The Time Roads

A note in the queen’s hand added: I want no questions in your mind when you start for the Continent. If you find anything lacking—anything, Aidrean—please apply directly to me.

He set down the paper. Laid his fingertips lightly upon the pages spread over the table, as though to read more from their texture. Considered the circumstances, the small details of the courier, these luxurious private rooms, the queen’s private words about trust, her public ones about his experience.

She wants someone who knows the Court, but who is outside it.

Someone skilled in delicate investigations.

Taking up the topmost report, he

started to read in earnest.

* * *

He read past midnight, taking notes as he went. By sunrise, he finished what little sleep came to him, and rose to prepare for his day. Lord Greagoir Ó Luain’s name came first on the agenda. At eight o’clock, Ó Deághaidh presented himself to Ó Luain’s secretary, who escorted him into the minister’s impeccable private office. It was a large pleasant room, lined by tall bookshelves and many cabinets. Ó Luain himself appeared hard at work. At Ó Deághaidh’s appearance, he set aside his pen and dismissed the several clerks who had been taking notes at his dictation.

“Commander Ó Deághaidh. Welcome. Would you care for coffee? Tea? No? Well, then, let us settle to the business at hand. Though to be quite honest, I’m uncertain how I might assist you.”

Ó Deághaidh smiled. “I believe the queen simply wishes to reacquaint me with her concerns, whether they touch directly upon this matter or not.”

Ó Luain pursed his lips, as though uncertain. “If you believe I have information you require, of course, I shall do my best.…”

Over the next two hours, Ó Deághaidh’s initial impression remained unchanged. The man appeared exactly as his reputation suggested—a conscientious servant of the Crown, and he answered all Ó Deághaidh’s questions with unfailing politeness. Yes, a civil war would prove unhealthy for the treasury. Éire had stretched itself thin over the past few years by sending aid to its many allies. And yes, any internal crisis of that proportion would certainly endanger the international exchange rates. No, he had not received any reports of unusual activity with banks or investment firms to indicate funds moving from the Anglian Dependencies to points east.

“None that are regular,” he added. “For the irregular kind, you must inquire of Lord De Paor.”

“Indeed I will, my lord.”

Their gazes met and held a moment, and Ó Deághaidh had the distinct sensation he was being studied as thoroughly as he had studied Ó Luain. Was he wrong about the man? Was his manner a disguise for something more sinister?

He was still pondering Lord Ó Luain’s character as he walked to his next interview, which was with Lord Mac Gioll. Mac Gioll had served as an officer during the Anglian Uprising thirty years before, and now advised the queen on military matters. He expounded upon the topic with more vigor than Ó Deághaidh expected for such an old man. “The sticking point,” Lord Mac Gioll said in his wheezing voice, “is when to signal the first shot.”

“Surely the first question begins with if, not when,” Ó Deághaidh said mildly.

Mac Gioll laughed softly. “You’ve not served in war, young man. However, I see your point. So then, let us return to the matter at hand. If the Anglians do succeed and bring their Balkan allies to these shores, here are the items that will govern our possible responses…”

He plunged into a detailed account of Éire’s four military branches, one for each of four knobby fingers, while Ó Deághaidh attempted to keep notes of the main points. The navy came first. It had blossomed in the last century, and proved well enough to defend against minor incursions, but clearly could not hope to equal the Dietsch Empire’s astonishing fleets.

“Hence our withdrawal from the Hindu and Judaic Protectorates, and the Far East,” Mac Gioll said. He bent one finger down, grasped the next. The aerial corps was a minor organization, used chiefly for reconnaissance, with two divisions. The aeroplane was an experimental device, its efficacy as yet unproved. The motored balloon showed a more immediate advantage. The army used it for tracking troop movements, but there was talk among the engineers about improving the balloon’s maneuverability. Some thought they might carry small cannons or firebombs.

“Soon?” Ó Deághaidh asked.

“Not before the next decade,” Mac Gioll replied. “So you see it is our army and our militia who guarantee our security.” Two more fingers bent over, as he went on to those branches. The army defended the kingdom and the neighboring Dependencies of Anglia, Manx, Wight, and Cymru; the militia concerned itself with internal matters. “Against disruptions. Uprisings.”

“Rebellions,” Ó Deághaidh said quietly.

Mac Gioll shot him a calculating glance. “Indeed. We’ve been fortunate these past few centuries, apart from the Revolt. My concern is that another uprising, combined with any significant crisis in Europe, would prove too much for us. It has been eight hundred years since Alba and Denmark came to our aid, to drive the Anglians from our shores. If we show ourselves weak, they might decide to abandon us. Indeed, Alba might elect to support its southern neighbor outright—they being citizens of one island, as the radicals like to remind us. We cannot afford that, not with the continent so uneasy.”

“Is it so uneasy then, my lord?”

For the first time during their interview, the older man hesitated. “You understand, I speak now of my own impressions, nothing more. There are, let us say, more incidents. More bickering and maneuvering between neighboring kingdoms. My fear is that any crisis, even a seemingly insignificant one, might incite violence, which, in the present atmosphere, would spread as rapidly as fire through dry kindling.”

Meaning war, of the kind Éire and the Continent had not witnessed for a hundred years or more.

They were all so circumspect, Ó Deághaidh thought, as he returned to his quarters for dinner. He had missed the clues in the first meeting, but clearly the queen’s ministers were uneasy amongst themselves. Of course they feared the possibility of an all-consuming war, but they also knew the queen had not shared all her thoughts about this current matter. If only he could remain at Cill Cannig another week to study the state of affairs at Court. It made no sense to send him off so ill prepared—not if the true problem lay inside Éire.

He sighed and shuffled through the papers, looking for that newest report about Montenegrin elections. There had been several notations added in the margins, something about the prince and his advisers.

What is this?