Brassy snapped her heels together and saluted. "Yes, Colonel Dashkova."
"Hush," I said, but the girl's irrepressible grin kept me from being too mad. I sighed. "Do you have the forged plans?"
She tapped on the worn leather satchel over her shoulder. "Ben said it was his best work."
"He would know something about forgery, I guess," I said.
We made our way to the back of the building. I made short work of the lock and Brassy slipped inside with a wink.
If everything went as expected and the forged plans were accepted as real, the airships would head northeast over the Atlantic Ocean to perform midair transfers—a ghastly experience for those poor soldiers who would have to cross a rope bridge between gondolas—that would keep them busy for quite some time.
The trumpeting horn blast of a steam ship startled me from my thoughts. The craft was moving upriver to the Philadelphia docks. The wind muted the sounds of sailors moving across its wooden decks.
I watched it approach, puffs of coal smoke slipping from its pipes. Water churned at its rear, leaving a foamy white wake.
The steam ship had enraptured me thus that I did not hear the officers until they were practically at the front door. Brassy had yet to appear, which meant she was not finished in replacing the documents with forgeries.
I rushed around the brick building, hiking up my gray woolen skirt for speed. When I reached the officers in their Continental blues, they startled upon my sudden appearance.
"Madam," said the officer in front, brow hunched with suspicion. He was a handsome man with a bit of cribbage face, though it did not mar his attractiveness, merely giving him a rugged look. His gaze found my rapier. It was unextended, so it left him with a confused twist to his lips.
"Bonjour, gentlemen," I said in a thick French accent, curtseying. "If you please, may I have a word? I'm Yeka Carmontelle, editor of the Paris Review."
"Captain Rufus Brownstone," said the officer in front. "Forgive my rudeness, but we have official business to conduct on this morning."
The one in back moved towards the door as if he couldn't be bothered to acknowledge my presence.
"Gentlemen!" I exclaimed, sliding over to place myself before the door. "I desire only a petite word, something for my readers. I have come a long way to hear the mind of you fabulous Americans."
"We don't have time for newspapers," said Captain Brownstone. "Especially French newspapers. Napoleon wages war in Europe. You could be a French spy."
"Moi?" I exclaimed, touching my fingertips to my chest. "Must I remind you that the press in my country is free, including freedom from the tyrant, Napoleon Bonaparte."
The officer nearest the door tried to reach for the handle, but I swatted his hand away, giving him a playful smile.
"You should pay attention when a lady is speaking," I lectured.
"Madam Carmontelle, move away from the door," said the Captain, his patience coming to an end.
I wished that Brassy would give me a sign that she was finished inside, but we'd planned no such communication, so I prepared to extend this distraction as long as the officers would let me.
"A few questions, nothing secret," I said. "Rather the ladies of Paris would like to know about the daily lives of America's brave soldiers, your outdoorsman habits, and how many of them are single."
At that, the two officers in front relaxed, though Captain Brownstone was still staring at me with suspicion.
"Why do you have a rapier at your side?" he asked, crossing his arms.
"Tis not a weapon, but an accoutrement," I said, twirling my hands. I removed the hilt from my side, careful not to bump the pommel and extend the blade, ruining my disguise.
Captain Brownstone took it carefully, as if it were an explosive device. He turned it over in his hands, weighing it.
"Quite heavy for a decoration," he said, looking up with a menacing glance. "You know, if you're a spy, we will hang you in Market Square tomorrow. These are dangerous times."
I gave him as pleasant a grin as I could muster. When I was at court, hiding my intelligence had always been a difficulty. Why was it my concern that I was smarter than them? But now, my disguise would crumple if he thought I had bright ideas behind my brown eyes.
Officer Brownstone stared for a long, uncomfortable while. I maintained eye contact, trying to relay a sense of benign earnestness. He still had the hilt in his large hands.
As the wrinkles on his face deepened, I knew I was in trouble. I had no desire to injure these men, but would unleash my sorcery if that's what it took to escape. He seemed to be weighing my fate. The other two watched the Captain with interest, glancing between us, their flat expressions turning grimmer by the second.
When he reached for the pistol at his side, I prepared to unleash the light burning in the recesses of my mind. When he dug into a worn leather pouch rather than grabbing his weapon, I had to hide my palpable relief behind a faux yawn.
"If you wish to acquire an interview for your newspaper, you should present yourself first at the government offices in Philadelphia proper," he said, and then handed me a folded envelope with flowing script on the outside. "The address is written there. I was planning on reusing the parchment, but this serves a purpose as well."
Realizing that I could no longer delay the officers, I took the folded envelope and placed it in a jacket pocket. Then I gave a deep curtsey.
"Thank you, Captain Brownstone. I will present myself at once," I said.
He gave me a flat look that wrinkled his forehead.
"Oh yes," I said, moving out of the way. "You have business to conduct."
When he moved towards the door, I held out my hand. He handed back the rapier hilt, though he still seemed to harbor some suspicions.
"Adieu, gentlemen," I said, strolling away.
They went inside, but I kept going. If Brassy had not left, then I would be captured as well by staying within reach.
So I strolled along the path headed back towards the ferry, resisting every urge to glance back to the little brick building. My concerns evaporated when I saw the slight soldier leaning against the railing. She nodded a greeting and we made the journey back over to Philadelphia in silence as I watched the west for signs of a storm.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
To ensure that Congress and the President would safely witness the brief invasion and display of the spectral cannon, Temple Franklin hosted a party at the estate in honor of Ben Franklin's "death", which coincidentally fell on the day of the war vote.
Though holding the party the day before the actual anniversary might have been considered odd, Ben played it off as a consideration for the vote. The trickier part had been setting up the fleet of flashpaper airships while preparing the party, which had taken additional resources.
After our successful diverting of the American airship fleet, Brassy, along with a healthy number of her friends from the Magdelen House, served the party. The courtyard garden had been exquisitely prepared, and a line of black steam carriages waited outside the estate. Men in top hats and tailcoats marched to the front door.
Both Federalists and Democrat-Republicans had come, since both sides liked to claim that Franklin had shared their ideals. This minor point irked Ben, though he was focused on the greater task enough not to show it too much.
The plan was that the fleet would arrive around three o'clock in the afternoon, after the partygoers had had time to imbibe a few beverages. Once the various congressmen and the President had been sufficiently disturbed, the spectral cannon would unleash its might on a building near the estate we'd built precisely for the purpose of being destroyed, proving the danger of these ships to all witnesses. Then Temple Franklin would rally a defense, using special "weapons" that he had at the estate. A few airships would be destroyed, then the fleet would turn and flee into the east before the real American fleet arrived.
If all went well, Congress and the President would realize they couldn't send our ships tow
ards Russia, or they would open themselves to another attack by this forward fleet of Russian airships. The American fleet would scour the countryside for the Russians, but never find them, since the flashpaper ships would be annihilated once the storm arrived.
And though the plan was fraught with hidden dangers, it was relatively straightforward, despite the exotic subterfuge. Which made me believe we would be wildly successful. I'd even checked the prophecies for signs of a result, but only what I'd said during the witch's play suggested anything. Not that it mattered since prophecies were only understood once the events had passed.
My role was to work behind the scenes, as William Bingham, Enoch Tasker, and Thomas Jefferson would all be at the party, making my appearance complicated. I had two final items: to help Djata with preparations and meet with Simon Snyder before the attack.
The Warden had been invited to the party, and I intercepted him before he could make it inside. Standing on the corner, I waved him down as he approached on horseback. He was wearing his buckskin coat and tricorn hat.
He seemed at once confused and reluctantly surprised at my appearance. He sat straight and tall. His mustache drooped with concern as his gaze fell upon me.
"I gather this meeting was not by chance," he said. "Especially with you wearing men's attire. Anything important in that knapsack?"
Suddenly aware of the weight on my shoulders, I adjusted the straps. We'd been using the gauntlet to move around the city quickly to put our plans into place. Ben had finished preparations at the launch site and had given me the gauntlet to give to Djata so he could portal himself into the main airship.
"I need to speak with you before the party," I said, glancing down the street. Another black steam carriage had arrived. Men and women in fancy clothes climbed out, laughing, and strolled up the path to the estate.
"Then speak," said Simon, looking at me strangely.
I moved to his side, pressing my hand against the powerful neck of the dark brown horse. The smell of horseflesh and the nearness of the Warden were mildly intoxicating, but I told myself it was the unspent sorcery inflaming my lust.
"You have a part today," I said, glancing to the sky. Though storm clouds had yet to show themselves, I could feel an energy in the air that tasted like copper on my tongue.
"A part?" he said, exasperated. "I can't believe at a...oh, fine, I suppose I won't have much choice." He shook his head, then pressed his lips together. "No one's going to get hurt, are they?"
"No," I said. "Or at least, not unless we fail to keep them from launching a preemptive attack on Russia."
"If it weren't for that, I'm not sure I would help you," he said. "But war is a beast that once loosed is hard to saddle. I fear what calamities this might provoke. What shall I need to do?"
I showed him an honest smile. "Be yourself. Stay near Ben. When the moment comes, do as he asks. If you don't, people will get hurt."
"You're not giving me much to go on," he said.
The truth was that we didn't think Simon could pull off the surprise and concern necessary. He was too forthright for deception. Plus, he might balk given Ben's intentions for him after the vote.
"Trust me," I said, "it's safer this way. What we're doing is treason. You don't want to know anything about it in case something goes wrong."
"Are you sure you want to do this then?" he asked.
It was a choice I'd easily made. The worse thing was to do nothing, even if it seemed safer. And the Transcendent Society had allegiance not to the American government, but to the ideals of the Enlightenment. This proposed attack was proof that freedom was a delicate gift that had to be continuously defended from rhetoric and misguided passions.
"Absolutely," I said.
"I will agree under one condition," he said.
"And that is?"
His eyes were bright and glossy. When he spoke, it was soft, as if I were a delicate butterfly that might spook and fly away.
"That you allow me to resume my courtship," he said.
My heart lurched sideways.
"I..."
Lips and tongue became rubbery.
"After what happened before?" I asked. "And everything since? And knowing what I am?"
"I'm a fool for the desires of my heart," he said, his face stretched in a grin.
I wanted to say no. To say there were complications was an understatement. I wasn't even sure it was possible with the state of my magic, or with the plans Ben had for Simon after today.
Did I want it? I wasn't sure. We were different people, though I admit I enjoyed time spent with him, even when it was at cross purposes.
Absolutely, I wanted a night with him, maybe a few more. He was handsome and a gentleman. He was the epitome of the American knight. Even thinking about that brought heat to my chest.
But my hesitation reflected in his expression, which slowly sank as I failed to answer.
"Simon," I said, putting my hand on his leg.
Doubt crept back into his gaze. He looked away. This wasn't the right time for the discussion, and we needed him. So I did what I needed to do in the moment. I lied.
"Yes," I said. "Yes, you can resume the courtship. I'm sorry, it's just not what I expected today. You know how complicated things are right now."
He let a breath out. "I wasn't asking for marriage, just to begin anew, when we have time after this."
"Yes, yes," I said. "When we have time."
"Good," he said. "Then I best be getting to the party. Temple wouldn't want me to be late, I assume."
I squeezed his leg and patted his horse. Simon gave a light kick and the creature trotted away. I savored the moment as he rode away looking back at me. It was picturesque. I could have imagined him in armor with his visor up, headed off to battle.
But real wars had no knights, or none like the Arthurian stories. There was no nobility in death. And battles were fought in the back rooms of palaces and Houses of Congress by those wielding only their tongue as a weapon.
As I crossed the street to the once empty lot where we'd built a shoddy construction, I thought back to the bogatyrs, the knights errant, of my homeland. The meaning between the Russian and the American knight was different.
The bogatyr was an adventurer who did great deeds, but their character might not be noble. Another meaning was that they were demi-gods, beings of considerable prowess that others aspired to be.
As I stepped through the front door of the mostly empty wooden building, I called out to a man who was a bogatyr in his own way, riding a mechanical horse made of steel.
"Djata," I said loudly.
The building had been so hastily constructed that it had a dirt floor. We wanted its destruction to be significantly impressive, so we'd stacked building materials inside. I assumed the scientist was somewhere behind the stacks of wood.
Djata propelled himself into view. He was seated in his wheelchair with a wooden box on his lap. He had strong arms and a keenly intelligent expression. In the wake of Simon's offer, I had a moment of regret that Djata had never offered to court me, though such formal utterances weren't his style. He had the level of intellect that intrigued me, even when it was used to throw verbal barbs.
"Katerina," he said, in a surprisingly respectful tone. "How fare you?"
"Not Princess?" I laughed as I walked around examining the building we would destroy. "I'm not sure how to act if you're not going to mock me."
Djata adjusted his tweed vest. "Would you prefer it?"
"Never mind my foolish words. It's been an odd day thus far, and I think it's gone to my head. Or maybe I'm just practicing Ben's virtue of mirth," I said.
He showed me a broad, earnest smile. "Do you have the gauntlet?"
I nodded and pulled the knapsack off and set it high on top of a pile of stacked wood so it wouldn't get dirty. "Everything looks finished here. Are you ready to fly the Mother's Hammer?"
Ben had named the airship that would carry the weapon as a joke, and it'd stuck.
<
br /> "Just a few things left," said Djata.
He nodded towards a couple of piles of materials at various points of the interior.
"What will those do?" I asked.
He shrugged modestly, a considerable feat given his usual arrogance. "Add a little flare to the destruction to put a proper amount of fear in our duplicitous congressmen."
"Well, then. I guess my role in this farce has come to an end," I said.
I thought I heard the sound of some creature near the west wall of materials. Maybe a dog or other critter taking refuge in the building. If there was, I would chase it out, so it wouldn't get caught in the destruction later on. "Nothing to do but watch from a safe distance and keep any curious souls from investigating this building."
Djata cleared his throat, motioning into his lap when I glanced over. "I seemed to have forgotten this parcel. Would you place it on the far side for me while I grab my things?"
I retrieved the box. We shared a moment's smile, and I thought about letting his strong hands explore my body. His gray eyes sparkled with amusement.
I marched to the location he had indicated on the east wall and set the box in the desired spot. Finished, I turned around to find Djata had already retrieved the knapsack. The silvery gauntlet was already on his fist.
"Farewell, Princess Katerina," said Djata as he extended his arm. A portal appeared in the space directly in front of him.
"Farewell and good..." I said, the words trailing to nothing.
A moment of dissonance stopped me in my tracks. Something was wrong and I couldn't pinpoint it, at first.
"Djata," I said, and he glanced up, pausing his roll forward. "How did you get the gauntlet from that stack of wood? It was out of your reach."
He opened his mouth as if to answer and then burst forward, jumping out of the wheelchair and leaping through the portal. I pulled out my pistol, but was too late to stop him.
I sprinted forward as the portal shimmered a moment before dissolution. As it winked out, I dove forward, just missing it. The wave of fleeting magic threw me into the dirt. I landed hard, knocking the breath from my lungs.
The Franklin Deception (The Dashkova Memoirs Book 4) Page 17
