The God's Eye (Lancaster's Luck Book 3)

by Anna Butler

  The second man was barely conscious. Ned hauled out the first aid kit and did what he could for the vicious shoulder wound. I held the man still while Ned got a dressing into place, and it took both of us to get a good dose of a laudanum decoction down him. He slid into a stupor almost immediately. We trussed him to his compatriot, keeping both of them immobile, and arranged the pair more comfortably out of the way behind a crate in the corner.

  Ned looked rather ruefully at the depleted first aid kit, before putting it aside. “What now?”

  “Now we arm ourselves.” I went to the arms cabinet against one wall, and in the light of the brimstone, we did so. To the teeth.

  More sophisticated guns than our small personal pistols, with larger and more powerful aether cartridges that would last longer and had more modes than straightforward “shoot to kill”. Knives, too. We slid thin stilettos into our boots and added sheathed daggers to our belts.

  I watched Ned check the phlogiston levels in a small pistol. “All right?”

  He didn’t pause. “Sam would rage like a madman to know I was so close to danger, but the truth is, Rafe, we’re taught from childhood that something can happen to our guards, and then we’re on our own. I’ve been as well-trained in handling weapons as you, I dare say.” He slid the gun into his pocket, as extra insurance.

  “Yes.” I managed a grin. “We need to free your guards.”

  “Get into the pyramid, you mean.”

  “Yes. Through the tent, or we climb up to the door on the first shelf and go in that way. I expect we’ll find Altenfeld and the others in the Verification Chamber. He’ll be on fire to get at the pyramid’s secrets.”

  We were at the Brunel’s door by then. A moment’s careful waiting, to ensure no one had missed our two Prussians and all was quiet, and we slid down the stair to ground level.

  “Climbing the pyramid in the dark begs disaster,” Ned said. “We might be able to do it, but it could be noisy. All it would take would be a few stones rattling down, and we’d be sitting targets.”

  “Then we go in through the door.”

  I didn’t think we’d bother to knock.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  In the end, we went in where the tent met the pyramid wall, after a careful circling route to approach from the east, creeping along in the deep shadows.

  The tent had been well fixed to the stone blocks, but the judicious application of a knife blade to the taut canvas at ground level allowed us to lift the tarp and peep inside. The only light spilled through the entrance to the pyramid’s Deliberation Chamber and one of the low-energy aether lanterns set onto the ground near the tent flap. It left the tent a place of shadow.

  Did Altenfeld have any idea at all? Anyone with sense would have brought one or two of the big aether lamps from inside the pyramid, maybe from the Place of Verification where Thoth’s everlasting power system had everything on full charge, to light the tent as bright as day. That he hadn’t was to our advantage.

  The tent was empty. Almost. One Gallowglass guard was visible: Jim Baxter, whom I’d seen at the plateau edge earlier and who’d been on guard at the tent door. He lay sprawled on his back, his head turned to one side so he faced us, eyes staring sightlessly into mine. One hand was folded over the hole in his chest, the other outflung, the fingers curling in on themselves.

  I let the tarp down, and Ned and I looked at each other. I’d initially turned the bigger pistol I’d taken from the Brunel onto neural disruptor mode, which would have snatched control of the limbs of our targets until the charge dissipated, leaving them unable to speak or move, other than an involuntary flopping about like just-caught fish. The humane setting, when it came to war.

  I changed it back to kill mode. Ned followed suit, his face so grim, mouth so hard and eyes glinting, that if I hadn’t known it was him, I might not have recognised him. He knew the dead guard, of course, as I did not. He’d respond to Jim’s death in a way I couldn’t. He gave me a sharp nod.

  No quarter given. Altenfeld and his men had lost the chance of mercy when they’d killed one of Ned’s people.

  I widened the slit in the canvas with my knife until I could slip through on my belly. Ned followed. Silently, we crawled over to the open doorway into the pyramid. A glance inside showed it was better lit than the tent. Four Prussians stood over the Gallowglass guards, who sat in a disarmed, disconsolate group, with their hands clasped on the backs of their necks. Hugh sat with them. Sam was tied to the bed that was his prison. I couldn’t see Tatlock at first. There. Looking like Mount Etna about to burst.

  No sign of Günter, but that wasn’t unexpected.

  No Nell. No Theo. My chest hurt, as if some cyclopean hand had thrust itself in past my ribs to squeeze my heart the way a man might squeeze an overripe orange, the pulp and juice bursting through his clenched fingers.

  No time to worry about Nell until I could reach her. And that meant getting past these bloody Prussians.

  Ned looked, too. He glanced at me, grimaced, and held up four fingers. I nodded.

  I pressed against him and breathed so softly into his ear I doubted even God could hear me. “Need to get one or two out here. Even the odds.”

  He gave me a twisted grin in response. We rose to our feet, taking care to be slow and quiet, and stationed ourselves on each side of the entrance, our backs to the pyramid’s blocks.

  No quarter. The bastards had killed one of our own. They had taken Nell and Theo somewhere out of my sight, and I had no idea, none at all, if Nell was safe and unharmed. They had Hugh and men I’d count as friends under guard. Awaiting execution—of that I had no doubt.

  No quarter given.

  I nodded towards the tent flap and raised my pistol. Ned stared, then nodded. The aether in the tiny vacuum chamber on the top of my pistol flashed into life, a bright, baleful blue that put lapis lazuli to shame, threaded through with a twist of deadly scarlet phlogiston. The faint whine probably wasn’t audible more than a few feet away. The energy pulse sent the aether lamp flying, clacking loud enough to raise the dead.

  But if Jim the Gallowglass guard didn’t stir, the clatter caught the attention of the men inside the pyramid.

  “Was war das?” a startled voice asked.

  Ned and I waited, keeping still as shadows. Movement might give the game away, and they had the advantage, since we’d have to go through the narrow stone doorway to reach them and free our friends. They could pick us off with ease.

  “Was zur Hölle geht hier vor?” The sound of booted feet came our way, and a bulky dark shape blotted out the light of the Deliberation Chamber. The man took a step into the tent. “Was—”

  I jerked him to one side, clapped my left hand over his mouth, and pulled his head back, knife in my right hand. The blade was sharp as death itself. Sharper.

  Basic human anatomy: many of the better targets, if one wishes to kill a man—the heart, the lungs—are protected in cages of bone that can deflect the blade. Not the carotid artery. Nothing protected that. Death wouldn’t be instantaneous, but within a second or two he would be losing too much blood to put up any resistance. He gurgled and stiffened into a statue. He knew his danger.

  Before I could pull the knife across the man’s throat, Ned brought his pistol around in a roundhouse blow, much as I had with our prisoner back at the Brunel. Ned’s aim was perfect, smacking the pistol butt against the man’s temple but missing my restraining hand. I wasn’t sure why he’d done it, mind you, but it worked. The Prussian would have fallen like corn before the reaper’s scythe, if I hadn’t been holding him up. While Ned flitted back to his place on the other side of the entrance, I took a rapid step to the side and lowered the Prussian, stooping to make sure of him. The man’s eyes were rolled up in his head. He wouldn’t be going anywhere for a few minutes. Another crack on the noggin—my knife butt this time—made sure of it. I hadn’t even nicked his neck.

  A shout from inside the Deliberation Chamber and confused voices.

  I pointe
d at Ned and then jerked a thumb to the left. At myself, and a thumb-jerk to the right, then I held up a finger to say I’d go first. Ned grimaced. Nodded.

  One more glance between Ned and me, the one saying everything we had no time to say aloud, and in I went.

  Oh, not straight in. I was neither quite that stupid, nor quite that desperate. In at an angle, in a rolling dive that meant the fire the three remaining Prussians sent my way went crackling over my head.

  I crashed down onto my right side and rolled again, firing as I moved. The Prussian nearest me jerked back. Missed him! Missed the bastard. Get up. Get up! Get—

  I jackknifed up onto my knees. Rushing noise behind me. Yelling. Who the hell is doing all that bloody yelling?

  Fire again. Fire.

  Got the bastard. Got—

  Ned—

  More yelling and firing. A second Prussian was down, his pistol hand a bloody mess. The Gallowglass guards—all moving. Someone, screaming like a Ban Sidthe, crashed into the last Prussian as he aimed his pistol at me. Holding him. Struggling together.

  Oooofff.

  Something hurtled into me, knocking me flat. Arms grabbed. Rolled me away. A group of Gallowglass guards had Ned, hustling him to one side, with George standing, arms outstretched, in front of them. Sam pulled against his restraints, face red and distorted, roaring with so much rage he was incomprehensible.

  The last Prussian was down, his assailant on top of him.

  The unmistakable cheu-owww, cheu-owww of an aether pistol, and both Prussian and his assailant jerking and quaking.

  Then everything was still and quiet. Very still. Very quiet.

  Even Sam.

  Banger Bill released me and helped me to my feet. “All right?”

  I nodded. “Ned!”

  “Here and fine.” Ned handed his pistol over to George and ran to release Sam.

  Hugh was beside me, shaky but nodding reassurance. I hugged him, hard, and he was red over the cheekbones when I let him go.

  I turned to look at the last Prussian and the guard who’d taken him down. A hell of a lot of blood. And—

  “Oh, damn.”

  Tatlock.

  Around us, the Gallowglass guards collected bodies, retrieving their own weapons from the corner in which the Prussians had stowed them. Sam held Ned in so tight an embrace he endangered Ned’s ribs.

  George got up from where he’d been working on Tatlock and said, in my ear, “Two shots to the chest. Tore him apart. His right lung’s gone. Can’t work out how he’s still breathing.”

  He stepped back, making room for me to squat beside my chief guard.

  Tatlock’s breath wheezed in and out like a bellows in the forge of his shattered chest. He frowned at me. “You… all… right?”

  It took him three breaths. Breaths he didn’t have to waste.

  “All thanks to you.”

  His breath hitched in his throat and faltered. He didn’t take his eyes off me. “Couldn’t… let…” A long pause. A gulping breath. “What… paid… for.”

  “Then I don’t pay you enough. I’ll have to up your wages when we get home.” I took his hand in mine, the one that normally held his gun. It took a real effort to make my mouth curve up. “Some people will do anything for a pay rise.”

  “You’ll… do.”

  “Thank you, Bert.”

  It got a faint smile out of him. He nodded.

  Another hitching, half-strangled breath. And another. Another. A pause. And another breath, fainter and ever more difficult. His grip, already feeble, slackened. A moment later, I used my free hand to close his eyes. I laid his hand over the horrible bloody mess of torn flesh and spiky, broken ribs, and patted it, sitting back on my heels and blowing out a harsh sigh.

  “I’ll stay with him.” Hugh’s hand had been on my shoulder throughout. “They took Miss Nell and Mr Theo upstairs, into the pyramid.”

  I got up and nodded my thanks to him. “When?”

  “A couple of hours, I think, but it’s hard to be sure. We were all…” He paused, his face scrunched up as he searched for the right word. “Dazed.”

  George came back then, with Nell’s little pistol in his hand. “I found this with the others.”

  I pocketed it without comment. She didn’t even have that small defence, then. I’d destroy them if they hurt her. Without mercy or even the vestige of a second thought.

  “Who killed Jim?” It was Ned.

  He’d disentangled himself from Sam’s impersonation of a clinging octopus. Sam sat with his head in his hands. Overcome with emotions normally kept under fierce control, no doubt.

  George shook his head. “When I saw he wasn’t with us here, I thought he must be gone. They wouldn’t have got past him, otherwise.” He hesitated. “I reckon it was him.”

  Ned scowled. We knew which “him” George meant.

  But retribution would have to wait. “How many went up with Theo and Nell?” I asked.

  “Four of them, and Mr Reitz.” George answered without looking away from Isaac Whelan, Theo’s guard, whom he was fending off with one hand. Whelan sported the worst black eye I’d ever seen. The whole of the right side of his face was red, and his eye was swollen shut. Less steady on his feet than a man wobbling about to keep his footing on a ship’s deck in high seas, still he tried to take a pistol from George. “Give over, Isa. You aren’t up to coming with us.”

  “I won’t be left behind.”

  “Stand down,” Sam ordered. “You’ll stay here with me and Hugh, Isa. You’ll be a liability in a fight.”

  Whelan recoiled from this brutal truth, but after a moment made his shaky way to where Sam sat on the narrow cot. I couldn’t say he sat on the floor beside the bed. He collapsed onto it, limbs jerky and uncoordinated.

  “Hurts like hell, I know.” Sam’s tone was gentler, but the gaze he’d locked on to Ned burned with a mix of rage and frustration, love and terror. He turned those hawk-fierce eyes to the guards. “George, you’re in charge. Every last one of you will stand in for me with our First Heir, understood? If it comes to a clear threat to his life, do not hesitate to kill. His safety is paramount. Whatever it takes.”

  George snapped his gun up to the “ready” position. And “On my life,” Banger Bill promised, to murmurs of agreement and solemn nods from the men clustered behind him.

  House guards. It was so often on their lives: their loyalty to their charges was absolute. I glanced at Tatlock, now under Hugh’s gentle guardianship. Absolute loyalty, even when their ungrateful charges didn’t expect or appreciate it.

  “Definitely four of them?” I asked.

  “I think so. We were pretty out of it,” George admitted.

  “Something in that damned stew,” Sam spat out.

  “Yes. It was.” Ned’s face twisted before smoothing out. “We’ll deal with it.”

  “They’re six down—two at the Brunel and four in here.” I checked the charge on my pistol and rammed it back into its holster. The issue of how we’d been overcome was deferred, not forgotten. “I was wondering if our count was right. We were told a dozen Prussians hired a pilot and his aeroship in Khartoum. Thirteen in all—so with the four upstairs, we’re three short.” I thought back to the wreck I’d seen the previous day. “It was a hard landing. The missing three may not have survived or were injured.”

  “Or didn’t make it across the river. Let’s count on it being four of them in there with Theo and Nell, then, one of those Altenfeld. And Günni.” Ned stared at the ceiling and frowned. “I wonder how much sound carried. If they know we’re coming.”

  “The staircase to the chamber is narrow.” George scowled. “If they have any sense, at least one of them will be sitting on the top step, on guard. One man with a pistol could hold against us for days.”

  I exchanged a look with Ned, and for the first time since I’d woken with a tree root poking a hole in my back, the smile pulling at my mouth felt good and unforced. “Ah, but it’s not the only way in. We can ge
t in a different way and come up behind them.”

  “Climbing the outside like we did yesterday?” George didn’t add, In the bloody dark? but his expression said it for him.

  “No. An entrance no one but Rafe and I know about. Günni has no idea.” Ned’s returning smile was brief but genuine. “You were right not to say anything, Rafe.”

  I let my smile broaden. It was good to be right, now and again.

  It made up for all the times I’d been wrong.

  The short corridor leading from the narrow room behind the Deliberation Chamber ended at the foot of the straight staircase to the pyramid’s upper levels. We inched along it to stand at the bottom of the stairs for a moment, listening, but all was silent. If the people above us had heard the commotion and turbulence of their comrades’ deaths, they betrayed no sign of it. Perhaps the thousands of tons of stone had swallowed up the noise.

  I turned back to the narrow room, to its west wall. It took me a moment to find the door I’d left unlatched the previous evening, but the mere press of my hand against it and it swung inward, away from me, silent on its metal pivots, opening into the murky corridor beyond. The shadows flinched away when we shone our brimstones through the opening.

  “This corridor leads to a landing and two more staircases. Spiral staircases, this time.” I glanced at Ned, then at the assembled guards.

  Eight of us altogether: me, Ned, George, Banger Bill, and four guards. We’d left two with Sam, Hugh, and Whelan in the Deliberation Chamber in case the Prussians went down to investigate.

  Eight of us would have to be enough. Altenfeld might be unaware we were after him and his men, but they were a formidable enemy.

  “We’ll be taking the spiral staircase up to the second level, where Nell and Theo are being held.” I stopped. Took a deep breath. “Look, I don’t have time to explain how this pyramid’s set up. George has been in the upper chamber. He can tell you about the odd machine, the one we thought made the most horrible noise every half-hour. Regular as clockwork.”