“Can you arrange an aetheric transponder connection appointment for me? I have my own valve frequensors, but I understand there is only one transmitter for public access in the city.”
“Indeed, my lady. We are a little overtaxed as a result, but I am certain your rank will guarantee access. You’ll want the Boulevard Ramleh’s west end, opposite the street leading to the Exchange.”
Alexia determined she would have to borrow Ivy Tunsell’s guidebook in order to make sense of these directions, possibly attached to Ivy herself, but she made a mental note of the details.
“Thank you, my good man. I’ll need to book to send a message for just after sunset London time, from here to England. Can you arrange such a thing?”
“Certainly, my lady. That should be something on the order of six o’clock in the evening. But I will ascertain the particulars and make the appointment for you.”
“You are most efficient.” Alexia, missing Floote quite dreadfully, gave the man a generous gratuity for his pains and wandered into the dining room to see if any of her party were about yet.
Ivy, Tunstell, the nursemaid, and the children were all there causing a ruckus at one of the larger tables. Prudence had her mechanical ladybug and was trundling about banging into people’s chairs in a most indiscriminate manner. Alexia was mortified by such behavior. What was the nursemaid thinking, allowing the infant to bring the ladybug to a public eatery? Tunstell was explaining, in large expansive gestures, the thrilling plot of The Death Rains of Swansea to some poor unfortunate tourists at the adjoining table. Ivy was fretting over her Baedeker’s guidebook, and the nursemaid was busy with the twins.
Lady Maccon scooped up her errant child.
“Mama!”
“Have you eaten, poppet?”
“No!”
“Well, food, then. Have you tried one of those cinnamon pastry thingamabobs?”
“No!”
Still unsure if no was Prudence’s new favorite word or if she actually knew what it meant, Alexia guided the ladybug with her foot and made her way, baby on hip, to the Tunstells’ table.
“Oh, Lady Maccon, how delightful!” extolled Tunstell upon seeing her. “Lady Maccon, may I introduce our new acquaintances the Pifflonts? Mrs. Pifflont, Mr. Pifflont, this is Lady Maccon.”
One is never sure, upon being introduced, whether one should trust in the arranger of the association, particularly when that arranger was Tunstell. Nevertheless, it was Lady Maccon’s business to be gracious, so gracious she was. The Pifflonts turned out to be antiquities experts of some amateurish Italian extraction, quiet and well mannered and exactly the type of people one would like to meet in a hotel. Careful inquiry, and control over Tunstell’s exuberance, turned the conversation to the couple’s journey through Egypt, which was nearing its close. They were about to return home, abiding only one or two more days before catching a steamer to Naples.
The following unexpectedly intellectual discourse was interrupted by the advent of Lord Conall Maccon wearing a cloak and, so far as Alexia could tell, nothing else. She was horrified. First her daughter went around bumping into people with a ladybug and now her husband appeared without shoes. Well, there goes that acquaintance! She couldn’t even bear to look at the faces of those nice Pifflonts.
She stood and scuttled swiftly to the earl where he loomed in the doorway.
“Conall, really!” she hissed. “At least pull on some boots so you have a facade of decency!”
“I require your presence, wife. And the bairn.”
“But, darling, at least a top hat!”
“Now, Alexia. There is something I wish you to see.”
“Oh, very well, but do go away. There’s blood at the corner of your mouth. I can’t take you anywhere.”
Lord Maccon vanished around a corner of the hall and Alexia hurried back to the table. She made their excuses and scooped up Prudence, despite her daughter’s protestations.
“No! Mama. Nummies.”
“Sorry, darling, but your father has discovered something of interest he wishes us to see.”
Mrs. Tunstell glanced up. “Oh, is it a textile shop? I hear they produce the most lovely cottons in this part of the world.”
“Something more along the lines of ruffled parasols, I believe.”
Ivy was thick but not so thick as all that. “Oh, of course,” she said immediately, winking in a very overt manner. “Ruffled parasols. Naturally. Now, my dear friend, you won’t forget we have a private show in only a few hours. And while I know you are not integrated into the performance, your presence is desirable.”
“Of course, of course. This shouldn’t take very long.”
“Carry on, then,” said Mrs. Tunstell, although her friend was already trotting hurriedly away. Alexia heard Ivy say, “Lady Maccon is our particular patroness, don’t you know? Such a very gracious and grand lady.”
She was met outside the hotel by a large wolf. In order to make more of a thing of it, Alexia purchased a donkey rope off an obliging, though confused, donkey boy. This she clasped about Conall’s brindled neck, quite a feat of loops and twists, as she could not touch him and had to keep hold of Prudence. Eventually she was successful and it looked as though she were taking a very large dog for a walk.
Lord Maccon gave her a baleful look but submitted to the humiliation for the sake of propriety. They wended their way through the still-vibrant city; sunset seemed more an excuse to visit than an ending to daily activities. He led her a long way, due south down the Rue de la Colonne, past the bastions, through the outer slums of the city until they reached the canal. Alexia was beginning to worry about the time, concerned they might not make it back by the vampire visiting hour. Conall, in his wolf form, had little estimation of distance, and while Alexia was a great walker and never one to shirk exercise, traversing an entire city in the course of only an hour was really rather extreme, especially when carrying a disinterested toddler. Eventually, they developed a method by which Prudence rode astride her father, with Alexia gripping one hand firmly so as to keep everyone in their correct forms and fur.
The earl stopped imperiously at the bank of the canal, and it took Alexia only a moment to surmise they must cross it.
“Oh, really, Conall. Couldn’t this wait until tomorrow?”
He barked at her.
She sighed and waved over a reluctant-looking lad in command of a kind of reed raft obviously utilized to cross the canal.
The raft boy refused, with many shakes of the head and wide eyes, to allow the massive wolf into his little craft but was charmed into unexpected delight when said wolf took to the water and simply dragged his raft across. He had no need of the pole normally employed for the crossing. Lady Maccon forbore to say anything on the subject of the cleanliness of the water.
Alexia gave the lad a few coins and gesticulated in such a way as she thought might convince him to wait for them, while Conall shook out his coat violently.
Prudence clapped and giggled at her father’s antics, twirling about in the spray of dirty water. Alexia caught her daughter’s hand before she touched him.
Alexia thought it a good thing the locals were accustomed to the eccentricities of the English, for such a thing as Lady Maccon alone in the baser end of a foreign city with her only daughter and a large wolf should never be tolerated in any other part of the empire.
Nevertheless, she followed her husband dutifully, reflecting that this was one of the reasons she had married him, with the certain knowledge that life would never be dull. She often suspected it was one of the reasons he had married her as well.
The sensation was barely recognizable at first, but then she began to feel it—a tingling push, a little like the aether breezes against her skin when she floated. Only this sensation felt like the reverse. Aether tingling was like very mild champagne bubbles against the skin; this felt as though those bubbles were being generated by her own flesh. It was a faint sensation and it was almost pleasant, but it was odd. Had she not been alert for some new experience, she might not have even noticed.
Waving her arms about excitedly, Prudence said, “Mama!”
“Yes, dear, odd, isn’t it?”
“No.” Prudence was very decided on this. She patted Alexia on the cheek. “Mama and—” She waved her arms about. “Mama!”
Alexia frowned. “Are you saying that to you the air feels like me? How very odd.”
“Yes,” agreed Prudence, using a word Alexia hadn’t until that moment realized she possessed.
“Conall, is that what I think it is?” Alexia asked the wolf, her attention still on her wiggling daughter.
“Yes, my love, I believe it is,” said her husband.
Lady Maccon nearly dropped Prudence in startlement, looking up to confirm that her ears were not playing tricks on her and that her husband was standing a short distance away, fully nak*d and fully human.
Lady Maccon set down her daughter. The child toddled eagerly over to Conall, who scooped her right up, without fear. No need of it—Prudence remained her own precocious human self.
Lady Maccon went to stand next to him. “This is the God-Breaker Plague?”
“Indubitably.”
“I thought I should feel more repelled by it.”
“So did I.”
“On the other hand, when the mummy was in London—do you recall?—and caused half the city to come over all mortal, I didn’t register any sensations at all. This is almost as mild. It was only when I was in the same room as that awful mummy that I felt true repulsion.”
The earl nodded. “Sharing the same air. I believe that was the Templar’s phrasing for two preternaturals in the same place.”
Alexia looked out over the low mud brick houses of Alexandria’s poorest residents to the wide low black of nothingness beyond. “Is that the desert?”
“No. Desert has more sand. I believe that used to be a lake, all dried up now. It’s wasteland.”
“So there once was water and now there is none. Is it possible that the God-Breaker Plague has moved close to the city only since then? After all, we know preternatural touch is affected by water.”
“That is a thought. Hard to know. Of course, it is also possible that the city has expanded toward it. But if it has moved closer, you can bet the local vampires would not be happy about it.”
“Matakara’s real reason for summoning us?”
“Anything is possible with vampires.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
In Which Prudence Discovers Sentences
The Maccons made it back to the hotel in time to change and make themselves presentable before being taken to Queen Matakara and the Alexandria Hive. Chancellor Neshi was waiting for them expectantly in the lobby.
The Tunstells and their troupe were soon to follow, trotting down the stairs lugging set pieces and already dressed in their costumes for the first act, although the gentlemen were all sporting top hats for the journey. If their arrival at the hotel had been remarked upon with interest by the natives, their departure was even more noteworthy. Mrs. Tunstell’s dress was silver satin with an enormous quantity of fake pearl jewelry. Mr. Tunstell was attired as any fine gentleman about town except that his suit was of crimson satin and he had a short gold cape buttoned over one shoulder like a musketeer. Mr. Tumtrinkle, villainous from spats to cravat, wore black velvet with diamanté buttons, blue leather gloves, and a cloak of midnight blue satin that he swooped and swirled about like wings as he moved.