Revolutionary Magic (with Bonus Content) (10 page)

"No," said Chloris. "You are merely insects about to be trampled by a battle between giants."

"You mock us," said Ben.

"No, I mock you and you alone. Princess Dashkova, she is another matter entirely," said Chloris, all trace of softness missing.

In my surprise, I almost looked up.

"Me?"

The word slipped out unbidden. Even Ben seemed surprised, glancing at me sideways while keeping his head down.

"You know her?" asked Ben, skeptically.

"Not all mountains move from Otherland," said Chloris. "Even now I feel a pull from her. Before you came, I did not know her name, but once you stepped inside, the answer carved itself into my mind."

At this point, I should have kept my mouth shut. Not doing so was a fault of mine that had made Catherine furious often enough.

"You lie," I said, feeling a tightness in my chest.

"I do not lie, Princess," said Chloris forcefully. "Deceive, obfuscate, shade the truth? At times. But I do not lie."

Ben put his hand on my forearm, but I spoke anyway. "Then you are trying to injure me."

"No."

The word was so emphatic, final, like the blow of a hammer, I knew it for truth.

"Yet injury will come," said Chloris. "I sense great pain in your future, confusion, betrayal, a sense of aloneness so vast to make the moon pity you."

"Is this prophecy?" asked Ben.

"No." Then Chloris paused. "I don't know. These are the answers I have found without knowing the questions. Or maybe these events are so meaningful they are questions in themselves and I cannot help but hear them," she said.

We stood in silence. Water dripped from somewhere in the room. My inward breath was thick and cloying. I desired the fresh clear air of the city streets, wanted to claw away the collar of my dress to release my breath.

Suddenly, Ben's fingers tensed around my arm.

"Why did you give these answers freely, without a price paid?" he asked Chloris.

The woman's laughter was a cold slap across the face. "You'll soon find out. But you didn't come here for those answers. You came for something else. Pay me, Benjamin."

A light splash indicated she'd pulled her hand from the water and held it out.

While keeping his head down, Ben placed the object on her palm. I caught a glimpse of it: an ivory comb.

"A fair gift," said Chloris. "Ask your question, Benjamin."

Ben cleared his throat. "Who does the memory thief desire to attack next?"

"So close and yet so far," mocked Chloris. "The answer you seek is the Binghams. I trust you know them."

"Yes," said Ben. "William Bingham is a member of the Bank of North America. He is a rising star. He and his wife, Anne, are devout Federalists."

"You should hurry," said Chloris. "Chess pieces on a board. They're all moving. Don't want to be the one left without a spot."

Ben turned, tugging on my arm to leave.

"And Princess," said Chloris in a lilting tone, "I shall be seeing you again."

"Doubtful," I said.

Chloris replied with quiet chuckling.

Afterwards, we stood outside the closed door of Chloris' abode in silence, Ben's worried brow a thunderhead of thoughts.

"We must get to the Bingham's house at once," he said.

Chapter Nine

The steam carriage had been left idling, attended by one of the Magdelen House's grease boys. We slid onto the cushion, each from our side, the weight of the visit heavy upon us.

"You shouldn't have spoken to her," he said.

"It doesn't sound like it would have mattered," I replied.

He considered the thought before shoving the lever into gear. The carriage lurched forward. The street was wide enough to turn around, unlike the narrow avenues in most locations of the city. Ben stopped the carriage when he saw a gathering of sailors at the other end lifting their mugs high and singing.

"Let's take the long way then," he said. "We'll pick up Smith and a few items at the estate and then go straight to the Bingham's house."

While Ben piloted the vehicle, I mulled Chloris' words.

We came upon a farmer with a broken-down wagon in the middle of the narrow street, his horses tied to a post while he worked on it.

Ben turned the steam carriage to the right, heading down an alleyway between the tall rows. Far ahead, between the buildings, a ship on the river passed, its white sheets ruffling in the wind.

The vehicle rumbled across the cobblestones. I glanced up and out the window, gazing at the scattered cloud layer above the city that reflected the pinks and oranges of the evening sky, when a barrel fell over the side of the nearest three story building.

Grabbing Ben's arm, I screamed, "Stop!"

He barely hit the brakes before the barrel hit the cobblestones, exploding fire over the vehicle. A wall of flame blocked the way ahead.

Ben opened the door to check the streets, when a second barrel hit thirty feet behind us, shards of wood and fire bouncing between the brick buildings.

The flames ahead subsided, revealing a pile of jagged stones smoldering with a greasy smoke that curtained the space between the two buildings.

Two men appeared from a doorway ahead, the newest repeating rifles in their hands. I recognized the black bushy mustaches and beady eyes of men from the regions around the Black Sea. These were the Emperor Paul's assassins. The spymaster probably lurked nearby.

The assassins placed the rifles against their shoulders, aiming in our direction. As I slumped beneath the dashboard, Ben angrily jabbed a button, seemingly at random.

The vehicle shook when a blast flew from the upper portion of the carriage, a net of fine wire sailing through the air and wrapping around the men, collapsing them into a pile.

Leaning his head back out the door, Ben jammed the gear lever into reverse. We surged in that direction, bouncing over stones that might have stopped a lesser vehicle.

The assassins climbed out of the net when we were a couple hundred feet down the alleyway, traveling backwards at a hurried pace.

Before Ben could turn down a cross street, their rifles barked, putting holes in the engine. Steam jetted out of the brass pressure chamber. We were able to make it another hundred feet before the vehicle slowed to a stop.

Grabbing my pistol and rapier, I slid into the street. Ben had a fine pistol of his own, along with the knapsack with the gauntlet. We ran together, glancing frequently behind us. Right as we turned, the assassins appeared at the cross street. Bits of brick exploded around our heads as we ducked and ran.

I didn't bother firing my weapon. With only one shot I was unlikely to hit anything.

We ran recklessly. With weapons in each hand, I couldn't pull my dress up for running, which slowed us considerably. Ben kept pace, even though I knew he could outrun me.

When we turned into a blind alleyway, I saw the spymaster at the other end with a rifle. His shot nearly tore my head off.

Trapped between the assassins and the spymaster, we took a staircase to a landing, hoping we might find connecting roofs to make our escape. Luck wasn't with us—we found a lone building top surrounded by unassailable gaps.

"At least we have a defensible position," said Ben, leaning carefully to see down the narrow wooden staircase.

I spun in a circle. Around us, the surrounding rooftops had a clear line of sight to us. A heavy easterly wind tugged on my dress and blew hair around my face. The smell of evening woodstoves burning was thick in the air.

"We have to get off this roof. They'll cut us down like wheat," I said.

Ben looked around, understanding my meaning. It wouldn't take them long to figure out they didn't need to come up the narrow stairs, and there was nothing to hide behind on the flat, tarry roof.

Ben beat his fist on his thigh. "Who are these hell-fired men?"

He must have caught the look of recognition on my face, because his gaze narrowed. I sensed the question he was going to ask, a question I had to answer truthfully. Seizing the moment, I poked the knapsack with my rapier.

"Can that help us get out of here? Maybe you can make that wall of air that kept me from killing the memory thief?" I asked desperately.

"I can't make it do anything," he said.

"We've no other choice unless you wish to charge down these stairs. We're trapped on this roof without a way off. What choice do we have?"

Ben nodded and pulled the gauntlet out of the knapsack. It fit easily over his hand. I was surprised when he flexed his fingers and the metal moved gracefully, as I could see no signs of hinges or overlapping plates like a piece of armor.

With arm outstretched and fingers splayed, Ben turned in a slow circle. The smooth dark stone on the back of the gauntlet glowed with a purplish light, crackles of energy deep within its violet depths.

He shook his head with a disgusted sigh. "I only know how to do one thing with it."

At the bottom of the stairs, one head kept peeking around the corner. I thought about taking a shot—I would have time to reload—but decided it would be wasteful.

Then I glanced to the roofs around us. They were yet unmanned, but I knew our time was coming to a close.

"How do you do that one thing? Is there a lever or button inside?" I asked, my gaze flitting in all directions.

"Not by button but intention. If I concentrate on the gauntlet, it warms with energy. The closer I am to other magics, the warmer it gets," he said, squinting into the wind.

"But the time you transported yourself to Otherland. What were you thinking then?" I asked.

His grey eyes hardened, steeling themselves from some desperate thought. "I've tried that before. It didn't work."

"Then try again. What choice do we have?"

Ben spun in another circle, producing nothing but the visible energy of the stone for his effort. At that moment, a figure appeared on a roof, three buildings over. The rifle slung over his shoulder confirmed he was one of our pursuers.

"Hurry, Ben," I said.

"This damned thing does nothing but stonewall me," he said, shaking his gauntleted fist. "We should make a try for the stairs. It's our only way out."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the assassin placing his rifle against his shoulder.

"You said it worked by intention," I said. "That you thought on the gauntlet. Think instead on the estate, or somewhere else."

The air exploded over my head. The shot had passed between us. "Hurry, he won't miss again now that he knows the wind."

Ben held his hand out, fingers splayed in the direction of the estate. He seemed to be pouring his concentration into the gauntlet. My back tingled with the anticipation of being hit by a lead shot from the assassin's rifle.

Suddenly, a shimmering oval appeared in the air, energy bleeding off the sides of it like faint purple tendrils. I grabbed Ben's arm and we leapt through the portal as a shot rang behind us.

We tumbled onto the cobblestones outside his estate, right in the middle of the avenue. A farmer's wagon retreated from our location. We'd missed being run over by only a few seconds. I was about to breathe a sigh of relief when Ben collapsed onto the street, a crimson bloom forming on his shirt.

Chapter Ten

Ben had been shot. We hadn't made it through the portal in time. The assassin's bullet chased us through, or it hit Ben before we escaped.

I reached Ben the same time Adam Smith came running out of the house.

"I saw strange lights in the street," said Smith. "How did you get here and what happened to Ben?"

Blood flowed from a wound on his side. I had to tear the crimson shirt to find the spot the bullet had hit.

"We were chased by men with rifles," I said, leaving out the word assassin in case he somehow linked those men to me. "Ben got hit right as he made the portal work."

"The portal? Where were you moments before?" asked Smith.

I was too busy investigating Ben's wound to answer. Ben seemed to be coming out of a fog.

"Was I shot?" he asked.

I found the entry point on the underside of his arm, right beneath the shoulder. The lead had ripped through his flesh, leaving a gash. The shot had nearly passed beneath his armpit, right as we leapt. I wasn't sure if we'd been lucky or unlucky.

"Yes," I said, holding my hand to the wound. "But it's not bad. Let's get you inside to wrap this up."

We helped Ben to his feet and took him inside. I explained what happened to Adam Smith on the way, including what had transpired at the Magdelen House.

After cleaning the wound, I wrapped Ben's arm. He had his shirt off, which left me uncomfortable. By the twinkle in his eye, I knew the wound he suffered wasn't serious, or at least he was good at hiding his pain.

"Katerina and I should go to the Bingham's place at once while you recover," said Adam Smith. "We can't leave them unprotected. Our enemies move against us with great alacrity."