find more assets.” He looked up to where Janette was picking her way over the lava flow. “You shall be personally charged with ensuring she produces what is expected of her.”
Grainger protested. “Why? I’ve proven myself already. Bion should have to earn that reward he demanded of you.”
“He has earned it by jumping ship. It was a sacrifice, actually. Keeping both Kyros and Bion in their positions would have been best.”
“Too bad. If your compatriots are going to demand such dedication from me, there was no way I was going to set course back to London while the first Pure Spirit we’ve discovered goes into the Crystal Fields without me,” Bion argued.
“Root balls can be transported,” Dr. Nerval insisted.
Bion crossed his arms over his chest again. “That they can. But not necessarily to me. Do I look like an untried boy to you? I’m not the only one who will want a root ball if she discovers one. I plan to stay right here to make sure I receive my price.”
The doctor wasn’t pleased. He pressed his lips into a hard line but finally nodded. “See that she is diligent. Give them hats tomorrow. Heat stroke will sap their strength too much.”
Grainger and Bion watched as the doctor departed. Grainger turned a hard look on Bion the moment the doctor’s carriage left.
“You are not in charge of this operation,” he insisted.
“Neither are you,” Bion answered.
Grainger stiffened. “You think you know so much, but you understand little. That bitch is the child my father always wished I was. My family has been charged with recovering her bloodline for three generations. Once she bleeds, I’m going to breed her, so keep your cock away from her.”
Grainger turned his back on Bion. He had his family honor to restore and bring glory to.
***
“There are two fresh lava flows and the known Crystal Fields,” Guardian Cyrus offered. “My suspicion is that they would go to one of the recent flows because there are fewer Illuminist teams in those areas.”
“Why?” Darius inquired. “Recent flows have other resources to offer beyond crystals.”
“Yes, but they cool unevenly. It makes them dangerous to traverse. The rock can appear cool but in reality only be a few inches of solidified rock. When you step on it, it can fail and send you into the molten lava or release a toxic-gas geyser.”
“And Janette knows nothing of the dangers of the Crystal Fields, thanks to Agapitos and his plot.” Darius ground his teeth as frustration threatened to drive him mad. He’d never felt so helpless. Time felt like it was crawling, each mile taking too long to cover. The islands were small compared to the rest of the land masses in the world, but today, they seemed massive.
“She had managed to surprise us a few times with her cunning,” Lykos offered.
“Yet you still believe her innocent of planning this entire event?” Cyrus inquired.
“I do,” Darius insisted. “She could have departed for the Crystal Fields with Dr. Nerval without being rescued from the clinic. There would have been no reason for Sophia Stevenson to bring Janette’s imprisonment to my attention. Janette is innocent; I’ll stake my future on it.”
Guardian Cyrus nodded reluctantly. “I could wish that were not a fact, but it is. You’ll end up before a Marshal before this is finished, even if you end up neutralizing her to protect our interests.”
Darius stiffened. Understanding was clear inside the carriage. Every Guardian had to come to terms with the necessity of protecting the Order above any remorse they might feel personally. It was a greater sacrifice than giving one’s own life in the service of the Order because one would have to live with the knowledge that they had taken the life of an innocent.
For the most noble of reasons, but an innocent nevertheless.
***
“I thought that blasted sun would never go down.”
Janette glared at Grainger. The man had a wide-brimmed hat on and sipped a glass of water. He handed it off to a native man who was wearing only a length of fabric wrapped around his groin.
“I suppose I should take you in for the night, even if you have produced nothing of value.”
Her mouth was as dry as winter wool. She wanted to rub at the prickling along her forehead but knew better. The skin was tight and burned. One slight touch would send pain rippling through her. Sophia had fared no better. Her friend was red everywhere her dress didn’t cover. Janette even discovered herself longing for her gloves. They would have been hot and stifling, but at least they would have protected her hands from the sun.
“I have never done this before,” Janette insisted.
“Then you had best prove a quick learner, if you plan to continue eating.”
Grainger gestured toward the edge of the lava flow. It was slow going, but she went gratefully. Grainger locked them both inside the small hut she’d spoken to the doctor in. The inside was still warm from the afternoon sun, but at least the walls were only made of stacked-up lava stone. The wind whistled through the gaps, carrying away the heat.
“What a toad,” Sophia muttered. “You really shouldn’t have come, Janette. I hoped you wouldn’t.”
“Of course I would come after you,” Janette insisted. “He promised to cut off one of your toes to send with his next letter.”
Sophia snorted. “Yes, he delighted in telling me so. Toad. I would not have made it simple for him, and I would have endured if necessary.”
Sophia walked toward the back of the hut, where a large rock with a flat top had baskets sitting on it. There was one large bottle, and she lifted it to her lips for a drink. She had to force herself to stop, and water dribbled down her neck before she managed to overcome the urge to gorge.
“You should have to. This is all my fault.” Janette reached for the bottle, and her hands trembled because she was so parched. It seemed forever since her last drink of water, but when she began swallowing, her belly tightened around the first few mouthfuls, making it impossible to swallow any more. She sputtered and ended up wiping water off her chin as well.
The baskets held a meager offering of food, but the fruit looked delicious. Janette didn’t recognize most of it, but she could smell the sugar in it.
Her friend scoffed at her after taking a bite of a golden fruit with a prickly exterior. “It is not, Janette, and don’t you dare quibble with me. Not knowing what had happened to you was killing me. I arrived at your house just in time to follow you to that clinic. Well, I went straight home and changed into those cycling pantaloons so that I might tell Mr. Lawley—and I am glad I did. I would not have regretted it even if that toad had cut my toe off.”
Sophia aimed a determined look at her as they finished off the meal.
Long after they’d both crawled into the
sleeping nets, Janette found her thoughts lingering on Sophia. But no way to free her friend presented itself. Instead, she fell asleep, and her dreams were full of the man she’d broken her word to. At least that was how Darius would see it. Tears stung her eyes because she knew in her heart he’d never forgive her for leaving the royal compound. Understand, perhaps, but even if he was noble enough to forgive her, the Order would not. A Marshal would brand her a traitor just as quickly as her mother had been. Tears slid from the corners of her eyes, stinging her burned cheeks.
Darius might forgive her, right before he was ordered to execute her.
***
London
Compatriot Heron was pleased. Dr. Nerval savored the moment, drawing in a deep breath and holding it while he allowed satisfaction to sink into him.
“You have no right to praise this relic of an operative,” Compatriot Peyton announced. “He has allowed the Illuminists to know his position.”
Compatriot Heron lost much of his beaming expression. Dr. Nerval felt his control slipping for the first time in years. He thumped his cane against the floor. “I have brought you the first Pure Spirit in a decade. Now that she has been secured, it will take but a few more actions to make her removal from society complete. This council should reward me with the Sapphire Phalanx. It is my turn to be recognized by every member.”
Dr. Nerval stared at the brilliant blue sashes each man in front of him wore. They were symbols of the honor he’d spent years earning.
“I would never vote for such a thing,” Peyton announced.
“Yet I will,” Compatriot Heron remarked and looked at Silas, who nodded. “I suggest you reconsider your position, Compatriot Peyton, for you are in the minority. Never a wise position to linger in.”
Peyton grimaced; his lip rose, and the muscles along his neck drew tight before he bent and nodded. “I see the wisdom in my fellow compatriots’ decision.”
“Excellent,” Compatriot Heron muttered. Two lower members brought forth the sash. The doctor’s legs wobbled just a bit as he stood to receive his honor. The sash was lifted over his head before being settled perfectly across his heart. Heron stood and approached with the sapphire pin that could be worn at all times as a symbol of his new honor. Heron attached the small symbol of a javelin held in the grip of a snake to his lapel.
“Now, return to your clinic,” Heron said softly. “I will hope to hear from you again soon.”
The lower member followed him from the chamber after a flick from Heron’s hand.
“That was too generous.” Peyton argued.
“The gesture was not for him, but for those members watching him and how we respond to those who bring us what we want.” Heron cast a doubtful look at Peyton. “You seem to fail to grasp the long-term effects of our work here. That bothers me immensely.”
Peyton stood, offering the expected bow as his senior compatriot left the chamber, but he was fighting to maintain his composure. His temper flared, his pride suffering from the memory of seeing the sash bestowed on Dr. Nerval.
Janette Aston should have been his daughter.
Damn Mary and her mother for being crafty enough to escape his so brilliantly executed plan. Even twenty-five years hadn’t been long enough for the sting of Mary’s rejection to dim.
Peyton would be damned if some doctor was going to enjoy any benefit from the work he had done. The glory of producing a new Pure Spirit was his alone. Janette was his creation, even if she was not his daughter. In time, she’d bear his grandchildren, and they would be raised as Helikeians.
Compatriot Peyton left the nondescript building where the Helikeian council met and resumed his position as Marshal Photios. The sun had set, but his driver waited at the arranged spot. As a Marshal, no one questioned him. Not now—or twenty-five years ago when he’d overlooked the lack of evidence against Mary Aston.
He sat back in the dim interior of the carriage as the sound of steam filled it. The driver took them toward the outskirts of town with an expert hand.
Mary, or Zenais as he’d known her, was still able to impress him. Her intelligence had drawn him to her just as surely as her bloodline. They would have been magnificent together.
Bitterness filled him. Zenais had escaped him so very completely, but there was a satisfaction in knowing her daughter was her undoing. Photios grinned as the carriage swayed. Yes, Zenais had clearly raised her daughter with the same educational goals she had been raised with. That was her undoing in the end. Instilling a love in her daughter for the one place she had been banished from. Dr. Nerval was only a lucky man. Janette Aston had always been destined to seek out the Illuminists. The doctor had had nothing to do with it. All of it was the culmination of the plan Photios had put into motion twenty-five years before.
So the glory was going to be his too.
“Wait here.”
Photios received only a nod from his driver. The man didn’t look at him or which direction he went—such was the posting of a driver to a Marshal. He had complete authority, and his comings and goings were not subject to question.
Blind, trusting Illuminists. He was going to enjoy watching their kind fall. Soon, their Solitary Chambers would belong to the Helikeians, and it would be a glorious day indeed. With enough Deep Earth Crystals, they would arm their men with weapons the Illuminists refused to create in their noble determination to use their knowledge for the benefit of all mankind.
Photios snorted on his way through the back streets. They were narrow and used by supply carts and delivery boys. The well-worn paths used by the servants stood out clearly with the help of the moon. His cloak covered his suit, making him shapeless in the night. Once he reached the back door of the doctor’s house, he lifted his walking cane and rapped on the door with the solid brass ball on the cane’s end. The door was opened by a scullery maid, who hurried away when she saw the pin on his lapel.
Photios smiled. It was a smug expression, he knew, but merited because there were no servants in the doctor’s house who did not serve the Helikeians.
The cook appeared before him. A rotund woman, she didn’t say a word but waited for his instruction.
“Put this in your master’s drink. Tonight.” He extended his hand, a small glass vial in it. She took it without comment. “Do it yourself, and present yourself at this address tomorrow for a new position. Bring the girl who answered the door.”
The cook slipped the vial into her pocket. Photios turned in a swirl of black wool. He heard the door shut behind him. Let Dr. Nerval enjoy his new honor.
It would be his last triumph.
***
“Uncomfortable night?”
Janette jumped. The net swung with the sudden motion, and she spilled onto the dirt floor of the hut. Sophia jerked awake and ended up sprawled next to her.
Grainger watched from the doorway. “Another few hours without hats and you’ll both blister.”
Janette stood. “Whatever sort of satisfaction you’re hoping for, I doubt you’ll get it from either of us.”
His lips twisted into a smile, but it wasn’t a kind expression. Instead, it nauseated her, because along with it, his eyes narrowed and his gaze swept down from her face to settle on her breasts.
“As soon as I have confirmation that you aren’t carrying your lover’s bastard, I plan to satisfy myself as often as I please between your thighs.” The tip of his tongue swept over his lower lip.
“What a blessing that I haven’t had breakfast,” she muttered. “I’m sure I would have lost it in response.”
He raised an eyebrow. “In that case, you can get back to work with your belly empty.”
Grainger moved out of the doorway. “Find something if you want water.” He snickered at them. “You won’t live very long without it, and I won’t be bringing it to you without a very good reason.”
“Pay him no attention, Janette.” Sophia swept her past the man, using her body as a shield.
“I have to. We will die out there withou
t water.”
For the moment, they had only each other, but Janette felt strangely strong. Maybe it was the training she’d had in the few months since passing the exam or just the comfort of having her friend near. Maybe it was the way Sophia faced their dilemma without tears shimmering in her eyes. Whatever the reason, Janette looked out toward the lava with her chin held steady.
They would find a way to survive. She would.
It looked as if the hand of Satan had reached up from the bowels of the Earth to claw at the peaceful perfection. The dark red rock rested in long fingers among the lush tropical foliage where it had flowed before cooling. Steam rose from it in little wisps, and the scent of sulfur was strong.
“Shouldn’t we stay close to them?” the orderly asked.
“I can shoot them from here.” Grainger lifted his rifle and looked down the barrel at Sophia. “There is nowhere for them to hide. So I don’t need to roast out on that damned rock.”
“Come away, Janette. Let us improve our view,” Sophia muttered with enough sweetness to please even the sourest spinster. Grainger scowled at them, but Janette followed her friend.
“Have a lovely morning, ladies,” he called after them.
Janette concentrated on finding good footing. The lava still steamed in places, and it was like molten ocean waves had frozen. There was nothing even about it. They had to pick their way across it, their shoes slipping on bits of gravel and threatening to send them tumbling. At least they had hats today. Made of braided palm leaves, the wide brims at least made the sun bearable.
The humming began when Janette was shaking off a twist in an ankle. The pain gave way to the rhythmic sounds pulsing in time with her heartbeat. Steady and strong, they grew louder with only a single step.
“You hear one, don’t you?”
Janette nodded, biting her lip. “I’m going to have to get better at hiding my feelings.”