Empire of Unreason (24 page)

Oglethorpe frowned sharply at that last. “The Maroons? That
rabble has no pact with any of us. Just turn your back on them
once, Governor Nairne, and they’ll cut your throat for certain.”

“A risk we’ll take,” Franklin interjected, “especially if those we
thought bound allies are to defect from our agreement.”

Oglethorpe’s sharp face grew even more dour. “I do not mean to
discuss this at length before the meeting, but surely you see that
our pact was against foreign aggression and to keep power
balanced in our own nations, not to protect us from our own
rightful sovereign.”

“Tsar Peter, you mean?” Franklin said heatedly. “For that’s who
you place on the invisible throne behind James. You—”

“Enough, sir,” Oglethorpe said. “We will all have our say at the
meeting, will we not? You included?”

“He’s right, Ben,” Nairne said. “If we cannot convince you to share
a drink with us, Margrave…”

“I must decline, but thank you for the offer.”

He bowed, then turned to where his troops were erecting their
tents, back near the trees.

“Well,” Franklin observed glumly, “I wonder how many unfriendly
armies we’re going to have camped at our doorstep before the day
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is done?” So far, things had not gone as he had optimistically
planned.

The Cherokee delegation arrived that night. They had the look of
having traveled hard and fast, and they made no effort whatsoever
to spurn Carolina hospitality, but came straightaway within the
walls. Franklin, not wishing to get entangled in what could
conceivably be a long, ceremonial business, watched from a
distance as Nairne greeted them. Nairne would handle it best—

before being governor, before being Blackbeard’s aide, he had been
the Indian agent of South Carolina, and he knew the peoples of the
interior as well as any white man could. Still, Franklin, naturally
curious, could not help but observe for a moment.

There were seven of the Cherokee, men ranging in age from
perhaps sixteen to perhaps fifty. They wore motley clothing;
matchcoats of deerskin or military justaucorps, loincloths but for
two who sported faded knee breeches. They were ornamented with
earrings and gorgets, and their hair was cut orplucked in various
strange ways. They carried muskets and wicked-looking
tomahawks. One of them seemed, to Franklin, extraordinarily pale.

He guessed the fellow to be the son of a deerskin trader, not an
unusual thing in the backcountry.

He knew something of the Cherokee, of course, and had spoken
with those representatives that came to the Charles Town Assembly
and to certain more-secret meetings of the Junto. The nation was
powerful and had been a valued ally in both the Flanders War—

known as Queen Anne’s War in these parts—and the Spanish
incursion. Nairne had expressed a good deal of optimism about
their allegiance, and Franklin trusted his opinion.

He spent the rest of the day drafting the various letters he needed
to schreibe—to Louisiana, Florida, the Choctaw, the Natchez
Nation, the Chickasaw, the commanders of the various Junto
divisions, the governors of the colonies… Night crept on him, then
midnight, and he was still only a tenth done when Lenka came and
laid a hand on his shoulder.

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“Come to bed, Ben. You’ll accomplish nothing by not sleeping.”

“Not true. I’ll accomplish what I must before I sleep.”

She tapped the letter he was working on. “My English isn’t all it
could be,” she said—though after ten years her English was nearly
flawless—“but it seems to me that this last sentence makes no sense
at all.”

He blinked and read the line. She was right.

“Maybe just a nap,” he allowed.

“You need a secretary,” she said. She tilted his head back and
planted a kiss on his nose.

“Oh, well, if
that’s
the sort of secretary you mean, I’ve an idea who
might fill the job…”

She put on a look of mock surprise—though one with some small
measure of what might be real bitterness. “Is that how it is?” she
said softly. “To get you in our marriage bed, I must pretend to be
someone else, an employee?”

“Lenka—no. I’m busy, that is all. What can you expect?”

“Nothing,” she said.

“Huh.” He reached around her waist and drew her down into his
lap. She felt supple and warm through her nightdress. “I have
neglected you?”

“Yes.” Then she sighed. “It’s more than that, Benjamin. I’ve nothing
to do in this whole matter. I’m just a camp follower.”

“If that’s all there is, I’m sure there’s work enough to be found. My
back, for instance, has developed an awful, tight pain…”

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She kissed him again, this time on the lips. “This feeling of being
swept along as by a wave—I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I, my dear. Not in the least. Even less do I like doing the
paperwork for Armageddon, but there it is.” He gestured at the
letters scattered about his desk.

“Is it really so necessary to write a different letter to each faction?”

Lenka asked. “Why not some general declaration?”

“I’ve thought of it, but each must be convinced by a different logic.

The Tory governors will not be swayed by the republican
sentiments of the Junto, nor will the French king in Louisiana. The
Indian nations care not what form of government we English have,
so long as trade continues and their sovereign domains remain
secure.”

“It seems, still, that you might sum up in some general statement.

Some declaration that the nations of the Continent have no
business here in the Americas. It seems to me that would suit
everyone.”

Franklin rubbed his eyes. “That’s not a bad idea,” he allowed. “We
would leave the matter of the Pretender unstated and ambiguous—

let the Tories imagine our reference is to the Russians. It would
make Louisiana happy, as King Philippe would then have grounds
to defend himself against other claimants to the French throne. The
Indians would see it as a declaration of their own sovereign
rights…” He broke off, thinking. “It would have to be worded very
carefully.” “Aye. Something you can’t do just now. Come to bed.”

“How was it I found such a brilliant and beautiful wife?” “Well God
loves fools and Americans, I’ve heard it said,” she replied, “and
God provides.”

“Let’s see what he has provided underneath this nightgown,”

Franklin said, leering.

“This from a fellow too tired to write a sentence straight?” “I can
get other things straight enough, as you’ll see,” Franklin replied.

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“What a disgusting man you are,” Lenka said, and kissed him again.

Despite Lenka’s efforts and some pleasant physical exertion,
Franklin was able to snatch only a few moments of sleep. His brain
was too activated and agitated by Lenka’s suggestion.

Voltaire rose up from his covers when Franklin shook him, a
cadaver returning to unholy life. He sounded the part as well.

“Pray tell, Lord Satan, what you want of me at this hour of the
morning?” the Frenchman moaned.

“You’ve been asking what you can do to help. I’ve hit upon it.”

“My head is what you hit upon,” Voltaire complained. “Each word
like the forging hammer on the anvil.”

“I need your help in writing something,” Franklin said.

“What?”

“Something that needs written! A declaration that the continent of
America and all its several nations are hereby independent from
their European parents. A declaration that the meddling of Russia
or any other foreign country won’t be tolerated here.”

Voltaire rubbed his eyes. “I thought you had such a proviso. Your
mutual protection pact.”

“No. That’s too weak, too provisional—as we have clearly seen,
most are reluctant to commit to our cause. It lacks—it lacks a

philosophy,
a raison d’etre—a skeleton to hold the flesh up. It says
only that we will not war with one another; after that, it becomes
vague. It does not protect the French colonies from France, or the
English colonies from England. You see?”

“I think so.” Voltaire, despite his apparent hangover, was starting
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to look interested. “But why do you need my help?”

“I am a philosopher of science. It is what I have concentrated on.

My skills as a social philosopher are not so highly developed. And I
am not as eloquent as you.”

“Whatever eloquence I have is at your command,” Voltaire said,
starting to look a bit more alert. “I fear it will not be enough. Still,
it’s an exciting idea. And if you’ve no one better…”

“I doubt that I do.”

“Very well. I will jot down some ideas and speak of them to you.

How soon will you need it?”

“As soon as possible, I should think.”

“Not before this meeting with the margrave and the Indians?”

Franklin rubbed his jaw. “If possible—something. If there is to be
grand meeting of all the native powers of the colonies, it will be no
time soon. Despite prompting, I’ve heard nothing still from
Louisiana, Florida, or the Coweta. The margrave, on the other
hand, is here—our most immediate threat and ally. We will
convince him soon or fight him soon.”

Voltaire nodded. “I see. ”Alacrity‘ will be my watchword, then.“

“It should be one,” said Ben, “but let ‘liberty’ be another.”

Thomas Nairne was already up, too, shuffling through
communications from the aetherschreiber. He glanced a bit
feverishly at Ben.

“Can you build more of those opticon things?” he asked.

“With the right supplies and tools, yes, of course. I don’t have those
things here yet.”

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“But you could build it quickly?”

“Certainly. It was no huge task the first time.”

“It would be a great help. Those in the other colonies seem to have
worked, judging by what we’ve heard.”

“Yes. What use did you have in mind for them?”

“I wish each of our field commanders to have one.

Communications would be faster.”

“They are too large to be practical,” Franklin said, “though I might
be able to make one that carried only the voice, which would be
more manageable.”

“With what you have here?”

“No.”

“How is it you didn’t invent these things earlier?”

“I didn’t see the need. Aetherschreibers are quite fast enough.”

“For war, the faster the better.”

Franklin nodded understanding. “I know little of strategy and
tactics. Design a straightforward weapon, yes, that I can do—”

“And have done admirably well at.”

“Thank you, though I find nothing especially admirable about
things made to kill. And supply trains were explained to me, so we
have portable manna machines. But as to communications—”

“That’s most vital of all, and last thought of,” Nairne replied. “But it
never occurred to me that the aetherschreiber could be made to
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carry voice and image. If it had, I would have urged you to make
many of them long ago.”

“What brings this up?”

“Van Duyn. He’s fighting on the run. He scarcely finds time to
scribble even a quick note to me, and rarely gets any of mine. I have
to send four, five letters to get a single response.”

“How are they doing?”

“They’ve been harrying a force of some five hundred or so.

Five hundred human men, that is. Besides that, they have at least
twenty of the automatons and a flying boat for their resupply.“

“Ah-hah. So they do have airships with them—but they keep them
away from the battle. That means that even if they haven’t managed
to build a smaller manna machine, as we have, they can still carry
an unlimited food supply with them.”

“Yes, a problem for us. It means they can move quickly into the
backcountry.” He clasped his hands together. “What do you need,
Ben, if you’re to keep us supplied with scientifical weapons?”

“Lots of things. Some are cached here, in various places. Others—

well, we have to have allies in one of the big towns and a clear route
to them.”

“That, in your opinion, is our first priority? A friendly city and
right-of-way to it?”

“Yes.”

“Very well, Benjamin. This is what I think you ought to do. You’ve
already admitted that you’ve no skill in military things, and you’ve
said I should take up that burden. Here’s the one I think you ought
to take up—now, whilst we don’t need you to run the fancy guns and
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