by Anna Butler
Günter Reitz gave me a sharp look at the use of his first name, then nodded, reddening over his cheekbones. “Rafe is correct, I fear.”
Ned’s mouth drew into a hard line. His resemblance to his father had never been more marked. “We can’t let them have it.”
I glanced at the open doorway into the pyramid. “If it comes to it, I’m not sure we should let anyone have it.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The discussion became more speculative. We didn’t have enough hard information to allow us to draw any real conclusions. That George had heard something the previous night, and that particular something had sparked off the pyramid’s defences, that Altenfeld was the Kaiser’s agent and was coming with a military force—they were the facts. Putting them all together was suggestive, but not conclusive.
“We have no way of knowing if it was Altenfeld last night—”
“It beggars belief anyone else would be searching around here.” Theo didn’t hesitate to interrupt me.
“Quite.” I kept my tone on the coolish side. “Our working assumption has to be it was him and his men. Agreed?”
A circle of heads nodding like so many of those peculiar porcelain figurines so beloved of old maids—the ones with their heads on a pivot making them bob at every slight vibration.
“They went north. If they too made a hard landing, we must assume some survived.” Damn it, I shouldn’t have left the maps in the Brunel. “We’re on the edge of the Ch’ok’ē Mountains. From what I saw on the way in, the area to the north is broken up into a mishmash of ridges and hills rising towards Mount Ch’ok’ē Terara itself.”
“An inhospitable place, this Roof of Africa.” Günter tapped his pipe against the sole of his shoe to remove the dottle and started refilling it with tobacco ribbons and, I suspected, a touch of the Chinese mafeisan powder. “We were lucky.”
“Not forgetting Rafe is a skilled pilot.” Nell had rather a martial light in her eye.
How touching to be championed by one’s family like that. “Thank you, Nell. But however skilled I may be, I wouldn’t want to land in the broken terrain to the north, particularly in the dark. I wouldn’t want to try it here on the plateau, either, if I couldn’t see what I was doing. A forced landing is dire enough without doing it by touch and feel. They must have been desperate to be in the air that late in the day.”
Ned had his eyes on me throughout the discussion, a queer expression on his face. “If it is Altenfeld, then we might expect a visitation.”
I nodded. “We’d better assign some guards to the northern edge of the plateau to keep watch.”
“I’ll sort that out, sir. The Brunel has a backup store of listening posts. We’ll set them out in a wide cordon around the pyramid.” George looked glumly at Sam. “Not much else we can do with a place this size. Too big an area, too few of us.”
Sam was tight-lipped, his jaw set. Frustration, most likely, that he couldn’t oversee Ned’s safety himself. “With ravines all round it, this plateau’s cut off from the rest of the mountains. George tells me the rivers run fast, form a barrier. The terrain’s against them.”
I didn’t put my trust in geography. “But not impassable. One strong swimmer could get a rope across. Set a guard, and let’s give some thought about what’s going on with this pyramid.”
Ned brightened. “I’ve been working on this chamber since we arrived. As you can see, there’s no door. I walked straight in.”
Reitz moaned. “Your luck is unbelievable, Ned! Anyone else would have to dig for days.”
“My luck is variable. I’ve spent some time trying to decipher its secrets, and I’ve failed. I had hoped this was the entrance, but now I don’t think it can be. I’ve sounded every square inch of the place, and I can’t find any evidence of tunnels or entrances. ’Course, the walls are damn thick, and sounding them is probably futile anyway. It’s damnably frustrating! The wall decoration is magnificent. I recognise some of it—there’s a full-size representation of the story of the Distant Goddess, for instance—but while I’m a fair philologist, I’m stumped by many of the hieroglyphs. I’d wager the Imperium that the secret of how to get into the pyramid is written on those walls. I do wish I’d brought Raoul Archambault!”
“He was my mentor, you recall, Ned,” Günter said, his tone significant.
“I do. You’re almost his equal, and I’m merely competent. I’m glad you’re here, Günni, because now we can make some progress. We’ve got to get in, because this pyramid isn’t like anything I’ve seen before. Or heard of. Or thought of. Not in my wildest imaginings.” Ned shook his head, as though to clear it. “It isn’t constructed in any way like the Saqqara step pyramids. This one is hollow, I think, or at least full of hollow spaces. I’m burning to get all the way inside. It’s like something out of Rider Haggard.” The smile he gave us had a hungry edge. “I’m glad you’re here to help, Günni,” he said again.
Reitz intimated death alone would keep him from the hieroglyphs, and only then if it came with a side order of Ragnarök, the Apocalypse, and being cast into the fiery Pit while the world kindled into ashes around him.
I was a touch less zealous. Or perhaps more practical. “It’s getting dark. First thing tomorrow, I’ll check the Brunel and try to find what this pyramid weapon did to her. If I can start her up, we can call the Gallowglass and order up some reinforcements, maybe enough to get us out by river or overland if we can’t fly out.”
Ned was doubtful. “That’s too long a range for a Marconi. Even if ours hadn’t been damaged when we landed, I hadn’t anticipated being able to use it to call home. I don’t think the Brunel’s range is much better.”
“Your father-in-law loaned us something more powerful. Useful, if I can get out a signal.” I rubbed my right temple. “I’m going to the Brunel for the maps. I want to take a look at the area to the north.”
“I’ll come with you,” Ned said at once.
I swear Sam’s eyes rolled so hard it must have hurt. Disapproval roiled off him. “Mr Edward!”
Ned, however, shook his head and stood up. “It’ll be fine, Sam. George will go with us.”
Tatlock had been quiet and watchful until then. I’d put it down to George Todd’s presence. They’d met during our adventure in Abydos two years earlier when, thanks to Tatlock removing my elder half-brother John, I’d unexpectedly come into the First Heirship. Tatlock hadn’t taken to the way the Gallowglass guards under George’s command had managed the situation, and I suspected he’d resented both being pushed into a supporting role and that I trusted George more than him. George, being a genial sort of chap, affected not to notice, called Tatlock “Bert” to his face—a familiarity I’d never attempted for myself—and generally treated Tatlock as if he were a decent human being.
Anyhow, I might have known Tatlock’s reticence wouldn’t last. He gave me what my nanny used to call A Look, and said, in a tone an unstoppable avalanche might envy for its obduracy, “And me.”
“See?” Ned was rather too blithe for my peace of mind, given our difficult circumstances. “More than enough protection, Sam.”
“Shall I come?” Theo asked.
“No, no! Stay and keep Miss Lancaster company. Rafe and I won’t be long.”
Ha. Wouldn’t we? I’d see about that.
The twilight was a dusky purple shading into a sombre darkness, the colour of the bloom on an overripe damson. It smelled ripe, too, the scent of strange plants and flowers cooling as night swallowed them up. The sun sank, edging the unknown hills and mountains to the west in an orange nimbus. Above us, the countless stars pin-pricked the clear skies, and a cool wind swept in from the northwest to blow itself out on the higher ground to the south. I turned to stare north, where our enemies might be lurking.
The land there rose into the mountains, the Thoth plateau lower in altitude than the surrounding foothills, having been beheaded in its construction, so to speak. The hills slanted up in sharp-angled slopes, cutting off the northern
horizon. All I could see was the zigzag of spiky, serrated ridges, black against the stars, their western edges reflecting the last dying rays of the sun.
The wind was chilly, and Ned must have seen or felt my shivering. “It’s the coolest time of year in this region. Quite dry—not a drop of rain since we got here, and we’ve been clambering down to the river to collect water—but it’s nippy at night.”
“Bloody hot in Khartoum at noon, I can tell you.”
“We’re at about ten thousand feet. The elevation makes all the difference. It’s not called the Roof of Africa because it sounds poetic. It’s much hotter south of the Highlands. Quite tropical.”
Ned tucked his arm through mine, and we picked our way over the rough ground, the two House guards trailing along behind. We walked in a charged silence until we reached the Brunel. At which point we had a short discussion with our escort, along the lines of their company not being needed and we’d be obliged if they would stand guard at the foot of the rope ladder, thank you, gentlemen. George didn’t so much as blink, Gallowglass guards being very well trained. Tatlock took a little more convincing.
I overrode his objections with a brisk “No harm can come to either of us if you’re down here, man. Stay put.”
George shone his brimstone torch on the rope as Ned shinned up it first. I’m quite certain I heard Tatlock’s not-so-sotto-voce grumbling as I followed, but at least the dratted man stayed put.
Ned said nothing as we got into the Brunel. It was black as the Earl o’ Hell’s waistcoat, a place of deep shadow. He unhooked a brimstone from his belt and lit our way in, the yellowish beam sweeping over chairs and scattered bits of luggage.
Still unspeaking, Ned led the way to the other side of the main cabin, away from the portal. Once there, he jammed the torch into the back of a nearby chair, its bulb facing upwards to wash the ceiling in light, then turned and caught hold of me.
This was a new Ned. A demanding, remorseless Ned. He had always been the most considerate and gentle of lovers. Now he fastened himself on me like a leech, his mouth over mine, his tongue searching me out. His kiss stole my breath. God in heaven, a kiss to end all kisses, all heat and passion, fervour and sublime agony, and a pleasure so exquisite the thrills shuddered their way down my spine. Ned was warm and living in my arms, my world focused on his mouth and tongue and that wonderful hardness I felt as we pressed groin on groin.
I pulled back a little and kissed his chin. When he tilted back his head so I could kiss his throat, the light of the brimstone slid across the side of his neck, limning his face with gold and slipping shadows under his cheekbones, glinting in the hairs edging the line of his jaw. There’s a place under his chin I’d always liked to kiss, ever since our first night together in Margrethe’s back in November ’99, when I knew him as Edward Fairfax. I often kissed it in remembrance, a sort of homage to that night and all it gifted me. The kissing spot was half-hid in shadow. I was smiling as I found it with my lips—relief, I expect, from all my anxieties and fears—and felt, rather than heard, Ned’s soft, answering chuckle. I held his face between my hands, planting a line of kisses to follow the light down the side of his jaw. It was odd, mouthing his skin through his beard. The roughening the short, springy hairs gave my lips zinged straight to my groin. I followed the kisses with my fingers, pressing and stroking, tracing the line of his neck. He was so beautiful. Even with the beard, so very beautiful.
Drawing back for an instant, he reached for my shirt and tugged it up. When he smoothed his palms against my skin, our kisses grew more vehement, hungrier. He slid one hand into the waistband of my trousers, and my own hands shook as I undid the buttons, then reached for the fastenings of his breeches and pushed them back and down. He did the same for me.
I think the world exploded, as our two cocks met. Ned took both his own cock and mine in his fist, and I put my hand over Ned’s. We didn’t kiss, then. Too busy staring each other in the eye, panting, rubbing against each other, Ned tightened his grip to increase the friction, his thumb making little circles around the tips of our cocks. He made me squirm and grind, damn him, desperate to get closer, our joined hands over our joined cocks ever more impassioned, and then, all of a sudden, the world did indeed explode, and Ned covered my mouth with his, tongue plunging in, stealing sound and breath as we climaxed together, bodies pressed in close, shuddering and shaking, cocks spurting into Ned’s hand.
We clung to each other until the world put itself back in order.
When his mouth left mine, I groaned, saddened. “Ned.”
“Shhhh.” In the light, his eyes were huge. He swallowed. Raised one hand and traced the line of my jaw from ear to chin. “Rafe. My dear, wonderful Rafe. I knew you’d come for me. No matter how long it took, you’d come.”
I opened my mouth, and he pressed his fingers against my lips.
“No, let me speak. I don’t say this often enough, but I love you, Rafe Lancaster. More than anything or anyone. It breaks my heart we must live this half life, that we can’t be openly together. But know I’d rather share this half life with you, than live a mere empty existence without you.”
He leaned forward and once again slid his lips against mine, a slow, delicious smoothing glide until I was smiling under his kiss.
He was safe, my Ned. Safe.
And still my Ned.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“You know, I’m forced to let go of you far more often than I ever signed up for.” I kissed Ned one more time and stepped back. “And I’m only doing it because I don’t want Tatlock swarming up that ladder looking for me.”
To prove my point, Tatlock bellowed a polite inquiry as to my well-being and a demand to know what in God’s (deleted) name was I doing up there in the dark?
Ned shook with laughter. “We won’t be long,” he called back. “It’s hard to find stuff in this light.”
“Don’t answer the man! It encourages him.” I let Ned go, to set myself at rights. I was rather damper in the nether regions than I was comfortable with and anticipated I’d find it chilly in that wind when we went back outside unless I got the chance to dry off. At least we’d managed to keep it quiet, kissing each other with a ferocity that had muted the moans and groans. Silent ecstasy was something of a skill, and we’d practised until we were experts.
George Todd, by the way, was tact incarnate. I didn’t hear so much as a snicker.
The brimstone torch Ned had jammed into the seat back was stuck, and it took me a moment to tug it loose while Ned made himself and his clothing decent. In the backwash of the torch, his expression was smug.
I paused in the doorway to the pilot’s cabin and turned. “I’ll always come when you need me, Ned. No matter what or where, and no matter the cost.”
His smile was sweet. “I know. I’ve always known.”
Another kiss, because heavens! He had frightened me with this latest stunt of his, and after having to let go of him once again, I slid into the pilot’s seat and dug the maps out of their holder on the side of the chair. Ned held the torch closer.
“Are those the ones you want?”
“Yes.” I tilted the map towards the torch. “Damn it, I need more light.”
The switch on the control panel was at my right hand, so familiar I knew exactly where it was. I didn’t need to see it to reach for it and flick it on. I didn’t even realise I had. Not until the engines below us made their usual loud ker-chunk as they fired into life, and the every aether lamp on the Brunel came on brighter than Blackpool illuminations.
Ned yelped, then clapped his free hand over his mouth. His eyes above it looked one part delighted and three parts chagrined about the yelp. George Todd’s yell echoed Tatlock’s, followed an instant later by the sound of the pair of them scrambling up into the cabin.
“Blimey,” I said. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
Ned removed his hand and grinned. “Nor me! How wonderful.”
The lights worked. The engines worked. The Brunel, it seem
ed, was back in business. I wasn’t sure how.
George and Tatlock joined us in the cockpit, demanding explanations I didn’t have. A few moments later, Nell and Theo arrived, with Theo’s guard, Whelan, bringing up the rear.
Nell’s greeting was an exhilarated “How thrilling!” that did nothing to explain her presence.
“We heard the engines start and saw your lights come on.” When Theo interpreted the look I gave him, he added, a little too quickly for nonchalance, “Miss Lancaster and I were out for a stroll.”
“Were you, indeed? Admiring the moonlight in the patented fashion, I suppose.” I raised an eyebrow in Nell’s direction.
She was more innocent than an entire cathedral chock-a-block with choirboys. “Don’t be silly, Rafe. It’s almost new moon and it’s not up yet. Darker than mourning out there.” She slid into the co-pilot’s seat. “How did you fix it?”
“I didn’t. I didn’t do anything but switch it on.” Teasing Nell wasn’t going to reap much in the way of amusement, so I leaned an elbow on the seat arm and propped my chin on it, tapping my fingers against my lips and staring at the control panel.
Storms and aeroships do not mix. Lightning disrupts the electrical equipment on board, inducing an uncontrolled discharge from the Leyden capacitor jars and thus sending high currents and voltages through the voltaic inverter apparatus. The surge can damage the system beyond repair if the safety cut-out mechanisms don’t engage and shut everything down. With no electricity to power the valves controlling the flow of phlogiston into the combustion chamber, the dampeners take over to snuff out the burning aether, turning off the engines altogether.
