That earned me a punch in the small of the back.
I saw an opening in the near-motionless line of cabs and gave the mare a gentle nudge. She leaped into it, sidestepped a sleek black carriage, and within moments we were scattering angry clowns and making good time toward the Hill.
Once off the bridge, we were confronted by another barricade, this one erected by a throng of House soldiers, each with the insignia of their House sewn over their hearts. They were polite and efficient and the sight of so many silver-tipped arrows peeking over the ranks of their shields left no one in a mood to bluster.
My turn came and went without incident. A man bearing the Avalante crest took our names and waved us through, and we were let through the line and onto the Hill proper.
The Hill bristled. Each and every House was transformed overnight into its own elegant fortress. Catapults lurked in every ornate rose garden. The oaks sported archers. Lawns were thick with lancers and infantry.
Everywhere, slack-jawed groundskeepers wrung their hands and wept.
If war did indeed come to Rannit, the invaders were going to face a bloodbath, at least on the Hill.
I doubted that the invaders had a foot campaign in mind. If I were in command of a flotilla armed with cannon, I’d simply float a barge down the Brown and bombard the Hill at my leisure, smashing the Houses to bits from a safe distance and trapping the populace between the Brown and the walls.
I shuddered at the thought. Avalante might have cannon of its own, but the pair I’d seen on the lawn would prove no match for a couple of barges bristling with the things.
We rode, challenged but never detained for long. Even houses with no love for Avalante proved cooperative.
Seeing the Houses holding hands and cooing was almost as disturbing as the thought of the cannon.
What was usually a twenty-minute ride took an hour. At last we reached the familiar face of Avalante, and we dismounted while a pair of stable boys led the mare off to Avalante’s stables.
I didn’t recognize the trio of day folk who greeted Darla and I. I did note that they already knew Darla’s name. We were taken immediately to the sitting room, each given cold tea and a decent ham sandwich, and were told we would be seen to as soon as possible.
Darla nibbled. I gulped.
“I expected the House to be darker,” she said, opening her sandwich and inspecting the ham.
I swallowed.
“It’s just ham. We’re guests here. They take that seriously, even if Evis isn’t around.”
She took a healthy bite.
“It’s not bad. Not bad at all.”
“Try to think of them as business associates.”
“I know. And I do like Evis. But-”
The door opened. The door opener wasn’t a day staffer, but Victor, wrapped in black silk and peering at us through black-lensed spectacles.
“Markhat. Miss Tomas.” He executed an old-world bow, obviously aimed at Darla, since he never bothered with such niceties when greeting humble finders. “Be welcome in our House.”
Darla stuck her half-eaten sandwich in my lap and stood, extending her hand. “Thank you,” she said. “A beautiful House it is.”
Victor took her hand, very gently, and shook it twice. Darla beamed.
Victor turned to me. “I regret that we are unable to communicate with our friends on the Regency,” he said.
There is nothing gloomier than a worried vampire.
“Why? Problems with the long talker?”
Victor shook his head. “Our technical staff believes the problem does not lie here,” he said. “They are unable to determine the nature of the failure.”
“Could it be the dingus at the other end?”
“The dingus, as you name it, is far less complex than the main device, which resides here. It was designed to withstand the rigors of travel.”
Darla put her hand on my shoulder.
“Surely the House has other means of communicating?”
Victor sighed again. The sound of it was that of long-trapped air hissing from an old dry place.
“These methods, too, have failed. Sorcerous and otherwise.”
I cussed. Darla squeezed my shoulder.
“That doesn’t mean they were overtaken. Could be a lot of things. Maybe the wand-wavers from Prince are just filling the Brown with silence spells.”
“Perhaps that is so,” said Victor. His tone suggested he entertained no such notion. “But we must prepare for the worst.”
“The worst being that the barges made it through, the Regency is sunk and four thousand cannon are nearly upon us.”
“Just so.” Victor produced a plain-looking bag from beneath his robes. I took it and nearly dropped it at the unexpected weight.
“More of the explosive rounds for your weapon,” he said. “Also, a contrivance which will allow it to be worn on your waist, much like a sword. The House judges the time for secrecy regarding the weapon to be ended.”
I gently let the bag rest on the floor.
“How many more rounds?”
“A thousand,” he said. “One standard issue.”
“Standard issue? You’re handing these out to the staff?”
“Many have already been trained in the use of small arms. Many more will see training this day. If war comes to Rannit, Markhat, Avalante has no intention of falling.”
Darla tilted her head, curious but unwilling to interrupt.
“You may both take refuge here,” said Victor. “Our chambers are deep. We have long prepared against this day.”
“Thanks. I mean that. But I’ve still got a case to round up, and my client is an unreasonable woman with small regard for petty excuses.”
That earned me another kick in the shins.
“What he’s trying to say, sir, is that we are honored by your offer, and if the time comes, we are honored to fight at your side.”
Victor bowed to her. If he was smiling behind that silk, I couldn’t see it, and didn’t want to.
“As you wish. Good luck to you both. I fear the coming days will be dark ones.”
“Good luck to you, too.”
He bowed again and was gone.
“A thousand what?” whispered Darla. “What contrivance? What weapon? Is that the thing you’ve been hiding in your coat pocket all day?”
“I’ll explain on the way home,” I said. “You need to pick out a dress. I need to polish some shoes. Aren’t we getting married tomorrow? I do seem to recall something about that.”
Darla doesn’t giggle often, but she did then, and we stole a kiss right there inside a house full of vampires.
Some days, you just never know where your path is going to take you.
The rest of that day is, even now, a blur.
I returned my borrowed mare, and in her place I took a sleek black carriage and a pair of sturdy-looking ponies. I repaid a confused shoemaker for the mismatched pair of shoes I’d looted. I sought out a few unsavory acquaintances in search of news of Japeth Stricken, but found my ne’er-do-wells either dead or fled. I even made the long trip to Elfways, hoping Granny Knot had found a pigeon bearing news from Pot Lockney on her windowsill, but found her shack bolted shut and silent
That left nothing to be done but prepare for my wedding.
False wedding, I reminded myself. Sham wedding. An effort to keep Tamar and her young man safe. That, and nothing more.
I watched Darla smile at me from across the cab and hoped she was thinking along the same lines.
As the co-owner of a gown shop, I assumed Darla could simply reach out in any direction and fill her hands with a gown appropriate for a wedding, even a sham one. I assumed some alterations might need to be made, and that would be the business of an hour or so, but I didn’t consider the matter likely to demand more time or resources than that.
Oh, how wrong I was. Within moments of arriving, Darla and Mary and even Martha Hoobin set about conducting what appeared to be a full-on ruthless ransacking of their wares.