Flora's Dare: How a Girl of Spirit Gambles All to Expand Her Vocabulary, Confront a Bouncing Boy Terror, and Try to Save Califa from a Shaky Doom (Despite Being Confined to Her Room) (10 page)

Udo. In my excitement about the Loliga and the map, I had forgotten about Udo. Now I remembered and went downstairs to breakfast in a very grumpy mood.

“How are you this morning, Flora?” Poppy bustled about the kitchen, buttering waffles, pouring coffee and orange juice, frying bacon. The bacon smelled so delicious—porky and fat—that I took three slices.

“Fine.” Maybe I could sneak something from Mamma’s closet. Though she hardly ever wears civilian dress, she has a lot of clothes.

Poppy glanced at me, but didn’t say anything else, just refilled my coffee cup and sat down across from me while I ate my waffles, ignoring the dogs hovering vulturelike around his chair.

"You all right? You seem rather stiff this morning,” Poppy said.

"I’m fine,” I lied, though I felt about a hundred years old. "Where’s Mamma?”

"She’s not up yet,” Poppy answered. "She was at HQ_ late. Did you see today’s
Alta Califa
?”

He pushed the paper over to me, and when I flipped it over, all the blood rushed out of my head and plummeted to my feet.

POODLE DOG GOES POOF!
FIREMONKEY SINGS SEDITION!
Drummer Implodes. See back page for details.

"It’s a good thing your show wasn’t at the Poodle Dog; the place burned to the ground last night,” Poppy said. "There was a riot and the militia had to get out the gas gun to clear the streets. I believe in freedom of speech, but this Firemonkey goes too far.”

"Ayah. I’m thankful we missed it.” I peeked over the top of the paper to try to gauge Poppy’s mood. He was sipping his coffee almost meditatively. But guilt made me paranoid, and his very calmness was worrisome. Did he realize I had come in late? The Army is all about honor; if you know you’ve done something wrong, even if no one else does, you are supposed to turn yourself in. I had no intention of turning myself in.

Poppy continued, “Califa is in a precarious position. The Birdies will stomp us if we step even an inch out of line. We must do nothing to antagonize them.”

I swallowed my last bite of waffle and said, “These waffles are fabulous, Poppy. The batter is so light and fluffy Can I have another?”

Poppy got up and reloaded the waffle iron with batter, but he wasn’t deterred from his topic. “Treason and sedition can’t be tolerated. Firemonkey says he speaks for Califa’s own good, but if he had his way, he’d pull her to her ruin. I hope the militia catches up with Firemonkey and his moronic cohorts—the sooner the better. Bloodeagle the lot of them.”

His words surprised me. Surely Poppy had no love for the Birdies, not after what they had done to our family to the First Flora. Like the rest of us, he had to suck it up—outwardly, at least. But I would have thought that privately he’d approve of anyone causing the Birdies woe. And also, that he would support any movement designed to rehabilitate the Butcher Brakespeare, his long-dead love.

“I’m sure the militia will catch up with Firemonkey, Poppy” I hoped, of course, that they would not.

“I hope so. Thank heavens no Fyrdraaca has any concern with Firemonkey or his idiotic propaganda. It would be devastating for this family if any of us were found to harbor such sympathies. We, above all other Califians, must be seen to be true to our oath of fealty to the Virreina of Huitzil. The slightest hint of treachery could mean our destruction.”

My breakfast began to bubble in my stomach. I had not thought so particularly about what it might mean if a
Fyrdraaca
were involved with the EI and its stupid plotting. Would Idden reflect upon us all? Surely the Birdies would understand she had acted on her own ... wouldn’t they? I remembered the Butcher Brakespeare—a Flayed Priest had cut her heart out and eaten it. I didn’t want anyone to eat my heart. Or Mamma’s. Or Poppy’s, for that matter. Or even stupid Idden’s.

Poppy dropped another waffle on my plate, and I stared at it.

“What’s wrong? You look ill.”

“Too much bacon, I think, Poppy,” I said, trying to twist my stiff face into a smile.

“I used to love bacon,” Poppy said, “but now the smell makes me rather sick. It smells too much like—well, never mind. Here, I’ll give your waffle to the dogs.” He whisked my plate away and I was glad to see it go. “Or, better yet, to your mother.”

“Good morning!” Mamma sang out, as she came down the Below Stairs. She was in her red silk bathrobe, and her hair stood straight up. She sat down at the kitchen table and Poppy put my plate in front of her. “Waffles, oh how I love waffles, and Hotspur makes the best waffles ever. You look bleary, Flora. How was the show?”

“I missed most of it,” I said, “so I don’t know. I had to be home, you know.”

“Poor punkie,” Mamma said. “Even your gloomy face can’t bring me down today. I’m in a happy, happy mood because I finally got the stupid seating chart for the Warlord’s Birthday Ball worked out. I am a true genius, let me tell you. It’s no picnic trying to make sure that no one ends up next to their worst enemy and yet hierarchy is followed. Protocol is a real bitch. Pass that bacon over here, I’m starved.”

I passed the bacon but Mamma had put her fork down and picked the paper up, and the sharp line between her eyes turned into a knife slash. “Pigface Psychopomp!” Then she said something else, much worse.

“Buck!” Poppy said sharply “Language.”

Mamma waved the paper angrily “This is just dandy. Florian’s going to squee, for Califa’s sake. Those idiot militia morons. They shouldn’t be allowed out of bed in the morning—turning a gas gun on civilians!”

“At least it’s not your fault, Buck,” Poppy said. “No one can blame you.”

“It’s not a matter of blame,” Mamma complained. “I was almost to the point of getting the Birdies to withdraw their detachments from Califa—I had them believing we no longer needed such oversight, and now this. I’m going to kick Colonel Oset from one end of the City to the other. And why didn’t anyone inform me of this earlier? Where was the Officer of the Day? I’m going to kick him, too!”

Mamma threw the paper, and swore again. I would have felt sorrier for Colonel Oset if I hadn’t seen the gas gun in action. Instead, I felt like being kicked by Mamma wasn’t nearly enough punishment. But Mamma’s ire seemed more about the militia’s reaction than the Horses of Instruction’s instigation, which was good. Good for Firemonkey, and for Idden, too.

“I’ve got to get back to the Presidio,” Mamma said. “Wrap me up some bacon, will you, Flora?”

Poppy plunked a coffee cup down in front of Mamma. “Buck, it’s over now—rushing won’t do you any good. They know you are coming and bringing hell to pay Let them stew.”

“True enough—” Mamma was interrupted by a barking chorus. The dogs had left off their begging to hurtle themselves toward the back door, woofing a welcome to Lieutenant Sabre, Mamma’s aide-de-camp, who had appeared in the doorway, his hat in his hand.

“Did you see the paper, Aglis?” Mamma said, when the dogs had subsided enough to allow Lieutenant Sabre to come into the kitchen. Alas, he did not emerge completely unscathed; his skirts were now covered in paw prints and dog hair, ruining his usual perfection.

“I did, General,” he said. “Ave, Colonel Fyrdraaca, Madama Fyrdraaca Segunda.”

Mamma said, “I want to give a statement to the press immed—”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, General,” Lieutenant Sabre said. “May I speak with you privately? It’s important. Very important.”

Lieutenant Sabre, I noticed, looked rather pale, and his lips were pinched together so tightly that they were almost white. But, like a good yaller dog, the golden buttons on his frock coat gleamed, his collar was perky, and his tie perfectly tied. I used to think that Lieutenant Sabre was terribly stuck-up. But he’s the only aide Mamma’s ever had that lasted more than a few weeks, so he clearly has sand.

“I already know all about the idiot militia, Aglis.”

“It’s not that, General,” he said, and suddenly I knew exactly what it was. My stomach sank into my slippers.

“All right, then. Come upstairs to my study” Mamma took her coffee cup, and Lieutenant Sabre followed her upstairs. I watched them go, the sour feeling in my tum growing. Mamma was already in a bad mood; it was only going to get worse. Blast Idden—she wasn’t even here, and she was causing trouble.

“He looks like a man going to his execution,” Poppy remarked, and he would know what a man going to his own execution would look like, I supposed. “Poor bugger.”

He went back to frying bacon and I fiddled with my coffee cup, tense and waiting. After a few minutes, noises began to echo down the Below Stairs. At the stove, Poppy froze, bacon dangling from his tongs. The dogs swiveled their ears, though their eyes never left the bacon. I froze, cup in hand.

Mamma was shouting. Shouting! Mamma never shouts. The angrier she is the quieter she gets; you have to lean in to hear what she’s saying, and each word hurts all the more for having to strain to hear it. Mamma shouting: This was worse than I had expected.

“Finish your breakfast, Flora,” Poppy ordered, abandoning the bacon and running upstairs, dogs falling in behind him.

Of course, I didn’t just sit there. By the time I got upstairs, Poppy had vanished into Mamma’s study; the door was closed, but that didn’t mute the shouting. I hardly even had to lean against the door to hear what she was saying.

“—the hell did it take this long for him to inform me?”

Mumble, mumble. Poor Lieutenant Sabre, the bearer of bad news through no fault of his own.

“Calm down, Buck.” Poppy.

“Three weeks—she’s been missing three whole weeks and I only find out now!” Mamma shouted. Warm fur pushed against me; I looked down to see the dogs huddling around my legs. Their ears were flat on their heads. Somehow dogs always know when something bad has happened. I petted them reassuringly, though I did not feel reassured at all.

For the next few minutes, Mamma shouted, Poppy and Lieutenant Sabre tried to be soothing, and I huddled against the door, my ears burning. Most of Mamma’s anger was focused on the fact that Idden’s commanding officer hadn’t sent a courier as soon as Idden had disappeared from Fort Jones. He had waited a full week before marking her absent on the post returns, and another week before changing her to absent without leave. Only then did he send a courier to the City with his report, and due to heavy rains, the journey from Fort Jones to the City took an extra three days. That’s why Idden had been gone for three weeks, but the report had only arrived now. I felt sorry for Idden’s commanding officer, caught between a rock and a hard place—Idden’s desertion and Mamma’s fury. He had probably hoped Idden would come back before he had to report her.

The door flung open. I jerked out of the way just in time, and Lieutenant Sabre came barreling out. He shut the door behind him and stared at me, wild-eyed. He was practically quivering.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“I’d rather face all the Flayed Riders of Huitzil,” he said, “than the General when she’s angry.”

“You and me both.”

Lieutenant Sabre unbuttoned his tunic and breathed heavily for a minute, then took a case out of his sleeve and wedged a little packet of snus into his lip. He wiped his forehead with his hankie and then rebuttoned his tunic.

“The General is threatening to go to Fort Jones to investigate,” Lieutenant Sabre said. “She doesn’t believe that Captain Fyrdraaca deserted. The General thinks that Captain Fyrdraaca may have met with some misadventure, perhaps while hunting. That she might have fallen in a ravine or been attacked by a wild animal.”

Huh,
I thought.
If only Mamma knew, she might wish idden had been eaten by a bear.

“What do you think?” I asked.

Lieutenant Sabre snorted. “Captain Fyrdraaca was acting quartermaster at the time of her departure from Fort Jones. She is missing and so is the entire quartermaster treasury. That seems pretty definitive to me.”

Pigface! Idden had forgotten to mention that to me. So if they caught her, they could court-martial her for desertion
and
theft. Fabulous, Idden, just dandy.

“Can Mamma go to Fort Jones?” I asked.

“She’ll have to get permission from the Warlord, but, of course, that’s just a formality He’ll hardly tell her no. But it’s a bad time for the General to be absent from the City The EI causing all that commotion, the Warlord’s Birthday. We need the General here. She’s a stable influence, and it would look bad to have her gone right now.”

And Idden long gone from Fort Jones, too,
I thought, so
an entirely wasted trip.

“Maybe the Warlord won’t let her go,” I said, hopefully.

“Lay off, Reverdy!” Mamma’s voice rose again. “I need your support here!”

Lieutenant Sabre and I leaned back against the door and heard Poppy say, “Be reasonable, Buck. Rushing off to Fort Jones isn’t going to solve anything. If Idden has deserted, she’s long gone.”

“I refuse to believe that Idden would ever desert,” Mamma said. “She is probably lying at the bottom of a ravine somewhere.”

“For three weeks, Buck?” Poppy said quietly. “Then there really is no point, is there? Hardy’s letter said they searched for her and found nothing—no horse, no dogs, no Idden. And taking the QM funds is a sure sign that she scarpered. She’s gone, Juliet. She’s gone.”

For a moment there was silence, and then Mamma said, “I can’t go through this again, Reverdy. I just can’t. I can’t lose another child. I have to find her.”

“And if you find her? What then? Are you going to court-martial her and shoot her?”

“Of course not.”

“How are you going to have any choice? Will you be so openly partisan?”

Another silence, and Lieutenant Sabre and I looked at each other. Mamma would never have her own daughter shot, would she? Would she? The look on Lieutenant Sabre’s face said he certainly thought she would.
Oh Idden, you snapperhead.
I really hoped she had covered her tracks well. I hoped, hoped that she and the other Horses of Instruction were far, far from the City now. Long gone.

We heard the footsteps just in time and retreated halfway down the Below Stairs, so it wouldn’t be obvious we’d been listening. Without giving a look our way, Mamma flung herself upstairs, her face as hard as stone, her dressing gown flapping.