Two days later, it was clear to Erhard that the crew of the Draugen was shattered in body and spirit. Ludwig, Johan, and Lars slouched sullenly upon their lookout stools atop the sun-drenched deck of their speeding airship. They spied upon the Lady Penelope, which flew far ahead and below the Draugen’s current trajectory. The Vikings gingerly held binoculars and telescopes against faces decorated with black eyes and smashed noses. Taking blows from the cowboy and the dandy—or in Ludwig’s case, being chased through the streets of Rome by a pack of furious females—had been deeply humiliating for his Swedish henchmen. If he had been there to help them, would the outcome have been any different? But Erhard had chosen to leave them alone to pursue his own mission for revenge.
His troops had not yet forgiven him for ordering them to attempt kidnapping Constance without his help. And he was finding it difficult to forgive them for almost killing the prize that Oscar desired above all else. How would he have explained to the King and Lady Nay that all their machinations to seize Constance Haltwhistle alive had ended with her being choked to death at the Papal Palace? As if his men’s clumsiness was not enough to concern him, they clearly disapproved of the wicked revenge he had taken upon the entire crew of the Lady Penelope.
Erhard knew many ways to torture an enemy. Beatings and sleep deprivation were easy punishments for any hired henchman to administer. But emotional torture was far more effective and long-lasting. And what greater pain could he inflict upon Constance’s crew than tearing the smallest, cutest member of their found family away from their collective bosom? He’d snatched her right from the deck of their ship while docked in Rome. She’d been fast asleep, guarded only by the similarly snoozing servant Cawley. She’d succumbed to a deftly placed handkerchief over her snout without raising a single yap. Her youth and trust in the people around her had led directly to her undoing as she trusted them to keep her safe as she slumbered.
He leaned down to slip a sliver of roasted seagull to the Yorkie puppy securely locked in an iron-barred crate. Boo snarled and snapped, turning her nose up at the offered meat. “You’re going nowhere, little dog. You’d best get used to eating the pigeon of the sea. It tastes just like chicken, more or less.”
The tan-and-black canine, denied her favorite luncheon of steak tenderloin, turned up her button nose at his meager offering. The little bitch was clearly as stubborn as her red-haired mistress. Erhard dropped a second piece of meat into the cage. Boo turned her back and dug imaginary dirt back over the meat.
His men chuckled at the puppy’s defiance. Here was his chance to reestablish a connection with his Swedish troops. They were all on the same side, after all. He enthusiastically joined in their laughter. “She’s a fireball, this one. You can see why I stole her, can you not? How better to punish the crew of the Lady Penelope for thwarting the machinations of Prince Lucien and myself in England. Constance’s crew dotes upon this feisty ball of fluff. What better way to hurt them than to snatch her from their warm embrace? They don’t know if she was stolen, got lost, or was snatched from the deck by a ravenous seagull. It’s the uncertainty over a lost loved one’s fate that hurts people the most. Their minds can imagine dreadful dooms far more horrific than any I would ever inflict upon this adorable pooch.”
Johan laid his telescope upon his lap and crossed his broad arms. “Then you do not intend to harm Boo? If our duty requires that we hurt people, so be it. But harming a puppy is out of the question.”
Erhard spread his hands wide. “I absolutely agree. No harm shall come to the pup. In fact, she may become the Draugen’s mascot, should she choose to switch sides. You can rename her whatever you like. Boudicca is a fearsome name for such a sweet-natured beast.”
Boo growled at him with all the ferocity her two-pound body could muster. Erhard ignored her and continued, “Snatching this pooch caused severe emotional pain to Oscar’s enemies. Now that the crew mourns the loss of their pet, they’re off their game. Our next attempt to kidnap Constance will come easier as she is no doubt exhausted from sobbing herself to sleep over the dog’s imagined fate.”
Johan nodded thoughtfully. “She has looked increasingly wan and bleary-eyed as she wanders the deck of the airship. Perhaps she is weaker now than she once was.”
“Then we are united in our commitment to our mission, each other, and our great King Oscar?” said Erhard. When the Vikings nodded their affirmation, he said with a genuine smile, “Then let us continue our pursuit of Lady Haltwhistle with renewed vigor. I shall take the next watch. Perhaps you can teach our new crew member some tricks?” He leaned down to unlock the iron cage. Boo bolted out and raced around the deck yapping with joy.
The Viking warriors melted before her charm offensive. They abandoned their telescopes and binoculars to crouch upon the deck to play with the bouncing puppy.
Erhard held in a sigh at their soft-heartedness and raised his binoculars to view the three airships they had been shadowing since leaving Rome. The trio of ships ahead was strung out over five miles of airspace like porcelain ducks on a living room wall. Since he last checked her path, the Lady Penelope had pulled far ahead of the pack on her westbound trajectory. The shapely stern of Haltwhistle’s ornate pink-and-gold baroque galleon contrasted sharply with the weathered teak rear end of the chartered airship, the Shoulder of Mutton.
On the deck of the Mutton, beneath awnings set up to protect them from the late afternoon sun, four stout women in twill travel gowns and battered straw boater hats tapped furiously away on Remington typewriters set atop sturdy teak desks. Perhaps the women were novelists? From the sound beating they had delivered to Ludwig, they certainly possessed the pent-up frustration of artists racked with the agony of creating universes from thin air. With no drinks before them except for several pots of steaming tea, they lacked the necessary measures of alcohol that helped many writers to appear like normal people in public. Was it possible that they were chasing Lady Haltwhistle in the hope she would become a patron of their art?
He swung his binoculars to the east, back toward Rome. On the edge of his vision, he could see the third airship, which was carefully keeping itself as far back as possible from both the Mutton and the Lady Penelope. On a reconnoiter swing around this final ship, Erhard had spotted the three ladies in jewel-toned bustled gowns and feather-bestrewn hats he’d seen following either Lady Haltwhistle’s party, the fierce novelists, or potentially both groups, at the Colosseum.
The fancy ladies were definitely not following the authors for fashion tips, and Lady Haltwhistle’s predilection for tiny hats didn’t suggest they’d have any interest in her advice either. It was more likely they were following the retired redcoat captain, gambler, and dandy, Lord Pendelroy. Perhaps they were spurned lovers, or perchance he owed them money?
No, their ship was small and sleek, with an automaton crew crafted from brass and bronze. They did not seem to be lacking in funds, so chasing down a debt seemed unlikely. Could they be following the cowboy? Then again, such fashionable ladies surely wouldn’t be seen dead with a Stetson-wearing buckaroo, which left only the scientists or the pirate captain. They could be interested in the Lady Penelope’s automaton, he supposed, but it had disappeared down to the furnace room for shoveling duty, a role fulfilled by Lars on his own ship.
One thing was sure, these many coincidences meant the sophisticated ladies could not be innocent bystanders in this game of fox and hounds. He must watch his step, lest another interested party interfere with his next kidnapping attempt of the irksome Lady Haltwhistle. Thank heavens he’d had no more sightings of the mysterious grandmother with the silver-tipped sword cane who’d spooked him at the Colosseum. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was out there, somewhere, watching him as closely as he watched Constance Haltwhistle.
Despite the heat of the sun’s rays beating upon the deck, a shiver ran down his spine. But perhaps the chill was caused by his anticipation of his next odious task. It was time to activate the creepy communication device Lady Nay insisted he use to report his progress, or lack thereof, to the King.
Erhard drew the mysterious hand mirror from the pocket of his jacket. He kept the Enigma Key that caused the mirror to spring into life in a separate pocket, lest Lady Nay use the activated mirror to spy upon his movements. As he drew the cool metal triangle of the Key out into the sunlight, an electrical charge nipped at his palm. He scowled at the Key before placing it into its triangular socket. The Key glowed red from within, and the copper wiring around the mirror frame hummed to life. His reflected image in the handheld mirror dissolved into static, and then . . . snow? The device’s identical receiving mirror appeared to have been left on a windowsill in the Palace of Stockholm. He could see the edge of an open window frame and flakes of snow falling against a backdrop of swirling purple clouds. Or was it ash that fell?
He waited, watching the snow, or ash, drift down. If the King did not have the mirror to hand, surely there was a footman assigned to watch the mirror for incoming messages? He cleared his throat. “Your Majesty?” he asked the snow. “Are you there?”
A chair rasped against floorboards somewhere close to the mirror, and shortly afterward the King appeared. His unshaven face was scored with deep wrinkles and despair clouded his rheumy eyes. “Erhard, is that you? Have you seen the storm?”
The King held his mirror up to the window. The beautiful city of Stockholm, the pride of the Swedish Empire, was blanketed by a layer of snow that glistened like violet crystals. Since winning the Battle of Poltava almost two hundred years before, the Swedes had enjoyed a lavish income from annexed Baltic states. With Russia weakened by corrupt leaders who cared nothing for their people, the Swedes had managed to gain the support of their subjects far and wide by the generous distribution of food and technology.
Winning the goodwill of nobles and peasants alike had always taken precedence over imperial expansion for King Oscar, until Lady Nay appeared in his court. Where she’d come from was a mystery. Erhard’s inquiries had found out only that she was nobility from a distant realm. People who asked too many questions about Nay tended to disappear in the night, so he’d not dared to take his investigations into her origins any further.
Stockholm’s elegant streets and broad river alike were choked with purple snow. Not a boat or a soul was visible in the eerie wasteland. The King whispered, “Where have they gone, Erhard? The people? My servants, my courtiers? I wake from sleep, and they have left me alone in the palace. Only Nay’s people are here, working around the clock on that confounded device. What is it for, Erhard? She tells me, but then I can’t remember what she said.” The King turned the mirror back to his own face and whispered, “Am I going insane, Erhard?”
“No, Your Majesty. It’s that woman. You must . . .”
The King jumped as a loud crash behind him indicated a door had been flung open. Lady Nay’s voice purred, “There you are, my liege. I’ve been looking for you.”
The King smiled at her faintly. “My lovely Lady Nay. Erhard is giving his report on—”
“Is he?” Nay crossed the floor between the door and the King with a surprising speed given the long train on her red, corseted ball gown. She had caused quite a stir in the royal court’s fashion-conscious ladies with her extra-long gowns. It was as if she sought to take up the most space she could in any room.
“And what is your report, Colonel?” Her tone made a polite form of address carry the same weight as a death threat.
“My men . . . rendered Lady Haltwhistle unconscious in Rome.”
Lady Nay leaned into the mirror, her green eyes glittering. “And?”
“Unbeknownst to us, she has hired an army of well-armed Amazons to defend her.” Beyond the view of the mirror, his Vikings silently nodded their confirmation of his words. What self-respecting henchmen would want to admit that lady novelists had got the better of them in a fight?
“Amazons?” Lady Nay growled. “And where is Constance now?”
“She’s back on her airship, heading full steam ahead for England.”
Lady Nay grimaced into the mirror. “I’ll wager she’s heading back to Haltwhistle Hall, in Yorkshire. Her entire family is obsessed by that crumbling pile and its sheep-ridden pastures.”
Erhard blinked. Could it be that he knew something Lady Nay didn’t? “Ah, I doubt it, your ladyship. The Hall was swept away through a mysterious vortex on the very day my former employer, Prince Lucien, marched on it with an army of redcoats. I didn’t see it myself, but apparently there is nothing left on the site but a massive hole in the ground.”
Lady Nay gaped at him. He suppressed the smirk that so desperately wanted to dance across his face.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me about this? Then that means . . . I thought only the Baron could generate a portal. How did his daughter persuade the Keys do her bidding?” She shook her head, her hair a dark, shining waterfall that could drown a man. Nay tapped a long, sharp fingernail against her chin. “I’ve watched a thousand versions of that girl across time and space, and none of them are this unpredictable. She’s chaos incarnate.”
“You never mentioned before that you knew Lady Haltwhistle personally,” said Erhard, trying to find sense in Nay’s words. Had she planted mirrors like this one in other dimensions? He’d discovered that alternate worlds existed while helping to track down an invisibility serum that dislodged humans into a void between dimensions. Their bodies disappeared from view to all onlookers, but they could still interact with physical objects in their original reality. The subjects of the experiments would have become the ultimate assassins, if only the experience of becoming invisible hadn’t driven them all insane.
Lady Nay tilted her head and frowned. “I don’t know this particular Constance, but I’ve viewed a thousand different versions of her. This Constance seems to be the worst by far. Perhaps it’s because her father succeeded in crossing the void, or they may have developed some unique physiological or psychic ability. In any world, this girl is too smart for her own good, but our current target goes beyond the pale. This Constance is a threat and an opportunity, all wrapped into one irritating bundle.”
She bit her lip, nonplussed, as the men who listened in from both sides of the mirror tried to grasp the meaning of her words. Ludwig petted Boo absently as the puppy snuffled in his pocket for possible treats. He scratched behind her ears, and the puppy grunted and yapped in appreciation.
Lady Nay leaned in toward her mirror. “What was that noise? Show me.”
Erhard reluctantly turned around his mirror to show his Viking warriors lounging upon the deck to play with the stolen terrier puppy.
Nay gasped. “Is that . . . the hellhound of the devil’s daughter?”
“The dog is Lady Haltwhistle’s pet, if that’s what you mean,” said Erhard.
Nay clapped her hands together in delight. “Ah, you’ve outdone yourself, Erhard. What excellent bait with which to set our trap. I should have thought of this myself. I’d toyed with snatching a servant or the cowboy, but what version of Constance would ignore the plight of a beast? Her attachment to animals has always been one of her most baffling traits, but I had never seen it as a weakness until now. Well done, Colonel.”
Erhard frowned. “I don’t see how—”
“I will handle matters from now on. First, I’ll prepare a gilded cage for the little beast. If Constance won’t be tempted to rescue her incarcerated mother, then perhaps she will fling caution aside to rescue a pampered pet. That creature is the closest thing she has to having a child of her own. Her maternal instinct will no doubt be as fierce as that of her mother, Annabella, a sickeningly kind individual who I’ve had the equal misfortune of viewing across many worlds and variations. I’ll bet that this Constance will risk everything to rescue her furry baby. But I will have to make some dangerous long-distance modifications to the Enigma Key you carry in your mirror to lay down a trail of electrical breadcrumbs that she can follow to Stockholm.”
“Dangerous for whom?” He felt a pang of worry not just for himself, but also for his men.
She gave a sharp-toothed smile. “Dangerous for Lady Haltwhistle, of course. Give me exactly forty-eight hours, then pull your airship in as close as you can to the Lady Penelope without being spotted. When I give you the signal, you’ll set off for Stockholm with Constance hot on your trail.”
“But . . . this is a stealth airship. She won’t be able to see . . .”
“There are other ways of seeing than by using human eyes, Colonel. Forty-eight hours. You have your orders.”
Lady Nay’s face dissolved into static. Erhard stared at his own face in the mirror once more. He pulled the Enigma Key from its socket and tucked it away.
Ludwig, Lars, and Johan’s Nordic brows were uncharacteristically furrowed as Boo bounced between them, clearly convinced that her salvation lay with them and not Erhard. The terrier wasn’t wrong, but perhaps he could use the puppy’s charismatic appeal to load the dice of fate to roll in his favor?
“Your guess is as good as mine as to what Lady Nay is planning for Boo, gentlemen,” said Erhard. “But know this—she may be preparing a gilded cage for our canine guest, but I will not let her harm a hair on our puppy’s head. You all no doubt remember that our good King Oscar of days long past was an avid animal lover. But Lady Nay . . . who knows what she’s capable of? Why, some might almost say that the only pet she leads around on an invisible leash is . . .”
King Oscar. He didn’t need to say it out loud. Understanding glimmered in his men’s eyes, the secret thought that none had dared share even with his fellow warriors.
The great King Oscar had become little more than Nay’s pet monarch.
But would his men stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him if he attempted to save the King?
And was there enough of the old King left to save?