“You’ll be fine,” she said again.
I said furiously, “No, I won’t. You don’t have to pretend anymore. I know the truth. I know you are not my real mother. I know who my real mother is. I know why the Birdies want me.”
As soon as the words were said, I regretted them. But it was too late to take them back.
Buck stared at me, her face as white as her shirt. Without a word, she stood up and, cradling Pow against her shoulder, locked the door. She cranked the transom down, closed and locked the office window, and snapped the shutters shut.
She turned back to me and said very quietly, “How did you find out?”
“Lord Axacaya told me,” I mumbled.
“Axacaya knows? Ah, fike. Fike. FIKE!” The last was a furious whisper. I had never heard Buck swear before, and although it was stupid to feel shock, I did. She collapsed into the nursing chair, clutching Pow.
“Then it is a trap. It is a trap. Ah, fike. Why didn’t I kill him when I had the chance? Oh, blessed Califa. Shite. Fike. Piss.” Buck closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. “How long have you known?”
“A few months.” I was glad she hadn’t asked me why Axacaya had told me or why I had been talking to him in the first place. “You lied to me! All these years you’ve lied to me!”
“To save your life, Flora.”
“You owe me the truth!”
Buck sighed heavily “I suppose I do.”
But she didn’t say anything else. She just sat there, twiddling one of Pow’s ensocked feet. I twisted my fingers tightly The silence grew longer and emptier, and then, just as I was thinking she wasn’t going to say anything at all, she spoke. “The Birdies are not monumental in their philosophy, you know, Flora. There were some who were opposed to the War, and some who were opposed to breaking treaties, and, some who were sympathetic to the Califan cause. Anyway, through various machinations, which don’t much matter now, your mother and Sorrel—”
“Udo’s father.”
“Ayah, Udo’s father. They escaped.”
“What about Poppy and Flora Primera?”
“Hotspur was being held in another part of the City. Flora was already gone. Your mother hoped that once she and Sorrel were free, they’d figure out how to rescue Hotspur, they’d find Flora. But before any of that could happen, she realized she was pregnant with you. The Birdies were on their track. She didn’t want them to catch you, too. So we came up with a plan: We’d keep the Birdies at bay until you were born and could be whisked away, far from Birdie discovery Then, she’d allow herself to be captured. The Birdies would be satisfied and would never know there were any other Haðraaðas left. You’d be safe from them. As soon as you were born, she gave you to someone who brought you to me. Then she and Sorrel gave up.”
“But you weren’t even pregnant. Why would anyone believe I was your baby?”
“It was winter; coats were more voluminous back then. I was in the middle of a campaign—I told the press I hadn’t wanted to distract from the campaign, so I had kept the pregnancy under wraps. They swallowed the story whole. The only hitch was Valefor. He would know, of course, that you were not a full Fyrdraaca. I wasn’t sure if he would accept you, so I abrogated him.”
Poor Valefor, the denizen of Crackpot Hall, banished through no fault of his own. When he found out I was the cause, he was going to be pretty fiking pissed at me, and I couldn’t say that I blamed him one bit.
“But why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“It’s a hard thing to pretend to be someone you are not. I thought it would be safer for you both if you didn’t have to fake it.”
“Poppy deserved to know, too.”
“I know. I know.” She sighed heavily “But Hotspur was in such bad shape when he got back, I didn’t want to burden him further. I thought I should wait for a good time, but that good time never came.” She paused and then asked warily, “Did you tell him?”
She saw the answer on my face. “Oh, pigface. Was he pissed?”
“He wasn’t very happy.”
“I’m sorry, Flora. I should have told you before. I should have told you both.”
In my imagining of this scene, I was always full of righteous fury Sometimes Buck was defiant and accusing— I took you in and saved your life and now you give me shite? Sometimes she was high-hatted— I am the head of this family and know what is best; do you dare to question me? In my daydreams, none of these attitudes dimmed my righteous fury, only sparked it. Now I found that my righteous fury was not standing very furiously in the face of Buck’s explanation. In fact, it was dying down into a giant sick-making guilt. What did I have to be angry about? Buck had saved my life.
She continued, “But I hope you don’t believe that this means I do not love you as much as if you came from my own body I could not love you any more if you had. You are the child of my heart, Flora. I know it’s been hard on you, and I have been so severe, but that’s why; I didn’t want you to bring attention to yourself. I didn’t want you to do anything that would make the Birdies suspicious. I’m sorry”
Now I was crying, and feeling like a complete pigheaded jackass. To my horror, I realized that Buck was crying, too. This sight knifed me to my very core. I had never seen Buck cry over anything before—not Poppy at his worst, not when Idden ran away, not when Bronzer, her favorite stallion, had to be put down when the infection in his knee wouldn’t heal. She wiped her nose on her sleeve.
“I’m sorry, Flora. I’m truly sorry.”
“It’s all right, Mamma,” I answered, sniffily. Should I tell her I knew that Tiny Doom was still alive? She must not know; if she did, she would tell me now. But I didn’t tell her. A nasty little demon inside of me said, Don’t do it. She didn’t trust you. Return her favor.
“I don’t want to hide from the Birdies forever,” I said instead.
“You won’t, I promise you. You won’t have to. Besides your father, did you tell anyone else about all this?”
“Udo,” I admitted.
“I think we can trust Udo.”
“And Idden knows, too.”
“Califa, why didn’t you take out an advert in the CPG?” Buck said in exasperation. I guess our tender little moment was over. “Don’t tell anyone else, all right? Let’s keep it—”
A knock at the door interrupted her. She hollered, “Come back later!”
“I’m sorry, General, but it’s important,” Sergeant Carheña answered.
“Come back later, Sergeant!”
“Very, very important.”
“Hold your thoughts, Flora. We are not done. Open the door.”
I got up and unlocked the door. Sergeant Carheña held a piece of paper in his hand. He looked upset and worried.
“What is it, Sergeant?” Buck said impatiently. “I’m really not in the mood—”
“A courier just brought a dispatch from Saeta House. The Warlord’s Delight was waylaid by the pirate ship Nada yesterday afternoon. Everyone was taken prisoner and the Delight impounded. The Warlord just got a ransom demand for the Infantina. He asks that you attend upon him immediately, sir.”
“Give me the dispatch,” Buck ordered, and Sergeant Carheña handed it over. She tore it open, began to read.
“Udo!” I cried. “He was on that ship, too! What about Udo?”
Pow stirred, and Buck looked up from the note. “Shush—lower your voice. There’s no mention of Udo, Flora. But I’m sure he’s fine. No one will pay for damaged goods. The pirates are usually careful about how they treat their prisoners.”
“What about the Happy Rabbit? The Nada keelhauled all its passengers.” No one seemed to know who the pirates of the Nada were, but their treatment of the crews they captured made the Dainty Pirate and his sailors seem flamboyantly harmless in comparison.
“Only when the ransom wasn’t paid. This ransom will be paid, no fear.”
“Udo’s family can’t afford a ransom!”
“But I can, Flora,” Buck said soothi
ngly “It’s just a business transaction with them. Money for prisoners. Trust me, it will be fine. Sergeant, call for my carriage and send a courier telling the Warlord I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
Sergeant Carheña saluted and exited. Buck handed Pow to me and I took him, feeling sick—and guilty. Hadn’t I kind of wished that maybe pirates would get them? Surely my wish had nothing to do with the pirates actually getting them, but still, I felt terribly bad now.
Buck pulled her boots back on and buttoned up her frock coat. “Don’t worry, Flora. I promise you, Udo will be fine. I’ve got to get down to the Warlord. You’re dismissed for the day. Go home and pack. You’ll travel south on the Pato de Oro. It leaves with the tide tomorrow morning. We’ll finish our talk when you return.”
Return? Did Buck still expect me to go to Cuilihuacan? “But I thought you said it was a trap! How can I still go if it’s a trap?”
“It would be awfully suspicious if I yanked you now. I’ll think of something, don’t worry Here, I’ll take Pow with me.”
I lay Pow on his cradleboard. My hands were shaking so hard, I could barely get it laced up. “But what will I do? They’ll kill me!” I said in a very wobbly voice.
“Trust me,” Buck said firmly. “I’m not going to let that happen.”
“But you won’t be there!” I cried.
There was a tap-tap-tapping on the office door, and Sergeant Carheña’s voice said, “The carriage is ready, General.”
“I have to go. Trust me, Flora. You and Udo both will be just fine. I promise.” And with those hollow words, Buck picked up Pow’s cradleboard and rushed out the door, leaving her hat, coat, gloves, and the Command Baton behind.
My knees gave out; I was about to start bawling, although with fear or anger, I wasn’t sure. I sat down on the settee and buried my face in my hands. I was as good as dead.
And Buck didn’t seem to care.
EIGHT
Departure. Chickens. The Oro Gate.
THE EMBARCADERO WAS a madhouse. The steamer from Porkopolis had been sighted off Land’s End, and hordes of people had descended upon the waterfront, eager for their mail and freight. I hoped that the crowds would delay us and I’d be too late, but alas, no such luck. Buck sent her outriders ahead to clear the way and I made it to El Pato de Oro’s berth just in time. The Warlord had decided to keep the news of the Zu-Zu’s capture under wraps for the time being, so the mood on the docks was bright.
I was bleary-eyed and exhausted. I’d hardly slept a wink the night before. After Buck left, I’d gone in search of Poppy. Surely he could talk some sense into her. At the COQ his striker told me that he’d gone into the City; I left a message for him to come to my quarters as soon as he returned, and then went to pack. Poppy never showed. When I finished packing, I took the last horsecar into the City and went to the Palace Hotel. But Sieur Wraathmyr still hadn’t returned, and thus my last chance to get my map was gone.
Not that knowing where Tiny Doom was would matter much to me after I was dead.
I had then considered fleeing to my true family home. No one could get to me at Bilskinir House; Paimon could protect me forever. But I’d be trapped, unable to ever leave the House for fear of Birdie capture, and I would have exposed myself to the world as a Haðraaða, which in turn would expose Buck’s deception. She and Poppy would be at the Birdies’ mercy Despite Buck’s perfidy, I couldn’t leave her and Poppy—and Pow—in the lurch like that.
The rest of the night, I had paced my room, alternating between visions of Udo being tortured by pirates, and me being sacrificed by the Birdies. And, of course, my brain now boiled over with new questions: Why had Major Sorrel, Udo’s father, gone back to Birdieland with Tiny Doom, gone back to his own death? How had Tiny Doom gotten word to Buck that she had escaped? Who had delivered me to Buck? How had Tiny Doom escaped in the first place? I would probably never know now.
At dawn, a buckboard wagon had appeared at the front door of the UOQ to haul my trunk away. A few minutes later, Buck and Poppy had showed up in her carriage to pick me up. If Poppy had tried to talk any sense into Buck, he had failed, yet he was strangely cheerful about the whole thing. Maybe I had overestimated how much he cared as well.
The captain of El Pato, Captain Ziyi, was a tall solemn-looking man in a black frock coat and a wide-awake hat, his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunshades, his skin tanned to leather by years of salt spray and sun. He met us at the foot of the gangplank, after we had forced our way through the throngs waiting before the steamer slip. He didn’t look particularly thrilled to have me onboard, but he was gracious and accepted my introduction and Buck’s thanks with a slight nod. Then he strode off to do whatever it is that captains do before their ships set sail.
While the stevedore lugged my boxes onto El Pato, Poppy and Buck peppered me with advice: Expect poison from standing water; always shine my boots right before bed; keep my saber close at hand; never pass up a chance to potty; don’t camp in a wash; keep the chamber under the hammer empty; never share towels, et cetera, et cetera.
Only Pow was advice-free. When I kissed him goodbye, he gurgled and blew a giant milk bubble that I managed to deflect with a burp cloth before it ruined my nice clean frock coat. Then he tried to claw my nose off. Poppy removed him from my arms before he could do any more damage. I had to admit that I would miss the little monster. When he looked at you with those big green amazed eyes, it was hard not to be sweet on him. If I never returned, he would not remember me. This thought panged me greatly.
“Are you sure you have everything, Flora?” Poppy asked. The wind tousled his hair, whipped the tails of his frock coat. Before we’d left the UOQ he had given me his own hat to replace the one that I had lost at the Zu-Zu’s birthday party It was a bit too big, but he had stuffed some paper in the crown, just enough to make it fit. Still, I kept a firm grip on its brim.
“I don’t see how she could have forgotten a thing,” Buck said. “She’s got enough luggage for six people. And she’s only going to be gone a week.”
“You are a fine one to talk, Buck,” Poppy said. “It took a string of mules to haul your campaign gear around.”
“I have a reputation to uphold.” She smiled at him. He smiled back and then called to Flynn, who was leaning dangerously over the edge of the dock, barking crazily at the sea lions nosing around the underside of the pier.
Buck said jovially, “The portmaster says you should have clear weather. That’s good—I know you can’t stand rough water. Remember that time we took the ferry to Dogtown and you were sick the whole way—”
“I’ll be fine,” I said hastily. I was not a child anymore and I was not going to get seasick. The bottle of Madama Twanky’s Salty Dog Sea Leg Tonick in my trunk would ensure that. Anyway, it seemed silly for her to be worried that I might get seasick when she was sending me to certain death.
“Go up top, on deck, and stare at the horizon, Flora—” A shrill blast interrupted Poppy and inspired Pow to howl. He was almost louder than the whistle.
The purser was waving frantically at me, and two sailors stood by the gangplank, ready to swing it back. I hastily kissed the howling red-faced Tiny Man, who quit his howling and grabbed at my aiguillettes. Disengaging his paws, I turned to salute Buck, who, against regulations, snatched me up into a squeezy hug. I clung to her for a moment, feeling the butt of her revolver press against me, the thump of her heart, the mingled smell of horse and milk, the cold metal of her gorget pressing against my cheek.
She whispered, “I promised her I would never let anything happen to you and I will keep that promise. Trust me.” My throat choked as a thousand thoughts raced through my head, but before I could blurt any of them, my hat fell off and Buck released me.
Poppy swept me up into another hug, murmuring, “Don’t worry, honey. You’ll be fine. Trust your mother. And here’s a stash, just in case.” I took the fat roll of divas and slipped it in my pocket. The whistle blew again. I kissed Tiny Man on his chubby pink chee
ks one last time, and would have kissed Flynn, too, but Snapperdog had disappeared and there was no time to look for him. The first mate was hollering at me; at the prow of the ship they were already cranking up the anchor. Poppy shoved my hat at me and I ran up the gangplank, just as the sailors started to cast aside the lines.
The deck of El Pato was crowded with crates and boxes. I squeezed through them, the schooner’s movement already making me unsteady, and leaned against the railing. We were twenty feet from the dock and moving away quickly Buck had taken Pow from Poppy and was holding him up, pointing at me and waving. They looked like the perfect little family. They would do just fine without me. And if I never returned, well, they still had Pow. They could start over.
Trust me, Buck had said. How could I trust her when she had never trusted me?
And Udo, oh Udo.
The figures on the dock were very small now, dwindling. I turned away, lurching through the crates of lettuce and asparagus piled high on the deck.
I’d never been on a schooner like El Pato de Oro. The ferry to Benica Barracks is large and lumbering, wallowing along at a steady clip to the thump, thump, thump of its paddle wheel and the distant hum of the coal servitors deep within its bowels. El Pato de Oro was a three-masted ship, and she glided lightly through the water. Over my head, sailors scampered from line to line, calling to each other. They seemed completely at home among the rigging, balancing like birds on the lines. After a brief glance, I looked away, feeling queasy at the heights.
From a sailor’s point of view, I guess, it was a good day to be underway The wind was billowing the sails. A thin veil of fog was winding through the Oro Gate and the sky above the City was gray and overcast, but streaks of blue shone above Mt. Tam and beyond Goat Island and the Tiburon peninsula. When the schooner passed Black Point and I knew that the Embarcadero would be out of sight, I went back to the port side. This might be the last time I’d ever see my home. The City looked like a child’s diorama of tiny houses spread out over a series of small hills. The spire on Saeta House gleamed like a small gold needle, and on Crackpot Hill, I could just make out the top of Poppy’s Eyrie tower poking up above the trees.
Flora's Fury: How a Girl of Spirit and a Red Dog Confound Their Friends, Astound Their Enemies, and Learn the Impo Page 7
