The Shadows of God - J. Gregory Keyes [110]
The flap rustled, and in walked Benjamin Franklin, wearing his raccoon hat and a plain brown suit. With him were the Choctaw Red Shoes, Vasilisa Karevna, and Leonhard Euler.
“Mr. Franklin!” Charles said, briskly rising to shake the young man's hand. “Come to save us all again, I see.”
Franklin smiled wanly. “We must all do our part, Your Majesty. And it is good to see you again.”
“Yes—hang together or hang separately, I heard you said. By heaven, let that be our battle cry. Well, what magic do you have for us, Mr. Franklin?”
“We have, between us, devised some stratagems,” Franklin replied, “which we think will keep the airships on the ground. But I fear it is still the army that must carry the day.”
“Don't worry about that,” Oglethorpe replied. “My lads are ready for anything.”
“And mine!” Charles added.
“The French will never shirk,” Philippe assured them.
“I will not bore you with scientific details, gentlemen,” Franklin said. “May I simply tell it to you in logistical terms?”
“Please.”
“If we can get near enough to the ships, quickly enough and undetected, we can deprive them of the power to fly. Not for long—a day at best.”
“You will use an invisible ship, as you did against me in Venice?” the tsar asked.
“Yes, Majesty. But in that case, our intent was to capture one of your own ships. A desperate measure, and one which in fact failed. In this case, we need only get near.”
“And once you have beached them, so to speak,” Charles said, “you may leave?”
“No. We must remain close, to continue to prevent them from rising. That is why I can promise you only a short time— once they discover and attack us, our defenses will only last so long. If they destroy us before you arrive, they will fly.”
“And you will die,” Charles pointed out.
“True,” Franklin replied, “but that lies at the end of most of our roads, at the moment.”
“Worry not,” Oglethorpe said. “Two leagues? I will be there in three hours, and heaven help anyone between here and there.”
“Bah!” Charles said. “I will be there in two hours, camped in the wreckage when you arrive.”
Philippe slapped his hands together. “I have a bottle of cognac,” he said, “of a particularly fine sort. So far as I know, it is the very last in the world. Whichever company reaches those ships first—Swedish, Commonwealth, or French— shall have the honor of drinking it.” He paused for a moment. “Or failing that, whosoever remains alive at the end of it all shall drink a toast to whoever reached them first.”
“You have a bargain,” Oglethorpe said.
“Well, my friends,” Franklin said to his scientific companions, “our future is assured by a bottle of cognac. Whatever confidence I lacked is now made whole.”
“Indeed,” Philippe said, “for you shall hold the bottle yourself, and award it to the winner.”
“Where are you going, Mademoiselle?”
“Hello, Elizavet. You're up early,” Adrienne said.
She shrugged. “I had something of a— disappointment last night. I stayed up thinking about that, but then my mind went to other things. It would not stop.”
“Did your disappointment have a name?”
“Carl von Linné.”
“Ah.”
“Yes. He refused my favor—me—for that thick-waisted émilie.”
“And that kept you up until morning?”
Elizavet settled on a tabouret. “Where are you going?” she repeated. “You are still injured.”
“That in a moment.”
Elizavet sighed and examined her right palm, tracing the index finger of her left along the delicate lines there. “They say our fate is written here. I never thought I had much of a fate. I never thought I needed one. I'm the daughter of the tsar, after all. Yes, Linné refused me. A very rare thing, especially when the other woman is so far from me in beauty.”
“But he is in love, Elizavet, and that makes a difference.”
“I know,” the tsarevna said. “I did not believe that before, not in my heart. But the more I thought on it, the more I wondered why I ever wanted him. And it was because of her, Mademoiselle.” She knit her fingers in her lap.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, émilie is like you. Oh, not so beautiful, of course. But her mind,