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Zeke and Famara awoke to the chilly surroundings of the East End church. Mrs. Morgan, George's mother, fixed a meal of porridge and fish to get them on their way followed by surprisingly good coffee. Reverend Turnipseed joined them when they were almost done. He took a bowl from Mrs. Morgan and began to eat.
"We have you listed as laborers," he said. You'll load a French freighter in London harbor then board with the last load," he said.
"One more thing; the Prussians are still in France. You'll have to be very careful."
Famara nodded, but Zeke looked confused.
"Still in France?"
"There was a war and France lost," Turnipseed said. "The whys and hows are not important. This entire continent suffers from the worst dysfunctional families ever. The result was that the Prussians won and demanded reparations from France. Their troops will remain until the payments are complete. If Dolph is on the continent he may have put the word out on you two, at least in Paris. We'll have to bypass our contact there and put you in contact with someone less conspicuous."
"And who would that be?' Famara asked.
Turnipseed grinned. "You'll find out when you get there."
Famara reached into his shirt and extracted his compass watch. The needle sat motionless, causing him to frown.
"The Prussian probably has a good head start on us."
Turnipseed waved his concerns away. "You'll catch up to him. Don't worry. Now if you gentlemen are done, you have a boat to catch."
George took them by wagon to London harbor. The weak winter sun barely shared its light through the stubborn grey clouds. They followed George to the freighter then began their cover job, trying their best to look as if they knew what they were doing. Though Zeke struggled to look authentic, Famara fell in with the others as if born to the task. By the time they finished the last load and boarded with the crew the talented Malian had made a few friends.
They settled into a cramped cabin near the engine room then changed out of their clothes.
"You ain't no stranger to hard work," Zeke commented.
"My responsibility requires many skills," Famara replied. "It is not a glamorous life."
"So what did you do before you became a horro?" Zeke asked.
Famara looked at him puzzled. "I’ve always been a horro."
"What I meant was what did you do when you were younger?"
"I trained to be a horro," Famara replied.
Zeke shrugged. "So you don't know anything but being a horro."
Famara looked bewildered. "Of course."
"Have you always been a bounty hunter?' Famara asked.
"Nope," Zeke replied. "I tried farming for a while. Just don't have the touch. I served in the Freedonian army during the Reunion War then did a stint in New Haiti as a mercenary. I'm better with a gun than a plow. I got the knack of finding folks, too. But I gave it up once my daddy passed away. Momma needed help on the farm so I came home."
They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Zeke reached for his guns but Famara waved him away.
"We are among friends," he said.
Famara opened the door, revealing a dark brown man with a warm smile and heavy coat. He extended his hand.
"Gentlemen, I'm Percy Dawkins. If you'll follow me to the deck we'll get you fellows to France."
Zeke and Famara looked at each other in confusion.
"I thought we were on our way to France," Famara said.
"We are, but this ship will be searched as soon as we dock," Percy replied. "You'll be long gone by then."
Percy walked away. Famara and Zeke followed him to the deck with their belongings. When they emerged onto the deck a wide smile broke on Zeke's face. Famara looked with wonder.
"I'll be damned!" Zeke said.
"Fascinating!" Famara said.
A large flying craft rested on deck, swarmed by a team of men.
"That's one big Dragonfly," Zeke said.
"I think the proper terminology is cyclo-gyro," Famara said.
Percy smiled proudly. "You're both right. This is the latest evolution, Zeke. We call it a Grasshopper. It's designed to carry cargo and a few passengers. It's your ride to France."
Zeke trotted over to the boxes being loaded onto the Grasshopper. Famara circled the craft, his hands clasped behind his back, Percy at his side.
"I'm familiar with the function of the cyclo-gyro," he said. "But to my knowledge no one had been able to build an actual flying craft."
"We've had gyros for almost ten years now," Percy said. "Dr. Carver and Thaddeus Banneker figured out how to make it work. Don't ask me how. I just fly them."
One of the prep team came up to them. "She's ready, sir."
Percy smiled at Famara. "Let's get airborne!"
When they reached the Grasshopper Zeke was already seated, leather helmet and goggles on.
"What took y'all so long?" he said.
Percy looked at him suspiciously. "How'd you know how to put those things on? Flying is restricted to authorized personnel."
"I had a flyer friend who owed me a favor," Zeke said. "A bounty got too far ahead for me to ride him down so my friend gave me a lift."
Percy sucked his teeth then turned his attention to Famara. He helped the Malian get situated then climbed into the flyer's seat.
"Here we go!" Percy shouted.
The side propellers spun faster and faster. The Grasshopper lifted vertically, rising higher and higher over the freighter.
Zeke turned backwards to face Famara.
"You're going to love this!" he shouted over the thumping propellers.
Famara looked worried. "If you say so."
The Grasshopper tilted forward and they streaked ahead, disappearing into the mist and clouds.
The Grasshopper cruised across the English Channel to France. Zeke reveled in the journey, peering over the side to see the snow covered landscape streak by. Famara was distracted, his eyes fixed on his compass watch. Dolph had taken the book beyond the range of his device, which vexed him beyond what he revealed. For four years he'd searched for the tome and to have the final book in his grasped then lost again almost caused him to lose his composure. But anger wouldn't help him recover the book. He would trust the Freedonians for the time being. If this next contact did not produce positive results he would go on his own as before. He had little time to waste.
The Grasshopper flew north of Paris, sticking to the countryside and avoiding any airships spotted in the distance. Soon they flew above rolling mountains and deep verdant valleys, speckled by snow covered fields. The Grasshopper descended over one of the fields and began circling. Zeke saw a large castle perched on a steep hill overlooking the field. The gate opened and a group of riders emerged, riding swiftly down a winding road which terminated at the field. The Grasshopper stopped circling then landed vertically on the field. The riders waited until the propellers stilled before approaching the craft. They were led by a brown skinned woman draped in a luxurious sable coat, a top hat riding on her head. Her beautiful face was twisted with annoyance.
The trio disembarked, the crisp air causing them to pull their coats tighter. The woman rode up to Percy, her face still cross.
"Mademoiselle Bijoux!" Percy exclaimed. "I have a delivery for you."
"Why are you here?" Mademoiselle Bijoux replied. “I wasn’t notified.”
"Paris was out of the question," he replied. "These two are being hunted by the Prussians."
"Then they are in more danger here."
She jumped from her horse then strode to Zeke, her hand extended.
"Annette Bijoux," she said.
Zeke took her hand and kissed it. "Zeke Culpepper at your service.”
His gesture forced a smile to Annette's face. She went to Famara and introduced herself.
Famara did not take her hand. Instead he bowed slightly.
"Famara Keita," he said.
Annette bowed in returned then turned her attention back to Percy.
"Why are you here?"
"These men are seeking something and someone. We've been instructed to help them."
Famara looked at his compass watch and smiled. "It's close. We are on the right track."
Annette walked up to Famara and gazed at the device.
"Interesting, however I wish you would have contacted me before you came. The situation here is not favorable."
"What are you talking about?" Percy asked.
"The Germans have decided to make Lorraine a part of their kingdom."
"How close are we to Lorraine?" Zeke asked.
"You're in it," Annette replied. "Normally I would offer you my hospitality but I'm more than certain a company of Prussians is making its way here as we speak. Your arrival was not necessarily discreet."
Annette went back to her horse and mounted. "We brought extra horses and coats."
"I'm not staying," Percy said. He looked at his two former passengers.
"You're in her hands now. Good luck."
Annette's men unloaded the Grasshopper then secured the supplies onto pack horses. Percy climbed back into the cyclo-gyro; in moments he was airborne and away.
Zeke and Famara mounted up.
"I have a villa in the mountains north of here," Annette said. "My men will take you there. I'm going back to my home and wait for the Prussians."
"Maybe we should go with you," Famara said. "If we have brought trouble to you we should help you deal with it."
"I can take care of myself," Annette replied. "Stay with my men and do as they say. I'll be along around nightfall."
Zeke, Famara, and the others rode across the field as Annette rode back to the castle.
Three hours later they reached the villa, a spacious stone house hidden on a hillside overlooking a stream. Annette's men said nothing as they unpacked the duo's belongings then headed back to the castle. Famara and Zeke took inventory; there was ammunition, provisions and papers for identification. Zeke sat down and began tinkering with his shotgun while Famara studied the maps included with their gear.
"We’re close to the book," Famara said.
"Is that so?" Zeke asked without looking up.
"Yes. We should leave now. The compass watch will lead us to it."
"I think we should wait until Miss Bijoux comes," Zeke said. "It wouldn't be polite to leave when she told us she was coming to visit."
Famara frowned. "It's not necessary."
Zeke looked up. "I know it's not. It's good manners."
Famara stared at Zeke for a moment then shrugged. A couple of hours passed, both men concentrating on their own matters. As the sun descended behind the hills the sound of hooves interrupted their silence. The door burst open and Annette's men entered. Two of the men were wounded, supported by two others. One man was dragged in by his cohort. Annette followed with a Chassepot rifle in her gloved hands.
"The Prussians really want you," she said.
Zeke strapped on two ammo belts of shotgun shells. Famara grabbed a needle gun from the provisions and his throwing knives.
"How far are they behind you?" Famara asked.
"Not far," Annette answered.
"So I guess you need our services," Zeke said.
Annette grinned. "I guess I do."
"Is there a back way out?" Famara asked.
"Yes," Annette replied.
She led them to the rear door.
"You and your men stay inside. Come on, Zeke"
Zeke took his shotgun out of his leg holster then slung a rifle across his back. Together they exited the rear door.
"You thinking about setting up a crossfire?" Zeke asked.
Famara nodded. "The two of us should be able to put up enough firepower to drive them off."
Zeke loaded the shotgun. "That might not be enough."
"Let's hope it is."
They split up, Zeke heading right, Famara left. They slipped into the dense forest then worked their way along the road until they were about ten yards distant Famara settled in behind a thick tree, familiarizing himself with his rifle. Zeke kissed his cross then tucked it into his shirt. He worked his way close to the road, his shotgun at the ready. Ten minutes later the sound of horses could be heard. The Prussian riders came into view draped in elaborate uniforms and plumed hats, their sabers drawn. Famara and Zeke waited until they were all in view before firing. Five Prussians went down with the first volley; three more were felled a volley from the villa. The others quickly dismounted and ran for the cover of the woods. The first man to the right was blown back onto the road by Zeke's shotgun. Those to the left were struck by Famara's throwing knives. The shadows held no respite for the Prussians; they fled to the mounts under fire. Three managed to mount and ride away.
Famara walked into the road. Zeke ran to the nearest horse, climbed on then rode away.
"Zeke! No!" Famara shouted.
Zeke chased the Prussians. The horse he chose was swift, catching up to its cohorts in minutes. Zeke raised his shotgun and fired, blowing the closest Prussian off his mount. He fired again, killing the second rider. The last Prussian turned his horse around, pulled his saber then charged. Zeke pulled his trigger; his shotgun was empty. He ducked the swing meant to decapitate him then twisted in his saddle to avoid a thrust at his ribs. He blocked another swipe with his gun, but it was obvious his luck was running slim. The Prussian suddenly pulled up, then fell from his mount. A throwing knife protruded from the back of his neck.
Zeke turned to see Famara ride up to him.
"That was stupid," Famara said.
"It was necessary," Zeke replied. "If these fellas got back they'd bring more friends. If they don't show up we’ll maybe have a little more time to get where we're going."
Famara nodded. "Let's get back to the villa."
When they returned to the villa Annette and the others were tending their wounded. Annette wiped her hands.
"What happened?"
"They're dead," Zeke said. "We need to be moving. More will come. Y'all probably need to come with us."
"That won't be necessary," Annette said. "If anyone else comes my men will tell them you attacked the villa and took me hostage."
Famara looked confused. "Took you hostage?"
Annette smiled. "Your device might tell you some things, but I know this country. I'll take you as far as I can."
Famara looked at Zeke and Zeke shrugged. "She's got a point."
"Come then, we must be on our way," Famara said.
The three of them gathered provisions then mounted their steeds. They headed north, into the mountains and into Germany.