by Chris Paton
“No,” said Hari. “When you are in djinn form, your flesh is charged and the bullet cannot get through. But, the energy in a charged bullet disorientates the djinn, and upsets the natural charge in the djinn's body.”
“It confuses us?”
“Truly, it does.”
The father of the young female djinni approached them. He carried clothes for Jamie and the old man stirring on the ground. Jamie dressed in a patched and dirty dhoti and then helped the man to his feet.
“My name is Tahir,” he said and waited as Jamie dressed.
“How did these men...” Jamie said.
“And my daughter,” said Tahir.
“Yes. How did they come to be in the pit?”
Hari buttoned his shirt and nodded to Najma as she approached, her Jezail slung over her shoulder. They stood quietly as the man cleared his throat and helped the old man into his dhoti.
“This is a poor village,” he said. “We had trouble with bandits in the mountains. They took our crops, our goats and, sometimes, our women. We decided to protect ourselves, and Aarif,” he nodded at the old man, “suggested we dig a djinn pit. He also volunteered to climb into it.”
“That was several years ago,” said Aarif.
“My daughter joined him, together with Lemar. They were in love. They believed it was the right thing to do for the village. I couldn't stop them. But neither could we control them.”
“We had no experience of digging a pit,” said Aarif. “We thought it was the same as digging a well. That was our first mistake. Our second was thinking we understood how djinn came to be. We starved ourselves, thinking that suffering was the key.”
“The crying was unbearable,” Tahir. “I heard my daughter beg for food every night.”
“And then the bandits came,” said Aarif.
“And they laughed at us. Their leader sent one of his men back to their camp, and he returned with a most evil man – one skilled in the djinn arts.”
Hari studied the old man as he shuddered at the memory. The man's blistered nails and the scars on his face and chest suggested a struggle between djinn trapped in the bottom of a deep, dark pit.
“The bandits cursed us with djinn beyond our control,” said Tahir.
“It would have been better if we had died in that pit.”
“Yes,” Tahir said. He turned to look at his daughter as she held hands with her lover by the side of the pit.
“And now?” said Jamie.
“Now we return,” said Aarif. “Look at the buildings, the ruins of our village. The bandits did not do this. We did. The first and last time we were free, before today.”
“How did the villagers get you back into the pit?” said Hari.
“With the promise of food. We were so weak, we ran out of energy, but not before we had destroyed much of the village. We crawled back into the pit of our own free will. Hungry and broken. Cursed.”
“I know all about the curse,” said Jamie.
“Yes, but you at least have known control. To be wild without restraint, and to feel remorse at what one has done,” said Tahir. “That is the true curse of the djinn – to hurt those one loves.”
“I can teach you control,” Hari said.
“Perhaps. But we really have no need for djinn any longer. The bandits left us alone after the djinn destroyed our village. Suddenly, we had nothing to offer, we were too poor to be robbed. The humiliation...” he said.
“Come, Tahir,” said Aarif. “Walk with me to the pit and say goodbye to your daughter.”
Tahir took a step and stopped. “Thank you for your help. Thank you for letting me see my daughter once more. She,” he said and wiped a tear from his cheek. “Is as beautiful as the day she first crawled into the pit. And so will she remain, long after I have gone. That, I suppose, is my legacy – to have an immortal daughter.” The men held hands as they walked towards the pit. Jamie started to follow but Hari caught his arm.
“No, British,” he said and shook his head.
“But they can be free,” said Jamie. “I am free. My body is the vessel, as is theirs.”
“But without control, the vessel will break, again and again, as it did today.”
“You can teach them.”
“They do not want my help,” said Hari and he turned to watch the man hug his daughter. The villagers pressed food into the hands of the djinn, kissed them and hugged them, and then cried as they lowered a rope ladder into the pit and waited as the djinn climbed down and out of sight. A new lid was pushed to the pit on the bed of a weathered cart. The villagers slid it into place and began piling stones on top of it as Tahir walked back towards Hari, Jamie and Najma.
“We have some food,” he said. “Will you eat with us?”
“Yes,” Hari said as Jamie clenched his fists and turned to walk away. Najma hurried after him. “We would be honoured to eat with you.”
“Your friend, the Englishman, I don't think he will be honoured.”
“He is a passionate young man.”
“He is djinn.”
“Truly,” said Hari.
“He thinks I should learn to control the djinn, and my daughter.”
“Yes.”
“But you can see, can you not, we are so few. The village is poor. It is all but dead.”
“Yes,” said Hari and glanced at the villagers piling stones on the lid of the pit. Their clothes were patched like the dhoti Jamie wore. Their hands scarred and their backs bent from tilling poor earth.
“We are too poor to be robbed. We have no need of djinn.”
Hari shook his head at the irony of it all. He pressed his hand upon the man's chest and looked him in the eye.
“Let me teach you the way of djinn. They have great strength, it need not be used for fighting.” He took the man's hand. “The soil is hard. Let them do the work for you. They can dig irrigation ditches. You can grow a healthy crop. You can see your daughter. You don't need the djinn to fight.”
“I don't know,” Tahir said and wiped his eyes at the sound of the last rock being placed on top of the lid.
“Think about it. Talk to your people. When Jamie and I are finished with our business in the east, we can return, and teach you.” Hari nodded to where Jamie and Najma stood talking. “If I can teach him to control his passion, I can teach you to control theirs.”
Tahir looked at Jamie and sighed. “Perhaps.”
“Think about it,” said Hari. “And now, perhaps we can eat.”
“Yes, of course. I will see to it.”
Hari watched as Tahir walked to the pit and talked to the villagers. The dust at their feet was scarred with battle and loss. The men and women, the few remaining, wept as their children huddled in a small group and waited.
“Luise,” Hari whispered. “Truly, it would break your heart to see this. Perhaps, we can return when we are finished in Arkhangelsk? Yes,” he said, louder. “That is what we will do.” Hari sheathed the kukri and called to Jamie and Najma. “Come, friends. We must eat.”
“Has he changed his mind? Will he be taught?” said Jamie as Hari joined them.
“He has agreed to think about it, and I have pledged to myself to help him. Does that satisfy you, British?”
“For the moment, perhaps.” Jamie glanced towards the villagers as they started a fire by the side of a building across the square.
“I am hungry,” said Najma.
“Yes,” said Hari. “And you, British, need your strength.”
“Why?”
“Why?” said Hari and laughed. “Because tonight we fly.”
Chapter 12
The Tanfana
The German Confederation
July, 1851
Hannah slumped into the chair opposite Luise in the passenger car of The Tanfana. She reached for the coffee pot and an empty cup. She poured herself a cup as she observed her travelling companion. Luise, for her part, played dumb and waited for Hannah to speak first. The German had her priorities and the A
dmiral had warned her to be careful. Wallendorf's love for his daughter could only extend so far, and, once she was gone, Luise doubted the German Confederation would continue to sponsor a military expedition beyond its borders without good reason. The leather seat creaked as Hannah leaned back and sipped her coffee. Luise smiled and waited.
The scenery disappeared with the failing light and the women were joined for a moment in the otherwise empty car by a lamplighter. The young boy trimmed the wicks and lit them with a tapered match. He was, Luise realised, about the same age as Emilia. Too young to be considered an adult, and too old not to be put to work. Clearly, this boy's talents were not as developed as Emilia's and Luise smiled at the thought of her supervising the engineers cleaning and servicing her emissary. The lamplighter whispered past them and moved into the adjoining car. Hannah put down her cup and broke the silence as the lamps flickered with the boy's passing.
“There is something you should know,” she said.
“And that is?”
“The city of Arkhangelsk is under German occupation.”
“What?”
“Yes,” Hannah said. She waited for the frown on Luise's forehead to disappear. “When Herr Bremen was still himself, before his body was occupied by the slow demon, Aether, he approved a plan to approach the Russian government and offer them some of our technology.”
“In return for what?”
“Precious metals and diamonds – the mines in the north of Russia are full of them. The German Confederation offered to provide emissaries and mammoth walkers, plus additional prototypes, in exchange for unhindered access to the mines surrounding Arkhangelsk. One large mine in particular.” Hannah lowered her eyes. When she looked up, Luise could see the shame Hannah decided she could not hide. “The people of Arkhangelsk were fooled into believing the emissaries had been sent to work in the mines. The people, especially the women, were sick from working in the mines – the dust and poor ventilation affected their lungs.”
“Why the women? Where were the men?”
“Fighting the Cossacks in a skirmish war over territory. The women took their place in the mines. The emissaries were received with open arms. And then...” Hannah shook her head. “What Schleiermacher told me... what was done in the name of the German Confederation...” she looked straight into Luise's eyes and held her gaze. “I will do what is necessary to make things right. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“I don't believe Herr Bremen meant for such things to be done. No matter how ruthless he could be, he was a good man at heart.”
“You are loyal to him.”
“I was,” Hannah said and took a breath. The lights flickered as the lamplighter opened the door between the cars and walked past them. She waited until he had left the car. “Now my loyalty lies to my country, although...”
“Arkhangelsk?”
“Yes. That shouldn't have happened.”
“You were not in command.”
“No, it was a man called Rutger Venzke that led them. I intend to find him, and strip him of his command. He is a disgrace to the German Confederation.”
“He was just following orders. As you have done,” Luise said and bit her lip. But it was too late. Hannah barely hid the sneer on her lips as she leaned back in her seat.
“That was different.”
“Of course,” Luise said and raised her hands in a sign of peace. “Forgive me, you have already done much to make amends.”
“It was your machine that released the demons. All of them.”
“Yes.” Luise focused on the flicker of the lights for a moment and then turned to face Hannah. “We are all to blame, one way or another. It is fitting then that we should both be heading north to put things right. Let us put this behind us and focus on what lies ahead.”
Hannah nodded in agreement and took another sip of coffee. She finished the cup in silence as Luise pressed her hand to her side, gauging the pain she felt.
“You are still in pain, ja?”
“Yes. I suppose I should see Wallendorf's doctor. He will probably try hypnosis again,” Luise said and sighed.
“You don't like being hypnotised?”
“I don't think I can afford the time to rest.”
“Nonsense,” Hannah said and slid off the bench. She stood up. We are still hours away from leaving Confederation territory. Then we must head north. The men are preparing the emissaries in shifts, and the officers are discussing plans and contingencies. The only thing you can do is rest. Your time will come when we enter the city and find Abraxas, not before.”
“You're right, of course. Thank you.”
“There is one thing you can do before seeing the doctor,” Hannah said and sighed.
“What's that?”
“Go and see your young protégé in the engineering car. She is driving the engineers to distraction.”
“And how is she doing that exactly?” said Luise with a barely contained smile on her lips.
“Please, go and see for yourself,” Hannah said and held up her hands. “I would be grateful if Emilia Ardelean became your responsibility for the duration of this mission, and,” she whispered, “long after that.”
“I'll see what I can do.”
“Thank you,” Hannah said and walked to the door at the end of the car. The lamps flickered again as she opened it and passed from one car to the next. Luise heard the officers greet Hannah, and then it was quiet as the German shut the door behind her.
Emilia Ardelean, Luise mused, reminded her of herself, in more ways than one. But it wasn't the tragic similarities of them both losing their parents, Luise was older than Emilia had been when her parents died, and she did not know the details of Emilia's parents' deaths. No, it was Emilia's passion for engineering and machines that struck a common chord between them. Luise patted her thigh and felt the familiar shape of the leather tool wallet wrapped like a garter around her leg. Emilia seemed to have a way with machines, an understanding as it were, something that Luise could identify with. It was the forging of new ideas and the shifting of boundaries, beyond those of established science, that seemed to occupy and encourage their interest in machinery. Luise's interest in khronoglyphs and the ability to transcend conventional achievements through traditional, more grounded means, was ultimately responsible for the current predicament. And yet, Luise couldn't help feeling a sense of profound achievement, no matter how devastating the results. In short, it thrilled her, and it scared her too – the unpredictability of it all. If I could just master it, she thought, then I could set things right and make amends. I could put khronoglyphs to a practical use, which is what I originally intended, of course. Luise started and caught herself mid thought.
“Typical,” she said aloud. “I have forgotten all about Emilia and her Şteamƙin. I should get down to engineering.” Luise stood up and smoothed her skirt before walking the length of the car. With one hand pressed to her side, she opened the door to the next car.
The second of the two passenger cars smelled of activity as the officers smoked and spilled ink upon maps. Batmen oiled the officers' guns and shined their boots. Swords gleamed in the scabbards attached to thick leather belts hung from chairs. The car was longer than the one Luise had begun her journey in and it took much longer to walk the length of it as she weaved between the map tables and sandboxes containing the miniature walls of a model city that Luise took to be Arkhangelsk. A straight track ran all the way to the gates of the city, and Luise stopped for a moment to pick up a tiny emissary forged in brass and scaled to fit the model train that was placed on the tracks.
“Direktor Wallendorf loves his models,” explained a young officer as he held out his hand. “May I?”
“Yes, I am sorry,” Luise said and placed the emissary on the officer's palm. He positioned the emissary in the sand by the track and picked up a pad of paper tucked inside a leather wallet.
“I am sorry,” he said. “I was making a sketch before briefing my men.�
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“It is me that is sorry. Please, carry on,” Luise said and continued to the end of the car. She heard the scratch of the officer's pencil the moment she stepped past him.
Beyond the third and final passenger car, engineering buzzed with a different kind of energy, accompanied by an orchestra of hammers tapping and tamping metal, wind gusting and flames roaring through forges, and the familiar smells of creativity that tickled the nostrils and stung the palates of makers young and old. Luise forgot the pain in her side as her curiosity was peeked, directed here and there to small projects of infinite detail she hesitated to disturb, and the greater more robust wrenches of bolts and the greasing of ball joints. She found Emilia, the bottom half of her at least, hanging in a leather swing seat suspended with straps fastened around Kettelpot's globus tank. Emilia, from the waist up, was squirmed inside the boiler, and Luise could hear the bristles of the wire brush she used to clean the rust from inside the tank. A quick glance at Kettlepot's faceplate suggested the emissary was content, but Luise banished the idea a second later. Emilia, she reminded herself, said there must be steam to activate the Şteamƙin. That much, at least, she had understood.
Luise lifted her hand to rap her knuckles on the boiler.
“Please, Miss,” said an elderly engineer. The insignia on his shirt suggested he was a senior member of the engineering department. “The young lady is busy. It would be a shame to disturb her, if you know what I mean?”
Luise lowered her hand and smiled at the look in the man's eyes. “Has she been difficult?”
“Difficult?” the man said and sighed. “Enthusiastic more like. And stubborn,” he added after a moment's pause. “Don't get me wrong, she knows her stuff. She might even know more than all of us put together,” he swept his hand around the car. “It's just...”
“Her manner?” Luise suggested.
“Aye, that's it all right.” The engineer looked relieved. “Her manner is what is so difficult.”
Luise looked around the space surrounding Kettlepot and found a small wooden stool. She sat down and smiled at the engineer as he went back to his workspace, confident, for the moment at least, that Luise was not about to disturb the young girl cleaning the emissary's guts. The harsh scratchings of wire bristles inside the globus tank continued at the same enthusiastic pace and Luise leaned her back against the door of a tool cabinet as she watched the girl's legs swing back and forth with each scratch of the brush.
