Waltz of the Crows

by L Rollins

  It was like when she and Samuel had gathered hair samples. Leila had realized that having so many sick patients would only make finding a cure easier because there was more information to pull from.

  Claude must have believed if he could find a cure for the waltzing flu—his own disease in the making—then he could cure his sister.

  She leaned back in the seat. All those people, dead or sick. How could he? Claude had treated those around him like their only purpose was to serve his immediate family, who had owned and ruled Conques since the era of feuding serfdoms.

  She had to get back.

  Leila pulled back the curtain. They were passing by trees and hills, absolutely no one in sight. She banged against the carriage roof, signaling the driver to stop. With a little bit of luck and quick thinking, she might be able to convince the driver to take her back himself. If not, well, then she’d have to think up something else.

  The carriage lolled to a slow stop and soon after the driver pulled open her door.

  Leila plunged ahead without waiting for him to ask any questions first. “I am so sorry, but I’m afraid I’ve left a very valuable item back at the castle. We’ll have to turn around and fetch it.”

  The man’s wrinkled expression only tightened into a more determined grimace. “Sorry, mademoiselle, orders are orders. Master said to take you to Rodez; no detours, no turnin’ about, no stopin’ on the way. Now, just tuck yerself back inside, and we’ll roll on.”

  Leila eyed the man. He was easily twice her size and didn’t seem the least bit inclined to either take her back to Conques, or suddenly fall ill and allow her to drive them both back.

  She certainly wouldn’t be able to tackle the man and subdue him to her will. Just imagining herself trying almost brought a bitter laugh to her lips. She truly had to tell London to teach their recruits self-defense and hand-to-hand much earlier on.

  “Well, then. That is unfortunate.” She thought through a couple of quick excuses and landed on one that would at least increase her chances of escape later. “I did leave a few items in the luggage piece tied to the back.” She stepped out of the carriage and around the large man. “I’ll just grab them quickly and then we can be on our way again.”

  He rocked forward a bit onto the balls of his feet. Was he going to physically force her back inside? Leila hurried around toward the back of the carriage before he could and busied herself untying the ropes.

  The driver seemed to think better of forcing her back inside, at least for the time being, and waited silently for her to finish. Leila’s hunch that she was being not kindly escorted to Rodez, but forcibly shipped there was starting to feel more and more likely.

  Claude, it would appear, wanted her out of the way.

  Well, too bad. She wasn’t leaving. Hang London and their Count Van Hagen. Hang Claude and his superiority complex. Leila wasn’t backing down and she wasn’t done solving problems.

  She slipped a hand inside the piece of luggage and pushed items around until she found the rest of her purse. There wasn’t much coin inside—nurses were paid more with room and board than with actual money. She took it all and shoved it down inside the simple, practical reticule.

  If only she could take a simple change of clothes and press them deep inside her reticule as well. But the bag was far too small for that. Instead she settled for pulling out a dark blouse and tucking that inside. She would have to get the rest of a change of clothes somewhere else.

  She stepped back and shut the piece of luggage. The driver moved around and, without a word, strapped it securely down once more.

  “Thank you,” Leila said, sweetly. It was in her best interested not to arouse any suspicion or even do something as simple as irritate the man. Without waiting for him, she seated herself back inside the carriage and soon they were rolling forward once more.

  She’d have to wait until Rodez to make her move. That gave her a couple of hours to do what she did best.

  Think up a plan.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “YOU ARE AN excellent driver,” Leila cooed as she stepped down from the carriage.

  The driver only gave a truncated dip of his head in response.

  “I cannot recall the last time I had such a pleasant trip.”

  The driver still would not smile.

  Very well; being sweet wasn’t going to win him over. Leila hadn’t believed it would work after their brief stop along the road. But it had been worth a try. She’d have to stick to the plan she’d devised along the way. It was a bit tricky and if she were caught, there would be no second chance. But it was her only chance. For the sake of Conques and all who lived there, she had to try.

  Leila placed a hand atop the drivers, stopping his untying of her luggage.

  “Actually”—she batted her lashes a bit while speaking, just for good measure—“you have gotten us here so early I do believe I will do a bit of shopping before my airship takes off. I saw a haberdashery just down the way.” She pointed over her shoulder. “I’ll just step in and be right back.”

  She turned to stride away, but the driver took hold of her elbow. Panic surged inside her at his touch. Her hand clenched tight.

  “I’ll drive ye, mademoiselle,” he said.

  The prickling against her skin eased slightly as he led her back inside the carriage and turned it around. Leila let out a large sigh. For a moment she’d believed he was going to throw her over his shoulder and march her onto the airship.

  She’d much rather leave him here and go ‘shopping’ by herself. But this could still work. The carriage stopped yet again after not more than five minutes of moving.

  Not wanting to arouse suspicion, Leila waited for the driver to dismount and open her door before stepping out.

  “Thank you. I’ll only be a moment,” Leila said before she slipped into the shop.

  Rodez felt far larger now than when she’d landed there on her way to Conques several months prior. Then, she had been comparing the city with London and her home and it had felt a good size, but somewhat quaint. Now, comparing it to Conques, it felt like a crush. Or perhaps Rodez was just busier this time of year. In England, the season would be in full swing. It could be that many people from neighboring towns traveled into Rodez like she had traveled into London each year growing up.

  Whatever the reason, the more crowded Rodez was, the better chance she had to slip away.

  A young woman, probably only a few years younger than Leila herself, walked up and offered a meek curtsy.

  “May I help you, mademoiselle?”

  “Yes.” Leila certainly hoped so. First step of her plan, she needed to change her appearance. I am looking to try on a new skirt, and possibly an outer corset with it.”

  ***

  Less than twenty minutes later, Leila stood in a back room with long drapes drawn for privacy as the young attendant finished tightening the strings of the outer corset.

  Between it, the new skirt, and the dark shirt she’d secreted out of her luggage, she looked nothing like the nurse who’d left Conques. Except for one thing. Leila reached up and pulled out the pins holding her tight bun.

  “What do you think, mademoiselle?” The attendant stepped back, a pleased smile on her face.

  “I do love the lace,” she said. The ensemble was a bit more eye catching than she would have liked; she was trying to avoid being seen, not draw attention. But she wore no bright colors, and this was certainly nothing like the simple white uniform her driver would be looking for.

  More than that, she didn’t have time to try on anything else. Getting out of there soon would serve her better than trying on something less attractive.

  Her hair fell in coils down her shoulders as she pulled the last two pins out. It felt good to have it down again; she’d missed being able to style it to her own liking. She fingered a few strands of hair. Due to her tight bun, it was curled rather nicely.

  “Do you have a hat?” she asked the attendant. “Something with a low
veil?”

  The young woman hurried off and returned within minutes.

  “How’s this?”

  It was a dark, small hat. Quite stylish and with a low hanging veil.

  “Perfect.” Leila let the attendant pin it on and then she picked up her reticule. “I prefer to wear the items out. But you may box up those.” She waved to her discarded uniform.

  On the ride to Rodez, Leila had originally planned on leaving the white clothes in the shop. She certainly didn’t care to haul them in her arms all through town. But if she left them, someone might get suspicious and, in an effort to help, inform her driver of her disappearance earlier than he would otherwise note. No, it was better for her if she took the items out of the shop and left them where no one would find them anytime soon.

  Leila paid the attendant and was glad her reticule didn’t feel too light afterward. She would still have to pay for a ride back into Conques.

  Taking her boxed nursing uniform, she stepped back into the shop proper. The driver stood just outside of one of the windows. It would have been indecent for him to cup a hand to the window and blatantly stare in at all the milling customers, but he wasn’t far off from doing just that.

  The driver continually glanced in, eying each individual who passed. Claude must have given him some very specific instructions and either the driver was unbendingly loyal, or Claude was paying him extra to see to it that Leila left France. Then again, Claude could have made up some strange lie regarding her.

  She’d heard more than one manservant whisper their displeasure at Madame Uppertick’s constant attentions. Perhaps he’d concocted a story about Leila acting the same way. Whatever Claude had said to the driver, the wrinkled man was blatantly determined to see Leila to her airship.

  He would have to learn to live with disappointment.

  After promising the young attendant, multiple times, that she was quite set and needed no more help, Leila slipped back toward the changing rooms, boxes in her arms.

  She’d noticed a small draft which picked up now and then coming from around a corner. And intermittent drafts normally meant either a door or window was open nearby.

  Leila glanced over her shoulder, but none of the dozen or so patrons or attendants in the room were paying her any attention. Leila slipped around the corner into a narrow hallway, well-cleaned, but unadorned. It had to be a hall meant only for those who worked at the stop—a means of getting to their station without bothering customers.

  It was empty, but who knew how long that would last. Leila turned toward what would be the back of the store and walked quickly. Before Conques, walking down a servant’s hall would have felt strange. But now, it felt like she was already back in the castle, moving from one hospital room to the next.

  Sure enough, a door stood at the end of the hall, most probably meant for deliveries. Leila didn’t slow but charged out the unlocked door and into the cold air. A dirty cobblestone courtyard opened up before her. One large carriage rested in the middle with several men in simple breeches, shirts, and suspenders lifting large crates off of it. Many stopped to eye her.

  Her stylish outer corset and hat were not going to help her hide here. She needed to keep moving.

  Without making eye contact with anyone, she strode confidently across the courtyard, past a couple of individuals huddled against the back store wall for warmth, and around toward the street. She would blend in better out there.

  Nearing the corner of the store, Leila slowed and peered around. The driver was pacing up and down in front of the store, head on a constant swivel. Blast, he was growing suspicious already. Perhaps she never should have stopped the carriage and asked that he return her; that alone could have been enough to tip her hand.

  She could just step out into the crowd, keep her back to him, and hope her disguise was enough to avoid being noticed. The thought didn’t sit well with her. She only had one chance to get away. If he caught up with her now, when she was clearly trying to give him the slip, he probably would throw her over his shoulder and toss her on board the airship.

  Leila back stepped. Here in the alley, where everything was simple browns and there wasn’t a shred of delicate lace to be seen, she stood out too much to mingle for long. What she needed was a decoy, a means of distracting the driver long enough for her to disappear down the main road without his notice.

  The two individuals were still huddled against the back side of the haberdashery. She neared them. Both were women, one white haired and elderly, the other closer to Leila’s age.

  She crouched down in front of the two, speaking to the younger woman. “Care to earn a little coin?”

  The young woman eyed her suspiciously. “What’n I’d have to do for it?”

  Leila pushed the box of her old uniform forward. “Put this on, and walk, quickly, down the main street.”

  “You hiddin’ from som’n?”

  This young woman was bright. It was a pity she was stuck on the street. “Yes, and I’ll pay you to help me get away from him.”

  “He’n’s not gonna hit me when he catches me, will he?”

  Leila shook her head as she pulled the white dress from the box. “Oh gracious, no. He’ll be upset when he catches up and finds you aren’t me, but you won’t be harmed.” The driver was clearly determined to see Leila to the airship, but she doubted he would lay a hand on a stranger in his agitation.

  The young woman gave a decisive nod. “I’ms the one you want. I walk fast and ‘ill keep your man hustlin’ after me for quite some time. Just tells me which direction ta walk.”

  Leila helped the young woman into the dress and stuck every last loathed pin from her reticule into the woman’s hair styling it exactly as Leila had styled her own these past months.

  Then she stepped back and looked at her work. From the back, the street woman looked exactly like Leila herself. And if the young woman darted between passersby down the street she would most certainly look to the driver like his lost passenger.

  Leila instructed the young woman exactly which path to take—it would appear to the driver like Leila was heading away from the airship, while at the same time taking the driver away from the post office and railroad hotel, which is where Leila would head in search of a buggy for hire.

  “Thank you for doing this for me,” she said as she dug out several coins. She deposited a few in the woman’s hand, which quickly disappeared down the front of her blouse.

  “Glad you’n bumped into me, mademoiselle.” The young woman hurried down the side of the store and around the corner.

  Leila watched from several paces behind. The young woman waited until the driver was turning her direction and then moved into the throng of people hurrying down the street. The driver caught sight of her instantly and charged after her.

  The young woman, though, held true to her word. She bobbed and wove in and out of the throng of shoppers with ease, always staying in sight but never allowing the driver to get close.

  Leila watched the two disappear between the throng. If all went well—meaning she caught Claude and stopped the waltzing flu and somehow convinced London not to ship her off to Australia as a traitor to the crown—then she just might come back here and see if the young woman wanted a career as a spy.

  Turning to her left, Leila wove between people. One hurdle down. Next step, she needed to get back to Conques and speak to the constable.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  SAMUEL KICKED AT the blanket covering him. After only a moment of it down at his feet, he pulled it back over him. His room was too hot with it on, yet too cold with it off.

  Devil take it. He threaded his fingers together and placed his hands under his head. It was nearing midnight and he hadn’t slept a wink thus far.

  He should probably get up and make the most of not being able to sleep, but he didn’t feel like it. He hadn’t felt like doing anything all day. Why should he? His Leila was gone.

  For some blasted reason, she had left Conques earl
y that morning without getting word to him. He suspected the Monsieurs Martin and Winstone had more than a little hand in keeping them apart. Probably Madame Winstone as well.

  Whatever their reasoning, he hadn’t been able to catch so much as a whisper as to where she’d gone, other than she had been given her next assignment. Not wanting to waste time returning home to get his own horse, he’d borrowed a horse from Monsieur Martin’s stable and very nearly ended up behind bars when one of the stable hands finally ran him aground and, in no uncertain terms, demanded he turn around.

  Samuel rolled onto his stomach and groaned. Having chosen to sleep shirtless, Samuel’s old blanket rubbed against his bare chest, only reminding him how futile trying to sleep was. Life was already dark and miserable. Yes, he knew Leila was a brilliant spy and was needed by her country.

  He would not stand in her way. But knowing she was saving who knew how many lives was not, in the moment, making their separation any easier to bear.

  There was a thump and a soft grunt. Samuel pushed himself up and looked over his shoulder. A figure, sticking halfway through his window, placed her palms on his wall and hauled the rest of herself in.

  She hit the floor and rolled expertly.

  “Leila?” He grabbed his shirt off the nearby chair where he’d chucked it hours earlier and pushed his arms through the sleeves. Not bothering to button it up he strode over to her and pulled her to her feet.

  She was dressed in dark garb and looked far too breathtaking with her hair down to be in his room alone.

  “Hello, Samuel,” she said with a mischievous smile.

  He hugged her close, tucking his nose into her hair. She smelled divine. He’d imagined holding her against him like this so many times. He felt her sigh and lean further against him.

  “I don’t recall falling asleep,” he said. “Yet this must be a dream.”