The Dormant (The Sublime Electricity Book #4)

by Pavel Kornev

  "That was part of it," the Princess confirmed. "But not all. The true goal was not to allow the emergence of a dynasty of illustrious, not to allow all that cursed blood to gather in one person, even if it was many centuries later. That was the very reason I was not allowed illustrious suitors."

  In any other circumstance, my cousin's words would have seemed foolish enough to make me laugh. But now, under the effect of an unknown drug, I imagined myself drifting between the stars and so, with unexpected calm, I asked:

  "And what's the problem with that? What would happen if someone gathered too much power inside them?"

  "It would awaken the dormant and curse the apostates. All of us, all humanity."

  I chuckled.

  "The reductionists invent astonishing fantasies when trying to say whether a higher power exists! We had no choice but to recast the prophecy of the coming of the antichrist in our own image!"

  "It is no fantasy!" the Princess shot out sharply. "What do you know about the laws of inheritance? About the accumulation of metals in human organs? About the mutation of living organisms under the influence of various types of radiation? Darwin's theory, in the end?!"

  "Empty words!"

  "Nothing of the sort! I personally read a report which scientifically established that, if enough nonrelated illustrious interbreed, a superhuman would be born."

  "A superhuman?"

  "Reductionists!" the Princess furrowed her brow. "They hide from the truth behind numbers and formulas. A curse is dormant in our blood, cousin! Or do you seriously suppose that a fallen one can be killed by simply cutting out its heart with a titanium blade?"

  "They say the power of the fallen carries an imprint of their will," I noted neutrally, thinking of how to draw out time. If the Princess didn't manage to tell me the name of her victim before I woke up, I'd have at least another twelve-hour break.

  "The fallen are power itself! They didn't die, didn't disappear without a trace, they were simply dissolved in us, in the illustrious!"

  "All New Babylon was awash in the blood of the fallen," I replied, watching the ball of earth, enshrouded in whitish haze. "Tens of thousands bathed in it! Three quarters of them died from the Diabolic Plague in the first months after the overthrow of the fallen. How many of them died childless as a result? In the current illustrious, there is nothing but a miserable remnant of their bygone power!"

  "That isn't the case at all, dear cousin," Princess Anna objected. "The ones who died are those who were burned by poison, not those left with the power."

  "How do you mean?"

  "People feared the fallen even after they had lost all their abilities. They were afraid of attracting their predeath curse, and titanium blades were few and far between in the capital."

  "And what of it?"

  "The blood that flooded the streets of New Babylon was human! The old aristocracy defended their sovereigns to the very last. Some garrisons and military divisions also fought on their side. There were battles in the city, but few of the fallen were killed in those confrontations. With rare exception, they were not killed, but executed. And there were only a few executioners in the whole city."

  I mentally nodded. The squares of New Babylon were red not only from the natural color of granite, but also because of the blood of the fallen locked up inside the stone. In my childhood, any old waif knew the execution sites by heart. Tor a half a franc, they would take any curious tourist around to Palace Square, Emperor Clement Square or Brown Bridge. And for more generous compensation they would go to the less famous, but no less bloody ones in the back alleys of the Old City.

  "It was the executioners who took the lion's share of the power of the fallen," Princess Anna continued. "Some fell to their assistants and guards, but the simple city dwellers raging on the blood-soaked squares got very, very little."

  "They were cursed all the same, though," I chuckled unhappily.

  "Not cursed, but poisoned," my cousin corrected me. "By the way, we aren't talking about that. My grandfather executed fallen on Emperor's square, and his brother in Riverfort."

  The Princess was referring to the Duke of Arabia, who had unofficially fathered my mother. That fact gave birth to her fears that there was too much power of the fallen in us.

  "Nonsense!" I doubted. But I couldn't refute her mad tale so quickly and fell silent, choosing my words more carefully. But after that, a blinding luster came up under my feet, fully drowning out the blaze of the sun and mixing with the darkness, emanating upward around the Princess.

  In her dream, my cousin fancied herself a winged woman with immodestly mature forms, but I was not interested in her naked body. My back was pierced by an unbearable pain from God knows where. A huge hump emerged between my shoulders, my skin burst, and two angel wings tore outward. With a light flap, they straightened out. Blood spattered off them and hovered in space as weightless droplets.

  I screamed in unbearable torment, but the rays of the sun struck my widely spread wings and pushed them like the wind pushes the sails of a ship. I was spun and cast away, the reality of this dream faded, and I shot downward like a blistering arrow, straight for the earth.

  "He awakens!" my cousin shouted, falling next to me.

  Her wings folded skillfully, and she tore first into the atmosphere of the planet. I meanwhile, froze in expectation of a forceful impact with the air but instead, I felt a raging fire. In the blink of an eye, the Princess and I raced over Continental Europe, crossed the gulf and plunged down into New Babylon like two fiery comets.

  Over the very roofs of the buildings, the Princess spread her wings and evened out her flight. I followed her example and accidentally knocked a tower off a castle but held myself in the air and dashed over the flaming city after my cousin.

  Instead of shadows, we left rivers of fire on the earth in our wake...

  I SHUDDERED AWAKE on the back seat of a self-propelled carriage which, as before, was driving the forking streets of the Old City.

  "Curses!" I exhaled, barely able to turn my dried-out tongue. "Now that’s what I call the devil..."

  Then I glanced at the seat opposite mine and froze with my mouth open wide. There was a fragile young girl looking at me with clear bright illustrious eyes. Her skin was so pale it was as if the rays of the sun had never fallen on it.

  "Your Highness..." I hesitated and only then realized I was not truly awake and just had gone from one dream into another.

  "Drop the formalities, cousin!" Princess Anna laughed. "You don't object to me spending some time in your dream? Mine smells unbearably of char."

  "And sulfur," I said, having caught the familiar scent, and also the reek of burning flesh and something else even more disgusting.

  "And sulfur," my cousin confirmed.

  "Why all that? Why jump from one dream to another like fleas on stray dogs?"

  "You have a rich imagination, cousin. Probably that is what awoke it..."

  "Balderdash! It is simply a nightmare that lurks in your subconscious! Phobia. Fear. Insecurity. Get rid of it! Get rid of it and live calmly!"

  "We aren't talking about me now!" my cousin grew angry, her pale cheeks tinged by a light feverish blush. "You gave your word..."

  "I did."

  "...and you must kill Duke Logrin!"

  I had to kill the Regent? Did I really have to?!

  "You gave your word!" the Princess repeated.

  "Bugger!" I exhaled, falling back powerless in the seat and tearing open the collar of my shirt, which had suddenly grown too tight.

  I was obliged to fulfill my cousin's request. For the illustrious, one's word is not a mere sound. Give an oath, and it becomes an obligation one is forever bound by.

  I squeezed my head in my hands, turned my head then shot up and asked:

  "Why do you need that?"

  "Is the reason so important?"

  "What do you think?" I couldn't hold back. "Yes! Naturally it's important!"

  The Princess's pale face remaine
d fearless.

  "Do you have such a need to feel right all the time?" she inquired with a slight shade of contempt. "The Duke is a usurper. Is that not enough for you?"

  "That's just one person's word!"

  "It's the word of an heiress to the throne!" My cousin shouted, and her eyes started glimmering with a colorless flame. "Is my word not enough?! Really?"

  "No, but..."

  The Princess didn't let me finish.

  "He won't let my doctors see me!" she announced. "My personal doctors! The quacks the Duke hired don't know anything about operating on hearts, their job is to support me in a stable condition and nothing more. But I don't want to spend the next half century in a coma! I don't!"

  "Alright!" I threw my open hands out before me. "You suspect the Duke of betrayal. Why don't you go straight to the Imperial Council?"

  "It's all gone too far. I cannot trust anyone."

  "But can you trust me?"

  "If the Duke finds out about your existence, he will destroy you. You, cousin, I can trust."

  I couldn't find the words to answer, just asked:

  "And you also have no influence with the police?"

  The Princess shook her head.

  "Von Nalz was a good man, but the Duke has placed one of his people in that position. Why do you ask?"

  "A misunderstanding," I winced and asked: "Do you realize I do not have the slightest chance of success? I cannot simply waltz into the Palace."

  "And you will not have to," Princess Anna answered. "Tomorrow at midday, the Duke will visit the Imperial Mint. He will agree with the inspector on designs for memorial coins."

  "Is that for certain?"

  "The visit was planned last week. I managed to extract this intelligence from the dream of one of his assistants."

  "You cannot get into the regent's head?"

  My cousin cringed.

  "No, the Duke, prudently, does not dream."

  "How is this possible?"

  "Do you want to know the name of the pills?" Princess Anna smiled. "No, cousin, they will not help an illustrious man with an imagination like yours. It would be easier just to sink a bullet right into your skull."

  "I may have to do just that if the attempt fails."

  "Well, do everything in your power so it doesn’t fail!" my cousin threw out. "The Duke's carriage is not armored. You can recognize it by the coat of arms on the doors. How you act is up to you. Just don't forget what's riding on this! You will not get a second chance! If you help me, I will fix all your problems with the police."

  "Do you promise?"

  "They will no longer bother you."

  I nodded, threw open the door of the self-propelled carriage and fell out into soft gray nothingness.

  2

  IT’S HAPPENED before that I fell asleep under one circumstance, and woke up in another, but my location has never changed while at rest. As a rule, where I fell asleep has always been where I woke up.

  But this time, I went down on the luxurious seat of a self-propelled carriage and woke up on a stone embankment under a bridge over the Yarden. My head had been thoughtfully placed on the case I'd stolen from the Irish killer, and my hands were holding the pill-bottle of the lady-in-waiting's fantastically effective tablets.

  "Eat me!" said the inscription on the unevenly-adhered piece of paper. It was a woman's handwriting.

  I wanted to throw the pill bottle into the river but changed my mind and stuck it in my pocket. After that, I sat up on the cold stones and touched my face; there were traces of bright red lipstick on my fingers. The lady-in-waiting had kept her word.

  "May your life be empty!" I cursed mildly, rubbing my cheek with a handkerchief and pulling my revolver from my pocket. I popped it open to make sure all the bullets were in place and hid it back.

  There was a ringing emptiness in my head. I don't know how long I sat under the bridge but eventually, I saw two constables looming on the other side of it. I had to stand up and shuffle off down the embankment in the opposite direction.

  Fortunately, the police were not interested in me.

  THE LEATHER COAT was not the greatest protection from cold and, after sleeping on the rocks, my body was stiff as a board, and snot was pouring from my nose. So, when I came across a street cafe, I went in and ordered a mug of hot mulled wine. I asked them to bring a couple waffles with whipped cream to go with it then, with a wave of my hand, called over a boy hauling a stack of newspapers on his shoulder. A fresh edition of the Atlantic Telegraph ran me ten centimes.

  I finishing the warm spiced wine and unfolded the newspaper. Without particular surprise, I saw that the whole first column was dedicated to the murder of Inspector General Friedrich von Nalz.

  Somewhere in the depths of my soul, a thought perked up that this news must have come as quite a shock to his poor daughter, but memories of my past love didn't occupy me for long. The further I went, the more my feelings for Elizabeth-Maria von Nalz seemed like just a hellish obsession.

  And really what did I have to worry about here? She had a husband and would be fine.

  But as for me... I had total uncertainty before me. And the near future didn't seem to promise anything good even in the best-case scenario.

  Kill the regent, just think! By the way... what if I did think?

  I took a sip of the mulled wine, which was now growing cold, gobbled down a crispy waffle with a surprisingly strong appetite, and started thinking over my cousin's words. She said the regent had designs on the throne. No matter how I wanted to find moral justifications to murder him, I couldn't find any.

  Although, as Empress, would it not be in her power to punish and pardon at her own discretion? Princess Anna had told me as much totally unambiguously.

  Devil! I was sure the anarchist wasn't troubled by such doubts when he threw a bomb into the carriage of the inspector general. He just threw it and that was that. But as for Dostoevskian moral agony such as, "whether I am a trembling creature, or whether I have the right," that was for those of subtle and sensitive nature like me. Always doubting my thoughts even when right; was that not a refined form of torture? Any other person in my place would take and fulfill the order of the heiress to the throne with a light heart, but I was tormented!

  To hell with all that! Anarchists with their fanatical allegiance to idealism had it unspeakably easier...

  Stop! Anarchists?

  Instantly forgetting the headache, I finished the mulled wine in a few sips and, leaving the second waffle untouched, paid my bills. After that, I crossed the street and bought a tin of orange sugar drops that caught my eye in a pharmacy, meanwhile asking to use the telephone.

  A gray-haired old man in a severe frock coat gave a good-natured nod and I took the phone off the hook however, to my greatest pity, Ramon was not in the office; one of his many cousins answered the call.

  "Ramon isn't here, and I can't say when he'll be back," he said. "What shall I tell him?"

  Considering that Department Three could tap phones, it would have been ridiculously stupid to say where I was, but that didn't change the fact that I urgently needed to meet with my former partner.

  "Have him wait for me in the place where we first started our search for Procrustes," I said and added: "And tell him to come alone."

  "Alright, I'll tell him," the man answered phlegmatically and hung up.

  All that remained was to hope that he wasn't being held in the sights of a Department Three investigator. Although, if that did worsen my position, it wasn't by much. A description of the illustrious Leopold Orso had likely already been sent out to all police stations. But arresting a person in the Emperor's Park would necessitate a full-scale raid.

  I'd get out of it.

  THE EMPEROR'S PARK was a green oasis in the dead kingdom of stone and iron that was New Babylon. That said, it wasn't too green these days. Due to the constant smog and factory emissions, the dry yellowing leaves were covered with a layer of gray. And yet, the trees clung stubbornly
to life and, even on the hottest and most windless summer days, the air there was not quite so red-hot and smoky as in the surrounding streets.

  On one side, the park was bordered by a train track. The others were crowded with residential buildings. Even the most notorious reductionists wouldn't dream of proposing to build up this piece of free land. And if some innovator was nursing such intentions, he wisely didn't trot them out at public hearings.

  I could not claim to know the Emperor's Park like the back of my hand, but I could easily count on crossing it by old memory without getting lost on its shady paths. Then, getting through one of the many holes in its fence onto the tracks and jumping on a passing freight train was no trouble at all.

  But I was not considering dirigibles. Airships with their powerful optics and observers could easily surveil the external bounds of the park and send a semaphore to terrestrial units if they saw a runaway from the air.

  That came into my head only when I saw an army blimp with the imperial coat of arms and vertical stabilizers drifting slowly overhead. As bad luck would have it, today was a clear and windy day, and the smog was blown off the streets. The only place where the sky remained gray with smoke was the factory outskirts.

  Throwing a cabby a two-franc coin, I left the carriage at the park gates and looked thoughtfully into the sky. The dirigible was going unhurriedly toward the Central Train Station. It wasn't after me.

  But it wouldn't be wise to write off the possibility.

  Paranoia?

  Please! For a person officially wanted by Department Three, paranoia is the only allowable form of thought, the only way to avoid being thrown behind bars in the first few hours.

  So, I didn't go into the park. Instead, I admired the crowns of the trees and cast-iron fence and bought a glass of carbonated water from a hawker. I finished it and ducked down a side street with a view of the gates where Ramon and I had met last time. On the way, I stopped a grubby boy and told him to keep watch for a red-faced short gentleman in a uniform cloak without patches. I told the boy to send Ramon to the hotel where our first encounter with the werebeast had taken place. I handed the boy two francs and a quarter, and we parted ways, both entirely satisfied with our arrangement.