The Clockwork Wolf (26 page)

I nodded. “I know him from when we were kids in Middy. Doc, how long will the strong suit work?”

“As long as you keep moving, love, the autowinders'll keep the motors going.” He patted the top of the dolly. “She's built to be perpetual.”

“You're amazing, mate.” I gave my old friend a kiss on the cheek. “Truly you are.”

I had Wrecker take charge of the dolly, and went to find Rina, who was tending to Janice.

“I thought I told you to stay with the deathmage,” my friend said as she coaxed her gel to take a spoonful of broth. “Or do you plan to spend all day and night casting up your accounts, too?”

I closed the door and leaned back against it. “Janice isn't sick. Neither is Felicity.”

“They can't keep down so much as a cracker, neither of them,” Rina snapped. “If it's not sickness, then . . . oh, God, no.”

“What is it?” Janice pushed the spoon away and sat up. “What?”

“You've been sloppy, is what.” Rina dropped the spoon back into the bowl. “You're knocked up.”

Janice laughed. “I don't think so. I never take a john without a hat on, and I tidy myself after with the herbal, every time. Besides, I ain't had me menses in a year and better. I'm on the change.”

Rina regarded her and then me. “I doubt the angels were involved. So how can she be pregnant?”

I walked over to the bed. “Janice, when the Wolfman attacked you in the park, where did he bite you?”

She shrugged her left shoulder out of her nightdress. “Felt like he sank his fangs down to the bone, but when I got back to the house there was only a bruise, and that's gone.”

I touched her shoulder, felt a hard spot beneath her skin, and drew back. “You should rest now. Rina, may I see Felicity?”

The other harlot was in much the same state as Janice, and grew hysterical when I asked her if she'd been bitten. Rina sent me from the room, and emerged a short time later.

“She's a bit of a priss,” she said after she closed the door. “Got her on the hip before he took her from the back. No wound, but something hard under her skin. It's a stone, isn't it?”

I knew Rina's gels were experts at eavesdropping, so I touched a finger to my lips before I said, “Likely a bit of swelling. You look as if you could use some air. Can Almira sit with the gels so we can have a walk?”

Rina accompanied me downstairs to the kitchens and instructed her cook to take over nursing Felicity and Janice. “Make them some dry toast and sweet tea,” she advised her. “That should settle their bellies.”

We walked down to the tavern, where Rina ordered a pitcher of hot cider and cakes to be served in a private room. Once the waitress left my friend set down her mug. “Right. Let's have it.”

I told her what Dredmore and I had discovered at the morgue, how Dez had removed the spirit stone from my arm, and about my visits to the other victims. “Dredmore is trying to find a spell that will stop the possession of the unborn, but it doesn't look promising.”

“Then we take the gels to the herbalist.” Rina drank down her cider. “She can give them a purgative.”

“That may not work—”

“It always works.” Rina met my gaze. “I got knocked up on my maiden night. I couldn't look after myself, much less an infant. One drink, bit of night cramps, and then it was over. Doesn't damage anything. I can even have more kids, if I ever lose my mind and decide to.”

“Carina.” I moved to sit beside her, and put my arm round her shoulders. “I'm so sorry you had to endure that.”

“I don't think about it much. Only every other time I see a mother with a pram.” She gave me a wan look. “What about you?”

“I was bitten, but the Wolfmen never had a chance to finish.” I glanced down at my belly. “So no bun to bake.”

“I don't mean them,” she said. “What about you and the deathmage?”

I decided to lie. “He's not tossed up my skirts, if that's what you mean.” No, I'd let them fall to my feet.

She nodded. “And Doyle?”

“Chief Inspector Doyle.” I sighed. “He's also been a perfect gentleman.”

“I must have imagined him bussing you at Rumsen Main, then.” Rina poured more cider in our mugs. “Face it, love. They're both sinfully handsome, charming chaps with much to offer, and they both want you. Rather badly, from what I've seen. You being a gel alone and all, in time one of them will wear you down.”

“Your confidence in me overwhelms,” I told her. “I think I can resist their charms. I'm not made out to be a mistress.”

“Dredmore has magic and money, and Doyle a decent heart and position. You'd do well with either of them.” She made a face. “I can't believe I'm saying this, but you should consider guiding one of them to the altar.”

Me, married to Dredmore or Doyle? I couldn't help but laugh. “I think not. Men like them do not make offers for gels like me.”

“Why shouldn't they? You're a pretty, clever virgin who owns a business and a home. You may not have a pile in the bank, but you're trustworthy, fair, and a good friend.” She moved her shoulders. “If I fancied the ladies I expect I'd be after you.”

“Even if you did, you're the sister I never had, so it'd be incest.” As the street window darkened I went to draw the curtains and then secured the door. “I have to summon Harry. If you'd rather go back to the Nest—”

“And miss the chance to meet your immortal grandda?” She settled back and sipped her cider. “I'm not budging an inch.”

“You won't be able to see him,” I advised her. “He only manifests to the spirit-born.”

Rina reached for a cake and nibbled on it as she watched me go through the brief business of summoning Harry.

“He's driven you to drink I see. It'll be gambling next.” He saw Rina and grinned. “Hello, my angel. At last we meet.”

She smiled back. “Did you haunt me in another life?”

I gaped at her. “You can see him?”

“Course, he's right there.” Rina's expression turned smug. “I guess that means I'm not so ordinary.”

“No,” I glared at my grandfather. “I suppose you're not. Someone might have mentioned that.”

“Slipped me mind.” He rolled his eyes at me before he sat down beside Rina. “Oh, no love, don't do that,” he said as she tried to touch him. “I'm not exactly solid, and you'll only freeze your fingers. In fact you may want to wrap up.”

“I guess there'll be no cider for you, then.” Rina shivered and scooted away as she pulled on her shawl.

“Harry, we need you to work a spell,” I said, and told him about the spirit stones placed in the pregnant women. “Can you protect the unborn from being possessed by the Aramanthan?”

“For a time.” He eyed my middle. “You're not with child, you know.”

“She hasn't done anything to make one,” Rina advised him in a half whisper. “I think she's determined to die a virgin. Absolute waste if you ask me.”

“Don't distract him,” I warned her before I said to Harry, “How long can you protect the unborn?”

“Not for nine months.” He thought about it and then his expression cleared. “But there is another way. I'll have to make individual visitations, but they'll never know I'm there.” He stood up. “I'll be gone most the night. Mind you gels stay indoors.”

Rina's eyes widened as Harry vanished. “He just pops in and out like that all the time?”

“Unfortunately.” I turned my head as muffled shouts came from outside the door. “Rowdy place, this.”

“Too early for the usual drunken rows.” Rina hiked up her skirts and drew a blade from a sheath strapped to her calf. “You didn't bring a dagger, I suppose. You never think to bring a bloody dagger, and I was in too much of a hurry to grab a pistol.”

“Not my fault this time. Dredmore nicked mine.” I grabbed a fire iron from the hearth and went to stand behind the door, which burst open a moment later.

The natives who filed into the room were armed with pistols and dressed in fine livery of a dozen different houses. Rina didn't look at me as she backed away, holding her blade ready.

“This room's taken, gents,” she said. “You'll want to have your libations somewhere else.”

“We not here to drink.” A short native dressed like a gentlemen stepped out of the crowd. “Where's Little Fox?”

“In the bloody little forest, I imagine,” Rina snapped.

One of the natives raised his pistol and cocked the hammer.

“Tell me,” the shaman said, “or die.”

“I'm here.” I stepped out from behind the door, ignoring Rina's swearing as I faced the natives. “You let my friend go, and I'm all yours.”

As the shaman nodded, Rina swore. “Kit, damn you, no.”

“If he wanted me dead, he'd have cut my throat at the station,” I reminded her as I watched his pale, chilling eyes. “Now drop the blade and get the hell out of here, Rina.”

I was cloaked and led out the back of the tavern by the shaman's livery party, which hustled me into the back of a straw-lined horse cart.

I pulled off the cloak and struggled to my feet. “Where are you taking me?” No one answered me. The doors slammed shut and I heard the bolt drop before the cart jerked. I landed in the straw, fell back, and looked up at a coil of rope. “Away, right.”

I tried kicking the doors to dislodge the bolt bar, which didn't move, and pounded on the sides of the cart and shouted for help. None came. After an hour of that I lost my voice and occupied myself by picking an assortment of splinters out of my good hand with my teeth.

By my reckoning and sense of direction we were out of the city and headed into native country. As a child I'd heard the usual gruesome tales of what happened to citizens who strayed into the pact territories; they all ended up in a cooking pot or buried to the neck in sand for the delight of the vultures.

I couldn't see myself making much of a meal for the shaman, but the thought of having my eyes pecked out before I could expire of brain boil under the burning sun did needle a bit.

“To think, I could be wheedling tea and biscuits
out of Winslow right now.” The inside of the cart was growing dark; the little bit of sunlight shining through the chinks was rapidly dwindling. At least the Wolfmen wouldn't have another go at me, not out here.

I closed my eyes to summon Harry, and then stopped. While my straits were rather dire, I hadn't been harmed yet. “I'd better save you for when they start digging the pit.”

A silver mist formed over the straw. “What pit?” Harry materialized and fell down. After rubbing his hip he frowned at me. “What are you doing all the way out here in the wilderness?”

“Oh, I thought I'd tour a village or two.” I fought back the urge to fling my arms round him and sob with gratitude. “What about you? Were you able to bespell the unborn?”

“About half done. I should have the rest seen to before dawn.” He glanced round the cart. “What are you doing in this thing?”

I sighed. “I've been abducted. Again.”

“You do make it a habit, gel.” He picked a piece of straw off his sleeve. “By natives, too, and that's not good at all. What have you done to infuriate this lot?”

“The shaman never said. A heathen of few words.” I felt the cart beginning to slow. “Any suggestions?”

“Be polite. They still fancy scalps.” As the back of the cart opened he vanished.

I ignored the native offering me a hand and jumped down into knee-high grass. Firelight glowed from a large pit some distance away, illuminating dozens of round huts made of bundled twigs and branches, and painted
with large, curving designs. From the pointed roofs fluttered strips of twinkling beads, and curtains of feathers hung over the arched entries.

I scanned the unfriendly faces round me, but didn't see the shaman. I did notice some of the locals had come out of their huts to have a look at me, and they hadn't bothered to dress. I kept my eyes on their faces. “Lovely village. Very colorful.”

A native woman wearing a hide cape over very little else pushed past the men and beckoned to me. “You, come.”

I followed her, trying not to flinch as some of the men reached out to touch my hair and my sleeves. They didn't hurt, and seemed only curious, but the experience was decidedly unnerving.

The caped Godiva led me through the village to a smaller hut on the other side, where she pushed aside the curtain of feathers and motioned for me to go in.

I hesitated. “Could I speak with someone in charge, please? Or perhaps you could send for a bureau agent, to speak on my behalf?”

“In,” she said with a jab of her finger.

I walked through the arched opening and turned as the curtain fell back in place. Beyond it I could see the native woman standing with her back toward me as if guarding the hut.

More hides covered the dirt floor, and while there were no proper furnishings, I noted a bed made of woven blankets covering a mound of straw, and several dried gourds and strings of smoked fish. Seashells, most polished, hung on strings from the woven-branch ceiling.

I looked for scalps but didn't see any, nor a shovel for any pit digging. “Harry,” I whispered. “What's happening outside?”

My grandfather appeared on the blanketed straw and reclined. “They've gathered about the fire to talk. Some of them look important.” He pointed to his head.

“I know almost nothing about natives,” I advised him. “And I've not time for charades.”

“It's the gull feathers,” he said. “They're white and gray, and only chiefs wear them. There are ten blokes out there with gull feathers in their hair.”

“That's utterly fascinating.” I folded my arms. “And completely useless.”

“You youngsters never bother to study your Torian history.” He sighed. “There's only one reason so many chiefs would gather like this in one village. They're holding a war council.”