The Clockwork Wolf (14 page)

“The sort who'll take everything a man cares for,” he said grimly. “Never again, says I.”

Guilt knotted my tongue, for what Hedger didn't know was that Harry had been responsible for his misfortunes. I had learned of it before I'd defeated Zarath, and managed to persuade my grandfather to apologize, but I couldn't do the same now. Nor could I tell him I was Harry's granddaughter, or he might give me a hard push over the fake banister instead of the much-needed sanctuary.

Finally we arrived at an odd door patched together out of bits of planking and old shingles. He picked out one knotted loop from a tangle of many and tugged it, lifting the interior bar latch.

I stepped inside and smelled wood smoke, tea, and—

“Apples?”

“Couple of crates got jammed in the market tubes,” Hedger said. “Kept what got bruised and been pressing them into cider.”

As Hedger moved about lighting his lamps things began to glitter, and I saw the plastered wall nearest to
me had been artfully inlaid with thousands of pieces of colored glass, gleaming metal, and broken pottery, all polished and fitted together like some giant's puzzle.

I turned round to admire his handiwork, which the lamps revealed covering every inch of all the walls. “It's beautiful. Like Aladdin's cave.”

He blushed. “Always been a magpie for shiny things. All the years down in the mines, I expect. Sleeping chamber's back here.”

I followed him to a smaller adjoining chamber made up with sparse but comfortable-looking furnishings that resembled the door he'd built out of scraps. “I don't want to turn you out of your own bed, Hedger.”

He waved a hand. “Nod off in my chair by the steam venting most days. Besides, ye'll sleep nights when I'm out minding the tubes.”

Hedger insisted on making up the bed with clean sheets, something I protested until he showed me the enormous pile in his closet that he'd collected from hotel tubes (regularly overloading by the maids, he claimed, resulted in frequent jams and tons of linen scram). He also provided some wool-wrapped hot bricks from his hearth to warm the cold sheets. After I spread out my hospital blanket as a coverlet and refused his offer of warm cider, I sent him off to work.

Hedger's bed was a bit lumpish, and to be comfortable I had to turn on my side. When I had first arrived in Rumsen as a gel I'd had trouble sleeping in strange places; in Middy I'd always had the comfort of my own bed in my parents' house. Lady Bestly's success in turning me into a beggar had cured me of that; ever since those
days I could sleep anywhere, even standing up if I had something to lean against while I dozed.

I certainly had my back to the wall now, in a manner of speaking. I closed my eyes. Why send the Wolfman after me again? Because he failed to kill me the first time? They didn't murder Rina's gels or the other woman in the park . . .

I knew I was dreaming when I found myself standing in the aisle of the market tram again. This time every seat stood empty except for that of the driver, who had turned round and was watching me. I couldn't see his face for the shadows, but his eyes shone, all black. Outside the tram I heard howling and saw moonlight bathing the streets in liquid silver.

“You are not like the others.” The driver reached out and closed the door to the tram, breaking off the handle before allowing it to drop to the floor. “You are cunning. I can smell your power.”

“I do need a bathe.” Carefully I took a step back and heard a snarl just behind me. When I glanced over my shoulder I saw it was another Wolfman crouching at the end of the aisle. Blood made dark streaks through the gray-white hair covering his body.

“My soldiers die too quickly,” the driver said as he approached me. “The magic will not hold for long, and not at all when they come to you.” Long white teeth flashed as he grinned. “You will tell me why this is, mortal, that I may complete the spell.”

“You're mistaken.” He was Aramanthan and, I suspected, using my dreaming slumber to get into my mind. “I have no magic or spell advice.”

The driver inched closer. “Tell me how to keep my soldiers alive. Tell me now, and I will not make you a vessel.”

He stretched out his hand as if to touch me, and the moonlight gleamed along his long, daggerlike claws. I could feel the hot breath of the Wolfman, too, burning against the back of my neck. The prospect of being torn apart by the beast didn't frighten me as much as those claws coming ever closer to my face.

A cloud of black mist enveloped me, dragging me through the roof of the tram as though it were made of nothing but air. I flew through the night sky, cradled in no more than that dark cloud, and I had never felt so relieved, so safe—or so annoyed.

I drifted down to a wide cliff above the bay, where the mist carrying me set me gently on my feet and swirled away. “They couldn't hurt me,” I grumbled as I turned, looking for him. “This is a dream. None of it is real.” I frowned. “Your magic shouldn't have worked, either.”

“I am miles away from you in the waking world.” Dredmore materialized before me in a ghostly version of himself. “You cannot break my spells—or theirs—unless you touch us. Where are you, Charmian?”

“Here, obviously.” His features were almost transparent, but still I could make out his scowl. “The driver on the tram was Aramanthan, and he called the Wolfmen his ‘soldiers.' There's something wrong with the spell he's using on them, and the idiot seems to think I can fix it.”

He moved to look out at the sea. “Did he offer you a bargain?”

“I think so.” I tried to remember what he had said. “Something about not making me his vessel. Maybe by
that he meant not putting any mech inside me to turn me into one of his creatures. They really can't hurt me when I'm sleeping, can they?”

“He can deceive you into believing whatever he wishes, and influence your waking decisions.” Dredmore scanned the horizon. “I have the sense of him now. He is not coming to Toriana as I assumed. He is already here. I think he has been, for some time.”

“An Aramanthan, working as a common tram driver?” I chuckled. “I hardly think so, Lucien. You know how snobby they are about the bodies they snatch for themselves.” I thought of Lady Bestly's footman. “He must be creating the Wolfmen for something other than possession. He called them his soldiers. Does that mean they're to be his army?”

“It is possible.” He came to me. “I will ward your dreams tonight, but the distance between us makes it difficult. You must come to Morehaven as soon as the sun rises, when the Aramanthan's power dwindles.”

“Hiding in your house will only make things worse,” I pointed out. “If I'm there your spells won't work, and your mind-power works only on spirit-born mortals. If he truly has an army of these Wolfmen, and he sends them to attack Morehaven, we're finished.”

He looked down at me. “Then I will come and stay with you.”

“You're that determined to protect me.” I reached out to touch him and felt a cool tingle against my skin. “Unless you want to take up permanent residence in my house, we have to find him, Lucien, and stop him. It's the only way I'll ever be safe again.”

“The last time you fought an immortal,” he murmured, “you had to kill me.”

“You told me to do it,” I reminded him, “and I did alter the course of history to bring you back. Surely that made up for my driving a spike through your heart. So how do we ferret out this immortal during the daylight?”

“I will tell you when I see you tomorrow, at your office.” He bowed his head to press a whisper of a ghostly kiss against my brow. “Sleep now, my heart. I will keep watch over your dreams.”

So he would, I knew, and I closed my eyes and gave myself to the dark.

•   •   •

The sound of tubes clanging mixed with the scent of cinnamon to rouse me from my sleep, and I opened my eyes to see Hedger standing with a steaming mug at the foot of his bed.

“Morning, love.” He brought the tea to me and studied my face. “Ye rested well?”

“I did, thank you, Mr. Hedgeworth.” I sat up and took a sip from the mug, which was not tea but spiced cider. “This is very good.”

“I've put a bit of breakfast out by the hearth for ye.” He smothered a yawn. “Will ye be staying downside for the day, then?”

“I must go and meet someone at my office.” Once I was topside I could catch a trolley, although the thought made me feel a little sick. “I'll return before dark. Do you know a shortcut through the tunnels that would bring me up close to the Davies building?”

He scratched his grizzled cheek. “Why would ye wish
to be close when ye could go right in through Docket's Dungeon? ' Tis only four passages and a junction skip south of here.”

“You know Mr. Docket?” I grinned as he nodded. “That's marvelous. But I never knew there was an entry to tunnels in my building.”

“ 'Twas none, till the old tinker melted a hole through the foundation,” Hedger said.

I winced. “Melted?”

“Ye don't want to know, gel. I still have nightmares,” he said. “Found him wandering about exploring and had a chat. Been selling mech scram to him ever since then. He were down right before ye came, looking for braces and gears and such.”

So Doc was back at work, and I had another soul to worry over.

After Hedger walked me out of his booby-trapped lair and gave me precise directions on how to reach the Davies building, he produced a small bundle of red velvet and shook it out. “Found this cloak blocking one of the tubes to the Hill. Too small for me.” He draped it over my shoulders and drew the hood up over my hair. “Fits ye much better.”

I stroked the sinfully soft material. “This is silk velvet, Hedger. You could sell it to a dressmaker for quite a packet.”

“Some things were meant to be sold, and others given.” He fastened the frogs under my chin. “Now go on with ye so I can get some shut-eye.”

I took care to follow Hedger's directions precisely as I made my way through the tunnels, and when I passed
through the junction he'd described I spotted the ladder and hoist he'd told me Docket had installed. They led up into a slab of blackstone with a large, irregular opening. I climbed up the rungs, grimacing as I passed through glassy edges of the hole and emerged in the back corner of the Dungeon.

“Doc?” I called out over a whirring, pumping sound, and followed it to one of his wall racks, where the old mech was standing and making adjustments to a star-shaped frame of gears and pistons in motion. The sound drowned out my voice, so I stepped into his view and waved a hand.

“Kit?” He reached up to tug a switch and the mech shut off. “You shouldn't be here. Beautiful cloak, love the scarlet on you. Makes your eyes shine. Now why did you leave hospital?”

“I'm much better, and I have to meet someone.” I glanced at the stairs leading up to the lobby. “I was wondering if I could borrow one of your swords.”

“Who are you meeting, a Wolfman?” he joked, and then his smile faded. “Oh, God. Are you expecting one of the beasts to come here?”

“No, unless you consider Lord Dredmore beastly, which would be entirely understandable.” I gave him a pained smile. “Actually the sword is more for personal protection after dark.”

“You won't need a sword. I've been working on something much better.” He gestured at the rack. “It's this. Well, I don't have a proper name for it yet, but it's a harness, built for you.”

I glanced at the mech. “You want to harness me to a wall exactly why?”

“It doesn't stay on the wall. You wear it, like a suit of armor.” He pointed to the uppermost extensions. “These fit over your arms, and the two lower on your legs. We will have to make some adjustments for your skirts, of course. Then this piece goes over your front, and there's another for your back. I have to fit a collar to shield your neck, and we should definitely think on some sort of helmet—”

“Doc, I do appreciate you inventing this for me.” If I stayed another moment he'd want to put it on me. “But this harness as it is now must weigh three or four times as much I do. If I wore it, I couldn't take a step without falling on my face.”

“No, dear gel, you don't understand. I've designed it to support your weight and respond to your movements. Watch.” He threw on the switch, and the mech whirred into motion. He then had to shout to be heard over it. “The winders draw on your muscle motions in the harness to power the motors. All along the inside are levers I've preset to locomotion, but as soon as you kick, punch, or run, the gears shift into battle-or-be-off mode.” He looked at my face and switched it off. “Once I've worked out a few snags it will protect you and make you much, much stronger.” He beamed. “You should also be able to run a mile in a minute. Possibly less.”

If it did all that, I was queen of Toriana. “And did you bang your head when you were testing it?”

“It sounds impossible, I know,” he assured me. “But I based my design on the mech I saw inside that poor chap at the morgue.” He patted the frame. “I've adapted what they're putting inside the Wolfmen, Kit, to be worn on your outside.”

At last I understood. “Doc, just how powerful is this harness?”

He beamed. “If my calculations are right—and I know they are—it should make you as strong as three of them.”

I left Docket to continue tinkering on his improbable harness and took the back stairs up to my office. I was so preoccupied that I forgot about Gert, who came rushing down the corridor as soon as I emerged from the landing.

“There you are, you wicked creature.” She tossed some herbs from a small sack at me. “I knew if I kept my vigil you'd slither back from whatever corruption you've been visiting on the innocent. What evil have you wrought now?”