Brotherhood of the Strange (Kingship, Tales from the Aether Book 1) (14 page)

Vance wiped his hands on his napkin and crumpled up the greasy newsprint that had held his order of Guinness battered fish and chips. Always a slow eater, Afa, Winston, and Wingnut had already finished theirs, and had begun to dip into the ample supply of delicious assorted chocolates they had picked up en route back to the Kingship. They sat at the table in the spacious common room under the warm glow of the vessel’s electric lights to counter the dark gray rainclouds that had constantly threatened, but never delivered a torrential downpour. The prediction that Wingnut would appreciate the Irish styled fish had been an understatement, and the small girl had consumed a substantial amount, her portions surpassing even those of the monolithic Afa. While the traditional tarter sauce had been sufficient for everyone else, the large Polynesian had used a pepper sauce of his own creation so hot and spicy, even the smell of it made Vance’s eyes water if he got too close or inhaled too deeply. Burd had often sardonically suggested to Wingnut she could use it as an engine degreaser, a joke that had just been recapped in his absence.

“What’s takin’ that boy so long?” Winston mused as he reached for yet another chocolate. “I canna guarantee they’ll be any dessert left for the lad.”

Vance smiled, “Yeah, I told Afa earlier I didn’t expect to see him till after dark, though I held out hope. Fish and chips doesn’t always reheat well.”

“I’m certain I can heat it to Cornelius’s liking when he returns,” Afa promised.

“And his will probably taste all the better for it, my friend.”

“Or we could mix some o’ that blazin’ hell juice with his tarter sauce,” Wingnut suggested. “That might be fun to watch for a bit. It’s not like we’re doin’ much else except wastin’ our bloody time parked here on this rock!”

“The past few days have not been unproductive, Wingnut,” Afa calmly stated. “We have all been able to catch up on some things.”

Despite his own frustrations, Vance agreed with Afa. His crew were not the kind of people to let the grass grow beneath their feet. Degory Priest’s mysterious failure to meet them at the appointed time and location had given the crew ample time to see to other tasks. Wingnut had been able to do a full cleaning of one of the boilers. Surprisingly, Afa had offered his assistance. It seemed he was making a conscious effort to deal with his claustrophobia. They had offloaded the shipment of curry powder to a high end restaurant supply vendor, bound for London, and Winston had polished every bit of brass on the bridge. After, he went to meet some old friends over at a tavern known as the Cloven Barrel where he bought several rounds and reminisced about days gone by. No one there had heard about Degory Priest, either. Though the time spent was well worth it, Vance had received his five hundred pounds for transporting the scientific equipment and parts here, and that cargo still remained in his hold. He didn’t like being responsible for someone else’s property any longer than he had to, especially property as expensive and important as this clearly was to Dr. Priest, wherever he was. He realized his crew was looking to him, if not for answers, at least a plan.

“Afa’s right,” Vance began. “We got paid well so far for this trip. I’m not thrilled about the circumstances either. When Burd gets back, we can decide what to do then. Who knows, he may have found out something useful.”

“How long ya plannin’ on keepin’ us here though, Cap’n?” Wingnut asked. “It’s not exactly cheap to stay moored here day after day. King’s Port is the most expensive spot to dock an aethership in Sherwood, don’t ya know? Not to mention we need to burn coal just to keep the bloody lights on!”

Winston chimed in, “She’s right, lad. We vacation here long enough, and we’ll all be in the poor house, mark my words!”

“Well, we could always leave now and forget about Burd. More fish and chips for us that way,” Vance smiled. It was not as if any of them really had to worry about money. Winston and Wingnut liked to bluster more than anything, but they were clearly frustrated with the situation as well. He stroked his chin for a few seconds before replying, “Like I said, let’s see what Burd has learned. If we need to, I can wire Heinrich tomorrow and see if he can go down to the warehouse and talk to Mr. Fassbinder for us. This may be nothing more than a simple delay. Scientists can be somewhat flighty sometimes, in my experience.”

“It seems like a wise course of action, Fekitoa,” Afa offered. The other two nodded and stood up from the table as Wingnut placed the remaining dinner into one of the large refrigerators in the galley. Vance left the common room and walked down the main corridor, intent on retiring to the library until Burd’s return. While simple delay might well be the reason for Degory Priest’s absence, a lifetime of experience told him something much more nefarious could just as easily be the underlying cause. He hoped he was wrong.

The steam trolley ride across Sherwood had passed quickly. Cordelia opened a window when they boarded, correctly assuming the fresh moving air would help with her mild headache. The smell of the sea was less prominent here amongst the dark, ancient trees, now that they had made their way out of the Worker's Quarter. The trolley was cutting through Sherwood Forest proper, its wheels sounding with the characteristic click of the rails. The small framed gentleman seated across from them had exchanged no more than a few pleasantries before disappearing behind a newspaper. Once they had gotten underway, she had excused herself to see to Mr. Corbin’s worker’s injured hand back in the working class compartments. These, she had noted, offered a considerably less comfortable ride than she, as a lady, was accustomed to. As she examined the man’s hand, she had come to learn his name was Mathias, Cordelia found two small fractures. After applying some ointment for the pain she rewrapped his hand, much more professionally than he previously had done. Leaving him with instructions, the young doctor returned to her first class car where she passed the time cordially with her escort. Mr. Corbin proved to be a thoroughly engaging conversationalist who listened with the calm patience of a fatherly figure as she recounted her many adventures over the past week. She had revealed perhaps a little more to him than Uncle Degory would have felt prudent, but it had felt so good to be able to confide in someone not involved in her quest in any way.

“That is quite the adventure you’ve had there, Ms. Cady,” Mr. Corbin said, finally. “And I must say, you are none the worse for wear after all of this excitement.”

Cordelia laughed, “I must disagree Mr. Corbin.”

“I have already told you, Ms. Cady, call me John.”

“If you insist, John, but only if you stop referring to me as Ms. Cady.”

“Agreed,” he said with a smile.

“As I was saying,” she continued, “I must look atrocious. I’m not at all suited to flying, it seems, and my hair is an absolute disaster.” With that statement she flipped back an errant lock of hair which had come loose in the constant breeze of the open window. Mr. Corbin generously held her diminutive, ladies top hat for her while she attempted to fix it.

“What is so important about this Kingship?” he asked.

Cordelia spoke with a fair number of hair pins in her teeth, “I’m not entirely sure. My uncle wants to run some experiments and seems to think the Kingship is the perfect vessel to do them upon.”

“I see.”

Though she had been somewhat liberal in filling John Corbin in on the events of the last few days, Cordelia knew better than to speak of the Temporal Accelerator, Hand of Paris, or Uncle Degory’s abduction at her father’s bidding. Such things were not only too important to divulge, they were so incredulous she feared the older gentleman would not believe her anyway.

Cordelia finished with her hair and was about to take back her hat when she noticed Mr. Corbin tapping away on a small wireless Morse transmitter and receiver. “Just business,” he stated. “It seems like I’m forever working.”

“Don’t mention it,” she replied. “My entire family is the same way.” That statement pulled her thoughts in a melancholy direction and she forgot entirely about her hat as Mr. Corbin continued to tap away on his device.

The remainder of the journey continued without incident through the forest. As they passed into the more affluent sections of the isle, Cordelia saw beautiful estates, quaint villages, and even the Major Oak, a large tree that was reputed to be the gathering spot of Robin Hood and his Merry Men. Shortly thereafter, the forest gave way to a small, very well-to-do city, rife with luxurious hotels, restaurants, sporting, and historical attractions for the upper class.

“King’s Port is the next stop,” Mr. Corbin stated, echoing the words of a porter a few minutes ago. “Todd and Mathias will see to your belongings and meet us on the street.”

“Thank you,” replied Cordelia. “I do hope Mathias will be careful with his injured hand.”

“I’m sure with the touch of your healer’s skill, he is already on the mend.”

“You’re too kind,” she replied.

As the trolley came to a stop, the various passengers readied themselves to depart. All except for the man seated across from Cordelia, who had apparently fallen asleep beneath his newspaper. Giving him a light tap on the shoulder she politely and quietly roused him.

“Many thanks, my lady,” said the man, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “I wish I could be roused by such a beautiful lady every time I fall asleep on the trolley.”

He said this with such an air of familiarity and confidence that, were it not for his boyish features and disarming smile, she might otherwise have taken a slight offense. He kindly allowed her and Mr. Corbin to proceed ahead of him, and she left the trolley without giving him a second thought.

It was a short walk from the trolley station to King's Port. Even walking in this new place with people she had just barely met, Cordelia felt far more at ease. The streets were less crowded, and filled with well dressed, well mannered people. It was past suppertime and there were many dressed already in evening ware, apparently on their way to the theater. Cordelia realized if she ever acclimated to the altitude, she might find Sherwood Isle an enjoyable spot to go on holiday, once this ghastly business with her father and uncle was taken care of. As she and her three escorts rounded a corner, Cordelia saw King's Port. Similarly laid out to where she had first disembarked on the opposite side of the isle, this dock was located at the very edge of the upland as well. Dozens of vessels, mostly aetherships, and a few airships as well, were moored along its complicated series of gangways and boarding ramps. This, however is where the similarity ended. While the Worker's Quarter dock was laden with cargo vessels, mining ships, and the like, the air vessels here were yachts for the well-to-do, whose only cargo were the owners themselves along with their personal entourages. While the difference in beauty and design between the vessels here and those in Worker's Quarter were obvious, they did not compare with what Cordelia instantly recognized as the Kingship. The sepia toned, slightly blurry photographs Uncle Degory had provided did little justice to the unspoiled ship that floated idly, tethered only by mooring ropes and the attached gangway. As luck or fate would have it, the setting sun finally undercut the bank of clouds that had remained unbroken all of the day, illuminating the air with an orange haze and glistening off of the feathered, bronze wings, and lion rampant heads. Every detail shone in that gleam of fading light, and Cordelia had an uncharacteristic insight at that moment. She didn’t know how, but the young doctor knew this opulently designed vessel of days past was about to become a key part of her future.

“That’s the ship I’m looking for, Mr. Corbin,” she said, walking towards it in surprise and awe.

“Wow!” he replied, walking in stride with her. He looked it over from stem to stern. “She sure is a beautiful ship.”

“Now I wonder where I can find Captain Williams or at least one of his crew. I do fear I may have kept them waiting.”

“I imagine they are probably inside this time of the evening,” John Corbin murmured, almost more to himself than to Cordelia, she felt. His face had lost the warmth and calmness he had worn since he had approached her. It seemed to be replaced with consternation, as if he was a man suddenly unsure of his next action.

This sudden change in demeanor concerned her. “Mr. Corbin. John. Is something amiss?”

He turned to her with a slightly apologetic smile. “My dear Ms. Cady. I’m sorry things must be as they are. It’s nothing personal, mind you. Simply business.” With a motion from his hand, Todd and Mathias dropped her luggage they were laboriously carrying. Oscar’s cage fell on its side, much to the screeching complaints of the owl therein. The uninjured one, Todd, seized Cordelia from behind, clamping his hand over her mouth. Confused and frightened, she was all but powerless against her much larger captor, and her fitful struggles garnered no results. Though they were in a public place, there were few people down by the docks at that particular moment. She did notice out of the corner of her eye four other burly working class men. Surely they would see her predicament and intervene. To her chagrin they approached John Corbin and conversed briefly with him, asking what he wanted them to do. How could she be so blind and stupid? This polished, urbane gentleman had been exactly the kind of person Uncle Degory had often warned her about, and she had been too naïve to see it. She could only watch helplessly as the hired muscle took up positions at the foot of the gangway as John Corbin ascended, and knocked loudly on the port door of the Kingship. Anybody who opened the door would see her predicament. She assumed she was about to be used as a hostage, the terror of that fact doubled her certainty that she was completely an utterly on her own. After all, these people on board the Kingship were strangers, and had no reason to render her aid. How much would they be willing to risk for a complete stranger? Even if they wished to rescue the damsel in distress she’d so foolishly become, would they even be a match for the number of burly men that had seemed to appear out of the woodwork?

Before she could think further on the subject, she heard a loud, sickening thunk. Todd stiffened, then quickly went slack, before falling to the ground. His heavy, unconscious body almost dragging her down with him. Standing between her and the now unconscious thug was the boyish man who sat across from her on the trolley. In one hand he held a small pistol. In the other was a much larger gun he was holding by the barrel, apparently having used it to pistol whip Todd into insensibility. Her rescuer quickly flipped it around to hold the weapon correctly. Both pistols were trained on the thugs of John Corbin, all who appeared unsure how to react to this latest development.

“You okay, Ms. Cady?” the man asked, his eyes locked, not on her but upon those whom his pistols were trained.

Cordelia stared wide-eyed at him. “Who are you?” she stammered, finally finding her voice amid the chaos of emotions that ran through her mind.

“Name’s Cornelius, my dear. Most folks just call me Burd.” He trained the larger weapon on Mr. Corbin. “I say, old chap, would you be so kind as to step away from that door?”

The man complied, looking at Burd. “There’s a lot more of us than you, sir.”

“True,” Cornelius replied. “But then again, I’m aiming at you first.”

The hatch of the Kingship was opened up by an old but well built man with a white beard. He was wearing a flight jacket and a bright red and green plaid kilt. It was an outfit so mismatched, that despite the grave situation, Cordelia almost smirked. After a quick glance at the scene before him, the man hit some sort of alarm which echoed inside the ship; two quick blasts, followed by two more. A few seconds later, he emerged again brandishing a large firearm. Cordelia wasn’t sure what type, weapons were not exactly in the standard curriculum of the Oxford educated girl. The bearded man trained his gun on Mr. Corbin as well, who stood but feet from him.

“What in the blue blazes have ye gotten yerself into this time, lad?” the kilted man exclaimed in a rolling Scottish brogue, eyeing Burd.

“Not sure there, Winston!” Burd shouted back. “But I think it’s safe to say we can stop looking for Degory Priest.”

The kilted man Burd addressed as Winston was joined by another man holding a rifle. Above them on the open deck of the vessel, a huge Polynesian man approached and stood up against the rail. Though he carried no weapon, the man’s sheer size and calm demeanor showed he was not one who was easily riled by situations as this.

“I want an explanation,” said the man holding the rifle. He too seemed calm enough, though his eyes darted from Mr. Corbin to the five conscious hired thugs. He seemed to be sizing up what was obviously an unexpected situation.

“I don’t feel I owe you any form of explanation, sir,” replied Mr. Corbin, tipping his hat mockingly, and backing down the gangway.

Burd interjected, his weapons still trained on his opponents, “This is Ms. Cordelia Cady, Captain. From what I’ve been able to gather, she’s Dr. Priest’s niece. These men seemed intent on doing her some harm.”

“No more than would have been necessary,” Mr. Corbin replied. He had retreated to the relative safety of his hired help who seemed utterly confused as to what to do. “I just needed to know what she was up to.” He looked over the Kingship once more. “Now I know.”

“Yes, now you know,” the man addressed as Captain said. “I advise you all to clear out of here quickly, and take your friend with you.”

With a calm wave of his hand Mathias and the other four collected Todd and began to melt back into the shadows, his head bouncing on the cobblestones.

Mr. Corbin pulled a small ladies top hat out of his large coat pocket. Cordelia’s hand went instantly to her hair as she realized she had never gotten it back. He held it up to his nose and breathed deeply. Even from a distance, Cordelia felt her stomach turn with the indignance of the disturbing gesture. Looking at it in his gloved hand, he smiled and said, “It’s okay, we can always find you again.” He then turned abruptly on his heel and marched purposefully up the cobblestoned street towards the more populated areas.

“Okay, is it just me, or was that guy really creepy?” said the small man who had introduced himself as Burd.

Cordelia could barely see her rescuer, or the vessel behind him, through the tears of frustration which came readily now that the immediate danger had passed. The events of the week and, most particularly, just now had finally caught up to the sheltered young doctor. She had found the Kingship, though not nearly in the manner she had envisioned. Being the first step in rescuing Uncle Degory, she knew she should feel a sense of elation. However, she did not. Any feelings of victory were eclipsed by waves of nausea and dizziness. Her headache had returned, and her otherwise steady hands began to tremble. The last thing Cordelia Cady remembered seeing before passing out was a small, raven haired woman taking her by the elbow for support and loudly berating the others with a thick, almost incomprehensible Irish accent, to not forget her luggage.