“Thank you, Senator. We'll need to be under way very soon. We have a tight schedule.”
ADELE HELD FAST to Edinburgh's rail as the ship descended with terrifying swiftness to her namesake below.
We're not crashing, she repeated to herself. Hariri was thoroughly enjoying flexing his remarkable mariner skills, which ought to have calmed her, but didn't. He barked orders, his robe flapping wildly in the winds. Her own heavy coat thumped hard against her calves, but she was trying to keep her stomach in place and the scream in her throat.
If Greyfriar were here, he'd be laughing and enjoying the wild ride. The thought of seeing him again banished some of Adele's fear, and she clung to that thought as the clouds parted and the ground could be seen rushing toward them.
Hariri shouted something that was whipped away by the wind, but the men around him heard and the ship's plummet slowed markedly. Timbers creaked and sails billowed, and soon they were skimming the treetops. Scattered leaves found their way onto the deck, and the air smelled faintly of heather.
As the clouds thinned, Adele saw the grey city of Edinburgh with its winding Old Town and gridlike northern suburbs. And above it all, the sprawling castle perched on its volcanic peak. Adele was overwhelmed by memories of cold rain and warm fires. She recalled the effort Gareth expended to make her welcome here despite her best efforts to remain bitter and infuriated. It was in those days she had begun to see the man she now loved with the amazing revelation of his secret library and watching his struggle to write. She remembered the plain simplicity of the wonderful friendship of Morgana, a servant in the castle, who didn't know or care if Adele was an empress or a scrubwoman. And, of course, it was here she had first encountered Pet. The biting wet wind splashed her face and made her happy.
The ship slowed its descent, and airmen took in sail as the vessel spiraled down to the castle. Lookouts maintained a watch in case vampires should appear, despite Adele's assurances that there were only two here. When the brig drifted across the edge of the battlements, heavy mooring anchors went over the side and scraped into the stone. The ship lurched to a halt. Men vaulted the rails to fix grapples so crew at the capstans could winch the wooden hull down to touch the castle's edge.
The gangway slammed down and the Harmattan rushed ashore, clutching their rifles, eyes wary under their helmets. Adele followed leisurely, carrying her bag and her cat. She stopped at the battlements to look over the city. Plumes of lovely wood smoke curled into the air. She could see people stopped in the street, staring up at the airship moored to the castle. Crowds were beginning to grow all around the base of Castle Hill with every second.
Captain Shirazi stood at her shoulder. “Look at that mob forming all around us. We'll need to disperse them before they can cause trouble.”
She laid a hand on his arm and shook her head. “Easy, Captain. There is no threat from them. The people here are harmless, I assure you.”
“They could be Undead,” was his reply.
He was right, of course, she realized with a shock. Cesare could have infiltrated Gareth's home with his cultists. However, they would be aimed at Gareth. They would have no contingency for the arrival of this strange group of humans, and it would take too long for anyone to make it back to London for new orders. As brilliant as Cesare could be, he would never assume Adele would come back to Scotland. And the fear of Undead couldn't distract her from her primary mission: saving Gareth.
He still had not appeared despite the arrival of the airship and soldiers. Adele grew more anxious that she was too late, suddenly envisioning Gareth lying dead on the floor by Nzingu's knife. Pressing through the shoulders of the men ahead of her, she rushed into a courtyard of grey stone buildings, aiming for one in particular. Adele shoved open a heavy door, and the entrance yawned into darkness.
“Is anyone home?” she shouted.
“Adele?” A solitary figure appeared at the distant end of the hall. His kilt flapped in the harsh wind that had followed the open door. He bobbed his head in confusion. “So that is your airship. I thought we were under attack.”
“Baudoin,” she exhaled in relief. “It's a pleasure to see you again.” She hoped her men mistook her familiar greeting as diplomacy rather than the truth. His presence made everything seem normal. She had to fight the impulse to hug him. “These men are mine. They mean you no harm.”
The castle's chamberlain didn't reciprocate her greeting. She was sure the last thing he expected or wanted was her arrival.
“Is this the frail aged retainer you mentioned?” Shirazi sneered.
Baudoin moved slowly forward and spared the captain not even a glance, keeping his attention on Adele.