by Tim Susman
Alice went to have her wound dressed properly while Lowell continued to brief Jackson, paying the Kip and Malcolm little attention. Kip listened long enough to hear Lowell give him a surprising amount of credit for their victory and then lapsed into his own thoughts. “There’s no need to hold the river,” he said to Malcolm quietly after a moment.
“You don’t think Peachtree worth defending?” Malcolm asked.
“There’s nothing there to defend anymore. They got what they wanted.” Kip glanced at the door through which the badger-Calatians had been escorted.
“They wanted to steal the Calatians? But why? What did the ones in Peachtree have that the others in New York and Boston don’t?”
“Or New Cambridge,” Kip said, rubbing his whiskers.
“You don’t suppose your parents were the cause?”
The fox shook his head, ears going back. “As much as they would like me to feel that important…no, they would have taken only my parents in that case. Why evacuate the whole town?”
“Why put them all onto a boat, for that matter?”
“Easier to defend a small swiftly moving boat than a whole town, if you wanted the whole town.” Kip slumped back in his chair. “Maybe there was some piece of information but they didn’t know who knew it?”
“About calyxes, perhaps? More calyxes there but anywhere except…”
“New Cambridge.” Kip turned toward Malcolm. “What if…what if Albright wasn’t looking for me, back at the church? Or not only me? What if he was looking for all the Calatians?”
Malcolm hissed a breath through his teeth. “They were all in the church.”
“Which you’d warded.” Kip stood quickly, the fatigue of the day burned away in a flash of worry, and strode toward Jackson and Lowell.
Both men turned to look at him. Lowell finished what he was saying and then tilted his head to acknowledge Kip. “Penfold, what is it?”
“Sir, the British targeted Peachtree and kidnapped the Calatians there for a reason. We know Albright can get to New Cambridge. Do we have soldiers there, anyone watching the town?”
Jackson frowned. “The college has already been raided. Why would we?”
“Please.” A piece of paper fluttered between Kip’s paws to the floor; he ignored it. “Let me talk to the Calatians who appeared here and then send someone to New Cambridge. It doesn’t have to be me.”
“What’s that?” Jackson pointed to the paper.
“A message from Emily Carswell, I suppose,” Kip said, keeping his eyes locked on Jackson’s.
The Master Colonel exhaled. “Penfold, do you know how short of men we are? Why would I waste a unit guarding a town of no strategic importance?”
“You thought Peachtree was of no strategic importance, but the British sent men there and took it.”
Jackson considered this, and Lowell chimed in. “He’s right, sir. Perhaps it’s worth a short time to question the Calatians and prepare a unit to be stationed there. Not a full fighting unit, but at least one that can come back and warn us if they’re attacked.”
“Yes, fine. Lowell, you coordinate the unit, bring it to me for approval. Now, once you’d secured the ships…”
Lowell went on with his briefing. Kip, relieved, stooped to pick up the paper and stepped back toward Malcolm. “Good job,” Malcolm said.
“Penfold,” Jackson called. “I’ll see that message.”
Kip held it out. “It says she’s going to come visit us in ten minutes.”
Jackson read it and handed it back. “Very well, then, you and O’Brien will remain here. I would like to have a word with Miss Carswell.”
That was almost sure not to go well, but Kip had gotten the concession on New Cambridge and he didn’t feel like arguing further. Emily could take that up with Jackson when she arrived.
Malcolm was of the same mind. “Good lad,” he said softly when Kip returned to his side. “I’ve half a mind to summon Daravont again so I can watch the expressions.”
Kip half-smiled. “Should we tell her when she arrives to come back later? I want to talk to those Calatians.”
“Lowell’s going to send someone to New Cambridge,” Malcolm pointed out, “and Emily’s not likely to stay longer than an hour. We can spare that.”
“I could go to New Cambridge now.”
Malcolm put a hand on Kip’s shoulder. “You could also rest for the time it takes Emily to tell her story. We’ve been through a good deal already today, and we haven’t eaten properly. There’s no use you showing up half-dead on your feet.” He paused. “And I promise those words are true, and not only because I wish to see her.”
Kip exhaled. It was true, some time off his feet with a bit of food would be most welcome. “I’d like for Alice to be here.”
“Once Emily arrives, you can go fetch her, and I wager she’ll still be arguing with him,” he inclined his head toward Jackson, “by the time you return.”
Indeed, when Emily arrived, her first question was not to Kip, but to Master Colonel Jackson. Upon orienting herself and seeing Jackson open his mouth to address her, she snapped quickly, “Good day, sir. I presume you’ve been discussing important business with my friends, so can you tell me how much longer you’ll be keeping them? I’m happy to wait but I must return soon.”
She was learning something from being around diplomats, Kip could see. “I’ll just go to see if Alice is done,” he said. “If you’ll excuse me?”
Jackson waved him irritably away, and as Kip left he heard the Master Colonel say, “If you have progress to report from Abigail Adams’ delegation, you may tell me first.”
“I only want to talk to my friends,” Emily replied.
“And yet your story may be important…” And then the door closed behind him.
He found Alice still waiting for the healer, one paw holding the bandage over her leg. A bit of blood had soaked through, but the stain was a rusty red, not the bright glistening of fresh blood. “He’s tending to a lot of the wounded from Savannah still,” she said. “People who are much worse hurt. I’m fine. It barely even hurts anymore.”
“Can you walk on it?” Kip asked, half-teasingly. “Emily’s here.”
Alice brightened. “Yes, of course. I told you it doesn’t hurt.” But when she got up, he noticed that she treated the hurt leg more gingerly, not quite favoring it but not completely confident in it either. He didn’t say anything; Alice had earned the right to evaluate her own injury.
“You did wonderfully,” he said as they walked down the hallway. She turned up to smile at him. “Both in Savannah—on the ship—and at the river. I haven’t taught you many spells that would be useful in battle, but you’ve made the most of what you’ve learned, and gone beyond what I’ve taught you. When we have time, I want to hear about summoning the air elemental.”
“Of course.” They descended the staircase, slowly at first, and then faster as Alice gained confidence in her leg. “Is Colonel Jackson furious?”
“He was at first, but I think Captain Lowell and I—mostly Captain Lowell—have made him understand that something important is going on here.”
“Good.” Alice touched his arm to stop him before they went into the dining room. “You’ve done really well, too. We were captured and you got us to work together to get free. We got away from Albright and we rescued at least two Calatians from Peachtree. They might be able to tell us something.”
“Probably they won’t,” Kip said, his ears flushing warm.
“Regardless, they’re not in British prison or whatever happens to people captured in war. And you convinced Lowell to go there, and you told us how to get away from the ship. I think you’re a much better leader than you let yourself believe.”
“I’m not leading anyone. Captain Lowell is.”
“But you’re helping him, and when he’s not there…” Alice snorted and shook her head, putting her ears back. “I’m trying to pay you a compliment.”
“Sorry.” Kip smiled. “T
hank you.”
“That’s better. Now let’s go in.”
The tableau in the dining room made Kip stop just inside the door. Emily sat next to Jackson at the large table, with Lowell sitting on the end and Malcolm across from them. Nobody looked particularly happy, except for Malcolm chewing on some of the bread and cheese that had been brought in.
Kip and Alice sat and reached for the food without anyone uttering a word, though the slight smile he got as Malcolm turned his head told him that he’d missed a good argument indeed. Finally Emily broke the silence to say, “It’s good to see you again, Alice. Master Colonel Jackson and I,” and she enunciated the title so carefully that Kip knew for certain she’d said it incorrectly while he’d been gone, “have reached an agreement whereby he will remain in the room while I tell you the bulk of my story, and after that he will leave us five minutes to speak privately, as befits friends.”
“Thank you, sir.” Kip inclined his head toward Jackson and then folded a piece of bread around the soft cheese and ate. He swallowed and reached for more bread; his stomach seemed to have woken and realized that it had been hours since their small, simple breakfast.
“Very well,” Emily said, looking at Kip and Malcolm and not at all toward Jackson. “As you know, we’d gone from Spain to France. While in Spain, of course, I met Victor Adamson, an old acquaintance of ours who seems to have allied himself with the British side, to nobody’s surprise. And you also won’t be surprised to learn that I encountered him again…”
I didn’t have to go spy on anyone this time. Abigail told me that we already know quite a bit about the French fleet, so my job was to get to know the French sorcerers and feel out their sympathies.
France is a beautiful country, but it seems caught at the moment between two pasts. There are the extravagant kings who ruled up until Louis the Sixteenth, and then there was Napoleon and his sorcerer-based government. Louis the Eighteenth is on the throne right now, but he was put there by us—rather, by the British—and he seems as uncomfortable with this as everyone else is. When we were received, he was there, so it wasn’t like with Spain at all. He didn’t do much of the talking, but it didn’t feel like he had other people speak for him. It was more like he didn’t have anything to say and didn’t want to interrupt the real decision-makers.
He received us in the palace of Versailles, which we were told they are working on restoring after it fell into disrepair under Napoleon. France doesn’t have a lot of money and yet they are gilding statues and commissioning new works of art. Some of the sorcerers told me that people in Paris—all the cities, but Paris especially—are short of food, so it doesn’t seem like things are going well there overall.
So there we were in the palace of the old kings while the actual king received us surrounded by the same kinds of ministers that Napoleon used. Abigail told me afterwards that it seemed to confuse even them, and that she wasn’t surprised they didn’t offer us any assistance because they could hardly all agree on who was to speak next, let alone on taking action as a unified country.
In any event, I didn’t attend many of those meetings. I asked to talk to some of the French Masters at their Université de Sorcerie, which is in Paris proper—Versailles is south of the city. It took a day or two but at least the Université knows who is in charge, and when I told them I was part of the American diplomatic delegation, the Maître Premier—I suppose that’s First Master or maybe Prime Master literally, but it means Headmaster—invited me to come talk to the sorcerers.
So you see, none of this was spying like I’d done in Spain. I wasn’t asking to talk to military sorcerers, and it was all above board and officially requested. I followed all of their protocols, and I even brought a translator along, a little weaselly man—I’m sorry, is that improper to say? A leering, oily man, then, who kept trying to touch me the whole time we were together. Really, Malcolm. I didn’t let him, of course, but it was annoying all the same. I’d be having a perfectly fine conversation through him with a sorcerer and when he turned to give the answer, his hand would somehow find its way to my arm or waist. I always had to be on the lookout for it.
The Université is in a fortress called the Bastille Saint-Antoine that was formerly a prison until Napoleon freed the prisoners and offered it to his sorcerers. There’s a quotation of his over the gates, something like, “as this fortress once protected our city so shall you now protect our land.” They’ve made the interior much nicer than I imagine it was in its prison days, but it’s still very close and cramped and smells of phosphorus elemental and raven all over.
Most of the French sorcerers are very like the British ones, absorbed in their own studies, and I don’t think most of them even notice that there aren’t many windows. Those I spoke to mostly wanted to ask me about British practices, and don’t worry, I didn’t give anything away about demons, which was what they really wanted to hear about. I told them very truthfully that I hadn’t much experience at all. We talked about translocational magic a little, if they knew it, and they were very interested in calyxes, but I didn’t tell them anything about that either.
No, Alice, there are no Calatians in most of Europe. Only Spain, outside of England. Most of the calyxes in the world are in the British Empire.
In any case, most of them were pleasant, but when I wouldn’t tell them anything about calyxes they lost interest. One or two of the younger ones had another kind of interest and I quashed that quickly enough. There was one fellow, a Master Debroussard, who is a translocational sorcerer, and he thought it was wonderful that a woman had learned sorcery. He talked very seriously about adding women to the French Université. “If we act quickly, we may keep pace with or even pull ahead of Holland, Prussia, and Austria, and perhaps even Spain one day,” he said. He was very kind and said I was welcome to appear in his office anytime I wanted to visit Paris. Apparently when translocational sorcerers who have ravens want to visit each other, they send the raven ahead to ask if the time is convenient, which is much nicer than pieces of paper, but I told him that we hadn’t been confirmed as full masters yet and in fact that all of our masters had been kidnapped and were prisoners of war, and therefore we didn’t have ravens. He offered to get me a raven, but it sounded like that would take a while and I said I would prefer that we win the war and then I could get one the proper way.
No, I don’t think he was trying to get in my good graces like that. Trust me, there are enough of those kinds of men that I recognize when someone’s being friendly. Master Debroussard was that, but he was far from the only one sympathetic to our cause. There’s no love between the French and the British, but the sorcerers in the Université and in the military really hate the British. They still revere Napoleon, and the British not only defeated him, but humiliated him. So they said that if there’s anything they can do to help, they would, but also they’re bound to follow what their government says because the country’s very weak right now and they know if they draw France into the war, it could be disastrous.
I told you I saw Victor again. He didn’t get invited to the Université as far as I know. The British delegation wasn’t foolish enough to go to France for assistance. I think they were mostly there to threaten them. Master Plainfield told me that the French sorcerers were no trouble at all, but that he had to warn Abigail twice about the British sorcerers trying to put a spiritual hold on her. It is war between us, I suppose.
Victor made his appearance after I returned to the court at Versailles. Not at our audience with the King and all the ministers, but one of the days when it was nice out and the palace had prepared a fancy luncheon to eat out in the gardens. I was talking to one of the French ministers and suddenly there he was, dressed in his fancy suit and wearing some kind of perfume he hadn’t been wearing in Spain. He spoke to the minister in what sounded like perfect French, though I’ve no idea, and then said, “Good day, Miss Carswell,” and left.
“He says you are a spy,” the minister told me. “He says you were spyi
ng in Spain.”
“That may be true,” I said, “but I haven’t been spying here. I was invited to go to the Université.”
“Good,” he said, and we resumed our luncheon with no more discussion of it.
It bothered me still, and even though Abigail reassured me that it hadn’t changed the outcome of our mission, I felt as though I might be damaging our chances.
(Here Emily ignored a snort from Master Colonel Jackson.)
But Abigail said that the French ministers refused to help us at this moment for the same reason the sorcerers gave. France is in a precarious position, and should they enter on the side of the Americans and lose, Britain might take even more drastic measures than they did after defeating Napoleon. One minister told Abigail that they feared France might become a British territory, and even though we didn’t think that likely, nor that it would last for long if it did happen, it feels very real to them.
So Abigail said that it wasn’t anything I did, even though after that luncheon, a few of the French ministers refused to talk to me. Knowing that some of their sorcerers would help us given the chance is very valuable.
We made a point to talk with the French ministers about how we were going to visit Prussia next. They have the third strongest navy in Europe, even though it’s farther than Spain’s. Plainfield also had us keep that thought in our heads very strongly while we were in the presence of the British spiritual sorcerers. I think most spiritual sorcerers have to be very close to you to pick up your thoughts, but Plainfield is the expert so we listened to him. Only after we’d left Paris did Abigail tell us that we aren’t going to Prussia next, but Holland. So we hope that Victor and his British friends will wait for us in Prussia while we take a quick audience with the Dutch King.
10
The Battle of New Cambridge
As soon as Emily finished her story, she turned to Jackson. “May I have a few minutes with my friends now?”
