Sons of Liberty (43 page)

She made her way hurriedly down to the shooting range, tasting the whiff of powder in the air. The Sons never stopped shooting from dawn till dusk, practicing their skills until they were almost as good as some of the huntsmen she’d known. Joan had made her practice with a small pistol, but Raechel had worked hard to hide the skills Irene had taught her. Enduring the woman’s taunts about noblewomen had been easy, given what she knew. The only problem was getting her hands on a pistol ...

A man stood outside the shooting range, looking grim. Raechel waved cheerfully to him as he approached, but he showed no inclination to relax. Either he wasn't impressed by a pretty girl or he’d been one of the watchers as a handful of guards were forced to run the gauntlet for falling asleep on duty. Raechel had found it a sickening spectacle, but she’d watched anyway, knowing she had to harden herself. Besides, the Sons were right. A guard who fell asleep on duty could be disastrous, if an attacker was sneaking up to the camp.

“
I need to speak to Ivan,” she said. “Can you ask him to come out to me?”

The guard nodded and turned to shout into the shooting range. A moment later, Ivan appeared; a tall, muscular man wearing a shirt and a pair of trousers that seemed too small for him, carrying a heavy rifle over his shoulder. Raechel had to fight down the urge to take a step backwards. Ivan looked harmless - or no more harmful than any of the other men in the camp - but there was something about him that alarmed her. She just couldn't put her finger on it.

His voice was cold and hard. “Yes?”

“
Adam asks that you visit him, now,” Raechel said. She didn't want to admit it, but he intimidated her. Her fingers itched for a pistol. “Please could you go see him?”

“
Of course,” Ivan said. There was an odd accent in his voice, one she’d never quite been able to place. She’d wondered if it was Russian, but none of the Russians she’d met had sounded like him. “It would be my pleasure.”

He snapped a command to the guard, then strode off towards Adam’s office. Raechel followed, wondering if there would be a chance to spy on the meeting, but when the building came into view she saw a handful of men hanging around, seemingly doing nothing. Irene had shown her covert guards on the streets of London, men who looked ready to intervene of something happened. Adam, it seemed, followed the same principle himself.

She muttered a curse under her breath and headed for the dining hall. It was half-empty, but the tables that were filled were buzzing with conversation. She spotted John on the other side of the room, talking to Irene in her male guise; she picked up a bowl of potatoes, sausage and beans, then headed over to join them. John seemed far too pleased to see her for her own peace of mind.

“
There's been an interesting development,” Irene said. Really, if Raechel hadn't already known she was female, she wouldn't have had a clue from her voice. It was pitched perfectly. “John? You want to tell her?”

“
The French attacked Amherst,” John said. He sounded excited. “And we joined with the redcoats to repel them.”

Raechel blinked. That ... that .... was what Adam was so mad about?

“
The person on the spot took the decision,” Irene said, quietly. Raechel hadn't felt Irene reading her mind, but she tightened her shields anyway. “The battle was won.”

“
That’s good,” Raechel said. “Isn’t it?”

“
Unless the redcoats turn on us, now the French have been beaten,” John said. “They may recall the convoy that left New York.”

It took Raechel a moment to put it together. From what she’d picked up in New York, the Viceroy’s plan had been to land troops near New Orleans and capture the city, making it harder for the French to support their offensive into British North America. But if the French offensive had been blunted ...

They may fear what the Sons will do, she thought. Or take advantage of the French being weakened by striking at the Sons.

She ate her food slowly, listening to the ebb and flow of the chatter. Opinion seemed to be torn. No one actually liked the French, as far as she could tell, but very few liked the British either. And no one was particularly happy about how the decision had been made. The Sons took their voting seriously.

“
Meet me outside in ten minutes,” Irene hissed, as she rose. John had already headed back to his duties. “Please.”

Raechel nodded, finished her dinner and headed out of the door. Irene was waiting in the same spot, her eyes half-closed as she leaned against the wooden barracks. Raechel glanced from side to side, then stepped up close. If anyone saw them, they should assume they were kissing, rather than sharing secrets.

“Adam isn't pleased,” she said.

“
Something very odd happened at Amherst,” Irene agreed. “I can generally tell when a story doesn't quite add up, Raechel, and something really doesn't add up here.”

Raechel frowned. “Gwen was involved, somehow,” she said. “But how?”

“
We’ll find out in New York,” Irene said. “I need to slip out of the camp and vanish. Do you want to come with me?”

“
I may find out something else we need to know,” Raechel said, after a moment. She was tempted, but she was growing used to her double role. “It’s far too early to leave now.”

Irene nodded. “You know where you can find a compass? If you have to leave in a hurry, make sure you head eastwards. You should come across a road; follow it to the east until you reach a settlement. There are stagecoach inns in most of them, just buy yourself a ticket to New York. Don’t look back.”

Raechel winced. “That doesn't sound like a good plan,” she said.

“
It isn’t,” Irene said. “But right now you don’t have much of a choice.”

She gave Raechel a brief hug, then turned and walked away. Raechel stared after her, feeling lost and alone. Getting out of the camp wouldn't be easy for her - Joan had taken pains to tell the new recruits that it was impossible to leave, without the correct password - but Irene would have no trouble reading it from the guard’s mind. And even if she did get out, Raechel had no illusions about what awaited her on the far side. She might well die of exposure before she reached safety, if she wasn’t hunted down and killed. Irene had incredible nerve to just make the walk on her own.

And now I need to see what else I can find out, she thought.

She pushed the thought aside as she headed slowly back towards Adam’s office. The guards were still there. She glanced at the sun, silently calculating the time. It was, by her best guess, half past one. Shaking her head, she walked back to the barracks, wondering if she had time for a brief nap. It didn't look like it. Instead, she lay down on the bed and forced herself to relax. It wasn't long before Joan entered, looking annoyed.

“
It's too early to be lying down,” she snapped. “Why aren't you at work?”

“
The boss said I wasn’t to go back until two,” Raechel said. She glanced at the clock on the wall, which insisted she had ten minutes left. “Why aren't you at work?”

“
Don’t get cheeky with me,” Joan snapped. She looked as if she were about to slap Raechel, then thought better of it. “I have work to do here.”

Raechel frowned, wondering just what Joan had to do in the female barracks. It wasn't as if she did anything, beyond issuing orders and snapping out commands. Raechel had a private suspicion that Joan didn't do anything at all, save for welcoming new recruits. It would certainly explain why she was always lurking around, ready to hand out punishment duties to anyone who messed up.

“
I’ll leave you to it,” she said, drawing her cloak around her shoulders and heading for the door. She braced herself, half-expecting a slap, but Joan let her go unmolested. Maybe she thought Raechel would complain about her to Adam. “Have fun doing whatever you do.”

The guards were gone, she noted as she walked back to the office, but the door was locked and bolted. She tapped on the door and waited, sure she could hear someone moving around inside the building. It was nearly five minutes, however, before she heard the sound of the bolts being drawn back, one by one, and the door opened. Adam was standing just inside, looking angry. His filing cabinets were a mess.

“
You were in New York, I believe,” he said, as he beckoned her inside and closed the door firmly. “What did you make of the Viceroy?”

“
He struck me as a little overwhelmed by his job,” Raechel answered, before she could stop herself. What should she say? “He wasn't a bad person, but he had too many problems.”

“
I see,” Adam said. “And what did you make of his son?”

“
He’s a fop,” Raechel said. She’d danced with Bruce Rochester at the ball, once, but he hadn't made much of an impression on her. Indeed, he hadn't paid much attention to her at all. “I didn’t think much of him.”

“
The Viceroy hasn’t announced the formation of an American Parliament, not publicly,” Adam told her. There was no doubt in his voice at all. “What do you make of that?”

Raechel hesitated. “My uncle always said it took time to lay the political groundwork for anything,” she said, finally. The words came out of her mouth, one by one. “Giving the Americas a parliament would change things dramatically. The other politicians would not be pleased if they were surprised.”

“
I see,” Adam said, again. His voice was oddly thoughtful. “You don’t think he’s planning to cheat us?”

“
He wouldn't be laying the groundwork if he was,” Raechel said. Despite her uncle’s best efforts, she knew politics better than that. “The more people who know about it, the more people who adjust their plans to account for it, the more people who will be angry if the plans get cancelled at short notice. He means to keep the agreement, I think, but he needs to lay the groundwork first.”

“
Very good,” Adam said. He stepped back from her - she hadn't realised he was so close - and turned to his desk, rooting through the piles of paperwork. “Pack yourself a bag, Raechel. Clothes ... and whatever else you need for a trip to New York.”

Raechel tensed. “We’re going to New York?”

“
No, we’re going to Moscow,” Adam sneered. Luckily, his back was turned to her and he didn't see her flinch. “I was under the distant impression that you had a working brain, young lady.”

“
I’ll be recognised in New York,” Raechel protested, trying not to protest too much. It would be inconvenient if she talked her way out of the trip. She had a hunch that staying with Adam was important. “They’ll see me ...”

“
You’ll be wearing a tatty dress,” Adam told her, flatly. “They won’t recognise you for a second. Now go, pack your bag. I expect you back here in less than an hour, as we have an appointment in New York City. No conversations along the way.”

Raechel nodded and hurried to do as she was told.

Chapter Thirty-Five

“
I was expecting a band,” Bruce said. He sounded slightly disappointed as they climbed off the train in New York. “Not ...”

He waved his hand at the station. It was almost empty, save for a handful of soldiers on guard duty and the ever-present porters. A hansom cab sat at the far end of the platform, driven by a man Gwen recognised from the Viceregal Palace. She could hear the sound of a newsboy shouting about an exclusive, and a great victory, in the distance, but otherwise the station was remarkably quiet.

She concealed her amusement with an effort. “Better for us to slip in unnoticed than have to pose in front of a band,” she said. She’d never liked taking part in parades, even though the Royal Sorcerers Corps was supposed to march in unison through London every year for the king’s birthday. “We need to talk to your father before we do anything else.”

Bruce nodded and almost reached for her hand before he thought better of it. They’d been alone in the coach for most of the trip, spending the time chatting about their lives and getting to know one another better. Gwen had to admit she felt comfortable in his presence, a comfort she found far more reassuring than any sparks of passion. But they had to remember not to be indiscreet until they told the Viceroy just what had happened. There were already far too many rumours flying around America.

But there are always rumours, she thought, as they walked towards the cab. The driver dropped to the ground and opened the hatch for them, allowing Bruce to help her into the vehicle. This time, there might be some truth in them.

The carriage rattled to life moments after the doors were firmly closed. Gwen watched Bruce carefully, sensing his nervousness despite his best efforts to hide it. He was going to face his father, a man who had every reason to be angry with him, both for hiding his magic and joining the Sons. She had no idea if Viceroy Rochester was disappointed in his son or not, but the poor man was in for a nasty fright. It would look very bad when the whole affair was reported to London.

They won’t know what to do about it, Gwen thought. She almost took Bruce’s hand herself, to offer what comfort she could, but she knew he’d reject it. Men didn't like admitting to emotional weakness. Lord Mycroft is going to have a heart attack.

“
He’s not going to be pleased to see me,” Bruce said, quietly. “Even if we do have a working agreement ...”

His voice trailed off. Gwen nodded in understanding. She was technically emancipated, but her father’s disapproval could make life very difficult for her; Bruce would have problems, in the future, if his father disowned him for his ... double life. But then, he was a powerful magician. She rather doubted he’d have problems finding employment, even if he didn't stay with the Sons. No doubt the French, the Ottomans or whatever government emerged from the Russian Civil War would be glad to have him. Jack had advanced the French magic program by leaps and bounds.