Riveted (37 page)

“This doesn’t have to be a lost opportunity,” she said. “Perhaps you can conduct part of your survey while you’re here.”

“No. The only thing I care about is getting you away from here.” He met her eyes again, his expression focused, intense. “I will do anything to keep you safe.
Anything.
For now, he wants me to help his father, and he was smart enough not to threaten you. But if you feel threatened for even a second, it’s over. I’ll rip his head off, and face whatever comes next.”

Which would probably be di Fiore’s guards. Annika glanced back, saw his cold, assessing gaze fixed on them. A shiver raced over her skin. She quickly looked ahead again.

The airship gained altitude, giving her a better view of the glacier ahead. Beyond the next rise, an enormous balloon sat on the glacier, as if a giant’s airship had been trapped beneath the ice. Annika stared at the long envelope, mouth open. The balloon couldn’t be as large as it appeared…but the whale shouldn’t have been, either.

It was oddly shaped, flatter toward the bottom. The gas inside the metal fabric must have been cold, but the shape of the balloon appeared heavier than it should have if filled with hydrogen—or even with natural air. Pipes led to the bottom of the balloon.

David pushed his scarf down, inhaled. “Do you smell that?”

A familiar pungent odor. “Like the mudpots, or the hot springs.”

“Sulphur.”

On
Phatéon
, Komlan had said that di Fiore’s men were mining for that mineral. “Are they drilling through the ice, then?”

They were obviously doing something. Annika’s gaze followed the pipes south, where a tall structure rose. The steel framework resembled a tower of scaffolding. The tower supported a large steel capsule, long and smooth, rounded on each end.

Annika squinted across the distance, but couldn’t make sense of the object at the top. “Is that a submersible?”

The capsule resembled one, though it stood vertically rather than lengthwise. Annika couldn’t imagine why they’d need a submersible on the ice…though David had said that water was trapped below.

He shook his head. “I don’t see any propellers—but there’s a borehole in the ice beneath the tower.”

So they
had
drilled through the ice. Steam drifted around the base of the tower, rising from the hole. “How deep does it go?”

“God knows. Look there, Annika.”

To the north. A troll was crossing the ice—not Austra Longears, but an identical machine. “Where is it going?”

“There.” David pointed directly ahead. “A camp.”

Annika could see men moving about and another troll, but expecting buildings similar to the rail camp’s, she didn’t immediately spot them—only mounds of snow that formed long, regular shapes, but weren’t tall enough for bunkhouses. Yet they were, she realized. Instead of building on top of the ice, they’d cut down into it. She was looking at peaked roofs with eaves almost flush with the ground.

Though the three-sided layout was similar to the rail camp’s, now she saw that it was much more extensive. Smaller buildings with roofs that were hardly more than a bump sat behind longer ones. Steam rose from one small building, and the snow over its roof appeared thinner, the surface icier. A furnace chamber, perhaps, that heated the other buildings. Good. If she ever needed a distraction, a furnace could usually provide a deadly one.

And even better, in the clearing sat a means of escape—several means, in fact, in the form of two-seater balloons. Several of them possessed engines. Those would be too loud, and they would take too long to rise into the air. But at least one was pedal-powered—that would be quiet. She and David could climb into the seats and be on their way within seconds. Flying, they could hurry to Vik without worrying about crevasses and dogs. With a few hours’ head start, a two-seater could reach the town before the airship.

She quickly forced her gaze away from it. No need to alert di Fiore to her interest in the machine. She and David would need to figure out a way past the guards, first.

Di Fiore must already expect that
someone
might want to escape. Four guards stood at the corners of the snowy clearing. Dogs wouldn’t attack them here, and no one could approach the camp without being noticed, so those guards must have been appointed to protect di Fiore and the equipment from people who were working here.

David must have been thinking the same. “The guards,” he said quietly, and she nodded.

“We’ll have to wait.” But at least there was hope.

The ferry cruiser’s engine quieted. Momentum carried them over the camp, where the guards below secured the tether line.

Di Fiore met them at the cargo lift. “Mr. Kentewess, I know that I have acted in a high-handed manner. Please understand, this is for my father. What the world took away from a brilliant man, I will give back. My father spent years in that insanitarium, with his hands restrained—but his mind wasn’t. His dreams were the only freedom he had. Now I will be his hands, and I will fulfill those dreams at any cost. Do you understand?”

“We understand. We’ve already seen the cost that people pay for it,” David said.

Di Fiore nodded, and continued on as if David’s only response had been agreement. “My father has suffered from doubt. You
will not
doubt him, no matter how outlandish you believe his ideas might be. I will not see him hurt in any way. You will never say a word of your injuries, or the loss of your mother, except in how you are grateful for what happened to her, and how the pain you suffered after her death made you a better man.”

David’s jaw turned to stone, the edges of his lips white. She’d never seen him truly angry before. He was now. Her hand tightened on his. Annika couldn’t hold him back, but she could remind him that he wasn’t alone in this.

“Then I’ll say nothing at all.” It emerged through gritted teeth.

“That is acceptable, too. He can see for himself that you’re healthy, strong. The scars can’t be helped, but you have a woman with you, so not everyone is repulsed by them. He’ll believe that you live a full life.”

Annika would kill him herself. This time, David’s hand tightened on hers. The cargo lift jolted into motion.

His voice rising over the clattering chains, Di Fiore continued, “And if any of those topics arise, whether you’ve said anything or
not, the primary message will be: You’ve forgiven him. In that, I will tolerate no deviation.”

“I can forgive Inoka Mountain,” David said. “That was an accident. But I can’t forgive Heimaey or the whale. Those women and sailors were deliberately murdered.”

The other man nodded. “And my father isn’t responsible. As I said, I am his hands—and he doesn’t have to know how I’ve procured everything he needs. Nor will you tell him. Such knowledge would place a great burden on him, and he already carries enough.”

But di Fiore obviously bore them well. He spoke of murder as if discussing the weather, with barely a change in his mild expressions. No doubt he would kill them as easily if they upset his father.

The platform reached the clearing. They stepped off onto well-packed snow. A small dark-haired boy raced away from one of the houses, laughing and with his arms extended. Di Fiore’s face changed, lit by sudden delight and a warm smile. He swept the boy up, swung him in a quick circle. Wild giggles followed.

Di Fiore set the boy on his feet again, crouched. “Well, now. Did you miss me? I see that you’ve escaped without your coat again.”

He tugged on the hem of the boy’s small wool pullover. Annika narrowed her eyes, looked closer. His blue pullover had been woven in a familiar pattern, much like the ganseys that the women in Hannasvik wore on their fishing boats. The pullovers were common among fishermen, but she wouldn’t expect to see one here—and every pattern was distinctive. Perhaps this one had been made by someone who hailed from the same location as one of the original Englishwomen.

Perhaps. But she doubted it.

Dread filled her again. She’d managed to convince herself that di Fiore hadn’t found her people, but obviously someone in his camp had stumbled across more than trolls.

Di Fiore pushed the hair from the boy’s flushed face. “Now, Olaf, come and meet the man who is going to help your father.”

Olaf looked over at David. His dark eyes widened and he cringed back, hiding his round face against di Fiore’s chest.

Di Fiore firmly turned the boy around. “No, Olaf. Those are only scars, and you mustn’t be frightened of them. Say, ‘I am very pleased to meet you, Mr. Kentewess.’”

The boy obediently mumbled the words, his gaze fixed on his boots. Oh, but it was excruciating, standing through this. Beside her, David wore his weary smile. A flush darkened his jaw. He let go of her hand.

Annika didn’t know whether to take it again, or whether to let him be. But she’d rather be wrong than make him suffer through this exercise alone. She threaded her fingers through his.

He glanced down at her, and his smile changed, warmed.

“And now say, ‘I am pleased to meet you, Miss Fridas—’”

“Annika!”

The shout came from across the clearing. Heart pounding, Annika looked up. Källa stood in front of a snow-covered roof, staring at her, holding a boy’s coat, her sword strapped across her back. Disbelief had widened her dark eyes. Her mouth hung open, but now it widened into a smile, then a whoop of laughter.

“Do you see?” di Fiore said. “That
is
interesting.”

On long legs, Källa crossed the snow at a run and engulfed Annika in a hug, lifting her off the ground, then swinging her around as di Fiore had done with the boy. She threw her head back as she laughed, her long braid winding into the basket of her fur-lined hood.

“Oh, Annika.” Källa finally set her down, nearly squeezed the guts from her with another hug. “What are you doing here?”

Uncertain how to answer that in front of di Fiore, she shook her head. “I would ask the same of you.”

“For the same reason, I imagine. Paolo’s work is so amazing, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Though I’m not sure what it is yet. I’ve only seen a giant whale.”

“A whale?” Källa shook her head, laughing. “You have not changed a bit. Though I—” She broke off suddenly, turned and scooped up the boy. She faced Annika again, spoke formally in Norse. “My son, Olaf. Olaf, this is your aunt, Annika.”

Some part of her had already put those pieces together—but Annika hadn’t wanted to, knowing who the father must be. But she forced that away. “We are well met, Olaf Källasdottor.”

“Källasson,” her sister corrected with a grin. Her eyes narrowed slightly when Lorenzo said softly behind her, “Di Fiore.”

Olaf hid his face in Källa’s neck. His mother’s smile returned.

“He’s very shy. He’s much like you in many ways, Annika.”

“How old is he?”

“Two years.”

And Lorenzo di Fiore was the father. This time, she couldn’t push that realization away. Annika stepped back, found David’s hand again, welcomed the warm support. She’d never felt so off-kilter. Källa looked to David, then to Annika’s face again.

Källa’s feet shifted—preparing to attack, to defend. Her voice remained pleasant. “Are you with this man?”

“Yes.”

Di Fiore came to Källa’s side. “Mr. Kentewess is a vulcanologist with the Scientific Society of New Leiden. He’ll be assisting my father.”

“Mr. Kentewess.” Källa nodded a greeting to him, then met Annika’s gaze again with a question in her eyes. “I can’t believe you stepped a foot away from home.”

That was not what she meant. Källa knew that Annika had traveled all over Iceland in her troll. Her sister wondered how she’d come to be with David.

“I left home, searching for you.”

“What for?” Puzzlement creased her brow, then she looked up as the cargo lift rattled, began to rise. “You are not waiting for your things? Well, let us go inside, then. You can tell me there.”

She started back across the clearing. Annika followed, holding David’s hand. His fingers tightened on hers. She glanced up, saw his concerned gaze on her.

“All right?” he whispered.

Annika lifted her shoulders. What should she feel? Happy that she’d found her sister, yes. But to find her here with Lorenzo? Everything was turned about. Did he keep Källa here under some threat? Annika hadn’t missed the wariness in her posture, the hint of temper when Lorenzo had given Olaf his name. But that was Källa the Shieldmaiden, always watchful, possessive—and easy to anger.

Annika didn’t know what to tell him—and then she lost the opportunity. Her mouth closed as di Fiore fell into step beside David.

“Where is my father, Källa?”

“In his laboratory.” She glanced over her shoulder. “He has been testing the suit since last night. I finally got him to sleep a few hours this morning.”

She led them down steps made from steel grating, much like the stairs in the whale’s hold. They entered a tunnel made from snow bricks that arched over their heads in a smooth curve. The passageway opened into a hearth chamber with a wooden floor, and walls made from blocks of blue glacial ice. Steel struts supported a peaked tin ceiling that must have been strong enough to bear the weight of the snow Annika had seen from above. Despite being surrounded by ice and snow, the chamber was cool, not cold. A pullover like the boy’s would keep anyone inside warm and comfortable.

A wooden table claimed the center of the chamber. A cast-iron stove stood away from the ice walls, a ventilation pipe rising through
the ceiling. The opposite end of the chamber opened to another snow tunnel.

Di Fiore started toward it. “I’ll take Kentewess to meet my father while you and your sister reacquaint yourselves.”

Annika glanced up at David. With a gentle squeeze of his fingers, he let her go and followed di Fiore. Heart thumping, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the sense that this must all be a terrible dream, Annika watched him disappear into the tunnel.

“All of these living quarters are linked—and there’s another system of living chambers and tunnels for the laborers.” Källa sat Olaf on the table and took the chair in front of him, rubbing her face into his belly before starting a game of clapping his hands. She spoke over his giggles. “Why are you here, Annika?”