The Perilous Sea (32 page)

Iolanthe, even with her headache from having been vaulted nearly a hundred fifty miles—though split into three segments—was enchanted. “It's a lovely place.”

Titus gave her another dose of vaulting aid. “The concierge below is under the impression that there are several people in the family—an uncle, and a niece and a nephew who are twins. So she will not be surprised to see either a young man or a young woman come by—or an older man.”

He opened a drawer and pulled out cases of calling cards for Mr. Rupert Franklin, Mr. Arthur Franklin, and Miss Adelia Franklin. “The bakery around the corner is quite good. The brasserie likewise. Three times a week there is a market on the square down the road. And the Franklin family has an account with the Banque de Paris that should last you years.”

“So this is what you have been doing in Paris,” Iolanthe said softly, more than a little bowled over by everything he had done.

“Part of it.”

“Part of it? What was the other part, then?”

He led them down a corridor toward another room. It had been set up with a large desk at the center, and shelves on the walls. Iolanthe recognized some of the equipment on the desk as having come from the laboratory.

“Once I realized that your memories might not resurface again, I wanted to protect you against damages brought on by permanent suppression. Which meant I had to find a way to bring back your memories.

“I decided to duplicate the kind of protection that had been placed on me. If someone tampers with my memory, and someone who meets the contact-requisite threshold still could, my memory will recover within weeks, if not days. But some of the ingredients required for the potion base do not travel well—they must be used very fresh, and they lose their effectiveness if they are vaulted.

“So I needed to set up a temporary laboratory here in Paris—it is the nearest city with a master mage botanist who can supply my needs. And while I looked for a suitable location, I decided that I might as well make it a place where the two of you can live together comfortably, after you are reunited.”

Master Haywood bowed deeply. Iolanthe did nothing—she didn't know what to do.

Titus waved them toward the desk. “Anyway, I did not tell you earlier because I did not have the potion base ready yet and I did not want you to think I was making it easier for you to leave Eton. I mean—” He shrugged. “You know what I mean.”

He brought out two glasses and poured them each half-full from a pitcher that he said contained seawater. “It needs water from the first ocean in which you had set foot—which I assume is the Atlantic for the two of you. And then you must add three drops of your own blood, and three drops of voluntarily given blood from someone who loves you. Would you mind giving us some fire, Miss Seabourne?”

She called forth a small sphere of flame.

The prince opened his pocketknife, passed the blade through the fire, and handed it to Iolanthe. She let fall three drops of blood into each glass, passed the knife through the fire again, and gave it to Master Haywood.

When Master Haywood had squeezed three drops of his blood into one glass and was about to do the same for the second glass, the prince stopped him. “I would like to have the honor for Miss Seabourne's potion.”

Blood from someone who loves you
.

Master Haywood glanced at Iolanthe, not so much shocked as thoughtful.

Now Titus brought out a vial of gray powder, divided it between the glasses, and stirred until the potion turned bright and golden.

It tasted of sunlight and chamomile tea.

Master Haywood again bowed deeply to Titus, who took him to yet another room and showed him where a supply of cash was kept. “This should last you until you can go to the bank. You also have credit at most of the nearby shops, if you would care to use that.”

He turned to Iolanthe. “Almost time for another blasted Absence at school. We had better head back.”

“Head count,” Iolanthe explained to Master Haywood. “They are always counting the boys.”

“But I haven't heard your story yet,” Master Haywood protested.

“Another day,” she said, hugging him. “I will come and see you as often as I can.”

Back in her room at Mrs. Dawlish's, Titus turned to her and said, “These are for you.”

“These” were calling cards for A. G. Fairfax, of Low Creek Ranch, Wyoming Territory.

“Before you leave Mrs. Dawlish's, give these cards to your friends. When they write to this address, the letters will go to the safe house. And the letters you send out from the safe house will reach them as if having come all the way from the American West.”

“Thank you.” More words wouldn't express her feelings better.

“No need,” he answered softly. “It is a compulsion on my part to give you everything, while I still can.”

CHAPTER
29

The Sahara Desert

THE NEWCOMER WAS UNBELIEVABLY FAST
on his carpet. Titus had to put in real effort to not fall more than a body length behind.

And whereas Titus set his carpet on an approximately ten-degree angle, with the front of the carpet rolled underneath, the newcomer's carpet was tilted at an incline of at least thirty degrees, with two creases in the body so that in profile it looked like an elongated, backward Z.

A dragon could keep its own course, but a carpet usually relied on the distribution of the rider's weight for directions. A new rider, while learning, could accidently set the carpet into a tailspin by doing nothing more than trying to look over a shoulder. This young man, however, casually turned around, one hand holding the carpet to its course, the other raised in spell-casting.

Distance spell-casting—as the nearest pursuers were still miles behind—and with amazing accuracy. The boy was a sniper to behold.

Titus turned to Fairfax, who was still gaping at the newcomer, and said, “Is there any chance
he
is your admirer?”

At his question, she squinted. “Probably not. Since he already came off his carpet to get us onto ours, he could have easily given me a kiss. But he just shoved me onto the carpet like a sack of potatoes.”

“But what if he is?”

“Hmm.” Her tone turned teasing. “Are you asking me to make a choice right now between the two of you?”

“Now you will choose me, of course. But what about after you remember?” The question made him more nervous than he cared to admit.

“Can't you do something about the armored chariots, Fairfax?” shouted the subject of their discussion. “They are closing in fast.”

“All right!” she shouted back. “I'll try.”

Then, into Titus's ear, “I don't think he even knows—or cares—that I'm a girl.”

Titus had to agree with her on that account—and he was glad for it.

“Hold the carpet steady,” she told him, and turned halfway around.

After a minute or so, she lay back down. “I can't destabilize the armored chariots. Let me try something else. Hold on tight!”

The last few words were shouted for the other boy to hear. A second later, a tailwind very nearly blew Titus off the carpet altogether. Both the carpets accelerated as if they had been set on rockets. And behind them, barely visible in the dark of the night, sand rose like a curtain, obscuring them from the view of the Atlanteans.

 

The other boy signaled for them to descend. “My carpet has almost reached the limits of its range.”

Once a carpet neared the limits of its flight range, it had to be set down, or it would drop out of the sky like a rock. And once on the ground, it needed some time before it could take to the air again.

“Would you like some water?” asked Fairfax. The sphere of water she had summoned shimmered just barely under the starlight.

The boy held out a canteen. “Yes, I would, thank you.”

“Some food or a heat sheet?” asked Titus, placing his arm around Fairfax's shoulder.

If the boy was her admirer, then he ought to either come forward to contest her affections or relinquish them forever.

The boy looked at them a moment, with neither dismay nor jealousy, but something rather like wonder. “No, thank you. These clothes are meant for the desert and water is all I need.”

A small silence fell. Titus was just about to tell the boy that they had no idea who he was when he spoke again.

“The pendant was so cold at the beginning I had to put it away from my person. And since I wasn't looking for you specifically, but just traveling to meet my brother, I didn't make it a point to check. Imagine my surprise when I came across it about noon and it was almost lukewarm.

“I had a two-way notebook on me so I contacted my brother and—his fiancée. They wrote back immediately saying phoenix beacons had been seen in the desert a few nights before, and their scouts were already on the lookout for you. Lo and behold, a few hours later you walked into an oasis leading a sand wyvern.”

Titus's jaw dropped. “Those caravanists, they were mages?”

“They most certainly were.”

“But one fainted and two reached for their rifles when they saw the sand wyvern.”

“It's a good policy for at least one member of the group to pretend to fall unconscious at a mage sighting. And I always think the rifles are a touch of genius—any time you see someone holding a firearm, your instinct is to dismiss that person as a nonmage.”

“I must remember that,” murmured Fairfax.

“And not only were the caravanists mages, the oasis itself is a translocator,” said the boy with obvious pride. “We have built three like it. Atlantis does not pay much attention to nonmages and their camels huddled around a piddly hole in the ground. It allows for our scouts to move quite freely around the desert.

“Anyway, the scouts recognized you and Fairfax. They reported back. The choice was made to take any measure necessary to keep you out of Atlantis's hands. That was why, when they saw a large contingent of beasts and armored chariots leaving the base, they decided to attack the base to force the Atlanteans to return and defend their installation.”

“Why did your friends decide to use bewitched spears?” asked Fairfax.

“What?”

Fairfax turned to Titus. “I thought you said those who helped us used bewitched spears.”

“We have had to use quite a few unorthodox methods, but not bewitched spears,” said the boy. “We are not that desperate yet.”

“The Atlanteans who were literally on top of us were not going to head back to the base to help. They had their orders to hunt us down and they were going to obey those orders until they heard otherwise,” Titus told the boy. “I do not know what would have happened if that thicket of bewitched spears had not arrived in time to force them to leave.”

“That's strange. I don't know of any rebel groups that use antique weaponry. Is there anything else you can tell me about them, prince?”

Fairfax was just about to refill the boy's canteen again. The stream of water she aimed at it missed altogether, landing with a splat in the sand.

Titus too felt as if the ground had shifted underneath his feet. “Did you call me prince?”

The boy sounded taken aback. “My apologies, Your Highness. At school we did not closely observe protocol. But I will be sure to accord you all the respect due the Master of the Domain.”

The Master of the Domain
.

He gripped Fairfax's arm, not sure whether he could even understand those words.

Or whether he wanted to.

The boy scanned the sky. “Night patrol from the base—excellent. I can hitch a ride with them and we don't have to wait until my carpet is ready again.”

“You are sure we can trust them?” asked Fairfax.

He folded his carpet, then rolled it into a tight tube and fitted it into a slender bag that he strapped diagonally across his back. “They are Amara's cousins, so yes, I'm quite certain they are not Atlanteans masquerading as rebels.”

When the rebels landed, the boy presented the two women as Ishana and Shulini. When it came time to give Fairfax's name, he asked her, “Should I introduce you as Fairfax, or by your real name?”

Fairfax hesitated. “My real name.”

She sounded almost afraid. Titus
felt
afraid. Would learning her true identity be as unhappy an experience for her as learning his had been for him?

“Iolanthe Seabourne,” said the boy.

Iolanthe Seabourne—a name of both structure and strength, yet one that brought no recognition, from either of them. She took his hand. She was relieved, he could tell. But mixed in her relief was perhaps also a slight disappointment that she remained unclear on who she was.

“Pleased to meet you,” said Titus to Ishana and Shulini.

The women inclined their heads respectfully. “A pleasure to meet Your Highness again,” said Ishana. And then to Fairfax. “We saw you earlier too, but you were asleep on the back of the sand wyvern.”