Текст книги "Brown River Queen"
Автор книги: Frank Tuttle
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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 14 страниц)
“My brilliant plot is undone,” I said. “Woe is me.”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
Being the obliging sort, I obliged. I may have obliged four or five times before we both heard Mama’s raucous laughter rise up into the night.
“Mama’s made a friend,” murmured Darla.
“Too bad it wasn’t Evis.” I shifted a bit, because something nautical was pressing uncomfortably into the small of my back, and that’s when I saw a familiar small, blonde banshee peek around a stack of crates at the far end of the Queen’sprivate wharf.
Darla followed my gaze. We waited a moment, and there she was again, glowing faintly this time.
“Dammit.”
“It’s no good locking her in,” said Darla. “And with all of us here…”
“We’d better find Mama. Angels know what might happen if Buttercup tries to board.”
Darla pulled away and we made for the sound of Mama’s laughter at a trot.
We hadn’t gotten halfway when Buttercup simply appeared, right in front of us.
She hugged my legs and squealed. Darla caught her up and held her close.
We waited.
Lightning did not flare. Walls of flame failed to rise roaring up around us. No horns blew. No black-clad Avalante soldiers surrounded us with guns.
Buttercup giggled and squirmed.
“So much for the Queenbeing impregnable,” I muttered.
“I’ll keep her here. Surely Mama can get her home.”
“She’d better.” I pretended to steal Buttercup’s nose, and she played along, grabbing and laughing.
“Back in a flash,” I said, and I was off.
I made for the sound of Mama’s voice at a run. Buttercup had just breached the best defenses Avalante could muster without any apparent effort. While Evis was practically an uncle to the banshee, his bosses might not prove so charitable, if they ever learned of her abilities.
Mama and Stitches were leaning against the rail, looking out at the sluggish waters of the Brown. Mama’s cigar glowed red in the dark. Stitches had pulled back her hood, so the cool night air blew over her ruined face.
“You should have brung a cigar, boy,” said Mama. “‘Cause I ain’t sharing this here one.”
“She behaving herself?”
We have had a delightful chat. Missus Hog is privy to a practice I thought long dead.
“I’m privy to lots of things.” Mama sucked at the cigar and blew a perfect smoke ring, better than any Evis ever made. “Folks would do well to remember that.”
Indeed.Stitches pulled her hood up before she turned to face me. Good evening, Missus Hog, Mr. Markhat. I have work to do.
“Good evenin’ to you too,” said Mama, between puffs. Stitches glided away, more ghost than girl.
“She musta been a good looker before she done all that sewin’ on her face,” said Mama.
I made frantic shushing noises. Stitches wasn’t twenty feet away.
Mama guffawed. “Oh, settle down. She ain’t likely to swat at me for speakin’ the truth. That niece of mine send you out here?”
I leaned on the rail myself. “Gertriss and Evis left right after you did. Probably looking for someplace with a nice thick door. But that’s not why I’m here. Buttercup just joined us.”
“Damn. I thought I had her put down for a nap.”
“Well, she woke up and strolled all the way across town before skipping right through Angels know how many wards and spells hung around the Queen.I’d rather keep that bit a secret, Mama. We don’t want Avalante deciding they need to do any research on banshees and their sneaky little feet, do we?”
“I don’t reckon even a Dark House could keep that there banshee anywhere she don’t want to be kept. But I sees your point. I’ll take her on home.”
“Thanks.”
Mama grinned suddenly, her bright little eyes dancing in the moonlight.
“Boy, did you see how Evis and my niece were a squirmin, and a sweatin’ all through supper?”
“Mama, look-”
She held up her hand and took a long draw from the cigar. “Don’t you ‘Mama look’ me, boy. You think I don’t know where that niece of mine stays all hours? You think I don’t know who’s she’s keepin’ company with, and why?”
“This isn’t the time, Mama.”
“Ain’t ever gonna be a good time, boy. You know I don’t approve.”
“You don’t? What a surprise.”
“And you think since I don’t approve I’d give them all manner of perdition, is that it?”
Darla peeked around the corner. Buttercup saw me and waved.
“Well, maybe you don’t know old Mama as well as ye think you do. ‘Cause I don’t plan on raising no fuss over matters that ain’t none of my business in the first place. So you can tell that niece of mine she can stop sneakin’ around. She’s family, boy. Only family I got. I ain’t ready to lose that over her choice of beau.”
I motioned for Darla to join us.
“That’s very open minded of you, Mama.”
“Ain’t got much choice, do I?”
Buttercup saw Mama and leaped from Darla’s arms, racing toward Mama without bothering to put her dainty banshee feet anywhere near the Queen’sfresh-scrubbed deck.
“What are you doin’ out of bed, you barefoot devil?” croaked Mama without malice. “What are we going to do with you, child?”
Buttercup kissed Mama on her cheek and started running in circles around her.
“Thank you for the meal,” said Mama. She took a final puff from her cigar before throwing the remnants out into the river. “We’d best be getting home.”
She took Buttercup by the hand, and off they went.
Darla and I watched them go.
“Did Mama mention Gertriss and Evis?”
I nodded. “She did. Claimed she wasn’t planning on causing any trouble. Said it was none of her business.”
Darla raised an eyebrow.
“Think she’s telling the truth?”
“Not a chance.”
“I hope you’re wrong. They’ve got enough to worry about without Mama causing trouble.”
“I hope I’m wrong too. That’s bound to happen someday, you know.”
“What is?”
“Me being wrong.”
She kissed me, right there on the riverfront, where passing barge-hands could have seen-had it been daylight, and had any barges been passing.
I risked public scandal by kissing her right back.
It must have been the moonlight.
Chapter Nine
Life aboard a boat takes on its own unique cadence.
Mornings, for instance. Bells rouse the crew from slumber. The crew, once roused, proceed to swarm the decks performing various nautical tasks, all of which involve swearing, banging, stomping, and more swearing, usually followed by a spirited round of beating on one heavy iron thing with another.
Darla and I took to burying our heads beneath our pillows, which more or less worked until the engine crew began the day’s piston test. That shook the Queenfrom bow to stern and, on two occasions, filled the hallways with thick clouds of smoke.
We never moved, and the Queen’smassive red paddle wheel never turned. Evis remained confident, waving off my concerns with a grin and a shrug. “It’s a new boat, Markhat,” he said. “Plenty of time to get her ready.”
By my count, the Queenwas set to take aboard her well-heeled passengers and steam for Bel Loit in eight short days. Given that the Queenwas still full of ladders and workmen and a betting pool had emerged on the question of whether the big red paddle wheel would turn or strip her gears, I decided Evis’s nonchalance was forced, if not outright fabricated.
But, as Darla pointed out, that wasn’t my concern.
I made it my concern to memorize the Queen’slayout and get to know as many of her crew as I could. So I did what some say is what I do best and made a nuisance of myself.
I wandered the Queen’sgangways, drink in hand, and accosted anyone foolish enough to stand still. Then I asked whatever questions came to mind-how much coal were we storing, how many Ogres work below decks, where can I get another glass of beer, and so on.
I wasn’t so much interested in their answers as I was the way in which they answered.
Only the Queen’sgood captain, a grey-bearded gent named Samuels, with piercing blue eyes and a soft voice, invited me to get the hell out of his way so he could get to work, and I could damned well find my own way to the nearest beer-barrel.
The rest ran the gamut from obsequious toad to surly coal-shovel man. None broke down and confessed to any dastardly plots under the sheer intensity of my steely glare, and I lamented this sad fact to Darla on the evening of our fourth day aboard the Queen.
She put down her book and smiled at me over the tops of her reading glasses.
“Perhaps, dear, you aren’t drinking enough beer.”
I sat down on the bed beside her.
“The beer is just for show. People are more likely to talk if they think the man they’re talking to is a bit tipsy.”
Her expression didn’t change.
“I met the Captain today. We had quite a nice chat. Seems to be a competent sailor, and more importantly, he has a well-trimmed white beard.”
“I heard he nearly had you clapped in irons.”
I imitated Evis and his dismissive wave. “That’s just how us old sea-dogs talk. I’m very nearly first mate. Maybe even boatswain.”
“What exactly is a boatswain, dear?”
“And just how did you hear anything, new bride of mine? I thought you were going to spend the day reading.”
“I have my secrets.”
“So how is Gertriss, since Mama’s little visit?”
“Troubled. Evis?”
“Evis is Evis. Not a care in the world. Should he be worried?”
She took off her glasses and laid them on her book. “We should all be worried, I imagine. Any news from your friend Miss Stitches and our woman problem?”
“None yet.” I laid down and stretched. Bones popped. “Did you bring that fancy pocket-watch Evis gave you as a wedding present?”
“I did.”
“Good. I want us to take a stroll or two later on. From one end of the Queento the other, from deck to deck, all around.”
“Why, pray tell?”
“Where did all those soldiers come from when Mama showed up?”
“I’ve wondered that too. But it was dark and they’re halfdead. They could have been standing in the shadows all along.”
“I thought that too, at first.”
“But not now.”
“Not now. Avalante isn’t going to station armed halfdead in every corner once the casino is open. No, they had to have another way of moving from place to place.”
“Why not just ask Evis?”
“I will. But only after I know the answer.”
“And men claim women are needlessly indirect.”
“I’m thinking like a villain. A villain wouldn’t ask Evis. They’d observe, find a weakness to exploit.”
Darla grinned and rested her head on my chest. “So you’re a villain, aboard the Queenunder false pretense. How would you go about causing trouble?”
“Fire. I’d just set a few fires, and hope to stab someone important in all the confusion.” Even alone in our room, neither of us cared to mention the Regent by name.
“That sounds dreadful. But effective, I suppose.”
“Not at all. The Queenis equipped with pumps and pipes-if a fire starts, she gets doused with river-water. People get wet, meals are ruined, but no one burns.”
“Let me try, then.” She thought for a moment. “Poison. I’d get into the kitchen somehow and poison a dish.”
“Some people will bring their own tasters and wand-wavers.”
“Quite a few won’t. And if half the dining room fell over dead, well, that would be trouble for Avalante, wouldn’t it?”
I stroked her hair and nodded. “Good point. Remind me to prepare my own supper from now on.”
“Hah. So what were you thinking, if not fire or poison?”
“I’d have a brace of cannon waiting just north of Bel Loit. Open fire and hope for the best.”
“I hope Evis has thought of that.”
“He has. Claims the Queenhas anti-cannon spells, and that they’ve got patrols out on both sides of the Brown.”
“You don’t seem reassured.”
“Haven’t seen a wand-waver yet who could stop a volley of cannon fire.”
She was silent for a moment. I nearly drifted off but Darla shook me awake.
“Let’s go for that stroll you promised,” she said. “I’ll get the pocket-watch. You should shave or they might mistake you for an Ogre and ask you to shovel coal.”
I stroked my chin. “I’m more likely to make Captain if I grow a beard.”
Darla rose. “Well, until you do, you’re still my husband the finder, and I’m bored, so let’s go find something.” She predicted my thoughts. “Something that isn’t beer.”
I sat up and yawned. “Yes, dear.”
She darted into our bathroom and threw a towel out at me. “There you are, Captain.”
I rose and found my razor.
A leisurely stroll from the Queen’sblunt bow to her shiny red wheel took all of four minutes on the wide outdoor deck that surrounds the casino’s stained glass windows. The same walk through the second deck’s cherry-paneled halls took three and half.
I made it in two at a run. Add a flight of stairs and a pair of inquisitive Avalante foot soldiers, and it’s a hair over two and a quarter minutes.
Going from the casino to the Regent’s well-guarded rooms takes three minutes if you’re not in a hurry. The looks we got from the wand-wavers stationed there suggested people who arrived in a hurry might meet with the kind of reception that leaves ugly stains on the floor.
Darla spoke. “So what did all that prove?”
We leaned on the rail and watched the sluggish Brown River flow.
“Double those times, if the boat is full. Triple them if there’s a panic and a rush.” I took off my hat and let the breeze dry my sweaty forehead. “That’s the weak spot I was looking for. The stairs are bottlenecks. Catch a certain someone in his room. Raise a ruckus somehow. You’ve got a good five minutes before Avalante can shove halfdead soldiers in your face. That’s a lot of time for mischief, my dear. A lot of time.”
Darla nodded and put her hand on mine. “Surely they’ve thought of that?”
“They did. And they came up with a solution. I’m just not sure it’s good enough.”
“We saw a dozen armed vampires appear out of nowhere the instant an alarm was raised.”
I put my hat back on. “That we did. But the place was empty. And if my guess is correct, they probably can’t keep more than half a dozen halfdead anywhere near our special guest’s room.”
“There are hiding places in the walls?”
“Have to be. All that fancy wood trim? All those burnished cherry panels? I can’t think of a better way to hide a sneaky door.”
Darla reddened. “If I find a single peep-hole into our room I’m going to stuff Evis into one of his boilers.”
“I’ll help. Let’s go find a secret door and see where it leads.”
“We’ll need a candle and some matches.”
“And beer. We might get lost and wander for days.”
“That’s why I married a ham-fisted brute, dear. So you can break down doors before I get thirsty.”
I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out a box of matches and a pair of new candles. “Look what I found. What a coincidence.”
Darla laughed, grabbed the end of my tie, and we went in search of the Queen’shidden passages.
Finding the first trick door took all of an hour. Some master craftsman had concealed the doorframe so cleverly I couldn’t see it even after I’d convinced myself it was there.
But there it was, in plain sight. Finding the hidden latch and getting it open took another twenty minutes.
Explaining what we were doing opening a secret door to the wary halfdead gunmen who spilled out of the dark required a mere five minutes, and culminated in an even briefer conversation with a bleary-eyed Evis through his barely-opened door.
“I wondered how long it would take you to find them,” he muttered after a whispered exchange with his fellows. “You might as well come on in. Got word that Stitches hit the brunettes. Waiting for news now.”
The halfdead gunmen left without a backward glance. Evis vanished from his door, leaving it cracked. I heard him shuffling around in his dark room, and then a lamp flared.
“I’m decent,” he called. We opened his door and stepped inside.
Evis’s suite had no windows. Every wall was lined with books and scrolls and charts. A big, plain, oak desk sat in the middle of the room, covered with papers. A green glass magelamp hung above the desk, simulating twilight. There was a short couch and two comfy high-backed padded chairs and what I hoped was an icebox for keeping beer in a corner.
Evis closed the only other door, which I assumed led to the adjoining bedroom. A sliver of light showed at the bottom, and if Darla and I saw a brief shadow pass across it, we both pretended we’d been looking elsewhere.
“Sorry to roust you out at this hour,” I said.
He shrugged and motioned for us to sit. We took the couch. He collapsed in a chair and turned to face us. “So you found the dunways.”
“Dunways? The hidden doors?”
“Technically, the passages behind the doors. But yes. Well done. What tipped you off?” His eyes glinted in the dim light until he reached for his spectacles and put them on.
“Best way to move armed staff around without causing a fuss,” I said.
“Also good for accidentally overhearing private conversations,” said Darla.
“The dunways are strictly for security on this trip,” said Evis.
“How many guns will you have hidden in the walls, Evis?”
“Sixty-two. All highly trained. All absolutely fearless. Feel better?”
“Some.” I pretended not to see that pesky shadow race across the bottom of Evis’s door again. “Might as well have sixty-two men on the moon if they’re not in the right place at the right time.”
Evis looked toward Darla. “He’s cute when he’s grumpy, isn’t he?”
“So, what’s this about Stitches?”
“Don’t know yet. She said she had a scheme to grab the hex women, whatever they’re called.”
“The bentans?”
“Yeah. Them. I got word she took a couple of wagons and a dozen staff before sunup this morning, and now I hear she’s back at Avalante with a wagonload of bodies.”
A soft knock sounded at the door. “Enter,” shouted Evis.
Stitches herself stepped through the door.
Her robe stank of wood smoke. Her sleeves were scorched and torn. When she pulled back her hood to reveal her face, it was black with soot.
Her bleeding lips, though, were trying to form a smile.
Good. You are here. Mrs. Markhat.
“You look like hell,” said Evis. “Sit, if you want.”
I believe I shall. The day has been taxing.She crossed to the vacant chair and settled gingerly into it, as though favoring numerous injuries. I got them. All of them.
“The bentans?”
Yes. I know who made them, Mr. Prestley. I know who, and I believe I know why.
“Spill it.”
I shall. But first-
She raised her hands and traced out a complicated pattern in the air. There was a sound, and for an instant her fingertips left visible trails of light.
She clapped her hands and the luminous pattern faded away.
Precautions. The living simulacrums were animated by the hand of Hag Mary herself. I trust you are acquainted with the name, Mr. Prestley?
I didn’t like the way Evis went suddenly stiff and still.
“That’s just a legend.”
I fear it is not. Hag Mary lived, and lives still, and something has stirred her to send these bentans against Mr. Markhat.
“I hate to interrupt, but what the hell is a Hag Mary, and what have I ever done to her?”
Evis turned his dark spectacles toward me. “Hag Mary. One of the worst of the old-time sorcerers. This is pre-Kingdom stuff, Markhat. Prehistoric. Hag Mary was said to be a fallen Angel, gone mad with being cast down with us mortals.”
Nonsense.Stitches finally relaxed enough to settle back into her chair. Fallen Angels?
“You don’t believe in Angels?”
As I said, nonsense. But whatever her origin, Hag Mary was indeed, for a time, a powerful, formidable sorceress. Her obsession with the Old Ones was her undoing, though, and she spiraled down into madness– both figuratively and literally.
“How so?”
She began to excavate a series of prehistoric ruins that lay below Rannit. Deeper and deeper she dug, until she just vanished from sight. Eventually, from memory.
“You’re sure it’s her that raised the bentans?”
Her house is long ago fallen, but a number of her personal possessions remained behind. I acquired a minor item myself, some years ago. It retains an arcane signature, one that is an exact match to the one that animates the bentans. There is no mistake. Hag Mary raised those creatures, and Hag Mary set them upon you.
Darla took my hand. “Why? Why would this…creature do such a thing?”
I suspect Hag Mary is merely being used. If she was quite insane a millennia ago, she is a gibbering lunatic now-one without the measure of reason required to plot against your husband, Mrs. Markhat, or anyone else. No. Her powers are still formidable, but I doubt they are her own. Someone, or a group of persons, is fearful that Markhat still holds the huldra. Without the Corpsemaster to subdue Markhat, or for that matter to shield him, they have decided to take it, using the most powerful tool they have. Hag Mary.
“If I had the damned thing, I’d have used it by now. Can’t they see that?”
Their brand of rationality is hardly compatible with your own, Mr. Markhat. You pose a threat. They seek to eliminate that threat. Most curious, though, is the timing.
“Our little dinner cruise.” Evis cussed. “You think this is all connected to the presence of our special guest.”
The Corpsemaster, right hand of the Regency, is fallen. Creatures more ancient than history are stirring. It bears consideration, Mr. Prestley. Careful consideration.
“We should call it off.” Evis’s words were barely more than a whisper. “Claim engine trouble. Claim anything.”
“We can’t live here forever,” said Darla. Her grip on my hand was painful. “There has to be a way to prove he wrecked that awful thing!”
I fear the only way to satiate them is to produce a huldra. Produce it, and give it to them.
“I don’t suppose we can just have Mama whip up a batch, can we?” I asked.
I would be surprised if three more remain in all the world. And crafting even a dubious facsimile of such a thing is well beyond my skill, and indeed, beyond the skill of anyone alive. No. You shall have to find another huldra, Markhat. It is the only way.
Evis appeared to conclude an intense internal debate.
“We can’t go on with this, knowing that the Regent is probably the target of a coup.” He rose. “I’ve got to speak to the House elders. Stitches, Markhats, make yourselves at home. We’ll talk later.”
And then he vanished into his back room. The light beneath the door went out.
Stitches pulled her hood down so that it hid her ruined eyes.
The day’s exertions have been significant. I trust you will forgive my urgent need for rest.
With that she went limp and still.
“We’ll just have to find another huldra,” said Darla, Her voice was cheerful and light, but she forgot to ease her grip on my hand. “Evis will help.”
I rose. Evis’s icebox beckoned.
“Bring me one too,” said Darla. She forced a smile. “We might as well make ourselves at home.”
I found a dozen unlabeled bottles of some honey-colored beer, wiped the sawdust off two, and opened them both before offering one to Darla and then holding up mine for a toast.
“To life aboard the Brown River Queen,” quoth I. “Where the beds are always soft and the beer is always free.”
Darla shrugged and joined me in the toast.
