Master of Myth (The Antigone's Wrath Series Book 1) (4 page)

Mrs. Tweed knelt in front of her. “Now dear, pay attention. This one is called cowslip. Next time you go off adventuring, best take a bit of this with you. Might find something worth keeping, rather than having only a ripped frock to show for your troubles then.”

“Yes ma’am.” Rachel dug her toes in the dirt and tried to look ashamed, but wasn’t at all sure this was successful. She hadn’t cared about the tear in her dress. She’d just as soon wear trousers as the boys did, but her caretaker insisted she at least try to act a bit of a lady. Mrs. Tweed was very nice though, and made the most wonderful cookies, so Rachel tolerated the insistence on dresses.

The woman was positively obsessed with plants these days, however. It was always “this is this and can be used for that,” or some other such thing. The amount of jars with dried bits of leaves and flowers in her kitchen grew exponentially by the day. Even the cookie jar was now home to some shriveled up seeds, rather than the sweets that normally filled it to the top. Rachel did not like this new hobby of the old woman’s.

“I’ve just received the most fascinating picture in the mail from a friend of mine traveling on the other side of the world.” Mrs. Tweed brushed off her hands on her gardening apron and fished around in a front pocket. After a moment, she produced a single black and white photograph on it and handed it to the little girl. “Look at this now. The letter I got with it says this plant is called datura, and that they found a whole grove of them.”

Rachel studied the picture closely. Giant white flowers dripped from woody stalks, the blossoms as tall as the man in the photo. They looked like trumpets hanging from the ends of the vines. It was very pretty. “Where is this? Can we go see it?” she asked.

Mrs. Tweed laughed. “Oh dear, I’m afraid this is very far away. This place is in Ecuador.”
 

Rachel scrunched up her face as she thought, not quite able to put a pin in the location of the foreign country on her mental map.
 

“Come. We’ll go look at your father’s charts inside.”

The memory faded away and Rachel sighed. She never had seen that forest of giant datura flowers in person. On her next vacation, she would definitely schedule a visit.

Still clutching the dried bouquet, Rachel laid her head on her pillow and closed her eyes again. This time, she was blessed with dreamless sleep.

She reached for something, and he was suddenly repelled back into himself. The effect sent his body reeling and he hit the cold stone floor, gasping for breath. Cursing, he sat up and tried to get his bearings. Such a fast transition would undoubtedly bring him a massive headache, and he needed his wits about him before the pain became too much of a distraction.

“What is it, Brother? Why have you broken the connection?” The old man’s bony fingers gripped his arm in an attempt to help him to his feet.

He shook off the feeble assistance. “I didn’t break it. Something happened. She has some sort of ward or means of protection.”

“You must try again.”

“Do not push me,
Brother
,” he said, angry with himself, and that woman. “There will be no way I can reach her again this night. You know as well as I that attempting another ritual would be pointless.” He winced as the first stabs of pain shot through his skull.

“Did she realize what it was you were doing before you were repelled?”

“I don’t believe so.” He pinched at the bridge of his nose as another needle of discomfort hit him. “Whatever she did, I believe was unintentional. She may have sensed my presence, but I doubt she has the knowledge or skills to know what was happening, let alone how to stop it. No, I’m sure it was accidental, but fortunate for her.”

“Tomorrow then.” The old man nodded. “You will try again tomorrow.”

He spat and wiped his uncut hand over his mustache. “Perhaps, but adjustments must be made. I need to know more about this
Captain
Sterling.” He narrowed his eyes at the flickering candlelight of the altar. “Make no mistake, I will find her. And when I do…” He let his words trail off as he stalked out of the room.

The impossibly tall man entered the bookshop with obvious ill intentions, but that was not what bothered Silas. It was his manner of dress that gripped the inventor’s heart with icy fear. The all black ensemble topped with the bowler hat was the defining mark of the Brotherhood.

This group of men had an unmistakable air about them. It was a mix of past violence and of violence to come. At least, it was thoroughly unpleasant at any rate. Silas wished the man would simply leave, but knew he would have to talk to him about the package delivered to the shop today. Thankful for the small blessing that Eddie was still en route to a merchant contact, Silas stepped through the doorway to the front of the bookstore.

“Welcome, sir.” Silas gave a small, stiff bow. “How might I be of service to you this day?”

“You are Silas Jensen,
da
?” The man spoke in deep booming tones, heavily accented in what Silas thought might be Russian.

He nodded.

“I believe you receive package today. I am here to negotiate details of contents.”

“About that…” He decided to try his luck at getting out of the job. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I didn’t speak with anyone from your… association… regarding a job of any kind.”

The tall man held up a hand. “There is no misunderstanding, Mr. Jensen. You were believed most qualified individual for task.”

It was Silas’s turn to interrupt. “Qualified? Or expendable?”

The man said nothing at this, staring with cold calculation. When he spoke again, his voice remained in the same measured tone. “As I say, Mr. Jensen, you were determined to be most qualified for task. As you told us before, your work is for who can afford to pay you. We will pay handsomely for your time, if job is done to our standards.”

Silas kicked himself now for using that excuse to not join the ranks of the Brotherhood before. There was nothing for it at the moment. “Some prior communication would have been polite, but it’s a bit late for that now. There is, however, one definite flaw in hiring me.”

“And that would be?” The Russian cocked an eyebrow at him.

“The instruction manual you provided me with is in a language I cannot decipher.” He turned out his open palms, expressing helplessness. “If I cannot read the instructions, I cannot assemble the provided parts as they are meant to be.”

The Russian removed a brown paper packet from inside his jacket. “Then I suggest you make use of this.” He tossed it on the counter. “And find someone who can help you with
your
problem.” Silas noted the stress on the word “your.” Obviously, he was meant to climb this mountain on his own. He swiped at the envelope and looked at the contents.

“Inside you find travel papers for both you and apprentice. Also, ample monies for your journey.”

“Your associates are aware of my aversion to travel, are they not?”

“That is no for me to say.” The man crossed his arms. “I simply deliver message and make sure you understand gravity of work ahead of you.”

“You can tell them that their message has been received and understood.” Silas narrowed his eyes. He hated traveling, either by air or sea, and if the mysterious origin of the book’s language was any indication, this journey would be quite a long one. “Is there anything else?”

“Only one last thing, Mr. Jensen.” He paused, a thin smile crossing his lips.

“And what’s that?”

“We will monitor your progress, to make sure you remain… focused.”

“I’m quite sure that won’t be necessary.”

The Russian gave another cryptic smile but said no more. Instead, he tipped his hat, spun on his heel, and walked out the front door.

Silas cursed under his breath, hating everything that Russian and his bowler hat stood for. He wished he were more physically imposing or had some sort of weapons training, but, unfortunately, that was not where his talents lay. His hands were built for the delicate work required to create
fine
machinery, not brutish functional pieces. His products were expressions, works of art. Damn the Brotherhood. Damn them for not giving him a choice.

He glared at the packet in his hands as the front bell jingled again. His apprentice walked in, looking almost as dejected as Silas felt. “Did you speak with that merchant?” Silas asked.

Eddie nodded, removing his cap and raking a hand through his bright blond hair. “He couldn’t read the characters you provided. He was able to tell me what it isn’t, though. Mr. Cho said it isn’t Chinese, Korean, or Japanese. Whatever it is, he says you’d have to go to Singapore to find a translator.”

Silas scratched at his whiskered chin. He needed a shave, badly. “Singapore, is it?”

“Sir?”

He sighed. “You’ll need to pack a bag. It appears we’re going on a trip.”

“You don’t mean we’re actually
going
to Singapore, do you, sir?”

Ignoring the question, he continued. “Also, write a letter to your father telling him you’ll be away for a while. Don’t be specific on where we’re going. You may tell him we’re researching antique books in the Orient, but nothing about our true business there. Do you understand?”

Eddie looked confused, but he nodded anyway. “I think so, Mr. Jensen. When are we leaving?”

Silas started to exit the room, preoccupied with mental lists of travel preparation. “Don’t know just yet, lad, but it will be soon. Tonight if I can manage it, tomorrow morning if I cannot. Best hurry now. Lots to do.”

He left Eddie standing there, mouth agape. “We’re going to… Singapore?”

Their ship was not the most luxurious of transports, but on short notice, and with a certain amount of discretion being necessary, it was the best Mr. Jensen could procure for the two of them. Eddie stood by the rusty rail, watching the docks of Pevensey fade farther into the distance. When he no longer saw land, Mr. Jensen turned and faced him. “I know it’s not an airship, but—”

“Airships don’t port in Pevensey,” Eddie finished. “I know.”

“We’re taking this ship to La Rochelle, where we’ll have to search for another means of travel. It’s a large port, so I imagine it shouldn’t be too hard to find another means of conveyance. Maybe we can catch an airship next leg,” Mr. Jensen said.

Eddie gazed out over the water towards Pevensey. He’d never traveled as far as this before. When his father brought him from Gillingham to study under Mr. Jensen, it was his first time away from home. And now here he was, on a steamship headed for France. He smiled to himself. The past twenty-four hours held more surprises and excitement than the entirety of his fifteen years. Eddie knew they were possibly in a great amount of danger, but he couldn’t help looking forward to every moment of this adventure.

“Come on then,” Mr. Jensen called to him from halfway across the deck. “We’d best find our room and get some rest while we can.”

Reluctantly, Eddie tore himself from the side of the ship and followed his teacher. He doubted he’d get much sleep tonight, as thrilling as it all was. Each new experience opened up another door in his head, and grew his world by leaps and bounds. They proceeded through the large metal door below the pilothouse and clunked down the stairwell, lugging their small bags with them. They didn’t bring much, only some extra clothes, toiletries and, of course, Mr. Jensen brought the book. He also packed up the pieces of the machine he was supposed to build, painstakingly wrapping each component and placing it all in the crate so it wouldn’t be bothered no matter how abusively it was handled. Mr. Jensen entrusted the crate to a crewman to have it placed in their quarters. Eddie was only glad he didn’t have to carry it himself.

When they arrived at their quarters, the box waited for them. It rested between two small cots that were bolted to the floor, and was strapped to the metal frames to prevent it from shifting during patches of rough seas. Mr. Jensen set his bag on top of the wooden box. Sighing with exhaustion, he flopped down onto the cot and promptly went to sleep, leaving Eddie to wonder what in the world he was supposed to do now.

The apprentice tossed his bag into a corner and sat on his bed to think. Mr. Jensen said nothing about remaining in the room, so perhaps he could do a bit of exploring. He’d never been able to investigate a ship as big as this, only seen them in illustrations, so the chance to poke around was too much temptation for him. With his decision made, he slipped out the door and headed back to the main deck.

He hoped to find a deckhand to question, but when he arrived topside, he instead found a rotund gentleman relaxed on top of a wooden crate, puffing on a big, black pipe. When the man saw him, he smiled broadly and motioned him over. Eddie cautiously approached, wondering what the man might want with him.

“Now there’s a good lad, what ho!” He chuckled and puffs of smoke floated into the air. “Come here, boy. What’s your name? Speak up now!”

“Eddie, sir. My name is Eddie,” he answered.

The man frowned. “Eddie? Eddie? No, that won’t do at all. Is it Edward? Edmund? What’s your proper name?”

Eddie groaned. He hated giving people his full name. “Edison, sir. Edison Maclaren.”

“Ah ha! That is indeed a proper name.” He nodded and puffed away on the pipe. “And what, pray tell, has you wandering about this evening? Couldn’t sleep?”

Eddie didn’t need any more prompting to spill over with excited chatter. “Not a bit sleepy, sir. It’s my first time on a ship, and I was hoping to see the engines, or, at the very least, some of the machinery on board. Are you a passenger too, or part of the crew?”

A loud belly laugh rumbled from the man’s middle. “You’ve hit the jackpot, m’boy! Not only am I a part of the ship’s crew, I’m her captain!” He slung his feet over the side of the crate nearest Eddie. “Captain Jasper Kidham, at your service.”

“You’re the captain?” Eddie’s eyes lit up. “So you know everything there is to know about this ship, right?”

The captain slid onto his feet. “I suppose you could say that. Been with this vessel for nigh on ten years now. If I don’t know it, I don’t think there’s another soul on board who would.” He puffed a bit more. “Don’t suppose you’d like a little tour, would you?”