"Sorry, still," said Aught.
The creature's loyalty melted my heart. I put my hand on its neck, thinking about giving it a rub as I would a cat or other indoor pet, but the metal carapace confused me, so I placed my hand back in my lap.
Ben Franklin was watching me this whole time with an intensity that bordered on mania.
"I owe you an apology as well," said Ben as he reached for his tea.
"You will do no such thing. It is I who should apologize. For a time, I did spy for the emperor, though not willingly, as he threatened my son, Pavel," I said.
His eyebrow rose. "You remember that?"
"After you...uhm...well, afterwards, when Rowan brought me back. Those memories came flooding back in. Do you remember?" I asked.
He nodded. "While I was away, I determined a method to restore the memories. It seems they're not entirely stolen. Imprints remain that can be filled with the ink of memory, revealing the previous pattern."
"I hope your restorative was less invasive than death," I said with a chuckle on my lips.
"Entirely," said Ben, then grew more serious. "I'll admit it was hard to fathom your allegiance for a while. It seemed each event only proved that you'd never been a true member of the Society. But hearing the words from your lips, spoken into the face of a cherished friend, denying the succor that you might receive on the other side. That was proof enough for me."
"You're not worried about what Rowan Blade implied? That if I'd gone over, I would reconsider my allegiance, upon learning something that she would not speak of?" I asked.
Ben held the teacup between his hands, rotating it slowly. "When a person swears allegiance to a person, especially when political expediency offers a more advantageous life, it's easy to see how that person might be swayed by different alliances, should they offer more benefits than the first.
"But swear that allegiance to an idea—be that the unassailable rights of man, or the principles of the Enlightenment, or the raw truth of a democratic system—and to do so in the face of persecution. That is the true mark of allegiance. To refuse to go with Rowan and press your neck against her blade in defiance, that was the only proof I needed," said Ben.
I shook my head. "When the spymaster blackmailed me, I should have brought it to the attention of the Society."
He patted my hand, giving it a squeeze, before returning his hand to his lap. "Mistakes are made. It's how we learn from them."
"I have so many questions," I blurted out.
"That is why I came. I knew we had much to share," he said.
"Harvest?" I asked.
Ben chuckled, a cunning mirth tugging the corner of one lip upward. "I tricked him into a portal, sending him back to Otherland. He will not bother us for a while."
"What happened when you fell through the portal with the memory thief?" I asked.
"That's a tale that could take days to tell, and someday I'll fill in the rest, but for today, I must only sketch the outline, giving the salient points so we might continue our discourse. The short of it is that the battle with the memory thief continued on the other side. It was only through physical assault did I overcome that creature, but once I did, the worm fell from my neck and I fell into a fog," he said.
The memory of those final moments before Ben had fallen through the portal came back to me. "Oh my! Trisella! What happened to her?"
When his gaze flitted to Aught, I knew instantly what he implied.
"Aught," said Ben. "Would you fetch us some biscuits from the kitchen?"
Wordlessly, the automaton leapt from the divan and scampered into the other room.
"That's Trisella?" I asked.
Ben took a maudlin cast. "What I could save. By the time I got back, she'd lost enough blood that she was permanently wounded. She was bedbound, only capable of moving her head to eat and drink, and would remain that way for life. Later, when I learned the art of galimancy, she begged me to use her life essence in an automaton so that she might experience movement again."
The memory of that moment was imprinted upon Franklin. His eyes seemed momentarily sunken. "I, of course, agreed to her request, despite the dangers. She was a pitiful, sunken thing lying on that bed."
"Does she remember her former life?" I asked.
"The warp and woof of memories did not transfer. Only the impression of personality and the essential life essence," said Ben. "Trisella had lived a life of service, so she was inclined to continue in that manner in her new form. You made quite an impression on her, as well, in those final hours at the Bingham estate. She asked about you often when she was in bed, asking for stories of your adventures, a request I indulged often, as she had no other outlet for her desires."
Aught returned at that moment with a basket of biscuits in her tiny mechanical hands. I'd been thinking of the creature as a him or an it, but not her. Knowing her origin solidified the gender.
"Thank you, Aught," I said. "Do you like your name?"
Aught tilted her head, eyes dilating with an almost audible rubbing.
"Is good, Aught. Name, Kat gave me good," said Aught.
"That pleases me," I said. "Thank you for saving me. You are a good friend."
The golden pangolin stood on her hind legs and gave a bow, before hopping down and scurrying to the second floor.
Ben continued once Aught had left. "When I was faced with the dilemma of needing to come back to Philadelphia to stop the plot against Washington and needing to stay in Otherland to deal with other issues, I chose to send both Aught and Morwen Hightower."
"Once again, my apologies, I did not realize she was an ally. For a time, I thought it was Morwen that meant the President and his wife harm," I said.
"The root of the issue was my doubt in you. Since I was unsure about where you placed loyalties, I did not want all my eggs in one basket. I sent Aught to you and gave Morwen instructions pertaining only to the Washingtons, leaving your former role in the Society unmentioned. That you two clashed was unfortunate," said Ben.
"Who or what was Morwen Hightower? I did not lie when I said she tried to swallow me whole," I said.
"A curious and startlingly dreadful sight, I'm sure," he said with a chuckle. I punched him in the thigh for his impropriety.
He continued wryly. "Morwen Hightower was a mercenary, of sorts. To explain her role would be to explain the inner workings of Otherland, about which I don't understand completely, nor do we have enough time for me to explain. But"—he held a finger up—"I will give you the overreaching structure.
"In Otherland there are two basic sides that oppose each other. Which would be like saying that in our world, the political landscape is made up of those with America and those against. A simplistic view that doesn't offer the nuances that makes navigating the game of empires a requirement.
"But nonetheless, I shall use this simplified nomenclature. On one side, the side that we stand upon, is, for lack of a better term, the god Perun," said Ben.
"It is truly a god?" I asked, intrigued.
"As much that its power is beyond the realms of men. This being has existed for a time longer than which I can conceive," said Ben. "And on the other side, having an equally long life, maybe longer, is the god Veles."
"Wait," I said, placing my hand on his arm. "These are the names of deities of my homeland. Are you saying they're real?"
It was a heavy question and Ben weighed it considerably before speaking. "That the mythology of your homeland and the gods of Otherland are named similarly, say much about how long Otherland has influenced this world. For in that lies the reason they are interested in this realm. Otherland is collapsing. It's a dying Universe at the end of time. Simply put, Perun has accepted this fate as the rightful end to a long and prosperous life, while Veles seeks to extend his, and his followers’ lives, by invading this realm."
"If Veles came over, he would enslave us," I said, recalling the third stanza of the prophecy.
"His rule is quite autocratic," said Ben.
<
br /> "And Perun is democratic?" I asked hopefully.
"Sadly, no. But he's much more open to discord and disagreement among his followers. However, this means that they have spoken up in favor of invasion, refused only by Perun's veto. This is what I mean when I say the sides are tangled. There are others as well, neutral sides, and mercenaries working for hire."
"Like Morwen Hightower," I said.
"Yes. Like her. But she's not the only one," said Ben.
It took only a moment to figure out what Ben meant. "Rowan Blade. That's why she seemed reluctant in her task."
"Yet do not confuse her loyalty. Her kind have made their way in that world by never failing the test of a mercenary," said Ben. "A mercenary that doesn't follow through with its task, no matter how onerous, doesn't remain in business for long."
We sat in silence as I considered the implications of what Ben had told me. Though I'd been battling the supernatural for the last few years, learning that they'd been a part of my homeland's history for thousands of years was hard to fathom.
"And what of your task with the Gamayun?" asked Ben.
To be reminded of them was to be reminded of the tangled mess of prophecies in my head. I thought briefly of withholding that knowledge, but decided I needed someone that I could speak to about it.
I started my explanation at the moment when the Warden came to me for help. I spoke for a long while, quenching my thirst on the black tea more than once, for Ben stopped me often with questions.
After I explained the final confrontation with the Gamayun and how I defeated them, by taking all their prophecies myself, Ben leaned back in his spot. What I told him seemed to give him indigestion.
"It's worse than I thought," he said. "That prophecy implies that one possible future is complete annihilation."
"But it's a choice given. I cannot imagine why I would choose the void rather than any other alternative," I said.
"Was your entanglement with the Gamayun not instructive enough?"
"I know. I know. By the blazes, I know. I mean only that this prophecy at least gives room for hope. Compared to the three I had to deal with, that's a relief. And remember, I have a host of other prophecies in my head that must come to fruition before we can reach that day," I said.
Ben looked worried, which was unlike him. He tried to smile reassuringly, but I saw through it.
"Can you recall each and every one of them?" he asked.
"I might sooner forget my name than forget those prophecies. They're etched in my soul," I said.
"Do they suggest any possible futures?"
What came out of my lips was a bubbling madness that resembled laughter, but was nothing like it. "All of them. None of them. I don't know. I don't even know how they all could be true, since half of them seem to contradict the other half."
"I know one thing about them," said Ben.
"What?"
"You've become the most important person in this conflict. The Gamayun named you as the final decision maker. The prophecies in your head make you a central figure to all events." Ben searched my face with his eyes. "Are you prepared for what that entails?"
"Whether I am in this moment prepared, or not, is irrelevant. But I must make myself so if I'm to weather the storms ahead," I said, staring back at Ben.
"With that resoluteness, no one in the Society doubt you now," he said.
"What then?"
"We must take stock of our resources. We have the Transcendent Society. You know Voltaire, of course, but I will send messages to Kant, Paine, and Rousseau. And since we lost poor Adam Smith, I shall recruit another, in due time. And don't forget we have you and I. There is the demi-plane which I acquired on my travels—"
"That stone village below the estate?" I interrupted.
"Yes. It's a tiny chunk of a collapsed universe. I won it in a contest while I was in Otherland." Ben winked. "I think it'll be quite useful as a base of operations. It's called the Thornveld."
"Who lived in it before?" I asked.
"I haven't the slightest idea. Let's just hope they never come back," he said. "What about that sorcery you performed when we fled Harvest?"
That question led to another couple of hours of discussion as I went over the details of the battle on the Brave Eagle and the events leading up to it. Ben had heard some of these details before, including some pieces from the Warden Simon Snyder, but had not heard the whole sequence from my lips in such detail.
"Can you control this magic?" he asked at the end.
"Not entirely. Not at all, really. Each time I use it, it feels like I'm doing something wrong. It's quite painful," I said. "Do you know how I might have acquired it? It seems it happened when I was in the cooling water when they used the weapon on the Brave Eagle."
"I learned nothing in Otherland that might suggest how one might acquire magic. I was under the impression it was innate to an individual. Maybe the exposure awoke the latent magic in you. Either way, it's something you need to figure out how to control. We need everything we can use for the days ahead," said Ben.
"What should we do next?" I asked.
Ben set the teacup on the saucer. "We don't know enough to make a plan yet. But I have a few ideas on how we can begin. First, we need to gather allies. You and I, and even the Transcendent Society, cannot do this alone. Second, you must write down everything that's happened to you so far. We must share this with the others so that they might understand the danger. We need to get past this petty mistrust. If we are to succeed, we need everyone to be on the same side."
My thoughts first went to Voltaire, who would probably never accept me, no matter what the circumstances.
"Should I write down the prophecies in my head?" I asked.
Ben had a look of horror. "No, Kat. Not even one letter. The less they know about the details of those prophecies, the better. If you tell others, then that might reduce your role in this endeavor. We must control the prophecies. In fact, I wouldn't even dwell on them, or think much about them. Until we know more about what this might mean, I think you should push them as far from your conscious mind as you can."
Easier said than done; already I felt them pressing against my thoughts like an insistent cat with very sharp claws.
"Fine. And third?" I asked.
"That's it. No third."
I tried to hide my frustrated sigh. "Gather allies. Write my memoirs. How can that be a worthy plan?"
"For now," said Ben, as he stood suddenly. "Or must I lecture you on Descartes' principles of analytics?"
His words echoed the barb I'd thrown his direction, back during our investigation into the stolen memories.
"Fair enough, Temple Franklin," I said.
Without further comment, Ben gave me a courtly bow and left.
Gather allies.
Did we have any?
I recalled one. He was probably wondering what had happened since I'd kept him in the dark about the Gamayun. But with them banished, it was time to make a visit to the Warden.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It took a few days to find Simon Snyder. He wasn't in his apartment, or at the courthouse. Simon had gone to stay with his brother's family for a few weeks. It was only by chance that his landlord remembered.
I found Simon in the yard chopping wood. He wore only a white shirt and black trousers. Steam rose from his head, forming a crown.
He saw me get out of the carriage but kept chopping wood. Set log. Swing axe. Throw pieces into a pile. Repeat.
I watched him work for a while. The arc of his mustache and the sternness of his gaze said that he didn't want to be bothered, but I'd come all this way and didn't want to go back without speaking to him.
"The killer was dealt with," I said between swings, while the thunk of the axe blow echoed sharply in the crisp air. He set up another log and set the axe against his shoulder.
Simon gave a momentary pause before bringing the axe down with considerable force. The two pieces blew apart, tumbling in
to the snow.
He placed the head of the axe on the ground and put his palm on the handle.
"Am I not the Warden of the Philadelphia? Or am I just an errand boy to fetch you clues so you might resolve them?" he said.
"My deepest and humblest apologies, Simon. Things spiraled out of control very quickly. I had no time to involve you. As I told you before, the circumstances were quite dangerous. I didn't want to risk you getting hurt," I said.
As soon as the words came out of my lips I knew I'd erred. I’d wanted to show my concern for him, but he only took it as an insult. That he was a boy to be coddled rather than a constable of the government, a soldier who had fought in and survived war.
"Why did you come here? Say your piece and be gone," said Simon.
He was a handsome man, even when he frowned. It was something honest and forthright in him that brought a flutter to my heart.
"I came to tell you about the murders. As I explained before, the killer has been dealt with," I said. "It was the physician who tended the Bone House. Rowan Blade."
Simon seemed doubtful, so I explained further, including the events with the Gamayun. I left out the Thornveld, Otherland, and the prophecies (implying only that destroying the fruits had banished the bird-women), but generally explained the increase of magic in our world.
"I don't know what to say. It's a lot to comprehend," said Simon.
"You wanted to know the truth. That's it. I know it's enough to make you feel like you have the barrel fever. Trust me. I question it daily. But you've seen enough—the deathless assassin on the Brave Eagle. The circumstances of those deaths. There have been other things that you probably haven't told me about."
He made a tiny nod of agreement. Almost reluctantly. "I have. The world keeps getting stranger day by day. I guess all this explains the rumors going about the city. People are talking about prophecies, flying witches, and magic, as if they were tools used on a farm. You should be more careful with your craft. Even my nieces are talking about the raven-haired woman in the flying cauldron."
"Technically, it's a mortar," I said. "And I didn't have much choice that day. I had to move fast."
Birds of Prophecy (The Dashkova Memoirs Book 3) Page 18
