The Hounds of Winter, Prologue: Hounds to Scent
Thursday, 17 Feb 1870
The Colonel's private study
Diogenes Club, London
8:00pm, GMT
The Colonel tamped the tobacco in his pipe thoughtfully before taking a taper from the fireplace and lighting the leaf. He inhaled slowly and carefully, making sure to fire the whole bowl. With the same care, he tossed the flaming taper back into the fire, inhaled a lovely, cherry-flavored breath of heated smoke. He took a few more puffs, finally content that he had the young man behind him truly uncomfortable. He had been waiting patiently in the Colonel's most uncomfortable chair. Needless to say, even that one truly wasn't uncomfortable in an office such as the Colonel enjoyed. However, he was still uncertain about the young man, no matter how quietly exuberant that Josephine had been about him.
Mr. Quentin Michael Humberstone. He rolled the name around his head and was annoyed that he could find nothing wrong with it. Tall human with sandy hair and a scar above his left brow, tall and well weighted. The younger man had been polite, his accent genteel in only the way that southern Americans could pull off. But he was American, no doubt. Entirely too comfortable in his own skin, too comfortable sitting in the private room of the Colonel Fleming.
There were too many strange things going on. The mages were too uneasy, keeping to themselves after the murder of one of their own. And they also were entirely too interested in his grandchildren. He knew Beignet watched them like a hawk, letting only the most trusted servants in the house now. The tiny mage was dangerous, suspicious, and protective and the hobbit's wife had a nose for trouble and all the grounded sense that one could hope for. As a pair, despite their size, they were formidable. Not only would the Beignet children sleep safe and sound, so would his grandchildren. He had the best thaumaturges at his command to add to the little hobbit's spells around the estate. He was as comfortable as he could be that Rachel and Samuel were safe.
But he was their grandfather and right now all he wanted to do was hold one in each arm, rock them to sleep, and never leave their sides. That their parents should have been doing that, he put aside. If he admitted it, he was terrified for his child. Katherine was so much her mother. He couldn't stand the idea of losing them both.
The door opened again and he recognized the soft footfall of Miss Arceneaux. He turned, exhaling a mouthful of fragrant smoke, studying the odd pair before him. Mr. Humberstone had not yet had the grace to do anything but look comfortable and at ease. Damn Americans, he thought and watched Josephine sit down. He nodded towards her.
"Good evening, Josephine. You, of course, know Mr. Humberstone."
"Certainly," she said softly. "Good evening, Colonel, Mr. Humberstone." Josephine had just settled with a cup of tea and her notes at her kitchen table, intending to transcribe them into formal reports when someone knocked at her back kitchen door. The rag man standing on her step had swept off his cap and delivered the message to report at once to the Diogenes Club. Half an hour later, Josephine stepped into the Colonel's private study, sweeping it with a keen glance before taking the seat offered. She nodded once at each man in turn, thinking that the months since she'd last seen the American must have been interesting ones. She gave Humberstone a faint smile and asked, "How was Egypt?"
"Egyptian, ma'am," Quentin said with a slight Virginia drawl. "Very Egyptian. I was able to track the Black Dragon Tong to a Settite cult in Cairo that's been trouble with the Khedive down there. Kidnapping folks for ransom." He smiled fiercely, "But that ain't doing that anymore. And my sister's back in Virginia."
He paused for a moment, his face quizzical. "I also went to that location where you said the Bast people were. You gave me good directions for how to get there, the longitude, latitude, which channel all that, but there's no island there. Never has been according to the locals I talked to."
An eyebrow twitched and her lashes hooded her eyes a second as she said, "It has been two years since my last visit and much may have changed." The faint smile played with the corner of her lips as she added, "Perhaps we might compare notes after the Colonel tells us why we are here."
Josephine faced her superior, all hint of flirtation gone. "I am at your convenience, sir."
Colonel Fleming had watched the exchange, puffing gently on his pipe, his keen eyes serene and circumspect. There was an undercurrent unmistakable. If his information wasn't so serious, he would have smiled. Slightly.
His bright blue eyes pinned the pair to their chairs in turn. "You do not know them, so this has no significance to you, Mr. Humberstone, but my son-in-law is missing. As is my daughter."
He raised his hand slightly as Josephine's mouth parted. "The dirigible that Lord Fleming-Drake was on went down under suspicious circumstances...Katherine's disappearance was of her own making but no less distressing. But that is for your information only. It is not why you're here."
He drew on his pipe again, his brow furrowing. "You may speak now," he commanded with a cloud of smoke.
At the word missing, Josephine stiffened and her mind began to race. Suspicious circumstances. Political strike? Sabotage? Katherine's disappeared on her own. Why would she—?
Click.
She's gone off to find him but Quentin and I are not to find her. We're hunting something else. Josephine closed her eyes and took a deep breath and strove for patience. Katherine and Ezekiel were very dear to her. Knowing that they might be in mortal danger harrowed her to the bone. The Colonel would know this yet explicitly forbade her to do what she wanted with every fiber of her being: bring them home. Josephine knew that Katherine's father must feel the same, yet the Colonel he had to be demanded that he put that agony aside. Very well. So would she.
"What do you require, sir?" she asked, letting her breath go and meeting the Colonel's gaze with resolve.
He nodded his approval. "There have always been cults. They do not normally rise to our notice because any impact they have is unnoticeable at best."
He drew a breath, looked at Quentin. "As Josephine well knows, recently there have been exceptions. The Rembecki affair and others. We pay much more attention to them now. There seems to be a rise of power in these cults, a subtle organization that we never noticed before among disparate groups."
He gave his attention to Josephine. "There is one such group gaining power in Romania and the surrounding states there. I need a report of it at the worst, serious disruption if not dissolution at the best."
"Who do you have on location? Anyone?" Josephine asked, already cataloguing methods of communication and transportation, entrance and exit strategies. "Or is this virgin territory?"
If Josephine was embarrassed by her choice of words in mixed company, she didn't show it. She quite frankly didn't have the time or the patience for useless convention if it would cloud rather than clarify the issue.
The Colonel's mouth twitched. "I will have you both there once you arrive." He waved his pipe at a satchel beside a wooden box on the sideboard. "Money, documents, etcetera are there. As well as a Dubroni camera. You may make up whatever you wish as your cover, but photography of the area and other key places would be helpful."
He regarded Quentin serenely as a cloud of blue smoke gathered around his head. "Aren't you American tourists notoriously brash and rude?"
Josephine rose for the sideboard and took pains to ensure Humberstone would not see the pointed look she give the Colonel at his comment on rudeness. She remained silent, however, trusting the American to verbally fend for himself while she inspected their kit.
"Well," Quentin drawled. "Perhaps, but there's also the proverb, 'Better to keep one's mouth shut and be thought a fool, than open and remove all doubt."
Drawing his fingers down his whiskers, the Colonel smiled. "I never put much stock in proverbs, Mr. Humberstone. I measure a man by his actions. I will measure you by yours." He gestured with the stem of his pipe to Josephine. "Help Miss Arceneaux. Bring me some intelligence we can use or disrupt what they are doing. I'll judge you on that." With that, he turned and walked to look out the window at the street below.
Quentin talked at the back of the Colonel. "I'll certainly do what I can to help to help Miss Arcenaux and your son-in-law, sir, and not to be a 'rude American' but could you tell me where specifically your son-in-law was going or what he was looking for when he disappeared? It might help us find him."
"The Ark of the Covenant. It has long been rumored to have been taken to Abyssinia and the museum sponsored a group to go verify the claims, three archaeologists, two historians, as well as some respected and fortunate prominent patrons. Ezekiel was among them. His religious work is well-respected." There was a long breath and he turned again to the pair. "A bit off center mind you, but nonetheless. . ." His eyes found Josephine. "There have been some experiences I have had with him that gives me pause as to whether or not my son-in-law is as incorrect as some theologians have postulated." He cleared his throat, looking at Quentin.
"That is neither here nor there. They never made it. Their hosts waiting for them in Abyssinia notified us when the dirigible did not arrive as expected and a search was launched. Needless to say, there had been guards that were on board the ship and a wyvern that flew with them seeing as there were such notables aboard." He drew hard on his pipe and made a face. Moving to his desk, he cleared the bowl, refilled and relit before speaking again. His salted red brows met in the middle of his forehead and his jaw worked as he inhaled to speak again.
"It was brought down violently. I don't know why; there has been no ransom note, no word from any government or group. But you aren't to find him. I need you elsewhere as I indicated. I have people looking for him. And for my daughter."
"We understand, sir." Josephine turned from her inspection of their equipment and assets. They were meticulously prepared, as always. "I shall keep you informed of our progress via the usual. Mr. Humberstone," she added, focusing on the American. "I fully empathize with your reasons to help the Colonel find his missing daughter and son-in-law, yet I must remind you that it is not our task. Discovering the Romanians' intentions is. I realize you have no dog in this fight and you do not owe England a plug nickel, but I want you to know that your assistance is appreciated. Do we have it?"
Quentin bowed graciously. "Colonel, Miss Arceneaux, I would be honored to provide any and all assistance needed. You have already saved my life at least once and I aim to return the favor."
He grinned broadly. "Besides, an adventure through the Carpathians, with such lovely company, who could turn down such an opportunity?"
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