"Pappa One, Rudi, please confirm number of troops, over."
Rudi looked down. A flash caught his eye, then another one.
"Rudi here, am under fire from Wergatfurt, departing in haste, over." His hands were clammy. Even though none of the musketry could possibly reach him, it was unnerving to be so exposed. He pulled back on the bar to nose gently down, gathering speed: the sooner he checked out the palace and got the hell away from this area, the happier he'd be.
Tracking up the shining length of the river, Rudi headed towards the concentric walls of the castle overlooking the Wergat. The Hjalmar Palace was an enormous complex, sprawling across a hillside, surrounded on three sides by water. It stood in plain sight, proud of the trees that clothed the land around it. Rudi raised his glasses and stared at the walls. From a mile out, it looked perfectly normal. Certainly the cannon stationed in Wergalsfurt hadn't bitten any chunks out of those walls yet.
"Pappa One, Rudi, update please, over."
"Rudi here. Approaching Hjalmar Palace at two five hundred feet. Looks quiet. Over."
"Pappa One, Rudi, be advised palace has missed two watch rotations, over. Be alert for-"
Rudi missed the rest. Down below, sparks were flashing from the gatehouse. Startled, he let go of the binoculars and threw himself to the left, side-slipping away from the tower. A faint crackling sound reached his ears, audible over the buzz of the engine. "Rudi, Pappa One, am under fire from the palace, over." He leaned back to the right, feeling a bullet pluck at the fabric of his wing. This shouldn't he happening, he told himself, disbelieving: the altimeter was still showing two thousand feet. How are they reaching me? A horrible suspicion took hold. "Pappa One, Rudi, they've got-shit!"
For a moment he glanced down at the shattered casing of the radio, blinking stupidly. Then he leaned forward, trying to squeeze every shuddering mile per hour that was available out of the airframe, fuming and swearing at himself for not bringing a spare transceiver.
His unwelcome news-that whoever had taken the Hjalmar Palace had also taken its heavy machine guns, and knew how to use them-would now be delayed until he returned to Castle Hjorth.
It took them two hours to stagger back up the track to the waypoints blazed on the trees, and another half hour to reach the marked transit point. Walking in near-darkness with early flakes of snow whirling around them wasn't Huw's idea of a happy fun vacation: but his sense of urgency pushed him on, even though he was halfway to exhaustion. We've got to tell someone about this, he kept reminding himself. Important didn't begin to describe the significance of the door into nowhere. We might not be the only people who can world-walk-or even the most effective at it.
Eventually he staggered into the clearing where they'd pitched the tent-now a dark hump against a darker backdrop of trees, lonely and small in the nighttime forest. "You ready?" he asked Yul.
"I think you should go first, bio," his brother rumbled. "You're the one who understands that stuff."
"Yes but- " He made a snap decision: "-Follow me at once, both of you. We can recover the camp later if we need to. I may need witnesses to back me up."
"I'd kill for a bath!" Elena ended on a squeak. "Let's go!"
"Count of three," said Huw. He bared his wrist to the chilly air and squinted. "One, two-"
He lurched as the accustomed headache kicked in, then gasped as the humid evening air of home hit him in the face like a wet flannel. The noise of insects was almost deafening after the melancholy silence of the forest. To his left, Elena blinked into view and winced theatrically. "I'm going to the bathroom," she announced, unslinging her P90. "I may be some time."
"Whatever." Huw waited a few seconds before he turned to his brother, who was grinning like an idiot. "Is she always like this?"
"What? Oh, you should see her in polite society, bro." He stared after her longingly.
Huw punched him on the arm. "Come on inside, I've got to report this immediately."
He headed for the front room, shedding his pack and boots and finally his jacket and outer waterproof trousers as he went. The mobile phone was where he'd left it, plugged in and fully charged. He picked it up and unlocked it, then dialed by hand a number he'd committed to memory. It took almost thirty seconds to connect, but rang only once before it was answered. "This is Huw. The word today is 'interstitial.' Yes, I'm well, thank you, and yourself, sir. I want to speak to the duke immediately, if you can arrange it."
Hulius watched him from the doorway, a faintly amused expression on his face. From upstairs, the sound of running water was barely audible.
Huw frowned. "Please hold," Carlos had said. He was the duke's man; he would have been told that Huw was working on a project for him, surely? "Trouble?" asked Yul.
"Too early to say." Huw sat down on the bedroll, cradling the phone. "I'm on hold-oh. Yes, sir, I am. We're all there. I have an urgent report-what? Yes. Um. Um. Can you repeat that, please? Yes. Okay, I guess. Transfer me."
He clamped his free hand over the mouthpiece and grimaced horribly at Yul. "Shit. We've been nobbled."
"What- " Yul began, but Huw's face turned to an attentive mask before he could continue.
"Yes? My lady? Yes, I remember. What's going on? It's about- oh, yes, indeed. You want-you want us to meet you where! -When?-Tomorrow? But that's more than a thousand miles! We could fly-oh. Are you sure?" He rolled his eyes. "Yes, my lady. Um. We'll have to get moving right away. Okay. You have my number? We'll be there."
He hung up then put the phone down deceptively gently, as if he'd rather have thrown it out the window. "What was that about?"
Huw looked up at his brother. "We'd better roust Elena out of her bath. Shit." He shook his head. "Bro?"
"That was my lady d'Ost-one of his grace's agents. I got through to the duke's office but he's busy right now. Carlos passed on orders to submit a written report: meanwhile we're to get moving at once. We've got to drive all the way to the west coast and back on some fucking stupid errand. We're to take our guns, and we've got to be in Las Vegas by noon tomorrow, so we're going to be moving out right now. There's a private plane waiting for us near Richmond but we've got to get there first and it's going to take eight hours to get where we're going once we're airborne. Some kind of shit has hit the fan and they've got my name down as one of the trustees to deal with it!" He trailed off plaintively. "What's going on?"
Hulius grunted. "Two and a half thousand miles, bro. They must really want you there badly."
"Yeah. That's what I'm afraid of. Hmm, Lady d'Ost. I wonder what she does for the duke?"
Otto stared at the buzzing gnat in the distance, and swore.
"Gregor, my compliments to SirGeraunt and I request the pleasure of his company in the grand hall as a matter of urgency."
The hand- man dashed off without saluting, catching the edge in his voice. The faint hum of the dot in the sky, receding like a bad dream of witchcraft, put Otto in mind of an angry yellowjacket. He could barely hear it over the ringing in his ears; the morning smelled of brimstone and gunsmokc. Too early, he thought. He'd barely taken the inner keep an hour ago: he'd counted on having at least a day to arrange things to his advantage. "Heidlor," he called.
"Sir?" Heidlor had been saying something to one of the gunners, who was now hastily swabbing out the barrel of his weapon.
"Gel the fishermen into the grand hall and have them set their nets up between ankle and knee level, leaving areas free as I discussed. Once they've done the hall they're to do the barracks room, the duke's chambers, the kitchen, and the residences, in that order. The carpenters are to start on the runways in the grand hall as soon as the fishermen are finished, and to move on in the same order. This is of the utmost urgency, we can expect visitors at any time. Should any of the craftsmen perform poorly, make an example of them-nail their tools to their hands or something."