Iron Horsemen (26 page)

Of course, how could she not be? The nobles managed their lives just like their estates, with precision and exacting standards. Pain ripped through my chest. I struggled to breathe and leaned against the wall.

Finn shook his head. “You like her. I understand, but lad, you'll have to learn your place. These people live in a world you'll only dream about. They're blue bloods; her whole life was planned from day one. Sorry kid, find yourself a good American girl.” Finn smiled, his bright red eyebrows rose up and down in a gesture I didn't quite understand.

“What? Yes, of course, I knew that. Please, at school I'm surrounded by nobles. It's nothing like that.” My face was hot and I tried to not clench my jaw. I wanted to put my fist through a wall.

I turned back to the men in hall, trying to forget what the Irishman said. The baron was still weak so they shuffled him into the conservatory. I wanted to hear what was being said, so I slipped out of the room with Finn and crossed the hall. The men inside talked about the events of the past few months. I leaned against the wall and listened.

“My daughter was foolish for leaving the way she did,” the baron said, “and Professor Armitage, you have my apologies that we did not take better care of your son.”

“The fault is not with you, Baron Kensington. My son is headstrong, and didn't think his actions through. I'm just glad he and your daughter returned safely.”

“Yes, no doubt due to the heroic efforts of our friend, Mr. Singh.”

I burned with anger. Now I
really
wanted to slam my fist into the wall. How could they sit there and say such things? How could Genevieve sit in there and listen to them without saying a word?

I heard the Duke's snooty voice. “I do hope she's outgrown this need for adventure. Your son as well, Professor. These are serious matters facing the crown, and the last thing we need is the interference of children.”

That did it! Angered erupted beyond anything I'd ever felt before, and I couldn't listen one second longer. I burst through the door so hard it slammed against the wall and bounced back almost hitting me. I slammed it again and stormed in. Everyone stared at me as if I had horns sprouting from my forehead but I didn't care. I strode forward and took command of the center of the room, just as I'd seen Captain Baldarich do on his ship.

“How dare you speak about us as if we're mere children? As if we somehow
interfered
in your grand plans—”

The Duke shook his head. “Not only children, but insolent ones at that—”

“I'm not done, Your Grace!” I pounded my fist on the table. “You responsible adults allowed the Knights of the Golden Circle to kidnap my father and then did nothing to save him.” I gestured to Genevieve's father. “Were you there when Baron Kensington was was struck by that serpent? No!” I turned to Marbury and Sinclair. I struggled to breathe, as if they'd sucked all the air out. “Genevieve and I took matters into our own hands. We found safe passage to Malta. We figured out what the Knights of the Golden Circle were planning. Together with the crew of the Sparrowhawk—yes, Sky Raiders!—we rescued my father from Lord Kannard's dungeon. With the help of Eustache, we repaired an airskiff and delivered the potion that saved the baron's life. And you sit in here and call us children.”

My father stomped his foot and reached out to grab me.
“Alexander, that is enough!”

I glared at him and stood my ground. “No it isn't. You call us children, but you know what I see? I see nothing but old men content to concoct plans in secret, content to watch England burn, while the Horsemen unleash their evil.”

“ALEXANDER!”

I turned on my father. “You'll not silence me today. I have fought and bled for this cause. I'm not a knight nor am I a member of some secret club you have to be born into.” I turned to the Duke, father of Genevieve's betrothed. “You hope Genevieve is done with her adventures? Why don't you speak to her directly? She's in the room. She's not a piece of furniture. She proved that when she singled handedly fought off Zerelda, the captain of the sky pirates, with a brilliant bit of swordplay. She proved that when she pulled me from a raging underground river and saved my life. She proved that when she mended the sails on the airskiff so we could escape Colonel Hendrix and his henchman. I'll not let you talk down to her or me. I don't care whose father you are, what order you command or what horrors you have witnessed. Do you think for one moment that we did not face the same or worse? And one last thing,” I turned to Baron Kensington. “Indihar Singh is a great man and he well deserves praise. But know this, you owe your life to your daughter and Eustache de Moley.”

I stopped, my chest heaving as if about to burst. I awaited their challenges, their mockery, and their dismissal, but until it came I was not moving.

The baron coughed and my hard heart shattered. I'd just yelled at a sick man. I looked at Genevieve expecting her to appreciate my defense, but her eyes blinked back tears. She looked shocked and a bit horrified.
Was she upset I had broken decorum and insulted the aristocracy?
I suddenly wanted to apologize. To her father. Not to anyone else. Never to them.
I would not take back one word of what I said to them.

The room was quiet. Everyone stood in stunned silence. The Duke was appalled and Lord Marbury's face looked stunned, but I was surprised to see Grand Master Sinclair had a broad smile on his face. Red and flushed, my father was livid. I thought for a moment that he might bend me over the table and paddle me right there.

From in the hallway outside the conservatory, Finn clapped his hands together and laughed. A knock at the front door jolted everyone out of silence. Finn and Mrs. Hinderman greeted a man who said, “I have a message for Lord Marbury.”

Mrs. Hinderman led the man into the conservatory. He entered and I relinquished the center of the room to the messenger, who wore a fine suit and carried a leather briefcase with the royal coat of arms embossed on the front.

The messenger stopped in front of Lord Marbury and bowed. He unlatched the brass lock on his briefcase and flipped open the top. Retrieving a bound scroll from inside, the royal messenger handed it to Lord Marbury. Then departed without waiting.

Lord Marbury broke the seal, unrolled the scroll, and read over the message. Concern knitted his brow as he glanced at Grand Master Sinclair, the baron, and the duke. “There were a series of thefts, the same night the professor was attacked. One concerns me; several of Nikolas Tesla's papers on loan to Oxford were stolen.”

Sinclair looked at everyone in the conservatory. “It is time to finalize our plans for the defense of London.”

The duke stepped forward. “Her Majesties Armies are ready to fight. Most are outside the city, but some are stationed within London. The constables will be ready to act as well.”

From his chair, the baron said with a labored voice, “They won't be enough, the power of the four Iron Horsemen is
beyond the power of rifles or swords.”

I reclaimed the center of the room. “Genevieve and I have seen the full power of the Iron Horsemen. Lord Kannard shredded bedrock with a single stomp of his steed's hooves. One almost destroyed us on the island of Malta. I can only imagine what four will do to London. Also, the Kaiser is sending soldiers. We saw the Zeppelins as we flew here.”

“The Kaiser?” Grand Master Sinclair said. “What is that pointy helmet doing sticking his bushy mustache where it doesn't belong?”

“Perhaps the Golden Circle has something on him,” the duke said. “Perhaps his attitudes have changed.”

Sinclair looked at the Duke. “Perhaps he's just a pompous ass.” He turned to the others. “Lord Marbury, return to Buckingham Palace and see what you can find about these papers.”

Lord Marbury nodded. “I'll borrow Finn, if it's all right with you, Max?”

The baron nodded and Marbury departed, calling for Finn as he stepped out the door. Grand Master Sinclair turned to the others, “We leave for the Tinkerer's Shop at once and you two,” he pointed to Genevieve and me, “are coming with us.” He walked over to Indihar who had been standing quietly on the edge of the gathering. “You as well, lad.”

The duke stopped the Grand Master with his cane pressed across the old man's chest. “I think I should get Her Majesty's Royal Armies ready to face the Kaiser's soldiers, don't you?”

“Yes, yes. You do that. And good day to you, Your Grace.”

The duke released Sinclair and I watched him walk away. I didn't like that man. At all. Maybe it was the fact that his son was set to marry Genevieve. Maybe it was the comments he'd made about our journey. Maybe it was his face. But something about that nobleman made my skin
jump like a flea-infested dog.

Grand Master Sinclair leaned over Baron Kensington. “We'll take the electric trolley to slip out of here without being noticed. Can you make it, old friend?”

“I wouldn't miss it. I'm fine, feeling better all the time.”

Genevieve helped her father. The Grand Master followed the two of them with Indihar, but my father grabbed me by the arm and held me back.

“You're not just getting away with that little outburst from earlier. Is that understood Alexander?”

“Yes, sir.”

My father held me tightly. “I taught you better than that.”

“Yes, sir,” I repeated.

He loosened his grip on my arm, and we followed everyone into the kitchen, through the secret passage in the pantry, and down the narrow stairwell.

“What is this place? I thought I'd explored all the secret passageways in the house,” Genevieve said to her father.

“Another one of those things I was going to tell you about when you were older.”

She huffed. “Typical, what's a secret society without its secrets.”

The trolley car pulled up as we stepped onto the brick platform. Genevieve looked around at the circular passage and the odd car with the antenna reaching up to the ceiling. She was intrigued and excited, and I was glad to see her sense of adventure was still there.

We all stepped into the trolley car and sat on the lush semicircular seats. Grand Master Sinclair closed the door, and we flew down the track.

I tried to speak with Genevieve, but she still attended to her weakened father so I kept my distance.

The trolley car stopped beside a large iron door. Sinclair ushered everyone off onto the brick platform. Removing an ornate brass key from his vest pocket, he unlocked the door and slid it to the right. The old Templar struggled with the massive door, so I helped him pull. A long hallway extended into darkness, but as we reached the end, we found only one door. It was labeled 636.

Sinclair yanked a nearby lever, and a bell ring in the distance. The old Templar pulled on one of the hinges and the door opened in the opposite direction. The false hinges reminded me of Gibraltar. A mechanized circular staircase twisted up through the ceiling like a corkscrew, rotating as if a giant drill tried to escape this underground tunnel. We stepped on and the stairs it carried us through the brick-lined passage. Lights in the risers of every third step lit the way.

I let my fingertips run along the passage wall, fascinated by the rough brick.

“Pull you hand back before it gets mangled,” my father scolded.

I flattened my palm against the surface and let my whole hand drag along as we moved ever upward.

Reaching an open section several levels up, Sinclair stepped off the stairs and the others followed. I wanted to keep riding, but hopped off in turn.

A short passage took us to another large metal door, and as Sinclair stepped onto the metal grate, the door slid open. Almost like magic. As we passed through, I looked up and saw the large mechanism that controlled the door and another grate on the other side. It had a clunky, homemade feel, not the factory built products that came off the new assembly lines.

We entered the lowest floor of a metal shop. I stepped into another world, a world of iron and steel, a world that dwarfed me as I walked amongst large pieces of scrap metal and unidentifiable machinery. The smell of oil and burning coal filled the air and the sound of a hammer pounding on metal echoed from all directions.

The center of the shop rose three stories to a metal roof with windows ringing the top. The dull light of an English day filtered through the soiled glass. The sun reflected off the shiny brass and seemingly ignited the dust which sent sunbeams crisscrossing through the open space. The hues it produced gave this place an ethereal look like the paintings I had seen in the Louvre.

Sinclair pointed to the floor above. “There he is! Come, the lift is over here.”

We moved to the back where a large metal plate connected to two iron eyebeams ran up all three stories. Two large wheels geared to an engine clamped around the eyebeams.

We all stepped on and Sinclair said, “Alexander, take us up.”

At the base of the lever I saw two symbols, a plus and a minus. Assuming plus meant up, I pushed a small lever up. The metal plate lurched and slowly moved up the eyebeam tracks. As the lift pulled up to the second floor I shifted the
lever back to center and it stopped abruptly.

Sinclair led us to the main work area. Tables, anvils, and a forge filled the space, along with other equipment I had never seen before. Some looked handmade, like the forge, which glowed bright orange and the heat radiated clear across the room. Other pieces like the train-engine-sized furnace had been scrounged from factories around London.

Seated at one table, hunched over a cylindrical iron mechanism, a man in a dirty white button down, suspenders and a thick rubber apron wrenched a bolt into place without even acknowledging that people had entered his shop. He finally whipped his head around as Sinclair cleared his throat. He had a few extra pounds and a second chin, his raven-hair ringed his head in a band, and his bushy mustache twisted out to points laden with enough dust and metal shavings to turn it gray. His goggles held a complex set of multiple lenses that amplified his eyeballs like a frog.