Gaslight Magick

by Teel James Glenn

  “For an Englishman you have a terrible sense of time and place. All of this is out of order.”

  “Blame that on Aunt Mini,” I said. “She has been teaching me to disrupt the English order of things all my life.”

  “Let us discuss paths when we have saved Lord Chichua, baronet.”

  “Yes, when we have saved the ambassador.” I put my arm around her and we moved down to the riverbank. “So let us get to that, jaguar. Let us get to that.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Across the St. Lawrence

  I was not sure what to do next until I saw a sign down by the riverbank that said, “Bateau Volant.”

  “There!” I pointed at the sign and we headed off. Though it said ‘flying boat’ I knew it was what the locals called a “moustique’ or mosquito. It was a conveyance unique to the large rivers in Canada, to breach them in all weathers for regular passage between the shores.

  We headed down the riverbank to where a local road lead to a dock and the flying boat station. My jaguar companion stopped and gasped when she saw it.

  “What is that?” She said after an exclamation in her own Aztec tongue.

  The object of her confusion was indeed unique-- it was a pair of pontoon-like gas-bags with a row of simple whicker seats suspended between them. There was nothing more than a simple frame around them and a light windscreen before, but no carriage as such to save on weight. The ship was bobbing several feet above the dock.

  “The locals use it to get across the river faster than boats in all weather except the heaviest of winds,” I said. “Ice flows stop the boats, sometimes and the rivers don’t always freeze solid enough for sleds so they came up with this solution. Even in the cold air, if the load is not too heavy it can make the passage in a few minutes.” This sort of miniature airship had become the fastest, easiest way for the locals to cross the river for at least half the year, even with the construction of a new bridge underway.

  The operator of the river craft was a portly gentleman, a local who was just finishing his day’s work as darkness settled on the countryside. When he saw the two of us descending the dock he evidenced a little alarm.

  He was not very interested in ferrying two oddly dressed foreigners for a last trip across the river but I was able to persuade him, in a very un-gentlemanly way with my pistol. I had no intention of using it-- he was just a man making a living as best he could-- but he did not know it. Nenetl’s savage aspect and her scowl did even more than my threat to convince him to cooperate.

  We strapped into seats suspended under the gasbags with our poor ‘captain’ just ahead of us, fearing for his life from his ‘foufille’ passengers.

  “The question, my dear Nenetl is,” I said as we soared out over the ominous dark shapes of ice chunks in the St Lawrence River. “What shall we do when we get to the hotel where the dinner is being held?”

  “What do you mean,” she called to me. We were not moving too swiftly but the wind had come up once we were over the water. The temperature dropped as well and we were both shivering again despite our plundered attire.

  “The hotel will have Dominion Police security,” I said. “And His Highness, The Prince will have at least two ‘Rounders and a Merlin to protect him. And, of course the Iroquois will be with Ambassador Chichua. We have very little chance even of getting close to the hotel dressed like this.”

  “But—but-“

  “I know, it seems absurd,” I cut her off, “but how are any of the guards to believe who we are when the imposters that those blighters dispatched have all our papers? And possibly even been spelled to appear as us? I would worry that we might be detained until it is too late, or worse still, struck down by the very guards we came to warn.”

  She assumed a grim expression. “I will not let anyone stop me, I must stop them from harming Lord Chichua!”

  “I know,” I said. “But we are not personally known to any of the security there. Besides we do not know what our ‘doubles’ may do—or if there are others involved beside our doubles. Remember these fiends have cloaks of concealment.”

  “Will not your official court magician detect them?”

  “Most Merlins should,” I said, thinking back to the other magicians I had met over the years whose official designation was ‘Merlin’ after the first great mage that had helped establish the Pendragon line that still ruled my beloved Albion. “But I have met some who were more concerned with their political position than any arcane prowess. We cannot count on the assassins being detected- surely they would have anticipated a simple magickal sweep- if indeed they plan to use the cloaks. After all- why have doubles for us if they were going to slip close while cloaked?”

  The mosquito lived up to its name, from the buzzing of the rotor blade behind us to the way it seemed to flit up and down as it rode wind currents across the river, sometimes dipping so that it seemed we might be dancing along the chucks of ice in the river at any moment.

  “I do not like this,” Nenetl said flatly, her eyes on the river below as we dipped then rose once again.

  “I can’t say I disagree, my dear lady,” I said.

  As we approached the skyline of the city I had an inspiration. “Wait a minute, Nenetl, “ said, “ they were saying that we were to be found in a crashed airship, correct? So there must be a way that they could exit the hotel to get an airship.”

  “It would have to be small to be in the city,” she said, catching my meaning. “So there would be at least some crew to manage it before the assassins get into it.”

  “Then they would fly it to La Pairie, put us into it and crash it.” I said.

  “So if they have one there-“

  “We can get there,” I concluded.

  Then I called forward, “Mon Capitaine, I would like you to take us directly to the roof of the Hotel Windsor on Rue Peel, do you know where that is?”

  “But Monsieur, that is very illegal to travel above the city in this craft.”

  “I see no reason to change our method of operation at this point, my good man. Let our criminality soar, out of the frying pan directly into the fire for us!”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Double Trouble

  Our reluctant aerial chauffeur took us up from the river to head over the port and harbour section of the town. He was not happy about having to fly his ship over the city, nor have to manoeuvrer to the roof of the hotel building. The impressive six-story Windsor Hotel building that was in the heart of Montreal proper was our destination.

  As we approached it we could clearly see a small, dark shape of a small dirigible snugged to a corner of the roof and lashed down tight under a tarp.

  “They must have pre-planted it, “ I said, “They lashed it down and even when the ‘Rounders checked the roof it passed it off like it was a maintenance vehicle.”

  The ‘captain’ of our own hijacked craft was good at his job and was able to hover some five feet off the tar covered roof to deposit us on the top of the hotel. The dark of night and any lack of illumination had concealed our approach from below.

  “I promise, monsieur Capitan,” I said as I unbuckled my safety belt to jump down. “That if you speak to the Crown officers about this evening and use the name of Baronet Grey you will have no troubles with you license. You simply tell them I forced you.”

  He looked at me with a his bushy back brows knitted and simply hissed, “Tabernacle”

  “I will also give you a substantial remuneration for your trouble on this trip should things work out. I shall reward you myself for faithful and excellent service.”

  Before he could ask me what I meant by that I hopped off the seat and landed softly on the roof. Nenetl dropped beside me with cat-like agility, showing no sign of favouring her injured leg.

  The commuter air ship rose without our weight and the captain made use of the movement to power the ship away.

  It was just me and my jaguar companion now.

  “What now, Baronet?”


  I was not sure how to answer her till I saw movement by the tarp that covered the ‘escape’ dirigible. She saw it as well and immediately went into a predator’s crouch, moving off to the right.

  I moved toward the left studying where I had seen the movement. It was a tie-down on the tarp that seemed to be unraveling itself.

  “Cloaked!” I thought and by squinting could see a slight distortion in the moon shadow of the tie-cable on the roof surface.

  I pointed. “At the tie-down!” I whispered.

  A dark figure flew out of the night and slammed into the apparently empty space over the tie-down as Nenetl collided with the cloaked individual.

  I raced over just as she pulled the cloak off of a fellow in a airship pilot’s uniform. I reached the two of them as they struggled and clubbed the chap with my pistol.

  “He was preparing for their escape,” I said as we bound the man. Now that we were under the craft we could see it was not much bigger than a carriage, a small gondola, just big enough for three hung beneath twin cigar-shaped gasbags.

  “Shall we take his cloak?” she asked.

  “No, if we get to close to the Prince his Merlin’s magick wards would alert them,” I said. “No doubt why this man stayed up here to prepare the escape.”

  The door from the roof to the hotel below was no problem to open as one no one expected any threat from above in such a hallowed establishment.

  Once inside the stairwell both of us took a few moments to warm up our near frozen fingers and toes and then decided that our stolen footwear was more hindrance than help now that we had carpet beneath our feet so we removed the boots.

  The Windsor was the premier hotel in the Dominion so the halls were plush and even the staircase had a fine carpet on it. We hurried down the wide steps, encountering no one for the first three floors.

  “Do you remember where this dinner will be held?” Nenetl asked as we raced down.

  “The invitation said the grand ballroom,” I said. “But I am certain we will not be allowed through the main doors dressed like this.” I tried to remember the layout of other such premier hotels and an idea occurred to me.

  “We might find it easier to enter through a servant’s corridor, such places have many and we might even find some sort of disguises there.”

  We continued down till the third floor where we headed into the corridors. We had been lucky to encounter no one in the stairwell but I knew our luck could not last. I also knew we must locate a back stairs. We found the service stairs with little trouble and moved down them with some new caution as we were now hearing activity ahead.

  We looked in some of the floors as we descended, but the halls were empty, as most who were heading to dinner had done so.

  Finally we arrived at the mezzanine floor that I was sure would lead us to the ballroom. We stopped and cracked the door to peer inside. It was empty, so we slipped into the hall and moved cautiously along the corridor.

  “Wait,” Nenetl mouthed, throwing a hand up. We flattened against a wall. Around a bend in the corridor I could hear a door swinging and multiple footsteps.

  I slipped ahead of her and knelt low to peer around the edge. There was a guard in a Dominion Police red jacket standing at a relaxed attention while servants went in and out of a set of swinging doors into what I assumed was the ballroom.

  When the doors opened for a moment I could glimpse a large room and could hear the din of many voices above the sound of an orchestra playing.

  “That is the ballroom,” I mouthed to Nenetl. She motioned as if to slit the guard’s throat. I shook my head ‘no’ and mimed a knockout blow.

  My bloodthirsty companion smiled and then doffed her coat to reveal her naked upper torso. When I raised an eyebrow she stood up and walked calmly but swiftly around the corridor toward the guard.

  I watched the eyes of the constable widen with shock when he saw the near naked Aztec. Before he could even draw breath to question her she sprang with the swiftness of her jaguar namesake and struck him under the ear. He dropped as if poleaxed.

  I was up and moving as she caught his unconscious form.

  “Good show!” I said. We dragged the officer to a nearby closet, secured him and locked him in, all the while keeping an eye out for any more serving staff.

  “You Englishmen are so easily distracted by nudity,” she whispered as we slipped through the doors the constable had been guarding.

  “Only by beauty, dear lady,” I offered gallantly which got a smile from her. Then her eyes went wide as she saw where we were.

  I have to agree with her that the sight was spectacular.

  We had come out onto the wide gallery that ran around the grand ballroom that was the size of two football pitches and a full two stories tall under a vaulted ceiling from which hung two crystal chandeliers. Bunting with the royal colours, the Union Jack and the Canadian flag was draped from the whole of the gallery and gave it a festive look.

  Across the way on the same level as us a ten-piece orchestra played and filling the cavernous space with soft music. Servants came and went down to the ballroom floor via a staircase to the left of the swinging doors we had entered. They were too busy with their burdens to notice that we were there or that the constable was gone.

  We secreted ourselves in the shadow of a broad pillar and spied on the scene below; tables had been set up along the sides of the room with a dais at the head of the room. On the Dais were Crown Prince Edward, the Governor of Quebec, Montreal’s Mayor, and other dignitaries. Ambassador Chichua and his wife Lady Tozi were dressed in splendid feathered robes and looked regal as they chatted easily with the Prince and those around them.

  I could clearly see the Iroquois guards for the Ambassador standing statue still and alert behind the dais and several uniform constables along the walls. I was sure there were plainclothes men as well, the memory of the White Horse Rebellion was still fresh and local sentiment was not with the maternal rule from London. It was part of the reason for the Crown Prince’s visit to reassure the Commonwealth that they were not an ‘afterthought’ when decisions for the Empire were being made.

  “Who are those?” Nenetl whispered pointing to the most impressive figures on the floor, two individuals that stood close to seven feet in height, all dressed in long white leather uniform coats and wearing white, full face-concealing hoods.

  “They are ‘Rounders,” I whispered. “Troopers of the Order of the Knights of the Round Table. Several of them always travel with each member of the Royal family. Much as the jaguars do for the ambassador and his wife.”

  “Why are they masked?”

  “No one ever sees their faces. It protects them from anyone being able to pressure them with their family. No one knows who they really are.”

  “But such guards should be incorruptible in all circumstances,” Nenetl said.

  “Eztl was not,” I said and saw pain in her expression from bringing up her fellow jaguar.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I did not mean to impugn the honour of the jaguars: I know that was an aberration; but humans are fallible, in any culture.”

  She kept her eyes focused down on the floor below but I could see her jaw clench. I was about to try to attempt to mitigate my blunder again when she said, “Is that not your Aunt, Lady Camden at the second table?”

  My Aunt Minerva, wearing a golden gown and a hat with a large feather in it, was seated, chatting with several people beside two empty seats which, I knew had been reserved for Nenetl and myself. She was talking to the Malian who had so callously sentenced us to death, Mister Sundiat!

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Masks and Mayhem

  “Of all the deuced audacity!” I exclaimed, “Mini is talking to the man who had us kidnapped. And it is a sure bet that no imposters would fool her so our doubles cannot take their seats near her. I suppose physical imposters are the only way they think this whole pantomime could work; any magickal means, whether an imposter spell or invisibil
ity cloak would surely be detected by the Merlin.”

  “So why would they think our doubles would have value?” Nenetl said. “It is possible they are not really the main attack?” Her warrior mind was thinking strategically as was mine, but could not fathom how kidnapping us could have benefit.

  Movement near Mini caught my eye. Two figures were walking along the outer edge of the tables toward the dais. I found myself having an eerie sense of double vision as I saw the two; they were near perfect doubles for myself and Nenetl!

  From a distance they certainly would pass for the two of us and I noted that they kept well away from my Aunt Minerva. While we watched the two moved with casual nonchalance up toward the dais.

  “We were right, look alike actors in make up,” l said softly. “Most security is so concerned with some form of magickal spell they do not even consider simply getting someone who fits the descriptions on our identity papers to subvert all the Merlin’s protections.”

  “We have to stop them!” Nenetl whispered and started to rise but I put a hand on her arm. “The are getting close to Ambassador.”

  “No,” I said, “Not yet, it can not be so simple. We should wait till we see what the plan is—those guards will stop us as surely as if we were the assassins!”

  At that moment along the back wall of the ballroom as if in answer to my questions and directly below the orchestra’s position on the second floor, three men suddenly appeared from where no one had been the moment before. The three men threw off cloaks of concealment.

  How they got their cloaks into the hotel past the Merlin’s wards was just part of the reason that confounded all in the room. The other was that they also carried strange weapons that looked like conventional rifles that had drums attached beneath them.

  One of the men screamed “Un de memoire et ce heros c’est le Louis Riel et Gabriel Dumont!” And they fired in the air and then began to fire their weapons with a Gatling gun rapidity that was nightmarish.