Secrets of the New World (Infini Calendar) (Volume 2) (15 page)

“That’s right: Edward Quincy Huffington, court clerk. Come in, come in.”

They went into his flat. The room was small and with very few furnishings aside from a low table in front of a couch. The table was covered in a pile of what were presumably legal documents. A burning lantern hung from the ceiling above the table. Edward Q. Huffington had apparently been working late when they arrived. “I apologize for calling on you at this late hour—” Jeanne started.

Huffington cut her off. “Oh, not at all, not at all,” he said, standing in front of the table and rubbing his hands together in what looked to Jeanne like heavy anticipation. “That you’ve come at this hour means you must want some help very badly, and I do so
looooove
to help.”

Jeanne was put off by his bizarre declaration. This must be what the President had meant, then. “Mr. Huffington—”

“Call me Edward, please, please.”

“Ah—all right. Edward, we do, in fact, need your help. Desperately, in fact.”

Huffington began rapidly stomping his left foot while moaning in what Jeanne thought was—but really hoped
wasn’t
—ecstasy. “Ohhhhh, I so love to help people.”

Could it be that this man got a surge of sexual joy from helping people? Jeanne was no stranger to sexual deviants—having spent time with the Marquis de Sade—but she had never heard of such a thing.

She exchanged a confused look with Frederick. Nevertheless, she had to stay focused. “Edward, I understand you can speak the Piscataway language.”

He seemed to still be lost in his own depraved world. “Huh? Oh, yes. Sometimes they bring complaints before the federal government—broken treaties and the like—and I am called upon to…
help
.” That set him off again, and he resumed stomping the floor and moaning. “Ohhhh, I wish I could do more for them.”

Jeanne now realized it would be the easiest thing in the world to secure this man’s help. “Edward,” she said, in the sweetest tone she could muster, “if you help us tonight, it would mean the world to us.”

“Ohhhhh! It would?”

“Absolutely. In fact, you could end up
saving a life
.”

He howled in pure pleasure. After several moments, he stopped. “If you’ll just give me a moment, I need to…uh…get changed.”

Jeanne was thoroughly disgusted, but she said nothing. She didn’t keep quiet out of tact; words simply failed her.

While she and Frederick waited for Edward Q. Huffington, they went out into the street where they were soon met by an arriving steam carriage. In the cab was the prone form of Farahilde. Jeanne had sent for her so they could take her to the Piscataway. Jeanne could only pray the native people of this land would agree—and were actually able—to help.

Farahilde was sweating profusely and her jaw muscles kept clenching. She was clearing suffering greatly, even in her unconscious state. Jeanne knew perfectly well what it meant. “Kyoko’s medicine is wearing off.”

“Is there nothing we can do?” Frederick asked, his voice full of concern over his dying fiancé.”

Jeanne picked up a metal canister that was resting on the floor. “We can give her some more. I had some brought here. But it’s only a temporary measure; it probably won’t prolong her life by more than a few hours.”

Edward came out and joined them. “Sorry about that. I’m ready to go now. And don’t worry; even if I help greatly, I won’t have to change again for a while.”

“Ah…that’s…good,” Jeanne replied. “Edward, you can ride up front next to the driver. With our friend lying across a whole seat in the cab, there will only be enough room for Frederick and myself.” She was very glad it had turned out that way. She didn’t want to be around Edward Q. Huffington any more than necessary.

***

While Jeanne and Frederick sat across from Farahilde in the steam carriage, they couldn’t help but stare at their dying friend. “I don’t like this: sitting here and not being able to do anything for her,” he said.

Jeanne picked up a second canister off the floor. Inside it was a cloth soaking in water. She handed him the cloth. “You can wipe down her forehead.”

“Thank you,” he said. He reached forward and applied the wet cloth to Farahilde’s head.

Jeanne was curious about this young man. Just how did he feel about Farahilde? “How long have you known her?”

“A little over a month.”

“That’s not very long.”

“I suppose not. Reputation-wise, though, I’ve known her for longer.”

“So you knew what kind of person she was even before you met her?” Jeanne knew she probably shouldn’t ask the question that was on her mind, but she did anyway. “Why did you agree to marry her?”

He was silent for a moment, apparently deciding how to respond. He then said, without any hint of humor or other indication he was joking, “She saved my life.”

Jeanne was taken aback. “Really?”

“You probably don’t believe me…”

She shook her head. “You’d be surprised. You probably wouldn’t believe
me
, but she saved my life as well.”

Now it was his turn to be surprised. “She did?”

Nodding, she said, “Yes. It’s funny; if you’re lost, she has this way of kicking you in the direction you need to go.”

He smiled. “That’s exactly right, Miss Rose. Even if you’ve never met her.”

“But how did she save your life before you even met her?”

“If you really want to know, I’ll tell you.”

***

She slowly opened her eyes. “Oh—you’ve finally wakened, my precious one.” She looked around and found herself in one bedroom in the Hofburg palace in Vienna.

“What the hell…?”

“Farahilde, we’ve asked you to be mindful of your language.”

Farahilde looked to her right and there was the last person she ever expected: Antonia Johanna. Her older sister and former queen of France was sitting at her bedside, decked out in all her splendor. “Antonia! My God! Is it really you?”

She gave Farahilde a smile overflowing with warmth and love. “I know it must be hard to believe, but it is indeed I.”

Farahilde sat up with the intention of embracing her sister. However, she instead put a hand to her aching head, an ailment she just now realized she had. “What happened? The last thing I remember was being attacked by that bitch Deschanel.”

“That was vile of her,” Antonia said. “But perhaps we should thank her. Only when you approach death can you visit this place.”

Farahilde didn’t understand. “What are you talking about? How can you even be here? Wait…Am I dead?”

“Not yet, no. But you are very close. Jeanne is racing to save your life. Let us pray she succeeds.” Antonia closed her eyes and Farahilde could see her mouth forming quiet words.

Farahilde let her silent invocation continue uninterrupted for several moments. Finally she said, “If I’m not dead, where am I? There’s no way this is really the Hofburg palace.”

Antonia opened her eyes and looked at her. “Such a smart girl. We call this the Place of Revelations. I made it look like the Hofburg because that is a comfortable setting for you. Although, each person experiences it differently.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ask Jeanne. She’s been here.”

“Fräulein?”

Antonia nodded, still smiling. “I never imagined you two would become friends, especially after what happened inside your fort. But I’m glad to see you embracing other people. When I was alive you didn’t have many friends.”

Farahilde was embarrassed by the path this conversation was taking. She turned her head away from Antonia in an exaggerated haughty move. “Hmph! I had subordinates. I didn’t need friends.”

Still smiling, Antonia said, “Who are you trying to convince?”
Farahilde became flustered. “I-I don’t need to convince anyone! I know what lies inside my own mind. Anyway—why have you brought me here?”

“You brought
yourself
here, Farahilde. The subconscious finds its way to the Place of Revelations whenever you are near death and in need of answers.”

“Huh? What are you going on about, sister? Answers? What answers?”

“Usually, it is the answer to the question that plagues you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Farahilde balked. “The only question on my mind is ‘What the hell am I doing here?’”

Antonia suddenly became serious. “My dear little sister, no one comes here unless there is a question that is eating them up inside. I can’t help you unless you accept the existence of that question. Now—what is it? Ask the question, so that it may be answered.”

Farahilde looked away from her. The youngest member of the Hapsburg family hadn’t been expecting this, and wasn’t prepared for it. However, now that he had been confronted with what she most feared, she decided it was time to face it, and Antonia was probably the only person she could have this talk with.

“Why does Leo hate me?”

Antonia smiled again. “The question is asked! Now it can be answered. Come with me.”

Antonia turned to leave the room. Farahilde jumped out of bed to follow her, discovering that despite the fact she had been in bed she was fully dressed.

She followed Antonia who moved swiftly through the Hofburg Palace until the latter went into Leopold’s chamber where he conducted his business with foreign dignitaries—the very room where had told Farahilde of their trip to America and her arranged marriage with Frederick. Farahilde went inside and there Antonia was talking with Leopold. There was someone else present as well. A small child with long dark hair wearing a frilly pink dress.

Four-year-old Farahilde.

Chapter XI: What the Piscataway had to Say

Maryland, United States, December 12, 1792 (Infini Calendar), 10:30 p.m.

The steam carriage carrying Farahilde drove north up the main road leading out of Washington. Outside the city was mostly wilderness, and the ride was at times quite bumpy. The only sounds were the chugging of the steam engine on the carriage’s rear, and the grinding of rocks and other things in the road as the carriage drove along.

Eventually the carriage stopped and Edward Q. Huffington welcomed them to the Piscataway settlement. They got out and the circular settlement, consisting of a dozen rectangular houses surrounded by a ten-foot-high fence of wooden stakes, was before them. The houses were covered by drum-shaped roofs made out of what looked like tree bark to Jeanne.

As they gently carried Farahilde’s unconscious form out of the steam carriage, Edward gave them a quick rundown on Piscataway culture.

The Piscataway people were experts in agriculture, and they grew everything from corn to squash. The women were even sophisticated enough to actually breed plants to get the best results, while the men actively hunted small game as well, and fishing was another way they fed their families. 

Edward explained that the Piscataway had settlements all over this region, and this one in particular was the home of the local chief, or
weroance
. They would need to ask the weroance for help in curing Farahilde.