Council of Fire by Flint Eric & Hunt Walter H

Council of Fire by Flint Eric & Hunt Walter H

Author:Flint, Eric & Hunt, Walter H. [Flint, Eric & Hunt, Walter H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Action & Adventure, Historical, Adventure, Fiction, Alternative History, Fantasy
ISBN: 9781982124151
Google: D7PVwQEACAAJ
Amazon: 1982124156
Goodreads: 43822379
Publisher: Baen
Published: 2019-11-05T08:00:00+00:00


Discomfited by the conversation, Boscawen left the house and undertook a stroll through De Lancey’s carefully tended gardens. It reminded him—faintly—of a proper English garden. He assumed that the governor had imported someone from the home island to take care of it, a pretension to gentility that amused him.

Alexander’s remarks were disturbing, particularly at the end—that these so-called “ætheric nodes” could not only be places, but things or even people; and that whatever power they possessed, they were most potent where rationality was weak. What did that mean?

The alchemetical compass, when he had first seen it, had inclined itself toward him. What did that mean? If anyone was rational—and dear Frances, were she here, would certainly confirm it—it was Edward Boscawen. Magic wasn’t real; of course, neither were ‘Places of Bone,’ or sea-monsters, or obeah, or ghost Highlanders . . . rationality, William of Occam’s famous razor, suggested that his eyes and other perceptions did not deceive him and indeed those things did exist. And if they did . . .

As he examined an exquisitely trimmed piece of topiary, he saw the acting Governor of the Colony of New York, James De Lancey, approaching. The man clearly had some sense of how to act as a courtier, and he walked very slowly, giving Boscawen a moment to gather himself.

“Governor.”

“My Lord,” De Lancey said. “I trust you have not found the company incommodious.”

“I wanted a breath of air.”

“After a conversation with Jamie Alexander, I can certainly understand it.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“He’s an interesting fellow, Admiral.” De Lancey came up to stand beside him. He reached out and pulled a few stray leaves from the topiary as if the shape was somehow improper, and let his hands fall to his sides. “A recovering Jacobite, if you please. Though if my sources are accurate, that distinction no longer matters. We are all Whigs, we are all Tories now that we cannot return to England.”

“Your sources are good ones, Governor,” Boscawen said. “I agree; those distinctions no longer matter.”

“Which makes it more important that we work together, sir.”

“Of course.”

“Apropos of that . . . I don’t know if you are aware, Admiral, of the impact of the event on the economy of our colony, particularly our trade. Without putting too fine a point on it, New York is in . . . perilous circumstances particularly due to the lack of specie. We are goods-rich, but cash-poor. And gold makes the world go around.”

“An interesting turn of phrase,” Boscawen said. “What would you have me do, Governor?”

“If I am correct, My Lord,” De Lancey said, “your original destination was the Mediterranean, to take charge of British naval forces there. I suspect that it would not be too much of an exaggeration to assume that you were provided with some funds to pay them.”

“And if that conjecture is true?”

“Perhaps you might be willing to make some of those funds available.”

“What exactly do you mean by . . . ‘make available’?”

“I thought perhaps in the form of a quiet loan,” De Lancey said, absently pulling at another leaf in the topiary.



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