Brotherhood of the Strange (Kingship, Tales from the Aether Book 1) (12 page)

The cable car gave a rough jolt, the third in as many minutes. Each time, Cordelia clutched tightly at Oscar’s cage with one hand, and the armrest of her seat with the other. Oscar, on the other hand, seemed more disturbed at being jostled by his owner than the jolting and swaying of the heavily packed cable car. It was Cordelia’s first experience with a cable car, and she found it was moving far too slowly for her liking. It leisurely marched its way over the outskirts of London to the upland of Croydon, a hub for civilian air travel. She reminded herself constantly that these cable cars safely ran thousands of people to and fro daily, yet the mere thought of being over a thousand feet off the ground suspended by little more than a gossamer thread of steel was particularly unnerving. Looking around at the several dozen other passengers, Cordelia noticed a distinct lack of the terror that certainly framed her own face from the moment they left the ground some ten minutes previous. Nearby, a man in fine day wear and leather bowler hat politely held in one hand was reading the latest newspaper as calmly as anyone would in their own home, clearly disinterested and unaffected by the constant sway that assailed her with wave after wave of nausea. Though loath to do so, Cordelia forced herself to look out the window hoping her senses would reacclimatize to her surroundings and avoid what would be a most unladylike incident.

The morning sun bathed the upland of Croydon in the freshness of a new day. London, on the other hand still retained the characteristic gray mist below. Unfortunately, Croydon was not an ideal scenic vista. While it was not ugly per se, the whole upland had been a victim of the Industrial Revolution. The space thereon was devoted entirely to civilian transport and therefore hardly a tree could be found. Countless aetherships and the less frequent airships were moored, docked, or landed in a seemingly chaotic and haphazard fashion. Vessels of all sorts were coming and going, symbolic in Cordelia’s mind of the never-ending bustle and business of the British Empire itself. Even the upland itself was a symbol of sorts. The county of Croydon had been the only area of London to be torn away during the Great Calamity. As air travel became possible, Queen Victoria I had commissioned an area inside of London to be the center of civilian air travel and trade. However there had not been any area sufficiently large enough to meet those growing needs within King George’s Wall, the defensive structure which encircled London proper. In true British manner, the Queen demanded that the missing piece of her capital city, the upland isle of Croydon, be restored. The British military eventually located and recovered the two mile wide upland and anchored it firmly directly above where it had once resided before the Great Calamity.

Finally, the cable car came to a stop and the passengers began to disembark for whatever vessels they were bound. Cordelia’s hands shook as she tipped a porter to move her cartful of luggage off the cable car and out of the way while she figured out which ship was hers. Placing Oscar’s cage on the cart, she took over as the porter rejoined the cable car for its return to London below. She wheeled it into the main station which was enormous. A huge glass atrium several hundred feet wide provided a central hub for the dozens of lifts and passageways to mooring towers and docks. Taking a moment to collect herself amongst the myriad travelers and traders, she looked again at her ticket. The transport was scheduled to leave in less than an hour, from mooring tower B, on level twelve. Nearby was a large sign and map depicting the layout of the airport. Cordelia breathed a sigh of relief as she got her bearings and began to make sense of it all. This was so new and foreign to her she was beginning to realize just how one sided and sheltered her life had been. As a doctor, Cordelia had spoken before the learned at Oxford, saved countless lives, and built ingenious artifacts. Despite those amazing feats, here she stood, nervous and scared she wouldn’t be able to find her way to her transport in a public aetherport just outside her home city.

“Uncle, you are placing far more faith in me than I have in myself,” she muttered. Oscar screeched in reply. “I know, Oscar, it’s your bedtime. I’m sorry it is so loud and bright in here.” She took off her green jacket, reveling a tasteful back corset and frilly blouse, then placed it over the cage. “That should help, at least with the light.” The owl’s protests grew less, and Cordelia could hear the soft clicking of his mechanical wing. “I hope bringing you along was the right choice. I’m afraid I’m not suited to the life of adventure the way Uncle Degory is. I find this whole ordeal most distressing.” Tucking away her travel papers, she continued, more to herself than to the sleepy owl, “However, we must press on. Spit spot, no more dallying, girl.”

To her surprise, she found her transport quickly and without delay. The aetherport was efficient and well signed. A large steam powered lift hissed and hummed as it brought her and a dozen other passengers with their belongings up to the level where her aethership was moored. Though enclosed by metal grating, the open air design of the lifts gave Cordelia another bout of nausea and the girl wondered if air travel would ever agree with her. Porters again came and took her trolly of luggage, though just as before she kept Oscar’s cage and her medical bag by her side. There was a boarding ramp extending out to the idly floating steel vessel. As she crossed, a gust of wind nearly blew off her small ladies top hat. Awkwardly clutching at it and her bag at the same time, she looked over the side and reeled at what she saw. She was at least five hundred feet above the atrium below, with the whole of Croydon being some three thousand feet above London. Gritting her teeth, she pushed onward until the relative security of the transport’s cabin was reached.

The interior of the aethership was spacious with ample seating and a small cafe that was doing its best to look as though it had been relocated from the streets of Paris. Cordelia received a few odd looks due to the jacket-covered birdcage but paid them no heed. She was simply grateful Degory had purchased a first class ticket that offered a small drawing room which allowed a measure of privacy unheard of down on the steerage class level. Though the trip to Sherwood Isle was only a day, Cordelia would use this time to familiarize herself with the abundance of information Uncle Degory had placed into that envelope, and the drawing room would shield her from any unwanted scrutiny. In that envelope were dossiers and photographs of the crew of this ‘Kingship’ she was instructed to locate. There was also a substantial amount of money, travel documents, and oddly, her deceased grandmother’s pocket watch. The envelope also contained several photographs of the Kingship itself. She was by no means an expert on aethercraft, but this vessel truly looked to be kingly and she guessed it would not be difficult to spot, even from a distance. Additionally, there were specifications to machinery that was wholly unfamiliar to her mechanically educated mind, some of which looked to be built into the Kingship itself. She hoped she would be able to not only figure it out, but convince the captain, a Vance Williams according to the files, to build this strange machinery on his ship. Finally, there was the specialized pocket watch she had built for Degory all those months ago. The letter specified its continued, rhythmic countdown represented the return of the Temporal Accelerator along with its disturbing passenger and cargo. Cordelia took a deep breath and closed her eyes. There was so much more for her to worry about than there had been a few short days ago. Previous to Uncle’s visit, her biggest concern had been working on a research paper for the hospital. Now, according to Degory, his very rescue, possibly even the fate of the world, could be determined by her actions. Still, she thought, she had done a pretty good job thus far. She had escaped the brutish thug who was guarding her, hid out, albeit in style, at the Great Northern hotel for a few days, and finally slipped away unnoticed. She smiled; maybe a life of adventure would grow on her. She certainly was off to a commendable start and was excited to tell Degory of her adventures when she finally rescued him. And rescue him she would, no matter what fears she may have to face in the process. Feeling good about things for the first time in days, Cordelia Cady treated herself to some coffee and a croissant from the onboard cafe, and settled in for a day of study with a healthy a mix of fear, concern, and excitement for the road which lay ahead.

“I’m very sorry, sir,” explained the stuffy concierge. “But we do not have a registered guest under the name of Degory Priest.”

“Are you positive?” asked Vance. “We were supposed to meet him a few days ago but were delayed. Perhaps he has already checked out?”

The concierge looked across the desk at Vance and Afa with a disinterested annoyance as he flipped back throughout the pages of the Locksley and Marion Hotel’s register. The Kingship had arrived at the upland of Sherwood Isle two days ago and in that time had received no communication from their client, Degory Priest. As they and their vessel had been selected by name for the scientist’s work, Vance had assumed he would have been aware of the Kingship’s arrival. It had been made clear in no uncertain terms in Germany that they were to get here as quickly as possible. Vance considered himself a fairly patient man under most circumstances, but found he was a little irritated with the present situation, having burned more coal and pushed his ship faster than apparently was necessary. Afa, as always, took unexpected events in stride, reminding the captain not to judge too rashly until he had more information.

“No,” the concierge went on. “There is no mention of the name you speak for the past several weeks, sir. Will that be all?” He finished his sentence with an abrupt closing of the register, its dull thud echoing through the posh, well-to-do lobby. A few well dressed patrons lazily looked their way, and turned back to their own devices with looks of bored derision. Though Vance and especially Afa were dressed as gentlemen, their level of fashion was apparently not up to the standards of the guests or the concierge, as if they had arrived at Ascot’s opening day wearing the wrong colored waistcoat.

“Thank you,” Vance replied with a slight edge. “You’ve been ever so helpful.”

“My pleasure, sir.”

With what was obviously a thinly veiled dismissal, the concierge returned to other duties. Vance and Afa promptly left the swanky hotel and walked out into the late afternoon air that carried both the smell of the ocean and the gray threat of rain. A steam trolley chugged past, one of many that provided transportation on the upland. Vance noted there were first class, second class, and working class cars for the various types of people that lived on, had business in, or visited Sherwood Isle. The cars were clearly marked, and even if they had not been, the difference of comfort and maintenance bespoke the division of class even louder.

“Robin Hood would be so proud,” Vance decreed, observant of the irony that this upland, before the Great Calamity, was the very Sherwood forest where the British hero once robbed from the rich and gave to the poor.

Afa added, “It is odd, a land once devoted to such freedom has become so divided.”

“Class division has always existed, and probably always will,” Vance replied. “I imagine it’s more obvious here as this is easily the largest upland with such proximity to London. People first came here for a new start. Eventually, the upper class began turning it into their playground. That’s why so much trade and shipping occurs here. Sherwood Isle imports almost everything, even water at times. That drives the prices here up and keeps the poor quarter poor.”

Afa frowned, “It seems unfair.”

“That’s because it is.”

Returning to the subject at hand, Afa asked, “What would you like to do now, Fekitoa?”

Vance paused for a moment before replying, “I don’t really know. This covers all of the nicer hotels on the isle. Burd hasn’t come back yet though I’m not surprised. He was going to check out the seedier areas but those are all on the other side of Sherwood. I don’t expect him back until dark, with or without any news.”

“Do you think he will find Dr. Priest?”

“I doubt it, though of course I can’t be sure. From the information we have, this Degory seemed to be a well respected gentleman. I assumed he would have been in this area of Sherwood.”

“Do you want to keep searching, Captain?” Afa asked.

Vance rubbed his chin, “No, I don’t really see a point. I’ve put some feelers out with some contacts I have. I suppose we could stop by the constable’s office on the way back to the ship just to make sure he hasn’t been involved in a crime. Again, I doubt much will come of it.”

Afa nodded, “It’s nearly suppertime. Should we bring anything back to the ship?”

“Are you not in the mood for cooking tonight, my friend?”

“That’s not it at all,” the large Polynesian replied. “I just know you have frequented this isle many times and I am positive you know the best places to go.”

Vance laughed out loud. It was true, wherever his travels took him, Vance always looked for the unique food, drink, and activities of the area, and his crew had come to rely on the experience of his wanderlust to enrich their journeyings. “Well,” he began. “Archer Lane has some great shops and restaurants. I know of a great chocolatier and a little spot that sells wonderful fish and chips. They use Guinness in their batter.”

“Wingnut will appreciate that.”

“I’m sure she will. Until Burd returns, there is little more we can do to find Degory Priest anyway. Fish and chips for dinner and some of the best chocolate in England for dessert it is then. Good thinking, Afa!”