The Crimson Skew Read Free

using it to describe any number of things,” she put in. “Weather disruptions that have been happening all month. Sinkholes, storms, flash floods, even earthquakes.”
    â€œâ€˜A second sinkhole in Charleston,’” Wren read from the paper he had picked up, “‘consumed Billings’s crossroads to the west of the city, and noxious fumes were reported emerging from the sinkhole the following evening.’” He paused. “And on the coast off Upper Massachusetts, the anvil clouds obstructed a lighthouse, causing two shipwrecks.” He shook his head. “New Occident seems to be experiencing very strange weather.”
    â€œIt’s very worrying,” Goldenrod said, her green brow furrowed. “So many unusual patterns at once cannot be coincidental.”
    â€œYes,” Calixta murmured. “Bad weather. Always annoying. Any
important
news?” she asked meaningly.
    Wren glanced at the paper again. “Skirmishes in the Indian Territories, but they are described in only the most general terms.”
    â€œI very much doubt the veracity of these reports,” Goldenrod said.
    â€œNaturally,” Calixta agreed. “One wonders about the reliability of the sources, and I have no doubt that Broadgirdle is doing his best to shape what we do and don’t know. Where is my useless brother?” she asked pleasantly, and considered aslice of cake drizzled with honey. “We have plans to make.”
    â€œI am here,” said a groggy voice from the doorway. Burr’s handsome face was still heavy with sleep as he staggered into the room. “I heard a rumor that somewhere in this fantastically overstaffed mansion one could procure a hot cup of coffee. Is it true?”
    â€œOh, poor thing. You were expecting it to appear at your elbow when you woke up?”
    â€œI was, rather,” Burr grumbled, pouring coffee into a porcelain cup. “But you have trained everyone who works here to think of it as
their
mansion, and they are wonderfully independent thinkers, so apparently what I expect counts for very little.”
    â€œYou will feel better after the coffee, my dear neglected brother.” Calixta pushed a plate toward him. “Have some cake. We need to find a way to get in touch with Shadrack, and we need to decide on our entry point to New Occident, since all the ports are closed to us.”
    â€œNew Orleans, surely,” Wren said, sitting down at the table beside her.
    â€œIf the
Swan
can take us to New Orleans, Errol and I can take Sophia north through the Indian Territories,” suggested Goldenrod.
    â€œIs that not too much of a detour for you?” Much as Sophia wanted their assistance, she was well aware of how every day prevented Errol from searching for his brother. Indeed, she was well aware of how every member of the company wasthere because of her, accepting risk and inconvenience on her behalf.
    â€œWe go as far as you do, miting,” Errol assured her. “Until we see you safely back in Boston with your uncle.”
    â€œThere is no safety to be had in Broadgirdle’s Boston,” Burr commented dourly.
    â€œThe Ausentinian map says we are to part ways,” Sophia said carefully, voicing the concern that most troubled her. “I know we have discussed this before—”
    â€œYou put too much stock in the divinatory power of those little riddles, sweetheart.” Calixta patted her hand.
    â€œHowever much the Ausentinian maps may prove true in retrospect, we cannot plan to separate because they predict that we will separate,” said Errol.
    â€œHe is right, Sophia,” Goldenrod agreed.
    â€œBut they are not little riddles,” Sophia insisted. They had gone over this many times on the Atlantic crossing. “Everything the maps have said has come true. And I am not saying we should plan to separate. What I am saying is that we should use the map to anticipate what might