“Coal,” the Undead said with a conceited smile. He enjoyed parading his knowledge of the great court in London in front of these southerners. “Cesare arranged for this man to extract coal from clan territories. I've heard His Highness speak of it. In fact, Prince Cesare's arrangement with the clans on the continent for this human to take coal was one of the first elements of the Grand Coalition.”
There was a long silence until Anhalt said, “Your Majesty, we must proceed cautiously with this. Lord Aden is popular with the old powers of the capital.”
“Yes, yes, General. I know all that. Trust me to act in my usual thoughtful and diplomatic manner.”
Anhalt took a frightened breath.
“What are you going to do?” Greyfriar asked.
Adele cleared her throat demurely and started for the door. “I'm going to take a company of soldiers and pay His Lordship a social call.”
Montrose sat up with a rattle of chains, reaching for Adele. “You promised! Kill me!”
Greyfriar smashed a hand against the prisoner's chest and slammed him back into the cot. “Welcome to the human race.”
The gatekeeper at Lord Aden's mansion was no doubt surprised to hear a carriage roll to a stop on the street at three in the morning. Roused from his comfortable cot in the gatehouse and wearing a liveried cloak, he trundled into the blustery night. He was taken aback to see a soldier standing on the other side of the wrought-iron gate backed by a company of mounted lancers in their smart dark green tunics with brass buttons and white trousers with high black boots. Their lances, held straight like fence posts, sported imperial pennants whipping in the wind, and atop their heads were dress turbans. Then, amidst the shuffling hooves, he noted with shock a black brougham with an imperial crest emblazoned on the door.
“Open the gate,” the soldier commanded. “Her Imperial Majesty to see Lord Aden.”
The gatekeeper stared dumb for a moment, then stammered, “It's late.”
“Open this gate, damn you! Or we'll take it down!”
The gatekeeper jumped with shock and yanked a ring of keys from his waistcoat. Unlocking the gate, he drew it open. The soldier leapt onto the rear of the carriage as ten lancers trooped in, two abreast on horses prancing in unison, followed by the brougham, and then another ten soldiers in red jackets and khaki helmets, all staring straight ahead. As the dour parade clattered up the macadam drive between gas lamps toward the gloomy house, the gatekeeper scampered for his booth, where he scrawled a note with an unsteady hand. He stuffed it into a cylinder and let the pneumatic tube propel it ahead of the approaching riders.
The company drew to a practiced halt before the shadowy portico of the sprawling mansion. Captain Shirazi turned from his spot on the carriage and barked orders to his mounted White Guard, who all slipped from their saddles and withdrew carbines from scabbards. They fanned out around the brougham, rifles at the ready. Shirazi jumped down and opened the carriage door. Greyfriar leapt out, with a hand on the hilt of his rapier, and preceded Empress Adele quickly up the steps to the front door.
The captain was soon at her side and insistently rapped the heavy brass knocker. Adele was calm and collected, her hair covered by a silk scarf, and dressed in a fashionably long navy skirt and heavy topcoat. Shirazi slammed the knocker again, and through the opaque glass in the door, a faint light appeared wavering inside the house. It grew brighter until finally the sound of bolts being thrown back came from the other side.
A blinking face appeared. The butler had done a creditable job of rapid preparation, but he still looked somewhat undone and confused. His thin white hair was askew, and his bleary eyes widened in astonishment at the figure of the empress a mere two feet away.
Shirazi said, “Her Imperial Majesty to call on Lord Aden. Is His Lordship at home?”
“Um.” The butler straightened out of habit. “He is, ma'am.” Then he bowed deeply toward Adele. “He is abed, I fear. But won't you come in and I will rouse him.”
Adele swept past the butler, nodding politely. Greyfriar followed her, and then Shirazi stepped in. The servant closed the door as an older woman, the chief maid, scurried into view with a terrified look on her face. The butler glanced at her.
“Mrs. Torrialba, ready the staff, if you please. We will be serving breakfast to the empress and her guests.”
“Oh no, please,” Adele said to the shell-shocked servants. “We are not here for a social call. If you will simply tell His Lordship we are here, that will suffice.” She turned to Shirazi. “Unless you and your men would care for breakfast, Captain?”
He remained stone-faced, refusing to acknowledge her playful comment. “No, thank you, ma'am.”