by Amanda Quick
“Ye’d better be in there with the money ye promised, ye sneaky bastard.” Harry rapped harder. “I’ve carried out me end o’ the bargain and I’ve come for me pay.”
This section of the docks was deserted at this hour. Warehouses and storage buildings loomed dark and silent in the swirling fog. The soft murmur of the black water had a hungry sound, as though the river anticipated prey. Vessels of various sizes groaned and creaked and sighed as they shifted gently against the ropes that secured them. The only light was the weak glow of Harry’s lantern. It reflected wildly in the fog, creating an unearthly glare near the shed door.
Harry rapped on the wooden panel. “We ‘ad a bargain, damn yer eyes. I’ve come for me money. No one cheats One-Eared ‘Arry.”
Hinges squeaked. From where he stood, Edison could see the shed door open partway to reveal a wedge of inky darkness. A voice emanated from the shadows.
“You met with the One Who Went Outside the Circle?”
“Now see ‘ere, I don’t know nothing about any circle. I met with Stokes, just like we agreed.”
“You told him exactly what I instructed you to tell him?”
“Aye. And now I’ve come for me money. Where is it?”
“If you have carried out your duties, you are of no further use to me.”
“What d’ye mean?” Harry stepped back quickly. The lantern in his hand swung wildly. “Now see ‘ere, we ‘ad a bargain.”
“Indeed we did, Mr. One-Eared Harry.” The door opened wider. “You have betrayed your friend, have you not?”
“That’s a bloody lie,” Harry protested. He sounded genuinely offended. “I didn’t betray Stokes. Why would I do that? ‘Im and me is friends. We’ve been business associates from time to time.”
“Nevertheless, tonight you betrayed him.”
“I just relieved ‘im of some of ‘is blunt, is all. ‘E won’t miss it. ‘E’s got more than enough and that’s a bloody fact. It was just business.”
“On the contrary. You have lured him to this meeting, where he will meet great defeat.”
“The devil I did,” Harry snapped. “I didn’t lure him anywhere. We both know there ain’t no pie shop in Oldhead Lane and no rooms above it, either.”
“He is no fool. He is One Who Could Have Been Grand Master. He will not go to Oldhead Lane. He will have followed you here. And here his legend will be destroyed forever.”
“Now ‘old on just one bloody damn minute.” Harry took another step back and held up a hand. “If ye think I told ‘im those things to make ‘im follow me so that ye could get yer bloody ‘ands on ‘im, yer as mad as a bedlamite.”
“I am not mad, Mr. One-Eared Harry. I am an Initiate of the Great Circle of Vanza. Tonight I employed the Strategy of Deception to draw out the One Who Could Have Been Grand Master.”
“Why’d ye want to go and do that?” Harry whined.
“When I defeat him in honorable combat, I will prove to my master that I am worthy of being initiated into the next Level of Ascendancy.”
“God’s blood, yer talkin’ gibberish, ye are.”
“Enough.” The dark figure shifted in the shadows of the doorway. A moment later a second lantern flared to life. “I do not have the time to waste discussing great matters which you can never hope to comprehend.”
Edison moved out of his place of concealment, closing the distance between himself and the dark figure who stood in the shed’s doorway.
“I think it’s time you left, Harry,” Edison said quietly.
“What the devil?” Harry raised his lantern, half turning to peer into the swirling fog. “Stokes? What the bloody ‘ell are ye—”
The shed door opened wider. A man dressed entirely in black, his features concealed behind a cloth mask, emerged.
The Vanza fighter took two quick steps, leaped high into the air, and lashed out with his foot. The blow struck Harry in the ribs. Harry gave a muffled grunt and toppled backward over the edge of the dock. There was a resounding splash when he hit the water. The lantern he had been clutching sank like a stone. The light winked out. Silhouetted in the glare of the lantern he had lit earlier, the Vanza fighter bowed formally to Edison.
“O Legendary One Who Went Outside the Circle. O Great One Who Could Have Been Grand Master, you will honor me by giving me the victory tonight.”
Edison winced. “Do you always talk like that?”
The young fighter stiffened. “I speak with respect to one who is still legend.”
“Who in blazes told you that I was a legend?”
“My master.”
“I’m not a legend,” Edison said softly. “I’m an ex-practitioner of Vanza. There is a very large difference.”
“My master told me that you could have been a Grand Master.”
“To become a Grand Master, one must first call another man Master. I was never very good at that.”
The lack of any splashing sounds was starting to concern Edison. He walked toward the edge of the dock.
“My master says that you could have been the greatest Grand Master of Vanza in all of Europe.”
“Highly unlikely.” Edison risked a quick glance over the side of the dock. There was enough lantern light bouncing off the fog to reveal Harry clinging weakly to a rung embedded in the quay. “By the bye, who is this master of yours?”
“I cannot tell you.” The fighter’s voice dropped to a reverential tone. “I have taken an oath of secrecy.”
“A secret Vanza master? How very odd. Well, I can certainly tell you one thing about him.”
“What is that?” the fighter demanded.
“He is not a good master. Any true practitioner of the arts would have told you that there is nothing courageous or honorable about kicking someone like One-Eared Harry into the river.”
“You are concerned for this One-Eared Harry?” The young man’s voice rose in disbelief. “How can that be? He called himself your friend, yet he betrayed you. He is unworthy of your trust, O Great One Who Could Have Been Grand Master.”
Down below in the water, Harry groaned. It was obvious that he did not have the strength to haul himself out of the river.
Edison reached into his pocket and closed his fingers around the pistol he had brought with him. “Nevertheless, as Harry told you, he and I go back a long way. I really will have to fish him out of the river.”
“Leave him.” The young man went into a fighter’s crouch and began to circle. “Tonight you and I meet in honorable combat.”
Edison removed the pistol and aimed it casually at the Vanza fighter.
“Enough of that. I haven’t got time for it tonight.”
“What is this? A pistol?” The young fighter halted abruptly. His voice shook with outrage. “You would use a pistol? That is not Vanza.”
“No, but it’s effective. One of the reasons why I went outside the circle is that there is much about Vanza which I found to be exceedingly impractical.”
“I will not be denied my victory.”
“Take yourself off or we shall both discover whether or not you can achieve your victory over a bullet.”
The Vanza fighter hesitated only a few seconds.
“There will be another meeting between us,” he finally snarled. “I swear it on my oath as One Who Is Vanza.”
“You know, one of these days, you’ll get tired of talking as though you were on stage.”
But Edison was speaking to the fog. The Vanza fighter had vanished down a dark alley.
Chapter Nineteen
Emma was so relieved to receive the message from the footman that she did not even complain about the manner in which it had been delivered. The only thing that mattered at that moment was that Edison was apparently safe. He had finally arrived at the Smithton house and was waiting for her in his carriage. The fact that it was quite rude for a gentleman to remain in his vehicle while he sent a servant to fetch his fiancée from a ball was not of overriding importance just then.
She clutched
her cloak at her throat and rushed down the steps to the waiting carriage. The interior lamps were unlit, she noticed. A footman opened the door and handed her up inside. Edison was a dark, indistinct shape in the shadows.
“Sir, I have been extremely worried—” She broke off as she sat down and wrinkled her nose. “Good heavens, what is that perfectly dreadful odor?”
“A cologne distilled from the waters of the Thames.” Edison pulled the curtains closed and lit one of the lamps. “I doubt that it will become the rage.”
“What on earth has happened to you?” She stared at him, appalled, as the lantern sputtered and finally flared.
For once in his life, Edison did not look the least bit elegant. He looked and smelled as if he had fallen into a cesspit. He sat ensconced on the opposite seat, swathed from neck to knee in carriage blankets. She realized that she did not want to examine too closely the odd bits and pieces that clung to his wet hair. There was an oily smudge on his cheek that made it appear that he had a black eye. The expensively tailored trousers, shirt, waistcoat, and coat in which he had begun the evening were bundled into a damp, disreputable heap on the floor. Much of the malodorous smell that filled the cab emanated from them.
She asked the first question that popped into her mind. “What happened to your greatcoat?”
“I was obliged to loan it to a friend who fell into the river.”
“Good heavens.” She was struck by the sight of his lower legs and feet, which were bare. He had very large feet, she noticed.
“My apologies for the uncivil way in which I summoned you from the ball,” Edison said. “As you can see, I am not dressed for Lady Smithton’s party.”
She realized she was still staring at his feet. With an effort she jerked her gaze back up to his face.
“You look as though you were the one who fell into the river, sir.”
Edison tightened his grip on the blankets. “I did not precisely fall into the river.”
“Do you mean to say that someone pushed you into it? Good God, my premonition of danger was correct. You were attacked, were you not? That man you went to meet, One-Eared Harry, did he do this to you?”
“Actually, I did it to myself in the process of pulling Harry out of the Thames.”
“Oh, I see.” She was somewhat relieved to hear that. Then a thought struck her. “But how did he fall in?”
“We had an encounter with the Vanza fighter,” Edison said softly.
“Dear heaven, are you certain you are unhurt?”
“Quite certain. There is no damage done that a bath will not correct. But the Vanza practitioner got away because I was obliged to see to Harry.”
“Did you learn anything useful tonight?”
“All I got out of the affair were more questions.” Edison paused. “And confirmation of my suspicion that there is, indeed, a rogue Vanza master operating somewhere in London. He is no doubt after that damned book too.”
“What will you do next?”
“I have been giving the matter a good deal of thought. I believe that it would be interesting to find this master and question him,” Edison said rather casually.
A fresh frisson whispered through Emma. “How will you do that?”
“It should not be too difficult to draw out the young fighter again. Apparently I am standing in the path of his career advancement. He wants to prove himself by challenging me in ritual combat.”
“A duel, do you mean?” Emma’s hands went cold inside her gloves. “Edison, you must not even think of such a thing. You could be injured or killed.”
“Come now, Miss Greyson. Have a bit of faith in your employer. I admit I am not as young as I used to be, but I have grown more crafty over the years. I have every hope of giving a good account of myself.”
“Edison, this is no occasion for jest. It all sounds horribly dangerous. I do not like it.”
“I assure you, there is no cause for concern.” Edison brushed something that was slimy and green off his leg and settled deeper into his seat. “What about you? I assume you could not resist the opportunity to try to question Miranda at the Smithton affair.”
Emma gave a start. “How did you know that I tried to do just that?”
Edison’s mouth twitched. “Because you wanted to prove that you could be successful where I had failed, of course. Any luck?”
She flushed. There was no choice, she thought, squaring her shoulders. She had to tell him the truth. “I not only failed, but I did so rather spectacularly.”
“I beg your pardon?”
She hesitated. “You will not like this, sir, but I must inform you that I may have ruined your scheme to use me as bait for Lady Ames.”
His brows rose. “Ruined it?”
“In my own behalf, I would like to say that it was not my fault that things went awry. I was provoked.”
“Provoked,” he repeated carefully. “By whom? Miranda?”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps you had better tell me the entire tale,” he said.
She switched her gaze to the squabs on the cushion behind him.
“There is not much to relate. Suffice it to say that Lady Ames made certain indelicate references to our engagement.”
“And what, exactly, was the nature of those indelicate references?”
“She leaped to the conclusion that you and I had been intimate.”
“What of it?” he asked without any trace of awkwardness or embarrassment. “It happens to be an accurate conclusion. One we fostered ourselves the night Chilton Crane got shot in your bed chamber.”
She would not let him disconcert her, she vowed. She, too, could be cool and blasé. She clasped her hands very tightly together and fixed her attention determinedly on the squabs. “The thing is, she asked questions.”
Emma knew at once that she had finally got Edison’s interest. He narrowed his eyes in the watchful manner that she had come to recognize.
“Questions?” he said.
“About you. Of a particularly intimate nature, I might add.”
“I see.” A glint of humor lit his eyes. “I have always wondered if women were inclined to gossip about that sort of thing.”
Anger unfurled once more in Emma. “They were questions designed, I believe, to imply that you and she have indulged in a tryst.”
“What were these questions, precisely?”
“She asked me if I had noted a certain tattoo, of all things, on your person.”
“Bloody hell.”
She raised her chin. “The implication, you understand, was that she had seen it when the two of you, uh, when you two ...”
She trailed off, unable to say the words. She waved one gloved hand to indicate the obvious.
Edison no longer looked amused. “A tattoo? Did she describe it?”
“No, she most certainly did not.” Emma was incensed. “Nor did I invite her to do so. The whole thing was most awkward for me, sir.”
“I can well imagine.” There was an unholy glint in his eyes.
“Her very personal questions put me in an extremely difficult position.”
“Indeed.”
She drew herself up. “Therefore, I really do not think it would be at all fair of you to dismiss me from my post merely because I accidentally made an unfortunate remark about actresses.”
He looked thoughtful. “You brought up the subject?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Hardly a subtle approach,” he said dryly.
“I have a feeling that subtlety of any kind is lost on Lady Ames.”
“What exactly did you say about actresses?” Edison asked with grave interest.
She cleared her throat. “Something to the effect that only ladies in vulgar careers, actresses, for example, would boast publicly of their sexual conquests the way she did.”
“I see.” Edison’s voice sounded as though he had choked slightly. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Yes, of course. Actresses.”
Emma peered at
him suspiciously. “Are you laughing at me, sir?”
“I would not dream of doing so.”
“You are laughing.”
He grinned. “Forgive me, Emma, but I would have given a great deal to have seen Miranda’s face when you accused her of acting like a vulgar actress.”
“It may sound amusing to you now, sir, but you will likely change your mind when you reflect upon the results.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you understand? After my remarks, she no doubt suspects that we are on to her. Your plans may be in ruins even as we speak.”
He raised one shoulder in a shrug. “On the contrary. It may have been an excellent moment to apply certain elements of the Strategy of Redirection.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You have unwittingly used one of the Strategies of Vanza, Emma. You indicated to Miranda that you may be in possession of certain facts about her that she believed to be secret.”
“So?”
“So you have, in effect, applied pressure that may force her to move in another direction. Such unplanned changes in a scheme frequently result in mistakes on the part of one’s opponent. It will be interesting to see what she does next.”
Emma eyed him in silence. He gave her an inquiring look. “Was there anything else you wished to tell me?”
“No.”
“Was there anything else you wished to ask me?”
She hesitated and then looked pointedly away from his gleaming eyes. “No.”
“Are you quite certain?”
“Absolutely certain.”
“Hmm. Well, just to clear the air between us, I can assure you that Miranda has never had an occasion to see the sign of Vanza on my chest.”
She stared. “Are you saying that you do have a tattoo?”
“Such a mark is part of the initiation into Vanza.”
“Are you quite certain that Miranda has never seen it?”
