“Like a string of baby ducks,” remarked Dubois, chuckling.
Chapter Nine
The most important part of any operation is a well thought out plan. I have sent you additional funds and several of the newly developed weapons known as “rifles” to assist you. You will notice that the rifles have slow curving grooves cut into the interior of their barrels. This “rifling” provides greater accuracy than targeting constructs, but does require some practice in order to use effectively.
– Excerpt from a letter from Sir Henry Wallace to his agent, James Harrington
GRABBING THE BUGGY WHIP, STEPHANO SNAPPED IT over the horse’s head, urging the beast on. The cab went careening down the road with Stephano rocking from side to side and bouncing up and down on the sprung seat. Glancing back, he saw Piefer still in pursuit, again taking aim with his rifle.
Stephano had nowhere to go. He lowered his head and hunched his shoulders, trying to make himself as small a target as possible. Then suddenly he had more to worry about than being hit by a bullet.
The road made a sharp curve to the right up ahead. The cab was heading into the turn at a frightening speed. The driver yelled that they were going to crash and hurled himself out of the side of the cab. The last Stephano saw of him, the driver was tumbling head over heels into a weed patch.
Stephano tried to slow the horse, but the creature was out of control. He had his ears laid back, his eyes swiveled wildly, and spittle flew from his mouth. He plunged on as Stephano braced himself. The cab took the corner on one wheel, teetered perilously for a moment, then righted itself, landing on both wheels with a bone-jarring jounce.
Stephano slapped the reins and snapped the whip, and they went rolling on. He looked back to see that Piefer’s driver, fighting to maintain control of a far larger carriage, sensibly slowed to make the turn. Piefer had fallen behind, but the two assassins mounted on horseback were catching up. These were the two who had been firing at him from the woods. Each brandished a pistol.
Stephano hoped they would shoot. He was a moving target, the odds were likely that they would miss, and once they had fired their weapons, they would have to reload. They would have a hard time pouring in powder and thrusting home a bullet while riding a horse at a full gallop.
Unfortunately, these men were too professional to make such a mistake. Holding their pistols in readiness, they spurred on their horses. They planned to catch up with the cab and simply shoot their victims once they were close.
Stephano faced to the front, keeping his eyes on the road. The horse was starting to tire, showing signs of being winded. The two men on relatively fresh horses would easily manage to catch the cab.
Stephano considered his options. They were grimly few. When his assailants arrived, he could jump from his seat onto one of them and knock the man off his horse. But that still left the other man and Piefer free to kill them.
The cab was heading into another curve, but this time Stephano didn’t have to worry about overturning. The weary horse had slowed his pace and they took the corner decorously. Rounding the curve, Stephano was startled to see that they had reached the outskirts of the city.
The road that led to the Church of Saint Charles was not much traveled. But the cab and those pursuing it were now going to be running into a stream of carts, wagons, horses, and pedestrians. The two assassins on horseback could weave their way through traffic faster than he could maneuver a cab.
Stephano looked over his shoulder again. Thinking the two assassins would increase their pace, he was surprised to see them dropping behind, apparently in response to some order from Piefer. They were conferring with him as he leaned down from the driver’s seat.
By Heaven, Stephano thought with elation, we might get out of this alive after all!
He arrived at an intersection. Several roads branched out from a single lane, all heading into the city. He needed to reach Canal Street, where the Cloud Hopper was docked. Stephano guided the horse onto the Street of Kings, a narrow thoroughfare that led into the heart of the city, as Rodrigo thrust open the trapdoor through which passengers communicated with the driver and shouted up at him.
“What are you doing? This street will be crowded at this time of day. You should take Cattle Market Road.”
“We like crowded streets,” Stephano shouted back. “The more people the better. Look behind us.”
“And get my head blown off?” Rodrigo asked, horrified.
“Just look,” Stephano yelled.
Rodrigo poked his head cautiously out of the carriage.
“They’re still there,” he reported. “They’re still chasing us.”
“Yes, but they’re not still shooting at us,” Stephano said. “They won’t risk firing into a crowd.”
At least, he hoped they wouldn’t risk it.
Rodrigo held up the pistol he’d recovered from the site of the duel and waved it in the air. “I found a hidden magical sigil on the firing mechanism! That’s what caused the gun to misfire! I told you I didn’t shoot it!”
Stephano thought the matter over as he continued to try to negotiate the cab through the traffic. Rodrigo had been meant to die in that duel. Valazquez had been supposed to kill him.
“Why in the name of all the saints and all the angels and God Himself would anyone go to this much trouble and expense to kill Rodrigo!” Stephano asked himself.
The Street of Kings was of one of the most heavily traveled roads in Evreux. Stephano was doing a fair job of driving the cab, and hoped he might actually be able to reach Canal Street when the horse decided enough was enough. Exhausted, in a bad mood, wanting only its stable and oats, the animal came to a dead stop in the middle of a busy intersection.
Stephano yelled and cajoled and plied the whip-to no avail. The horse stood with his head down, stubbornly refusing to budge. Traffic in all directions rolled to a standstill. Drovers with loads to deliver swore at Stephano and shook their fists. They were joined in their ire by the drivers of cabs and coaches and by their irate passengers. One drover even jumped off his wagon and came running toward Stephano with the idea of throttling him. Several pedestrians clustered about, attempting to deal with the horse, which added to the gridlock.
Stephano had no idea what to do. The carriage belonging to Piefer was caught in the snarl. But the two assassins on horseback were steadily pushing their way toward him.
Stephano flung the whip aside, dropped the reins, jumped out of the seat, and ran to the front of the cab.
“Get out!” he yelled at Rodrigo. “We’re walking!”
His friend stared at him in astonishment, wondering if he’d lost his mind, then he climbed out of the cab. Ignoring the swearing and irate shouts, Stephano and Rodrigo bolted for the sidewalk, which was now filled with interested spectators. The two elbowed and shoved and began to dodge and weave and push their way through the crowd.
Stephano looked back to see chaos had broken out in the intersection. The drover who had been going to fight Stephano was now taking on a fellow drover. Passengers were leaning out of the carriages. People were tugging on the horse. Traffic was backing up as far as he could see. Unless Piefer abandoned his carriage, he wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. The two assassins on horseback were trying their best to edge their way through the confusion, but without much better success.
Stephano paused a moment to go over a mental map of the city of Evreux in his head, trying to figure out the quickest route to the Cloud Hopper, which was docked along one of the canals that ran through the city.
He noticed people stopping to stare at him, but he assumed this was because he was filthy from running through graveyards and driving a cab with a crazed horse, so he did not give it much thought. He was about to say, “We can continue down this street to reach Canal,” when Rodrigo suddenly seized hold of him and dragged him into a dark alley.