She fumbled in her vest pocket. Mamma wears her seal on her watch fob, and when she tossed it to me, it was nice and warm from being tucked so close to her heart. I poured a perfect round dollop of hot wax, then pressed carefully. The seal of the Army of Califa is the same as the Warlord’s seal, of course, five arrows bundled with a swirling ribbon. It looks quite nice impressed in wax, very balanced and round.
“You are piling up, darling,” Mamma said, pushing another paper toward me.
“You are squiggling,” I said. “That could be anyone’s signature.”
“But only one seal.” Mamma skidded her pen across the paper, splotching ink. “Chop-chop.”
I blotted and sealed. Sometimes, court-martials are quite interesting—murder or mayhem—but these were all stupid stuff: drunk on duty, uppity in the ranks, kicking the captain’s cat. Nothing yummy at all. Soldiers can’t hardly do anything that is fun, and if they disobey an order, no matter how dumb that order is, they are in for it. Here was a sergeant spending thirty days in the guardhouse for having dirty buttons (Mamma dropped him down to time served), here was a corporal spending four months in the guardhouse for snarking off to his commanding officer (Mamma gave him another month and a flogging). There was nothing interesting at all, and my tummy was really burning with emptiness now.
“Hang in there, Flora. We are almost done,” Mamma said, pushing her document over to me. “Where’s Aglis with those papers?
Lieutenant Sabre had left the room, but now he returned with a folder. He handed it to Mamma, who flipped it open and dipped her pen.
“General, I beg your pardon but before you sign—”
“Ayah?”
Lieutenant Sabre was looking at me. Mamma paused.
“Flora,” Mamma said, “my red-tape dispenser is low. Would you run out and get some more from Pecos? We are going to need it.”
“Mamma—”
“Flora.” She said my name in the Voice that makes colonels cry. I got up, a tiny part of me annoyed that she so obviously was dismissing me, but another part of me was suddenly apprehensively excited. Something was going on.
So I went, whistling cheerfully, as though going to fetch red tape was my favorite thing in the entire world.
“Close the door behind you, Flora,” Mamma called.
I did, gently. Lieutenant Sabre has his own office, right next to Mamma’s. They have an adjoining door, and this adjoining door, though closed, has a transom above it. The window was only slightly open, but slightly was enough.
“...insists that you release the Dainty Pirate to his custody.”
The Dainty Pirate? I stood on tiptoe, trying to get my ear closer to that open window. Not for the first time I wished I were taller.
“Not a chance in the Abyss. The Dainty Pirate is my boy. I got him, and I will spank him. You can tell Lord Axacaya’s envoy to go home unsatisfied.” Mamma’s voice sounded hard, flat. “He’s my prize and I shall keep him.”
Mamma had captured the Dainty Pirate! Udo was going to absolutely die. The excited flutter in my tum became a full-fledged hurricane. But why was this incredible news a secret? For years, the Dainty Pirate had been the scourge of the coastline, robbing and plundering any vessel that crossed his path. Ayah sure, the Dainty Pirate had dainty manners and never actually killed anyone, but that didn’t make him less of a thief. His capture would be a huge success for Mamma and increase her popularity even more.
Lieutenant Sabre coughed nervously. “I beg your pardon, sir, but Lord Axacaya’s envoy made it clear that because of your previous association with Boy Hansgen, he doubts your ability to judge this case fairly. I beg your pardon.”
Boy Hansgen? Nini Mo’s right-hand man? No one had heard a jot from him since after the War, but he remained the most wanted man in Califa. What did Boy Hansgen have to do with the Dainty Pirate?
“Lord Axacaya is wrong in this matter. Many years ago, Boy Hansgen and I were friends, but I have no such friendship with the Dainty Pirate. This situation must be resolved quickly. If the word gets out that the Dainty Pirate is Boy Hansgen and he’s in our custody, it’s going to get ugly.”
Boy Hansgen was the Dainty Pirate? I almost spit with excitement; if I hadn’t been trying to be cool as a cloak-twitcher I’d have shrieked. The Dainty Pirate’s true identity is unknown, and although the press is always speculating, no one had ever speculated that he was Boy Hansgen. Boy Hansgen alive? A real ranger—alive!
Mamma continued: “I want this warrant carried out immediately, Aglis, the sooner the better. Until then, I want him held in complete secrecy. It will be a disaster if the press catches wind of this. And I want him disposed of before Axacaya has time to get the news back to Anahuatl City. And Goddess knows, I don’t want the EI to hear about this. Who knows what stunt those idiots might pull.”
The EI—the Eschatalogical Immenation—is a revolutionary society devoted to the eviction of all Huitzil influence on Califa. They are completely against the law, but are often in the newspapers, although they never seem to do much besides paint slogans and post anonymous broadsides.
“Ayah, sir,” Lieutenant Sabre answered. “There’s a batch of prisoners scheduled to be removed from Presidio Guardhouse to the Zoo Battery prison tonight. I’ve arranged for Boy Hansgen to be moved with the rest, and I’ve instructed the Zoo Battery commander to prepare the gallows for tomorrow night.”
The gallows? The gallows! Mamma was going to hang Boy Hansgen, the last ranger? Nini Mo’s sidekick? The heat of my excitation went dead cold.
“Is he secure? I do not want him getting away, Aglis.”
“He is secure, General. There is no way that he can escape.”
“Good. Would you see what happened to Flora, Aglis—”
I abandoned my eavesdropping and rushed back to Mamma’s office, pausing in the hallway for just a second, to try to compose myself. Lieutenant Sabre opened the door and gave me a severe look, which I ignored.
“There you are, Flora! I hope you weren’t goldbricking,” Mamma said.
“I wasn’t fooling around, Mamma. Sergeant Carheña was gone and I had to go to supply for the red tape,” I said sweetly, waving the wad of red tape that I had oh-so-luckily stuffed in my pocket earlier. My tone was sweet, but my tum felt sick.
“Here’s the last one. And don’t peek. It’s sensitive.”
She slid the document over to me. The top half of the page had been obscured with a blank piece of paper, leaving only Mamma’s signature visible. But I knew what it was, and after I poured, I hesitated. My hand had trembled, and the wax had splotched most unprofessionally.
“Chop-chop, Flora. What are you waiting for?” Mamma said impatiently. “The wax is hardening.”
I sealed the Dainty Pirate’s death warrant.
FOURTEEN
Dinner. Sneaking. Eagle Eyes.
RANGERS HAVE TO learn to smile, and lie while they smile, and look content although they are grievous pained. But it’s not easy to look carefree and blissful when your brain is churning like a flood. I could barely work my lips into a smile, and now I had an endless eternity of dinnertime to get through before I could make my escape.
Lucky for me, Lieutenant Sabre went to the O Club with us. Normally I would have kicked up a fuss over sharing Mamma after she had been gone for so long, but tonight I was glad to not be the full focus of her attention. Even Flynn, begging under the table, was a welcome distraction.
Dinner with Mamma at the Officers’ Club is always a prolonged affair. As soon as you sit down, ancient officers start hobbling over to the table to compliment Mamma on this, or ask for her permission on that, or offer their opinion on another thing. Tonight was no different; in fact, it was probably worse because Mamma had been away for so long.
Between the endless interruptions, Mamma asked questions about the Catorcena, homework, Poppy, and the dogs. I answered, trying hard to squeeze my voice into some semblance of normal, but it was hard. Continuing lucky for me, though, Mamma remained s
omewhat distracted, and now that I knew the reason, her “wee tot” and the lengthy meeting with the Warlord made perfect sense. But so many other things did not.
How could she? How could Mamma send the last ranger to the gallows? Boy Hansgen—he’d been her friend—he was no less a hero than Mamma herself was. He’d never surrendered, never given up. If his capture was a secret, why didn’t Mamma just let him go?
If I had been a better ranger, like Nini Mo, I could have teased information out of her without her even knowing I was teasing; I could have scryed the situation in the smear of gravy she left on her plate, or I could have burned my Will through Lieutenant Sabre’s smooth forehead as he sat there at attention, chewing his steak, burned it right into his brain and known all his thoughts. But being only just me, all I could do was sit there, churning with questions, and try to look blissfully ignorant.
“Did you get your dress done, Flora?”
“Ayah, Mamma.” Brief stab of guilt, but I would have it done next time she asked. In fact, Valefor might have finished it by now, for true.
“Are you all right, Flora? You seem a bit agitated.”
Another sharp stab. “I think I am getting sick,” I said, and then before Mamma could say anything more, the waiter whisked our plates away and asked if we wanted dessert. I did not, but alas, Mamma did, and of course Lieutenant Sabre followed her lead. I just wanted to get out of there before my facade completely cracked.
Mamma had finished quizzing me; now she turned her questions toward Lieutenant Sabre. Relieved to be off the hook, I sat there wishing dessert would hurry up—and then we had another interruption. A lieutenant in a red sash, which meant that he was Officer of the Day (the officer on duty when everyone else has gone home) and, thus, the interruption was official.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” the lieutenant said, after saluting. “But I would not trouble you at dinner if it were not important.”
“Ayah, so, Lieutenant Hulle?” Mamma asked impatiently.
The lieutenant leaned over and whispered into Mamma’s ear. Her lips twisted and she put down the fork she had been fiddling with, then murmured something to Lieutenant Sabre, which I, darn it, could not quite catch.
Lieutenant Sabre whispered back. I tried not to appear attentive and twiddled my spoon, wishing I knew a sigil to enhance my hearing.
Murmur. Whisper. Murmur. Mamma. Hulle. Mamma. Sabre.
“Thank you, Lieutenant Hulle,” Mamma said.
The lieutenant turned sharp on one heel and marched away, weaving his way through the tables that were now all staring at us.
Mamma sighed. “Will you excuse me, darling? I’ll just be a moment, but I have something to attend to. Sit tight, Aglis, thank you.” Lieutenant Sabre, half out of his seat, sat back down.
I could tell from Mamma’s look that she was displeased. “What happened, Mamma?”
“Don’t eat my cake, darling. I’ll make it quick.” She stood up, tossed her napkin on the table, and made her way toward the front of the Club.
“What is it?” I asked Lieutenant Sabre.
He was glaring at Mamma’s back, the first real crack in his perfect yaller-dog facade I had ever seen. “Lord Axacaya. He wanted to speak with the General. He has the nerve to come here!”
Lord Axacaya is a powerful adept and Mamma’s greatest enemy. He is not a true Califan; he came to the City many years earlier, fleeing from the Huitzil Empire. There he had been not just an adept, but divine. The Huitzils worship a hummingbird god, who feeds not on pollen and dew, but on blood and pain. The Flayed Priests of Huitzil take children from their real parents and raise them as the sacred offspring of this god. Then at a time ordained by the Flayed Priests’ oracles, these divine sons and daughters are sacrificed to keep the Waking World in balance. (Thankfully, the Huitzils didn’t make us take up that practice when we made peace with them.) Lord Axacaya was one of those divine children. When he was fifteen, he should have died under a sacrificial knife; instead, he fled and came to Califa, and with him he brought war. The Huitzils wanted him back, but the Warlord, after granting him sanctuary, wouldn’t turn him over, and thus the conflict between our countries began.
And then later, when the War was not going so well for us, Lord Axacaya plotted with the Huitzils to turn Califa over to them if his life would be spared. If Mamma hadn’t found out in time about his plotting, we probably would have lost the War completely. Instead, Mamma was able to force the Huitzil Empire to make peace, and though the terms were more to their benefit than ours, still we remain a free country, thanks to her. I think Mamma would have executed Lord Axacaya if she could have, but he’s under Huitzil protection and, therefore, untouchable.
“It must be pretty important,” I said, fishing. And, I thought, it has to have something to do with Boy Hansgen.
Lieutenant Sabre said viciously, “Pernicious traitor. The General should have ripped his lungs out while she had the chance. Now he lords over us all.”
“If Lord Axacaya wants something, why does he have to ask Mamma for it? Why doesn’t he just take what he wants? Mamma has no authority over him.”
“It’s not that simple. Under the Peace Accord, Califa maintains some independence and the right to conduct our internal affairs without interference—” Lieutenant Sabre stopped and looked at me suspiciously. “What makes you think that Lord Axacaya wants something from the General?”
Pigface Pogostick! I felt my face grow stiff and hard. I tried to arrange my mouth in an innocent smile. “Why else would he come here but to ask Mamma for something personally? I mean, he could have just sent a messenger if it wasn’t important.”
Lieutenant Sabre wasn’t buying my feint. He looked at me so long that my face grew hot and my lips began to quiver. Rangers do not quiver, nor do they show they are caught. “I think I’ll take Flynnie out—” I said hastily, before my facade collapsed completely.
“Ah, the transom,” Lieutenant Sabre said suddenly, and he smiled a bit. “I have found it useful myself at times.”
“Transom? What transom?”
He looked at me appraisingly. “You will remember, Madama Fyrdraaca, that this is a matter of state, and you will be discreet?”
“You won’t tell Mamma, will you?” I asked hopefully.
“Not if you swear on the goddess Califa to keep silent.”
I glanced around to make sure no one was in whisper range, and then whispered: “Ayah, I swear, but I don’t understand—the Navy’s been chasing the Dainty Pirate for years. Why is Mamma keeping his capture a secret?”
“Shush—”
A plate of chocolate cake appeared before me, and then the waiter whisked around behind Lieutenant Sabre and plunked another plate in front of him, and then a plate in front of Mamma’s empty place. A second waiter offered coffee, which I took, but Lieutenant Sabre declined for himself and for Mamma (which she wasn’t going to be pleased about, I was sure).
As soon as the waiters were gone, Lieutenant Sabre said in a low voice, “When we sued for peace, what was the Birdies’ first demand? The Ranger Corps be disbanded—the Birdies were afraid of the rangers’ power and influence, and afraid of their magick. As Nini Mo’s sidekick, Boy Hansgen was extremely popular. If word got out that the Dainty Pirate was captured, and that he was Boy Hansgen—think of the commotion. He’d be a hero and a rally for those who oppose the Huitzil overrule. At his execution, there would be a public outcry—maybe even riots. It’s the General’s job to keep the peace, as distasteful as sometimes that peace may be. And anyway, whatever Boy Hansgen may have once been, the Dainty Pirate is nothing but a common criminal.”
“But why does Lord Axacaya want him?” I asked. “If Mamma’s to execute him, isn’t that what Lord Axacaya wants?”
“Ayah, but the General will execute him via Army regulations, and it will be short and sweet. Lord Axacaya would handle him according to Huitzil law, and that would be different.”
“How?”
Lieutenant Sabre hesitated. “It
would be messier. Also, Axacaya doesn’t know that Boy Hansgen and the Dainty Pirate are one and the same, and the General thinks it best he remains ignorant.”
“Have you ever seen him?” I asked. “Axacaya, I mean.”
“Ayah.”
“Does he really have an eye in the middle of his tongue?”
Lieutenant Sabre looked startled. “Gracious me, where did you read that, madama?”
“The Califa Police Gazette.”
“You should elevate your reading habits. The CPG is hardly the proper reading material for a young lady of good breeding—”
“Does he?”
“No,” Lieutenant Sabre said, “but his eyes are black as pitch.”
“Lots of people have black eyes.”
“Not like this. I mean, his eyes are all black, even to the whites. He has trafficked so long in darkness that it has suffused his body, and now it stains the windows to his soul, reflecting his inner impurity.”
I’d never heard of an adept whose eyes had turned to black, but then Lord Axacaya is a son of the Butterfly Goddess and he knows many dark and bloody arts.
It suddenly occurred to me that, though Lieutenant Sabre was being a surprisingly useful informant, I was missing out on an even more valuable opportunity to eavesdrop. Plus, maybe even get a glimpse of the boo-spooky Lord Axacaya myself.
“Excuse me, I have to go to the loo—I’ll be right back.” Before Lieutenant Sabre could comment, I bolted.
In the foyer, the Table Captain stood behind his stand, flipping through his reservation book nervously. The guards that normally stand outside the Club’s front door were now standing inside, and they were holding their rifles at Port Arms, which is two positions away from Shoulder Arms, which is one position away from firing.
Earlier, the sliding doors to the Saloon had been open, though the Saloon itself had been empty and dark. Now those doors were closed, and two figures stood like sentries before them. They were heavily veiled, as formless as darkness, though their robes were a bright verdant green and fringed with brilliant feathers. The guards stared at these figures, and these figures—well, because of their veils, you could not see where they were looking.
Flora Segunda: Being the Magickal Mishaps of a Girl of Spirit, Her Glass-Gazing Sidekick, Two Ominous Butlers (One Blue), a House with Eleven Thousand Rooms, and a Red Dog (Magic Carpet Books) Page 10