The Cask of Cranglimmering, page 3
"What? What is it?" Svetlana asked. "Tell me Indy didn’t just fry your eyeballs!"
"Find Athos. Now." Annette’s voice trembled on the last word.
"Annette, I’m getting the distinct impression that finding Athos is the least of my worries right now. Tell me what you saw."
"It’s a bomb."
Svetlana felt dizzy as her mind raced to make sense of the situation. "We need to get back to the ship," she told Annette after a long moment. "We can use the tow cables."
Annette shook her head. "Tow cable. The starboard tow cable snapped off after that run out of Gresch. We’ve only got the one. We need ... we’re going to have to ram it off the edge."
"There’re too many buildings around it. We won’t be able to get close enough. What if we defuse it?"
Annette bit her lip as she thought. "We’d have to get back to the ship and get Jo back here to do it. We might not have enough time. Maybe Calypso’s Price has someone?"
In the distance, an airship rose into Svetlana’s line of sight. The black and green stripe pattern on the balloon was distinctive. "Or maybe they just dropped it and ran. Full inflation, full engines. Calypso’s up, up, and away."
Annette cursed, but a loud thump that shook the entire tower covered what she said. The women looked at each other before running for the stairs. Halfway down, they heard a voice drifting up.
"Are you sure your shoulder is alright?" The speaker was a breathy young woman.
"I’ll be fine," Athos replied. "Just didn’t realize they left these things wide open for anyone to walk into."
"They don’t," Svetlana called down. "Athos Tucker, tell your friend goodbye now. We’ve got work to do."
Svetlana and Annette reached the lower floor of the tower in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of a barely clad woman whose exposed skin had been covered in spirals of gold paint. "Another aunt?" Annette asked.
"Cousin," Athos said with a smile.
"You must be related to half the world," Svetlana said dismissively.
Annette chuckled.
"Amusing as this may be, we don’t have time for cousins. There’s a bomb in the box that’s supposed to hold the Cranglimmering. Jo’s got the ship at the north dock. Let’s go."
Athos hesitated. "Wait, and just let the bomb blow?"
Annette looked at Svetlana. "But all those people--"
Svetlana sighed. "We may not have a choice. We don’t have the ability to get it out of there. We don’t know how long we’ve got to defuse it, so we could get Jo there only to have it blow her up along with everyone else. I’m open to alternatives, if there are any to be had."
Athos shook his head. "I think we might have time. The inauguration ceremony is in about three hours. If I were going to bomb something like this, I’d have it blow right when Kavisoli is up there in front of those guests. The bigger problem is that any attempts to defuse it are going to have to be in front of all of his guests. I don’t think he’ll take too kindly to bringing Jo Dean in when there’s Air Fleet here."
"Air Fleet?" Svetlana asked, her voice shaking. "Who?"
"Bobby, actually." Athos smiled. "He sends his love."
"Bobby Beauregard?" Annette asked, laughing.
"The one and only."
Svetlana grinned, as a plan began to unfold in her mind. "And the Himmelgnade?"
"At the south dock."
Svetlana’s grin shifted to a full-fledged smile. "Brilliant! Annette, head back to the ship and get Jo to move her to the south end. Athos and I need to go talk to Bobby."
"You’ve got it," Annette replied. "And give him my love as well."
~
"You know, Sveta, you really do need to dress for these things," Athos said, scrutinizing Svetlana’s attire. She was dressed as she often was, in simple black pants, white oversized blouse, and slim-fitting black jacket with red trim. "We’ve got to get you into a dress."
"No thank you. I’d rather be able to move if I need to." But Svetlana was acutely aware of the eyes of the partygoers on her, and she did feel underdressed. Even the male attendees had far more elaborate outfits than she, and the female partygoers’ attire, though it ranged the spectrum in terms of style, was all the very peak of what was fashionable throughout the Republic. While Athos’ own clothing--a simple blue blouse that brought out his eyes and snug-fitting trousers tucked into his high boots--paled in comparison to the rest of the crowd, he wore it in such a way that he fit in.
Athos shrugged. "Suit yourself. I saw Bobby over by the food when I was here earlier."
Looking in that direction, the press of bodies at the party was thick. "I don’t see him." She turned back to Athos, who had moved away and was talking to a young man in an Air Fleet uniform. Svetlana’s years in the Fleet prompted her to check his rank insignia before she approached. He wore the single bar of an ensign, and she relaxed.
"Yes," Athos was saying as she got within earshot. "Vice Admiral Beauregard. We’re old friends."
From the closer vantage point, Svetlana could read the ensign’s name plate--Hayes. She had hoped for something a bit more exotic, perhaps a name she recognized. "Tell him Sveta Tereshchenko needs to speak with him, urgently."
"Uh, yes, ma’am," Ensign Hayes stammered. "It’s only just that I don’t know where the Vice Admiral is, at the moment. I’m not part of the Himmelgnade’s crew."
Svetlana looked over the ensign’s shoulder, toward the south dock. The bold navy and red Republican flag flew from half a dozen ships. But as Svetlana looked around the party, Air Fleet uniforms were not in great profusion. She turned to Athos. "Show of force, you think?"
Athos shook his head. "Larson Kavisoli has a lot of highly placed friends." He turned to the ensign. "What ship are you on, then?"
"The Stoessel, sir."
Svetlana and Athos looked at each other. "And whose ship is that?" Svetlana asked.
"Captain Fisher, ma’am."
"Athos, what happened to the good old days of the Air Fleet, when we knew everyone, and captains had good, memorable names?"
"That’s why I quit, actually," Athos quipped. "Nobody could have respected a Captain Tucker."
With a chuckle, Svetlana asked, "Ensign, do you know where we could find Captain Fisher?"
"I suppose she’s at the Officers’ Club, ma’am."
Svetlana looked at Athos. "Officers’ Club, here? Those Kavisoli sure move quickly."
"Oh, that’s what’s going on in the big tent!" Athos exclaimed. Ensign Hayes nodded. "Thanks, chum. You’ve been a great help. We’ll put in a good word with the Vice Admiral for you."
Athos snagged Svetlana’s arm and leaned in to whisper. "The big tent just off the docks. It’s where all of the cream of the crop is spending their time. We are going to need to get you something different to wear if we’re going in there."
"No, we’re not," Svetlana said. "We’re going in just like we are."
Athos paused midstep. When Svetlana turned to face him, he arched an eyebrow. "Is this one of your plans that I get to know about, or do I just get to try to keep up?"
"Try to keep up," Svetlana said with a grin.
"Lovely," Athos muttered as Svetlana marched toward the large tent.
Two lieutenants stood to either side of the narrow entrance to the tent. Svetlana stopped in front of them and saluted, her gaze sliding across their name plates. "Palmer. Bridges." Though she said no more than their names, she said it with practiced authority, learned from years of watching her superiors and commanding her own subordinates in the Air Fleet.
Both of the young men straightened to attention and saluted back. "Ma’am," Lieutenant Palmer responded.
"At ease, gents. Is the Vice Admiral in?"
Lieutenant Bridges shot a glance at Palmer. "Pardon me, ma’am, you are?"
Svetlana sighed and turned to Athos. "No respect from this younger set." Turning back to the lieutenants, she gave them a tight smile. "The answer to your question, Lieutenant Bridges, is so high above your pay grade that your head would spin if I told you just how high."
Lieutenant Bridges straightened and glared down at Svetlana. "With all due respect, ma’am, we’re here in the name of the security of the Republic. Now I’ll either need--"
Svetlana stepped in front of Lieutenant Bridges, focusing her gaze solely on him. The young man tensed as she enunciated each word. "Lieutenant. We are here in the name of the security of the Republic, the Air Fleet, and the nascent City-State of Rrusadon. You will let us in to see Vice Admiral Beauregard."
Athos tugged at Svetlana’s sleeve, and she turned toward the tent entrance. An older man, white-haired, with a heavily lined face, stood between the open flaps, smiling. Though his advanced age showed in his hair and face, he stood ramrod straight, unstooped by the years. "So good to see you, Sveta."
"Bobby!" Svetlana exclaimed, stretching her arms out to hug him. The two young lieutenants moved away from the entrance to allow her access to the tent and the Vice Admiral.
Bobby embraced Svetlana, and she felt the vibration of his deep voice through her entire body. "Tucker, why does she still put up with you?"
"I’m useful." Athos smirked. "Good to see you, Bobby."
Svetlana pulled herself away from her former mentor. "We need to talk. Immediately." With a glance at the lieutenants, she added, "Preferably in private?"
Bobby looked at Svetlana, and then looked around. "It’s a ten-minute walk back to my office on the Himmelgnade. Or we can find a quiet spot inside?"
Svetlana nodded and followed Bobby into the tent, Athos close behind her.
Inside was a chaotic clash of color, sound, and aroma. The party outside had been festive, but here the elite rubbed cuffs with the officers of the Air Fleet and the Kavisoli family. Music poured out of some corners, while laughter and chatter wove in and out of the melodies. Fragrant floral arrangements warred with heavily spiced dishes that Svetlana could not identify. Even the colors of the clothing here appeared more overwhelming, and the elaborate dresses looked as though they may have required the combined efforts of dressmakers and architects to attain the shapes they had. "Okay, now I feel shabby," Svetlana whispered to Athos.
"I’ll save the ‘I told you so’ for another time."
Bobby led Svetlana and Athos to a ring of three chairs, set off to the side of the tent, and tucked behind a bank of the lush green plant life that grew on every portion of Rrusadon, cutting off Svetlana’s opportunity to fire back at Athos.
"Will this do?" he asked, gesturing to the chairs.
Svetlana nodded as she sat down. The men joined her, and she leaned into the center of the circle. "There’s a massive box outside that holds a bomb."
Bobby sat upright and his gaze darted around the area. Then he leaned closer to Svetlana. "Sveta, tell me honestly. Did you plant the bomb?"
"What? No! Of course not! Do you really think I would have done such a thing?"
Bobby shook his head, but said, "I had to ask. I hear rumors about you from time to time, and I worry about what you’ve gotten yourself into."
"You know me better than that," she snapped, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest.
"I’m sorry, Sveta. I had to be sure that I knew where you stood. Please, start at the beginning?"
She huffed out a sigh at his apology, but shook her head. "Bobby, I’m not sure how much time we have. We think the bomb is probably rigged to blow when the inauguration begins, but we don’t know that for certain. We need you to get it out of here. The Silent Monsoon can’t manage that."
"Alright. Which box?"
"The one that looks like it could hold a sofa. It’s supposed to be the Cranglimmering," Svetlana said.
Bobby stiffened. "What? Who would send their Cranglimmering to the Kavisolis?"
"Allegedly, it’s the Bartram Cask. It was stolen ... I don’t know when, actually. Recently, I guess. We were told it had been brought here." Svetlana frowned. "Well, sort of told. Bobby, I’m not liking this."
"Likewise," he said, rising from his chair, and nodding to someone across the crowded room. "I’ll have it taken care of. Tucker, would you care to come with me to assist?"
Athos looked at Svetlana. "Why not Sveta?"
"Mayor Kavisoli would like to have a word with you, Captain Tereshchenko," said a woman’s voice, smooth as silk and barely above a whisper, but still audible over the hubbub of the tent. Svetlana’s head jerked up and followed the sound of the voice. The woman standing nearby was tall and slender, dressed in what looked like scraps left over from making someone else’s dress. Her skin was olive, decorated with gold paint like the woman Athos had been with in the observation tower. "If you’d like to freshen up a bit, I can show you to the powder room at the Mayor’s estate."
Mouth agape, Svetlana rose and looked at Bobby. His expression gave her no indication as to why the soon-to-be inaugurated mayor wanted to speak with her, or how he even knew that she was on Rrusadon.
Bobby simply nodded at her. "The mayor should be informed of this. We’ll take care of the box."
~
Svetlana was not fond of waiting for anyone, but waiting for Mayor Kavisoli, in his ostentatiously decorated parlor, after his serving girl had attempted to paint Svetlana’s face with glittery gold powder, pushed her tolerance to the limit. Heading back to The Silent Monsoon was an option, but as she rose, she realized that the view from the parlor window was directly into the heart of the outdoor party. The Himmelgnade hovered high above the party, tow cables lowering on either side of the box containing the bomb. Air Fleet men on either side of the box attached the cables, and soon the Himmelgnade was whisking the box far from the hundreds of assembled guests.
"Captain Tereshchenko," said a low voice behind her. "I understand I have you to thank for ... well, quite a bit, actually."
Tall, dark, and handsome were the first three words that came to mind as Svetlana regarded the speaker. His olive skin matched that of the serving girl, and his face was framed by slicked back dark brown hair and a narrow goatee. He wore a simple purple shirt, open at the collar and at his wrists, untucked over simple black slacks.
"You’re Larson Kavisoli?" Svetlana blurted. Her face flushed as she realized he must have been preparing for the inauguration ceremony and was half dressed. "You’re, ah, much younger than I expected."
"Yes, well, you’re much prettier than I expected," he replied, flashing brilliant white teeth as he smiled. "I thought all you ship captains were supposed to be used up old hags."
Svetlana stammered for a moment before she could form coherent words. "Your serving girl said you wished to speak with me."
"Serving girl," he laughed, a rich, warm sound that put her at ease. "So genteel. But yes, you’re correct. When I heard that the famous Captain Tereshchenko had come to Rrusadon, I felt it only appropriate that we meet. I understand that you and your crew are quite skilled at evading authorities." He paused and frowned. "Only now I wonder if that is more due to skill or more due to personal connections."
"If you believe me to be famous, then surely you know my background. Yes, I was Air Fleet. And yes, I still have friends there. That’s all. But as a matter of courtesy, we don’t like to call what we do ‘evading authorities.’ That makes it sound like smuggling." She grinned and waggled her eyebrows.
"But of course. Forgive my unfamiliarity with the proper terminology. Perhaps you can educate me further on that topic at a later date. Because it seems I have something more pressing to discuss with you at the moment."
"Oh?" This man was not at all what Svetlana expected from a Kavisoli. He was charming, verging on flirtatious, and well educated, not the boorish rowdy she had been told the Kavisolis all were. And he danced from topic to topic with alarming speed.
"I understand you discovered a bomb that may have been planted to disrupt my inauguration."
"Oh, that. Yes. Annette discovered it, really."
He moved closer to her, and Svetlana caught a whiff of a pleasant woody scent, mixed with the faintest floral note. "Well, then perhaps I should be thanking Annette instead."
"Yes," Svetlana said. She took a deep breath to steady herself, but found that doing so disoriented her more. Whatever it was that made him smell as he did was intoxicating. She bit her lip, annoyed that she was getting flustered from talking to this man. "I don’t suppose you happened to get a card with that gift, did you?"
"Card? Mmm, yes, actually." He moved away to one of the gilt-edged bookcases and tugged on a book. The bookcase to his left slid out and to the side, revealing a narrow doorway. "Step into my office?" Without watching to see if she followed him, he ducked through the opening. Svetlana hesitated, but then followed. The top of the doorway grazed her hair as she stepped through.
Kavisoli’s office was stark, particularly compared with the parlor. A large desk dominated most of the space, but it was unadorned dark teak. A fountain bubbled at one end of the room, and the motion of the water kept the room cooler than it might otherwise have been. Svetlana jumped when the door slid closed behind her. Kavisoli looked up from the papers on his desk. "I’m glad you made it through before it closed, Captain."
"Svetlana," she said, her voice coming out much thicker and throatier than she had anticipated.
"Call me Lar," he replied. "All of my friends do." He lifted a piece of paper from the desk. "Here it is. ‘Regards, Jonas Kean.’"
Hand outstretched, Svetlana frowned and approached the desk. Lar handed her the paper and shrugged. The writing on it was simple printing, all in capital letters, over a faint watermark. "Is there more light available?" she asked.
"Shield your eye." Lar seemed to notice her monocular for the first time. "What is that device?"
"Nothing of use at the moment." As Svetlana shielded her good eye, Lar twisted a knob, allowing the gas jets around the room to brighten.
Svetlana held the paper up to the light and looked for the watermark again. "It’s from a shop back home."
Moving beside her to examine the paper, Lar asked, "Where is home, Svetlana?"
