31

The massive subterranean cavern echoed with Arecibo’s footfalls as he treaded back and forth across the thirty yards of limestone lit by caged incandescents. He peered down each aisle of metal beds, stopping to adjust a feed line or check the intake valve of a tube. The vapor of his breath followed him in the chill of the underground space. He tugged his cloak around his shoulders closer and smoothed his silver hair. The armor at the foot of each bed glinted in the flickering glow of the bulbs and he paused, checking a helmet. Making sure each lead was positioned correctly, each wire securely fastened to deliver the needed jolts and dose of Solenium.

He paused, feeling dwarfed by the sheer numbers of this floor alone. His gaze wandered to the lone glass chamber standing upright against the rock wall. The bluish liquid long gone stagnant from lack of use, he wandered over, his jaw working. Adjusting the flow meter, he watched the leather bindings suspended in the fluid move lazily with the undulating current. A glass tank mounted on the wall bubbled with silver liquid. The electric leads attached to the head band sizzled in the moist air. All of it ready and filling him with despair. He needed her. Time was running out.

Hurried footfalls sounded from near the entrance, and Arecibo stepped into an aisle to see who it was. The telltale bald pate and flowing tunic of an abbey novice spurred hope in Arecibo. Perhaps all was not lost. He strode to meet him.

“Färber,” Arecibo said. “What is it?”

“My lord, Viceroy,” the novice said and bowed. He offered up a scrap of aethergraph missive.

“There is news?” Arecibo inspected the paper. “From where?”

“A distress signal was sent to our house of veneration in New Maine not an hour ago,” the young man explained. “When we surmised its purpose, I came to you straightaway.”

Arecibo read the etchings. He tried to hide the shaking of his hands as relief flooded his chest. “This man, this Gustav, is he there still?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Is she alive?” Arecibo asked, walking back towards the entrance. She has to be.

“Well, that is…” Färber began. “Yes.”

“Excellent.” Arecibo took in a calming breath and flicked the switch for the overhead incandescents. The cavern darkened with the sequential clang of power interrupting as the bulbs darkened.

“Do they have her on ice, at the very least?”

“Pardon, Viceroy, but she is more than still alive. This Gustav claims she nearly drowned his crew and abducted their leader.”

Arecibo stopped mid-stride staring at Färber. “That is not possible. Blackburn must be near death with weakness at this point. She was forced to fight our knights in a freezing storm and was chased off of Outer City by an angry mob. The Solenium is surely spent at this point.”

“That is what I have been attempting to relay, my Lord. This Gustav is saying that Blackburn showed up out of nowhere, crashed landed, and that she was very sick, but Professor Hunley—”

“Prudence!” Arecibo growled. The woman disappeared nearly a year ago from this very facility without a trace. He’d spend months trying to figure out how she escaped, let alone where she went. And Charlotte just happened upon them? Impossible. “How did Blackburn find Hunley? Was it Wells?” He shouted.

“Sir, I do not know, but—”

“It was Wells,” Arecibo spat. “Who else would it be?” He crumpled the missive in his hands, pacing. Anger burned in his chest, and he rammed a nearby tower of crates with a growl, sending them crashing to the ground. “How did Hunley help her?”

“Something about Solenium,” Färber explained. “I-I do not understand how, but…”

“What?” Arecibo shook his head, not believing. “From where?”

“I do not know, my Lord,” Färber said, watching warily. “But this man said he believed Blackburn was headed to Outer City. He says he needs The Order’s help for injured colleagues, and to rescue Professor Hunley. The New Main governor denied him aid as they are outside the dome.”

Arecibo blinked, unsure he had heard correctly. “She returns? You are certain?”

“That is what he thinks, my Lord.”

“Who else knows about this man?” Arecibo asked.

“No one, not even the house magistrate has been told,” Färber said, wringing his hands. “As you requested, should we hear anything at all about Blackburn, to let you know immediately. My counterpart at the New Maine Abbey secured Gustav in a room and told me straightaway.”

“Well done.” Arecibo strode past the novice and climbed the spiral stone steps leading to the ground floor. “Ready my air ship. I leave immediately.”

“Sir,” Färber said, bowing and hurrying off.

Arecibo took the steps two at a time, ran down the corridor, and burst into his laboratory office. His assistant leapt to his feet so abruptly his chair toppled over.

“Viceroy,” he gasped. “Is there something wrong?”

“Marcellus, secure the equipment we talked about,” Arecibo ordered. “Have it on my ship as quickly as possible. All of it.”

“Blackburn?” Marcellus rounded the desk, his face alight. “You found her.”

“Yes.” Arecibo handed him a leather-bound journal. “Once I am gone, give this to Aceves. He will know how to proceed.”

“The Spaniards?” Marcellus wrinkled his nose. “They have been here but a month and know nothing of this place. Whatever you need, my Lord, I am more than capable.”

“They are here under my orders. It is none of your concern.”

“Those men are not of The Order. I am sure of it,” Marcellus said.

“Do as I say! You are to give Aceves and his men anything they ask,” Arecibo snapped. “Without exception. They know what I require. Do not get in their way.”

“Yes, Viceroy,” Marcellus muttered, his face a mask of anger. “Whatever you wish.”

“And free some knights,” Arecibo ordered, thinking of Wells. “There may be trouble.”

Marcellus stared at him, not moving.

“Go, now,” Arecibo snapped and waved him off.

Once alone, he pulled the aethergraph out of the hidden panel behind his desk and tapped out a message to Christina.

Our plans align perfectly. Blackburn is nearly in hand. Launch Lafayette Initiative immediately. I will meet you on the sands.