The Geomancer (18 page)

“No.” Simon laughed. “Everyone loves you. Everyone. I mean the vampire prince in Scotland.”

Greyfriar paused in confusion, then said, “Oh, yes. Gareth.”

“Yes. Him. Have you met him?”

“I have.”

Simon saw himself reflected in the lenses of Greyfriar's glasses. “What do you think of him?”

“Not much.”

“Traitors of any kind are disgusting, even if they're useful. Some people say he might be controlling Adele, that he's been controlling her since she was his prisoner. They say he was one of the bloodiest leaders of the Great Killing, and now he's using her to take power among his own kind.”

“No. He's a beaten man.”

“Man?” Simon's voice cracked with surprise.

“Vampire.”

“Did he truly turn on his own kind?”

“He did.”

“But why? If he's nothing but our prisoner now, what did it gain him?”

Greyfriar felt a coldness seep through him. He was suddenly aware of the scarf covering his face and the slight deflection of light through his glasses. “I don't know.”

Simon sat down at his desk and placed a hand on a stack of folders. “What has he gained other than a castle in Scotland, which he had anyway? Is he the last of his line?”

“Yes. His clan is no more. Gareth is alone.”

“Good,” Simon snarled, but then glanced at Greyfriar. “Did vampires kill your family? Is that why you're the Greyfriar?”

“Nothing quite so heartbreaking and romantic, I'm afraid.”

The young prince stared at the swordsman. “Then why did you become the Greyfriar? I mean, you were someone before this. Why did you stop being him and become you?”

“I'm sorry, Simon.” Greyfriar unconsciously tightened the scarf around his face. “I can't tell you.”

“You've told Adele.”

“No, I haven't.”

“Your family knows at least, right?”

“I have no family left alive.”

“Oh, I'm sorry.” Simon leaned forward as if in commiseration, as an adult would share a moment, but sounding uncertain and young. “Do you miss them?”

“I find that, with time, I miss my father a great deal.”

“Me too. I wish mine was still here.” The young prince tapped his fingers on the folders. He stared at them for a long moment, sliding them around to see the labels on each, from top to bottom of the pile. “When are you leaving for the Himalayas?”

“Tomorrow morning, if possible. Adele wanted to come tell you, but I asked her if I could instead. I've seen so little of you since we came to Alexandria.”

“Thank you. What about General Anhalt?”

“He requested to come along. He does speak the local languages. But there are other available translators, and Adele is concerned about his health. She is more disposed to leave him here to help you.”

“No!” Simon objected. “You have to take him. Adele tries to protect others too much. He needs to go.”

“But there are times he can barely walk without a cane. Where we're going, that's very dangerous.”

“It doesn't matter! He needs to go. Trust me. He would rather die in service than sit behind a desk of papers. Please. Convince Adele to take him. I have plenty of advisors here. But General Anhalt has only one purpose—to protect Adele. You understand that, don't you?”

Greyfriar nodded after a moment. “I do. I will speak with her. I would welcome General Anhalt at my side under any circumstances. One day, I hope you and I will share an adventure or two.”

Simon offered an attempted smile. “You'll watch out for her, won't you?”

Greyfriar replied, “Of all people, Adele hardly needs anyone watching over her.”

Simon put his foot up on the desk and gazed out a window to the harbor. He took a deep wistful breath. “I'm worried about her. So take care of her. I don't want to be emperor.”

“Have no fear.” The swordsman rose and reached out to the boy. “You're a good man.”

“Thank you.” Simon shook the gloved hand. “So are you.”

Greyfriar didn't reply.

C
HAPTER 17

HMS
Edinburgh
broke through the clouds into a dome of blue sky, the world below lost in a white fog. The early streaks of sunrise smudged the horizon like saffron paint over rice paper. The snow-capped tops of the Himalayas floated around them like icebergs on a misty sea. High winds blew plumes of snow off craggy surfaces flaring behind the monoliths like streams of white ribbons.

The scenery dwarfed the airship. It was a medium-sized ship, considered a brig because she sported only six masts. The sun glinted off her aluminum cage surrounding the dirigible from which the wooden hull was suspended. The masts extended from the dirigible, two along the top and two laterally from each side. A miraculously complex system of cables and shrouds connected the deck and the masts and the yards, and these were currently crowded with men taking in sail.

Greyfriar marveled at the magnificence of the panorama; it was so different than anything he had seen, stark and frigid. In all his travels, he had never flown so high. Ice crusted the handrail where he stood. Crewmen hammered at the frozen rigging to keep it clear.

Adele shivered beside Greyfriar, wrapped in heavy wool and thick furs, her face barely visible. Even the fierce winds that swept across the swaying ship would not deter her from such an impressive sight. On the icy deck stood her stoic Harmattan, pillars of red serge and steel undaunted by the vicious conditions.

Anhalt limped carefully across the frosted quarterdeck, leaning on his cane, to join them at the rail. The man's face was grey under his fur-lined hood, and his breathing was even more labored than Adele's. They both relied on breathers to ease their straining lungs in the oxygen-deprived air. The device was fixed over the nose and mouth, and a small brass canister nestled under the chin. Most of the crew carried them, particularly the topmen, who climbed the icy shrouds and lines overhead. Originally they were for use on the new higher flying ironclad steamnaughts, but Anhalt wisely made sure the
Edinburgh
was equipped with them in advance of this perilous journey.

Adele carried her camera on a strap around her neck, but found its limited scope ill-suited to capture the incredible majesty of the mountains under them. The lens was icing up too, making her fearful that it would shatter with no replacement. She raised it one last time and snapped a photograph of the ship's officers huddled on the wind-ripped quarterdeck.

Captain Hariri stood at the icy binnacle, where pneumatic tubes and speaking horns led to all parts of the ship, including the tops and the chemical deck below. He shouted into a speaking tube and ordered buoyant gas pumped into the dirigible at a rate that would be dangerous closer to the surface. The diminished air pressure at this altitude allowed him to overinflate, to drive the airship up into the thin atmosphere.

Fortunately, the
Edinburgh
only needed to stay this high long enough to traverse the first impenetrable range of the Himalayas. Hariri consulted an old map of the region; it was not a navigation chart, but it was the best he had. He watched the sails overhead as they grew stiff with ice and the brig sank back into the clouds. He could pour no more gas into the dirigible, even flying this high, without guaranteeing an explosion.

Mountain peaks loomed on every quarter. The clouds rose past them to form their ceiling. They were in a high mountain valley. Rocky cliffs broke over the highlands like cresting waves and in their shadow stretched deep narrow river gorges. The land far below was frozen under a thin blanket of snow. Crystal lakes glistened, fed by glacial streams with icy rivers that stretched like arms.

Adele exclaimed, “Such majesty. I've never seen . . . its like.” Her words came in ragged gasps through the filter in the breather facemask.

Greyfriar pointed out the distant tiny shapes of goats perched precariously on the sides of a treacherous slope.

General Anhalt gazed about in awe, but labored for breath. “It's said that . . . gods live . . . in these mountains, bringing well-being . . . and prosperity. According . . . to the amount . . . of veneration. I suppose.”

“I'm praying . . . very hard, trust me,” Adele told him.

A down draft battered the
Edinburgh
, and everyone at the rail staggered as the ship dropped sickeningly. Greyfriar steadied Adele and grabbed Anhalt, who had lost his footing. If it weren't for the swordsman's steel grip, the old soldier would have sprawled hard to the deck. A mountain reared up beside them.

“Hold on!” shouted Captain Hariri.

The long masts extending from the dirigible overhead scraped against a cliff. Snow and rocks tumbled and the masts creaked. Yardarms snapped and sails shredded. Ice shattered off the rigging and pelted the deck in a shower of frozen knives. Greyfriar flung his cloak over Adele. Most of the glittering shrapnel bounced off harmlessly, crackling against the deck, but a few daggers struck crewman.

The ship swung wildly and bounced back into the vast chasm between the mountains. Orders were shouted and signal flags dispatched. Heavy thrashing sails were slowly brought under control and hauled back, lashed into place.

Adele kept her face calm, but she watched Captain Hariri closely as officers came and went with reports. Eyes constantly went upward. Finally, the captain stepped over to Adele at the rail and gave her a quick salute.

“Damage is minimal, Your Majesty. We should be able to continue. We can affect repairs when we put down.”

Anhalt held the rail, bracing himself against more untimely jolts. “I survived two air crashes only to be nearly killed colliding with Mount Everest.”

Hariri smiled at his old friend. “Then you will be happy to know that's not Everest. That is.”

He pointed to a mammoth mountain off their port side. Its immensity shamed all others as it jutted up into the clouds. Necks ached as their gaze followed sheer rock and snow up into the swirling mist.

The
Edinburgh
steadied under their feet as the winds went from gale force to mere occasional gusts. Still it remained a bumpy ride, with the vessel shuddering against the mountains' breath. Every inch of her creaked under the strain.

Adele found the air a little easier to breathe. She reached into her pocket and removed a sheet of heavy paper. Unfolding it, she revealed a strange arrangement of lines, some intersecting on dots of varying size, some running off into lonely space.

Hariri leaned next to her, staring at the peculiar chart. “How much longer until we reach the village do you reckon, Your Majesty?”

“The sooner the better,” muttered Anhalt to Greyfriar.

“It's hard to say.” Adele ran her fingers along several of the lines. She tapped the chart. “I think we're here. We're close.”

“Ah. I thought as much.” Hariri rolled his eyes sarcastically. “Forgive me, but I can't make heads nor tails of your . . . map.”

“It's geomancy. These are ley lines and those dots are nodes where the rifts come together. This chart was made by Selkirk himself when he traveled in this region years ago.”

“Yes, you explained it to me before, but I must just trust you to direct the ship while I do my best to keep it from crashing into a mountain.”

Anhalt snorted and Hariri gave him a sharp glance. Adele put a finger to her lips thoughtfully. “All right. It should be . . .” She pointed a few degrees right of the ship's bow. “That way.”

“That way.” Hariri nodded with a blank face. “If that's what we are resorting to, very well.
That way
, it is. If we may trust the directions given to you by your lunatic, I'm sure we will be there soon.”

The ship turned two points to starboard. Adele folded her map and shoved it in her pocket. A man in the tops shouted down through a megaphone and signaled to starboard. Adele went back to the rail and looked over to see a fairly flat patch of land, dusted with snow. Near it was a small stone village surrounded by a meager wall, a speck of life in the wide desolation.

Adele turned around and grinned at Captain Hariri. The captain returned a gesture with his hand across his forehead, lips, and heart. He bowed to her.

“The plateau seems very small,” Greyfriar said. It was perhaps only the size of several small farm plots. However, buoyant gases were already venting and sails furled. The ship dropped. Soon, her hull scraped along the snow, sending up a great wake of white. Field anchors dropped overboard to gouge the frozen land and slow the ship, but still, the
Edinburgh
crept forward toward the edge of the plateau. Mooring lines were tossed over the rails and scores of men went over too, sliding down the lines to hit the ground running. They seized the flopping cables in groups and dug in their feet with groans and curses at the ship and each other. Between the bite of the spiked anchors and the straining, muscled backs of the mooring gangs, the ship finally lurched to a full stop.

Adele took Anhalt's guiding hand and descended the gangplank after it slammed noisily to the ground. Greyfriar could tell it was she who was keeping Anhalt steady instead. They passed among the men who worked furiously to stabilize the
Edinburgh
in the winds that swept across it, pounding thick posts into the icy ground and lashing her down.

The snow was so dry it swirled about in sparkling granules with the least disturbance of boots. The air was dry too, and the cold sun broke through the cloud layer to coat the expanse with rich sunshine.

Lifting a hand to block the glare, Adele stared at the village in the distance. “I hope that's the right one.”

This was the first real settlement they had seen in hundreds, perhaps thousands, of miles of endless mountains. They heard dogs barking. The village itself had nothing particularly striking about it. The buildings were smeared with mud and grime. There were small structures built against many house walls, which Anhalt explained were sanctuaries dedicated to local divinities. Lines were stretched between all the buildings and draped with colorful strips of cloth, prayer flags that sent supplications heavenward with each flutter of wind. Bright material of crimson and yellow streamed from houses.