Free The Milkweed Triptych 01 - Bitter Seeds by Ian Tregillis Page B
Authors: Ian Tregillis
the damage was long done. A little consultation. What harm could it do?
Will made his decision. “I am, as ever, your most humble and obedient servant.”
In a far lighter tone, Marsh said, “Excuse me a moment?”
Will nodded. His friend went off to use the loo, sidling through the crowd that had swelled over the past half hour. Will cocked his arm over the back of his chair. The coquette’s friend hadn’t yet returned.
“We’ve been abandoned,” he said.
The woman in the cloche frowned. “Hmm?”
“I said,” he repeated over the din, “that our friends have abandoned us.”
“Oh.” The barest of smiles flitted across her face. Her eyes went back to watching the room.
Will sighed. He tried again. “May I join you?”
She didn’t say anything. He joined her. She frowned.
Marsh returned, looking puzzled and then startled when he saw Will sitting with her.
“It’s just that my dashing companion and I—” He indicated Marsh with a little flourish of the wrist. “—have been discussing the most peculiar matters. Cosmic matters, no less. But now that’s finished and a little light conversation would be the perfect aperitif before supper.”
She cocked an eyebrow at them both, sizing them up.
“Oh, I know, he isn’t much to look at.” Marsh glared at him. The woman had a musical laugh, like a carillonneur practicing the scales.
Will continued, “But that’s his modus operandi, you see. Lulling people into a false security. He’s quite the devil, I assure you.” He tapped the side of his nose. “The PM’s right-hand man.”
“Does every champion of the Crown blush so freely?”
“Au contraire
. That’s how a discerning eye knows he’s the true item.” Will winked. “Strength through humility, you know. What you’re seeing is a rare grace.”
“I see.” She nodded slowly, lips pursed in exaggerated reverence. “How impressive.”
“William Beauclerk.” He offered his hand to her across the table.
“Olivia Turnbull.” She brushed his fingers with a perfunctory tug. Will slumped in his chair. It took a blunt rejection to sting so sharply. Typically he was more successful with the fairer sex. Typically he usually didn’t sound like such a toff when he tried.
Blast
.
The brunt of her gaze fell on Marsh, eyebrows arched in amusement. “Does your crimson companion have a name?”
“Raybould Marsh. Um.” Marsh held out his hand. She took it. “Just Marsh, if you prefer.”
“Liv. Delighted.”
“Likewise,” said Marsh, looking poleaxed again.
three
3 August 1939
Reichsbehörde für die Erweiterung germanischen Potenzials
S pring and summer brought a host of changes to the Reichsbehörde during the run-up to war. Nobody called it that, of course, but Klaus could see how the little things added up into one coherent picture.
It had begun soon after Spain, when training regimens across the board went to live-fire exercises twice per week. And the training periods with nonlethal combatants doubled in length. “For endurance,” said the doctor.
Around the time that greenery returned to the surrounding forests, the Reichsbehörde received its first-ever visitors from the Oberkommando der Wehrmacht. But the officers from the military high command didn’t come for demonstrations. They came to speak with Gretel. Throughout the spring and well into summer, she attended numerous meetings with the doctor, Standartenführer Pabst, and the officers fromthe OKW. She never revealed what went on in those closed-door sessions, but Klaus suspected they were strategy discussions. Why else would the Reich’s military leadership spend so much time with a precog?
Gretel had been meeting with the OKW off and on for two months when the training regimens underwent more upheaval. Another first: the members of the Götterelektrongruppe started training in teams, no longer as solo operatives. They trained in pairs, trios, and quartets, practiced for every scenario
Will made his decision. “I am, as ever, your most humble and obedient servant.”
In a far lighter tone, Marsh said, “Excuse me a moment?”
Will nodded. His friend went off to use the loo, sidling through the crowd that had swelled over the past half hour. Will cocked his arm over the back of his chair. The coquette’s friend hadn’t yet returned.
“We’ve been abandoned,” he said.
The woman in the cloche frowned. “Hmm?”
“I said,” he repeated over the din, “that our friends have abandoned us.”
“Oh.” The barest of smiles flitted across her face. Her eyes went back to watching the room.
Will sighed. He tried again. “May I join you?”
She didn’t say anything. He joined her. She frowned.
Marsh returned, looking puzzled and then startled when he saw Will sitting with her.
“It’s just that my dashing companion and I—” He indicated Marsh with a little flourish of the wrist. “—have been discussing the most peculiar matters. Cosmic matters, no less. But now that’s finished and a little light conversation would be the perfect aperitif before supper.”
She cocked an eyebrow at them both, sizing them up.
“Oh, I know, he isn’t much to look at.” Marsh glared at him. The woman had a musical laugh, like a carillonneur practicing the scales.
Will continued, “But that’s his modus operandi, you see. Lulling people into a false security. He’s quite the devil, I assure you.” He tapped the side of his nose. “The PM’s right-hand man.”
“Does every champion of the Crown blush so freely?”
“Au contraire
. That’s how a discerning eye knows he’s the true item.” Will winked. “Strength through humility, you know. What you’re seeing is a rare grace.”
“I see.” She nodded slowly, lips pursed in exaggerated reverence. “How impressive.”
“William Beauclerk.” He offered his hand to her across the table.
“Olivia Turnbull.” She brushed his fingers with a perfunctory tug. Will slumped in his chair. It took a blunt rejection to sting so sharply. Typically he was more successful with the fairer sex. Typically he usually didn’t sound like such a toff when he tried.
Blast
.
The brunt of her gaze fell on Marsh, eyebrows arched in amusement. “Does your crimson companion have a name?”
“Raybould Marsh. Um.” Marsh held out his hand. She took it. “Just Marsh, if you prefer.”
“Liv. Delighted.”
“Likewise,” said Marsh, looking poleaxed again.
three
3 August 1939
Reichsbehörde für die Erweiterung germanischen Potenzials
S pring and summer brought a host of changes to the Reichsbehörde during the run-up to war. Nobody called it that, of course, but Klaus could see how the little things added up into one coherent picture.
It had begun soon after Spain, when training regimens across the board went to live-fire exercises twice per week. And the training periods with nonlethal combatants doubled in length. “For endurance,” said the doctor.
Around the time that greenery returned to the surrounding forests, the Reichsbehörde received its first-ever visitors from the Oberkommando der Wehrmacht. But the officers from the military high command didn’t come for demonstrations. They came to speak with Gretel. Throughout the spring and well into summer, she attended numerous meetings with the doctor, Standartenführer Pabst, and the officers fromthe OKW. She never revealed what went on in those closed-door sessions, but Klaus suspected they were strategy discussions. Why else would the Reich’s military leadership spend so much time with a precog?
Gretel had been meeting with the OKW off and on for two months when the training regimens underwent more upheaval. Another first: the members of the Götterelektrongruppe started training in teams, no longer as solo operatives. They trained in pairs, trios, and quartets, practiced for every scenario