I returned to my quarters only ten minutes later, still pondering over my strange interview with the Prince of France. My aches and pains from my less-successful bouts against the man had grown as I walked, until I was nearly limping through the corridors. Despite the pain, I was more than happy to have Damocles restored to my possession. It would likely be quite useful against anyone I would encounter. Perhaps that concern was only a bit of paranoia; after all, there was no guarantee anyone would be waiting to ambush me in the corridors, or at the door of my apartments. Unfortunately, there was no guarantee that such threats were missing either, and between the Russians, the Marshall, and the ever-present danger of Devonshire’s compatriots, it was always going to be safer armed than unarmed.
To my surprise, the only person I found waiting for me, however, was Charlotte. She was still in her servants’ uniform, with only the calm, reserved expression she had decided a dutiful German servant would wear. When she met my eyes, however, I could see worry in them, and I realized suddenly that Patricia was not with her.
Anxiety shot through me, but I merely nodded to her in formal greeting. “Ms. Rabenstrange, how good of you to come here. Is Ms. Bingham well?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes, though I must admit I came here hoping to find her, Herr Baron. She has not been in her rooms since she received your message this morning.”
“She hasn’t?” Only a supreme act of willpower kept my sudden anxiety from seeping into my voice. There were a hundred threats onboard the embassy for me, but Patricia would likely be in just as much danger. Had one of our foes managed to find her? “Did she say where she was going?”
Charlotte shook her head slowly, and I noticed her hands were tense as she brushed at her skirts. “She did not. I had assumed that she was coming to see you.”
“I see.” I nodded to myself, as if panic was running like a river through my thoughts. My mind whirled as I sought to discover which threat might have captured her. It could have been any number of people, with any number of ties to the French, the Russians, or Devonshire. How was I to know which…
A familiar whiff of strong tobacco smoke jarred me out of my reverie. I turned carefully and slowly to face the nearby corridor, noting there was no other sign of anyone else present. Dropping my hand to the hilt of my sword, I called out softly. “Moses, you may as well come out. I assume you’ve already found your sister.”
There was a pause, and then I thought I heard a muffled oath. Moses dropped from a maintenance shaft a moment later, his coat and clothing looking all the more rumpled for their time in the cramped spaces. He grimaced as he hit the ground. “How’d you know I was here?”
I smiled, though I felt little except anger at his casual tone. “No matter. Where have you taken her?”
He dropped his hand beneath his coat, where I was certain he now held his pistol. “I was about to ask you the same thing, Baron. I still haven’t been able to find her, but you I can at least take into custody.”
His confidence was an annoyance I decided to ignore. If he had not taken Patricia, then someone else had. I considered the possibility of disabling him, to make sure he could cause no trouble in the future, but after a heartbeat, I discarded the idea. However irritating and frustrating the man might be, he could be of use now. “She’s missing, Moses. I need you to help me find her.”
Moses went still for a moment, and then he grinned. “You really expect me to believe that? You could have me running all over this place while she gets away.”
“She doesn’t run, Moses. You should know that as well as anyone.” I kept my voice level, and I stepped forward. “I had to practically beg her to go into hiding with me, even with her wounds. You think she would really run from you?”
His eyes were steady, though I thought I could see some measure of doubt appear in their depths. “I don’t see who else she has to worry about around here.”
“Then you are as blind as you are stubborn.” I heard Charlotte mutter something under her breath, but I ignored it and stepped forward again. “She’s here with me because there are dangers onboard, things that you’ve never even considered before. That’s what we are here to stop.”
Moses snorted, twitching his mustache as he leaned back. “Yeah right. I’ve heard plenty of stories from outlaws wanting to avoid the judge, but I’m not going to fall for yours just because you know my sister. You know what I think happened?” He leaned closer. “I think you are covering for her. She sent that little messenger to you to tell you to run, but I found you first, and now you’re just playing for time.”
“Nothing could be further from the truth.” Another step, and the distance was about what I would need. “Time is short, and I have none left to bargain with you. Either help me, or get out of my way, but make your choice now.”
“And if I decide to stay in your way?” I heard the click of a revolver’s hammer under his coat, and he smiled. “What will you do then?”
“I’ll go right through you, of course.” I saw incredulity on his face and gave him a cold smile of my own. “I’m not unarmed this time, Moses, and I have better things to do. I can’t afford to mess about.”
He studied me for a moment, and I had the pleasure of seeing his uncertainty grow. His smile slowly faded away until there was nothing left of his bravado. I gave him no sign of hesitation; indeed, I took yet another step forward, and his eyes twitched slightly to my hands. They widened when he saw Damocles at my waist, and his features grew a bit pale. “A Distillation blade, huh? Thought those weren’t so common around here.”
I took another step forward, and he took one back. “They are not. A friend provided it to me, so that we could have a chance to do what we had to do.”
He took another step back, clearly hoping to regain some distance between us. “The way you’re talking, you might as well just say you’re here to kill the dragon, outlaw.”
“Which one?” I let the question hang in the air for a moment until his eyes shot wide open. Then I turned back toward Charlotte, who was still waiting at the door to my apartments. “We’ll go back to your rooms; we might as well start there.”
Charlotte curtsied, her expression nearly unreadable. “Of course, my lord.”
When I turned back, Moses was staring at me as if he had never seen me before. The Marshall had not made any attempt to draw his weapon, and from the expression on his face I guessed that he never would. Satisfied, I nodded to him and started down the corridor, with Charlotte hurrying to catch up. As I passed him, Moses took his hand from his gun and grabbed my arm, his voice rough.
“What have you gotten her into, outlaw?”
I paused, and then let out a slow exhalation of air. “Something I truly regret, Moses.” Shaking off his hand, I looked back at him. “Come if you wish, or stay, but she needs help. I’m going to give it to her.”
After another heartbeat, Moses nodded. I let Charlotte lead the way, keeping my eyes on the corridors around us. If someone had taken Patricia, they would not be shy about ambushing Charlotte or me as well. I almost hoped they would; any survivors would be able to give us clues as to her whereabouts.
Most unfortunately, no thugs, soldiers, or assassins intercepted us before we reached the rooms Patricia had taken. Charlotte opened the door, and I peered cautiously inside. None of the furniture or belongings appeared to have been disturbed, and Patricia had clearly not returned. I looked back at Charlotte. “Mrs. Pryor, I will ask you to stay inside and lock the door. We will come for you once we find her. Be careful; for all we know, they might try for you as well.”
She nodded curtly, her servant’s demeanor falling away for a moment. “They’ll regret it if they do. I spent half the morning rigging up a surprise for any intruders.” Moses grunted, and she glanced at him. “Get her back and don’t cause Hector any trouble. Otherwise, I’ll have my husband burn you alive.”
Without further commentary, she retreated behind the door. Once it was closed and secure, I turned to proceed down the corridor Charlotte had said Patricia had used. Moses trailed in my wake, occasionally glancing back at the door. “What did she mean by that, exactly?”
“An ifrit’s wife tends to be a bit literal, I’m afraid.” I would have grinned to myself, but the idea of Patricia alone and in danger robbed the humor from the situation. We quickly reached a branching part of the corridor, with two opposite possibilities.
I frowned. “A choice then. The right corridor seems like it would lead further into the ship, not to one of the exits.”
Then I glanced at the other corridor, hoping to see some sign. “If she used the other corridor, however, she would have been headed for one of the viewing platforms. I see no reason for her to have gone there. Wouldn’t you agree?”
After another moment, Moses answered. “You’re right. If I was a gambling man, I’d say she was headed back to those mechanical areas you two visited the other day.”
I tried to conceal my displeasure at the fact that he had been following us that closely. “Near the gondolas?”
“No, the other section.” He pointed along one branch. “The maintenance shafts would be an easy way to get there from here, but I’m guessing she just walked.” Then he stopped and grimaced. “From there, she could reach the gondolas easily, without anybody noticing. For all I know, she could be halfway through London right now.”
I peered at him curiously. “So, you think she went that way because she was running?”
He nodded. “It’s the most direct path to get clear of this place. If I needed to leave, that’s where I would go. Going the other way would only have you run into more people, which is the last thing you’d want if you were hiding.”
Then I smiled. “But it would be the first thing you would do if you were looking for someone.” I turned back to the other branch, the one leading off towards the observation post. “Let us try this path first, then we can return if we do not find something.”
I set off down the corridor before Moses could protest, and after a moment, I heard him stalking after me in his cavalry boots. We traveled for some time in silence; my preoccupation with Patricia’s whereabouts and well-being prevented me from engaging in idle chatter, and Moses’ own worries likely did the same for him.
We reached the viewing station after a short walk through the ship. It was a rather impressive place, with a clear, unobstructed view of the city from the air. The fittings of the room indicated that it must have once been a gunnery mount, but the French had repurposed it to give idle members of their staff or guests the chance to look out over all of London. I could picture Patricia pausing here to take in the sweeping vista, full of soaring towers and blue sky, but I could not, for the life of me, figure out why she would have come here at all.
Just as I started to doubt my earlier intuition, I caught sight of someone approaching the station from another corridor which led to it. Hoping they had seen her, I called out to them.
Imagine my regret when the man turned, and I recognized the sullen features of Capitaine Chatelain. The French officer had seen better times; the beginnings of a harsh bruise surrounded his left eye, and his uniform looked rather rumpled, as if he had been tossed about. He glared at me for a moment, and then came stomping towards me with anger clouding his face.
Uncertain of his intentions, I laid a cautious hand on Damocles’ hilt, but he did not seem to notice or care as he came directly toward me. He pointed a finger at me like a dagger. “You, Herr Baron, are an oaf and a madman.”
Angered despite myself, I drew myself up sharply. His insulting behavior was regrettably in line with his earlier accusations towards me, but it was still unusual for him to say such things after our previous exchange. “Have you forgotten our wager, Capitaine? I thought our quarrel resolved.”
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He waved the question aside, turning away from me in obvious frustration and anger. “Yes, yes, I do not question your honor or resolve. Now I only question your love or your sanity.”
I heard Moses cough behind me, and I felt fairly certain it was an ill-fated attempt to conceal a laugh. Letting a slight chill enter my tone, I responded with stiff formality. “I fail to understand your reasoning, Capitaine, and I have business to attend to. Unless you have seen my fiancée, I will be on my way.”
“Your fiancée! That is exactly what I am talking about.”
I froze midstep, and exchanged a look with Moses. Then I turned to face Chatelain again, my heart racing. “Explain, Capitaine.”
The man either was so wrapped up in his own temper that he did not notice the demand, or he did not care. Either way, he continued as if I had not spoken. “I was making my rounds, as a man of duty does, when I noticed your charming Ms. Bingham speaking with some of the staff. She seemed friendly, even relaxed, and I smiled at her as I approached. I asked her what she was about, and she said it was a personal matter, that I should not worry. I said it is the duty of all Frenchmen to worry about the concerns of a beautiful woman. She demurred, but the blush told me she thought the comment nice.”
My grip tightened on my sword, but Moses laid a hand on my arm. I glared at him a moment, but relented. Chatelain continued his story, pacing back and forth across the enclosure of the viewing station. “I persisted in asking how I might be able to help. She asked after a servant, some fool named Boris, saying she needed to speak with him urgently. The situation is clear, I thought. She has tired of her foolish Baron and wishes to leave. I drew close, told her I could make her feel welcome here, even if a voyou such as you could not, but she turned away. Turned away!”
He leveled a finger at me again, his expression clearly distraught. “You have hurt her, you boor, so badly that she does not trust in love. As I spoke, she looked past me and interrupted, telling me she had to go. The fear in her voice twisted my heart, and I put a hand out to stop her, telling her I would protect her from all harm, and that she need not ever see you again.”
Chatelain then pointed at his bruised eye, and his voice rose to the level of a shout. “Then she struck me! In the face!”
It was a sudden, immense struggle to restrain my laughter, almost as difficult as it had been to contain my temper. I heard Moses trying, unsuccessfully, to conceal another bark of laughter. Luckily for us both, the Frenchman never noticed. He threw up his hands and resumed pacing.
“The little minx was off before I could recover. I barely had time to see her go, and by the time I tried to catch up with her, she was gone.”
My urge to laugh was fading. Clearly, she had been on some sort of mission, though why she had not waited for me, I could not say. I spoke in what I hoped was a controlled tone, free of the humor I felt at the image of Patricia knocking the man flat on his backside. “Did you see which way she went, Capitaine.”
“I did, but I shall never tell you.” He rounded on me, his red face now letting the purple bruise stand out more clearly. “Either you have wounded her heart so badly that she rejects all men, or you have so little sense that such abuses seem affection to you. Which is it, Baron? Tell me, that I might make your disgrace known to all.”
I fixed the overwrought man with a stern look. “My fiancée has a rather—definite—manner in which she expresses rejection, Capitaine. Her heart remains unscathed, but she apparently felt it was important to dissuade you from following her.” When his expression remained obdurate, I continued in a much less sympathetic tone. “You should consider yourself lucky, Capitaine. If she had not seen fit to rebuke you in such a manner, I might have felt the need to do so myself—and I do not feel the same measure of restraint she did. A gentleman should know better than to try to seduce a woman without her encouragement, and she has given you none.”
The Capitaine drew himself up short, and for a moment I thought he would spit his defiance in my face. Then he seemed to deflate in on himself, his bravado and indignation collapsing. He covered his face with his hands. “You are right, to my shame, but you are right. I must find her and apologize for my behavior. I acted like nothing but a schoolboy.”
“Another time, Capitaine. For now, we need to find her. Which way was she going?”
Chatelain looked up, surprise twisting his features. “She was headed for the gallery, where the kitchens are kept. I can show you the way.”
I was about to refuse the offer, but Moses broke in before I could. “That’s much appreciated, sir.” When I opened my mouth again, he elbowed me in a way that reminded me very much of his adoptive sister. “Time is of the essence, however, so if you could start right away, we would be much obliged.”
Conceding the point, I nodded curtly, and the Capitaine quickly gestured for us to follow him. I allowed him to walk ahead of me; Moses soon joined him, and the two men were quickly engaged in some sort of conversation about a trade mission between their two countries. It would have been an interesting discussion, but instead I allowed my mind to wander as we walked, wondering what could have possibly lured Patricia out of the safety of her rooms. Had she believed that I was neglecting her? Maybe she had sensed some threat that Charlotte had failed to see? Regardless, when I found her, we were going to have some words about the dangers of our mission, and the need to see to them together, rather than haring off alone.
Soon enough, we arrived at the kitchens. The galley was impressive, even for a warship this size; the room had been a munition storage room, but now it was nearly filled with various stoves, tables, and iceboxes. Cooks and their assistants bustled between the various stations, and I could see a veritable feast was being prepared. Vaguely, I recalled another ball had been planned for later that evening; surely at least some of these victuals were being made ready for that august event.
The instant we set foot in the galley, a man with a finely tailored suit appeared, rushing over to us with the manner of an anxious functionary. “My friends, my friends, we cannot spare a moment for you. Any requests for dishes must wait until after the ball. Please, until then, go and enjoy some of the fine specimens we have prepared for you in the dining hall.”
Chatelain held up a hand. “We do not need food, Adrien. Have you seen a woman arrive here? She has hair like a shining sunset, and eyes like emeralds.”
I grunted sourly at that overwrought description, and Moses coughed again. Adrien, however, nodded immediately. “Ah, yes, the other guest. She arrived some time ago, looking for old Boris. I sent her back to the freezer, where he was inspecting the meat. I think his other friends are back there as well.”
“His friends.” I fought down a flicker of impatience. “What friends?”
“Oh, a couple of the embassy staff, soldiers like the good captain.” The functionary paused, glancing at Capitaine Chatelain for a moment before he continued. “I suppose that at least you will stay out of the kitchens. Here, I will show you where he is.”
Chatelain gave me a curious glance, but I ignored him. Moses appeared to suddenly be on alert as well, hopefully because he suspected the same thing I did. If Patricia had not returned yet, it was because she had been captured. It was unlikely that Devonshire’s men would have been able to drag her through the kitchens unnoticed, so it was likely that she was still back there, being held until the enemy felt it would be wise to move her. I surreptitiously readied my sword and heard a creak of leather as Moses eased his pistol in its holster.
We followed Adrien through the kitchens, dodging waiters burdened with plates of food and chefs anxiously testing various dishes. Before long, we had left the main kitchen behind, traveling further into the airship as the man provided a nonstop flow of chatter about the six-course meal being prepared for the dining service later that day.
“I’m quite sure you will all find it very enchanting. Especially you, Capitaine; I made sure that Chef Michel prepared that risotto you are so fond of.” Adrien nudged the Capitaine with an elbow, who looked vaguely uncomfortable for a moment. Then he stopped, looking ahead of us with a frown. “That…is odd.”
I stepped up beside him, my hand already on the hilt of my sword. Down a short hallway ahead of us was a gigantic cast iron door. It looked as if it had been the original entrance to the munitions room, and had been spectacularly reinforced. An entire company of sappers would be needed to cut through it. “What is this place?”
Adrien looked askance at me for my abrupt tone, but he answered in spite of his affront. “Our cold room is back here, but the door has been locked. From the outside.” He shook his head. “That’s quite dangerous, I’m afraid. Anyone inside would have to wait until someone came along to—”
I was already in motion before he had finished his explanation. Damocles came free of the sheath by the time I took my second step, and as Capitaine Chatelain began his aborted shout of protest, I was already swinging at the heavy iron door.
The blade bit into the metal as if it were simple wood, leaving a deep notch when I yanked it free. Moses stepped up behind me, his pistol in his hand. “Is she in there?”
“She has to be.” I swung again, and Damocles bit deeper into the metal. It felt like I was attempting to cut through a wall. “They must have discovered her talking with this Boris and surprised her. Otherwise, she would have been back by now.”
Chatelain made a noise of surprise behind me, and I swung a third time. This time I was rewarded with a sudden burst of cold air, which rushed out as if I had somehow opened a door into a place of deep winter chills. I grimaced, pulled the sword free with a grunt, and chopped down one last time.
The lock gave way with a shriek of ruined metal, and I reached forward to pull on its handle. Prepared for the worst, I yanked the now-ruined door wide open.
Inside, I found row upon row of meat hanging from hooks or stored in large racks. The floor was covered in frost, and the air spilling out of the room was cold enough that my breath fogged in the air. Boxes had been piled on the floor, carrying labels in French and English that marked them as various kinds of meat or other perishable goods.
Patricia sat on top of one of those boxes, wrapped in the coat of a French soldier. Two coats, actually, one layered on top of the other. The former owners of the coats were laid out on the floor in front of her, sporting large bruises. They had been tied together and gagged with what had to have been scraps torn from her formerly fine dress. She was pale, and her lips blue, but her green eyes still flashed with impatience as she glared at us. “Took you long enough.”
What followed remained something of a blur. Adrien immediately called for help from the kitchens, and Patricia and the two soldiers were immediately freed from their icy prison. Swathed in thick blankets and afforded warm soup, Patricia recovered quite quickly. Still unconscious and nearly blue from the cold, the soldiers did not appear to fare nearly as well, but Oliver retrieved some bags of hot water to lay on them to aid in their recovery.
“They caught me just as I was about to take him. Blasted mercenaries.” She blew on her hands, apparently having decided that continuing to act as a rich heiress was a lost cause.
“With whom were you going to speak, my dear?” She gave me a level look, as if she had thin patience for my foolishness, but Chatelain was listening, so I was not as quick to abandon my false accent. Then she sighed.
“A man named Boris Sokolov. I heard he was a man who could…obtain things if you needed them. Just the type of man that someone would need to get their hands on something the embassy wouldn’t want onboard. There’s one of them everywhere, so I figured I’d find somebody like that here too, no matter what the French say.”
Moses stirred beside me, but Chatelain broke in before either of us could speak. “What made you seek him out in the first place, my lady? I would have been happy to provide anything you required.”
She paused, glancing at Chatelain. “I heard about my fiancée meeting our…old friend with the Russian envoys and wondered if he knew them somehow. It turns out I got a little more than I expected.”
Moses snorted. “That’s not a surprise.” Patricia glared at her brother, and he shrugged insolently. “You haven’t changed that much, sister.”
Patricia raised an eyebrow. “It seems like you haven’t either, from what Echtor has been telling me. Are we going to settle things now?”
I tensed, expecting them to spring at each other, but after a moment Moses shrugged again. “Maybe another time. Might be a bit inconvenient at the moment.”
Chatelain was looking back and forth between them in rising confusion, but I spoke before he could as the question that was clearly on his lips. “This Boris, is he part of the envoys from Russia, then?”
“No.” Patricia shook her head sharply. “He has been here for years, practically since the New War. Turns out Boris is a refugee from some of the Eastern Troubles. He hates royalty; kings, czars, emperors, you name it. Thinks they should all be burned for their misdeeds.”
Chatelain made an indignant noise, and Moses grinned at him. “Might as well have gone all the way to the States then, from the sound of it. Probably isn’t too happy about the guests aboard right now.”
“Exactly.” Patricia looked down at the cup in her lap, frustration clear on her face. “While he talked, I grew worried that he was going to do something desperate, something unwise.” She looked up at me, and I read the message in her eyes. The man had been part of Devonshire’s plot, likely the connection he would use to link the entire catastrophe to the Russians. “Just when I was about to…talk him out of it, those two came in.”
She grimaced and kicked the nearest one in the side. The soldier groaned slightly and shifted a little under the blanket. “They didn’t like the fact that I was there, and seemed to want to drag us both out by the hand. I said I didn’t want to go, and then they grabbed me.”
The rest hardly needed an explanation. A quick search had revealed that her extremely decorative handbag had been weighted down by an iron bar, roughly the same size and shape of the soldiers’ bruises. I started to chuckle and glanced at Chatelain. “I told you that you fared rather well with her. You should be grateful for your good luck.” Moses grunted as if in agreement, and the French officer rolled his eyes and sighed.
Patricia cleared her throat, bringing our eyes back to her. “While I was…ah, negotiating with them, Boris ran for it. He closed the door before I could reach it, and after that, I was just sitting there, freezing my toes off.” She brought the cup to her lips again, breathing in the steam. “At least you finally got here, otherwise they might as well have been serving me for dinner.”
“Oh, we would never have done such a thing, mamoiselle.” Adrien spoke with a kind of nervous, relentless energy, looking over the soldiers on the floor. “It would have been in quite poor taste.”
Patricia watched him for a moment, evidently at a loss for words. “Of course.”
“Now, if you would all wait here for a moment, the gendarmes will be here shortly, and we shall sort this whole thing out.”
I exchanged urgent looks with both Moses and Patricia, both of whom were looking rather alarmed now. “Your pardon, monsieur, what did you say?”
The functionary looked confused. “I said the gendarmes should be here quite soon. I sent for them as soon as you started to cut through my door. You really should not have been so hasty, you know.” He clucked in disapproval over them, shaking his head as if at a ruined soup. “They should be here any—ah, here they are.”
I looked up to find an entire squad of muscle-bound Frenchmen, all armed and with belligerent expressions. Very carefully, I eased my hand away from my sword; out of the corner of my eye, I saw Moses do the same with his pistol.
It was not looking like such a promising day, after all.