‘What? You mean the order for – gods below, you’re still trying to kill the mother and her infant? After what, a third of a century?’
It was Esau’s turn to shrug. ‘Our sanctified elder never rescinded the command, and it is not for us to question his word. Once they learned of the child’s continued existence, my cousins were honor-bound to attempt to carry out the orders.’
‘That’s as stupid as anything I’ve ever heard from the Clan council. Times change, you know.’
‘I know! But where would we be without loyalty to our forefathers?’ Esau looked frustrated for a moment. Then he pointed to the glass display case. ‘Continuity. Without it, what would the Clan be? Or the hidden families?’
‘Without – that?’ Matthias squinted, as against a bright light. A leather belt with a curiously worked brass buckle, a knife, a suit of clothes, a leatherbound book. ‘That’s not the Clan, whatever you think. That’s just where the Clan began.’
‘My ancestor, too, you know.’
Matthias shook his head. ‘It wasn’t clever, meeting here.’
‘We’re safe enough.’ Esau turned his back on the Founder’s relics. ‘The question is, what are we to do now?’
‘If you can get your relatives to stop trying to kill her, we can try to pin the blame on someone else. A couple of candidates suggest themselves, mostly because they have been trying to kill her. If we do that then we can go back to plan A, which you’ll agree is the most profitable outcome of this situation.’
‘Not possible.’ Esau drew a finger across his throat. ‘The elders spoke, thirty-three years ago. I can’t rescind that order. Only our current elder can do that, if he cares to do so. And he won’t dishonor the ancestors’ memories lightly.’
Matthias sighed. ‘Well, if you insist, we can play it your way. But it’s going to be a lot harder, now. I suppose if I can get my hands on her foster-mother that will probably serve as a lure, but it’s going to cost you – ’
‘I believe I can arrange a gratuity if you’d take care of this loose end for us. Maybe not on the same scale as owning your own puppet countess, but sufficient recompense for your actions.’
‘In that case I’ll set the signs and alert my agents. At least here’s something we can agree on.’
‘Indeed.’
Matthias opened the door into the outer receiving room of the cramped old merchant’s house. ‘Come on.’
Esau followed Matthias out of the small storeroom and down a narrow staircase that led out into the courtyard. ‘So what do you propose to do once she’s dead?’
‘Do?’ Matthias stopped and stared at the messenger. ‘I’m going to see if I can salvage the situation and go right on as I was before. What did you expect?’
‘Do you really think you can take control of the Clan’s security – even from your current position – without being an actual inner family member and Clan shareholder?’
‘Watch me.’
*
Gathering twilight. Miriam hid from the road behind a deadfall half buried in snow while she stripped off her outer garments, her teeth chattering from cold as she pulled on a pair of painfully chilly jeans. She folded her outfit carefully into the upper half of her pack, then stacked the disguise she’d started out wearing in the morning on top. Then she unfolded and secured the bike. Finally she hooked the bulky night-vision goggles around her face – like wearing a telescope in front of each eye – zipped the seam in the backpack that turned it into a pair of panniers, slung them over the bike, and set off.
The track flew past beneath her tires, the crackle of gravel and occasional pop of a breaking twig loud in the forest gloom. The white coating that draped around her damped out all noise, and the clouds above were huge and dark, promising to drop a further layer of snow across the scene before morning.
Riding a bike wasn’t exactly second nature, but the absence of other traffic made it easier to get to grips with. The sophisticated gears were a joy to use, making even the uphill stretches at least tolerable. Seven-league boots, she thought. The other town, whatever it was called, not-Boston, was built for legs and bicycles. She’d have to buy one of the local bikes next time she went there, whenever that was. Despite her toast to the prospects of future business with Burgeson, she had her reservations. Poor Laws, Sedition Acts, and a cop who obligingly gave directions to a clearly bent pawnbroker – it added up to a picture that made her acutely nervous. It’s so complex! What did he mean, there’s no Scotland? Until I know what their laws and customs are like it’s going to be too dangerous to go back.
The miles spun by. After an hour and a half Miriam could feel them in her calf muscles, aching with every push on the pedals – but she was making good speed, and by the time darkness was complete the road dipped down toward the coast, paralleling the Charles River. Eventually she turned a corner, taking her into view of a hunched figure squatting by the roadside.
Miriam braked hard, jumped off the bike. ‘Brill?’ she asked.
‘Miriam?’ Brill’s face was a bright green pool in the twilight displayed by her night goggles. ‘Is that you?’
‘Yes.’ Miriam walked closer, then flicked her goggles up and pulled out a pocket flashlight. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Frozen half to death.’ Brill smiled shakily. ‘But otherwise unharmed.’
A vast wave of relief broke over Miriam. ‘Well, if that’s all . . .’
‘This cloak lining is amazing,’ Brill added. ‘The post house is just past the next bend. I’ve only been waiting for an hour. Shall we go?’
‘Sure.’ Miriam glanced down. ‘I’d better change, first.’ It was the work of a few minutes to disassemble the bike, pull on her outfit over her trousers, and turn the bike and panniers into a backpack disguised by a canvas cover. ‘Let’s get some dinner,’ said Miriam.
‘Your magic goggles, and lantern.’ Brill coughed discreetly.
‘Oh. Of course.’ Together they fumbled their way through the darkness toward the promise of food and a bed, be it ever so humble.
*
Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, Paulette’s doorbell chimed. ‘Who is it?’ she called from behind the closed door.
‘It’s us! Let us in!’ She opened the door. Brill stumbled in first, followed by Miriam. ‘Trick or treat?’
‘Trick.’ Paulette stood back. ‘Hey, witchy!’
‘It is, isn’t it.’ Miriam closed the door. ‘It itches, too. I don’t know how to put this discreetly – have you got any flea spray?’
‘Fleas! Away with you!’ Paulette held her nose. ‘How did it go?’
‘I’ll tell you in a few minutes. Over a coffee, once I’ve made it to the bathroom – oh shit.’ Miriam stared up the staircase at Brilliana’s vanishing feet. ‘Well at least that’s sorted.’ She dropped her pack onto the carpet; it landed with a dull thump. ‘’Scuse me, but I am going to strip. It’s an emergency.’
‘Wait right there,’ said Paulie, hurrying upstairs.
By the time she returned, bearing a T-shirt and a pair of sweats from the luggage, Miriam had her boots off and was down to outer garments. ‘Damn, central heating,’ she said wonderingly. ‘There’s nothing to make you appreciate it like three days in a Massachusetts winter without it. Well, two and a half.’
‘Did you get where you wanted to go?’ Paulie asked.
‘Yeah.’ Miriam cracked a wide, tired grin.
‘Give me five, baby!’
High fives were all very well, but when Miriam winced Paulette got the message. ‘Use the living room,’ she said. ‘Get the hell out of those rags and then go up to my bedroom, okay? I’ll flea-bomb the carpet. You can use the bedroom shower.’
‘You’re a babe, babe.’
An hour later Miriam – infinitely warmer and cleaner – sat curled at one end of Paulette’s living room sofa with a mug of strong tea. Brill, wrapped in a borrowed bathrobe, sat at the other end. ‘So tell me, how was your walk in the woods?’ Paulette asked Brill. ‘Meet any bea
rs?’
‘Bears?’ Brill looked puzzled. ‘No, and a good thing – ’ she caught Miriam’s eye. ‘Oh. No, it was uneventful.’
‘Well then.’ Paulie focused on Miriam. ‘You had more luck, huh? Not just a walk in the woods?’
‘Well, apart from Brill half freezing to death while I was trying not to get arrested, it was fine.’
‘Getting. Arrested.’ Paulette picked up the teapot and poured herself a mug. ‘You’re not getting away with that, Beckstein. Didn’t they accept your press pass or something?’
‘It’s Boston, but not as we know it,’ Miriam explained. ‘About two miles southeast of here I found myself on the edge of town. They speak English and they drive automobiles, but that’s about as far as the similarities go.’ She pulled out her dictaphone and turned the volume up: ‘Zeppelin overhead, with a British flag on it! Uh, four propellers, sounds like diesel engines. There goes another steam car. They seem to make them big deliberately, I don’t think I’ve seen anything smaller than a fifty-eight Caddy yet.’
Paulette closed her mouth with a visible effort. ‘Did you take photographs?’ she asked.
‘Uh-huh.’ Miriam held up her wrist. ‘You’ll have them just as soon as I get my Casio secret agent watch plugged into the computer. I knew those Inspector Gadget toys would come in handy sooner or later.’
‘Toys.’ Paulette rolled her eyes.
‘Well, now we’ve got a whole new world to not understand,’ said Miriam. ‘Any constructive suggestions?’
‘Yep.’ Paulette put her mug down. ‘Before you go over again, girl, we work out what you’re going to do. You need a lawyer or business manager over there, right? And you need money, and somewhere to live, and we need to find a place on the far side that’s away from human habitation in Brill’s world and we can rent on our own side. Right? And we need to understand what you’re messing with before you get yourself arrested. So spill it all.’
Miriam reached into her bag and pulled out two books then dumped them on the table with a bump. ‘History lesson time. Watch out for the one with the brown paper cover,’ she warned. ‘It bites.’
Paulette opened that one first, looked at the flyleaf, and sucked in her breath. ‘Communist?’ she asked.
‘Nope, it’s much weirder than that.’ Miriam picked up the other book. ‘I’ll start with this one, you start with that one, then we’ll swap.’
Paulette glanced at the window. ‘It’s nearly eleven, for Pete’s sake! You want I should pull an overnighter?’
‘No, that won’t be necessary.’ Miriam put her book down and looked at her. ‘I’ve been meaning to raise this for a while. I’ve been staying here, and I didn’t mean to. I really appreciate you putting Brill up, but two guests is two too many and – ’
‘Shut up. You’re going to stay here till you’ve told me what you’ve seen and gotten your act together to move out properly! And hit the deadline,’ she muttered under her breath.
‘Deadline?’ Miriam raised an eyebrow.
‘The Clan summit,’ Brill explained tonelessly. She yawned. ‘I told Paulie about it.’
‘You can’t let them do it!’ Paulette insisted.
‘Do what?’ Miriam blinked.
‘Move to declare you incompetent and make you a permanent ward of whoever the Clan deems appropriate,’ Brill explained. She looked puzzled. ‘Didn’t you know? That’s what Olga said Baron Oliver was muttering about.’
*
Iris raised the cup of coffee to her lips with both hands. She looked a little shaky today, but Miriam knew better than to make a fuss. ‘So what did you do next?’ she asked.
‘I went to bed.’ Miriam leaned back, then glanced around. The level of background noise in the museum food court was high and all their neighbors seemed to be otherwise preoccupied. ‘What else could I do? Beltaigne is nearly five months away, and I’m not going to let the bastards stampede me.’
‘But the other place, this new one – ’ Iris sounded distracted – ‘doesn’t it take you a whole day to go each way, even if you have somewhere to stay at the other end?’
‘There’s no point going off half-cocked, Ma.’ Miriam idly opened a tube of sugar crystals and stirred them into her latte. ‘Look, if Baron Hjorth wants to declare me incompetent, he’s going to have to come up with some evidence. He might shove it through if I’m not there to defend myself, but I figure the strongest defense I can get is proof that there’s a conspiracy out there – a conspiracy that murdered my birth-mother and is trying to murder me, too, not just the petty shit he and my – grandmother – are shoveling at me. A second-strongest defense is evidence that I may be erratic, but I’ve come up with something valuable. Now, the assassin’s locket takes me to this other world – call it world three – and I’ve got to wonder. Does this mean they’re not part of the Clan or families? They’re working on the other side and in world three, while the Clan works on the other side and here, call here world two and Niejwein is part of world one. I’m, I guess, the first member of the Clan to actually become aware of world three and be able to get over there. That means that I can see about finding whoever’s sending the killers – see defense one, above – or see about opening up a whole new trade opportunity – see defense two, above. I’m going to tie the whole story up with a bow and hand it to them. And mess up Baron Hjorth’s game into the bargain.’ She rolled up the empty sugar tube into a tight little wad and threw it at the back of the booth.
‘That sounds like my daughter,’ Iris said thoughtfully. ‘Don’t let the bastards realize you’ve got the drop on them until it’s too late for them to dodge. Morris would be proud of you.’
‘Um.’ Miriam nodded, unable to trust her tongue. ‘How have you been? How did you get away from them tonight?’
‘Well, you know, I haven’t had much trouble with being under surveillance lately.’ Iris sipped her coffee. ‘Funny how they don’t seem to be able to tell one old woman in a motorized blue wheelchair from another, isn’t it?’
‘Ma, you shouldn’t have!’
‘What, give some of my friends an opportunity for a little adventure?’ Iris snorted and pushed her bifocals up her nose. ‘Just because my daughter thinks she can go haring off to other worlds, running away from her problems – ’
‘It’s the source of my problems, not the solution,’ Miriam interrupted.
‘Well good, just as long as you understand that.’ Iris met her eyes with a coolly unreadable expression that slowly moderated into one of affection. ‘You’re grown up now and there’s not a lot I can teach you. Just as well really, one day I won’t be around to do the teaching and it’d be kind of embarrassing if – ’
‘Mother!’
‘Don’t you “mother” me! Listen, I raised you to face facts and deal with the world as it really is, not to pretend that if you stick your head in the sand problems will go away. I’m in late middle age and I’m damned if I’m not going to inflict my hard-earned wisdom on my only daughter. Come to think of it, I wish someone had beaten it into me when I was a child. Pah. But anyway. You’re playing with fire, and I would really hate it if you got burned. You’re going to try and track down these assassins from another universe, aren’t you? What do you think they are?’
‘I think – ’ Miriam paused. ‘They’re like the Clan and the families,’ she said finally. ‘Only they travel between world one and world three, while the Clan travel between world one and world two, our world. I figure they decided the Clan were a threat a long time ago and that’s probably something to do with, with why they tried to nail my mother all those years ago. And they’re smaller and weaker than the Clan, that much seems obvious, so I can maybe set up in world three, their stronghold, before they notice me. I think.’
‘Ambitious.’ Iris paused. ‘What did I tell you when you were young, about not jumping to conclusions?’
‘Um. You know better? Is there something you haven’t been telling me?’
Iris nodded. ‘Can you permit your moth
er to keep one or two things to herself?’
‘Guess so. Can you give your daughter any hints?’
‘Only this.’ Iris met her gaze unflinchingly. ‘Firstly, do you really think you’d have been hidden from the families for all these years without someone over there covering your trail?’
‘Ma – ’
‘I can’t tell you for sure,’ she added, ‘but I think someone may have been watching over you. Someone who didn’t want you dragged into all this – at least not until you were good and ready to look out for yourself.’
Miriam shook her head. ‘Is that all? You think I’ve got a fairy godmother?’
‘Not exactly.’ Iris finished her coffee. ‘But here’s a “secondly” for you to think about. Shortly after you surfaced, the strangers, these assassins, started hunting for you. To say nothing of the second bunch who tried to wipe out this Olga person. Doesn’t that suggest something? What about that civil war among the families that you told me about?’
‘Are you trying to suggest it’s part of some sixty-year-old feud? Or that it isn’t over?’
‘Not exactly. I’m wondering if the sixty-year-old feud wasn’t part of this business, if you follow my drift. Like, started by outsiders meddling for their own purposes.’
‘That’s – ’ Miriam paused for thought – ‘Paranoid! I mean, why – ’
‘What better way to weaken a powerful enemy than to get it fighting itself?’ Iris asked.
‘Oh.’ Miriam was silent for a while. ‘You’re saying that because of who I am – nothing more, just because of who my parents were – I’m the focus of a civil war?’
‘Possibly. And you may just have reignited it by crawling out of the woodwork. I’m wishing I hadn’t given you the shoebox now.’ Iris looked thoughtful. ‘Do you have any better suggestions? Are you involved in anything else that might explain what’s going on?’
‘Roland – ’ Miriam stopped. Iris stared at her. ‘You said not to trust any of them,’ Miriam continued, ‘but I think I can trust him. Up to a point.’
Iris met her eyes. ‘People do the strangest things for money and love,’ she said, a curious expression on her face. ‘I should know.’ She chuckled. ‘Watch your back, dear. And . . . call me if you need me. I don’t promise I’ll be there to help – with my health that would be rash – but I’ll do my best.’
The Bloodline Feud (Merchant Princes Omnibus 1) Page 36