The Shadows of God (18 page)

Despite what he wanted, he gently pushed her back.

THE SHADOWS OF GOD

“Come, Vasilisa. If what you say is true, I will help you. Of course I must. But if it is distraction—”

“It is not, I swear.”

“You said you had proof.”

“I have some of Swedenborg’s notes on their making. From them we can create a countermeasure. We must! Together, I am-certain we can.”

“Notes are not proof.”

“You look at them. You judge. I leave them with you.”

Where she produced them from—the folds of her skirt?—he wasn’t sure, but she lay several bound sheaves of paper into his hand. Then she was gone.

He opened the first up. Latin, at least, and not Russian. He would be able to get through it passing well.

He sat down and began to read, scratching every now and then with pen and paper to check an equation.

The sun changed its slant through the windows and worked toward the red end of the spectrum until it settled on a brutish sort of brick orange.

A cool breeze swept in from seaward, easing through the open windows to replace the ferocious heat of the day. Despite that, Franklin kept sweating, for by that time he believed.

He became so lost in the notes that it took Robert and Voltaire to rouse him from them and remind him that the dinner hour was fast approaching.

“Every part of your plan is in place — except you, you dunderhead, and the scientifical apparatus.”

“Yes, thanks, fellows. Could you carry these things — or find some servant to THE SHADOWS OF GOD

carry them—while I put on fresh clothing? The king, I fear, has already seen me in this.”

“Your court habits are coming back awful fast, despite y’r protestations that you have no use for ”em,“ Robert observed.

“It’s necessity, Robert. To win this French king over, I must play the game by his rules.”

“Really?” Voltaire asked. “I wonder about that. Sterne, I think, knows those rules better than you, and this d’Artaguiette surely does.”

“A lecture on rules from the man who talked himself into the Bastille?”

Franklin replied. But something about Voltaire’s comment rang true. “Well, perhaps I shall do some bending, then, and see how that works.”

His outfit was greeted at first with titters and stage-whispered comments. He smiled and nodded politely as if to the highest praise, kept his back straight and his step even, and presented himself to the king. As he bowed, he doffed his raccoon-skin hat and kept it off.

“Some new scientifical garb?” the king asked mildly, surveying him. Franklin wore a deerskin matchcoat borrowed from one of the Apalachee and beneath it a very plain waistcoat of linsey-woolsey with cloth-covered buttons. His breeches matched.

“No, Your Majesty—American garb. It is quite the rage in Charles Town.” That last was something of a lie —men of means dressed exactly as these French did, in habitual imitation of the lost European courts. But he did look rather like a deerskin trader or ranger, down to the hat.

“Really? How quaint. Perhaps I should have such an outfit made. We are, after all, Americans in a sense.”

“In the highest sense,” Franklin agreed. “Indeed, I am told that this habit was borrowed by our English traders from the French in the Natchez concessions.

In any event, I find it comfortable.”

THE SHADOWS OF GOD

“I find it rather crude,” d’Artaguiette said, a brittle smile on his thin face.

“I prefer natural, sir. Survival in this New World, you will admit, requires a certain vitality. All of us here at this table have it— evident by our survival. We have been tried by our environment and found adequate, much as the natives have. I feel this dress is a badge of honor, a mark of distinction, and an important step in admitting—
embracing
—that our nations are unlike any ever to exist in Europe or anywhere in the world. Despite our creeds, languages, and governments, Your Majesty, I offer that we are all Americans.” He strode to the table and lifted a glass of wine. “To his majesty, Philippe I—the king of France in America —an American king.”

“Here!” Voltaire seconded, standing to raise his own. All Franklin’s companions followed suit, as did a scattering of Frenchmen he strongly suspected were Junto members. He noticed Vasilisa, too, seated a few chairs from the king, repressing a smile.

When the king nodded in acceptance of the toast, all of his court joined — even d’Artaguiette.

Sterne —unshackled this time and dressed in finest silk—did not drink.

“You do not drink the king’s health, sir?” Don Pedro asked loudly.

“I will gladly drink the king’s health,” Sterne replied. “I did not hear a toast offered to his health, only some maudlin, common sentiment that the noble blood of France has somehow become polluted by the savagery of this continent and its peoples.” ,

“Peoples like my own, sir? You understand that I am a prince of Apalachee.”

“I understand that—
prince —
and if I have given offense where none was intended, I do apologize.”

“And will you say that none was intended?” Don Pedro asked. “Or must I assume you meant to insult me?”

“I do not know you well enough, don, to say. Why don’t you tell us whether I THE SHADOWS OF GOD

have insulted you or not?”

A faint grin appeared on Don Pedro’s face. “I do feel insulted, and, moreover, my people have been insulted. Your Majesty, I require satisfaction from this man, but I will not pursue it unless you give me leave.”

A murmur of excitement swept through the room.

The king frowned. “I had already planned a diversion for the court, with Mr.

Franklin’s help.”

“Begging Your Majesty’s pardon. I am fully satisfied to await Your Majesty’s pleasure. I am eager to see this demonstration and see no reason why I cannot send Mr. Sterne to our Lord for judgment
after
the meal and its entertainments.“

“Like you, Mr. Sterne is our guest. I cannot ask him to fight a duel.”

“If he must be compelled, the question of honor is already settled,” Don Pedro said, “and the court will know where to find it.”

“By God, enough of this, you babbling monkey!” Sterne snapped. “I will meet you at any time convenient to His Majesty.”

Philippe looked a bit swept away by things, but the sounds from his court were approving. It must have been a long time since they had blood sport. If they were so keen for a tennis match, this ought to
really
please them.

“Very well,” Philippe concluded. “After the demonstration, if you gentlemen must conduct your argument, you shall. Take the opportunity during the meal to appoint your seconds. Now, Mr. Franklin, if you would be so kind as to help me with these devices, we shall provide less bloody and more illuminating amusement.”

The experiments went well and drew polite—sometimes even enthusiastic—applause. Using a pair of graduated cylinders, the first demonstration proved that air had weight and pressure. Then, by means of a burning candle in one of the cylinders, they demonstrated that, though its pressure remained, some THE SHADOWS OF GOD

substance in the air necessary for combustion was used up quite quickly.

Finally, they engaged a device Franklin had invented, quite by accident, in Prague. It repelled the substance in the open atmosphere, extinguishing a nearby candle. Courtiers were then invited to approach and discover that the same chemical which fed combustion was also the sustaining fuel for human beings, drawing laughs as they stumbled away, light-headed.

“What we must conclude,” Philippe said, when all was done, “is that we have something like a slow fire burning in each of us. Note that your flesh is warm, and that fever, which increases the ferocity of that fire, can consume and waste us away. Indeed, it might be that such a device as you have just seen might be of use, somehow, in treating fever. Certainly it could be of use in extinguishing the blazes that take too much of our property when necessity—” He smiled. “—

American
necessity—demands we build our homes of wood.”

More applause, and then the meal. As soon as it was done, Sterne stood. “Your Majesty—”

“You pardon, Sire,” Don Pedro interrupted. “I notice that people are still discussing your experiments. I don’t wish to interrupt the discussion until it is quite done. It would please me if you would judge when our duel should be fought.”

“Very good,” Philippe replied, obviously pleased not to be so quickly upstaged.

He then leaned close to Franklin. “Is this some scheme of yours, Mr. Franklin, to rid yourself of an adversary?”“

“No, sir,” Franklin lied. “Don Pedro, as you must know, is rather impulsive.”

“Too impulsive, perhaps. I have seen Mr. Sterne at practice. Rarely have I ever seen such skill with the sword. For all of his bravado, I somehow doubt that our Apalaehee friend could have received such training in his own kingdom.”

“He is his own man, Sire.” He felt a certain emptiness, though. It hadn’t occurred to him that Sterne might be an accomplished swordsman. That would complicate his plan considerably, especially if Don Pedro’s own boasts were inflated. Still, the Apalaehee claimed to be a master of the Spanish rapier, and Robert—who used the same weapon —tended to agree.

THE SHADOWS OF GOD

After another hour or so, Philippe raised his hand for attention “An insult has been given and replied to with a challenge. The matter may be settled now.

Gentlemen, have you chosen your seconds?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Sterne said, indicating one of his men. Don Pedro, on the other hand, chose Robert. The Apalaehee removed his coat, unsheathed his weapon, and made a few passes with it.

Sterne watched him for a moment, then whispered to his second.

“Your Majesty,” Sterne’s second said, “my master is in need of a rapier, of the older sort. Is one to be found?”

“Indeed,” the king replied. He signed, and a few moments later a servant returned with several. Sterne tried them, one by one, finally settling on one somewhat longer and heavier than the Apalachee’s weapon.

A murmur went up at the unusual choice. Though some still wore such old-style rapiers, few still fought with them, preferring the lighter, nimbler smallsword, for good reason: while a man with a rapier made one thrust, the bearer of a smallsword could parry and riposte twice, despite the difference in length. Don Pedro’s Spanish weapon was almost as light as a smallsword, and so could be fenced with in the usual manner. The weapon Sterne had chosen must weigh three pounds.

“Will you use a
main gauche
, sir?” Don Pedro asked.

“I suppose,” Sterne replied.

It was then that Franklin remembered something about warlocks. They were very, very strong.

“Uh-oh,” Franklin heard Robert mumble.

Franklin’s belly clenched again, and he quickly made his way to Don Pedro’s side just as Robert was handing him the dagger he would use in his left hand.

“He is not a normal man, Don Pedro,” Franklin whispered. “He can wield that THE SHADOWS OF GOD

rapier like a smallsword.”

“An interesting thing to learn, now,” Don Pedro said solemnly. Then he laughed, and slapped Franklin on the back.

“I regret our bargain, Don Pedro. Call this off.”

“Nonsense. It isn’t the sword that wins or loses, or even the strength the arm—it is the man and the God he worships. That man is an agent of Lucifer. God will give me the victory. If he does not, I am not worthy to live anyway.” He held out his hand for Franklin to shake, then took his place in the cleared space on the floor.

ON THE SHOULDERS OF GIANTS

If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.

— Isaac Newton

1.

Abomination

THE SHADOWS OF GOD

Minko Chito stared off at the West, straining to see what no mere mortal eyes could discern.

“It is out there, this army?”

“It is,” Red Shoes assured him.

Minko Chito nodded absently. “I have killed many men,” he said. “I once went amongst the Chickasaw, into Long Town itself, and came out with two scalps. I ran for half a month to fight the Big Hill people, and half a month back, chased by them the whole way, and I laughed. But this—this is different. These enemies come from the West, from the Nightland, where the accursed live.”

“Some say
we
came from there,” Red Shoes reminded him. “Do not fear them.

They have accursed beings, yes. But you have me, and I have never failed you.”

“I failed
you
,” Minko Chito remarked contritely.

“No. The Bone Men were right. You had to know. You can’t be trusting when you deal with the other world. What seems helpful can easily become terrible.”

He clapped the chief on the back. “Tell your warriors to strike with their arrows and muskets, with their ball-headed war clubs and their steel-toothed axes. Leave the accursed beings for me to fight.”

“Else we perish, as I saw in my visions,” Minko Chito muttered. “Our bones gnawed by dogs, never picked smooth and bundled into the House of Warriors. Yes, I know we must fight. I know the vision was true. But I am not too proud to say I fear the spirits, as I fear no man. No one can fault me for it.”

“No one does,” Red Shoes told him. “But as you fear no man, I fear no spirit. I have defeated the Long Black Being. I have defeated the Snake Crawfish, the Antler Serpent. I will defeat this child of the witches.”

Minko Chito nodded. “When?”

“Soon they will try to cross the river. We must stop them.”

“How, if they have ships that fly? What will the river mean to them?”

THE SHADOWS OF GOD

“They have too many men and horses, too few ships. I think they will try to build a bridge. If they use the flying ships, I shall deal with them.”

“I’m going to shoot a
lot
of them,” a young voice said. It was Chula.

“Hello, younger cousin,” Red Shoes said.

“Hello, elder cousin,” the boy replied. “In a few days, you will never call me Chula again. I will have a war name.”

“Or we may call you nothing at all,” Red Shoes answered. “You might be dead, and we do not speak the names of the dead.”