26

Lord Rothfair blinked for several seconds before words would come to mind.

Verne stood motionless in the doorway of the parlor, his hat in his freakishly long fingers.

“Just…disappeared?” Rothfair repeated. “How is that possible?”

“Janus told the truth, it seems,” Verne answered. “I’ve returned from speaking to my contacts and his account of the events in Outer City appears accurate. This Ashton Wells, the man the machinist made the foil wings for, blew three Union ships to smithereens and fled with the girl.”

“Did they pilfer some sort of warship during the fracas?” Rothfair balled his hands at his hips. “I mean, really!”

“No, it was a supply cutter,” Verne gestured toward the flower arrangement on a mantel over the fireplace. “The ship had vases and the like. The captain was a regular in Port Rodale, elderly fellow with no military training before or after The Great Calamity that I know of. It looks as if he just happened to be on the ship when Mr. Wells and your girl climbed aboard, I suspect.”

“You’re saying a single man and a girl barely of age, kidnapped an old man for his ship, and then took on three Aero Squad ships in battle…and won?”

“And disappeared.”

“Into the sea?”

“No, just into thin air.” Verne shrugged. “They kept disappearing from the sky and then reappearing out of the darkness only to launch what was described by those present as ‘a rain of fire like none other,’ is what they said.”

“Is that so?” Rothfair crossed his arms, the fingers of his right hand worrying the tip of his moustache. “Anything else?”

“Before Outer City nearly went down, a lady was seen shooting a revolver, of all things, into a crowd, running with Mr. Wells from lawmen, and…” Verne said as he put his hand up. “This is purely rumor I’m sure, but she leapt from a dangling prison, from which she escaped, by dropping onto a passing airship below.”

“Well, that can’t be right,” Rothfair snorted. “Charlotte Blackburn could barely tolerate society without breaking into hives, let alone survive Outer City. She hid behind potted plants in my ballroom! Are you sure this woman with Ashton was not some sort of fellow member of The Order?”

Verne sighed, pulling a rolled piece of aethergraph paper from the inside pocket of his jacket. “Here is a sketch one of the witnesses gave the Union Security Soldiers. He is a lawman up there and said she attacked him with a lightning stick for no reason.”

Rothfair pulled a monocle from the pocket of his vest, maneuvered the secondary lens into place over the first, and adjusted the focus knobs.

He stared at raven hair in wild disarray, piercing eyes, and the defiant jut to her chin that called to mind her father. He eyed the image for some time, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Blackburn’s daughter, indeed.”

“Mind you, this witness was a trained interrogator and she took him out with one swipe,” Verne said.

Rothfair looked up at the almost impressed tone to his voice. “You like her.”

“I like to know when I’m wrong about someone,” Verne murmured with a shrug. “The soldiers who broke into her home and took the colonel said he gave her something.”

“Yes, and they also said she leapt from the building and flew over their heads.”

“Well, that seems like not such an outrageous thing given what she’s done since.”

“Perhaps she is not running scared, but on a mission after all,” Rothfair mused. “She never returned home or contacted friends. She fled to Outer City instead with this Ashton Wells. A man whom The Order claims has gone rogue. Why there? Were they meeting someone?”

“You think she was looking for someone specific?” Verne bit at his inner cheek. “A contact of her father’s?”

“I think it is possible Colonel Blackburn betrayed The Order and aligned himself with Defiance some time ago. It would explain a lot of his actions of late. And if that is true, it is not a terrible leap to believe he sent her to meet with them.”

“Miss Blackburn is secretly a part of Defiance?” Verne narrowed his gaze and gave a slight nod. “Perhaps.”

Rothfair closed his eyes, imagining a few nights ago. “I saw her face at the ball when we caught that sympathizer delivering messages for Defiance. Later, I heard of whispers among the staff of her secretly speaking with that very servant minutes before the girl disappeared. I believed at first Miss Blackburn was simply misplacing womanly sympathies, but now…”

“Is it possible the note was meant for her and she has been with the group for some time?” Verne gripped his hat, his face lighting up. “What a naughty lady, Miss Blackburn.”

“If she is with them, then her father may have told her what he suspected.” Rothfair swallowed hard. “Do you think what he gave her is proof I’ve been framing Defiance for the factory explosions?” Countless moments flashed in Rothfair’s mind. Scenes he’d dismissed earlier now made sense.

Charlotte’s opera glasses whirring, her unwavering stare over her fan as a guest acted as if he’d been shot with a…

Rothfair steadied himself against the back of the upholstered chair near the fireplace. Had he underestimated a foe so completely as to not even know they were in his midst?

“Blackburn was a scientist, not an investigator,” Verne said, pulling Rothfair back. “More likely, he discovered something about why you were blowing up your own properties.”

“That cannot get out,” Rothfair said a little too loudly. He cleared his throat. “People would not understand. They would panic.”

“Speaking of why,” Verne said, shifting from foot to foot.

Rothfair looked, pulled a kerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the back of his neck. “Yes? Have you made headway as to why it would infect children that never left the safety of the city?”

“There is no discernable reason,” Verne said, his brows knit. “I’ve examined the bodies and even tested the lake water at the Pennsylvania mining camps Blackburn visited. I have found nothing that explains how it is spreading. It should not be. It should have been contained to the facilities.”

“And yet we are hearing tales of missing people, violent fevers, and mangled bodies. It is not contained, Verne. Not in the least,” Rothfair spat. He paced, sweat trickling down in cold rivulets along his spine. “If we could at least decelerate the spread…”

“You must contact the Ignition Laboratory Committee,” Verne urged.

“The Tesla Dome would cease to operate in a two weeks’ time if we even slowed production of the paltry coal we can still manage to scrape out of the ground.” He pointed upwards, his hand shaking. “That grid is the only thing keeping us all from dying because the poisoned gas of the wasteland and the engine eats through tons of coal a month. Imagine that multiplied by the thirteen domes in operation around the Peaceful Union. We cannot afford to cease production for any reason or millions of lives will be at stake.”

“But we can’t stop this blight. Even if we could stop initial infections, there are already signs of secondary—”

“Blackburn could,” Rothfair cut across him. “I believe he may have found a way.”

“You can’t know that.”

“He was a renowned scientist in his field, responsible for countless remedies to the toxins and vapors affecting our populace. If anyone could, it would be Blackburn.”

“Perhaps he meant to broker a truce between The Order, Defiance, and the Governors. A scientist would put a cure above all else, no matter to whom he swore obedience.”

“If we had only had time to question his contact on the wharf that night.” Rothfair shot a look at Verne. “He would have been more valuable alive than dead.”

“He recognized me,” Verne snapped. “Either way, we could not have known Blackburn never meant to show.”

“Yes, he had us chasing shadows while he broke into my facility.” Rothfair balled his fist.

“My question is how he managed to get back into Manhattan unobserved?”

“I’ve been thinking about that very point,” Rothfair said. “Blackburn must have gone through a commuter station. There are hundreds of workers entering and leaving the Domes every day. They cannot check everyone’s citizen papers. He would know that.”

“If he sought to elude the government as well...” Verne snapped his fingers and pointed. “Then he must have suspected The Order and the Governors knew about the sickness already and were covering it up. It would explain his turning to Defiance.”

“How long do you suppose Blackburn colluded with Defiance?”

“Long enough to trust them to meet, at least,” Verne said thoughtfully. “And Miss Blackburn?”

“We can’t be sure she wasn’t the one who turned him in the first place,” Rothfair mused. “They are radical, rash, and uncompromising. The very sort a motherless girl raised by a militant father might find interesting.”

“If she finds out about the cavern…”

“It won’t matter,” Rothfair said, waving his hand dismissively. “She’ll be behind bars or better yet, dead, by that time.”

“How can you be so confident? As of yet, all efforts to apprehend her have failed.”

“I think,” Rothfair said quietly as he strode to the aethergraph machine. “We just haven’t been using the right incentive.”

“Her father?” Verne looked at him doubtfully. “How would that work? She’ll know right away.”

“Perhaps, but not fast enough to avoid capture.”