The ride back to Mills’s place was silent.
He snoozed. I pondered. Evis had gone to a lot of trouble to hold a brief conversation, which meant it must have been important.
Mention of our mutual friend meant Hisvin, of course. And asking me to convey his thanks was Evis’s way of letting me know he had something brewing with the Corpsemaster-something so private he didn’t want it spoken, even in Avalante.
And if that wasn’t bad enough, he’d told me to keep Toadsticker handy.
My sword was a gift from Evis himself, last year. Its steel holds a charm against the halfdead.
Which makes his mention of my need of it doubly worrisome.
Trouble among the Houses? Trouble within Avalante itself?
Or perhaps one of the other dark Houses had decided to throw in with the invaders from Prince.
Which would make Evis and I prime targets for all sorts of unpleasantness.
I cussed. Mills stirred. I was going to keep Toadsticker handy, all right. To the point of bathing and sleeping with the hilt in my hand.
I dropped Mills off in front of his flophouse. He yawned and waved and vanished in the shadows.
My driver thumped the roof, wondering where to go next.
“Cambrit,” I said. “Take a couple extra turns. Make it a long trip.”
“You got it.”
I settled back, shut the curtain and sat in the dark all the way there.
I managed to get in and out of my office without suffering a beating. When I emerged, I carried a bag stuffed with clothes and shoes and shaving gear, and Toadsticker was on my belt.
Hillbillies under a hex I could risk. Halfdead with murder on their minds was another matter entirely. My door was built to keep out drafts and rain, not monsters.
I knew I could bunk at Avalante, if I wanted. And the idea did hold some appeal. But it would be hard to work a case from a walnut-paneled guest room, and I did have a case to work.
I bade my driver to just take turns at random while I tried to put together a plan. I’d have to sleep at some point. I’d need a place to change clothes. Darla’s was out, since the last thing I wanted to do was drag her into trouble involving the Houses. Ditto for just picking the lock on Mama’s door and sleeping there.
I’d need a hotel, then, until this mess was over or Prince’s cannons loosed damnation on the walls.
I sighed as I felt my pockets grow lighter yet again.
But I was in no hurry. I gave the cabbie Mary’s address, and on a whim included Lethway’s office building, and told him to take the most circuitous route he could imagine.
He did a good job of it. I watched the windows and the darkened, empty streets. If anyone was following us, they were doing it on foot, and if they were following us on foot they were quite the runner, because we kept a breakneck pace the whole way.
Of course, a couple of halfdead could pace us without breathing hard, but it doesn’t pay to entertain such pessimism when there’s not a damned thing you can do about it.
We passed by Lethway’s dark office building just as the Big Bell pounded out Curfew. At first glance, it appeared to be deserted, shut up for the night, but then I saw a bit of light under the blinds, and I realized the windows were shuttered and closed-not truly dark.
And then there were the three carriages parked out front. Their teams were steaming with fresh sweat in the glow of the street lamp. So there were people inside, doing whatever it is mining outfits do in the wee hours when the rest of Rannit sleeps.
From there we made for Mary’s neighborhood, finally reaching it an hour later. I liked the street immediately, even in the dark. There was a cheerful, wholesome quality to it, even though the homes were small and could have used a bit of paint and some new shingles here and there.
Mary’s house showed light in all the windows. I had the driver take us by slowly while I opened the window and listened.
I heard a snatch of laughter that was not Darla, but was female and untroubled. I was about to tell the driver to head out when the unmistakable yapping of Mr. Tibbles sounded from within Mary’s house.
I called us to a halt. The yapping of a tiny dog rang out loud and clear.
And if Mr. Tibbles was yapping away in Mary’s house, then Tamar wasn’t far away.
I cussed and told the driver to wait and did my best to hide Toadsticker under my coat as I made for Mary’s door.
Her porch light flared as I cleared the last five porch steps. Darla met me at her door. From the laughing and talking in the background, I didn’t think anyone but Darla even knew they had a visitor.
She lifted a finger to her lips,
“I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you,” she said. “Tamar is here.”
“I heard Mr. Tibbles.” I forced away my scowl. It wasn’t Darla I was angry with. “Half of Rannit can hear Mr. Tibbles. Why isn’t she hiding?”
Darla grabbed my arm and hauled me inside. A kiss may have taken place. There were no witnesses to the event.
“She got spooked, hon. She swore somebody was watching her. So she sneaked out and went to my house.”
“But you weren’t there.”
“No. But she knew I’d only be one of two other places.”
“So she spent the evening gallivanting around Rannit. Carrying a tiny barking dog, just to make sure everyone everywhere noticed her. Brilliant. Wonderful.”
Darla hugged me tight.
“I know. But she was afraid. She’s here and she’s safe.”
“Nobody here is safe as long as she’s here.” I managed to peek out the door. The street was still empty and quiet. “This isn’t good, Darla. It isn’t good at all.”
Tamar and Mary came rushing into the room. At the sight of me, Mary squealed and charged back the other way, and Tamar and Darla laughed.
“You’ve seen her in her nightgown,” said Tamar. Mr. Tibbles yapped at me from the crook of her elbow. “Good thing Darla is here, or you’d have to marry her, you know.”
“Miss Fields.” I took off my hat and hung it on a hook by the door. “It’s a good thing Darla is here for you, too, or I’d be forced to raise my voice. What made you think charging around town after dark was a good idea?”
She didn’t flinch. “I was being watched, Mr. Markhat. I’m sure of it. So I wrapped Mr. Tibbles in a towel and I stole a maid’s wrap and I sneaked down to the kitchen and then I walked out with a bag of trash, and I’m not sorry.”
Mr. Tibbles indicated his agreement by baring his teeth and growling.
I sighed and pulled one of Mary’s kitchen chairs around and sat on it.
“Tell me why you think you were being watched.”
“I peeped through the curtains sometimes. The same man was on the same corner all afternoon. He didn’t even move to the shade when the sun got hot. I know all of Daddy’s men, Mr. Markhat, and the man I saw wasn’t one of them. I left everything in my room. If they go in they might think I’m still somewhere in the hotel. Was that a smart thing to do, Mr. Markhat?”
I nodded. It was, actually. People seldom just walk away from their things, even when clinging to them puts them in peril.
“Still. You took an awful risk. Why didn’t you go home?”
“Because Father would have just sent me back there, Mr. Markhat. Or to another hotel. I’m tired of hiding. My wedding is just days away. Now then. Have you found Carris yet?”
Darla hid a grin.
“I’m close,” I said. “After tomorrow night, I hope to know who has him, or at least know more about them.”
Tamar nodded but did not smile.
“The caterers have been paid in full,” she said. “They need to know when to start icing the cake.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Darla shot me a look. “But you can’t stay here that long.”
“Mary said I could stay as long as I want.”
“Tamar, dear,” purred Darla. “He’s gruff, but he knows his business. I’m sure Markhat knows a better hiding place.”
“I do indeed. But moving her tonight isn’t the best way to handle things. We need crowds to hide in. Too, my Avalante carriage isn’t exactly inconspicuous.”
Tamar beamed and scratched Mr. Tibbles behind his scruffy little ears. “Did you hear that, Mr. Tibbles? We’re spending the night with Mary.”
“Are all the doors locked?”
Darla nodded. “Doors and windows.”
“Good.” I rose. “Lock this one after me.”
She frowned. “You’re leaving?”
“Only to send my driver home. I’ll be right back. Does Mary have a fireplace?”
“Of course. Why?”
“Then she has a fireplace poker. Keep it handy.” I kissed her on the nose and peeked through the door glass and then opened it quickly and waited there until I heard the locks click.
I asked my driver to ride around Rannit for a couple of hours before heading home. If anyone was keeping an eye out for finders in borrowed black carriages, that ought to prove amusing.
Then I headed back to Mary’s cheery little bungalow, my hand on Toadsticker’s hilt. I got indoors without incident, and I placed a straight-backed wooden chair across from the front door and angled it so I could see the room behind me.
Mary has a fancy brass clock on the mantel above her fireplace. It ticked and tocked the whole night long, while I watched windows and doors and fought off sleep by holding Toadsticker out level with my chest and balancing a glass on his blade whenever I felt the urge to doze.
Darla hadn’t asked where I intended to take Tamar. I still wasn’t sure. A hotel downtown, under an assumed name, I decided. With Mills idling in the lobby and keeping an eye on the stairs. I could hit up Fields for reimbursement later, and it was only then that I realized I no longer trusted the baker enough to tell him where I was hiding his daughter.
The brass clock struck out the third small hour when Darla emerged, wrapped in a blanket, sleep in her eyes. She curled up on the floor next to me and wordlessly went to sleep, her hand in mine.
Darla is beautiful, by the way. Far too beautiful to be walking out with a rogue such as I. But here she was, at my side.
Evis’s admonition to keep Toadsticker handy ran hobnailed through my mind. Hell, I was putting her at risk every day. If halfdead weren’t out there lurking, the kidnappers might be.
All because of me.
She opened her eyes for a moment and looked up at me and smiled and then fell fast asleep. In that brief moment, it appeared as if she was about to speak.
I listened to the wind outside, and I wondered until sunrise just what it was she might have said.
Mary appeared, clad in a high-necked dressing gown that concealed her so completely I would have been hard-pressed to identify her species, much less her gender. She shooed me into a corner and set about bringing her kitchen to life.
Bacon fried. Biscuits baked. Eggs scrambled. Toast toasted. Coffee perked, making wet sputtering noises that roused the rest of the ladies.
I was elected to take Mr. Tibbles for his morning constitutional. He appeared to be no more thrilled with the task than I, but apart from pulling at his leash and trying to hike his leg on my right boot, he behaved well enough.
I never left Mary’s yard. I did scandalize the neighborhood by waving to her sleepy-eyed neighbors and introducing myself as her beau until Darla dragged me back inside.
Tamar and Mary were already seated and dining. Two plates waited for Darla and I.
“Good morning, Mr. Markhat. Did Mr. Tibbles behave himself?”
“He was a model of decorum, Miss.”
“Are you still angry with me for leaving the hotel?”
“Furious, Miss. But I believe in letting bygones be bygones.” I munched on some sausage and swallowed. “You know you can’t stay here, though.”
“She can stay as long as she kens ta,” said Mary. “’Tis my house, and my say.”
“But she kens to go with me,” I replied. “Because if she doesn’t, I’ll do one of two things. One, I’ll just head downtown and tell her father where she is, and he’ll be along to fetch her and none too happy about it. Or two, I’ll put her over my shoulder and carry her out.”
Mary laughed. “Aye, I reckon ye would at that.” She topped off my coffee cup with a bitter black brew as strong as anything I ever drank in the army.
“Mr. Tibbles wouldn’t like that,” said Tamar. “Neither would I. But would you really? Men are always saying things they really don’t mean, just because everyone thinks they do.”
“He means it,” said Darla. “And he’s right. There are safer places. Places only a finder would think of. Isn’t that right, dear?”
She caught me with a mouthful of scrambled eggs, so I just nodded.
Tamar sighed. “Well. If you think it’s a good idea, then…all right. We’ll go.” Her face took on a sudden expression of genuine concern. “You aren’t about to tell me I have to leave Mr. Tibbles behind, are you? Because I won’t. I simply won’t.”
I swallowed. “No. Never. He goes where you go. That’s a promise, Miss. Me to you.”
She beamed. “I knew you wouldn’t really go and fetch Father. You’re not that kind of man.”
“Thanks. I think.” I drained my cup and wiped crumbs off my chin with one of Mary’s embroidered white napkins. “Finish up, ladies. We’ll be leaving soon. I’m going to go sit on the porch and see if anyone takes notice.”
“Where are we going?” asked Tamar. “Is it a secret place? Somewhere forbidding and mysterious? Will I need a hat with lace, or a veil? I have both. You never know which you’ll need, so I brought one of each.”
I dived in when she paused for breath.
“A veil, then. Mary, thank you for breakfast, and your hospitality.”
“Aye.” She shoved a paper bag of biscuits toward me. “Ye might be wantin’ them for later.”
I took the bag and headed for the porch. Darla followed me out while Tamar shoved bits of bacon toward an anxious Mr. Tibbles.
“So, have you decided where to stash Tamar, dearest?”
“Of course I have. All part of an intricate scheme I formulated long ago.”
Darla laughed. “In other words, you’re making this up as you go.”
“I prefer to think I’m acting with situational awareness in a fluid event dynamic.”
“You’re already talking like a general.”
We kissed at that point. A passing cabbie shouted his approval.
“You’re going to work?”
“As long as we have clients, and we do. Not everyone has headed for the hills.”
“Good for them.” I brushed her hair back, and a vagrant breeze pushed it right back on her forehead. “I’ll stop by before the store closes.”
Her brow furrowed.
“Oh.”
“Oh? Had you rather I not?”
“No, no, not at all. It’s the way you said it. You’ve got something going on after Curfew tonight, don’t you?”
I did indeed. A meeting with Lethway, who’d tried to murder me when last we sat down to fancy cigars and light conversation.
“Nothing terribly dangerous. And I won’t be alone.”
She grabbed me and shivered.
Tamar barged out, bag in her right hand and a squirming Mr. Tibbles in her left.
“We’re ready to go,” she said. Mr. Tibbles yapped his assent. “Isn’t this exciting? Is Darla coming too? I wore the veil. I can put Mr. Tibbles in the bag when we get there. You won’t mind, will you, Mr. Tibbles?”
Darla laughed softly and let me go.
“Be careful,” she said, and then she was off.
I darted out to hail a cab.
There’s a trick to hiding young women in fancy hotels. If you ever need to do so, never mind the reason, there’s a right way to do it, and a wrong way.
The wrong way seems the best way to honest folk. They think that by slipping furtively into the hotel and speaking in hushed tones to the desk clerk and paying in cash and calling yourself Mr. Smith you’ll simply sink down into a blessed state of total obscurity.
That’s why honest people are so easy to find.
Taking the sneaky approach just brands you as one of two things, in the minds of hotel staff. You’re either sneaking around on your spouse or you’re hiding from someone. So when inquisitive sorts start asking questions and perhaps handing out coins to the talkative, the hiding place is revealed as surely as if a giant hand reached down and ripped off the roof.
That’s the wrong way.
The right way?
Tamar rushed into the hotel lobby a dozen steps ahead of me. The pillow she’d placed under her blouse did a credible job of simulating the middle stage of pregnancy. She let me get in the door and take a single step before she turned on me and let loose a stream of loud, heartfelt invective that turned the heads of everyone in the lobby.
Once all eyes were upon us, she took off her wedding ring, which was actually a bauble purchased moments ago from a shady street jeweler for a couple of coppers, and flung it at my face.
“I told you if your mother didn’t leave I would,” she screamed, putting just enough screech into it. “I will not spend another hour under the same roof as that mean-spirited old warthog!”
“Honey,” I said, raising my arms in surrender. “It’s just another week-”
“You said that last week. And the week before.”
Right on cue, Flowers rushed in, freshly scrubbed and wearing the first new shirt he’d ever seen, much less worn. I didn’t trust his accent or his diction, so I’d told him to keep his mouth shut, and he did.
“Come, Reginald,” said Tamar to Flowers. “See? He can’t stand your mother either. Now pay the man, and pay him enough to keep me here until you remove that awful woman from my house!”
And with that, she turned and stormed up the stairs, Flowers in tow.
The room was suddenly filled with barely-suppressed snickering. I made a heavy sigh and approached the desk clerk, a grinning little man in his early hundreds, with my hands in my pockets.
“Trouble to home, is that it, sir?” he asked.
“Guess you could say that.” I leaned on the counter and lowered my voice to a whisper. The room went as silent as a tomb, as two dozen ears strained to hear something that wasn’t a bit of their business.
“How much for a room for the wife and son, for, let’s say, a week?”
“Might be cheaper to just rent one permanent-like for your mother.”
Laughter rippled through the lobby. The old man cackled.
“Have a heart. How much? I can’t move Mother now. She’s taken to her bed. What am I supposed to do?”
He cackled and named a price. It was a quarter again too much, but I didn’t haggle.
I did tell him my name was Smith, which touched off another round of laughter, and that I’d also want to purchase extra meals for the boy and laundry service for the wife. More coins changed hands. My next sigh was very real.
But it had worked. Anyone sniffing around for word of a single young woman who kept to herself and never left her rooms would be greeted with shrugs and shakes of the head. Tamar was an angry pregnant wife with a son in tow and a milksop for a husband.
And that, my friends, is the right way to hide a woman in plain sight.
I left my curiously estranged wife and headed for Granny Knot’s humble abode. Granny has a shack off Elfways-not on the trendy shops and eateries end, but on the old end, well removed from the last stop on the high-priced curio and ornate hat trail.
Granny wasn’t home. You’d think finding an aged spook doctor during the day would be simple, but most of the times I’ve knocked at Granny’s door I’ve knocked in vain. I gave up after a time and settled in the shade of her porch and watched her ne’er-do-well neighbors sneak by. Crows cawed and pecked and hopped in the cemetery next door. I didn’t care to know what it was that they worried. Sometimes the gravediggers don’t bother to go the full six feet.
My meeting with Lethway would commence in a few hours. I listened to the crows and planned my wardrobe. I’d don my new tan britches, my good white shirt and the shiny black shoes Darla got me for Armistice Day.
I would have to leave Toadsticker in the carriage. Swords simply aren’t worn in places like the Banner. I could probably get away with a dagger in my boot and brass knuckles in my pocket, but that would be the extent of my weaponry. Of course the whole point of surprising Lethway at the Banner with his mistress was to avoid a fight, but when tempers flare there’s no predicting how events might unfold.
I wondered if Pratt would stay away, and decided he probably wouldn’t. He might keep out of sight, but I was betting he’d be nearby. Since seeing Fields use his magic secret door and returning with the head of the walking stick that had killed Tamar’s would-be kidnapper, I’d realized Pratt was playing his own games. I hoped I wasn’t being used as a stepping-stone to further his own agenda.
A pair of street kids hopped up on Granny’s porch and gave me a pair of underfed hard looks.
“Whatcha doin’, mister?” asked one.
“Got any money?” inquired the other.
Combined, they weighed maybe fifty pounds, with ten of that being dirt, but they took another couple of steps forward. The dirtiest one slipped a hand in a pocket.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said. “Beat it.”
“He asked you a question, mister.”
“I said do you have any money?”
I cussed and stood up and whipped Toadsticker out. They were off the porch and well into the street before my knees stopped popping.
Granny Knot herself startled me by cackling.
“I seen you, Bobby Doris,” she shrieked. “I knows where your granny walks.”
The urchins doubled their speed. Granny cackled again, shifted her paper-wrapped parcel in her hand, and fumbled for her keys.
“Wonderful to see you, Mr. Markhat,” she whispered with a wink. “I trust you are well?”
I grinned and nodded and put out my hands. Helping old ladies with bags is just another of my many sterling qualities.
“Don’t you be steppin’ on them bees,” she shouted for the benefit of a couple walking past. “I got ham in all my hats. Ham and windows, so the ghosts can see out.”
We stepped inside, and she slammed the door behind her.
“Ham? Hats with windows?”
Granny shrugged. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to babble inanities all day long, Mr. Markhat? I was rather proud of that one. It was both original and intriguing.”
She walked into her cramped kitchen as she spoke, so I followed.
“You’ve come for word from Mama, I presume.”
“I have. Is there any?”
She shoved a bag of salt into a cupboard and nodded. “On the counter. I’ll brew up some coffee, if you like.”
“Thanks.” I spotted the tiny cylinder of tightly wrapped paper on the counter and pulled up a wobbly chair and read.
Boy, it began. I done poked a stick in a hornet’s nest, like I had a mind to, and you ain’t never seen the likes of the buzzin’ and the flyin’ about.
This here hex-master ain’t a local boy. I hears he showed up last year and took to lurking around the inns and the taverns, braggin’ about his hex-craft and showin’ off with lights and haints and so on. Damn fools hereabouts ate it up. ’Fore long, he was doin’ regular work, and askin’ dear for it too.
Well, I done put a stop to all that. I told it that he ate up souls and children besides, and when they said about the fever last Yule that took all them babies I said well there you go. The word of a Hog still has some weight hereabouts, I reckon, ‘cause before midnight I had a dozen callers to my door, all itchin’ to tell what they knowed about this here hex-caster.
He come from Prince, jest like I suspicioned. Still wears them Army doggers what you used to favor. He hides whenever wagon trains and stagecoaches stop in town, so I reckon he ain’t keen on meeting up with nobody from Rannit nor Prince neither, make of that what ye will.
He’s done told it around that he’s comin’ after me. I reckon he’s got to now, or hightail it somewhere else, cause I done put the word out on him. I’ll be waitin’, boy, and he’s gonna regret ever hearin’ the Hog name spoke before I’m done.
And there it ended. I bit back a curse. Mama had been long on drama but short on minor details such as names or descriptions or dates.
Granny pulled up a chair across from me and shoved a plate of sugar cookies my way.
“I take it Mama was less than informative?”
I sought out a cookie. Badmouthing Mama to her best friend didn’t seem like the ideal way to pass the time.
Granny chuckled. “She does enjoy the odd bit of obfuscation. But I daresay she will tell all, when the matter is settled.”
“She may be going up against a former army sorcerer,” I said. “I hope the matter winds up settled in Mama’s favor.”
“You will find Mama equal to her task. The coffee is ready. You take yours black, I believe?”
All the sugar in the world wasn’t going to take the bitter out of Granny’s brew, which resembled tar in both flavor and consistency.
“I do. These are good cookies.”
She smiled and poured. I thought about Mama facing down one of the horrors we troops used to avoid even though they were on our side and a literal shiver ran down my spine.
“Samuel, leave the gentleman alone, this instant.”
Granny glared at the empty air above me until I felt the faintest of breezes and the icy fingers running down my spine departed.
I stood.
“Oh, sit back down. That was only Samuel, out for a bit of mischief.”
I sat, but only with difficulty. Sometimes I forget what Granny does for a living.
“Now then.” Granny put a cup in front of me. It steamed and smelled of chicory. “Mama tells me you’ll be getting married soon.”
I nearly choked. “Mama tells a lot of things she ought not to.”
Granny’s bright little eyes sparkled. “She says she saw your wedding, with her Sight. Claimed there were fireworks in the sky, a band was playing and a priest was saying the words.”
“Fireworks.” I shrugged. “We haven’t had fireworks since before the War. Can’t even get them now. Hang burned to the ground, twenty years ago.”
“Nevertheless. That is what Mama described. And soon, she believed. Did you know she can tell how far in the past or the future her visions extend?”
I snorted and hid it behind my raised cup. Mama and her visions. She sure as Hell hadn’t seen a bunch of pig farmers trooping toward Rannit, knives drawn and my name on their lips.
And she hadn’t seen any visions of what army sorcerers did during the War, or she wouldn’t be so eager to yank the hex-caster’s nose.
Granny raised her cup. “Well, I suppose we’ll see,” she said after a while. “And please don’t worry about Mama. She’s far more formidable on her home soil than she is here, and even here she’s faced down vampires and emerged victorious.”
“Can’t argue with that.” I drained the cup and rose. “Thanks, Granny. I’ll check back tomorrow, see if another letter has arrived.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll send a boy if one comes. Samuel tells me you have an active few days ahead of you.”
“Does Samuel have any sage advice concerning these active days ahead?”
Granny cocked her head and was quiet for a moment.
“He says, and I quote, ‘Tell that there fool he’s ta be mindful of archers if’n he wants to stay above the ground.’ I’m afraid Samuel is a bit of a rustic.”
“Thank him for me.” It never hurts to be polite, even to thin air that was probably as empty as the Regent’s heart. “Take care, Granny.”
“You do the same, Mr. Markhat. Remember what Samuel said.”
“Always.”
And then I was out on Granny’s porch, blinking in the sun. The pair of toughs I’d scattered saw me, threw a pair of poorly aimed rocks my way, and vanished. A shimmering in the air that flew past my face suggested Samuel decided to seek them out and teach them a lesson about throwing rocks at Granny’s porch.
I had to walk all the way back to the genteel end of Elfways to hail a cab.
Darla added a cushion to my chair. I refused to ponder the implications of that as I waited for business to slow down.
I didn’t need to wait long. The snatches of conversations I managed to catch were mainly concerned with cancellations of various orders. Everyone gave variations on the same whispered reason-we’re taking a holiday, they claimed. A holiday out of Rannit.
Darla and Mary and even Martha took it with smiles and knowing nods. “Aye, they’ll all be back,” I heard Mary say in a brief lull. “Don’t ye be despairin’, you hear?”
More nods, more smiles. I don’t know Mary well, but I know my Darla, and her smile was forced and her nod was just a motion.
“Well, well,” said Darla when the last of the customers shuffled out the door. She perched in my lap, sending Mary into a fit of giggling and blushing. “A man, in a dress shop. What can we interest you in today, handsome stranger?”
“Something in a taffeta evening gown. But no lace. I’m barely twenty, you know.”
She laughed and kissed me. Mary fled for the back.
I kissed her back, since there were no longer any innocents about who might be permanently scarred by our scandalous lack of decorum.
“Tamar hidden safely away?” Darla asked somewhat later.
“She is indeed. Along with our son. Did I mention we had a son? His name is Richard. Or possibly Reginald. He needs a bath. Maybe two.”
“My, you certainly know how to get the most out of a morning, don’t you?”
I didn’t have a comeback, so I settled for another kiss. That always seems to work.
The door opened, all bells and chimes, and Darla leaped to her feet, smoothing her long skirt and pinching my ear as she moved away.
We didn’t get much time, later. I had barely enough to let her know what I had planned, and where, and with whom. I didn’t even realize I was doing that until after it was done.
She nodded and only asked me once to be careful.
I hated to leave. But I had a number of stops to make, and any one of them could turn into a long one, and Lethway’s time at the Banner wasn’t negotiable.
So I told Darla goodbye while yet another finely dressed lady canceled yet another order with yet another tale of a sudden trip out of town. We couldn’t kiss. We couldn’t hug each other.
I guess that’s something we’ll have to get used to.
My next stop was Avalante. I hoped to either speak to Evis through that sparking contraption we’d used before, or at least get an update on the Regency’s position. I was also going to need another all-night loan of a carriage. I was hoping they’d offer so I didn’t have to beg.
Jerle, the day man, was at his post. He greeted me with his usual beaming expression of utter and complete indifference. Yes, sir, you are expected, I was told. Yes, sir, I believe a message awaits you. If sir will follow me…
I followed. I expected to be led to the room, which housed the long-distance speaking device, but we just kept going down, and down, and down. Six stories down, and Jerle never broke a sweat.
I did. I don’t mind spending time in Evis’s office, which itself is some thirty feet, I believe, beneath the ground. I have long known that Avalante is more cavern than house-but I’d prefer to keep the details of what lies beneath comfortably in the realm of speculation.
Down we went, following a dizzying spiral of steps that passed firmly shut doors. The air grew noticeably cooler, though it never smelled dank. A couple of times, I felt a strong draft when we passed by ornate iron grilles set in the walls.
At last, we stopped at a door. Jerle opened it and beckoned me through.
As I crossed the threshold, a burst of noise struck me, grew, and kept going. I felt the telltale traces of a hex slide off my shoulders as we left a fancy be-quiet spell behind.
I won’t call it a room, because it was just too big. A chamber. That fits. It was so large I couldn’t see the ends of it. Massive stone columns rose up in regular rows all around me and faded off into the distance in every direction. Magelamps hung from the high smooth ceiling, casting odd shadows and making the movement around me a confusing, jarring hubbub that might have been anything from a riot to a dance.
Jerle let me take it in for a moment. Halfdead and human hurried past us without pause or note.
“Jerle, what is this place?”
“The sixth level, sir. This way.”
And he was off, moving easily through the maze of columns and bodies. I trotted along behind him, lest I be left there and forgotten.
There were no walls. There were, in places, long ranks of benches and tables, filled with odd devices about which vampires and day folk gathered. Some of them talked. Some poked at things with tools I couldn’t name. Some scribbled on paper, some smoked those fancy new smokesticks and some just stared off into space, oblivious to the din around them.
Devices flashed and spat tiny thunders and smoked and glittered. The smell of things burning was strong. One blaze broke out as we passed, but was quickly extinguished by a bevy of red-clad day folk who fought down the flames with buckets and blankets before it could spread.
“Almost there, sir.”
I was too busy huffing and puffing to reply.
Finally, Jerle came to a stop and exchanged a few whispers with a tall halfdead who regarded me over Jerle’s head with barely contained annoyance.
“So you’re the man who ruined the upstairs machine,” he said when the whispering was all done.
“I never touched the thing. I’m a pigeon man.”
He whirled and set about twisting this and pushing that on a twin to the machine I’d last seen six floors above.
Jerle moved to stand by my side. “Be seated,” he said, motioning me toward a table and a single chair. A curiously shaped brass funnel sat atop this table too.
I sat, leaned forward, waited for Evis’s voice to sound from within the thing.
For a moment, there was silence. And then a burst of noise, and then, just for an instant, the sound of something like music, if the musicians were Trolls and afflicted with serious throat infections.
The tall halfdead scowled anew at me and gave a brass wheel a savage twist.
The music vanished.
“…hit the bloody thing again,” said Evis.
“You’ll break it if you do and they’ll blame me,” I said. “Where are you? How are the ladies? Can I book a stateroom for the next pleasure cruise?”
A burst of noise drowned his next few words. “…are fine. Buttercup caught a fish. Miss Gertriss sends her regards. We are well ahead of schedule. Engines performing beyond expectations. Weather is holding. Any more visitors from the old country?”
“None. Mama is fine. Lot of people leaving the city, though. You may come home to find it empty.”
“Just so it’s in one piece. Have you spoken with our boss yet?”
“Haven’t had the pleasure. Will mention that you asked. Any sign of our friends from the north?”
“We started seeing their trash in the water yesterday. Stupid on their part. We now know they’re eating potatoes grown on Butler Farms and drinking Yotton beer from cheap pine kegs.”
“Hurrah. The war is won.” I wished for some privacy but wasn’t going to get it. “Is Gertriss there with you?”
“No. She’s taking a nap with Buttercup. Something wrong?”
“Mama’s taking some pretty big risks with the hex-caster. He's ex-army. From Prince. We all know Mama has a bad temper, but this isn’t some backwoods hex doctor we’re talking about.”
“She’s a tough old bird, Markhat. But if she loses this round, well, you and I will take a little trip that way once this is all over.”
“Hope it doesn’t come to that. When do you think you’ll hit the bluffs?”
“A good day early. Morning too. Plenty of time to make preparations. Did you know ogres get seasick?”
I never got a chance to answer. First came a deafening blast of that atonal music and a shower of sparks, and then a dozen red-shirts with their buckets of sand.
The copper funnel fell silent. The scowling halfdead shot me a look of pure hatred and called for help, and within moments the tall machine was surrounded by frowning workers who pointed and shook their heads and did a full week’s worth of heavy sighing in the time it took Jerle to arrive at my side and gently touch my elbow.
“I believe we should be going, sir,” he said.
We went. I pretended not to hear the unflattering commentary offered by the halfdead lamenting the fate of his machine.
Once we were three flights up, I relaxed a bit, but only a bit. Evis hadn’t shared anything worth ruining a long-talking dingus, and I didn’t think I’d revealed anything of worth to him. So why trot me down into the midst of Avalante’s secret machine works?
“I imagine sir will be wanting a carriage for the evening,” said Jerle. He opened a door. We were back up to ground level, and I’d not noticed.
“Now that you mention it, I would. With a driver who knows his way around a knocking stick, if you please.”
“I believe all our drivers are well versed in that particular art, sir. If you will wait here.”
I found a comfy chair and sat. Halfdead hurried past, all business, in greater numbers than I was accustomed to seeing. I wondered if they were preparing for the worst and decided they probably were.
I hadn’t even picked up an extra bucket of jerky for Three-leg. Or asked Evis about a room for Darla, should the cannons from Prince reach Rannit bombard our walls. Not that I was sure she would agree to take refuge with the halfdead.
“The carriage is ready, sir,” intoned Jerle. He pointed gently toward the door. “If you will show yourself out?”
“I will. And thanks.”
He nodded and was gone, a whispering halfdead on either side.
I showed myself out, as instructed. For the first time, there was no one at Avalante’s door to fetch my hat, so I fetched it myself and closed the tall thick doors carefully behind me.