Wayra strutted up to the gate in the tall chain fence, the long blue feathers atop her head fluttering in the breeze. Beyond the fence stood a few long, low buildings near the edge of the bay, and beyond them Qhora could see the Middle Sea rolling darkly in the late day sun. To her left, the city of Valencia huddled close to the shore as though clinging to the feeble warmth of the sea.
The two guards at the gate looked up at the huge bird and glanced at each other. If she hadn’t been so tired from two days in the saddle, Qhora might have enjoyed their nervousness. “Good afternoon. I’m here to see Lord Admiral Magellan.”
The left guard said, “I’m sorry, miss, but the admiral left aboard the Arkangel several days ago. I can’t say when he’ll return.”
His answer wasn’t entirely surprising. As she rode up the coastal lane, she hadn’t seen anything in the bay matching Taziri’s description of the warship that shot down her aircraft. “Very well, then I need to speak to your commander. Immediately.”
“This is a military facility, miss. No civilians permitted without authorization. But I can deliver a message to Captain Ortiz, if you like.”
“I am Dona Qhora Quesada, wife of Don Lorenzo Quesada de Gadir, and I am here on behalf of Commander Rui Faleiro,” she said. “And I need to speak to your Captain Ortiz, in person, immediately.”
The names worked. The guard escorted her through the gate and across the yard to a small brick office flanked by a pair of small browning pine trees. Captain Ortiz greeted her curtly. “We haven’t heard from Faleiro in quite some time. He was due back over a week ago, according to my log. I suppose he ran into some weather on the road somewhere.”
“Actually, he was murdered on the road somewhere, between here and Madrid I believe.” Qhora wore her most professional bored expression. For two days, she had had nothing to do except to guess when she would stumble upon Valencia and to perfect her questions and answers for when she arrived.
“Murdered? By whom?”
“By an Italian named Salvator Fabris. I believe he was stationed here as well.”
Ortiz frowned. “He was. I thought he’d been discharged. You have evidence against Fabris? A witness?”
“A confession. He told my husband that he’d killed Faleiro.”
The captain sighed. “This is what happens when you let in foreigners. Begging your pardon, Dona, I mean Italians and Mazighs and so on, not New Worlders like yourself. This entire project has been twice as difficult since the admiral started bringing in his special contractors. And now they’re murdering our officers?” He glared as he shuffled the papers around his desk, yanked out a clipboard, and began scribbling notes. “I’m issuing a warrant for Fabris’s arrest. No doubt you and your husband will be summoned to testify against him, but that could be months away. No need to worry about it now.” Ortiz paused, then resumed writing on a fresh page. “And I’m shutting down the science experiment in the warehouse. No more nonsense on my watch until we get this foreigner business under control.”
Qhora smiled her best high-society smirk of flirtatious conspiracy. “A science experiment? Here? How bizarre! Whatever do you mean?”
“Oh, it’s this machine they brought in, apparently on Fabris’s orders. Something that he found out on the road last week.”
“What sort of machine? Like a locomotive? I visited Marrakesh once and saw two locomotives crash straight into each other. Can you imagine?” Qhora loathed the act right down to the little giggle and smile at the end of her questions, but she had no other leverage with this man and couldn’t risk being turned away empty-handed.
Ortiz shook his head. “No, ma’am, I cannot. But this machine is no locomotive. It looks like a damned bird. Lord knows why those Mazighs keep building these flying contraptions. If God wanted us up in the clouds, that’s where he would have put us in the first place.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Qhora rested her gloved hand on her chest, just below her little golden triquetra.
Ortiz offered her a polite smile and nod. “Well, Dona Qhora, I can’t thank you enough for coming all this way to report this Fabris matter to me. I promise you, it will be dealt with swiftly.”
“Thank you so much, captain.” She stood to leave. Her hand strayed to her empty purse and she thought of her empty saddlebags. “Oh, look at the time. It’s already so late in the day. Can you recommend a hotel where I might spend the night?”
Ortiz stood up. “Actually, my wife and I would be honored if you would stay the night with us, Dona. It’s the least I can do in return for your services today.”
Qhora smiled. Such predictable nobility. I almost regret manipulating him like this, but a twinge of regret is better than another night out in the cold. “Why thank you, captain, I believe I will accept your most generous offer.”