“Actually, yes. There are only two vampires there. Gareth and his aging chamberlain, who is far too old to threaten us. I have met them both. I trust them as you trust me.”
Shirazi and Hariri exchanged glances again. The pirate looked amused at the scowl on the soldier's stern face.
Adele sat forward. She could only hope she had made the two vampires appear as nonthreatening as possible. “You do trust me, don't you?”
“Indeed, Your Majesty,” Hariri replied effusively. “We've seen the miracles you've wrought. We don't understand them, but we have seen them.”
She turned to the silent captain. “And you?”
“I will obey you until the end. There is no doubt.” He clasped his hands behind his back and regarded her. “However, I wish we had a better sense of the endgame.”
“I know the endgame, Captain.” Adele leaned back and steepled her fingers with a knowing smile. “I intend to place a vampire of my choosing on the throne of Britain.”
GENERAL ANHALT RETURNED to Alexandria barely two weeks after he had departed to repair the disaster wrought by the loss of St. Etienne. Sleepless days and nights in Marseilles and Valence were spent rattling dispatches to all command units to shore up defenses across the Rhone Valley. However, to his great relief, the vampire packs only probed southward with some hesitation. There was no full-scale counteroffensive, perhaps due to the warming spring weather, perhaps due to some other unknowable reason deep within the arcane alleys of the vampire command structure.
Now, Anhalt landed back at Pharos One, where a waiting staff officer named Major Naroyan fell into step and briefed him on the newest crisis, news of which had come to him on the continent by cable—Senator Clark was in Alexandria again.
“You made extraordinary time across the Mediterranean, Sirdar,” the major said.
Anhalt accepted a leather pouch of dispatches. “Has Her Majesty seen the senator yet?”
“The empress is not in residence, sir.”
“She's not?” The general looked up in alarm with visions of Mamoru's desperate revenge. He snapped, “Where is she?”
Major Naroyan gave a surprised look. “I assumed you knew, sir. There is a private message in the pouch. A copy was sent to you in Europe over a week ago.”
The general's breath quickened, although he worked to appear calm. He found a heavy sheet of Adele's stationery, sealed. The copy must have passed him in transit. He stopped walking and worked through the wax seal with his thumb, then eagerly read the message:
My Dear Anhalt, I am departing Alexandria. Again, I know. Don't fear. I am well. I have immediate business and, when concluded, I shall return. Your man, Capt. Shirazi, is at my side with my ever-faithful Harmattan. Officially, I am in Persia mourning Simon. Unofficially, trust that I can handle myself. Yours, Adele.
He folded the sheet several times and gave a relieved sigh. No matter what dire circumstance Adele was likely thrusting herself into, at least it was of her own doing. She was not the victim of disturbed Mamoru or vile Cesare. And perhaps she was safer out of Alexandria for now.
Anhalt asked, “Where is Senator Clark?”
“I believe he said he would be stretching his legs, sir.”
Toward the western tip of the Ras el-Tin peninsula was the Cape Polo Grounds. Polo was a popular sport across much of Equatoria, and this was only one of many fields in Alexandria where league play thrived. The Cape was a grand field where officers and soldiers often drilled and played. The imperial stables were on the same grounds, and parades of prime horseflesh were always to be seen.
As Anhalt stepped down from the creaking brougham and walked to the edge of the grass, he noted a lone figure galloping on a large white stallion. The man wore a blue tunic and pants with a red stripe. His white wide-brimmed hat shaded his face, but the figure of Senator Clark was instantly recognizable to any who had once gazed upon him. And Anhalt had to admit begrudgingly that the man sat a horse well.
A collection of American Rangers lounged nearby under a tent, drinking bottles of beer from iced buckets. The general scanned the crowd under the shade of the wind-rippled tent, searching for his particular friend, Major Stoddard, but didn't see him. He strode toward the Americans, who came to easy attention with casual salutes. Anhalt recognized a few of the faces from the senator's troopers who came to Equatoria last year for the ill-fated wedding.
One of the familiar faces smiled. “Good afternoon, Colonel Anhalt. Oh, pardon me, General Anhalt. We met briefly when we were here last year.”
“I recall. Good afternoon, Captain Madura. Welcome back to Equatoria.”
The young officer was obviously pleased to be remembered by the Equatorian supreme commander. “Thank you, sir. We're surprised to be back.” There was a round of good-natured laughter.