Ella squeezed back. “Good luck.”
Which was not exactly the sentiment one wanted to hear as one approached the doorway for one’s delayed wedding night.
Chapter 10
If Swan had gone down on the eastern side of the mountains, which Evan knew for a fact were inhospitable and did not even provide shelter from the sun, much less food or water, then they had no time to lose.
They must destroy the dam and escape in the behemoth today.
Between their hasty plans of last night and the complete lack of sleep as a result, Evan felt a little light-headed. A little reckless. Who would ever have thought that it would be up to him to mount a rescue of Alice, who embodied capability and command? What had she been thinking of to attempt to cross the border? But it didn’t matter. She had been shot down, and the only person within hundreds of miles who could help was himself.
How close he and the others had come to simply giving up—how blind to their own resources hopelessness had made them! Their situation had not changed, but their attitude toward it certainly had—if wild foolhardiness could be called an attitude.
He and Joe climbed up into the behemoth, guarded fore and aft by the usual soldiers. Had it been Evan in command, he would have changed the troops daily. But no, it was always the same pair, and up until now Evan and Joe had given them no trouble at all. They were hanging their hopes on a slight sense of complacency in their captors—a confidence in their power. A disbelief that model prisoners could be anything else but.
Evan and Joe exchanged a glance of anticipation as Joe passed behind him to man the engine. Evan settled into the pilot’s harness with his usual nod and raised eyebrow, and when the larger of the guards nodded his permission, he began the ignition sequence. Both of them knew perfectly well they could not overpower the soldiers by sheer brute force. At least, not the kind they personally possessed, since Joe was a slight, underfed-looking individual, and Evan, while more robust than he had been when he’d left England, did not have much confidence in his ability to wrestle a rifle from a trained military man. No, they would use the brute force of the behemoth, and Evan had a difficult time keeping the glee out of his expression. But he must school his face to its usual expressionless misery, lest the guards detect that today, something was different.
In the distance, he saw the work crews boarding the steam drays that carted them across the few miles of water meadow and desert to the dam site. Barnaby would be among them, and Dutch, too. Their task, in his mind, was the more difficult. Frankly, one would think a man from the Walsingham Office would have escaped long ago, but since he had not, Evan hoped he would be up to it now. Dutch, on the other hand, was flying blind. He had no memory of what he had been capable of, and his frustration was palpable as he had committed to doing what came to hand, hoping that the mists in his mind would clear enough to make him useful.
“Pressure has equalized,” came Joe’s voice from the engine compartment. “You may proceed. All is secure.”
The same words he used every morning. Except for the last three, delivered just as tonelessly as the others. But what it meant was that Joe had located the unused security line and clipped it to his pants.
Evan swung into motion, lifting his arms and legs and turning the behemoth about. They proceeded out of the stockade and stumped down the road as they did every morning. But today, Evan increased his speed just enough to overtake the drays and their clouds of dust and pass them. Once he was in the clear, he threw up the two levers that allowed air into the cabin, and raised the protective isinglass shield about a foot.
“What are you doing?” the tall guard snapped. “Close that at once.”
“I am to place the topmost beams on the structure today,” Evan explained. “The shield distorts my vision, and the job requires delicate precision.”
When Joe translated, the guard frowned. “Close it, and open it up later.”
“No, don’t,” said the other guard. “Breathe fresh air while you can. Once we get to that hell-hole it will be nothing but sweat and dust. Be grateful for your blessings while you have them.”
Frowning, the taller guard subsided, but not before backhanding Joe for having had the temerity to translate private remarks. Evan bit back a smile, and a twinge of regret that no more blessings would be forthcoming for those two today.
But before they could reach the pile of girders where he had been working for the last several days, and put the first stage of their impossible plan into motion, an entire troop of men strung themselves across the road, rifles on their shoulders, blocking the way.
“Stop, in the Viceroy’s name!”
The shorter of the two guards leaned into the speaking horn. “What is it, countrymen? We are bound for the dam, as usual.”
Cursing internally, Evan had no choice but to bring the behemoth to a halt, steaming, its joints hissing as he released the pressure in their pistons. Blast and bebother it! Barnaby and Dutch could not know that his side of their two-pronged plan was being delayed. Unless somehow they could see the road, and see him stalled here in a cloud of dust and steam.
“What is it?” he asked the tall one. “Why are they stopping us?”
“Proceed back to the barracks,” came the command from the man on horseback in the middle of the roadblock. “The foreigner is wanted on His Highness’s business.”
“Foreigner?” Evan said aloud. “Does he mean me?”
This question had clearly occurred to the short one, too, for he called down for confirmation. The leader’s horse backed and sidestepped as the man stood in the stirrups. “Obey me at once! Do you want to keep the commander waiting? He wants the operator of el Gigante, and he wants him now, you fools!”
Evan bit back a groan of frustration. On this morning of all mornings—when Alice and what was left of her crew could be bleeding in the desert just beyond those peaks, when he and his three companions had screwed their courage to the sticking point—now he was summoned into the commander’s presence? He could not have done this last night? What did he want—for Evan to interpret another of his nightmares?
He exchanged an agonized glance with Joe, who gripped a pressure lever so tightly his fingers were white as bone. Joe’s eyes were wide with apprehension as he mouthed, Go! Go!
But he could not. If he did, the element of surprise would be utterly lost, to say nothing of the necessary proximity to the dam. If they broke through the line here, it would be a premature act of war, and all they would get for their pains would be a missile from the cannon on the platform above the road.
“Tell them we shall return immediately, and to clear the road,” Evan said at last. “Joe, apply some pressure to our legs, if you please.”
“But—”
“If you please.”
His mouth locked in a grim line, Joe did as he was told, and Evan moved the behemoth in a slow circle. His blood ran cold through his veins with disappointment and the poisonous dregs of a battle lust that had nowhere now to go. Then they stumped back down the road in the direction of the barracks, passing the steam drays with their loads of men—Barnaby and Dutch gaping up at them in dismay. By the time they came to a halt once more inside the stockade, Evan’s limbs were shaking and it was all he could do to keep the tears of frustration from leaking down his cheeks.
He had no desire to explain that to anyone.
To his surprise, when he and Joe were escorted into the commander’s quarters, it was not to the man’s sleeping chamber, but to the audience hall, whose support beams had been made from the slender trunks of trees, adzed and carved with festive garlands and the suns that were the Viceroy’s symbol. At the far end was a throne covered in gold leaf, presumably for those rare occasions when the Viceroy visited, and below that, a long, heavily carved table at which the commander presided.
He was not sitting now. Instead, he paced back and forth in front of it, his hands clasped behind his back, clearly waiting for them and not happy about it.
“Ah. At last,” he said when they approached, their shirts dusty and stained with sweat, though the sun was barely above the mountains. “Please, be seated. Coffee?”
Evan couldn’t stand the bitter beverage, but Joe was happy to allow a steward to pour him some in a delicate porcelain cup.
“I regret the necessity for interrupting your work on the dam, but word has come of a most extraordinary nature, and I fear that you, Senor Douglas, are the man to answer it.”
“In what way, sir?” Evan’s mouth was so dry that his tongue clicked on the consonants. The steward handed him a thick, greenish glass full of water, and he drank it gratefully.
“You recall the service that you rendered me a few nights ago.”
“Of course, sir. I trust your slumbers have been more peaceful since?”
“Oddly, they have. But even were they not, they are the cause of a chain of events that has resulted in a letter on this morning’s train. A letter from the Viceroy himself.”
The commander picked up a creamy piece of stationery, its paper thick enough to accommodate the heavy engraving of the royal crest. It was covered in small, spiky handwriting that looked as though an irritated bird had run back and forth across the page.
The commander’s resolute eye now fell on Joe, whose own eye was assessing whether there was enough coffee in the elegant pot to ask for a second cup. “I understand that you, sir, have some ability with the language of God?”
It took Joe a moment to understand first, that he was being directly addressed, and second, what this question meant. And a good thing he did, for Evan hadn’t the least idea. In the Californio tongue, Joe answered smoothly and with what Evan felt was rather an elegance of pronunciation, compared to the way he usually spoke it.
The commander held out the letter. “Translate this for Senor Douglas, then, if you would.”
Joe took the paper as though it were Holy Writ and cleared his throat with a squeak.
Senor de Sola, Commander of the fort at Las Vegas de la Colorado, greetings.
It is no doubt common knowledge in the Royal Kingdom that I have not slept in many nights, and in fact, have been disturbed by dreams and phantasms of an alarming nature even during my waking hours. I am at my wits’ end, sir, and my patience came to a similar end some days ago.
I understand that in the gaol under your supervision is a man who, like Joseph of old, is an interpreter of dreams. Bring him to me at once. I shall leave San Francisco de Asis on Silver Wind—
At Evan’s gasp, Joe looked up. “Nothing,” Evan said hastily. “Go on.”
—on Silver Wind, and receive this man at Rancho San Luis Obispo de Tolosa, where he will interpret my dreams. I must have peace. I demand peace, and at once. If I do not receive satisfaction, he will pay with his life for deceiving us both.
Evan fumbled for a chair and fell into it as his knees gave out.
Go with God, and may His angels rally to our cause.
Carlos Filipe, Viceroy of the Royal Kingdom of Spain and the Californias, Defender of the True Faith, and General of the Armies of Heaven
Carefully, holding it by its edges in his filthy fingers, Joe replaced the royal command on the glossy surface of the table.
“Well done,” the commander said. “Your accent is almost perfect.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Where did you learn to speak our language so very well?”
“Excuse me, but did anyone just hear that I am to be executed if I cannot interpret the boy’s damned dreams?” Evan hardly recognized his own voice, so harsh and commanding was it. “May we dispense with the pleasantries and come to an agreement? I am a citizen of Her Majesty Queen Victoria, and neither she nor I will take kindly to the threat of execution under such trivial circumstances!”
“Would you prefer it be under more serious circumstances?” the commander inquired.
Evan lost his tenuous hold on his temper. “Do not patronize me, sir! I have lived under threat of execution since I was tricked by your ambassador into crossing your borders. Believe me, I should never have come of my own volition. What I want to know is, how am I to refuse this ridiculous command, and when may I return to my duty? The behemoth’s abilities are being wasted while you sport with us, sir!”
Commander de Sola gazed at him, his dark eyes assessing, until at last he picked up the sweating pitcher of water and poured Evan another glass. “I regret to say that a royal command may not be refused. I realize you are ignorant of our customs—and ignorant of how close you came just now to execution with your intemperate words. Even to refuse the Viceroy in principle is treason.”
“Must make it difficult when he passes people things at dinner,” Joe muttered.
“Do not make light of it, young man,” the commander said quietly. “Consider this a lesson and guard your tongues better in future. No, there is no refusing it. I must deliver you to him in San Luis Obispo de Tolosa, and there is an end to it. I am afraid el Gigante must remain idle for as long as the journey takes—unless you have managed to train someone in your place?”
Evan snorted, his temper still at a rolling boil. “Your guards have been so assiduous in their duties that they have not allowed the man Barney—the only person I would trust in the behemoth’s harness, since he is not a complete idiot—to be in the pilot’s chamber with me. They fear we will cause mischief. Stage a coup in the stockade or some nonsense. So no, there is no one trained in its operation who can keep the work going on the dam.” He glared at his guards, who stood at attention on either side of the audience chamber’s door. “And you have no one to blame but yourselves!”
The commander allowed Evan’s angry tones to die away into the rafters. “Very well. There are no doubt other areas of the dam that can be constructed in your absence. Come. We must get you both ready and on the northbound train. I have enough influence to make it wait a short time, but not for longer.”
“Wait. Us both?” Joe squeaked.
“Do you know of someone else proficient enough with our language who can be spared in order to translate?” the commander inquired.
“Well … you, sir.”
The smallest smile curved the commander’s lips below his moustache. “I will not be on my knees in the Viceroy’s private chambers, translating the interpretation of his dreams. That will be your task. I am required to deliver you into his presence, no more.”
“I cannot go.” Evan couldn’t quite believe they were having this conversation. He couldn’t go meet the Viceroy hundreds of miles north. He had to save Alice!
“You must.”
“I must stay here. I have my duty—I have—”
“You will be executed at sunset if you do not leave with me on that train.”
All the air rushed out of Evan’s lungs, and his spine wilted against the carved chair back. “What?”
“I am quite serious. The Viceroy requires you. I must deliver you. If you do not come willingly, I am still required to do so, even if it is in chains … or a coffin.” He regarded Evan with some sympathy. “It is not forever, sir. We will have you back in the prison cell you seem to value so highly within a few days.”
A few days would be too late. Evan dared not look at Joe, but he heard his breathing change as the same realization dawned on him.
A few days in the desert was all it would take to put paid to his friends. If dehydration did not kill them, the witches would, and the destruction of all the dams in the world would not bring back the closest thing to family he had ever known.
Chapter 11
Alice had heard of las brujas, of course—everyone in Resolution had, since the river and the lands the witches controlled were only an hour’s flight away. But she had never seen them. Had half believed them a myth conjured up to scare disobedient children into behaving, much as the legend of their gold kept prospectors exploring the river canyons though the legend had never been proven true.
“How did you ever find them?” she asked Betsy Trelawney as the f
ormer desert flower showed her and her crew into rounded rooms chipped out of the soft rock. These were well behind the towers and homes made of mud brick that housed witches and equipment and food, while below, terraces and laddered ledges tumbled to the river.
“They say that a woman truly in need will find them, and it turned out to be true,” Betsy said simply. “After you fixed up my arm, I made my way to the river overland. When I got there, I found a group of them fishing. They fed and clothed me, since I’d left with next to nothing, and so I stayed.”
“It seems almost miraculous, that a group of women could accomplish all this.” Ian’s gesture took in the room, the village, and by extension, the vast canyons of the territory the witches controlled.
“I don’t know about miraculous,” Betsy said with a laugh. “If a group of men had done the same, would you call it so?”
With a smile, he had to admit the flaw in his logic. “But I must say, you have some engineering here that I have not seen even in London. The—the conveyance in which we came down the cliff face! What a marvel!”
“I must have a closer look at it,” Alice agreed. “Half ascender, half spider … I wanted to close my eyes in fright, but its operation was too fascinating for me to lose a moment watching it work.”
“That was invented years ago by a woman who has since climbed the starlight stair,” Betsy said. “Her daughter runs it now. I’ll warn you now before you sit next to them at the evening meal, May Lin and Stella will go on for hours about mechanics.”
“I can’t think of anything I’d like better. Maybe she can give us some help getting Swan back in the air.”
“And maybe you can give us some help in return.”
Alice turned at Mother Mary’s voice to see her leaning on the door jamb. “Of course. You’ve given us hospitality freely. The least we can do is share what we know, if it will help.”
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