Heart of Iron - Ekaterina Sedia [64]
“We could jump out of the window,” he said. “I mean, I could jump. You won’t be recognized.”
“You think so?” I said, uncomfortable with the idea of going near the spies all by myself.
“Unless you want me to carry you as I jump,” he said. “I have never tried it before, with a person.”
I did a quick calculation in my mind. “If you jump out of this window carrying me, the impact will either kill me or break some bones at the least.”
“There’s the answer then.” He smiled, encouraging. “You can do it. Besides, someone has to pay the bill.”
I picked up my satchel and sighed. “I’ll meet you at the bridge. Then we can go to the station, meet the train from St. Petersburg, and see if Eugenia sent any messages.”
Jack nodded and opened the window. Cold wind lifted the thin white curtains and a few snowflakes danced into the room, melting the instant warm air touched them. Jack stood a moment with his foot on the windowsill, looking at the street below. The next second, he leaned out of the window as if estimating the distance, and then he was gone in a swirl and a flap of his long coat.
I fought the temptation to rush to the window and see but there were voices outside. I shut the window with nary a look and swiftly exited our room. In the hallway I saw three men in tweed jackets that were much too light for the weather, and it took great effort to not speed my steps or otherwise betray my distress. I nodded to them as I passed with my newly developed swagger, and they nodded back, showing no signs of recognition.
I thundered down the stairs, forgetting decorum, and felt like I drew a breath for the first time in years when I entered the downstairs dining room. Warm smells of cabbage and fish washed over me. I found the owner, let him know we were leaving earlier than anticipated, and paid for our lodging.
The rotmistr and his two cornets sat at the same table as before—in fact, in my panic and confusion I thought for a moment that they were always there, not real people but mere decorations. The rotmistr raised his gigantic hand and waved at me; I had the presence of mind to wave back. The cornets saluted without getting up, and I returned the salute. Just as I turned to leave the tavern, there was a commotion outside, a ringing of hooves and terrified whinnying of horses, and a woman’s scream.
The usual din in the tavern died down; but only my friends the hussars and myself were foolish enough to bolt outside. The picture we discovered made my heart feel like it was frozen to my ribs by a sudden gust of especially cold wind.
Dame Nightingale herself, dressed in furs, screamed and pointed, as several men in civilian clothes—but with military bearing—circumvented an upset carriage, under the wreckage of which two heavily dressed figures struggled weakly. I assumed Jack had spooked the horses with his leaping, and it was he Dame Nightingale directed her pursuit after.
Passersby gathered around the wreckage and helped the passengers out; one of the horses thrashed on the ground with a broken leg. Discussion started among a merchant and two bureaucrats about whether it should be put down and by who. Freedmen, factory workers, waiters from the tavern as well as a few diners with their napkins still around their necks appeared, and a sizeable knot of people assembled, clogging Balchug Street. The English had to wrestle through the crowd, and their progress was slow and reluctant.
Dame Nightingale turned and saw me; her eyes tore through my disguise as if it were mere smoke, flimsy enough to be dispelled with a single breath, and gave a slow smile. “Sasha,” she said. “How good to see you.” With a flick of her wrist she directed the attention of the men in civilian clothing to me. The immediately moved toward me.
“Now now,” the rotmistr said. (I was so terrified of Nightingale I’d forgotten he was there.) “Leave the young man alone.”
The cornets drew closer to