relaxed her grip on the door. “What do you want with her?”
“That’s my business, eh?”
Hannah licked bathwater from her top lip. “And how do you think I can help?”
“You might know where she is.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I think you have influential friends, Miss von Ense. I think you can help me, eh?”
“Let’s say you’re right, and I can help you. What do I get out of it?”
“You know how I work. You know what I can do. I might be inclined to owe you a favour, eh?”
Hannah drummed her fingers on the door, beads of condensation beading beneath her grip. “How did you find me?”
“My new employer is most effective at tracking people within Britain.” Blaidd shrugged, “Less so on the continent. They have been following your master’s movements for some time. They believe you or he might know of the whereabouts of Miss Hanover.”
“You are working for the English?” Hannah laughed. “I thought you Welshmen had principals?”
Blaidd sighed. “I agree it is a little ironic.”
Hannah pressed her bare foot against the toe of Blaidd’s boot. “Be in the lounge by the dining room at eight o’clock.” She looked at his grubby tunic and rain-sodden shirt sleeves. “Find something to wear and be ready to assist me.”
“With what?” Blaidd removed his toe from the door.
“With whatever I ask.” Hannah gripped the door handle and slammed the door shut. The flame light from the sodium crystals burning to both sides of the cabin flickered across Blaidd’s scar-lined face as the bulkhead absorbed the shock of Hannah’s door closing.
“I say. You there,” a tall passenger stepped out from the adjacent cabin. “What’s all that noise?”
“Nothing, sir,” Blaidd spread his hands wide. “I apologise.”
“Well, no matter then,” the passenger recoiled from Blaidd’s dirty and dishevelled appearance.
“However,” Blaidd studied the passenger. “That is a very fine suit you are wearing, sir. Will you be dining with your wife this evening?” He took a step closer.
“My wife? Oh, no,” the passenger shook his head. “I am travelling alone.”
“Really?” Blaidd’s mouth stretched into a crooked smile. “That is interesting.”
Chapter 8
Arkhangelsk
Russian Empire
May, 1851
The last rays of the sun lit the tall lead-gilded windows of the Moryana Railroad Station with a burst of copper, red and gold. Stepan placed his hand on Lena’s shoulder, slowing the Cossack warrior to a slow walk as they ducked beneath the low brick wall and waited for the others to join them. Vladimir lugged the Puckle Gun over one shoulder, lowering it to the ground at Lena’s feet as he crouched by the captain.
Stepan nodded at the ground next to him. “Take a break. We are almost at the gate.”
Vladimir cast a glance over the wall at the station glowing in the sun before resting next to Stepan. “Are you sure, Kapitan? Sure you want to leave me to find Nikolas?”
“ Da , I am sure,” Stepan nodded. “But not happy about it.” He paused as the two Cossack men accompanying Lena scuffed their boots in the dirt as they slid to a stop beneath the lip of the wall, dropping three small crates of ammunition at their feet. Stepan looked at Lena. “We are all here then.”
“You have a plan? Because I cannot drive a steam train.” Lena picked up a handful of pebbles from the ground.
“I hope to convince some of the engineers to come with us.”
“Convince?” Lena laughed, the pebbles rattled in the palm of her hand as she shook them. She tapped the barrel of the Puckle Gun. “I think we can convince them.”
“Bad choice of words,” Stepan wiped the dust from his hands. “Remember, Lena Timofeyevich, these men and women are from Arkhangelsk. They are our people.”
“ Your people,” Lena jabbed the knuckle of her finger at Stepan’s chest. “ My people are free, beyond the gates of the city.”
“What is your plan, Kapitan,” Vladimir shushed
“That’s my business, eh?”
Hannah licked bathwater from her top lip. “And how do you think I can help?”
“You might know where she is.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I think you have influential friends, Miss von Ense. I think you can help me, eh?”
“Let’s say you’re right, and I can help you. What do I get out of it?”
“You know how I work. You know what I can do. I might be inclined to owe you a favour, eh?”
Hannah drummed her fingers on the door, beads of condensation beading beneath her grip. “How did you find me?”
“My new employer is most effective at tracking people within Britain.” Blaidd shrugged, “Less so on the continent. They have been following your master’s movements for some time. They believe you or he might know of the whereabouts of Miss Hanover.”
“You are working for the English?” Hannah laughed. “I thought you Welshmen had principals?”
Blaidd sighed. “I agree it is a little ironic.”
Hannah pressed her bare foot against the toe of Blaidd’s boot. “Be in the lounge by the dining room at eight o’clock.” She looked at his grubby tunic and rain-sodden shirt sleeves. “Find something to wear and be ready to assist me.”
“With what?” Blaidd removed his toe from the door.
“With whatever I ask.” Hannah gripped the door handle and slammed the door shut. The flame light from the sodium crystals burning to both sides of the cabin flickered across Blaidd’s scar-lined face as the bulkhead absorbed the shock of Hannah’s door closing.
“I say. You there,” a tall passenger stepped out from the adjacent cabin. “What’s all that noise?”
“Nothing, sir,” Blaidd spread his hands wide. “I apologise.”
“Well, no matter then,” the passenger recoiled from Blaidd’s dirty and dishevelled appearance.
“However,” Blaidd studied the passenger. “That is a very fine suit you are wearing, sir. Will you be dining with your wife this evening?” He took a step closer.
“My wife? Oh, no,” the passenger shook his head. “I am travelling alone.”
“Really?” Blaidd’s mouth stretched into a crooked smile. “That is interesting.”
Chapter 8
Arkhangelsk
Russian Empire
May, 1851
The last rays of the sun lit the tall lead-gilded windows of the Moryana Railroad Station with a burst of copper, red and gold. Stepan placed his hand on Lena’s shoulder, slowing the Cossack warrior to a slow walk as they ducked beneath the low brick wall and waited for the others to join them. Vladimir lugged the Puckle Gun over one shoulder, lowering it to the ground at Lena’s feet as he crouched by the captain.
Stepan nodded at the ground next to him. “Take a break. We are almost at the gate.”
Vladimir cast a glance over the wall at the station glowing in the sun before resting next to Stepan. “Are you sure, Kapitan? Sure you want to leave me to find Nikolas?”
“ Da , I am sure,” Stepan nodded. “But not happy about it.” He paused as the two Cossack men accompanying Lena scuffed their boots in the dirt as they slid to a stop beneath the lip of the wall, dropping three small crates of ammunition at their feet. Stepan looked at Lena. “We are all here then.”
“You have a plan? Because I cannot drive a steam train.” Lena picked up a handful of pebbles from the ground.
“I hope to convince some of the engineers to come with us.”
“Convince?” Lena laughed, the pebbles rattled in the palm of her hand as she shook them. She tapped the barrel of the Puckle Gun. “I think we can convince them.”
“Bad choice of words,” Stepan wiped the dust from his hands. “Remember, Lena Timofeyevich, these men and women are from Arkhangelsk. They are our people.”
“ Your people,” Lena jabbed the knuckle of her finger at Stepan’s chest. “ My people are free, beyond the gates of the city.”
“What is your plan, Kapitan,” Vladimir shushed
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