by Brad R. Cook
“My father only brought my English suits and Eton uniform.” Owethu shook his head, “This will not be good in the desert.”
“No, it won’t. There has to be something around; this is the equipment room.” I pulled back a tarp and found a pile of discarded clothes, helmets, and gear. “Maybe there is something in this stuff we can borrow.”
We picked through and I saw a patched pair of pants. Putting them on, I used my belt to tighten the waist. I pulled the leather strap out of my bag and wound it around my leg, my waist and chest, all the way to one shoulder. No longer choked by starched collars, or bound in layered wool, I was free. With my Thumper strapped to me, I slipped on a leather jacket and wrapped the dark brass goggles around my forehead. I started to feel like myself again.
Owethu pulled out a pair of khakis overalls. It was easy to see they were two sizes too big for him, but after slipping into them, he tightened the straps and made it work by using a wide leather belt to gather everything together. He unsnapped his white button-down shirt and pulled at the neck. “Better,” he said. Then we returned to digging in the pile.
I dug out two leather pouches. I fixed the smaller one in the strap and secured it to the holster I made last year for my Thumper, and hooked the biggest pouch on my other hip.
Owethu snapped up proudly holding a white pith helmet. He plopped it on his head. “Now, I am ready.”
I chuckled.
“I have always wanted one,” he said, adjusting the helmet and pulling the brass goggles down from the brim and centering them over his eyes. “My brother will be jealous.”
“That it is one fine hat.” I bowed like a gentlemen. “I didn’t know you had brothers, any sisters?”
“Yes, two of each, but my younger brother has been trying to get one of these.” Owethu adjusted himself.
“Shall we call on the lady and escort her? I believe we have a boat or train to catch.”
Owethu nodded. We walked out onto the gundeck and right into Mr. Singh.
The teenage Sikh stood with his hands on his hips, and a stern but upturned smirk on his face. Several chakram ringed the folds of his turban. Smaller ones adorned his wrists. His shamshir hung from his side, along with a double-barrel Katar dagger. A long, skinny bag was slung over one shoulder and lay diagonally across his back. “Not leaving without me, I hope.”
“You’re not here to stop us?” I cocked my head to the side. A big grin spread across my face. “The team is back together.”
“I’m here because it is no secret what you’re about to do.”
“The baron hired you.”
Indihar nodded with a bright smile.
“He doesn’t trust us at all.” I looked at Owethu, who shrugged. “Well, let’s keep it between us. Don’t tell Genevieve.”
“Too late.”
I scrunched my shoulders at the sound of her voice. We turned to see her step down the ladder wearing tight, white pants and a long, flowing tunic. She looked more like a desert raider than a British noblewoman. I’d never seen her in anything but layers of silk or wool. But even now she looked stunning. Her silver saber with the inlaid lapis-lazuli handle hung from one of several belts wrapped around her waist. “I expected as much. We don’t have the best track record of doing what we’re told.”
“Wow, you look … I mean, that is really great … desert attire.” My face burned red.
She curtsied and beamed. “Are we ready?”
“Wait, where is the crewman who was following you?” I peered around her to see if anyone else came down.
“Oh, him? I locked him in my quarters,” she said, flipping her wrist as if it were nothing. “But we do need to leave quickly, in case someone discovers him.”
Mr. Singh leaned in, “Then we should go before Ignatius finds us.”
Owethu nodded and asked, “How do we get out of here when the gangplank is being watched?”
“This way.” Mr. Singh led us to the aft section of the gundeck. He unhooked the pin of an unused hatch and propped it open with a scrap of wood. “It is only a short drop to the dock.”
“Astounding.” I didn’t hesitate. I slid my legs through, held onto the edge of the opening, dangling for a moment before I dropped to the metal grating below.
Genevieve landed next to me and Owethu quickly followed. I looked around to see if anyone was paying attention, but most of the dockworkers and other crewman kept their focus on the crowd. Mr. Singh joined us and we slipped off into the city.
As we ran down an alley, I stopped abruptly and held up my hands, “Wait, what is our plan? Do we head to the boat docks or to the train yard?”
Owethu nodded. “Trains are the fastest way to travel.”
Mr. Singh said, “Heavy equipment usually travels by ship.”
Genevieve pointed toward the setting sun, “The ships are that way, and the train yard is beyond them. I’d say geography has set our path.”
“So it has. Let’s go.” I motioned and everyone followed. “Remember, we’re looking for Hendrix or Kannard.”
Genevieve led us along the wide thoroughfare to the line of canvas-covered masts. Mr. Singh and Owethu scoured the vast jumble of small open vessels, while she and I slipped onto the large paddlewheel steamer. We checked all three decks before they chased us off, but I knew they weren’t onboard. No heavy equipment.
When we regrouped, we each shook our head. No luck.
Next, Genevieve led us toward the train yard. Thick puffs of smoke floated above the crowd, marking our destination. Oil, coal, and incense assaulted my nose as we grew closer.
Through the flurry of goodbyes uttered in every language of the continent, and amidst the screech of grinding wheels on metal tracks, I wondered how we’d know which train to board.
“They could be on any one of these,” I said.
Mr. Singh craned his neck to see over the people. “Look for the equipment.” “I have something that might help.” Genevieve reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a small round contraption, like a compass, but with two arms. “It’s a divining compass. I brought it, in case we need to find water.”
“How is that going to help us?”
“Divining rods can find all kinds of things—water, metals, oil, buried objects, and maybe even horsemen hearts. If they have one, I think I can find it.”
“Fascinating.” I bent over her arm to get a better view of the device. “How does it work?”
“The divining rods come out like so.” With her thumb, she slid a latch sideways. Two silver arms connected to the device at one end, rose upward out of the face. The arms pointed in opposite directions. “Now, I focus my mind on what I want to find.” She perched the device on her fingertips and raised it in front of her as she walked forward. “When you discover what it is you’re looking for, the arms cross over one another.
As I checked the first few trains and Genevieve studied the compass, nothing moved; the arms didn’t even twitch. Then, as we crossed the next set of tracks to check more cars, the arms of the compass swung together.
Genevieve stopped and backed up until the arms uncrossed, and then walking toward the tracks again, she stopped when the divining rods crossed over one another again, marking her find.
She looked up at the three of us. “I think this is it.”
I walked along the tracks, glancing into each car. On the other side of the train, I saw soldiers loading the last of the large crates into a car. Hendrix stepped out, and looked over the cargo. I waved all of them to me and pointed. “There they are.”
Mr. Singh whispered, “We should find the baron and tell him about the train.”
A whistle blew out a white jet of steam and the train screeched to life. Without a word, we all knew what to do. We hurried to the last car of the train. I checked to see where the conductor stood. He was securing the last of the doors and locking them in place. I motioned toward the train and we all jumped on board. Genevieve selected an unoccupied cabin near the back of the car for us to hide in.
My father and I locked eyes. His mouth dropped as he reached out his hand. He ran after the train, but the station platform dropped off, ending his chase. The baron and the others rushed up to his side and stood staring as we departed.
I didn’t know what to do. We were already moving.
My father pointed toward the train, saying something to the others. I waved.
CHAPTER 22
TRAIN TO CAIRO
I pulled away from the window. “We are in so much trouble.” Mr. Singh and Owethu rushed forward and peered out of the glass. “So, now what do we do?” I asked.
Genevieve sat straight up. “We find them, follow them, and stop their evil plan.”
“Cairo is only a few hours by train, so we cannot wait too long, but we should pause and let them get comfortable,” Owethu said.
I sat down beside Genevieve. “Owethu is right. They will still be on alert as we pull away from the station, especially if they saw my father and the others.”
“So, we wait.” Mr. Singh said.
Owethu leaned against the wall as Mr. Singh sat cross-legged, meditating. Genevieve and Rodin curled up beside me. At first her shoulder barely touched mine, the gentle contact sending electricity through me. As if it were the most natural thing for her to do she leaned firmly against me, her hair brushing against my cheek. She scratched Rodin’s head, who squeezed into the warm spot between us. Her scent, even after several days on the road, still retained a hint of roses. She reminded me of the tales of the Saints; the holiest of people were said to never be subject to the corruption of life. Never getting dirty, smelling foul, or possessing any of the other bedeviling curses of the body. She was perfect, an angel among we simple dirt dwellers.
After several joyous moments I hoped would never end, my stomach wretched. I tensed at the pain. Sensing my change, Genevieve sat up and looked at me, worry in her eyes. Mr. Singh snapped out of his meditation and Owethu twisted his head toward the corridor. We’d pulled the curtain closed on the cabin door, but I saw movement through the folds.
Genevieve put Rodin on her shoulder and slipped her hand to the silver hilt of her saber. I slipped the Thumper out of its holster. The weight of the metal baton eased the rapid beating of my heart. I slowly opened the breach to load a percussion cap. Sliding the top part of the baton back into place, I raised it toward the door.
Mr. Singh slid over and crouched beside the door, gently slid a finger against the curtain to widen the gap, and then let it slip back. “Soldiers,” he mouthed. We all stood at ready. Even Rodin, who wiggled his long tail and stretched out his neck, ready to attack.
“I’ll check the last of the cabins,” the soldier said. “You go check the top of the train,” he directed another.
A soldier kicked the first cabin door open. The thwack of the wooden door against the wall resonated into our cabin shaking us all. People screamed. The soldier apologized and moved to the next door. The one next to ours. All five of us stood, ready to pounce. My heart raced. Fear gripped me, but I would not freeze like I had a year ago. I was a knight. Maybe not yet in name, but that didn’t matter. I had the heart of a knight—the courage of a knight. I tightened my hold on the Thumper and pointed it at the door. The cool metal now warmed from my hand.
Footsteps approached our door. The handle turned and the curtain flew up as it swung open. The soldier hesitated. His eyes darted from my Thumper, to Owethu’s fists, and then to Genevieve’s sword. They grew even bigger when he spotted the small dragon on her shoulder.
The soldier stumbled back, trying to ready his weapon. Mr. Singh stepped from behind the door and pointed his double-barrel Katar dagger at him, stopping the soldier, who dropped his rifle. With his focus now on Mr. Singh, I stepped up and whacked the soldier on top of his head with my Thumper. I’d thought about using the concussion blast, but was worried it would make too much noise and alert more soldiers.
The soldier crumpled to the ground. We quickly pulled him inside the cabin, Genevieve closed the door, and Mr. Singh grabbed some cord out of his bag and tied him up.
Genevieve leaned against the door. “We have to go now, before they discover our friend here is missing.”
“Agreed; but if we stay together, we’ll be caught for certain. Mr. Singh, Owethu, why don’t the two of you climb up on top of the train and make your way to the engine. Hopefully you can get them to stop the train. Genevieve and I will find Hendrix and Kannard.”
“An excellent suggestion.” Mr. Singh shook my hand and grabbed my shoulder before he followed Owethu out of the window and up onto the roof.
I opened the cabin door and cautiously stepped out into the corridor. Genevieve followed with Rodin craning his neck, watching our backs. We snuck forward to the door leading to the next car. Opening the outer door whipped my clothes against me; my hair flew in every direction as the warm, dry wind enveloped us. I stepped onto the narrow gangway and look down at the large iron couplings holding the cars together. The ground rushed by in blur underneath us.
“Watch your step,” Genevieve called with a playful smile as she stepped out from the cabin behind me.
“Funny,” I said with a chuckle.
A shadow passed overhead, then another. Owethu and Mr. Singh leapt over us and continued on the train.
I turned back to the railing enclosed gangway that prevented us from easily jumping between cars. The short set of steps leading down on either side of the train was of little help, either. Nothing left to do but climb over the railing and jump over to the next landing. As the wheels clacked and screeched below, and the train jerked back and forth, my nerves rattled. I took a deep breath, climbed over the railing, and leapt across to the other gangway. Without any hesitation, Genevieve jumped right after me, and Rodin followed.
Cautiously, we entered the car. We slinked along the corridor, stopping before each cabin and quickly glancing in. So far, so good. Most were lost in their own world as we sped toward Cairo.
The next car held nothing but rows of seats filled with travelers of many different nationalities. There were even two goats. I shoved my Thumper back into its holster and Genevieve held her sword along her side. Trying to hide our nervousness and fear behind the mask of anonymity, we strode with confidence down the center aisle. As long as no one recognized us, we could move without worry. Fortunately, no one paid attention to us as we made our way through to the other end of the train car.
The next car held many of the crates we’d seen being loaded into an airship in France. We slipped between the stacked boxes. I wondered what might be inside, but we didn’t have time to search them. Besides, I already knew most held the equipment the Golden Circle was transporting deeper into southern Africa.
Stepping out of the car onto the platform, we jumped over the next coupling. I slowly approached the window and peered inside. Soldiers stood guard in the corridor of the cabin car. I spun around and pressed my body alongside the door, and pulled Genevieve beside me. “I think we found them.”
Genevieve stepped in front of me, leaned over, and gave a quick glance through the window. “But how do we get in?”
I shook my head. “We’ll never get through with those guards.”
“Another way around then.”
I grabbed the edge of the railing to my right and leaned out. The train curved around a bend in the track, but my attention turned to the car in front of me. A small ledge formed by the decorative molding on the outside of the car ran under all the windows. I pushed myself back against the train wall. “I’ve got it.” I pointed my thumb to the outside of the car. “We shimmy along the molding.”
Genevieve leaned over the side and . quickly slammed herself back against the train car. “Are you insane?”
“
It’ll be just like before, when we escaped your house and climbed down the drain spout.”
“That ledge was much wider, and not bouncing about.”
“Think of it as fun,” I said as I slung my foot up over the railing. As I slid my foot onto the molding, I grabbed hold of a small, metal pipe secured just beneath the roof by brass brackets. The toes of my shoes barely fit on the narrow ledge, but it was just enough to slide sideways. I scooted toward the first window as Genevieve leaned over the railing.
She climbed over the railing and followed me. “These pointy-toe boots aren’t helping me.”
“Just take it slow,” I forced out through my grinding teeth. My heart and mind both screamed for me to go back, but I couldn’t let the fear freeze me. We had a job to do.
Sliding one foot over, I reached my hand along the rail, and then forced the other side of my body to catch up. After only a few feet, I was starting to agree with Genevieve. This may not have been the best idea.
Still, I pushed on. At the first window, I leaned sideways and looked through the glass.
The cabin was empty.
I turned my head toward Genevieve. “No one is inside. Come on; I’ll check the next one.” When I reached the edge of the second window, I peered into the cabin. A woman stood with her back to the window, her hands waving wildly at two men in front of her. Kannard. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew it was him by the signet ring on his hand. The other man, Hendrix, shoved past the woman waving his bronze-plated arm before sitting down in a huff. I popped back from the window and my foot slipped. Genevieve grabbed my sleeve.
I gripped the overhead bar and reaffirmed my footing, nodding at Genevieve that I was all right. I motioned toward the window, and mouthed, “In there.”
She gestured toward the previous cabin and moved back the way we came. Once at the first window, Genevieve released her grip on the pipe, and tried to pry the window open with one hand. No luck. As she awkwardly lifted her leg and wedged her foot to open the window, the train lurched, and both her feet slipped off the molding. She dangled by one hand as the train rocked back and forth. Rodin grabbed her other hand and pulled, flapping his wings as hard as he could. I reached out to grab her, but she heaved herself up, grabbed the bar, and set her feet back on the molding. As if nothing had happened, she inched her way to the window and swung into the cabin.
