"Don't blame
me,"
Brill said with some asperity.
"I'm not. But if the Council hadn't wanted to place a world-walker on the throne, or to do business with local politicians in Wyoming, we wouldn't be in this fix now."
Fascinating,
thought James. There was familial loyalty on display here, and also a strangely familiar bitterness. He cleared his throat. "Then a defector from your own ranks showed up."
"Who?"
"A doctor—" He stopped. They were staring at him, as if he'd grown a second head. "—I believe you know him. Ven Hjalmar, he's called."
Their faces—cold
sweat sprang out in the small of his back. "Why? Is something wrong?"
"Please continue." Miriam's voice was flat.
"But you—"
"It's a personal matter." She made a cutting gesture. James took in the other signs: Sir Alasdair, Lady Brilliana—sudden focus, as attentive as hounds at the trail of a fox. "What happened?"
Suddenly lots of things slid into place. "You have reason to hate him?" Good. "He has convinced my uncle that it is necessary to conspire with a political patron, and to sell him a, a
breeding program
he says your families established in America. Preposterous nonsense, but . ." He trailed off. Miriam's expression was deathly.
"He did, did he?"
"Yes—" James took a deep breath. "It's true? He's telling the truth? There
is
a breeding program? The American doctors can breed world-walkers the way a farmer breeds sheep?"
"Not
exactly
like that, but close enough for government work." Miriam made eye contact with Alasdair. "We're in so much shit," she said quietly. She looked back to James: "Which commissar is your uncle doing business with?"
"Commissioner Reynolds, overstaff supervisor in charge of the Directorate of Internal Security." James took no pleasure from their expressions. "A man I love even less than the doctor. He carries a certain stink; if I was a Christian I'd say he's committed mortal sins, and knows himself for one of the damned." He smiled crookedly. "I was in at their last meeting, yesterday; to my eternal shame my uncle believes my loyalty knows no limits, and I have not yet disabused him of this notion. Yesterday. The meeting . . . the doctor told Reynolds that your acquaintance Mr. Burgeson was trying to acquire world-walkers of his own. I'm not entirely sure whether he was telling the truth or not, and this is purest hearsay and gossip—I know nothing specific about your arrangements, my lady, and I don't want to. But if the doctor was telling the truth, you'd better warn your patron sooner rather than later. . . ."
RSS HEADLINE NEWS FEED:
UN SECRETARY GENERAL FLIES TO AFFECTED REGION: SE ASIA FACES "UNPRECEDENTED CRISIS": UN Secretary General Kofi Annan today flew to Chandrapur, temporary capital of India, to start talks with the emergency government about efforts to enforce the cease-fire and relieve human suffering in the fallout zone to the north and west of the country . . .
PRESIDENT RUMSFELD SWORN IN: President Donald H. Rumsfeld was today sworn into office as the 45th President of the United States of America. The oath was administered by Supreme Court Chief Justice Antonin Scalia in a somber ceremony conducted at an undisclosed location . . .
HANNITY: ARE LIBERALS ALIENS FROM ANOTHER UNIVERSE?: Sean Hannity says it's open season on liberals because they're obviously intruders from a parallel universe and therefore not genuine Americans . . .
DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE ANNOUNCES SUSPENSION OF EXTRAORDINARY RENDITION: Prisoners will be processed by CIA interrogators instead under new regulations approved by Attorney General Woo . . .
SARS OUTBREAK: WHO QUARANTINES TORONTO, FLIGHTS DIVERTED: A World Health Organization spokesperson denied that the respiratory disease is spread by travelers from parallel timelines. Meanwhile, the outbreak in Ontario claimed its fourth . . .
SAUCERWATCH: GOVERNMENT TESTING UFOS AT GROOM LAKE: Observers who have seen curious shapes in the sky above Area 51 say the current cover story is an increasingly desperate attempt to divert attention from the truth about the alien saucer tech . . .
HOUSE MEETS TO REVIEW EMERGENCY BILL: Congress is meeting today to vote on the Protecting America from Parallel Universe Attackers (PAPUA) bill, described by former president Cheney (deceased) as "vital measures to protect us in these perilous times." The bill was drafted by the newly sworn-in president last week in the wake of . . .
COULTER: NOW IS THE TIME TO INTERN TRAITORS
RUSSIA: PUTIN DENOUNCES "AUTHORITARIAN CONSPIRACY": Russian President Vladimir Putin today denied former President Cheney's account of the terrorist nuclear attack on the Capitol, describing it as implausible and accusing US authorities of concocting a "fairy tale" to provide cover for a coup . . .
END (NEWS FEED)
The final countdown
The track from Kirschford down to the Linden Valley—which also defined the border of the duchy of Niejwein and Baron Cromalloch's ridings—was unusually crowded with carriages and riders this day. A local farmer out tending his herd might have watched with some surprise; the majority of the traffic was clearly upper-class, whole families of minor nobility and their close servants taking to the road in a swarm, as if some great festival had been decreed in the nearby market town of Glantzwurt. But there was no such god's day coming, nor rumor of a royal court tour through the provinces. The aristocracy were more usually to be found on their home estates, staying away from the fetid kennels of the capital at this time of year.
But there were no curious farmers, of course. The soldiers who had ridden ahead with the morning sunrise had made it grimly clear that this procession was not to be witnessed; and in the wake of the savagery of spring and early summer's rampage, those tenants who had survived unscathed were more than cooperative. So the hedgerows were mostly empty of curious eyes as the convoy creaked and squealed and neighed along the Linden Valley—curious eyes which might, if they were owned by unusually well-traveled commoners, recognize the emblems of the witch-families.
The Clan was on the move, and nothing would be the same again.
A covered wagon or a noble's carriage is an uncomfortable way to travel at the best of times, alternately chill and drafty or chokingly, stiflingly hot (depending on the season), rocking on crude leaf springs or crashing from rut to stone on no springs at all, the seats a wooden bench (perhaps with a thin cushion to save the noble posterior from the insults of the road). The horsemen might have had a better time of it, but for the dust clouds flung up by the hooves of close to a hundred animals, and the flies. To exchange a stifling shuttered box for biting insects and mud that slowly clung to sweating man and horse alike was perhaps no choice at all. But one thing they agreed: It was essential to move together, and the path of least resistance was, to say the least, unsafe.
"Why can't we go to 'merca, Ma?"
Helena ven Wu gritted her teeth as one carriage wheel bounced across a stone in the road. Tess, her second-youngest, was four years old and bright by disposition, but the exodus was taking its toll after two days, and the question came out as a whine. "We can't go there, dear. I told you, it's not safe."
"But it's where Da goes when he travels?"
"That's different." Helena rested a hand lightly on the crib. Markus was asleep—had, in fact, cried himself to sleep after a wailing tantrum. He didn't travel well. "We can't go there."
"But why can't we—"
The other occupant of the carriage raised her eyes from the book she had been absorbed in. "For Sky Lady's love, leave your ma be, Tess. See you not, she was trying to sleep?"