The Rift Walker (8 page)

As the American stepped inside, Adele caught a glimpse of her father and Lord Kelvin before the door shut with an echoing click.

She said to the marine commander, “Will you please send word to my father to tell him that I'm out here?”

“I am not allowed to interrupt His Majesty. But if you command it, I will do so.”

Adele had to make her voice heard. She was dismayed that all her reports about the state of the north had been ignored. She couldn't allow her nation to be party to a barbaric strategy. Equatorians couldn't participate in slaughtering the northern humans as if they were merely trampling a field of barley. The thought of Equatorian airships firebombing Edinburgh and killing all the people who had been so good to her made her sick. The thought that Senator Clark had ready access to the emperor while she, his only daughter, was held up in the corridor like some low-level office-seeker infuriated her.

“Highness?”

Adele snapped around with a ready retort, but she saw Colonel Mehmet Anhalt, the commander of her household troops, the White Guard. He stood calmly before the crowd.

The colonel moved quickly to her side, announcing, “I have been searching for you. I need your attention in a matter of grave importance. Can you please accompany me?”

“What matter?”

He replied in a quiet, but assured voice. It was unlikely that anyone else could hear him. “Highness, you must withdraw. You can do no good here. You will accomplish nothing by embarrassing His Majesty or endangering these marines. They are bound not to allow you to enter, but if they dare lay hands on you, their careers are through.”

“My father has to hear what I have to say. He is planning a great tragedy.”

“He has heard you. I know this to be a fact. I beg you to hear me. This is a disaster for you if you push any further.”

Anhalt was sincere, yet firm. His warm, dark eyes burrowed into her with an intensity that belied his calm voice and woke her to reason.

It took everything she had to master her fury. Only Colonel Anhalt could have delivered this message to her. She finally nodded with formality. “Very well.” The words tore through her.

The colonel said, “Thank you, Your Highness.” He saluted the marine. “Captain Eskandari, please give the emperor Her Highness's regrets, but she has been called away.”

“Yes sir.”

Anhalt extended an arm away from the council chamber. “If you please, Highness. Thank you for your help.”

As Adele took Anhalt's arm, the crowd parted for her, the colonel, and her secretary. Despite his kind bluff, no one was fooled. They watched Princess Adele withdraw, defeated, from the field. Yet, for many, there was also a new respect for the girl's intensity and passion. She had stood up to the American who seemed to want to run the Empire.

“M
Y WEDDING DATE
has come and gone, much to the detriment of the war effort, not to mention my personal inconvenience and embarrassment!” The council chamber could hardly contain Senator Clark's foul temper. Only the presence of the emperor kept him civil. “I want a new wedding date set. I want it written down and agreed to. And it needs to happen now or we lose any hope of a weather advantage up north. All this dillydallying jeopardizes the war—if you want to win, that is. I'll not be held back by a hesitant bride!”

Lord Kelvin, the prime minister, replied, “I understand your eagerness, Senator. But after the ordeal suffered by Her Imperial Highness Princess Adele—”

“Good God yes!” Clark snarled. “I know all about the horrific ordeal suffered by the fragile princess. After all, I was the one who rescued her from Edinburgh. But by God! Enough is e-damn-nough! Any more dithering from the court will endanger the alliance. I have a war to start!” He regarded the emperor, who was sitting quietly, absorbing the various arguments. “My apologies, Your Majesty, but you need to know where we all stand. Reports are coming in from Panama that there have been attacks in Philadelphia and Charleston. The New York clan is stealing the march on us. We should be in Paris by now. We should be in Washington and St. Louis. If we wait much later we will bog down in southern France and in the Ohio Valley this winter.”

As Clark grew hotter, Kelvin iced over and his words became slow. “His Imperial Majesty Emperor Constantine the Second is well aware of the views of all sides, sir. You surely appreciate that he is balancing the needs of state with family.”

Clark's eyes narrowed and he stared directly at the prime minister. “There are no needs of family compared to those of state.”

The prime minister didn't move. “His Imperial Majesty Emperor Const—”

“For crying out loud!” the senator bellowed. “Maybe if you didn't have to spout a ten-mile title every time you opened your mouth, I'd be your emperor by now!”

“My
emperor
?” Kelvin actually started, then laughed, perhaps for the third time in his adult life. “You will not be endowed with the title of emperor. You will, of course, be prince regent to Her Imperial Majesty Empress Adele the First.”

Clark stared at the reedy bureaucrat, flexing his hands into fists, clearly working through the long-term implications of murdering the Equatorian prime minister, but then he turned his attention back to the emperor, the man whose opinion was the sole one that mattered.

Emperor Constantine sighed loudly and shifted in his chair. Despite his crisp and elegant uniform, he seemed fatigued. Lord Kelvin remained motionless at the emperor's right. The polished table reflected the gaslight and the four men around it.

Laurence Randolph, Lord Aden, crossed his arms thoughtfully. “Perhaps it would be best to wait until next year.”

“By all means!” Clark scowled savagely and refused to face the Equatorian lord. “They know we're coming. Let's give them another year to fortify.”

“Fortify?” Aden mocked. “Come now, Senator. Vampires don't fortify. They don't even use tools, according to all the reports I've read.”

With a cold glare, the American turned to him. “I didn't know you had purchased the Imperial War College, Lord Aden. I don't have time to lecture you on vampire warfare, but I'm telling you that giving the clans another year is a mistake of apocalyptic proportions. I've bloodied them. They obviously are not sitting idle hoping it will all blow over. Aside from shoring up their own defenses, they'll have a year to destroy the port facilities in New Orleans, Savannah, and Marseilles that we need to move our seaborne heavy equipment and massive troop deployments into North America and Europe. Without those ports, we'll have to drop men into vampire territory with limited artillery, and that's a recipe for disaster. Even better, maybe there will be a nice cold snap so the vampire packs can sail down to Gibraltar or Havana, or even here in Alexandria.”

Lord Aden prepared to speak again, but Clark leapt to his feet and slammed his fist on the table with a crack that echoed throughout the chamber. “No, dammit! We have no choice. War! Now!”

The emperor pursed his lips and looked down. His once-vigorous face looked aged, aided by his thinning hair and greying sideburns, and his left eye drooped from an old war wound.

The American pressed on. “Your daughter, sir, is standing in the way. The decision we face is not about a marriage or a young girl's emotional state. It's about the future of our people. I will win this war for you, and there is only one choice to be made.”

“What would you have, Senator?” Constantine murmured, and held up a silencing hand when Lord Kelvin stirred.

Clark said, “Schedule the wedding, Majesty. Now. It must happen within the week. We must start the offensive or a lot of boys will die who shouldn't have.”

Kelvin spoke quickly before the emperor could quiet him with another gesture. “That simply cannot happen, Your Majesty. The planning is so far behind, we—”

“Stop,” Emperor Constantine whispered. “The senator is correct. Adele must conform.”

Lord Aden stood. “Sire, if I may.”

“No,” said the emperor decisively. “Stay quiet, if you please, Lord Aden.” He settled his dark-rimmed eyes on the bearded American. “Two weeks, Senator? Is that a satisfactory time to you?”

Clark nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty. That'll do.”

Constantine lifted a finger at the prime minister. “See to it. I want a wedding in two weeks without fail.”

“As you will, Majesty.”

“Good. Senator, tomorrow we will begin to finalize the war plans so dispatches can be sent to America in due course.”

Clark saluted with one hand while resting the other on the hilt of his Fahrenheit saber.

Lord Kelvin dutifully collected his papers. “I will have Her Imperial Highness Princess Adele's household informed of the schedule.”

“No.” Emperor Constantine rose slowly. “I will tell her, personally. Good day, gentlemen.”

Kelvin and Aden bowed to the departing emperor. When the teak door clicked shut, Kelvin straightened to see Senator Clark's grinning face.

The American clapped a sturdy hand on Kelvin's narrow shoulders. “Book the hall, Mr. Prime Minister. I'll see you at the reception.” Clark's boisterous laughter echoed as he strode away.

The two Equatorian gentlemen watched after their esteemed guest, embarrassed by his behavior and sad that either of them had to witness such a barbaric performance. They paused a long moment in case he should stomp back in and make further pronouncements, but thankfully there was only the sound of fading footfalls.

Lord Aden cleared his throat. “Well, he's a hot one.”

“Yes. Bit too.” The prime minister adjusted his fez an iota.

“We tried our best.” Lord Aden shrugged. “No doubt the theater productions have riled him. It must be difficult to take second place to that heroic Greyfriar.”

“Yes, but instead of driving him away, it seems to have made him more eager to possess the princess and beat the Greyfriar out of her.”

Lord Aden rubbed his sharp jawline and took out his gold cigarette case, removing a hand-rolled Turkish cigarette. Kelvin politely declined. Aden lit the cigarette and blew aromatic smoke away from his friend. “What shall you do? How do you stop the wedding? How do you keep that American buffoon off the throne?”

“I cannot stop the wedding now. But I must insure against the insanity of Clark becoming emperor. That way, if something unfortunate should happen to Adele, Prince Simon would succeed to the throne. I fear he may be our best hope now. True Equatoria must be preserved.” Kelvin muttered as if he didn't know anyone else was in the room. “This war is such a terrible mistake. But I accept the burden of guiding the Empire past these dire times.”

“Come en garde in fifth position, please.”

“Just attack. I'm not in the mood for drills.”

Mamoru lifted his fencing mask and looked askance at Princess Adele, who stood five yards in front of him. They both wore traditional white fencing togs, but that was where the traditional fencing ended in this session. Adele stood fully open, with her foil pointed at the mat.

Mamoru was in classic stance. “Would you prefer a different weapon? Sabers? Épée? Or would you prefer kendo practice?”

“I would prefer you simply attack.”

“You are content with your grasp of fundamentals, then?”

“Yes.” But still Mamoru remained in his stance, so Adele charged. Mamoru dropped his mask and parried. He backpedaled as the princess lunged. She was fast, incredibly fast. But she had become predictable. Mamoru dueled a few swift exchanges until he knew her upcoming maneuver, and sure enough, Adele raised her arm to strike down on him. He easily slipped his blade along hers, deflecting her point and delivering a touch to her midsection. For good measure, the samurai drew back an inch, locked up her blade, and twisted. The foil flew from Adele's gloved right hand, somersaulted across the practice room, and clanged to the floor.

Adele held her arms out at her sides in exasperation. “That was uncalled-for. You had the touch already.”

The Japanese man pulled off his mask angrily. “If you'd rather not fence, I understand. But if you want me to teach you, then learn!”

“What does this foolishness matter?” The princess yanked the mask from her head. Her anger still burned hot from Clark's brutal words about culling innocents. She knew it was her anger fueling her sharp tone, but she couldn't stop it. “I need to know real fighting, not gentleman's play.”

“If that last bout had been real, you'd be defenseless and dead.”

“I need to know what I can do to vampires. We should be practicing that.”

“I have already explained it will take time. To rush now is foolishness, and could invite dangerous consequences. I will not risk your life.”

The young woman retrieved her foil, made a couple of angry swipes in the air, and replaced her headgear. “Again.”

“Come en garde in five.”

The princess stood in front of him, open stanced and waiting.

“This is not an alley in the Turkish Quarter!” Mamoru snapped.

“Nor a town home in Giza,” she pointed out. “I'm ready. Come again!”

Mamoru slid his mask over his face and came en garde. After a few seconds of blurring action, Adele was on the ground with the point of his foil against her back.

She rolled over and jumped to her feet. “Again.”

This time she was disarmed and the samurai crashed the bell of his sword against her mask, knocking her to her knees. She rose.

“Again.”

He stood motionless until she lunged. His blade barely flicked, parrying her point a few inches from his head, and he drove home, exploding against her shoulder until his foil bowed nearly in half. Adele jolted back and dropped hard to the mat.

Mamoru came en garde in five with leisurely deliberateness. “Again?”

The princess sat up slowly, rubbing her shoulder. “How can this help? Vampires don't fence. They don't follow rules.”

“You're not a vampire. Your world has rules. You must master the fundamentals first. Know the basics from top to bottom. Then, when your world becomes confused, you have a foundation to return to. Once you learn to come en garde in five, you can improvise as you wish, but you can always come back to it when you need it.”

Adele dropped her mask to the ground and scrubbed through her curly auburn hair. “I'm running out of time. The war is here!” Her anger dissipated suddenly as she saw his face harden. She wasn't angry with Mamoru, just herself and her inability to be effective, in any sense. “I'm sorry, Mamoru.”

“There is much to do, I grant you, Your Highness.” He reached down and brought her to her feet. “I am here to help you.”

“I know. Thank you. You're the only one who is helping. I shouldn't be taking my frustration out on you.”

He handed her a towel. “You have much on your mind. You are just beginning to discover your true nature, and you're impatient. Understandably.”

The door across the chamber flew open, and Adele's maid, Zarina, raced in. “Oh! Highness! There you are!”

“What is it?”