The room below us immediately erupted into screams and chaos. There was answering gunfire from below us and I could only assume there were other cloaked men directly beneath us as well. The audacity and insanity so full scale an assault was almost beyond all belief.
The Iroquois and Dominion Police reacted instantaneously and moved forward at the gunmen, fearless and heedless of their own danger as their reputations advertised.
The two ‘Rounders leapt up on the dais to physically shield the Prince, pushing aside everyone on either side of him, including Ambassador Chichua.
That was when I saw the plan for what it was; the doubles for Nenetl and myself were already near the dais and, in the chaos of the attack, threw themselves at the base of the platform, as if seeking cover. I saw the woman reach beneath her skirts for some object.
I had seen enough.
I smiled at Nenetl whose wide-eyed smile answered with the glee of a warrior ready to head into battle.
“Tally Ho!” I called to her and vaulted over the railing to grab for the bunting that ran the length of the gallery. I sensed rather than saw that the nimble jaguar was right behind me.
The two of us swung down on the bunting, which retarded our falls just enough so that we landed uninjured. Nenetl rolled to her feet with cat-like grace rising like a pagan statue, naked from the waist up and ready.
The attackers were now firing their rapid guns into the crowd but the constables were returning fire to keep them from being able to aim.
The jaguar girl, with single-minded determination, ran straight for the imposters.
I spun to turn back to the gunmen behind me and fired my pistol three times. The bullets struck home, missing one shot but the other two each took one of the shooters, in the centre of his forehead, one in the heart. A second gunman turned and drew a bead on me but a dark streak raced past me and threw itself into the gunman.
It was an Iroquois warrior of the Mohawk tribe, one of the bodyguards that had taken up the job of protecting Ambassador Chichua and his wife.
The uncloaked attacker fired his rifle and the copper skinned warrior was all but blown back from the killer. The Iroquois’ body was shredded by the ordinance, but as he fell the native threw a tomahawk at the gunman. The flying axe caused the gunman to dodge aside.
A second aboriginal leapt over his fellow, following the thrown weapon and tackled the gunman with a savage warcry.
A third gunman whirled and pointed his weapon at the Iroquois but I fired my last two bullets and took the ruffian in the body and head, knocking him back. Then my gun clicked on empty.
“Ronkwe, Iakwatatenonhkwe,” I yelled in Mohawk to the copper-skinned native. (Warrior, I am with you), “Rahronkas Chichua!” (See to Lord Chichua!).
I didn’t wait for a response but spun to race toward the dais.
The real Nenetl was already at the foot of the platform but one of the ‘Rounders had seen her and jumped down to intercept her.
As is often the case in high crisis it all seemed to unfold in slow motion: I saw the towering ‘Rounder land in front of the real jaguar to block her way. At the same time the female double was kneeling at the base of the platform and looked to be placing something under it. My own double was up on one knee with a pistol in his hand. He levelled it at the back of the distracted ‘Rounder and fired.
The screams and gunfire continued unabated so that it was a madhouse of confusion, a nightmare as if conjured from some fever dream.
The tall, white-garbed ‘Rounder, taken unawares by my double’s shot, folded forward without a sound of pain and was killed instantly.
At that moment the Merlin seemed to have awakened from some meditation, because he jumped up on the dais and with broad gestures cast a bubble spell around the dais that extended out to the first row of the dinner guests. The distortion in the air was clear in the gaslight of the room.
I was fortunate to be just inside the barrier, but so were the two doubles and Nenetl.
My evil twin- who now that I was close I could see only had a very superficial resemblance to me and he wore my dress jacket like a scarecrow so obviously was not a gentleman--turned his pistol toward Nenetl.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Party Favours
Before my double could pull the trigger again I yelled to draw his attention and threw my now empty pistol as if it were a tomahawk.
My improvised missile flew true enough so that he instinctively dodged, this threw his aim off and the semi-naked Jaguar reached him with a feline leap.
Nenetl struck him like a pouncing tiger and the two rolled to the floor till they bumped into the translucent spell wall that was intended to protect the dais.
I kept running, leaping over both the fallen ‘Rounder and the wrestling pair and jumped directly onto the woman who was posing as Nenetl.
I had no time for gentlemanliness, so I landed hard on the double and grabbed for the object in her hands which I could now see was a conventional bomb!
Close up the fake jaguar was no more a twin for Nenetl than my ‘double’ had been for me. She was a Metis with painted on tattoos that would look real enough from a short distance. The one thing she did have in common with my real warrior companion was that she was strong and obviously had some skill at wrestling.
The bomb was a small black box with clearly visible wires and switches. The impostor hissed like a snake when I landed on her and she reached for the box with her free hand in a desperate, suicidal gesture clearly intended to activate the switch.
I was having none of that!
I threw a very rude right fist into her jaw with all the indignation of the last day behind it. The faux jaguar went limp immediately.
I took the box from her and rose, to find myself facing the stun truncheon of the surviving ‘Rounder.
“Hold, soldier,” I heard Ambassador Chichua call. “ I know that man!”
“As do I,” Prince Edward called. “Explain yourself, Baronet Grey!”
I noticed for the first time that the sound of the gunshots was absent and there was a kind of deathly quiet settled over the whole of the room.
“In due time, my lords,” I called, “But this is an explosive device-- it must be taken away.”
The court sorcerer, the Merlin, stepped forward then. He was robed in blue and grey, younger than I imagined the Royal Merlin should be and showing signs of dissipation, though whether that was from the exertion of his force spell or his life at court it was hard to say.
“Place it down,” he said in a solemn voice that was just a bit shaky. “And step away from it.”
I did as he said and he took a deep breath then made a wild gesture, casting a ball of light from his hands that enveloped the black box. The bomb began to vibrate so rapidly it began to blur. There was a sudden sound like distant thunder and the a flash of light so bright we all had to look away then the bomb was gone, leaving only a smoking spot on the carpet of the ballroom.
Nenetl rose up over her fallen opponent, looking magnificent in her near nakedness. She stood above the bloodied form of my double, who was looking considerably less like me than he had moments before, and smiled at me in triumph. I returned her look with a grin and thought about how much fun it would be to see the London Times version of this battle and the sensation any illustration of my pagan warrior goddess would create.
The ambassador spoke sharply to his jaguar in their own language and she bowed her head and then fired off a rapid answer.
“Well, Baronet?” My Prince asked me again. He did his best to look sternly at me, but I could see his eyes wandered to the sweating physique of my warrior companion with a connoisseur’s appreciation of her torso. She was right about us British and our attitudes toward nudity.
I summarized my experiences of the last day for my monarch, taking care to be delicate about my time with Nenetl and adding details about the journey up the Mississippi as they were relevant.
While I spoke I kept my eye on Mister Sundiat. Th
e Malian gentleman was standing with Aunt Mini on the other side of the bubble protective spell around the nobles. I was pleased to see he looked a bit agitated, perhaps even nervous.
Mini along with the rest of the guests were being held in eyesight across the dinning hall, occasionally sending a cold eye toward me. I did my best to casually signal her using some of the plains Indian sign language she had taught me. I was pleased to see she slid her hand into her furred purse knowing that Little Ruckus was waiting for her to use in it.
I advised the Prince about what Mister Sundiat had said and how his agents had arranged the Pride attack as well. Edward arched and eyebrow and sent a sidelong glance at the Malian agent. I could see there would be some very serious conversations behind closed doors at the foreign office in the next weeks because of this day.
While I told my tale a Dominion Policeman brought a wrap for Nenetl and carted off the two worse-for-wear doubles in handcuffs. The jaguar came to stand beside me and despite the circumstance both of us found it difficult not to grin at each other.
When I had completed my outline of events the Prince considered for a moment then held up a hand. He turned from me and then announced to the room, “Ladies and gentlemen, please do not let this unfortunate incident dampen the spirit of this great occasion. The officers will come among you and escort you out to safety and medical services will be provided. Please stay calm.”
By now some Royal Marines from a ship at the dock in the river and more Dominion Police had arrived to blanket the area. I also knew that a Royal Aircorps ship now hovered over the hotel to be ready for any other eventuality.
The Prince turned to me and Nenetl and said in a more quiet voice. “I think you two should join Us and the Ambassador in our suite here in the hotel while the proper authorities sort all this out: I suspect it will be a sticky wicket for quite a while and I am getting hungry. ”
I looked to the jaguar and we made eye contact. She looked to her Ambassador and then back to me to nod.
I looked beyond her and saw my aunt looking to me anxiously. I also saw the nervous looks in my direction by Mister Sundiata who stood by her at the table. I signed to her again to warn her what might come.
“I would that two others should accompany us, your Highness,” I said, with a smile. “My Aunt, Lady Camden, and that gentleman from Mali- I think you will want to question him about this affair.”
I saw the Malian turn to leave when he saw me looking at him but, and he attempted to pull a knife to menace Mini, but she jumped back, pulled Little Rukus and jammed it under the dark skinned man’s chin.
The Royal Merlin removed the protection bubble and the remaining ‘Rounder moved across the room at Royal discretion and took the sedition agent into custody.
“Tarnation and thunder what in blazes has happened here, nephew?”
“It is twisted like a corkscrew, Auntie,” I said. “But I think we’ll get it all sorted out soon.”
“Now then,” The Crown Prince said with a guarded smile, “Shall we retire from this carnage and sort it all out.”
I took Nenetl’s arm and we followed my Prince.
“So how do you like your visit to Montreal so far,” I asked the jaguar.
“It seems everywhere you go is interesting, Athelstan,” she said with a tight-lipped smile. “I can not wait to see what happens tomorrow.”
I felt a sense of connection to the world at that point, and with Nenetl at my side a sense of purpose. I had no idea that in seconds the hand of fate was about to grip me by the throat and my world would change forever…
Chapter Twenty-Five
A Labyrinth of Evil
We were led, with the nobles, by a contingent of Royal Marines that had been brought in for extra security. The surviving Rounder and Iroquois guard walked directly beside the Prince and Ambassador with all their senses on the most high of alert.
I whispered some of what had happened to Mini who regarded me with a smirk, making eye contact with Nenetl beyond me. The two of them seemed to have an unspoken communication and I felt that somehow I was being ‘talked about’ in that secret, silent language that women have.
The Royal Suite at the hotel was a high ceiling series of rooms with the main sitting room already set out for a late dinner. Apparently the Prince had expected to not really eat much at the formal dinner, and I cannot blame him; I had never enjoyed formal affairs myself where one is always conscious of appearance and not of one’s own comfort.
The royal motioned us to sit.
“No ceremony, please,” Prince Edward said with relaxed, confident ease. “We had best to eat now before I am called away again once some semblance of order has been reached in the dinning hall.” He looked over at the ambassador.
“Lord Chichua and I have signed an agreement which will take effect no matter what havoc is wrought by these rogues,” The Prince continued. “And thanks, once again to you, baronet and this lovely warrior for your bravery in bringing this all to light.”
We sat and ate while several officers from a number agencies came and went, each with some detail to put before the Prince about what had happened or for his upcoming schedule. Several marines stood, as unobtrusively as possible at the corners of the rooms and The Merlin stood only a few feet away. The sorcerer placed a warding spell over the royal and his food that shimmered with a golden aura.
Mini and Nenetl ate and chatted like too school mates, without restraint, much to the Prince’s delight. I felt a little disconcerted wearing rags as I was in the presence of my monarch, but my hunger and a soldier’s ease with any ‘mess’ soon had me forgetting the circumstances.
The Prince asked several clarification questions of either myself or Nenetl about the night’s adventure and the trip up the Mississippi. He seemed genuinely interested and thoroughly charmed by the jaguar.
Lord Chichua and Lady Tozi were doing their best not to be discommoded by the chaos of the slaughter in the dining hall but so quickly on the heels of the dirigible attack the lady was showing the strain.
“You seem ordained to aid the interests of Mexhico, Baronet Grey,” Lord Chichua said between courses.
“Now that the treaty is signed, Your Lordship,” I said. “It seems that, in many matters, the interests of your and my empire are the same.”
“Point well taken, baronet,” he said with a smile. “ But it seems that not everyone in our empires feels the same.”
I paused in between bites of tasty veal to consider his words. Yes, there were clearly factions in the Aztec realm who did not want an alliance, and The Mali, Ottomans or even the Russians would not like to see our two realms in concert. That made me think about the actual attack; layers like an onion with our doubles calculated to spread discord, cloaked attackers screaming absurd separatist slogans calculated to confuse the issue. But why so complex?
One fact that kept coming back to me, however, was the matter of the stealth cloaks. How could any attack count on the cloaks not being detected? Surely anyone planning an attack on nobility would assume a Merlin in presence. Was that why there was a parallel plan with physical doubles and conventional bomb? Why?
That was when I realized that if there were factions on the Aztec side who did not want an alliance, there must be the same on the Albion side. Not only the Mali Empire might want an open hand in piracy, but there must be others who could contrive to make a profit from such chaos. What cartel was there to allow the looting of ships on the high seas? How could such profit be made by that cartel? Would not the reach of such greedy men be long?
I looked over at The Merlin standing behind my monarch and thought about him and his position. Since the original Merlin had helped the Great King Arthur ascend to the throne of Albion there had always been a court sorcerer. They, in part, had been responsible for keeping the Pendragon line on the throne for most of the Albion Empire’s history. Prince Edward himself was in direct line, with his branch having been restored after the roundhead rebellion.
&nbs
p; All Merlins were sworn to the highest standard of loyalty to the throne, so there could be no thought that the stealth cloaks slipping in the dining hall was anything but negligence on the part of The Prince’s Merlin.
Yet the more I thought about it the more I realized that such gross incompetence could not occur in a royal Merlin. He had to be complicit. After all, as proved with Eztl, humans, no matter how sworn, could be corrupted.
The Merlin had to allow the cloaks in the room to act as diversion. I had a sudden fear that this man, sworn to protect The Prince, was the most dangerous man in the realm. Who would police him? Could he allow poison through the food tasters? Could he spell The Prince to have a stroke.
No! He would be suspected for that; he would be the first one singled out for such an attack. But he could ‘allow’ a gap in his protection to occur and only receive strong censure.
It was exactly what he had done.
I thought about the bomb. It had not been a big device; not really enough assure the deaths of The Ambassador or The Prince in so open a room, but with the force bubble of protection that the Merlin had thrown around the dais the force of any blast would have been contained! That would have magnified the power of the bomb and would have been fatal to all of us – though I had to assume the Merlin would have found a way to ‘just barely’ survive.
Then The Merlin could have easily pleaded that he made a simple mistake. Would he have been censured, possibly even expelled from the Guild yet his purpose would have been fulfilled and his faction would certainly reward him.
All these revelations came to me in a moment between bites of food. I looked up at Mini and Nenetl, smiling and chatting beside me, at the Prince and Ambassador, obviously comfortable with each other and the new connection that had been made between their worlds. Everyone was at ease after the mad violence of earlier.
Gaslight Magick Page 11