Wayfarer (Passenger 2)

The passivity of it had infuriated her, but to see the effects of breaking those rules now, even in the service of something good, was a little frightening.

Etta found herself in a stiff-backed chair without ever remembering sitting down. Henry settled into the chair beside hers. The tsar reclaimed his own.

“It continues,” Henry said. “I take it you became acquainted with two of my men?”

The tsar sat back in his seat, his hands folded over his chest, his initial pleasure dimmed. “I think perhaps you already know the answer to that.”

Henry tried for a smile. “Are you furious with me, then, Nicky?”

“I was many things,” the tsar said. “Defeated soundly by the once-inferior Japan. Humiliated in the eyes of my cousins and peers the world over. Chastised by the poorest of this country for the conditions they were subjected to. Sickened by the Duma taking more and more power, mine by birthright.”

Etta tried to fight her cringe as the man’s voice grew hoarse. “Betrayed by former allies. Humbled by the notion that I have failed to maintain the power of my father and his father before him. But alive. The tsar. My country struggles, as all do in the face of great change, but the reforms you encouraged have been a boon, including the cessation of pogroms against the Jews, which I would never have believed.”

“The recent disturbances…” Henry began, looking troubled.

“Already tidied up,” the tsar finished. “I will find a way to soothe the ruffled feathers.”

“I’m certain of it. But what of the treaties?”

“Breaking them came more easily than I might have imagined, with France aiding the revolutionaries, who were misguided in thinking one less monarchy would better the world. It was a simple thing to stand against political assassinations, given the history of my family. Serbia was a sacrifice, but one that kept us from the war.”

The First World War, Etta thought, straightening. Russia had lost millions of soldiers; the badly managed effort, the poor conditions at home, and the machinations of other governments had all led to the ousting of the tsar, and his own eventual assassination.

“I hated you. Bitterly, I’m afraid, for countless years,” the tsar said. “I cursed you with every breath. But I trusted you and prayed on each decision. Your family has been the steward of mine for many generations, the caretaker of this land for longer than even the Romanovs.”

As in…guiding their choices? Etta wondered. Advising them on the right ones to make?

How was that any different than what the Ironwoods were doing?

“I thought you were against interfering in the timeline?” Etta asked Henry, however rude they might think her for interrupting.

“Oh, no, Etta, it’s not quite like that,” he said, quickly. “We worked very diligently to protect the timeline from the changes other families were making, especially as they pertained to ruining the fortunes of this part of the world.”

“That is true,” the tsar said. “They have never bowed to the demands of my family for more information, for ways to overcome our enemies. They have been protectors, not puppeteers.”

Settled somewhat, Etta nodded. Henry turned back to the tsar.

“The Germans no longer had quite as much interest in your rule, did they,” Henry said knowingly, “once they considered you humiliated after the war with Japan. Did they even bother with Lenin?”

The tsar shook his head. “And now they are quite busy, as is the rest of the world, with pulling themselves back together after their own humiliation. Your traveler war seems to be the only one which cannot find its end.”

Henry smiled. “We might surprise you yet. Did one of my men indicate they would be hiding something in the palace during their visit in 1905? Do you recall?”

The tsar stroked his mustache. “I’m afraid not. They were harried and bloodied, in no state to do anything but hand off your letter. The guards were reluctant to let them in to see me. They were given food and rooms to rest, but by dinner they had fled again. I’ll have one of the maids show you to their rooms after dinner—you’ll stay and dine with me, won’t you? Your men will be busy searching. There are fifteen hundred rooms here, you’ll recall.”

And how many hundreds of hiding places in each? Impatience stirred in her. We’ll be searching for days.

“Where is your foe now? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you look quite so relaxed.”

“My spies have Ironwood safely ensconced in an earlier century, in Manhattan. His men are far too distracted by the changes in America to focus on you and your country.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” the tsar said, showing what Etta thought was admirable restraint in not pushing for more details. The man took only what was offered, though he probably had ways and means of demanding more. He reached back for his glass and held it up in Henry’s direction.

“Yes, thank you,” Henry said as the tsar crossed the room to a small cabinet, where a crystal decanter was stored.

“I’ll take one, too,” Etta said before she could stop herself. The tsar laughed as he poured out the liquor into the two glasses, but Etta wasn’t joking. She could have used the liquid courage to prop her nerves up. Her back only straightened as the tsar passed the glass to Henry and resumed his former position.

“Tell me about yourself, my dear,” he said. “I’m afraid you’ve got me at a disadvantage, as you likely know more about me than even I do.”