by S A Shaffer
Representative Herald was the complete opposite. He arrived at his home after dark, shared a few harsh words with his wife, left the house not ten minutes after arriving, and walked to the nearest dance club. David decided against following the representative inside, as he had no interest in the kind of activities that occurred in such establishments and likely couldn’t get in looking the way he did. Perhaps he was a poor spy if he couldn’t do what was necessary to gather intelligence. On the other hand, a man who drowned his sorrows in dance clubs was probably not a man who could orchestrate and command a complicated, underground organization.
Tonight, however, proved an entirely different matter. David had saved Speaker Walker for last partially because he hoped he’d find a lead from at least one of the other three men before he risked spying on the speaker, as spying on an Alönian speaker was something of a crime. David gaped when the air-taxi dropped him off in front of the speaker’s mansion. His beggar garb was perhaps not an appropriate disguise for snooping in the Victorian Quarter of Capital Island.
Every major city in the Houselands had a wealthy residential district, but there was only one Victorian Quarter. It lay along the far eastern coastlands of Capital Island, facing the waterway that divided the Houses of Alönia from the City of Armstad. There the breadth of the Alönian Island sheltered the waves of the water, the most peaceful bit of ocean in the known plains. They had flown over it in the Sunbeam before the Prowler attack not three weeks back. No apartment towers graced the Victorian Quarter, as the houses there were apartment towers in most respects, with every single one standing several stories tall—mansions of gargantuan proportions. Strange and exotic species of shrubs and trees filled the entire quarter, creating a sort of giant park that wound between the residences. Gravel and cobbled paths connected and segmented the estates, lit by gilded lamps. There were no streets here, as it had been nearly half a century since steam cars graced the Victorian cobbles.
David paid the airfare and smiled at the taxi driver in a way he hoped was confident. However, the driver moved the coins around in his hand before looking back at David with a raised eyebrow. David rolled his eyes and handed over one more coin with a groan. Why was it air-taxis always wanted more than their advertised fee? David hoped he’d find some useful information tonight. If he did, Blythe would probably reimburse him for the whole foolish escapade.
After the taxi left, David looked up and down the scenic path, trying to decide if he’d be better off hiding in the bushes, hoping no one spotted him, or loitering as a beggar on the path, hoping nobody cared. One look at the manicured park, and he opted for the bushes. It would be dark soon, and chances were slight that anyone would see him. David dove under a shrub with wide, rubbery leaves and peeked between some spiky plants that made up a low hedge. Within moments insects were burrowing beneath his clothes and crawling along his skin. They were small, determined beasts, nibbling on his back. But he endured, keeping his vigil on the speaker’s mansion.
A perimeter fence of stone and twisted iron surrounded the speaker’s estate. Behind that David could just make out lush gardens, sprawling trees, and a tall stone house with elegant windows and a copper roof. Speaker Walker arrived at his estate at exactly six o’clock, riding in a Windward VX2—the latest luxury skiff, large as a gunship and known for its posh interior and comfortable ride. His driver dropped him off at the dock on the top of the mansion and then glided over to the skiff-house. David watched as the skiff disappeared behind a tree and wondered what he should do next. From his vantage point he couldn’t even see shadows in the windows. It was past dusk now, the last light of the day shooed away by darkness. As the temperature shifted, the soggy ground gave up its moisture and evening mists mixed with the night, covering the Victorian Quarter in a dense, low-hanging fog.
David decided to take a little more risk; after all, he’d come this far. He got up and crossed the park walkway under the cover of the fog. He perspired in the humidity of Swollock Season’s last day, causing his cheeks to redden. The winds were shifting, and in a couple of days it would be all thunderstorms for an entire season. David didn’t mind the storms; it was the vomit in the public airships.
As he ran across the stretch of ground, each footfall crushing a trimmed plant, he shook his ragged shirt out to extricate the bugs. Once across the path, he slipped into the undergrowth that fronted the estate wall. The wall seemed smaller from across the path. However, now that he stood next to it, he realized it was a good ten feet tall and topped with curled iron spikes. He looked down the length of smooth stone and saw a vine growing up its side a few paces farther. If he climbed the vine, he could peek into the estate. Why not?
David ducked down beneath the fog and crawled along the wall until he reached the vine. He paused at a patch of trimmed grass, a good spot to post up without stickers or insects to worry about. Hooking his fingers into the lattice of the vine, he lifted himself off the ground. The vine held his weight, so he climbed. On his third reach he heard the most peculiar sound. It vibrated the air around him like an angry beehive. He looked through the darkness, but he couldn’t tell where the sound came from—until a shadowy shape passed over and into the lights of the mansion. It was an airship unlike any he had ever seen. He barely heard it even though it flew right over the top of him. In fact, if it wasn’t for the tree beside him and its umbrella of foliage, it might have spotted him clinging on the side of the wall.
From his place on the vine, David could just see over the wall. The airship turned 180 degrees and landed on the patio in front of the mansion, squeezing between a fountain and a stone bench with hardly a foot on either side. Angular and aerodynamic, as well as aggressive and agile, it was shaped like a small catamaran: two long pontoons bridged together by a single-man cockpit. Two engines dangled below the cockpit, but they were unlike any engine David knew of. They looked more like rocket carousels. David gawked at the ship. Everything about it was wrong: pontoons too small, engines too exposed, and a hull that didn’t have enough room for both man and machinery.
As David marveled at the ship, the windscreen opened with a hiss and a lithe man slipped out and walked across the patio toward the main entrance. He walked with his hands clasped behind his back, his step light and deliberate. The front door opened before the man reached it, and Speaker Walker stepped out and clasped hands in a curt but familiar fashion. After the two exchanged what were likely the usual formalities, Speaker Walker motioned toward a path leading to the gardens around the side of the house, and the pair disappeared.
David bit his lip when he lost sight of the men around the side of the mansion. He looked around the yard, spotting two guards on the far side patrolling the main gate of the estate. His mind itched to know who the stranger was. He might not be able to overhear the conversation he and the speaker were having, but maybe he could get a closer look at the skiff. It was no ordinary person’s skiff. It had a military look about it, a minimalistic design with a deadly purpose. A closer look could reveal volumes.
Clinging to the vine, David waited a few more seconds until the evening fog billowed along the ground on the opposite side of the wall. Then he lifted himself onto the crest, squeezed between the iron frills, and dropped into the fog with a thud. It was a bit farther down than he’d anticipated and his breath rushed out in a hiss. Peeking between some succulent bushes with yellow fruit, he spied the guards. One of them looked toward David’s hiding place, but after a moment he returned to the conversation with his fellow. From there David crawled on his hands and knees across a bed of turquoise moonflowers. He held his breath, knowing that the flowers’ lusty scent was a powerful sedative. Who puts moonflowers in their garden? The guards rambled on in the background as David squeezed under benches and caught different articles of clothing in a whole variety of thorny bushes, all the while keeping below the level of the fog. He had almost reached the patio and the curious airship, crawling around one last manicured hedge, when he came nose to nose with an enorm
ous voxil hound. David held his breath, waiting for the inevitable, but the dog did nothing but twitch its nose in the air and give him a bored look. After a moment David’s head throbbed, reminding him to breathe. He let out his air with a rush right into the dog’s face. It sneezed twice before it looked at him again. Then its tail started wagging.
David realized that this was not a guard dog—much the opposite. Everything about the dog drooped: droopy eyes, droopy jowls, and droopy ears. David tried to crawl past it, but the beast was almost as big as he was. It crouched on its front legs and nuzzled him back into the bush. David shoved the animal aside, but it shoved him back like some strange game. There was only one thing for it. David lay on his belly and slid through the grass toward the patio as the dog nuzzled his side. But once he reached the steps, the enormous beast stepped on his back, pinning him to the ground as it licked his neck. David grunted beneath the monstrous paw and tried to crawl up the stairs, but the hound must have weighed ninety kilos. Finally the animal sat up and ran toward the gardens on the other side of the patio.
David looked around to make sure no one had spotted him while he frolicked in the grass, but the guards were still engrossed in their chat and everything else about the estate looked quiet. David scrambled up the patio steps, keeping the airship between him and the guards. The only risk was the main door, as it was directly behind him. Hopefully nobody in the house planned on an evening stroll that night. David crept up to the airship, growing more fascinated the closer he got. Chain-guns poked out of the front of the pontoons, confirming David’s suspicion about it being a military vessel. But something else about the pontoons puzzled him as he rubbed a hand along their surface. Small, sterling-sized bumps pocked the entire surface of each. David wanted a closer look, but time was not his ally, so he moved on to the airship’s fuselage, which bridged between the pontoons. It was tiny, barely big enough for a man. Certainly not big enough for a burner … and that’s when the whole conundrum clicked in his mind. He knew exactly what this ship was.
A few cycles back the Armstad military had experimented with the idea of electronically regulated balloons, eliminating the necessity of a burner. Rather than heat the gas within the balloons, the Armstad scientists floated particulates within the gas and affixed diodes around the balloons. With the flick of a switch the pilot could electronically manipulate the lift of his balloon, eliminating any delay and allowing the ship to fly in near silence. No wonder he hadn’t spotted it until it was only a few fathoms above his head. The question being: Why was an experimental Armstad stealth vessel sitting on Speaker Walker’s patio? The visitor had to be Armstadi as well.
And that’s when David had another terrible idea, the stupidest one in his whole life. He looked down the path where the speaker and the Armstad stranger had disappeared. He fidgeted for a moment as he considered the foolish thing he wanted to do. There really wasn’t any choice here. This was no social call, and he needed answers, but as he turned toward the path around the mansion, he almost fell on his head when he stepped on something round and squishy. That same dumb voxil hound had apparently brought its ball out and sat patiently while he inspected the airship. David groaned and stepped around the dog even as it looked at him with large droopy eyes. Then it whimpered. David jumped back behind the airship and peeked through the windscreen at the guards on the far end of the estate. He sighed in relief and rested his head against the ship. The men hadn’t stirred. He whirled around and glared at the dog, but when it cowered beneath his stare, he lost his resolve.
He picked up the ball, to the apparent delight of the dog, and tossed it in the opposite direction of the speaker and the Armstad visitor. The dog ran after the ball and disappeared into the hedge maze. As the guards looked at the bounding dog, David slipped out from behind the airship and slunk around the side of the mansion. He avoided any landscape lighting, clinging to the shadows as much as they clung to him. He had been halfway around the mansion when he heard voices up ahead. He dropped to his hands and knees and crawled through a flower bed along the side of the house, fog wisping around each of his movements. When he’d reached the edge of the flower bed, he stood up and leaned against the stone wall of the house, straining to hear the conversation between Speaker Walker and the stranger.
And that’s where he found himself now, pondering how he’d gotten here and wondering if he’d ever done anything so stupid in his entire life. He had to ask himself why he did these things? Why did he have to go above and beyond the job description every single time? When would he learn to just do what he was asked and nothing more?
He slowed his breathing and tried to bring his mind back to the present. It was a little late to be scolding himself. That could wait until after he’d safely left the estate. He was only twenty feet away now, and he could just make out what they were saying. The stranger spoke with clipped syllables, a telltale sign of an Armstadi accent.
“… and the census?” the stranger said. “What result?”
“We have some people working behind the scenes,” came the speaker’s voice, “but I am becoming increasingly concerned that power will shift in the next term.”
“Your district, it is the most populated, no?”
“Yes, but something is stirring among the districts. A previously unknown representative named Blythe hijacked one of our companies using an old method we didn’t foresee.”
“This is not good. We do not need any more wasted time. We need results.”
“It’s not so bad. We need only wait a census, maybe two, before the population will shift back to my district. Blythe’s policies are too unstable. His popularity will crumble the moment his funds run out.”
“The situation is not what you think. We do not have one census to wait. Our timetable has accelerated.”
David heard a rustle of clothing, and he peeked around the corner to see the Armstad man pull a letter from his coat pocket and hand it to the speaker.
“We intercept letter last week from the Berg czar to the Viörn emperor. There is to be union by marriage.”
“A union? Who?” Speaker Walker looked shocked as he tore the letter open and scanned its contents. “The Berg prince and the Viörn princess. But this means—”
The stranger nodded. “Yes. It means the countries officially close hostilities between each other. But not between us, we suspect.”
“No. One does tend to hold a grudge after you demolish their armadas in a single engagement. When’s the marriage?”
“That we still don’t know. Soon.”
“What about their warships? Any change?”
“They still mass-produce. Berg is stocking airship at a mountain village called Serov. It’s along Rorand Mountains. We have lost track of the Viörn fleet. Our spies say they spread out.”
“So Berg masses in the north and Viörn in the south, and this marriage means they don’t intend to fight each other.”
“You see my point, I think. We don’t have time to waste.”
“No, we don’t. … Damn you, Blythe! You had to have your moment in the sun right before a storm.”
“You want I should kill him?”
“No. I don’t think we’ve reached that point yet.”
“You haven’t reached point. My people are buffer between you and combined forces of two realms. I reach point already.”
“The moment we start assassinating our own is the moment when the Alönian political system fails. Who would be left to help you after we finished our own civil war? Corvin, you must give me time.”
The Armstadi nodded. “How much you need?”
“All of it.”
The stranger, Corvin, sniffed at that. “Just remember, when guns start firing, my brothers and sisters and cousins will be spilling blood so you can work out your petty power struggles.”
“Do you think I don’t know that? I’m doing my best, but we are not the same Houselands that we were sixty cycles ago. Last time we fought the war on principle, and we won it on
cunning. This time when the call comes, I’m not sure we will have what it takes to answer. We don’t have an Admiral Ike, and our armada is weak.”
“How about tunnel? When will it be completed?”
“Impossible to say. Nobody knows how to drill a tunnel better than our friends in the north, but they don’t exactly maintain progress reports.”
David patted down his beggar rags, searching for the notepad and pencil he’d brought along. He found it and was scribbling down the pertinent information as fast as he could when he felt a nudge in his side. He raised his hands and turned very slowly, expecting to see a guard with a pistol pressed against his side. What he found was the same droopy-eyed voxil hound sitting on its haunches and nuzzling him, ball in mouth. David dropped his hands and breathed a quiet sigh, holding his chest as his heart pounded. He peeked one eye around the corner at the speaker and his guest just as the blasted hound whimpered. In the middle of exchanging good-byes, the pair looked his way. Corvin whipped out a pair of gas-pistols so fast that David could have sworn they were attached to his hands. David’s mind worked furiously as he slowly pulled the side of his face back into the shadows, something made difficult as the dog continued to nudge his side with the ball. Then he had a thought. He plucked the ball from the dog’s mouth and tossed it into the neighboring bush. He heard Corvin leap over a hedge and take up a gunning stance on the other side of the corner where David hid. The droopy dog bounded after the ball, climbing through the bushes in hot pursuit. David stood as still as possible. He could hear Corvin breathing on the other side of the wall.
“Not to worry, Corvin,” the speaker called out. “It’s just Rupert.”
David heard Corvin holster his pistols, and he took the opportunity to crouch down behind some bushes. Not a second later Corvin rounded the corner of the house and stepped in front of the bushes where David crouched.