Wren the Fox Witch (Europa #3: A Dark Fantasy) (24 page)

“A little.” She glanced upward, her fox ears twitching. “Do you know what that bell ringing means? It’s been going on forever.”

Tycho started.

The alarm! Damn it!

“It’s an alarm. The Turks. I need to, I should be…” He stood up and glanced at the stairs, but he didn’t move.

“It’s all right, if you need to go, you should go. I’ll stay here with her,” Wren said. “Just, can you come over here for a second?”

He blinked. “All right.” He crossed the carpets and knelt beside her, glancing at the snoring old witch in front of them.

She took his hand and he felt a warm flush race from his arm across his chest and into his face.

“Last night was a bad night,” she said.

“Yes, it was,” he said.

“It’s probably going to be a bad day, too.” She squeezed his hand.

“Maybe.”

She leaned down and kissed him, pressing her warm, soft lips to his mouth and slipping her hand back through his hair to hold him there. Tycho closed his eyes and reveled in the gentle caresses of her lips and tongue against his own. He felt his heart quicken and his manhood rising as he put his hands on her cheeks, feeling the warmth and softness of her skin.

When she pulled away, he wasn’t ready for it to end, not nearly.

“There,” she said. “Now today won’t be
all
bad.” And she smiled.

He smiled back, and nodded.

I have to go. Damn the world for making me go.

Tycho squeezed her hand as he stood up. “I have to go, but, as soon as I can, I’ll come back, straight away, I promise.”

She nodded, still smiling. She bit her lip.

He backed away slowly, nearly stumbled, then turned and hurried to the stairs. “I’ll be back soon!”

If he climbed the stairs to the ground floor, he had no memory of it. The next thing he knew, he was jogging across the courtyard in search of a carriage and trying to calm the racing of his heart.

She kissed me.

She did.

She…

“You there!” he called to a very young stable boy he recognized. “I need a carriage.”

The little boy looked lost and sick. “Sorry sir, I’m not allowed to hitch the horses yet.”

“Then just give me a horse.” Tycho paused. “A small one.”

A few minutes later he was sitting on large pony and riding hard toward the south corner of the palace. The pony’s hooves clattered on the paved walkways around the Church of Saint Irene and then clattered on the gravel paths that wove through the gardens behind the church and across the park as he raced toward the watch tower. The ringing of the alarm bell was less urgent now, slower and with the occasional long pause between strikes.

Whoever they are, it sounds like their arms are getting tired.

Tycho rode up to the iron door at the base of the tower where he found no one to greet him, and he left the pony alone as he rushed inside and climbed the rattling iron steps to the upper level. At the top of the stair he found a lone young man leaning against an open window frame facing out onto the southern Sea of Marmara. His whole body was slumped against the wall, even his head leaning against the cold stone, all but his right hand which was raised to grasp the striker of the bell just beside the window and was ringing, ringing, ringing with what little strength was left in his shoulder.

Where the devil is Lycus? Why haven’t they come yet?

Tycho touched the young soldier’s elbow. “Private?”

The youth turned sharply, and then looked down. “Oh God, major, you scared me. I mean, sorry, sir. I didn’t see you. I mean, sorry. Sir.” His trembling hand fell away from the bell, which fell mercifully silent.

“It’s fine, private. We’ve all had a hell of a night. You’re not the only one.” Tycho rose up on the tips of his toes to peer out the window at the sea. “Why did you ring the alarm? What did you see out there?”

“Oh, it’s not out there.” The youth pointed at the sky. “It’s up there.”

Tycho tilted his head back and scanned the rippling layers of gray clouds. “What’s up there? What am I supposed to be… Oh.”

Low in the southern sky he saw three black dots. They hovered there, never flying any higher or lower, never wavering in their formation even a hair. But as he peered at them, he was certain he could see them growing ever so slightly larger, and closer.

“Airships. Three of them.”

The soldier nodded. “And since I haven’t heard any talk about us getting any airships, I figure they must be for the Turks. Airships all come from Marrakesh, right sir?”

“As far as I know.” Tycho gripped the edge of the window and took a long, slow breath.

“Does this mean the Mazighs are fighting for the Eranians now?”

“I hope not. Because if they are, we aren’t going to last very long.” He gave the young man a serious look, and then turned back toward the stairs. “I’ll go inform the others. No need to keep ringing that bell now. Good work, private. Good eyes.”

“Nothing good about it, sir.” The young man frowned and squinted up at the sky.

“You’ve given us fair warning,” Tycho said. “Now it’s up to us to use it.”

Tycho descended the stairs slowly and carefully, chewing on his lip and wondering what threat the airships might be.

Gunfire from above?

Shelling from above?

At the bottom of the tower, he stepped out into the cool morning light and fought his way up into the saddle of his pony, and headed back to the palace at a quick trot. As he crossed the Second Courtyard and approached the Chamber of Petitions, he glanced to his left at the pale finger of the Tower of Justice.

If they do bomb the city, if they do breach the walls, if we do lose Constantia, then my first duty is to get Lady Nerissa to safety. But in the middle of a battle, anything can happen. I might not be able to help the Duchess, but there will be plenty of others who can. Vlad, at least.

But who will get Wren out of the city?

She doesn’t even have her Aegyptian friend with her now. She’s all alone here.

And she kissed me.

Me.

He nodded to himself as he slipped down from the saddle and handed the reins to a small boy at the steps to the Third Courtyard.

I won’t leave her behind again.

Chapter 19. Plans

A maid brought a cold breakfast down to the cellar on a silver tray, and Wren ate the strange little meats and wheat cakes while she watched Baba Yaga snore. The meats were spiced with something other than pepper, and she couldn’t name it. But she liked it.

When the maid came back, she brought a young page with her and the boy said he was to take Wren to a meeting with the Duchess.

“Will Tycho be there?” she asked as she stood up.

“Major Xenakis? I think so,” he said.

The maid said she would stay with the sleeping witch, so Wren started to follow the boy up the steps, but she stopped and came back to the carpets.

Just to be safe.

The eight silver bracelets lay in a pile on the floor, and one by one she picked them up and slipped them onto her wrists. And then, with four of the trinkets jangling on each of her arms, she climbed the steps and left the tower.

Outside, the morning sun shone brightly behind the thin gray clouds, and the entire sky glared a colorless mottled blend of charcoal, silver, and white. Wren pushed her blue glasses up her nose to hide her eyes and followed the young boy in the red jacket across the courtyard and into the Chamber of Petitions, and then down a hallway she had not seen before to a room guarded not only by Vlachian and Hellan soldiers, but a small legion of anxious-looking councilors, clerks, merchants, and over-dressed courtiers.

As the page knocked on the far door and spoke with the guards, Wren slipped off her glasses and loosened, but did not remove, the black scarf over her ears. The door opened, the page stepped aside, and Wren entered the room.

This room was slightly larger than the last one where she and Omar had met Tycho and the others, but in many ways it might have well been the same room. A long table, many chairs, the Duchess and the Prince, and more than a few soldiers and clerks milling about with papers and pens. She spotted Tycho across the room, and after a moment the young major looked up and saw her, and he smiled. She smiled back.

“There you are, good.” Omar waved her over to the side the room. “I hear you were able to make Yaga see reason. Very good. And you found time to change into some lovely new clothes and some very noisy jewelry. Ah, well. You look very nice.”

Wren stared at him. “I spent half the night clawing my way out of three of my own nightmares, then had an aether duel with that old witch just so I could turn around and dive into her own nightmare and pull her out. I saw things, horrible things. And then I had to fight the valas of Denveller just to get back into my own…” She trailed off as she noticed the strange look in his eyes.

Omar was smiling. He winked at her and leaned in close to whisper, “I know. You did marvelously. I’m truly impressed. And when we have some time, I want to hear all about it. But right now, I’m afraid we have yet another crisis on our hands.”

She glanced around the room and saw Tycho had his back turned as he spoke to the other officers. “What is it?”

“It would appear that our friends across the water have enlisted the aid of several Mazigh airships, which will be here by noon to begin bombing Constantia.”

“Airships?” Her eyes flashed. “Like the skyship that brought you to Ysland? Huge flying whales in the clouds?”

“Yes, just like that, except that instead of a journey of exploration that ends in a fiery crash, these airships have come to make war, which will end in a fiery inferno for everyone
except
them,” Omar said sourly. “If we don’t do something about it, a lot of people are going to die today.”

“But what can we do?”

“Quite a lot, actually. Vlad’s working on a plan right now. From what I’ve seen, it looks like the Hellans are going to attack the Eranian ships in the Strait and even attack Stamballa to draw the airships’ fire away from Constantia. I don’t know how long that will work, but it should buy us some time, maybe even the whole day.”

Wren glanced from his worried face to the jumble of maps and papers on the walls to the toy soldiers and ships strewn about the table in the middle of the room. “Will that really work?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. The crews of the Furies were incapacitated all night long. The boilers in the ironclads are all cold, and it will take hours before their engines are running, and the men won’t be any more ready to fight than ours. Less, if we’re lucky. But we’ll do whatever we can to help, as ever. How do you feel this morning? Did you get any sleep last night?”

“A little. Not really. What about you? Were you caught in the aether in some sort of nightmare like everyone else?”

“No.” Omar sighed. “I spent the first half of the night killing dead people outside the walls for our friend the prince, and then I spent the second half of the night escorting a lady friend back through the city streets, which were also quite full of dead people in need of killing. All in all, it was thoroughly unpleasant evening and I have no wish to repeat it, or even remember it, quite frankly.”

Wren grinned. “A lady friend?”

Omar smirked and pressed a finger to his lips, and he winked at her again. “Another time. I think Vlad is about to say something.”

They turned as Vlad knocked an empty glass loudly on the table to get everyone’s attention. The Vlachian prince looked haggard and unwashed, but there was something grim and terrible in his eyes as well. “Your attention! We have a plan and we haven’t any time to waste. I’ve already dispatched messengers and our remaining ships at the Galata Bridge are preparing to attack the Furies. Just like last night, they will all draw the Turks’ fire toward the north while the marines attack from the south, launching directly from the shore on the Point.”

“In broad daylight?” Tycho asked, his face pale. “My boys won’t stand a chance against those ships.”

“Yes, they will,” Vlad said. “Omar and I will be aboard the boats with them, and we won’t be trying to board the Furies. As soon as we reach their hulls, we will use our seireiken swords to burn through their armor and send them all to the bottom of the Bosporus. With any luck, we might even pull Koschei out of the water.”

A tired chuckle ran through the room.

“With the Furies crippled or destroyed, our entire force will then continue across the Strait and attack Stamballa itself.”

“Where, exactly?” Omar asked.

“Everywhere.” Vlad pointed at his maps. “Tycho says the Turks evacuated this entire district last night in fear of the aether. With only a token guard to oppose us, we should have no trouble setting fire to the entire waterfront. That should get the attention of those airships.”

“And what if it doesn’t?” asked Lady Nerissa. “What happens if the airships arrive and begin bombing Constantia? What if they attack the palace? How can we fight them?”

“We can’t,” said Tycho. “We don’t have any way to hurt them. They’ll bomb the city, Your Grace, and they’ll only stop when they run out of bombs.”

The room was silent.

“Then we’ll just have to keep their bombs falling in the sea,” Vlad growled. “I want all marines on the north beach immediately and ready to leave. All riflemen to the sea walls. And I’m pulling most of our men off the north and western walls to defend the Strait should the Turks decide to cross the water. Now go!”

The soldiers and clerks scurried out of the room clutching their papers and Wren pressed back against the wall out of their way. She glanced at Omar. “You’re going with them?”

“I am,” he sighed. “But don’t worry too much. I’ll probably survive.”

“I’m not worried about you.”

“Oh, thank you very much.”

She elbowed him in the ribs. “I just meant, what am
I
supposed to do while you’re gone?”

“Whatever you can do,” Omar said. He gave her a pointed look. “You’re not a little girl anymore, Wren. You’re a very big girl, with very strange ears, and you just defeated a very old witch at her own game. You don’t need me to hold your hand anymore. The things you know, the things you can do… my God, you’re one of the most capable people I’ve ever met. There aren’t any more rules to learn or tricks to figure out, not for you. It’s high time you realized that for yourself. Just go to the sea wall where you can see the ships and do whatever you can to help them. The more lives saved, the better.”