Master of Myth (The Antigone's Wrath Series Book 1) (14 page)

He glanced up to where she stood, leafing through the volume. She made no sign of speaking, so he continued. “Several days ago, I received a package from them which included this book and a box of parts. As I normally do, I inventoried everything, but after looking through those pages, I discovered a drawing of a piece that was not included in the delivery. Of course this raised my curiosity, but as I have no way of translating the text, I neither know what this piece or the machine as a whole can do.”

Iris found the page with the drawing of the ring and stopped, looking to Silas. “And you were unable to turn down this commission?”

He shot her a helpless look. “If you’re familiar with the Brotherhood, you know that they don’t accept rejection. At all.”

“And that is your motivation for accepting the job?”

He crossed his arms. “I didn’t say I accepted the job, I said I did not tell them no. Depending on what this contraption does, I may burn the damned thing and melt the parts down for scrap. I’ll work out the trouble with
them
after the fact.”

She nodded and returned her focus to the page with the sketch of the ring.

“I don’t suppose you’ve any idea what it says, do you?” He thought he should at least ask.

“No,” she said. “This is indeed a very obscure dialect. I know many languages, but none of these characters are familiar to me.”

He leaned back on his hands, a great weight lifting from his shoulders at sharing his secret. “Tell me something then, now that you know my purpose in going to Singapore.”

“Hm?”

“Why is it that the captain is willing to risk the journey with these blockades in place? I understand from her reputation that she’s in regular habit of denying air and sea authorities, but what has she to gain? Why go to all the trouble?”

Iris looked up and stared off into space, as if considering his question. “She goes for the same reason you do. She needs information, but given what I see here, Singapore will not be your final destination.”

He indicated the sketch. “And this item?”

She nodded. “She is as much ignorant of its power and origins as you are. Someone she knew died passing it to her. She felt she owed them at least the courtesy of finding out what it is. But make no mistake, the captain doesn’t harbor any great love for things of a supernatural nature.”

“I see.”

Iris clapped the book shut and handed it back to Silas. “I think I need to speak with her about this discovery. It will hurt neither of you to know both sides of this story. Do I have your permission?”

Silas rubbed his face wearily. “Only if you can keep Monsieur DuSalle from dispatching me at first sight.”

Iris smiled reassuringly. “I’ll be sure to use the utmost discretion in this matter, Mr. Jensen.”

“Then I suppose you should do as your conscience directs, Ms. Singh.” He sighed. “I leave the matter in your capable hands.”

With a graceful bow, she took her leave. He might feel a bit lighter for having shared his secret with Iris, but he couldn’t untie the apprehensive knot that wound itself in his gut. All he could do was wait for the decision now.

“If this is about your new assignment—” Rachel started as Iris entered the captain’s quarters.

“It is not.” Iris closed the door and locked it.

This behavior was odd for Iris. Of course, the woman always seemed strange to Rachel anyway, but Iris was not given to locking doors. “What’s the matter?”

“I’ve something to discuss with you, but I need you to be rational and listen to the whole story before you react.”

“What?” Rachel screwed up her face in confusion. “What are you talking about? When do I ever—”

“Just say you will.”

She sighed. “Fine. I will. Now out with it.”

“Silas is not part of the Brotherhood.”

“Thought we’d already established that, but I’m certain there’s a reason you’re telling me this.”

“Silas is in possession of a book that belongs to them.”

Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“They commissioned him to build something, but he doesn’t know what, nor is he particularly inclined to complete the job.”

“So he’s working for them. No wonder Danton doesn’t like him. The man must be able to smell it on people.”

“I didn’t say he was working for them. I said they commissioned him. He wishes to have nothing to do with it, but cannot tell them no out of fear for his life and that of his apprentice.”

“I fail to see how this concerns me, aside from that I now want him off my ship even more than before.” Rachel drummed her fingers impatiently on the arm of her chair.

“Your paths are more intertwined than you know, Captain.” Iris leveled her gaze at Rachel. “The book he carries has a drawing of the item you received in Grimsby.”

That explained Silas’s stare on deck. “What does he know about it?”

Iris shrugged. “About as much as I do now. I was unable to read the text surrounding the picture. All either of us can determine is that it’s part of the machine the Brotherhood wants him to build.”

“You saw the book for yourself then?”

“I did. I don’t blame him for keeping it hidden. The Brotherhood’s symbol is right on the cover. Both he and I share the fear that whatever it is they want him to build, it’s probably not harmless or in the interest of anyone but the Brotherhood to see it built.”

“So why not just destroy the book?”

Iris shook her head. “I doubt it’s the only copy, but it may be the original. If Silas were to do something like that, he’d be unable to return home. This ship can leave at a moment’s notice. He does not have that option.”

“What do you suggest we do now?”

“We’ll have to take him with us to Tibet. The knowledge he seeks cannot be found in Singapore. If we know what the book says, we may discover the function of your… trinket,” she smiled at the word.

Rachel sighed again and sunk down further in her chair. “I suppose that means we’ll be stuck with him for a while longer then, hm?”

“It would appear that way, yes.”

“Best fetch him and his mysterious book. What do you think? Will Danton be able to control himself if he hears the word Brotherhood? I’ll not have him killing my passengers, especially if we need this one.”

“Let us first speak with Mr. Jensen. We can bring in Danton later. You wish me to do this tonight?”

Rachel considered, then noted the late hour. “No, I think tomorrow would be better, but before the noon meal. That will give you time to assign someone to take over nanny duties for you in the interim.”

Iris sat bolt upright in her chair. “You still wish me to tend to that child?”

Rachel stared, impassive. “Of course. I wasn’t joking when I said you’re the best person aboard to teach the lad.”

Iris gave an exhausted sigh. “Very well then. I bid you a good evening, my captain.”

“Goodnight, Iris.” She smiled as the first mate exited.

With a yawn and a stretch, Rachel decided it was time for her to get some rest as well. She stood and crossed to the door to her private chamber. Sleep welcomed her as soon as she lay upon her pillow.

Everywhere she ran, the smell of burning oil and singed flesh mingled together, bludgeoning her senses. There was no escape from the blisteringly hot air that filled this place. Not even the torches could pierce the intense darkness beyond the pillars of stone. She did not want to venture there. She couldn’t see them, but she knew the faces were there. They were watching. They were waiting with knives and swords, ready to attack any who tried to flee.

In the center of it all, amidst the writhing bodies and limp carcasses, sat the Machine, pulsing with artificial life. It was sentient now. It could kill. Maybe if she could reach it, get close enough, she could grab the ring. If she could get it, she might have a chance… they
all
might have a chance.

She sank to the floor and crawled towards it. With each forward motion the heat intensified, but she didn’t dare stop. Even as the tips of her fingers blackened and burned, she pressed on. Her eyelids cracked as the temperature climbed. She tried to blink, but the pain was too intense. Closer now. Her body continued to suffer the torture of the Machine. She was nearly there. Her charred hand reached out to the evil thing, bones showing white through the burnt tissue…

Iris screamed as she sat up in bed. She shook uncontrollably as the remnants of the dream persisted. The smell of it coated her nostrils. How could such a thing be? What sort of evil was this Machine that it could invade her nightmares even before it was built?

She had only experienced such clarity a handful of times in her life, but recognized it for what it was. There was prophecy in a vision like this, and she could not ignore it. But the question remained; what could she do about it? In the past, the path she should take was clear. She knew precisely what to do to prevent or ensure certain events. This was very different. It would either come to pass regardless of what she did, or it was a warning that if she did not act, the things she saw would become inevitable.

It was too early to know what she should do. However, she was certain there would be no more sleeping that night. Even awake, burning corpses appeared in her peripheral vision. If she could somehow get back to sleep, the sights she would endure would be more of that and worse. It was best for her to turn her mind to other things.

Iris rose from her bed and slipped her cloak over her nightgown, making sure to pull up the hood. It would be cool out on the deck, even this far south.

The breeze touched her flushed face and she relaxed a little. It was a clear night with millions of stars on display. Carefully, she climbed the main mast to the crow’s nest at the top, high above the dim lanterns of the deck. She discovered a few years back that if she positioned herself just so, she could get a completely unobstructed view of the sky. There would be no watch posted there tonight. When they rounded the corner of Liberia it would be necessary, but Rachel didn’t like putting a man aloft unless she had to. Iris didn’t argue. It meant she would be free to come here for a while longer and be left in peace when she needed it. Tonight, she certainly needed it.

She curled herself around the top of the mast as she lay down on the floor. It was not an angle one normally associated with comfort or relaxation, but Iris didn’t mind it. She lay there quietly, letting her concerns and dark thoughts drift away into the heavens as she traced the patterns of familiar constellations. When she came to specific ones, she would recall the story of their origin. Cassiopeia, Aquila, Cygnus… all of these and more. When Orion dipped behind the horizon, Scorpio in pursuit, she rose from her meditation amongst the stars and descended the ladder. A new day was beginning.

He knelt on all fours, sweat beading at his brow and dripping down his face. “The dagger has been found, Highest One, but it is no longer in her possession.”

“Idiot!” The shrouded figure atop the dais spat at him. “How was she able to remain hidden for so long?”

Pain seared in his gut, but he fought back the scream of anguish. “I don’t know. She had some sort of protection, possibly an…” he gasped for air, “an amulet, or talisman of some kind.”

“And what of her now? Have you any idea where she might be?”

“The dagger was found in La Rochelle, France, Highest One.” The torment subsided and he tried to breathe through the lingering effects. “We have reports that the ship was docked there, but departed this evening.” He braced himself for what was sure to come after he delivered his next bit of news. “There’s… something else.”

“Continue…” A shadow of malice laced the voice.

“Our Mr. Jensen seems to have found his way aboard the ship in question. Because of this, we were able to determine that both he and the
Antigone’s Wrath
are bound for Singapore.” His mustache twitched furiously as he awaited another wave of agony, but none came.

“Interesting…” The threatening quality was gone, replaced by a tone of internal reflection. “Yes, interesting indeed. You may go now, Brother. Follow their movements and report every detail. Do you understand?”

Mr. Mustache shakily got to his feet and bowed. “Yes, Highest One. I shall see it done.” He couldn’t get out of the room any more quickly if he had run.

The old man was waiting for him in the altar room. “You don’t look well, Brother. I take it the dagger’s recovery was not well received?”

“Not precisely, no.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and mopped his face. “Though the news of Mr. Jensen seemed to appease him. The Highest One must see some good fortune in this turn of events that I cannot.”

“It’s easier to track two together than separately,” the old man mused. “Perhaps this is what he concluded.”

He shrugged. “I doubt that, though it is a valid point. It’s rarely that simple with our esteemed leader. He sees things others do not.”

The elder nodded but said no more. Mr. Mustache removed his jacket and approached the altar, its velvet-draped surface already aglow with candlelight.

Silas again awoke to the sound of pounding. This time, Eddie was the one to pop out of bed, demonstrating his exuberance for beginning his first day under Ms. Singh’s tutelage. Silas rolled over in his cot and covered his head with his pillow, trying to ignore the fact that it was morning. The conversation at the door was muffled and brief, but he got the idea nonetheless. He was to dress and proceed immediately to the captain’s quarters, where Ms. Singh would meet him. She gave Eddie notice that their time would not start until she had dealt with the business of the morning, and that he should get breakfast and busy himself until she came to fetch him. Her last words were softer, but he distinctly heard “have him bring the book” at the end. Eddie chirped a happy “yes ma’am,” and closed the door.

“Mr. Jensen.” The boy shook his shoulder gently. “I need to tell you that—”

Silas cut him off. “Yes, Eddie, I know. Perhaps you’d like to wake the dead next?”

He rolled himself out of bed and tossed his pillow down on mattress. He hoped that Captain Sterling wasn’t as much a morning person as his apprentice, but her patterns of behavior thus far told him otherwise. To leave his bed even before sunrise indicated that she relished the early hours. He wondered if she actually slept at all.