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Authors: J. Gregory Keyes

Tags: #Fantasy, #Fiction, #General, #Biographical, #Historical

Empire of Unreason (53 page)

BOOK: Empire of Unreason
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“Ah. Then you organized this expedition for your own benefit?”

“Ah, no. I organized nothing—as always, I’m a mere tagalong.”

“Then I don’t understand what spurred it, though I am more than
grateful.”

“Our friend, the Don of Ivitachuca, is responsible, though Nairne
endorsed it. Scarcely a day after you left, Mr. Priber had
intelligence of airships among his beloved Cherokee. He hurried off
to mend any problems there, but not before directing our attention
toward the Coweta, which his spies were sure was the next
destination of the fliers. The Don was all afire, demanding that he
be allowed to ride to your rescue. Nairne agreed, of course.”

“Why did I get no word of this on the aetherschreiber?”

“We sent it, but never got confirmation from you.”

“I never saw any such message.” Franklin rubbed his jaw. “That’s
bad, for that means they have some method of interrupting—and
most likely reading—our communications. I suspected this, but that
makes it no happier to know. Oh, well—our important
communiques go in cryptogram, at least. And what is Euler doing
here?”

Euler heard and answered for himself. “I think I can still be of help
to you but none to your army, as they do not trust me.”

“I cannot claim that
I
trust you,” Franklin said.

“But you can keep an eye on me, no?”

EMPIRE OF UNREASON


That’s
true,” Franklin allowed.

The rest of the rescue party seemed to be Apalachee warriors. They
affected the same mixture of European and Indian style as their
leader, though some tended much to the Indian side. The same
could be said, probably, of their ancestry. Some bore strikingly
European features, though all were some degree of copper in hue.

A few even sported small goatees, the first facial hair Franklin had
ever seen on Indians.

Hoofbeats and a shrill war cry sent them all turning, though by the
time Franklin managed his horse, a palisade of muskets had
already been erected.

It was with great relief that he recognized Don Pedro, who pranced
his fine Spanish stallion into their midst, holding aloft four bloody
scalps.

“Now the Coweta know the Apalachee have been among them!” the
Don shouted. “Let there be no doubt of how we treat our enemies!

Let there be no doubt that the cowardly Coweta have learned!”

He was answered by the salute of every Apalachee musket.

“Ah,” Voltaire said, wincing and patting his ears. “I misunderstood!

I thought our goal was to escape the Coweta, not summon them
hither.”

McPherson was close enough to catch that. “They can’t have much
doubt of where we went anyway,” he said. “A group this size can
hardly travel without sign. They’ll come or not, depending on
whim.”

“They’ll want revenge, won’t they?”

“Revenge, yes. But to their way of thinking, they needn’t take their
revenge on us in particular. They can have it by killing
any

Englishman or Apalachee.”

EMPIRE OF UNREASON

“That’s an odd way of thinking.”

McPherson shrugged. “Not so different from what we know, if you
think close. War is nation against nation. In European armies,
officers are considered inviolate, yet they are the ones who direct
the action. What man in the English infantry ever knew the
Frenchman he killed? When did it ever have to do with personal
grudges?”

“Yes, and I find that odd, too,” Franklin replied. “There is nothing
logical about war.”

“A fine thing to say just after you start one,” Voltaire commented.

“Aye,” Franklin agreed glumly.

Don Pedro trotted his mount up to Ben. “I hope you are well, my
friend.”

“Thanks to you and yours, yes. I cannot find enough thanks to
offer.”

“You may thank us by giving us the privilege of accompanying you
to New Paris,” the Don replied.

Franklin looked to McPherson, who nodded imperceptibly.

“We are the ones who would be honored,” Franklin said, trying not
to gag at the sight of the bloody parcels still clutched in Don Pedro’s
fist.

“God is with us,” the Apalachee assured him. “He will protect us
from the heathen, even as he protected Moses.”

Franklin agreed aloud, but couldn’t help but wish the Don had
chosen a different comparison. After all—Moses himself had never
made it to the promised land.

EMPIRE OF UNREASON

But they were alive, and free, and only just barely tortured, and for
the moment he could be pretty happy with that.

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