We slammed into the door at the end of the hallway, having not seen it in the dark. Brassy rattled at the handle, finally yanking it open.
She fell out while I slipped through the door. A shape moved in the darkness behind me. I slammed the door and engaged the lock. The bolt slipped into place right as Santiago hit the stone door with considerable force. A few nighttime birds in a nearby tree burst into the sky, wings fluttering.
I helped Brassy to her feet and rubbed the warmth of the outside into my frozen limbs.
"Farewell, Santiago," I said to the mausoleum door.
"Farewell, Katerina," he said.
I left in silence with Brassy at my side, heavy with the night's events.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The courtyard garden hardly seemed the place to put the final touches on our conspiracy, but Djata had insisted we meet in the estate rather than the Thornveld. He'd said it was because of the difficulty of moving down the stairs to the tunnel in his wheelchair, since he'd been in Philadelphia making preparations, but I suspected neither he nor Ben wanted Brassy inside the hidden chamber again.
Bees zipped amid the flowers, forcing me to wave away the occasional yellowjacket from my lemonade. Ben had prepared a pitcher of the tart drink to quench our thirst while we discussed the final details, though he was absent for the moment, having gone inside to fetch something important.
The air was unseasonably warm for mid-April. Brassy wore a lavender gown with frills around the neck and waved a fan for cooling. Her shiny black hair framed her sun-blushed cheeks, while an errant curl hung over her ear, making me want to tuck it back into place.
Djata stayed beneath the shade of the canvas awning. He drummed his fingers in a rolling pattern on the arm rests, grimly staring into his lap.
I wore a chartreuse low-necked silk gown with a wide lace collar. Usually I preferred men's attire when working, but our meeting was meant for conversation only, leaving the airy dress most suited for a warm spring day.
Ben appeared by the time I'd finished two glasses of lemonade and was considering a trip to the outhouse. He was wearing a Continental Army officer's uniform. The navy blue coat with red facing had golden buttons and fit the trim Franklin quite well. A saber hung at his side, and the scabbard was edged with horsehair.
"I wasn't sure if this would still fit me," he said, patting his belly. "I think I've gained half a stone working in the Thornveld with no time for a brisk swim in the Delaware."
"Why do you need an army uniform?" I asked.
He stroked his chin, sizing me up in my feminine dress. "In due time, no need to rush ahead and spoil all my secrets. Is everyone present?" He glanced around. "Where's our favorite pangolin?"
Suddenly, the bushes near Ben exploded with movement, leaves bursting in every direction. Aught stuck her golden head out the side, right beneath Ben's arm.
"Ha! How delightful," said Ben, looking down. "Is everything clear? Are we safe to begin our conspiracy in full?"
Aught carefully climbed out and pulled herself up onto a wooden chair, completely ignoring that she'd just demolished one section of a manicured bush. She sat on metallic scaled haunches that clinked as she settled down.
"Clear, the estate is," she said.
"Wonderful," said Ben, clapping his hands softly. "For now is the time we reveal the artful lengths by which we have availed ourselves of our opponents’ predispositions, which is to say, we have cunningly conspired."
Ben took a moment from his elocution to sip from his glass of lemonade, which was surely warm by now. He was barely containing his childlike exuberance for the plans, his gaze twinkling with import.
"You're never one to miss an opportunity to expand when one could speak plainly," I said drolly.
He shot me an irrepressible grin, knowing I was barbing him. After the last few years of solitary effort, it was quite enjoyable to be a part of a team. Even Djata didn't seem his normally morose self, offering a gracious nod from beneath his shady canopy.
"Everyone has a part, and I'm playing mine impeccably," said Ben. "But enough verbal tip-toeing, I shall get straight to the point."
"Which is?" I prodded.
He looked me square in the eye and without a trace of sarcasm said, "We're going to declare war on Philadelphia, and by proxy, the United States of America."
If I'd been taking a drink, it would have sprayed from my unbelieving lips. "You speak of treason."
"Treason only counts if you get caught," said Ben.
I glanced at Djata, who was unmoved by the reveal, so I knew he and Ben had been working on this plan for quite some time.
"Besides the obvious logistical problem of the five of us launching an attack on an actual country, for what purpose do we want to attack? Isn't the country preparing for war with Russia? Wouldn't we be flying right into their teeth?" I asked.
"You have the right of it with the flying part. We shall make an aerial attack," he said.
"On the country with the greatest airship force in the world? Do you have the barrel fever? Or has working with the galmi made you believe you're a god?" I asked incredulously.
"I appreciate your caution, Kat, it's quite necessary in times like these, but please let me explain before you tear the feathers from the goose," said Ben.
I inclined my head, waving my hand in a go-on fashion.
Ben began to pace, not with any fever, but more a jaunty stroll while he explained the details of his plan.
"The reason we are going to launch our attack is to keep William Bingham's influence out of the war room. President Washington is too good of a soldier to risk a long distance attack while an enemy looms nearby.
"So while we cannot stop the vote for war with Russia, we can delay the attack until a later date, much later I hope, and by then have a better understanding of the nature of our foe," said Ben.
My lips went through contortions as I chewed on his explanation, but Ben waved me off.
"Questions, concerns, yes, I see them on your face, Colonel Katerina, but let me finish. The major conundrum: how do you launch an attack when you have no airships of your own? You make Philadelphia think that it's being attacked.
"You remember last week in the Thornveld when Aught made the galmi drop that crate and it disappeared in a flash of smoke? It was made of flashpaper. It's an unstable material that Djata developed during his research into other matters. The material is similar to parchment and can be folded, glued, and painted safely. However, add a small spike of energy: an impact, flame, or a surge of electricity—and it explodes in a flash. And its destruction is quite safe. You could be wearing a dress made of it and only come away with a few black stains on your skin when it exploded."
"Wouldn't that be a sight," said Brassy, eyes-a-wonder.
"So you're going to make a fleet of flashpaper airships and launch an attack on Philadelphia? Won't the American airship captains notice they're not real?" I asked.
"Yes. That's where Brassy will come in," said Ben. "We can't let the flashpaper airships be engaged with real ships in air to air combat. Nearly every day, the Continental Army's airships have been performing maneuvers over the countryside. We'll just make sure they're not in the city when the attack is made."
I shook my head. "This will only encourage Washington to attack sooner. Especially when he easily destroys this flashpaper fleet. It won't work unless there is real danger."
Ben looked sheepish. "You're right. And this is the tricky part of the plan. One of the airships will be real and it'll be outfitted with a spectral cannon like the one on the Brave Eagle. Using one of my contacts, we were able to acquire the plans and Djata made a smaller version, and since we have the Otherworld gauntlet, we can power it."
Realization slowly dawned on me. "You're going to have to destroy part of the city, aren't you?"
He nodded grimly. "We'll do our best to make sure it's uninhabited, but yes, there must be a full display, or they won't respect the danger."
"I d
on't think you understand how horrific that spectral cannon is. That's where I go to train, the hilltop the Brave Eagle destroyed. It's like the finger of God came down and wiped it out," I said.
"Then we'll be careful," he said.
"That's it?" I asked, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach. "That's the plan? Fake an attack on the city and try not to kill too many people?"
Ben crossed his arms. "I welcome other options."
I thought about bringing up the lives we might risk, but I realized we risked more if we failed to act. There were no easy answers in war, and only the bold survived.
"Well then," I said, "I guess I'd better learn what part I have in this farcical war."
Ben quirked a smile while rubbing his hands together.
"Don't worry, Katerina, you're going to enjoy what I have planned for you," said Ben.
Despite his enthusiasm, it was that statement that worried me the most.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The half-burnt oak tree shattered into a thousand pieces as the wave of billowing black sorcery slammed into it. As deadly shards of wood ripped the foliage into shreds, I fell to my knees, spikes of pain twisting my eyes closed.
Even though I could not see Zentrii floating on a cloud above the hillside brush, I readied myself for her inevitable disappointment—the arch of her eyebrow, the flatness of her gaze.
"Well, that wasn't completely terrible," said Zentrii. "You did knock that leaf off the branch, along with the rest of the tree, and you didn't black out. If that doesn't count for improvement, then I'm an elephant's fart."
I lifted one eyelid, gazing in her direction. She was smiling. Grinning even, as if we were dowagers having tea amid a room filled with aromatic flowers in delicate vases.
I'd been expecting: “Again, Katerina, again!” or “I've seen better efforts from a dead witch” or other such insults.
"Have you given up on me?" I asked.
She recoiled, offended. Her slender tongue licked across her lips in a whip-like motion. "Given up? Never."
"Then why aren't you yelling at me?" I asked.
She paused and stroked her scaled chin. "Do you prefer it?"
"Well, no," I said. "It's just...you're acting different."
"Yelling wouldn't solve anything," said Zentrii as she glanced to the west, her gaze lingering there for a moment. "As I've said, it's going to take you decades to get a grip on your magic. No reason to push."
I wasn't sure I had decades. The other night I had awoken in a pool of sweat, lying on the floor. Though it was dark, I was certain there had been tentacles at the end of my arms rather than hands. After a brief scream, I was able to light a candle to find that I did indeed have hands, but relief did not come, because they were covered in a fine goo and felt rubbery when I moved them.
Except for my training with Zentrii, I'd avoided using magic. At this point, I wasn't sure the training was even helping.
"What if I can't control it?" I asked suddenly.
Zentrii looked me over, tilting her head this way and that. "I've already told you the consequences. If you don't practice, it will take you."
"What if there are complications? What if I'm not getting better, but rather making it worse?" I asked.
"I can't help you then," she said, more quietly than I would have expected.
"You'd probably want your reward if I ended our sessions," I said.
Her eyes widened briefly. "That would be up to you. I promised to be your teacher in return for that prophecy. It's up to you if I have done a worthy job."
"Yes, I would like to end our sessions," I said. "Though not forever. I just need to take a break. Then I'll be ready to train again."
Zentrii leapt from her cloud, landing on a patch of verdant grass, a blotch of green on the otherwise brown and black hill.
She looked behind her again, smiling. "Yes, that would work nicely. How long would you like to wait?"
I tried to hide my curiosity. She seemed very interested in something to the west.
"A storm," she said, catching the look on my face. "A good and proper storm brews in the west."
"When will it arrive?" I asked, hoping it wouldn't interfere with Franklin's plans.
She tasted the air with her slender tongue. Then after a moment of contemplation, said, "Tomorrow afternoon." She grinned, the scales on her face cracking wide. "A real bolt thrower, if you get my meaning."
My insides knotted with worry. If the American fleet noticed the incoming storm, they'd cancel maneuvers. That meant we had to move the schedule up, but not everything was in place yet.
"A few months," I said.
"A few months, what?" she asked.
"I would like to take a break for a few months," I said. "Is that possible?"
Gazing westward into the future storm, Zentrii tapped on the ends of her fingers, counting. "Yes, a few months would be more than possible, it would be perfect."
I couldn't help myself. "May I ask what you'll do?"
"Of course, you may," she laughed, head snapping back. "No, I shall tell you. It's no secret. I'll spend the summer riding storms over the endless plains to the west."
"How endless are these plains?" I asked, curious.
"They're vast fields upon which my storms build and build until they're the most magnificent castles ever imagined." She stared into space dreamily. "And beneath those immense storms, beasts travel in packs so large they can't be counted."
The storm-kin was more relaxed than I'd ever seen her. She normally wielded her quips like a barbed whip, lashing out at each misstep. Today, she had more in common with a young woman in love than with a vicious demon.
"Are you ready?" I asked, wanting to return home so I could contact Ben.
"Ready to leave? No, I need to stay here for another few months before I head into the west," she said.
"No. The prophecy, are you ready to hear it? I'll give it to you if you want. It would be unfair of me to hold it back since it's me who's delaying the training," I said.
The prophecy Zentrii desired to hear was waiting within the coiled mass. Like a slender snake slipping free from its siblings, the prophecy uncurled from my mind, emblazing itself into my thoughts.
She didn't consider her answer long. "That won't be necessary. I'd like to wait."
"But it seemed quite important before," I said, perplexed and squinting as I could see nothing except the words of her prophecy unfolding.
...when encircling storms...
"Prophecies are dangerous things," she said with a smile, as if she knew what it was doing to me. "If I am not ready to act upon it, then it would be ill-advised to hear it."
...windows of gray reveal the misdeed...
Like snatches of a hummed melody, the words rose and fell. Clamping my eyes closed did nothing to keep them back, so I screamed inside my head.
...the House of Dandridge will be no more...
I was able to force it back beneath the surface of my subconscious, but it boiled with implications.
...fall from the sky...
After a while I was able to open my eyes without feeling like the prophecy would unravel.
The storm-kin watched me, an amused curl to her lips.
I wondered if that'd been her purpose, to ensnare me in the prophecy much as the Gamayun had done. But it didn't feel that way. Lady Chloris had said I hold a power over it and I believed her, despite her perceived opposition.
More likely, it was the mercurial moods of the storm-kin, who'd decided she'd played with her toys enough.
"How shall I contact you when it's time to resume my studies?" I asked.
"Face the north wind and shout my name three times, then turn to the east and repeat, then south, then west. At this, I will hear your call, though know it may take some time before I return, depending on my condition," she said, twirling a hand in the air.
"Thank you, Zentrii," I said. "I will miss these sessions."
She bared her teeth. "No need to lie. But I
shall take you home." She glanced to the west. "I have things I need to do."
Chapter Twenty-Six
It was early in the morning, the day before the vote. The streets of Philadelphia were draped in the colors of the country for the upcoming war as if it were a celebration of Independence, rather than a sending off of its young men to die.
Yesterday, the merchant district had been packed with women finding new dresses and hats to wear at the launching, which everyone knew would be only a couple of days after the vote. I feared their excitement would turn to horror if the fleet was allowed to attack Russia. Ben Franklin had received ominous tidings from his sources in the Ottoman Empire that things were not right in the motherland. But none of it was concrete enough that he could have taken the information to President Washington. We would have to carry through with Franklin's deception, and hope that would be enough to delay the attack.
Standing in a grove of trees, about fifty feet from the Office of the Fleet, a relatively non-descript brick building with windowless dormers on its angled roof at the Camden Yards, I looked hesitantly to the east. The sky along the horizon was dark, but no signs of storms had revealed themselves as the storm-kin had promised, though I could taste an energy in the air.
"You aren't supposed to be here," said a low voice from behind.
I hadn't heard the soldier sneak up and wheeled around, hand moving to my rapier hilt.
A short-statured soldier in Continental blues was grinning at me. I recognized the petite features of Brassy in disguise.
"You're late," I whispered under my breath.
"The ferry was delayed. A number of officers crossed the Delaware, and I didn't want to ride with them for fear of discovery," she said.
"Officers? It's too early. They shouldn't be arriving to prepare for maneuvers for another two hours!"
"They went to the hangars to check the ships first," said Brassy.
"Yes, and next they'll come here to review the plans for the maneuvers. Merde. We need to hurry," I said.
The Franklin Deception (The Dashkova Memoirs Book 4) Page 16