Страница 90 из 91
“It would seem so.”
An uneasy silence fell over the meeting. It ended with two wordsfrom Edward Seymour: “And Prussia?”
“Yes,” Burton said. “The countess saw.”
Another pause.
“Tell us,” said Palmerston, quietly.
“The World War was originally set to begin some fifty years fromnow. Oxford's actions have brought it forward by at least adecade.”
“Christ!”
“The countess described the sequence of events. This is what wecan expect-”
For the next hour, Sir Richard Francis Burton described futurehistory. He told the king, the politicians, and his companions howthe Eugenicist exodus to Prussia would give that kingdom the meansto gain dominance over the German Confederation, incorporating itinto a greater union of the Germanic people. How Bismarck, toconsolidate the southern borders of his new country, would declarewar on France and defeat Napoleon III using biological weaponrydeveloped from the plant life currently infesting Ireland.
He outlined the arms race between the Technologists of theBritish Empire and the Eugenicists of the Germans; the emergence ofFriedrich Nietzsche as a visionary politician who would eventuallyoverthrow Bismarck; and Germany's aggressive expansionist policiesthat would, inevitably, lead to conflict on a massive scale.
When he finished, the room sank into a deep silence and stayedthere.
The politicians could not keep the horror from their faces. EvenPalmerston's inexpressive facade had somehow become dominated bythe shock in his eyes.
A minute ticked by, and then a voice came from the ceiling,amplified through a speaking trumpet in the mechanism above thetable.
It said: “Make me a different future.”
The men looked at each other.
“I shall put my people to work at once,” Brunel clanged. “We canstrengthen our navy; build an air force; design new weapons.”
“Good idea,” said Cornewall Lewis.
“Excellent,” said Edward Seymour.
“Absolutely not!” shouted Gladstone, who'd been assiduouslyavoiding Burton and Swinburne's eyes for the entire meeting. “Howin blue blazes are we supposed to finance it?”
“Impractical and impossible,” Lord John Russell agreed. “We'veonly just avoided a revolution by the skin of our teeth. If weraise taxes we won't need Russian lunatics to start anotherone!”
“Besides which,” Palmerston added, “the whole damned world willsay I'm warmongering. Starting an arms race now might precipitatethe conflict even earlier!”
Herbert wrote something and held it up: Diplomacy.
Cornewall Lewis snorted: “With Germans?”
“I have an idea,” Swinburne said.
Palmerston jumped to his feet and kicked his chair backward. Heclenched his hands together behind his back and paced up anddown.
“What about allies, Burton?” he barked. “Did your sorceresssuggest whom we might trust?”
“No, she didn't. I think we're on our own. Prime Minister, Algycan be quite insightful. I strongly suggest-”
“No! No! No! This is unacceptable! I will not go down in historyas the man who lost the Empire!”
“Assuming you're still prime minister when it happens,” SirRichard Mayne hissed quietly.
“-that you listen to what he has to say,” Burton finished.
His words were lost, for Palmerston had flown into one of hisinfamous rages. He kicked his chair across the floor, slapped aglass from the table, and yelled incoherently. His eyes were wild,yet through it all, his masklike face remained weirdlyimpassive.
The men waited for his tantrum to pass. It took three minutesbefore the prime minister seemed to suddenly deflate. He stoodpanting, glancing from man to man, his normally white featuresflushed.
“Madam Blavatsky used the diamonds to enhance her mediumistictalent,” Swinburne murmured. “And Richard used them to strengthenCountess Sabina's abilities.”
Palmerston gazed blankly at the diminutive poet. “What?”
“I'm merely suggesting that, if we ensure we possess all threeEyes of Naga, then perhaps we can gain the upper hand. We couldrecruit talented mediums and use the stones to accentuate theirpowers. We could divine the enemy's strategy. We could interferewith our opponents’ minds. We could wage a war of infiltration andenchantment. We could start now, and our enemies wouldn't even knowthat war was being waged upon them.”
Palmerston's mouth dropped open.
Burton said: “I told you he's worth listening to.”
The prime minister blinked rapidly, forced a breath out betweenhis teeth, and pulled his snuffbox from his pocket. He went throughhis usual ritual, which ended, as always, with a prodigious sneeze,and peered at the poet with one straight eye, while the other slidupward disconcertingly.
“Mr. Swinburne,” he said. “You are a god-damned bloody genius.”He addressed Burton: “The African stone?”
“You might have problems securing it,” the explorer warned.“Quite apart from the difficulties Africa itself presents, we knowthat nothing can fly over the region where the diamond isundoubtedly located. That suggests to me that some force of mind isat work, interfering with machinery in much the same way thatRasputin was able to jam guns.”
“So someone is guarding the Eye?”
“Someone or something, yes. And there's another problem.”
“What?”
“I think it highly probable that Lieutenant John Speke ispreparing a Prussian expedition to the region.”
With his top hat set at a jaunty angle and his cane swinging,Sir Richard Francis Burton strode along Gloucester Place.
A Folks’ Wagon beetle scuttled past, belching vapour. A littleboy, sitting on its rear bench, looked at Burton as the vehiclewent past and poked out his tongue. The king's agent glared at him,snarled, then crossed his eyes, puffed out his cheeks, and blew araspberry. The youngster laughed delightedly and waved.
A horse shied away from the steam-powered insect and overturneda vegetable stall. Onions and potatoes spilled onto the road andbounced across the cobbles. Shouts and curses followed the giantbeetle as it rounded a corner and scurried out of sight.
“Wotcha, ‘andsome,” crooned a streetwalker from a doorway.“Fancy a bit of ‘ow's yer father?”
Burton winked at her, flipped her a tuppe
Up ahead, a steam-horse emitted a clangourous racket, veered tothe right, and crashed into the side of a tavern. An elderly manemerged from the cab behind the engine and shouted: “Great heavens,man! You knocked the stuffing out of me!”
“It's the bleedin’ back axle, guv'nor!” the driver explained.“Third time it's broken this week!”
Burton turned into Montagu Place.
“Hey up, Cap'n! How's it diddlin’?” came a hail.
“It's diddling very well, thank you, Mr. Grub. How'sbusiness?”
“Awful!”
“The chestnut season is almost upon us. I'm sure that'll improvematters.”
“P'raps, Cap'n. P'raps. You been to see his nibs again?”
“The prime minister? Yes, I was summoned.”
“Well, I ‘ope you told ‘im that the lot o’ the common man ain'tno bed o’ roses.”
“I always mention it, Mr. Grub.”
“An’ he does bugger all about it! Bloody politicians!”
“A breed apart,” Burton noted.
“That's it in a nutshell, Cap'n!”
They paused while a rotorship roared noisily overhead. Mr. Grubshaded his eyes and looked up at the enormous vessel. “What's thatwhat's wrote on the bottom of it?” he shouted.
Burton, who knew the street vendor was illiterate, said: “It israther hard to make out, isn't it? I think it says: Make a new lifein India. Space, spice, sunshine, and all the tea you candrink!”
The mighty ship slid away over the rooftops.
“You've been to India, ain'tcha, Cap'n? Would you recommendit?”
“It has its attractions.”
“But not for the likes o’ me, I suppose. I reckons I'm betteroff ‘ere on me own little corner of good old Blighty! Got me ownpatch, ain't I! What more can a man arsk for?”