"My father liked to entertain," Francis explained, when he saw her looking down the empty expanse. "We used to have some grand parties here when I was a child. More marmalade?"
She didn't know what that was, nor did she know what to do with all of the extra forks and spoons on each side of her plate, and it was really odd that servants kept bringing more plates, when she could just as easily served herself. Breakfast at the Vierras had consisted of one big pot of something dropped in the middle of the table, and all the milk they could drink of course, and then everybody helped themselves until they were stuffed. Breakfast in her old life had happened sporadically. Actually, all the other meals had been kind of like that, too. She'd spent a lot of time hungry.
Most of the others had the same gold and black ring. Francis had asked her not to wear hers yet. Apparently there was some sort of oath you were supposed to take before you could wear one. She noticed that Delilah didn't have one either.
"Any word yet from Garrett?" Lance asked.
"His train should be arriving in Ogden now," Browning said. "My home town actually. I do miss it. I'd love to see it again before I die."
"Why can't you visit?" Faye asked.
The old man paused, muffin halfway to his mouth. "Well, my dear, as far as the world is concerned, I died of a heart attack a few years ago while in Belgium. If our enemies knew that I was Grimnoir, they would go after my family. That is how they operate. That is a sad byproduct of our mission. Now I use my knowledge to help protect those in need of our aid."
Faye scowled. His name sounded familiar from the radio. "You're famous, aren't you?"
Lance grunted a laugh. "Half the world's guns have his name on the patent. Except mine, because John Moses never bothered to make a revolver."
"I'm a simple inventor," Browning answered modestly. "I designed a few firearms. Nothing important."
"Semiautos jam…" Lance muttered, obviously trying to get a rise out of him.
"Mine don't," the older man responded with a gentle smile.
Faye decided she liked Mr. Browning. He seemed like a very nice man.
"I'll drink to that, my deceased friend." Lance raised his glass. It seemed a little early to Faye to be drinking that much whiskey, but the others seemed used to Lance. "According to the papers, I died in a sudden fire. But I suppose by definition, fire is sudden if it kills you."
"What were you before?"
"Big game hunter, adventurer, automobile racing driver, explorer…" Lance paused to think. "Cow puncher, spent a year as a coal miner, let's see… come from a long line of cowboys, great-great grandpa was a pirate." That sounded farfetched to Faye, but then again, when they'd first met, Lance had been a talking squirrel. She was willing to go with it.
Faye turned to the remaining three. Jane was reading a book again and apparently wasn't even listening to the conversation. She always seemed to be reading something. Delilah hadn't spoken yet either, she was sullenly stabbing at her food with a fork. Francis looked up.
"Well, if we're telling our stories, I'm still alive. Everybody knows I've got magic, but they don't realize how much, but most folks think I'm a sort of fop that gets by on his family name and attends lots of parties. I play it dumb."
"Really?" Lance raised one bushy eyebrow. "How ever do you pull that off?"
"I…" Francis frowned. "Never mind."
Faye glanced at Delilah. The dark-haired lady was about the prettiest woman she'd ever seen. "I bet you were a movie star."
Delilah started to laugh. "Oh, come on… Wait… you're serious?"
"Yes," Faye said. "You're very beautiful."
Delilah just stared, surprised, green eyes blinking rapidly. "Why yes. Yes, I am. And yeah, that's paid a few bills for me, but probably not in the way you're thinking, little girl."
Mr. Browning coughed politely.
"Oh, don't get all huffy, Moses," Delilah said coldly. "I won't talk about it in polite company." She stood up and tossed the napkin on her plate. "I'm not hungry." She walked from the room without another word.
"What did I say?" Faye asked.
"Ms. Jones has had a difficult life," Browning said. "Her father was one of us… once. I'm afraid that sometimes the Society does what it thinks is best in the big picture, but it misses the suffering of the individual… never mind. I apologize."
"Oh, don't worry," Lance said. "John here is our moral compass, but he can be a little disapproving of certain vices." He downed the rest of his whiskey in one gulp. "Ahhh… That's good stuff. I'll grab Delilah and we'll have a little talk with the prisoner. Socking him in the head will cheer her up." Lance left as well.
Jane spoke without looking up from her book. "I've been Grimnoir my whole life, and my parents, and my grandparents before that. They were some of the first founders. I was born into this. I don't have to pretend to be dead, because I've never gotten to really be alive." She turned the page. "You have to actually exist first, you know."
"That's… that's kind of sad," Faye said.
"Eh…" Jane shrugged. "You get used to it. This is all I've ever done, so I can't complain. I'm a Mender after all, that's my god-given gift, and I've got no shortage of injured people this way. My friends have left things behind to do this. I never had to, and even if I did, I'd still do it anyway. I'm just glad that I never had to make that choice."
Faye understood. "I don't really have anything either. I guess if my Grandpa was still alive, I'd still be there, with him, happy. Now? I think it's awful nice of you folks to let me stay here for a spell." Faye didn't know what she was going to do next. She was still figuring out what had happened, as secret societies and Tesla superweapons were a bit over her head, but General Pershing had said that she was welcome to stay with them as long as she wanted.
"Leaving things behind is tough." Jane placed a bookmark to hold her page then finally set her book down. "You haven't met my boyfriend yet. That's how it was for him. He was a radio star. Had his own show on the American Broadcasting Network and everything, best voice in the world, people used to say. He read the news, he was half the voices on the detective shows. Everyone loved him, and then one day they didn't anymore. They hated him."
"What happened?"
"People found out he had Power, that he could influence people with his words, get inside their heads. They pretty much ran him out on a rail. It ruined his life." Jane sniffed and reopened her book. "Poor Dan."
"Don't be hasty. Young Mr. Garrett turned out to be one of our finest operatives," Browning suggested as he rose. "He would never have met you either, my dear, if he'd continued in the radio business, and I don't believe he would have it any other way." Jane blushed. "Now, if you will excuse me, I do have some business to conduct."
His eyes fluttered, open enough so that he could see who was at his bedside. He made out the scarecrow form and shiny baldness, decided that it was John Moses Browning, and closed his eyes again because any light was particularly painful today.
"Yes, John?" Pershing whispered. "Did Garrett recover the device?"
"We've not heard anything yet," Browning replied.
"I see…" That meant that there was another reason for the visit, and Pershing already knew what it was. Browning was his second-in- command, one of his oldest surviving friends, a deeply honorable man, and keeping the truth from him was more painful than the cancers eating his bones.
Browning sighed. "I'm concerned, Jack."
"The Chairman's trying to reassemble a weapon that blew a thousand-mile hole in Siberia," he laughed, but it came out as a painful wheezing noise. "I'm a touch concerned, myself."
"That Cog, Einstein, figured that it was such a release of Power that it would have been felt in other realities. Concern is an understatement, but we both already know that…" Browning paused. "That's not why I'm here. I'm a little worried about your recent recruiting."