“I don’t think we can do this, without keeping everything a secret.”

Bixby spoke with both groups, plus Lady Finley, in a private room he had secured inside RVS headquarters.

“It’s true there’s not much secrecy,” Blair said, frowning. “Those bastards attacked my house. Someone obviously told them where I live, and that the Sergeant is my guest.”

“Yes, I think it’s apparent Darhaven’s tentacles reach throughout society,” Sharp said. “Witness the contacts we uncovered with the Septic Rats, and by extension what Mr. Chance found out about the Hobnobbers.”

Chance nodded at this, standing in one corner with his arms crossed. Twig stood beside him in the same pose. They leaned against the far wall.

“We’re certainly not going to tell anyone,” Hilda said from the table. She and her sister had given up trying to sit next to Rip, taking chairs across from the sergeant and Blair. “Secrecy is part of our lives, at least while in your country.”

“You could say it’s in our blood!” Liza said with a smile.

Nobody laughed.

Someone knocked on the door at that moment. Finley, who stood closest, opened it and Director Hedgefield walked in.

“Thank you for meeting with us, Earl Thorndale,” Bixby said.

“I presume this has something to do with all the hullabaloo around what you found in the vaults and the subsequent retributive attack on the sergeant and Lady Brooke.”

Bixby nodded.

“Now, don’t go and do anything rash. There’s retribution and then there’s getting yourselves needlessly killed. There is little point in the former and none in the latter.”

Sharp said, “We are discussing going down into the Ethinium vault, doing some exploration below Level Five, and perhaps wreaking a little havoc down there. Should we return, we could bring back valuable knowledge heretofore unknown to the Society.”

“Private party explorations are not covered under the Treaty of Ghent,” Bixby added. “They’re essentially a loophole for trespassing.”

Hedgefield frowned and said, “And private party explorers are rarely seen from again, if they go too deep. Especially in the big city vaults. You know this. There’s a reason our maps only go down to Level Five in Ethinium.”

“We do know this,” Bixby said. “Which is why we’re hoping you’ll approve the mission. Preferably keeping it secret while we prepare, to minimize problems.”

Hedgefield rubbed his chin, lost in thought for a moment.

“We’ll have to discuss this with the king. We’re the Royal Venture Society, after all, operating under his aegis. Let me send word to his office. I don’t know if he’s here today or back at the palace, but I’ll return as quickly as possible.”

He nodded to everyone in the room, turned and left.

Privately, Rip began wondering how hard it would be for one person to sneak into the vaults.

He had some experience, in Gretna Green, upon arriving in this world. But what gave him pause were the large number of sewer troopers who came after them.

He managed just fine with the occasional worker or trooper surprising him, but facing hundreds of armed men, or having that many chase after him, would make things much more difficult to go solo.

Bixby excused himself and returned a while later with a stack of papers and books from the Venture Society’s library.

He pinned one large sheet on a wall showing a map.

“This is Level One, what we know of it. It was recorded in 1732, during the Georgian Expedition.”

Rip stood and took a closer look, committing details to memory. Like Gretna Green, it seemed to be arranged in a very large circle, with some key differences.

“There are branches leading off here and here. Do we know where they go?”

“No, we do not, Sergeant.”

“What about that underground train depot? The city sewers would be right about on the vault’s Level One, right? Could one of these connect to the depot? All the troopers and Dar Caul came out of a vault door, after all.”

“It’s the right shape, isn’t it? Dash it all, I haven’t a map of Ethinium showing how the vault is situated. But I wager you are correct, Sergeant. If we had things lined up properly, we would likely see this offshoot leads to the train tracks we used yesterday.”

“I’m sure you’re right, Bixby old chap,” Sharp said. “I have a good memory for maps, and Chelsea would be down here, where that branch is pointing.”

“Right, then. So, already our knowledge of the Ethinium vault is improving.”

“We also have another way in,” Blair said. “If you will recall, I was able to discern the entrance code into the storage room set up by the Septic Rats. I imagine a similar device is used to secure the vault door we saw leading in. Rather than going through the Mendicant’s Entrance, which will likely be heavily observed by our people and theirs, we could try and sneak in from under Chelsea instead.”

“Capital idea, Lady Brooke.”

“What are we waiting for?” Rip said. “Let’s go down there and show them what for.”

Bixby said, “We still need to wait and hear what the king has to say, Sergeant.”

The wall Chance and Sharp leaned against slid backward suddenly, making both of them jump in surprise. It retracted a couple feet, then shifted to the right, making a doorway leading to a long tunnel with flickering gaslights.

King Allo stepped out, hands held judiciously behind his back. Jefferson Prescott followed, frowning at everyone.

The king stood in the cramped room, filled now with a slight smell of mildew from the tunnel. Everyone not already standing did so, while those already up stood at greater attention.

“Lady Brooke, my deepest condolences regarding your townhouse.”

She curtsied, making a proper show of it.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I left my maid in charge of repairs and hope the windows in my library are replaced soon.”

“Just so. Let me know if you have any troubles with the companies she hires to do the work. Nothing like a little pressure from palace bureaucrats to help speed things along, or make bills right.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

His attention shifted to Rip.

“Sergeant, few men have done as much for the crown in so little time. I wonder what you’ll do for us later today, and in the days ahead?”

“I hope to do a little exploring of the local steam vault, Your Majesty.”

“Yes, about that. My reason for this visit. Tell me, Sergeant. Just what do you hope to accomplish by going down there? How will you force Darhaven to make amends for damaging Lady Brooke’s home? What justice are you planning to extract on your journey?”

Rip opened his mouth to respond, then shut it. The king had a good point. What did he hope to accomplish by going down into the vault?

Allo said, “We suspect, but we’re not entirely certain, that the vaults open up even more the farther down one goes. Some of our boffins speculate the Ethinium vault might be as large as the city’s surface area. Would you destroy it all in the name of vengeance?”

Rip raised his eyebrows, acknowledging the point.

“Others think the vaults themselves go down quite deep. They suggest the great heat used to generate steam comes from reservoirs of lava far beneath the surface. I suppose they devised this theory based on volcanoes. Suffice it to say I have too little time to explore the Lyceum’s latest fancies.”

“Don’t forget Marco Polo’s account, my liege,” Sir Prescott said.

“Yes, yes,” Allo said with a dismissive gesture. “No one believes that story these days.”

Rip said, “We had a Marco Polo on our world. He journeyed to China and wrote of his travels. I take it yours went down into the vaults instead?”

“He did both, in fact. Supposedly he traveled deeper than anyone before or since. He tells the tale of entering the vault in Budapest with a Darhaven escort, and how by happenstance and skullduggery he managed to go down very deep and return to tell the tale.”

The king smiled then, as if humoring a child.

“According to Marco Polo, the vault in Budapest went so deep, it led to an inner world, where all kinds of fanciful creatures exist along with another civilization underneath the earth. No one believes him now, of course. It was thought his second book, about his travels through the vaults which he wrote after returning from the Orient, are purely fictitious. Did you have such stories on your world, Sergeant?”

Rip narrowed his eyes in thoughts. This sounded similar to fiction he had read as a child.

Out loud he said, “We had something known as the Hollow Earth Theory. It too was widely discredited by this time. But it didn’t come from Marco Polo.”

“Ah. Well, it’s good to know science prevails, regardless of the world. Now, as to your proposed mission, I will agree to it provided you limit your scope. You are not to destroy anything inside the vault that leads to energy production. However, if you find suitable objects for looting that will enrich you personally, feel free to take what you like. I am not enamored with Darhaven’s recent attacks on the surface. Personally, I agree that if we can learn how to make forays into their territory profitable for us and painful for them, perhaps this will temper their urges to raid us.”

Everyone in the room perked up at this pronouncement. Chance and Twig looked particularly pleased with the mention of profits. The eyes of the vampire sisters sparkled, too.

“If you get caught, and I must confess the odds seem very much stacked against you, based on prior raids, you will disavow that you are a military force which is strictly prohibited by the Council of Ghent, and you will aver you are on a private mission. This is an intractable condition I place on your going.”

Bixby looked around the room to gauge reaction to the terms. Everyone nodded at him.

“We accept the provisos, Your Majesty.”

“Good. Then I wish you fortune and Godspeed. Please report to me personally when you get back.”

He placed subtle emphasis on “when,” Rip thought.

Then the king turned and walked back through the secret door. Prescott nodded at everyone, and followed.

The door slid back into place, making a solid thud of stone against stone.