by Adam Dreece
“Maybe, but it’s not written by my hand,” said Caterina.
Simon glared at Franklin. “What is this?” he asked removing the card inside.
“It was on your chair,” answered Frankly, his hands shaking. “Some of your papers on the wall had been moved, too. Hard to notice at first, but I could tell.”
Caterina quickly added. “Your Neumatic Tube has been used, too. As if someone took the papers, sent them somewhere, had them sent back, and then tried to make everything look like nothing ever happened. Maybe they sent them to our enemies so they could have monks quickly copy them? Or maybe they just needed to read them, to see what we were up to? Interestingly enough, it seems like the person responsible left you a letter, and a tip.”
Simon removed the letter and the hundred crown note. “Abeland?” He was mystified. “How could… wait, this isn’t his handwriting.” Studying some of the loops it hit him. “Richelle! Richelle Pieman must have done this. You have to—”
“I have to do nothing,” said Caterina, slowly and decisively. “You and I both know what that money means. That’s one of Abeland’s playful signatures, isn’t it? A way to say that the rest of the payment has been sent wherever it was supposed to be sent. It explains now why you didn’t kill him. How much did your loyalty cost?”
Franklin turned away from the conversation, his eyes wide with surprise. He couldn’t believe the impact of what had been a sudden impulse. He felt his hands tremble. His mind was racing.
“What do you think?” asked Caterina, surprising Franklin.
He stared at her, lost.
“What do you think we should prioritize, in terms of invention? You caught a glimpse of what was going on in Simon’s former office. What do you think we should be doing?” she asked, hinting that he should repeat part of their private conversation.
Simon wore the desperate expression of a caged animal.
“We should build the steam train, but not the version I saw in there. My father had a limited vision and understanding of it. I can make us one that’s ten times better.”
Caterina shot a glance back at Simon. “Very well, Conventioneer Watt, so it shall be. I’ll have you know that suspended Conventioneer St. Malo had recommended we go slow and steady, and, moreover, that you wouldn’t add any potential value. Prove him wrong, and you’ll change the world.”
Franklin avoided Simon’s burning gaze.
Putting her arm around her new conventioneer, she added, “You may use this study as your own, for now. Alfrida will put you in contact with our army of metal-smiths, advisors and whatever other resources you need. Don’t disappoint me.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Scout's Honor
While their hooded cloaks kept the heavily falling rain at bay, Amami and Richy’s boots were no match for the muddy puddles. As they approached the small town’s stone arch entrance, Amami grabbed Richy’s arm.
“We need to be really careful here. Don’t look anyone in the eyes, and let me do all of the talking,” said Amami. She glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to them.
Richy glanced at the plaque with the town’s name. They were in Teuton somewhere, at a town he’d never heard of. “Okay. You look worried, why?”
She was surprised. “You mentioned Marcus Pieman, don’t you know who he is—was?”
“Not really,” replied Richy.
“He was the president of the country you’re in right now, Teuton. With him gone, the parliament has fallen into chaos and civil war. Red Hoods have been seen everywhere. Remember what I told you the other night about them?”
Richy nodded. “Run, stun and lastly, kill them, if need be.”
“Yes. They cannot be trusted,” she replied, smiling. “I’d prefer if you weren’t wearing that cloak, it’s very noticeable.”
“It’s the only one I have, and more than that, it’s who I am. It makes me feel connected to my friends.” As lightning flashed, Richy noticed something about her cloak. He reached out and confirmed it. There was black embroidery on the edges of dark fabric. He looked at her. “Who are you, really?”
“There will be time for that later. Right now we need to find out where your friends are, and the only person who I can trust to help us is here,” she answered, leading the way.
Richy nodded and followed. He had no reason to suspect anything, and he knew deep down that she was his sister, no matter what else she might be.
As they drudged through the muddy streets, occasionally getting splashed by horses and carts making their way in the dark afternoon, Richy noticed something. He reached forward and tapped Amami on the shoulder just as she was about to turn down a side-street. “We’re being followed.”
Taking a deep breath, she reached under her cloak to confirm her weapons were in place and ready. “Charge your…?”
“Shock-sticks, got it,” said Richy, fidgeting under his cloak as they continued straight ahead.
“We’ll double back in a minute, when there are less people around, or down another side-street,” said Amami, thinking of how the town was likely laid out. “Can you climb well?”
“Yes,” he said reaching out and touching the brick of the nearest building. “I think I could scale up one. There’s enough stuff to run up—”
Both of them stopped in their tracks as an electrified crossbow bolt narrowly shot passed them. They turned and stared at a Red Hood who was reloading a two handed, fat-tubed weapon with another bolt. His partner was yelling at the pedestrians to get lost, firing in the air with his pistol.
“Did he just shoot a shock-stick?” asked Richy, panic taking over his face. “Who are these people?”
“Is your cloak bullet-proof?” asked Amami, glancing at the buildings and the confused pedestrians around them.
“I think so,” said Richy, his charged shock-sticks firmly in hand.
“Run at the gunman,” commanded Amami. “Trust me.”
With a nervous gulp, Richy did as ordered. The partner took a shot, which bounced off harmlessly as Richy put everything he had into not slipping on the slick cobblestone road. The Red Hood smiled as his weapon was nearly reloaded. They both could see he’d have a chance to fire before Richy hit him.
Suddenly, Richy felt a weight on his shoulders, and then he watched as Amami flipped over him and kicked the Red Hood square in the chest, knocking him clean over. Richy pivoted and struck the partner with one of his shock-sticks. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Amami hide something back in her cloak as the Red Hood flailed about, blue lightening arching on his body as it did on the partner.
Amami walked over and took the big weapon, slinging it over her shoulder. She then grabbed the coin purse of the Red Hood and threw the coins around, distracting the onlookers.
“You’ll like my friend Eg. She’s a lot like you,” said Richy with a smirk.
The door creaked open and the carcass of the old bell bonked. The old woman at the meat counter hadn’t needed the bell to alert her for decades, though for the past few years she’d spent hardly any time at the shop. She closed the book she’d been reading and looked over her spectacles at the two hooded figures.
“So, Amami, you keep company with a Yellow Hood now?” she asked, sitting back in her stool and folding her arms. Her curly grey hair and round face gave her a grandmotherly appearance, but her eyes were sharp and her presence tangible.
Pulling back their hoods, Richy glanced at Amami who shrugged. “How do you—”
“Oh, my!” said the woman standing up. “Come here, child. Come.” She gestured to him. Richy approached the counter and the woman grabbed his cheeks and stared at his eyes. “They’re blue. True blue as I’ve ever seen. You found him? You found Riichi?”
Amami nodded.
Richy gently removed the woman’s hands from his face. “Who are you?” he asked. “Are you my aunt?”
“No,” she replied touching his arm gently. “I knew your parents, and a few years ago, this young lady showed up her
e. She was in trouble. It was one of her many attempts to find you. I gave her a helping hand and introduced her to some people who could teach her to take better care of herself. When I heard about a blue-eyed boy with a face from over the Eastern Mountains, I sent her a message. And here you are.”
“Thank you,” said Amami. “I am forever in your debt.”
Richy recognized the cane behind her, leaning against the wall. “Where did you get that?”
Glancing over her shoulder at it, she shrugged. “It’s an old thing. I’ve had it for years.”
“No, you haven’t,” replied Richy, reaching into his cloak. “That was Anna Kundle Maucher’s. I’d recognize it anywhere. Who are you?”
The old woman’s eyebrows arched, as she studied him. “Where are you from?”
“Who are you?” insisted Richy.
“Please, Riichi, she’s a friend,” said Amami.
Richy glared at the woman. “Madame Maucher led Tee, Elly and me into a trap with the Red Hoods… But you know that already, don’t you?” he said, seeing something in her eyes.
“Yes, Anna told me before she died a couple of weeks ago. We escaped when Marcus’ palace was destroyed, but she didn’t make it far.”
“Wait, that means you’re the Butcher!” said Richy. “I can’t believe it.”
“My name is Eleanor DeBoeuf, Senior.”
“Then you need to help us find Elly and Tee, and Egelina-Marie and Bakon—”
Eleanor put up her hand, cutting Richy off. “Have you heard of Kar’m?” she asked, looking at him and Amami. They shook their heads. She continued, “We heard a few days ago that Caterina was planning something big for Kar’m, but we aren’t sure if we can trust the source. Sam Baker is off trying to finalize support from the one remaining ally we seem to have.”
Richy stared at the floor, his sense of duty coming to the forefront. “How do we help?”
“Amami, do you still have your King’s-Horse?”
She nodded.
“In the morning, you’ll start scouting for the rails and anything interesting going on. I feel we have little time.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Thinking What I'm Thinking
“Oh,” said Bakon, as they came over the ridge and saw hundreds of people working below. “I guess I don’t need to ask where you’re taking us anymore.” He dismounted and stared in disbelief. “What is all of that?”
“Those thirty foot wooden platforms with the chairs are rail-rafts. They ride on those metal lines, the rails. Those things in the middle of the platforms are how they move. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced,” said the escort soldier, a smile on his face.
“So it’s people powered,” said Egelina-Marie, surprised.
The soldier beamed with pride. “For now, but I hear they’re working on that.”
“What is that thing?” asked Egelina-Marie pointing at something that was being pulled into a rail cart. “Is that some kind of air balloon?”
“That is a Skyfaller. If we had arrived earlier, you would have seen it come close, lower its ropes and be slowly pulled onto the cart. They really are something to behold. Monsieur Maurice, you should be quite proud. This will be a legacy with your name on it.”
Bakon grumbled.
A very young soldier approached and exchanged salutes with the escort soldier. “Private Jugend will see you to see your seats. Enjoy our first outing. We don’t usually have dignitaries on these missions, but I believe it’s always best that you get to see what is really happening in the field.”
Egelina-Marie glanced at Bakon and then at the escort soldier. “Agreed,” she said, trying to sound official but worried she sounded corny. The closer to the rail-raft they got, the more curious Eg became of the chairs. “Why do they have ropes?”
“Because if they didn’t, you’d fall off,” said Jugend, rolling his eyes.
Eg nodded. “How many rail-rafts are there here? There seem to be three Skyfaller carts and lots of soldiers.”
Jugend looked Egelina-Marie and Bakon over. “Ma’am, I don’t see any official indications of your rank, so I’m going to have to decline answering that.”
Bakon chuckled. “Oh, boy.”
“Ma’am? Ma’am?” replied Egelina-Marie. “How old are you?”
“Ma’am, I’m just—”
Egelina-Marie stepped forward. “Ma’am!?”
Bakon put a hand on her shoulder, and shook his head.
“How old are you, kid?” she asked. “Twelve? I bet Richy could babysit this kid.”
A distinguished looking lieutenant with a fat face stepped in, dismissing the private. “Mademoiselle Archambault, Monsieur Maurice, if you would please follow me to your seats.”
Eg glanced at Bakon, who was thinking. After they were seated and shown how to properly tie themselves in place, she finally leaned over to Bakon. “Are you okay with them calling you by your mother’s last name?.”
“There’s more to this whole Pieman and Maurice thing than we’re seeing,” replied Bakon.
“True. Maybe I’m just trying to defend you. Why didn’t you correct that boy? Calling me ma’am.”
Bakon smiled at her. “I didn’t realize you needed defending.”
“A woman can be strong and still appreciate some chivalry now and then.”
Nodding, Bakon replied, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
For a while, they watched the soldiers make preparations for their departure. Despite having asked along the way, they had no idea where they were headed or what the mission was. All they knew was that it was important.
“I have an idea,” said Egelina-Marie. She grabbed the arm of a passing soldier. “Excuse me? Are we leaving just yet?”
The soldier glanced around. “No, Mademoiselle. It’s probably… I don’t know… another twenty or thirty minutes.”
Smiling with her eyes, she said, “Oh. Well, do you mind if Monsieur Maurice and I get up and walk about for a bit? All of this is so wonderfully new to us.”
“I don’t think it will be a problem,” he replied. “You’ll just need to hurry back to your seats when they blow the whistles. Is that okay, Monsieur Maurice? I hope it doesn’t bother you, but I must follow protocol.”
Bakon nodded, puffing himself up. “No worries, proceed my boy.”
Eg elbowed him as the soldier left. “Don’t ham it up too much.”
“That was too much? Geez, it was half what I was thinking.”
She buried her head in her hands. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Stop them from taking over the world?” offered Bakon.
“Yeah, sounds about right.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Family Matters
Christina tightened her fists as she approached the roar of arguing voices coming from the former royal court chamber. Despite the years, the room had presence, and was only used for the most important meetings. She hated getting yanked, once again, away from an issue that was nearly solved because there was a bigger problem that required her attention. There was an endless stream of bigger issues, and a flooding river of unhappy people.
As she stepped into the room, all eyes turned to her. In all the years that she’d been at Kar’m, first as an Abominator seeking refuge, and then working her way through the leadership, she’d never seen things in such a state. It felt like someone was intentionally taking everything apart, but she nor her inner circle could find any evidence of a plot.
Remy was standing on the elevated platform. His face was flushed with frustration and his arms folded defensively. Christina dragged herself up beside him and scanned the crowd. More than two dozen parts of Kar’m were represented. Everyone was fed up.
“Why’s she tapping her pistol?” asked someone. “Is this her new way to keep things under control? Unacceptable!”
Christina glanced down, and stopped the guilty finger from tapping her streaming gun anymore. “Would someone please tell me what this is all about? You’ve been tea
ring each other apart for weeks now.”
Canny’s voice cut through the rest. “You’ve abandoned us to play mommy with those… those children.” His brother was beside him, nodding in profuse agreement.
“You’re touching your pistol again,” Remy whispered.
Christina scanned around for something she could slam her fist on, but there was nothing. Finally, she erupted, “Stop it! Stop this… this mob behavior! You are the most intelligent, inventive people this side of the Eastern Mountains, and look at yourselves. Something clearly has you spooked, and you’re falling apart. You’re tearing us apart.” She gazed at the paused faces, many of them glancing at those around them. “The world out there is scary right now, and we need to come together now more than ever before. If everyone takes a bolt from the machine, then no one should be surprised when the whole thing falls apart.” She noticed Canny’s brother whispering to him. “And if anyone says I or anyone saw this coming, they are lying. And if you knew, then shame on you for not bringing it up.”
Straightening her brown leather vest, she subconsciously counted her belt pouches and she paced. “We’re used to existing solely for the good of progressive thinking, a refuge from the purge of brilliance, a beacon against the age of dark mindedness that has spread.”
“It’s a nice speech, but the reality is that they are coming for us,” said Canny. “Can everyone else feel it? There’s something wrong.” Many nodded, some looked about nervously.
“That isn’t helpful,” chastised Christina. “You of all people—”
“I, of all people?” replied Canny, “I told you weeks ago when you visited my lab. Since then, things have only gotten worse. The Piemans and the Tub, they used to leave us alone. And now?”
There was a look in Canny’s eye that bothered Christina. She glanced at the faces around him. Something was up, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
“Christina,” said Angelina stepping into the room, her voice booming and drawing everyone’s attention. “You’re needed upstairs, now.”