Текст книги "Brown River Queen"
Автор книги: Frank Tuttle
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Chapter Ten
My mother was a strong critic of idle hands. And so, despite Evis’s vow to postpone the Queen’smaiden voyage until sometime after the Last Trump, I set about earning my exorbitant pay.
I grabbed crew at random and hustled them into a tiny room behind the purser’s sparse office. There was barely room enough for two straight-backed wooden chairs and a tiny stand for my notebook. I grilled my hapless victims on their employment history, their political leanings, and their overall nefarious countenances.
I raised some hackles and came close to going to bed with a broken nose, but again I found nothing but a couple of closet whisky-fanciers and a steward who’d spent a few nights in the Old Ruth for breaking a couple of windows during the mob riots last spring.
I had to give Evis and his staff their due. They’d taken great pains to hire people who were either fiercely loyal to Avalante, deeply terrified of Avalante, or both. There’d be no slipping a handful of coppers among them to buy a few moments of looking the other way. No, the purchase of even the slightest act of disloyalty was going to cost someone a fortune.
Normally, I’d have been encouraged by this. But the kind of people likely to be handing out the coins in this instance simply wouldn’t care.
I consoled myself with my near certainty that the Queenwould not soon be departing for Bel Loit or anywhere else, at least not with the Regent aboard. The man didn’t assume sudden and complete control over Rannit by being an imbecile.
So I walked the decks and tried in vain to pry open a trace of treachery and sat my butt down to some of the finest meals I’ve ever enjoyed. Darla read and started scribbling furiously in a notebook that had a dainty little clasp and a clever little lock. I tried to catch sight of her writings over her shoulder a time or two, but she always heard me coming and slammed the notebook shut before I caught a glimpse.
“That’s my little secret,” was all she would say.
The next day, and the next, passed in that manner. We saw neither Evis nor Gertriss, which only confirmed Darla’s assertion that they had set up housekeeping together.
It was the day after that, right before dusk, that a shrill new whistle blew three times, just as Dutson was setting our table near the stage.
Waiters and busboys and cooks and carpenters all began to rush past, hurrying toward the doors and the open deck beyond it. None looked alarmed. Even Dutson sported a sudden smile.
“That signals the final piston and boiler test,” he said in reply to the question I hadn’t had time to ask. “Might I suggest we delay our repast for a short time? The Queenwill be taking to the river under her own power if all goes well.”
Darla and I rose as one. The Queenbegan to hum and shake beneath our feet. The sounds of metal groaning and ironwood beams popping filled the silent casino.
“This I want to see,” said Darla. I was glad to watch a genuine smile cross her face.
I moved toward the door, Dutson at my side.
“So how much do you stand to gain, and which way did you bet?”
He didn’t bother with a blustered denial.
“Ten crowns,” he said. “And she’ll be setting forth, mark my words, sir. These men know their business, even if no one else does. Her wheel will turn.”
We pushed our way onto the crowded deck. I made room for Darla and cleared us a spot right by the rail.
The starboard side of the Queen’sbright red paddle wheel was just barely visible from where we stood. The wharf and the gangway were on the port side, so we looked out on nothing but the wide, sluggish face of the Brown, which flowed serenely past as if nothing of note was taking place.
The horn sounded again, three more times. Dutson grinned and gripped the rail.
“Here we go, sir.”
A throbbing hum, pitched too low to be called a roar and too powerful to be ignored, rose up through the deck. The throbbing intensified, building and falling in a slow, measured rhythm, rapidly transforming from a throatless growl to a thum-thum-thumreminiscent of the beating of some great unhurried heart.
The Queen’sblunt bow was right against the dock. I saw ropes flying, cast off by a horde of scurrying deck hands, and I realized the Queen’sfirst movements would have to be both backwards and against the current.
The deck shuddered. There came the sound of steel against steel, the sudden piercing hiss of steam, and then the thum-thum-thumdoubled in pace and then doubled again. Then, with a clank and a roar, the Queen’snew red wheel began to thrash and turn.
She bit the Brown and took hold, and damned if we didn’t back easily out into the river and make a flawless half-turn, putting the Queen’sface north.
Her boilers burned and her pistons reached and her wheel reversed and we moved against the river, leaving behind a pair of smoke-trails and sparks.
The deck exploded in cheers. I didn’t spot a long face in the crowd, despite the losses in the betting pool I knew many of them just suffered. Fists were raised and hats were waved and a pair of sooty firemen even danced a brief jig right there in the sun.
Dutson, ever the model of polite decorum, observed the celebrations with only the faintest ghost of a grin. “As I said, sir, they know their business.”
The breeze shifted, bringing with it a mist of spray from the Queen’schurning wheel. The sound of it, even near the bow, was that of ten thousand open hands all slapping the water over and over in some bizarre game of Splash the Finder.
“I shall see to your table, sir. Please spend as long as you like above. This is a rare fine sight.”
“It’s history.” Evis spoke, right behind me, and I turned to face him. “Welcome to the Age of Steam, Markhat. Let’s hope we live long enough to enjoy it.”
He was clad in his usual daytime attire-yards and yards of black silk, which lent him the appearance of a storybook haunt, aside from the expensive leather shoes with spats, his hat, and his dark-tinted spectacles. Something in the way he slumped against the rail told me his face would be weary, if any of it were visible.
A pair of uniformed engineers ran up, all smiles. One shook my hand though I’m sure he didn’t remember me and the other chattered to Evis about reach rods and doctor pumps.
Evis raised a gloved hand. “Thank you, Mr. Blevins. Tell the bridge crew I’ll join them in the wheelhouse in a moment.”
“The whistle, sir?”
Evis hadn’t been listening either.
“The Captain wants to know if we can sound her whistles, sir.”
Evis slumped even further. “Certainly,” he said. “Blow it long and blow it loud. Our secret is out. Blow the damned thing until it explodes.”
“Sir?”
“I believe Mr. Prestley said blow the whistle, and good job,” I added. That only confused Blevins further, but his companion was quicker of wit, and he grabbed Blevins’s elbow and off they went, cheering and hooting like schoolboys.
The spray from the Queen’swheel cast infant rainbows all about us, even framing Evis briefly between a pair.
“You’re awfully glum for a man who just revolutionized river travel,” I said. “The elders give you a bad time about postponing the supper cruise?”
“Walk with me. Hello, Darla. Forgive my manners. It’s been a bad day.”
Darla smiled and squeezed his shoulder. “You’re always a gentleman, even when you think you aren’t,” she said, winking at me. “I’ll be right here.”
Evis made a stiff little bow and eased through the crowd, which parted as if by magic before him. I followed with some small difficulty, applying an occasional elbow to work my way through the milling throng until I caught up.
Evis darted inside the casino and headed for the stairs, black silk flowing in his wake. I trotted and matched his pace.
“You can always do this all over again, once the threat has been dealt with.” I panted a bit. “Surely they understood the need to put things off.”
Evis cussed. “The House understood. And agreed. But our special guest insists that we proceed.”
“What?”
“We depart a full two days early, with all aboard. Our concerns were brushed aside. This is happening, Markhat. Despite my objections.”
“Angels and devils.”
“Just so.” Evis halted, listening for a moment I suppose. “This is insanity.”
“I’ve never heard that personcalled insane before.”
“Nevertheless. That is his intent. To proceed despite all evidence that doing so invites attack.”
A graveyard chill worked its way down my spine.
“You think you’re being played.”
“I suspect all this is part of a grander scheme,” he whispered. “A scheme years in the making. Move the conflict out of Rannit. Take it to a time and a place of his choosing. Make the opportunity look so inviting those parties we spoke of earlier cannot resist making a move. Oh yes, Markhat. We’ve been played. And now we have no choice but to see it through.”
The chill settled in for a nice long stay.
I couldn’t leave the Queen. I couldn’t send Darla away. The only safety for us was the Queenand her arcane defenses, and now those defenses were surely going to be tested by creatures so old and so powerful they didn’t even have names.
The Queen’smassive smokestack whistles blew. Loud as Buttercup and just as painful, and they blew and they blew and they blew until I imagined all of Rannit must have heard them, even the ones sleeping their uneasy sleep deep down in the dark houses, where the streets changed with every passing, and the sun and the moon shone only at some strange whim.
“Shut that damned thing up,” yelled Evis, but his voice was lost in the sound. He leaned close to me and shouted “supper” loud enough for me to hear, and then he glided up the stairs toward the source of the Queen’sthroatless, deafening howl.
I rejoined Darla on the deck and shouldered my way to a place at her side. The man I pushed away gave me a look but then he saw my face and he wisely walked away.
The shrieking whistles fell silent.
“Bad news.” She wasn’t asking, but observing.
“It wasn’t good. Lovely day, though. How does it feel to make nautical history, my dear?”
“I’d rather be going home.” She hugged me, brief and tight, and then she was all smiles.
A flotilla of curious fishermen headed our way, waving and shouting. We on the rail waved and shouted back, and the Queen’spistons pumped, and we left every boat behind as Evis turned her south and let her engines sing.
The evening meal was a dour affair. Evis barely spoke. Gertriss laid into the wine with a grim determination I’d never seen in her before. Darla moved her food around but ate very little, which led Dutson to fuss and hover until we were all ready to help him overboard for a brisk, invigorating swim.
Only I managed the sacred task of cleaning my plate, because come wrack or ruin, roast beef cooked to absolute perfection and served on a bed of rice and carrots is not to be ignored.
“I’m glad someone found the dish palatable,” muttered Dutson as he took my empty plate. “Would sir care for dessert? We have a very nice lemon meringue pie this evening.”
“Sounds marvelous,” I said. “You have any cigars back there?” Evis was so distraught he’d forgotten. “Nothing like a good cigar after a fine meal.”
“I’m sure I can procure one,” said Dutson, who briefly glanced at Evis before turning away with an injured look.
“Bring two, if you please.” I leaned back in my chair and waited for Dutson to amble out of earshot. “Some party this is.”
“Sorry, boss.” Gertriss drained her glass. “Hard to be festive after today.”
“You should know that better than anybody,” grumbled Evis.
“He speaks!” I caught Darla’s eye. “See, he wasn’t asleep after all.”
“You’re hilarious.” Evis sighed. “Gertriss, how do you get any work done, what with laughing all the time?”
“She manages. Look. I know this has been a blow, but I’ve got a plan.”
Evis didn’t smile. Neither did Gertriss.
“I can’t wait to hear it,” said Evis.
“We sink the Queen,”I said. “Tonight. Right here, at the dock.”
“Boss.”
“Well, we can’t take to the river if we’re on the bottom, now can we?”
“I think I may have wasted my thousand crowns.”
“Why? Because sinking the Queenis a better idea than any other idea I’ve heard. Hell, it’s the onlyidea I’ve heard, and that, my old friend, is what troubles me most.”
Dutson appeared, a saucer bearing a slice of yellow and white pie in one hand and two cigars in the other.
He set the pie down before me, and I slipped the cigars in my pocket.
“There’s nothing we can do,” said Evis when Dutson headed back to the shadows. “You can’t leave the Queen. I can’t abandon my place in the House. Certain other people”-he didn’t point at Gertriss, but he didn’t need to-“won’t listen to reason. We’re stuck here, all of us, and we’re being led by the nose right into the kind of epic dust-up that leaves people talking about the big holes in the ground a thousand years hence.”
I took a bite of pie. “Best damned pie I ever tasted.”
“One of the last, too.”
I swallowed. “No. I refuse to accept that. We’ve been in some tight spots before. But here we are, not enjoying a truly remarkable meal.”
“We got lucky.”
“Maybe. Who’s to say we won’t get lucky again?” I took another bite. “What’s got into you, Evis? What aren’t you telling me?”
Gertriss gave him a long hard look before speaking. “Spill it.”
He sighed, right through his needle-sharp teeth, making a dry whistling noise. “Something I heard on the Hill. Right from the High House. The Corpsemaster. She’s dead, Markhat.”
“We assumed as much. I’m still not convinced.”
Evis started, as though kicked in his shin.
“Tell him all of it,” whispered Gertriss.
I put my fork down.
“The Regent.” Evis kept his voice low. “He killed the Corpsemaster. Not the bunch from Prince. Angels help us all.”
Darla blanched. I lost my appetite, possibly for the rest of my life.
“Why?”
“She got too powerful. Outlived her usefulness. Lot of that going around.”
“So you think it’s true.”
Evis nodded. “Makes sense. I never believed she bought it up the Brown. Those three from Prince were none of them her equal. Not even close. Hell, Markhat. You know where that leaves us.”
The red lamps hidden by the ornate trim flared to life. Blood-tinged shadows flew. Horns sounded-one long note, half a beat, one short note.
The air went cold. Breaths came out as gouts of steam. The fancy lights flickered and flared, sending shadows dancing about us. Some of the shadows lingered longer than they should have, and some massed at the ceiling, as though trying to come together and take on a monstrous many-limbed form.
The empty casino filled with armed halfdead. Dutson and the wait staff joined them, their hands full of guns or knives, their faces a mix of trepidation or youthful stupid bravado.
Evis rose.
“Dutson. Take Miss Hog and Mrs. Markhat to the dunways.”
“Yes, sir.”
Neither Mrs. Markhat nor Miss Hog made any move to follow. Darla produced her silver gun and aimed a defiant smile at me.
Stitches stepped out of a fold in the dark. The shadows fled, and the winter chill with them.
We are under a sustained arcane attack. Thus far, theQueen’s defenses have held.
“Attack by whom?”
Persons unknown. The method of their offense is archaic. I may be able to better ascertain their origin if I am given permission to engage them.
“Silence the alarm.” Evis cast a furious glance toward Gertriss, who didn’t flinch. The blaring horns fell silent. “Will exposing yourself present additional risk?”
The protection will hold or not. It was designed to allow for simple verbal commerce.
Evis put his gun away. “Permission granted. If the protection begins to fail, what action should I take?”
Pray, for all the good it will do you.Stitches pushed back her hood. You are as safe on the deck as you are within, if you wish to observe. The hull of this vessel will offer no protection if the protective spellworks fail.
She headed for the doors.
I know when to pick my battles, so I just offered Darla my arm. “Let’s take a stroll on the deck,” I said. “I hear there may be fireworks.”
She took my arm but kept her gun handy.
Evis frowned at me before turning to Gertriss. “After you,” he said with a sweeping bow.
Darla, at least, had the good grace not to smirk.
Outside, on the deck, we found chaos.
Gone was the dock and the wharf and the water and sky. The Queenfloated inside a bubble, and beyond that thin membrane all hell had broken loose.
Dark masses, some distant kin to thunderclouds, boiled and railed against the spherical volume that held us just beyond their reach. Monstrous shrieks sounded from within the roiling murk. I heard voices cry out, shouting strange words across an echoing gulf. The words, if indeed they were words, made no sense, but even so my skin crawled and my hair tried to stand at the mere echo of them.
Our bubble rang like a struck bell, and I saw Stitches wince and catch hold of the rail briefly before straightening and throwing back her hood.
By the ancient rite of challenge, I demand your name, you who would trouble me and mine.
Laughter-mad and wild-came leaking through the bubble. A wizened, cat-eyed face as wide as the sky pressed itself briefly upon the membrane as might a child at a candy-store window.
“We are numbered beyond measure,” came a voice amid the thunderous roars. “We are we who shall crack thy bones and feast upon thy marrow.”
Evis nodded toward the barrier. “That keeps magic out,” he said to Stitches. “Will it keep physical objects in?”
What a fascinating query.I got the impression Stitches directed her response to Evis and I alone. I too am curious. Shall we conduct a brief test?
Evis glided away. The boiling in the dark surrounding us intensified, and the bubble rang again.
Stitches raised her hand.
A second time I ask, you whose names are many. Who brings affront to my House, un-named, like a thief in the night?
The bubble rang again. Lights began to play among the darkness, flashing too long to be lightning but sounding of thunder all the same.
“We will have that which the Fallen One gave to her minion,” said the voice. “Give it unto us. Give unto us the mortal man who hath walked with it. Give them to us, and we shall trouble thee no more.”
“Can they hear me, Miss Stitches?”
Darla shot me a warning look.
I shall take measures to ensure that they do. I can offer you no assurance that they will listen, though.
I cleared my throat. Darla put a death-grip on my left arm.
“My name is Markhat,” I shouted. “Not minion. I had your trinket, yes, but I destroyed it. It’s gone, and I couldn’t give it back to you if I wanted to.”
The flashes and boiling continued with no apparent change in intensity or frequency.
“Did you hear me? I can’t give you what I don’t have.” I took a breath. “But I’ll come out if you’ll promise to take me and leave these people alone.”
“Hell you will,” said Darla.
“Well, what about it? Do I get an answer?”
The bubble rang loud enough to momentarily drown out the roar and the thunder. When the ringing echoes died, long vertical scratches began to appear on the surface of the protective bubble, and though they quickly faded, more and more began to appear and race through the membrane.
“I asked you bastards a question!” I shouted.
The bubble rang again, louder than before.
It appears we have our reply.
Stitches turned her sightless eyes toward us.
Brace yourselves.
She took hold of the railing. Darla put her gun away and did the same.
Twice I have asked and twice you have denied me the courtesy of a reply. Mr. Prestley. Are you ready?
“Almost,” shouted Evis from somewhere up above. I heard men up there too, cursing and grunting, as though heaving something heavy into place.
I ask a third and final time. What is your name, or names? Answer, or quit this place and trouble us no more.
The slow lightning grew brighter and closer, illuminating oily, leathery masses writhing in the boiling shadows.
“Thou art not worthy to invoke the rite,” shouted the voice. “Thou art-”
Commence, Mr. Prestley.
Thunder of our own sounded, and lightning of our own design streaked in racing lines from the Queen’stop deck before arcing out through Stitches’s bubble and into the dark void beyond.
Not cannons. Guns-rifles from the sound of them-firing in such rapid succession I failed to count the individual shots. The firing sounded from at least three places on the deck, and the trails of light left by the rounds lit up the not-sky with strange glows and frequent, silent blasts of light radiance.
“Told you there’d be fireworks,” I said. Darla swallowed hard, produced her pistol, and emptied it into the void.
Something out there screamed. Not a scream of madness or insane glee or challenge, but a plain old scream of surprise and pain.
Fascinating.Stitches let go of the rail and hurled a fist-sized ball of light through her barrier. It sailed serenely away, fading as though crossing a vast distance, and then Stitches clapped her hands.
The boiling void exploded. One instant, there was the unsky, and the writhing things that rode the strange winds thereof. Then there was a silent white flash, and then-
– then, the lazy Brown River, and the stink thereof, and a weary-looking moon, and the dock, and the wharf, and an army of black-clad Avalante soldiers, guns at the ready, giving us “What the hell looks?“ in the lamplight.
Evis’s fast-firing guns fell silent. Stitches wobbled a bit.
I believe I am due a raise.
She fell, and neither Darla nor I were quite fast enough catch her.
“If you ever offer to give yourself up like that again, husband of mine, I will shoot you myself.”
“Seems a strange way to dissuade heroic acts of valor.” The ever-observant Dutson put a fresh beer bottle at my right hand, and I hoisted it so as not to give insult. “Although I suppose it would solve one of our immediate problems.”
“Hah. I’d shoot you in the ass. Which is where you must be doing all your thinking today. What were you doing, Markhat? What if they’d said yes?”
I took a good long draught of beer. “Then maybe you’d be safe now. Maybe you could go home and polish that new silverware.”
Darla cussed. Dutson, ever the gentleman, pretended not to hear.
Evis was sunk so low in his chair he was nearly invisible. Gertriss was nowhere to be seen. I gather their after-crisis chat hadn’t gone as well as the one Darla and I were enjoying.
“So, what word of Stitches?”
It took Evis a moment to realize I was speaking to him.
“She’s alive. Exhausted, that’s all. Her assistant has her in that fancy clockwork coffin in her room. Says she’ll be up and around by morning.”
“Stitches has an assistant?”
“Yes. She’s so scary she never goes out in public. Is that relevant? Do I need to produce her full dossier, maybe drag her down here in chains?”
“Who put cranky in the beer?”
“I’m not drinking beer.”
“Could be why you’re cranky.”
“Is that your answer to everything, Markhat? More beer?”
I lifted my glass. “It’s as good as any.”
Evis muttered something unintelligible and resumed his sulk.
Men and halfdead scurried to and fro around us. The attack on the Queenhadn’t done any apparent damage, but engineers and boat-wrights and carpenters and wand-wavers were swarming over every inch of her regardless.
“So why didn’t our special guest’s security crew make an appearance?” I’d waited until no one was in earshot. Evis surprised me by answering.
“The body they are to guard wasn’t aboard, I suppose. They’re not exactly a talkative bunch.”
“I noticed.”
“I sent word to the House about the attack, you know.” Evis glared at a pair of engineers until they decided their report wasn’t really that urgent after all. “Got word back almost immediately. Proceed as planned.”
“So that puts us taking on passengers and a full crew the day after tomorrow, and setting out the day after that?”
“We start boarding tomorrow. Getting everyone through the security apparatus won’t be quick.”
I whistled. “Rich people don’t like waiting in lines.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what they like.” Evis wasn’t wearing his spectacles since the lights were so low, and his halfdead eyes sparkled like dirty marbles in the candlelight.
“Those new guns. Impressive. From the sound of it, you might have bloodied some old spook’s nose.”
The vampire grinned despite his funk. “Was keeping those secret for just such an occasion. It’s actually a gun with twenty-two barrels, which are mounted in a circle and turned by a hand-crank. Each one can fire nearly two hundred rounds a minute.” He hastily closed his lips over his pointy halfdead teeth. “Sorry.”
“Seems to me that you won that round, Mr. Prestley. So why the long, white face? They came, they threw their punches, they went home bleeding and empty-handed.”
Evis sat up with a long worn out sigh. “We caught them by surprise. That likely won’t happen again.”
“So come up with a new surprise.”
“I’ve only got so many, Markhat. I just used my best dirty little secret and we haven’t pulled away from the dock yet.”
Dutson came strolling out of the shadows. “Pardon me, Mr. Prestley,” he said, his expression a study in somber. “Your presence is requested in the wheelhouse.”
Evis rose. “Bright and early,” he said to me.
I winced. “Such language.”
“Dutson, cut him off for the evening. I need you sober.”
And with that, Evis was gone, blending easily with the shadows.
“I didn’t quite catch that last remark. Did you, Dutson?”
The man didn’t hesitate. “I believe he wished you a good evening, sir. Will you have a final beer before you retire?”
“Now that you mention it, I believe I shall. Dutson, you are a treasure.”
“So it is said, sir.”
Dutson headed for the kitchen. I watched the Queen’screw tend to her nonexistent wounds, and I wondered if Evis was telling the truth about being out of explosive surprises.
I surprised everyone by rising with the sun, bathing, shaving, and feeding myself, and appearing on the Queen’sforedeck a good quarter of an hour before Evis or Stitches made an appearance.
Darla still lay abed. I’d left a note and a crude sketch of a rose. With any luck, she’d be less inclined to shoot me in my fundament when she did rise.
Stitches met me with a nod. She was in her customary black robe, hood over her face, sleeves concealing her hands. Nothing in her gait or posture suggested any injury.
“Good morning,” I said.
Greetings. I trust you slept well?
“I did. You?”
I am fully recovered.
Evis joined us, wrapped in black silk, his eyes hidden by spectacles. He made an odd, dry, rasping noise behind the wrappings and it took me a moment to realize he was yawning.
“Pardon me. Good morning. Ready to get this underway?”
“No,” I said and was ignored.
I shall raise the interface and prepare the inspectors and the wards.
“Let’s get to it, then.”
It only took them an hour.
A single hour, in which to erect a monstrous brass ring, a good twelve feet in diameter, at the land-side end of the Queen’sprivate dock. It took six straining Ogres to set the ring upright and get the chains that held it vertical secured in place. As soon as Stitches began attaching cables to the thing, the space it enclosed began to shimmer and flash, which scattered the Ogres and made me wonder what might happen if I tossed a pebble through the middle of it.
While Stitches and her little band of white-coated wand-wavers fussed over the odd desk-like affair to which they attached the ring cables, a pair of cargo wagons rattled up to the waterfront and began disgorging men and material. A festive golden tent was soon wobbling in the wind, tables and chairs were placed neatly beneath it, and finally an honest-to-Angels red carpet was stretched out from tent to dock to the foot of the ring, lest any of Rannit’s fabulously wealthy be forced to tread on mere stone or common cypress planks.
Another wagon rolled up and a bleary-eyed, yawning mob of musicians spilled out, blinking in the morning sun, and sorting out their horns and fiddles and drums. They soon took their places under a second, much smaller tent and began to tootle and strum and tweet as they tuned up their instruments and adjusted their ties.
Darla pulled up a chair beside mine. “Good morning,” she said. “Thank you for the flower.”
“Best I could do,” I said, stealing a brief kiss. “Looks like the show is about to start.”
She blinked at the sun and shaded her eyes with her hand. “What is that thing?”
“One of Stitches’s little toys. I assume it turns anyone who is less than pure of heart into marmalade.”
Evis joined Stitches at her desk, along with her staff. There was much pointing and nodding of various heads.
“Gertriss wants me to meet her in the casino when boarding begins,” said Darla. “She plans to wander around and pretend to talk and listen to as many private conversations as she possibly can.”
“Smart girl.”
“She’s actually just avoiding being alone with Evis by having me there.”
Stitches, Evis, and the crew of white-coats huddled behind the desk, all eyes on the brass ring. Stitches reached down and did something I couldn’t see.
The ring flashed, like a mirror catching the sun. Everyone in sight of it winced or turned away.
When I could see again, Evis was halfway to the tent, yelling at someone in a tuxedo, and Stitches had taken a seat while her crew milled around nearby with satisfied grins.
“They’ll work it out, hon.”
“I hope so. He makes her happy, even though…well. You know.”
I didn’t, but I nodded sagely. That seemed to suffice.
She smiled as the band struck up a dance tune so lowbrow even I recognized it. “So, what clever plan are you hatching today, husband, and how will it impact Dutson’s beer supply?”
“Hardly at all. I’m going to watch. Mingle if the whim carries me. Hopefully if assassins board, one will get careless and drop a dagger and a signed confession.”
“Let’s hope. Have you had coffee? I need coffee.”
“Me too.”
Darla rose and smoothed down her long skirt. “Back in a bit, then. If assassins show up save one for me. I haven’t forgotten my good red rug.”
“I’ll leave you the big one.”
Below, liveried Avalante staff were setting up a bar and an outdoor kitchen. Another tent went up, as festive as the first, and shortly after that the band began to play in earnest.
The first of many sleek black carriages arrived. Doors were held open. Trumpets were sounded. Salutes were thrown. A pair of tipsy old generals, their dress blues hanging off them and rendering their appearance more scarecrow than soldier, tottered down the red carpet and toward the shadow of the first tent.
