Llaguno, that his prize hostage’s personal and obstetrical health is now being overseen by a corporal of the guards?”
Enrique glared, spat, and jerked his head toward the door. “Do your doctoring, Jew.”
Virgilio called for another long burn, and Miro complied. The dirigible rose toward the lower extents of the cloud bank and would soon be up in it. And that meant it would soon be necessary to coordinate with the Atropos by means of the telegraph wire that had been slaved to the primary tow-cord. Miro checked one of his favorite possessions-a manually wound up-time watch that had cost him a small fortune-and confirmed the time: approximately an hour and a half past midnight.
There had been occasional chatter in the gondola up to this point, but as the feathery gray masses of the clouds seemed to descend toward them, the airship grew quiet. Harry was already loading his tools and weapons, piece by piece, on what he called his “web gear,” carefully arranging it so that it would not obstruct the free play of the guidelines that were connected to the heavy black-leather harness he had shrugged into only a few minutes before.
Down below, the lights marking the boats of Miro’s flotilla began winking out, one by one. They were coming closer to the coast now, probably within forty minutes of their target.
Virgilio snapped an order at the Wild Geese, who dutifully tilted two empty oil containers over the side and into the lightless waters below. “Turlough, tell me as soon as we need more fuel for the engines,” he said with a nod of thanks. “We need to shift to gasoline soon. Doctor, if you would please man the telegraph; we need to coordinate our flight with the Atropos so we get the most power from her towing.” It was not a difficult task for a pilot as experienced as Virgilio when he had a clear view of the ship pulling him. But once they ascended into the clouds, once they lost sight of their comrades below, they would have to accomplish the same objective flying by instruments and feel alone.
Miro looked over the side at the boats again-and with a feathery fluttering of gray vapor, they were gone. The crew of the dirigible fell silent as they forged ahead into what looked like the mists of Limbo.
Thomas North looked toward the head of the column: the local guide had stopped, and his men were crouching low, in the surrounding bushes. They were in the higher reaches of the valley just to the south of Bellver, just before its walls began pinching tightly together into a gully known as the Mal Pas. The men stood out slightly against the sun-bleached sandstone that was increasingly poking through the dark scrub growth.
Thomas tapped the two rearmost of the group-Hibernians-on their shoulders: “Rearguard,” he muttered as he walked forward. They dutifully flanked well off to either side of the trail, crouching low into the scrub brush shadows, looking back down toward the dark bay.
As North arrived at the head of the column, the llaut ’s master and current guide nodded to a crevice in the sedimentary rock. “Here,” he said. “This is the cave.”
Thomas nodded and looked around more carefully, mentally removing the undergrowth: yes, they were in an old quarry. “And you have scouted the tunnel?”
“My cousin did, three days ago. It is all clear. They have either forgotten or ignored it. After all, there is no way to open the door up into Bellver from our side. And except for the ancestors of the xuetas who were impressed to build this place, probably no one knows their way through the tunnels, anymore.”
“Very well. We will travel with three bull’s-eye lanterns: one at the front, one in the middle, one at the rear.”
“Colonel, there are parts where only one man may pass at a time.”
“Very well: single file. Stay close to the man in front of you.” North checked his manual up-time watch, admiring the phosphorescent dot as it marched on its stiff, sixty-stepped circle around the miniature clock-face. “Let’s not be late to our own party.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
In the top room of the Castell de Bellver’s lazarette, Frank watched his wife squirm in discomfort as Asher arrived, escorted in by guards. As usual, the medium-sized assistant followed the doctor closely, the larger, broad- shouldered one bringing up the rear with the more cumbersome boxes and paraphernalia.
As Asher’s smaller assistant began setting up a folding trestle table and laying out implements, the doctor asked, “Now, are the pains regular or-?”
“Oh! Ow!” Gia exclaimed.
“Ah…irregular,” Asher concluded as his assistants finished raising the sheets that would be used as a modesty blind.
Dakis emerged from the staircase that led down to the fortified walkway joining the lazarette to Bellver’s roof. “So, what’s wrong, Jew?”
“I won’t know until I examine the woman,” Asher snapped, “which is not helped by having three-now four- guards in the room.”
“Just do your work. If you actually have any work to do.”
Gia writhed as Asher turned away to look at Dakis. “And what does that mean, senor?”
“It means that I wonder if she really has any problems with her pregnancy or if they are all feigned.”
“You suspect this is all just theatrics?”
“I suspect that this is a conspiracy.”
“A conspiracy?” gulped Frank before he could shut his mouth or govern his panicked tone. “What for?”
Dakis stared at Frank, assessing. “Why to trick us, of course.” He finished sizing Frank up and seemed to come to the relieving, if depressing, conclusion that the up-timer was too guileless and too overtly surprised to warrant suspicion. “Well, perhaps you aren’t in on it, but your wife might be.” Dakis darted a dark look at her and Asher. “I know fraud when I smell it. The Jew is getting a fat fee every time he comes up here, and charges us for all these pure spirits he claims will keep wounds clean and prevent infection. Probably a lie to justify the outrageous bills he tenders for the cost of his materials. And he’s probably splitting the take with your wife, his accomplice.” Dakis glared at Frank again. “But maybe you are in on it, after all: you certainly look nervous.”
“I look nervous? Really?” answered Frank. “I can’t think why-what with a doctor hovering over my pregnant wife, holding a knife, three months before she’s due.”
Dakis scowled, then blanched; Asher’s hands had come from behind the sheets and were covered in blood. “Perhaps this is all part of our theatrics, senor?”
Dakis uttered an inaudible profanity and, crossing his arms, leaned his back against the inner wall of the lazarette. “Get on with it,” he growled.
Asher glanced at his medium-sized assistant. “Fetch me more of the ethanol, quickly.”
Virgilio angled the props to give a slight downward boost-and suddenly they were under the clouds again, with the xebec visible below and slightly ahead of them. Off to the right, watch lights showed where Palma slumbered at the far end of the bay to the north.
“Very well, we continue on our own, from here,” announced Miro. “Dr. Connal, signal the Atropos that they are to release us. Aurelio is to signal the other boats to head south to their pre-chase loiter positions before he continues west at best speed. After you send the message, reel in the line quickly. Harry, are you ready?”
“Almost. Lemme double-check that my gear is attached good and tight.”
“Virgilio, we have to be in the clouds again before you call for another burn; we can’t show a flame any more.”
“Yes, I know, Don Estuban. I will need more fuel for the engines now. Make it the best we have.”
Miro turned to Turlough Eubank. “Gasoline into the engines, please. And since you will be otherwise occupied shortly, please fill the tanks to the brim, this time.”
“Aye, just as you say, Don Estuban. Do I pitch the container if it’s empty?”
Miro thought. “No, not any more. It’s only a few pounds. We can keep the weight until we no longer have need of stealth.”
Virgilio made a noise that suggested he would have answered Eubank differently. Miro smiled, turned to Connal, and saw the end of the main tow-line come up into his palm from over the side of the gondola; the wires protruding from the end of the narrow up-time electric cord attached to it were faint copper wisps. Connal handed it
