When my gaze fell upon William, I choked and had to cover my rudeness with a fist over my mouth. He was a smallish man, awkwardly handsome with dusty blond hair. He looked like the sort of man who rose far above his birth through dogged determinism. I'd met many of his like in the Academy of Science, and it'd been a joy helping each one accomplish their goals. But I'd also seen his face before, in the dream where he was dead upon the frozen plains, partially covered in blood-pink snow.
That future loomed like a great wall in my mind. Before, the prophecies seemed like a tangle of possibilities, probability unfolding infinitely. I would receive hints and glimpses, nudges, knowing their source and that they sought to influence me. Now, all roads led to death in the snow, or at least I could not see beyond that time-nexus.
"Welcome to Philadelphia," I said upon recovering.
"It's my honor, Princess Dashkova," said William in a thick English accent.
"No need for titles here, I've given up that life," I said.
Ben chuckled, though his gaze told me he'd noticed my moment of recognition.
"I tried to tell him that," said Ben with a wink, "but you know the English with their monarchies."
William, who looked barely in his early twenties, blushed and looked at his feet. "Apologies, Lady...Madam Dashkova."
By age alone, I couldn't imagine how this youngster would compete with Nasrine.
"Just Katerina will do," I said, giving him a warm smile.
"William," said Ben, "Could you run down to the Thornveld and fetch the others? With Morwen and Kat returned, we should be leaving soon. We're well behind schedule."
William nodded and left, moving deeper into the house.
"Isn't he a little young to have accomplished anything?" I asked.
Ben gave me a strange look. "How old were you when you put Catherine on the throne?"
"Hrmph. Well, has he accomplished anything of note?"
Ben cocked a smile. "His ideas on electricity are quite remarkable. He only needs resources to test them. I figure this is as good a place as any. He and Nasrine can stay behind with Djata in the Thornveld."
"You're worried that England will fall to the Russians," I said.
He nodded soberly. "I've been writing letters to everyone to convince them to come to America."
"How fares your efforts?" I asked.
"The French are stubborn and refuse to leave their monuments, the Ottomans think they can keep the shield back with electricity, and the English put faith in the Channel," he said. "At least Kant and Rousseau have had the good sense to relocate to England, keeping an airship on retainer in case they need to flee at a moment's notice. We can't lose any more in the Society."
"Thus the youngster," I said. "I'm not sure how you think we could possibly choose him over Nasrine for the Society. She's brilliant, experienced, and has progressed with her designs in the Thornveld. I assume she's furthered her work while I was gone."
"Then it's decided," said Ben.
I raised an eyebrow. "Decided? Am I the final vote?"
He nodded. "The others are split. It was Kant and Rousseau who suggested William for membership. They seem to think highly of him."
"Well then," I said with a sigh. "I suppose I shall give him a chance. It would not be fair to make a decision without the proper understanding."
Ben nodded in agreement.
"So how long were we gone?" I asked.
"It's April second," he said.
"The second? By the blazes, what a mess. The whole trip only took a week, not two months. I've gone and missed my birthday as well, or did I? Not sure how that works since I only experienced a week of time, while you had two months."
Ben's eyes creased at the corners, part mirth, part curiosity. "You've seen our new friend William before, haven't you? Was it prophecy?"
"Oh yes, I'd almost forgotten. Was it that obvious?" I asked.
"Anything to worry about?" he asked.
The image of Ben, and the others, including this William, scattered across the snowy plains like bloody rag dolls came to mind. I forced myself to smile.
"Nothing to worry about yet," I lied. "Which is another way of saying I don't know what it means."
There was no reason to concern Ben about the prophecy, especially when I already had an idea on how I could thwart it. Ben nodded as he tossed the fruit from hand to hand.
"What are you going to do with that?" I asked.
Ben held it up before my eye. "Contained within this fruit is the seed of every plant and tree in existence, from this and every other universe."
"How is that even possible?" I asked.
"The fruit will only give us the seeds that we need, leaving nothing to waste," he explained.
"Is that how you make the life-extending powder?" I asked.
"Very perceptive of you," he said. "Besides helping us with our larger problem, this will extend our stores and thus extend our immortality."
"You're being cagey," I said, scowling.
"Let me say simply that the seeds will possibly help us reach Russia in a timely manner. So now, I will beg your leave and put forth my vigor towards the appropriate alchemical efforts. We leave at dawn."
I rolled my eyes at his superfluous wording. He went towards the back of the estate, while I made my way to my quarters in the other wing. A good bath and a proper meal would put me to rights so I could prepare for the next journey in earnest.
The door to my room was slightly open. I'd left my muddy boots in the foyer and treaded on bare feet. Someone was inside riffling through my things, opening my notebooks, and paging through the books of myth stacked on the table.
After a moment of consideration, I went down the hallway, the other way, and opened another door so it banged against the wall. Then went back towards my room.
Nasrine Topaz was seated on the bed, legs crossed so a calf stuck out seductively from her caftan robe. Her pale blue eyes flickered down to my bare feet, then she gave me an inviting smile.
"I thought you would never return," she said, standing up suddenly, her short black hair dancing around her face. Against the contrast of her olive skin, the color of her eyes was like the frozen lakes of Siberia that only melted for a few short months a year.
I smiled in response, keeping silent.
Nasrine reached out and stroked my arm. The sweet scent of her hair made me a little delirious. "You look like you could use a bath. I saw the sweet shop return and wanted to greet you properly, but it seems I should have drawn a bath first. Let me do that for you."
At first, I'd planned on confronting Nasrine about digging through my things, but her easy lies suggested this was more than curiosity. If she was going to be a new member of the Transcendent Society, I had to find out if she had other agendas.
It also occurred to me that she was a beautiful woman and that I was allowing myself to be swayed. Maybe it was my lack of sleep, but I nodded and let her take control.
While Nasrine hurried to the bathing room and started heating water, I rubbed the meat of my palm. The aching just wouldn't go away. Only pressing on the flesh firmly gave any respite, however trivial.
After a time, Nasrine returned and helped me undress for the bath. I slipped into the brass tub, letting the hot water seep into my muscles.
Nasrine took position on a stool, oddly still. I could see the gears and levers moving furiously beneath her pale eyes.
"Was your trip successful?" she asked in a pleasant tone.
I captured the baleen brush that had sunk to the bottom of the tub and scrubbed my legs beneath the water.
"In as much as it could be," I said, feigning interest in a patch of grime on my knee. "How are your experiments in the Thornveld?"
"We have a working prototype, but no way to test it easily," she said. "Once we can make it small enough to carry on a fast airship, we're going to fly it over and test it against the shield."
For some reason, it worried me that she would be alone in the Thornve
ld with Djata, blind Voltaire, and Brassy. If she was a spy for the Ottomans, or someone else, it would be the perfect time to strike.
"What if we brought it in the hut? We could make a quick hop to the shield and test it," I suggested.
She hesitated, disagreement poised on her lips, but then she caught herself and said, "That would seem quite logical." Her brow furrowed. "I'm not sure why we didn't think of that before. There is enough time?"
"We'll have to make time if your solution can get us through the shield," I said.
"Wonderful," she said with a smile. "I'm glad we had this talk."
Nasrine had been focusing her attention on me, but with the change in plans, she seemed distracted. Better to keep her off balance so I might determine her motives.
"Why did you agree to come to America? And the Society?" I asked. "From what I hear, you were a successful inventor in your country."
Nasrine lifted her chin and glanced away. "I suspect for the same reasons as yourself. Benjamin Franklin is a persuasive man, and how could I say no to such high ideals?"
"Which ideals?" I pressed. "Ben is a man of many."
Her face tightened for a moment, a flush of annoyance, but she corralled her expression and fixed her gaze on me. "I believe in the ideals of the scientific. Only through our better understanding of the world can we rise above barbarism. Technology makes us masters of our world."
"Technology can also make one man master over another. Science without philosophy makes one blind to repercussions," I replied.
"Men and women of logic can do much better than the imperialistic powers who claim the divine as their inspiration," she said abruptly.
"I don't disagree," I said, "but science alone cannot save us from barbarism. In fact, I see science like any other power or money—it only brings out what is already there. A madman with a fleet of airships is still a madman. Science may help us dispel the myths that plague our thoughts, but it cannot help us rule ourselves."
"How does magic fall into this world of yours?" she asked, eyes blazing with thought.
Caution tempered my words. "I don't know. Maybe it is like technology, or power, or gold. It only makes us more of what we already are. Which leads me back to what I asked in the first place. Why did you come?"
Nasrine grimaced. It did not mar her beauty, only made her more desirable as it revealed some deep seated pain, but I quickly forgot it, when in one smooth motion she stood and released the belt around her waist. The robe fell effortlessly from her shoulders and she climbed naked into the tub, our combined presence spilling water onto the tiled floor.
My protests were quickly silenced when she leaned forward and kissed me. Though I knew this was a ploy to silence my questions, I did not resist and gathered her into my arms, letting our desires carry us away.
Chapter Six
In the morning, Nasrine left my bed. I lay awake for a while thinking about the fact that Catherine was alive and that I might chance to see her when we reached Russia. I had no doubts that Matka was telling the truth.
But the others I'd encountered, why hadn't they told me? Had they kept the knowledge of her existence secret so she could ambush me with our previous relationship, thus securing my allegiance to Russia? Or was there some other reason?
Would things be the same? I doubted it. She no longer ruled Russia. I wasn't even sure how she was alive. The doppelganger had admitted assassinating her and usurping her place. Her death marked the country's shift back towards imperialism. Had she been alive and in power at that time, she wouldn't have allowed the nobility to wrest back control.
But I had more important things to worry about. I went straight to the Thornveld once I was dressed. Brassy had been staying with Djata in the house the galmi had built for him so he didn't have to make the difficult journey with his wheelchair each night and morning.
The handsome African scientist was busy in the workshop, preparing the prototype for transportation. Ben and the others had agreed that they should make a special trip to test the device before setting off on the real journey. If we were lucky, the test would make the longer journey unnecessary.
After greeting the former bawdy girl, I got straight to the point.
"I don't want you coming on this trip."
Brassy's lips wrinkled. "But...why? You've been makin' these amazing journeys. I wanted to come along and see for myself what everyone's been sayin'."
That her accent had returned to its country diction made me warm inside. It was as sure a sign as any that she was feeling safe in the Thornveld with Djata. Another reason to keep her that way.
"I have my reasons," I said, trying not to flinch when the memory of her dead body returned. "It's too dangerous."
"But you're just goin' there and back? Can't I come with you?" she asked. "You're only gonna be gone a day. Surely I can come along for just that."
It sounded reasonable, except I knew how prophecies worked. It was best if the circumstances leading to her death in the snow were never allowed to happen. If Brassy was never in the hut, she and the others couldn't die. I'd been able to bend the plague of monsters to our needs; I had to do the same for this vision. Brassy could not come, no matter what.
I took her hand in mine, patting it softly. My skin was pale against her light olive tones. "It is too dangerous, even this short trip. I cannot explain why, but know that it is important you stay here, with Djata."
Brassy's face sagged with disappointment. She nodded slowly like a child being told the candy store had left town.
With that settled, I returned to the estate and gathered my things, stuffing my travel sacks with as many options as possible. Once we'd tested the device and returned to Philadelphia, we would set off immediately. There'd be no time to pack again, so I had to take everything I thought I might need. Thankfully, the hut had room to spare.
The hut greeted me with a new room upon arrival. Never-ending tales could be told about the many rooms of the hut, each one never hinting at the last.
Though I had come in the front door, it appeared I'd entered from the back of a pilot room in a gondola. The far wall was covered in windows, but the view was less than exciting. Outside, a horse-drawn carriage silently ambled past.
"What wonder is this?" I muttered aloud, barely comprehending the rest of the room.
"I thought you might enjoy a view since we'll be traveling for quite some time," said Morwen.
Her resplendent blond tresses fell upon the lapel of her open dark gray airman's jacket, revealing a crimson corset tight enough to strangle a child. I did not question the practicality of her outfit, since she'd once tried to swallow me whole.
"You've added touches for each of us," I said, glancing around the room. "Thank you, Madam Hightower."
Her eyes twinkled with amusement. "I appreciate that you noticed.
"How did you manage such a feat? Do you have rooms hidden away for every occasion? But I somehow doubt that. When in the past have you needed a room with an airship window and a sultan's lounging area, with touches of a French brothel and an English tea parlor? And I haven't the faintest idea of what those ancient looking paintings are meant to represent, let alone why they're all in the same room," I said.
"I am the Mistress of the Hut. It provides what I want, and this is what I wanted. Each of your rooms is tailored to your needs. Nothing ruins travel more than the feeling of being away from home, so I've made the proper adjustments," she explained.
"So the hut has a certain number of rooms, each one you can customize?" I asked, curious to the magic of the place.
"Not exactly. The hut has more rooms than all the palaces of Europe. Some I cannot access because they were placed in the hut by one of the others," she said.
"So you can control the rooms we have access to?" I asked, thinking about the battle with Neva and how I had been able to release the Star Eater.
This question troubled Morwen, who wrestled with the question before giving me what seemed like an honest answ
er.
"Not exactly. The hut is linked to the three of us, and sometimes the other two influence its workings, and other times it seems the hut reveals our deeper desires." Morwen blushed from a distant memory. "Nothing truly surprises me anymore."
"Are we safe in the hut?" I asked.
"Never truly, though I can promise you that as long as you stay in the rooms I've provided or this one here, no harm shall come to you," she said.
"Why do you not have a guardian like the other two?" I asked suddenly, regretting my imposition as soon as the words left my lips.
A swift agony passed across her face, then disappeared beneath a hard mask. "I have my reasons. None that I shall discuss with you." She went quiet for a moment. "Let me show you to your room. The others will arrive shortly. I want to leave as soon as we can."
"I as well. Lead and I shall follow," I said.
Before Morwen left, she gave me a glance that said she didn't believe my statement, bringing to mind the way she'd treated me on the journey across Gallasid.
Whatever ills she harbored against me did not register against the room she'd set aside for my stay. If Morwen had plucked the idea out of my head, it wouldn't have been half as nice. The size alone would have made a queen jealous. Gossamer netting hung over a battleship-sized bed, while hand-painted partitions detailing famous scenes from Russian history set aside more intimate spaces. In the back, a brass tub that would easily fit four sat on sunken tiles.
"Did you conjure this from my head?" I asked, but the door slammed behind me, leaving me confused and suddenly suspicious of the arrangement. She'd treated me coldly before. Was this an olive branch, or was she trying to blunt my suspicions?
I pressed my fingertips against the bridge of my nose. Was I being paranoid? Or merely cautious?
As I circled the room, I found more treasures: gold-embossed leather encyclopedias of myth, a wooden fencing dummy, a wooden Bohea tea box filled heaping full, even a rack of aged Bordeaux. No, Morwen had not created this room. She didn't know me well enough. It had to be Rowan's influence. As Morwen had said, the others could change the rooms. But what did that mean that Rowan was helping me from her spectral grave? I wondered if I could find the room again in which she was sequestered. Content that I would travel comfortably, I left my travel sack on the bed and returned to the main room.
The Queen of Dreams (The Dashkova Memoirs Book 6) Page 4
