Heart of Steel - Meljean Brook [66]
Though Yasmeen didn’t disagree, she couldn’t help but be amused. “I remember this from a sermon. I believe your father’s point was that we are all deceived about our place, and we all take orders from God.”
He grinned. “I just take the bits I want to.”
“And what are you, Mr. Fox?” Yasmeen knew what she was. “Do you give orders, or take them?”
“I’m the type to get the damn job done myself.” He lifted her hand, pressed a warm kiss to the backs of her fingers. “Now, let’s find out where this job is taking us.”
Chapter Eight
Featuring a private privy and wardrobe, a writing desk and a berth that was wider than a plank, Hassan’s stateroom was larger than their cabin by far. A small table allowed him to eat in privacy, if he preferred—now, it was spread with a large map. Hassan settled into the table’s cushioned chair, quietly sipping his tea and leaving Yasmeen and Archimedes to discuss their route with Ollivier, who didn’t speak Arabic. On the desk, Ollivier had piled several books, sheaves of notes, and old maps.
The first city he pointed to made Archimedes groan. “No,” he said. “Vienna is picked clean. I myself have been there seven times, a total of four months on the ground. There’s simply nothing left.”
Yasmeen said, “All of the men I’ve carried there have said the same. There’s nothing to be found. It’s been abandoned the longest, so it’s been picked over the longest.”
“I am not interested in Vienna, but just outside of it. I had opportunity to study Prince Albert the Fair’s archives,” Ollivier said, as if in explanation. “His many-times great-grandmother was one of the Fleeing Hapsburgs.”
A member of the ruling family in Vienna and the surrounding principalities during the Horde’s advancement into Europe, the Hapsburgs had fought to the bitter end—and in the New World, were as celebrated as da Vinci. But a few of the Hapsburg family had fled; they had not been looked upon kindly, and were often portrayed as villains and cowards in the theatrical plays and histories.
From beneath his notes, Ollivier brought forth a colored woodcut print protected beneath a glass plate. Faded greens and browns depicted rolling hills behind a walled city, with a river and swimming swans in the foreground. The peaked roofs of the city were all in orange and blue, and the buildings stood tall, with several ornate spires reaching into the pale sky.
“The old man was the last of his line before his demise, so I was able to acquire this woodcut from his collection, which is a faithful reproduction of a painting made by the Hapsburg grandmother.”
Yasmeen looked up at Archimedes. No doubt “acquiring” meant stealing after he’d poisoned the man. Lovely.
Ollivier continued, “Her painting of the city was the latest one that I’ve seen created by someone actually in Vienna. Many others are based upon older artworks or drawn from memory. Do you see this?” He pointed to a stout stone structure in the background, almost hidden in the rolling hills. “I’ve never seen it in any other depiction.”
Eyes narrowing, Archimedes leaned close to study the woodcut. “That’s true. I haven’t seen it before, either. But I also haven’t seen anything like this ruin when I was in the city.”
“But it is up in the hills, do you see? If the forest had grown up around it, the view might have been obstructed.”
Archimedes nodded. “All right. What do you think it is?”
The assassin hauled out another map of Vienna and the surrounding area. “A possible place to build the clockwork army. Its position is perfect: near enough to the Hapsburg Wall that if the Horde were to break through, the soldiers would be readily available to stop them—but also far enough away to allow time to mount a defense.”
“The Hapsburgs had da Vinci’s machines on this side of the wall.”
“But they were created to defend the wall and to halt the Horde’s machines, not to stop troops of mounted soldiers from coming through. A clockwork army could slow them.”
Though clearly