Free Blood Red (9781101637890) by Mercedes Lackey

our weight in food.
Part of the reason they had looked so rustic was that they had come prepared for Vienna, and were carrying
bags
of food, one each. Sausages, fruit, cheese—bread rolls had been easy to come by, since nearly every station had carts from local bakers outside it. By the time the train had left for Budapest, half their hoarded food had been gone.
    She left the dining car while the train sped through the countryside, feeling better again. In her compartment, which was identical to the last sleeping compartment she’d occupied, the bed had been turned down, her nightgown—freshened with lavender-water and ironed again—had been laid out for her. There was a pot of herb tea, a plate of
kuchen,
and a vase with a bouquet of flowers on the little table, and a clever little oil lamp, mounted to the wall on a gimbal that kept it level, burned above the head of the bed. Not feeling equal, after that sumptuous meal, to tackling that Latin book on shape-shifters, she resorted to the frivolous and sensational stories in the magazines that had been left invitingly on the bedside table. Then, she slept.
    When she woke, she was ready for the most complicated leg of the journey. Munich to Stuttgart, then the small local train from Stuttgart to Freudenstadt. Even traveling first class, with porters and railway employees at her beck and call, was not going to be easy alone, but she was rested and ready for it.
Much
readier than she and Hans had been, although at least from Freudenstadt to Stuttgart, they’d had the help of two fellow Elemental Masters—a Water Master in Freudenstadt, and a Fire Master in Stuttgart. She probably could have sent telegrams to them, asking for their aid again . . . but money made that unnecessary, and she was reluctant to disturb them when she had much more mundane help at hand.
    But then, the train began to slow. By the time she reached the dining car for breakfast, it had completely stopped.
    â€œThere is trouble on the line,” the steward told her, as he handed her a menu. “Some sort of accident, I believe. We will be about three hours late, the engineer tells us.” Then he smiled at her. “Do not concern yourself, good lady. This train is completely safe.”
    She made herself smile at him.
It isn’t the train I am worried about,
she thought unhappily.
It’s me.

3
    T HE train had been stopped for an hour, and the steward kept coming around urging wine and beer, and even stronger drinks, on the passengers in the parlor car. To Rosa’s mind, this did not bode well for whatever was causing the train to remain stationary. After about an hour, some of the gentlemen got up and went to the door of the car. By this point, Rosa herself was more than curious enough to do the same.
    The steward was not brave enough to try and interfere with the men, but he did interpose himself between her and the door, as the first of the gentlemen demanded—and got—the door open and the steps lowered. “Dear lady,” the steward said, trying to forestall her. “Please sit down, there is nothing to be concerned about.”
    â€œI am sure there is nothing to be concerned about,” she replied, making it very clear with her posture that she fully intended to get down out of the car and find out what was going on herself. “But I am not accustomed to sitting about for hours at a time. I require some air. I shall have a little walk.”
    The steward looked very much as if he wanted to stop her, but what could he do? He was only the steward, and she had enough money to be riding in the most expensive way possible. If he objected, while the other gentlemen might support him, it was far more likely that they would support her on the basis of class. He let her pass, and she alighted from the car onto the ground beside the track. They were in the midst of a forested part of the land—possibly some great estate’s private