Brotherhood of the Strange (Kingship, Tales from the Aether Book 1) (6 page)

“Finding you?”

“Yes, the Kingship is no ordinary cargo ship. It has history. Follow the instructions in the letter to a ‘t’ and you will be able to rescue me. Please Cordelia, the future of our very civilization could be riding on our actions.”

The young woman gazed at the envelope, “I will do the best I can, Uncle,” she replied with a quivering voice.

“I know you will. Now let’s see if your adjustments to my arm will allow me to brew you a cup of Earl Grey.”

She smiled and was about to reply but was interrupted by the jarring ring of a doorbell. Degory froze. “Were you expecting anyone else this evening?”

“No,” she answered, the conversation of the past few minutes made her as equally on edge as Degory. She returned to the window and let out a gasp. Below, parked on the cobblestone street were two black steam carriages, wisps of smoke rising from the now idle stacks. At her front door, dressed in black evening wear stood her father, Edward.

“Uncle, it’s my father!” she whispered loudly.

Degory’s reply was immediate, “Back away from the window!”

She did as Degory stated, still clutching the envelope. “What should I do?”

“Did you tell him I was coming by tonight?”

“Of course not. You know as well as I do we barely speak as of late.”

“That’s what I feared,” came the reply. “I believe he is here to ask you of my whereabouts. This you must not reveal. Now go and let him in, there are too many lights on for him to assume you are not at home.”

The front bell rang again, followed by the echo of knocking coming up the two flights of stairs.

Cordelia turned to allow her father entrance. As Degory retired to the adjoining music room it occurred to him the envelope was still in her fist. “Cordelia! The envelope!”

White faced, she placed it in an indigo ceramic vase, an import from Japan, and continued down the stairs.

Degory closed the two large oak doors behind him and listened intently. This room’s windows would allow him a good view of the street below but he dared not approach them, not knowing if anyone had accompanied Edward. The room where he concealed himself was beautifully decorated, though with a bit too much of a lady’s touch for Degory’s liking. A parlor grand piano took up most of the room, and the walls were lined with shelves of clockwork birds. The strange brass menagerie struck a stark contrast to the frilly Edwardian furniture. Degory peered through the crack between the two doors. There, in the center of the room beside the couch, rested his walking stick.

“Blast it!” he whispered coarsely under his breath. Faintly he heard the front door open and the muted voices of Cordelia and Edward exchanging greetings. Opening the door as silently as he could Degory hastily tiptoed his way across the drawing room to retrieve his stick. It would have been a dead giveaway and conclusively implicate his niece. Degory knew this was no social visit, he was sure he was wanted by the Hand of Paris. His disheartening tale to Cordelia had not revealed even half of the reasoning behind his fears. He also knew his brother had sold them too much of his soul to do anything but zealously obey his new masters.

He heard footsteps coming up the stairs. His attempts to combine haste with stealth proved successful as he reached the music room and closed the door behind him, stick in hand just as Edward and Cordelia entered.

“I’m sorry Father,” she said as flatly as she could. “I have not seen Uncle for some days now. Is everything alright?”

Degory was nervous. Cordelia was not much of a liar. She was cool headed when she could bring her skills to bear, but situations like this were alien to her. There was, however, enough bad blood between father and daughter that Edward might mistake her apparent uncomfortableness as that.

“Are you sure?” Edward asked. “I know my brother’s arm is often in need of calibration. Surely you must have had an appointment set up to meet recently.”

“We did,” she lied, “but he cancelled it abruptly.”

“I see,” he said, clearly unsure whether to believe her or not.

Cordelia, more out of propriety and a need to stay active, poured her father a drink from a crystal decanter. She handed it to him, a full three fingers worth of liquor in the glass, more than was customary to offer a guest.

Edward took the drink and sipped at it. He then gave a cold smile. “Edradour,” he said. “One of the finest single malts in Scotland. I see you keep my brother’s favorite whiskey on hand.”

Cordelia’s eyes narrowed, “It is polite to retain a reserve of favored spirits for guests who frequent themselves.”

“I see,” Edward said flatly. He placed the glass down on the table. “Would you happen to have any Glenfiddich? I find the flavor more to my liking.”

“My apologies, but as I said, I only keep spirits on hand for those who actually grace my doorstep with any frequency.”

Peeking through the double doors Degory could clearly see his brother stiffen at his daughter’s jab. He wished she would be a little more cautious in her dealings with him. He was far more dangerous than she realized. He could not condemn her though. The dismal failure of both husband and father that was his brother gave the demure and ladylike Cordelia an edge brought out only on the rare occasions of Edward’s visits.

“You really have no idea the stresses I’m under do you?” Edward asked. “I work for important people, with important tasks. Tasks that require someone of my intellect and skill to perform.”

“Oh, is that a fact?” The mocking edge she put to her voice concerned Degory and seemed to anger Edward.

“You silly, spoiled girl,” he began. “There are things in motion that are far bigger than you or I. The world is changing, and my work will help facilitate that change. Imagine, my daughter, a world where we no longer need to send soldiers to the battlefield to perish needlessly. A world that will soon be visited by those with the power to force a peace upon this ravished globe. I would wish it otherwise, but if tainting the relationship I have with you and your mother is the sacrifice I needed to make, then I would do it a thousand times over to sit at the right hand of this world’s rightful rulers and ensure peace. My fool of a brother lacks the vision and the commitment to be worthy of the Brotherhood of the Strange. He is weak.” These last words were spat with such venom that Cordelia took a step away from her father. Quickly she composed herself, an innate need to stand up to him.

“Weak!” she exclaimed. While Degory admired his niece’s loyalty, he feared she might make her position worse with Edward. “You call a man who fought to the last protecting the leader of the Strangers, losing his arm in the process, weak?”

Edward shot back, “His loyalty is far more in question than you think. I need to find him, with haste.” Then he added, “For his protection.”

“Protection from whom?”

“There are those who believe your dear uncle has betrayed the Brotherhood. They would like him to answer a few questions. They can be quite, shall we say, insistent when they ask. If he comes with me, it would go a great deal better for him. He can still prove his usefulness in my work. That’s why I’m here. I can also provide him a measure of protection, I have enough clout to ensure that at least.”

“You just need him to find the Temporal Accelerator to get your precious Maxfield back!” Degory winced, no one who was not a Stranger was supposed to know that. The look on her face told him she knew she had just said too much.

“I see my dear brother has been telling tales out of school, as it were,” Edward said, now with a deathly calm.

Cordelia stood up tall, smoothing her dress, “I do not know where he is.”

In a flash he grabbed her shoulders with both hands and gave her a shake, “Where is he?” he shouted, a blend of fear and anger on his haggard face.

Breaking free she responded, tears in her eyes, “Get out! Mother demanded you vacate these premises as I do now. You were not a gentleman enough for her then and certainly have not improved with time. Now leave!”

It came so fast even Degory didn’t anticipate it. Edward, for the first time, and Degory resolved last, struck his daughter. The blow staggered her, the high heels of her shoes and length of her dress adding to her instability. Before Edward could strike again, Degory burst in from the music room sword in hand, unsheathed from the scabbard of the walking stick.

“Stand down, Brother!” Degory exclaimed, leveling the point of his narrow sword in Edward’s direction.

Without delay, Edward shifted his focus from his daughter to his estranged sibling. He dashed to the entrance of the room where he had left his walking stick, nearly identical to Degory’s and drew his own blade. Cordelia stepped back, behind the sofa, a mixture of fear, confusion, and rage vying for dominance on her reddened face. The two Priests circled each other, Edward taking up a defensive position near a window. He glanced outside for a brief second. Degory shifted the sword from his mechanical right hand to his left. A lifetime of fencing had imbued him with the instinct to draw with his right, but the jerky movements of the arm were unable to match the mental swordsmanship of its owner.

“Do you really believe you have a chance against me left handed, brother?” Edward asked pointedly. “I have no desire to cause you harm, that’s why I’m here.”

Degory snorted, “You have no desire to cause me harm, yet you would turn me over to the Hand of Paris without any reservation. I find your concern touching.”

“It’s not that simple. How far do you think you can run before they will find you? I have work that needs doing and you will be of tremendous assistance. Getting Maxfield and Pandora’s Box back are of supreme importance to the us. You are the key to finding them.”

“I told you,” Degory began as he inched closer toward his opponent, “I have no idea where or when the Temporal Accelerator will reappear.” He took a quick slice at Edward, who deftly parried it.

“I wish I could believe that. You have aroused suspicion with very powerful people. My influence could protect you, if you cooperate.”

“You really believe you matter to these madmen?” Degory demanded. “You are a pawn in something of which you cannot see the truth or magnitude. I’ve only seen a fraction of what they are up to and, quite frankly, I don’t understand the half of it. However, this is not what the Brotherhood is meant for. We’re here to guide and protect civilization, not rule them!”

Edward stiffened, obviously offended. “I will tell you one last time Brother, for your safety, come with me.”

Though the situation was deadly serious, Degory could not help but bait his brother. “Edward, you should know, even left handed, I’ve always been better than you.”

The duel commenced. Each combatant thrusting, slashing, and parrying as one tried to best the other. What Degory had said was indeed true, he was a better swordsman than Edward, as he had always been from the time their father had enrolled them in a fencing school at the ages of twelve and ten. Edward was always frustrated at being bested consistently by his younger sibling. It was something Degory could now use to his advantage. In truth, it was more difficult using his left hand and he had to use his brass arm to block an incoming thrust. Steel rang on steel for a full minute that ended with Edward bleeding from a minor slash in his arm. Before the duel could proceed any further, several burly men burst into the room carrying the smell of the sea and the burly look of dock-workers. Cordelia screamed as one of them, a beady eyed man with a tattered bowler hat, held a plasmatic pistol to her head.

“Stop!” exclaimed Edward. “Degory, please, do not make me hurt my daughter.”

Though he had clearly lost all perspective regarding to whom he had his allegiance, the plea regarding Cordelia seemed genuine. Even had it not been, he had endangered the niece he loved as his own daughter far too much already this evening. Without a second thought Degory dropped his weapon, it gave a dull ring as it hit the carpeted floor. Two of the burly thugs held him fast, searching him for other weapons. Edward sheathed his sword in his own cane and the man with the bowler hat lowered his pistol. Degory observed the pistol was far too expensive to be in the hands of a run-of-the-mill hireling, despite his appearance.

“You can’t take him! Please Father!” Cordelia sobbed, rushing to Degory and embracing him.

“Cordelia, listen to me,” Degory said calmly as they were dragged apart, “There’s nothing more to be done. If going with your father keeps you safe, it is a course of action I embrace.” Turning to his brother he said, “She knows, Edward. Your daughter now knows exactly who her father is. I do hope you can live with yourself.”

With a motion of Edward’s head, there was nothing more to be said between the two, and Degory was escorted out. As he descended the stairs he could hear his niece demanding her father take his leave. He was looking for some manner of escape, but could think of none that would not endanger Cordelia. His best course of action for the time being was compliance. Confident she would follow his instructions in locating the Kingship, she should be able to locate and hopefully rescue him, wherever he was about to be taken. At least he now stood the chance of gleaning additional information regarding the Hand of Paris. Learning about the multitude of plans in the works might be worth any unpleasantries he may be forced to endure. At least that’s what he told himself.

Roughly shoved into the back of one of the black steam powered carriages, Degory could see it was clearly expensive, of course Edward would settle for no less. He wasn’t able to take advantage of the comfort and luxury as a moistened cloth was held to his face upon entering. Within seconds he was lost to the sick, sweet smelling oblivion of chloroform.