The Martian Ambassador (23 page)

Sophia had finally stopped shaking, although the memory of that dreadful journey from Leason’s Wood to the room in which she now sat tormented her still. Her screams echoed in her memory, a raucous, tuneless song of terror and despair, and she hated herself for having uttered them. She hated herself for having been hauled away like a sack of vegetables, like an
object
, with no consciousness or volition of its own, utterly powerless, utterly
weak
.

Was this how her father had felt on that night all those years ago, in that wild and lonely place, in the depths of that disastrous winter? When the unknown and indescribable thing which some called the Wendigo had descended from the pitiless sky and snatched him away, had he felt that same self-hatred glowing balefully in the dark miasma of his horror? The unbearable supposition was that it depended on what the Wendigo had done to him. Had his death followed swiftly? Had it been lingering? Had it occurred at all?

These questions chased each other through Sophia’s mind as she sat in the opulently furnished room, looking at herself in the elegantly-framed oval mirror which stood atop the dressing table. And as she gazed at her reflection, the tears came again, and now they were not for herself, but for her father, and they were not really new tears, but old ones – as old as the Canadian forest in which he had met his fate.

She had thought she was going to die: that Indrid Cold would take her to some secluded spot in Leason’s Wood and carve her to ribbons at his leisure. But he had not. With unearthly agility he had swept through the trees, clutching her tightly and painfully with his left arm, and she recalled little beyond the flash of branches, the blur of tree trunks, the occasional glimpse of cold, grey sky… and then they were out of the wood and hurtling across the countryside, the captive helpless, the captor tireless and implacable. She had screamed until her throat was raw and finally succumbed to her terror and exhaustion. She had lost consciousness…

And had awoken here, in this large and beautifully-appointed bedroom, with a man whom she immediately recognised as Lord Pannick looking down at her, smiling.

‘Rest, my dear Lady Sophia,’ he had said, ‘for you have had a frightful experience.’

‘And you are responsible, sir!’ she had cried, her eyes darting about the room, looking for the monster who had seized her.

Lord Pannick’s smile grew broader. ‘Do not be concerned. Mr Cold is not with us: he is seeing to matters elsewhere on the estate.’

Struggling to gather her wits, Sophia sat up in the vast four-poster bed and said, ‘Then we are at Furfield?’

‘Indeed we are. Welcome to my home.’

‘Why have you brought me here?’

‘I will explain later, but for now, take some time to recover. I normally dine at eight, and I would be honoured if you would join me.’

Sophia had the distinct impression that this was rather more than a mere invitation. ‘It would appear that I have little choice, your Lordship.’

‘That much, I am bound to say, is true,’ he replied, and his smile broadened yet further into a feral grin, which unsettled Sophia so much that she was forced to look away.

Lord Pannick indicated a beautiful silk evening gown, which had been laid upon the bed beside Sophia. ‘I took the liberty of ordering this for you. I do hope you find it to your taste.’

‘I prefer my present apparel, thank you, Lord Pannick,’ Sophia muttered, giving the gown a cursory glance.

‘That may be, but I’m sure you will agree that it is a little too utilitarian for evening wear. Please… indulge me.’ And with that, he had turned on his heel and left the room, saying over his shoulder, ‘My man will come for you at eight and will escort you to the dining room.’

Sophia heard the sound of a key being turned and smiled in spite of the grimness of her predicament. She waited a full five minutes and then reached into the pocket of her coat for her purse. Taking out her lock pick, she bent down and inserted it into the lock of the bedroom door, her intention being to do a little exploring of Furfield and to gather as much information for Blackwood as she could before making her escape.

But her plan immediately came to nought, for at the instant she inserted the instrument, a spark of livid blue light shot out from the lock, throwing her backwards onto the floor. She cried out in pain and rubbed her throbbing hand. It seemed that Lord Pannick’s reputation as an experienced investigator of the occult sciences was well-founded indeed, for he appeared to have sealed the bedroom door through some arcane, supernatural means.

Sophia sighed, glanced again at the evening gown, and decided that, for the time being at least, she would be forced to play this game according to Lord Pannick’s rules.

*

She was still sitting at the dressing table, looking into the mirror and struggling with thoughts of a horrible past and an awful present, when she heard the faint click of the bedroom door being unlocked. A moment later, there was a discreet knock.

‘Enter,’ she said.

The door opened to reveal a tall, cadaverous-looking man in immaculate butler’s livery. ‘Dinner is about to be served, your Ladyship,’ he said. ‘If you will kindly follow me?’

She followed Lord Pannick’s man along a series of corridors, down the house’s main staircase and along the grand gallery past portraits of severe-looking ancestors, before finally arriving at the dining room.

Pannick was already seated at the head of the long table; he stood up when he saw Sophia enter. ‘Good evening, my dear,’ he said with a bow.

Sophia demurred from answering as she was led to her seat at the other end of the table.

‘May I say,’ said Pannick as he retook his own seat, ‘how very charming you look.’

‘Considering it was you who chose this gown, sir,’ she replied frostily, ‘you flatter yourself, not me.’

Pannick gave a satisfied chuckle, and Sophia regarded him across the oak landscape of the dining table. Although he was in his late fifties, Lord Pannick looked much younger: his skin had the smoothness and rosy sheen of youth, and his limpid blue-grey eyes shone like those of a man in his twenties. He was not slim, but his paunch and the plumpness of his face were more redolent of the healthy chubbiness of the infant than the middle-aged man gone to seed. He wore his hair fairly long, and its luxuriant brown curls added the final touch to his cherubic appearance.

As his man poured claret for Sophia, he said, ‘I do hope you find this evening’s repast to your liking… I also hope that it will be the first of many.’

‘You may hope what you like,’ Sophia replied, ignoring her wineglass. ‘For my part, I hope you realise the mistake you have made in committing this outrage.’

Pannick took up his own glass and sniffed the wine contemplatively, then took a sip. ‘My dear Lady Sophia, it would only be a mistake if I were to allow you to leave before the present business is concluded. Her Majesty’s Bureau of Clandestine Affairs still do not know that Ambassador R’ondd’s death was my doing – although it is surely only a matter of time before Thomas Blackwood’s bumbling investigations lead him to my door. That’s why it is useful to me that you remain here as my guest for a while.’

‘I am a hostage,’ said Sophia, a strong hint of distaste in her voice.

‘If you wish to put it so, yes. I have already sent a communication to the Bureau, suggesting that they curtail their investigations forthwith… on pain of your demise.’

Sophia suppressed a shudder at these words, for she had little doubt that Pannick would make good on his threat if necessary.

Their conversation was momentarily interrupted by the arrival of the first course, a smoked salmon mousse. It looked delicious, and Sophia was reminded of the fact that she had not eaten since breakfast. There was little to be gained from the petulant act of starving herself, so she began to eat. The mousse tasted as delightful as it looked. ‘My compliments to your cook,’ she said.

Lord Pannick beamed at her.

‘Tell me, your Lordship, how did you do it?’

‘Do what, my dear?’

‘How did you arrange for the
Acarus
mites to be placed inside Lunan R’ondd’s breathing apparatus? It couldn’t have been easy, considering that security is so tight at the Martian Embassy.’

‘On the contrary, it was quite simple,’ Pannick replied, his mouth full. ‘I enlisted supernatural aid: the same kobold who sabotaged Mr Blackwood’s cogitator infiltrated the Embassy and the rest, as they say, is history.’

Sophia was sorely tempted to inform Pannick that the kobold was dead, but she decided that it was better to offer him as little information as possible. Instead, she said, ‘Why are you doing this? Why murder R’ondd? Why the attacks in London and Hampshire? Why the destruction of the interplanetary cylinder?’

Pannick gave her a quizzical look. ‘Do you mean to say that you don’t know?’

‘Mr Blackwood is a fine man, but he is having great trouble making headway: you yourself have seen to that, sir.’

‘Thank you, my dear.’

‘That was not a compliment.’

‘Nevertheless, I take it as such.’

‘Then will you repay it by telling me the reason for all this death and mayhem?’

Lord Pannick took another thoughtful sip of his wine, regarding Sophia over the rim of his glass as he did so.

Come, your Lordship
, she thought.
Surely your arrogance will not fail now. I am your captive, after all.

As if he had read her thoughts, Pannick put down his glass, sat back in his chair and smiled broadly at her. ‘I am going to start a little war,’ he said.

‘A war?’

‘Earth’s first interplanetary conflict… and its last.’

Sophia gasped – convincingly, she hoped. ‘War with Mars? For what purpose?’

‘To make way for a successful invasion of both worlds by the planet Venus.’

‘You… you make fun of me!’ Sophia stammered.

‘I would not dream of it, I assure you.’

‘But… there is no life on Venus – the climate is too hot to sustain it.’

‘Ah! I see that astronomy is one of your many talents. It is true that Venus is an unbearably hot, dying world… but there
is
life there, intelligent life. In fact, you have already met a Venusian.’

Sophia carefully controlled the dawning of realisation upon her face. Her fork fell to her plate with a loud clatter as she exclaimed, ‘The fiend who abducted me!’

‘The very same. His name is Indrid Cold. He and I have been working to create a climate of fear and mistrust between Earth and Mars… and war will be the inevitable result of our efforts.’

Sophia shook her head in dismay. ‘In God’s name,
why?
’

‘Isn’t it obvious? Venus is dying; her people need to vacate their world or face extinction. The Earth is the obvious choice for their relocation, but such is the morality of the Martians that they would never allow such an invasion to occur: they would quickly step in to prevent it. The solution is equally obvious: Mars must be eliminated as a threat to Venusian expansion; however, Mars is too powerful to go against directly. A war between Mars and the Earth will serve a twofold purpose: it will destroy the Earth’s ability to defend itself, and it will also weaken Mars to the extent that it will be unable to resist a further invasion.
Both
worlds will fall to Venus.’

Sophia had been trying to mask her knowledge of Lord Pannick’s involvement with Indrid Cold, but now she was genuinely shocked. While she had suspected that interplanetary conflict was the goal of these villains, she was stunned anew by the sheer audacity of their plan. To ignite a war between the worlds of Earth and Mars, to prepare both for an invasion from Venus… it was outrageous, utterly revolting.

At that moment, Sophia realised that it was more important than ever to escape from Lord Pannick’s clutches as soon as possible and bring this dire news to Blackwood and the Bureau.

Their plates were cleared away, and the main course arrived: a roast haunch of venison. In spite of the delicious aroma that filled the dining room, Sophia found that her appetite had completely deserted her. She watched dumbly as the medium-rare slices were placed delicately upon her plate. Lord Pannick fell upon his with relish.

Sophia gave him a disgusted look, and said, ‘So you would betray your world, your species… and for what? What will you do when the Earth falls under the dominion of Venus? Do you think you will be rewarded?’

‘Oh yes,’ Pannick replied. ‘I will be rewarded most handsomely, I assure you.’

Sophia shook her head. ‘Can you really be so foolish?’

Pannick laughed. ‘I assure you I am nothing of the kind, my dear. When the Venusians arrive, they will require help in acclimatising themselves to their new home: they will need to learn of its geography, the distribution of its cities, the locations of its natural resources, the psychology of its people…’

‘And you will be the one to help them.’

‘Of course.’