Turnkey (The Gaslight Volumes of Will Pocket Book 1) (33 page)

“Illustrated?”

“With an emblem.”

“Of what?”

“Uh...I'll get
around to that in a bit.”

...and over a pair
of piloting goggles sat a tall, seafaring hat upon her hair, decorated with
lace and pearls.

“A lot of money on
these sailors.”

“Right. If you'll
let me continue...”

She looked us over
and returned her eyes to our escort.

“So what kept
you?” she said. “Oh, and hi, Gren.”

“Hey,” he replied.

“Alexia offered me
breakfast,” the lady's shipmate stated, rubbing his beard. “And Mister Pocket
puts spice into goodbyes.”

Sigh.

“Spice, huh?” the
woman said. “Well, don't be surprised when I leave you behind while
you're...spicing...”

“Yes, yes,” our
escort said, shaking off her criticisms. “We're here now, aren't we?”

“I guess.” She
took a long breath. “So, which one of you is Pocket? You?” she said, addressing
Kitt. “You look like a talker.”

“I'm Kitt Sunner,”
he said, as if he expected her to already know that.

“Oh. Nice ears.”

“I'm Pocket,” I
said, raising my hand. “Will Pocket.”

“I see. The tower
in the back.”

Tower?

“Welcome aboard,
tall man,” she continued. “You'll find plenty of spice here.”

“I can see that.
And you are?”

“Call me B.”

“Bee?” Kitt
laughed. “Like the insect?”

The lady turned a
glare on Kitt at once.

“Do I know you?”

“Not closely.”

“That's what I
thought.” Her fingers slid down to a custom-rigged switchblade knife that hung
at her side.

“Although,” Kitt
said, tempting fate, “if you
were
a bee, you wouldn't have much use for
that nice-looking knife because you'd probably just sting people into
submission.”

We all stopped and
took the time to stare at him with exasperated confusion.

“I'm sorry,” I had
to say. “But
what?
”

“Well, that is
their general means of defense, Pocket,” he said back, confident.

B started shaking
her head at Kitt, and I was half certain that she was going to throw him over
the ship's side. She surprised me by suddenly laughing.

“You are a strange
one, aren't you?” she said, softening into a smile. “That's good. You'll fit in
more easily around here, fox ears.”

Kitt grinned and
shrugged his shoulders at her.

“Hold on, now.”

“Not yet, Alan.”

“A lady called B
with a blade...on the
Lucidia
? I'm sure I've—”

“In due time,
Alan. Due time.”

“Well, well!” our
peculiar, bearded escort spoke, clapping his hands together most joyfully. “So
we're all well met. Now then, there's just the matter of your admittance fee,
and I'll have you shown around.”

A rock I don't
remember swallowing sunk to the bottom of my stomach.

“Fee?” I managed.
“For...uh...”

“Passage and
board, yes.”

“Oh...” I said,
and then added for good measure, “...uh...”

“What?” the red
beard asked.

“Well, uh, it's
just that...”

“It's just what?”

“Uh...Gren didn't
mention that we would be charged for our stay.”

“He didn't? Are
you sure you were paying attention?”

“I think I
would've remembered.”

“I see. Well,
that's a problem.”

“Whoa,” Gren
interjected. “Hold on. When I came knocking, you told me that Pocket didn't
have to worry about paying his way onboard.”

“Pocket, no,” B
said. “But we never said anything about his cohorts.”

“Cohorts?” Kitt
mumbled.

“What?” B snapped.
“Just because we let you bum around here for no charge, Spader, you think we
can afford to do the same for everyone you meet?”

“Oh, forgive me!”
Gren retaliated. “I didn't realize I was such a burden!”

“Wait,” I said. “I
don't understand. Why would this crew offer me, just me, free passage to—“

“Not important
now,” Gren griped. “What
is,
if you haven't noticed, is what we're going
to do about the fox and the clock.”

“Don't call me
that!” Dolly fussed.

“All right!” I
said, trying to calm everyone down. “Everyone just...breathe...calm yourselves.”

The sailors didn't
find much comfort in my suggestion, only impatience.

“Mister Pocket...”
B flatly began.

“Yes, yes. Just
give me a second.”

“I'll give you
five. Four. Three.”

I turned an
apologetic eye to Dolly and Kitt and raised my shoulders.

“Got anything on
you?”

The Doll offered
up the remainder of her tube of lipstick.

“Doubt that’ll
cover it,” I said. “Kitt?”

He shrugged.

“Nothing?” I
continued. “You didn’t…you know…”

“What?”

“You know.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Take anything
from the tea house?”

“Oh. No. I didn’t
swipe anything.”

“Ah.” I felt
instantly guilty for asking that question. There are times, I reminded myself,
when a thief isn’t thieving.

“Probably should
have, huh?” Kitt said.

My guilt flew over
the side of the ship and impaled itself on the clouds. Hmph.

“Guess so,” I
responded. Sarcasm had taken guilt’s place with a much more solid foothold.

“No,” Kitt said,
correcting himself. “What
you
should’ve done was not stop me from
loading up at the watch shop.”

“Loading up?”
Dolly asked, bringing a flavor of suspicion to the stew of implied tones that
were boiling between the three of us.

“We could have
sold our way into a nice bit of money,” Kitt continued. “But, oh no! The high
and mighty Archbishop Pocket will not stand for such—“

“Loading
up?!?
”
the girl repeated.

“Relax, Doll,” I
said. “I didn't let him take—“

“What did you
touch?” she shouted, barreling through my sentences to fire her eyes like
buckshot at Kitt. “I didn't say you could touch anything! Those things were not
your property!”

“Sorry!” Kitt
said, backing away in fear. “I didn't think you'd really...care...”

“Why?!?” she
demanded to know. “Because I'm a dusty old
clock?!?
”

“I'm sorry, I
said! If it makes you feel better, I stole Pocket's bottle too.”

“Why would that
make it any better?!?”

“I don't know!
Stop yelling at me!”

“Besides, that was
just a dumb old bottle!”

“Thanks,” I tossed
into the conversation, not expecting to be acknowledged, or at least hoping.

“Very bad,
Kitt-Kitt!” Dolly said, shaking her fingers. He sulked. I felt the oncoming of
another headache. They had become so common around these two. Then Kitt decided
to steer the conversation to me.

“Well, at least if
I
had,
” he complained, “we'd have something to barter with here! What
did you tell me, Pocket? Take nothing more valuable than a scrap of paper?
Well,
here.
”

He made a big
scene of yanking the crinkled scraps he had mockingly gathered from the watch
shop and tossed them into the air. The red-bearded man plucked a few between
his fingers.

“How about it?”
Kitt jested to the sky sailors. “Don't suppose you'd let us pay our way with
bits of papers?”

“Actually,” the
man said, eying the pieces in his hands, “in this case, I absolutely will.”

 Lady Fate
and her more ill-mannered sister Luck have a funny tendency of flirting with a
man. Even, it seems, if that man is an ink-stained commoner such as your humble
narrator. Those girls must get considerably bored to take up games with the
likes of me.

I imagine Luck
succumbing to boredom first and, furiously tugging on her sister’s hems,
singing “How about a bit of fun?”

“What do you
suppose?” Fate would reply.

“I know! I know!”
the other would grin, flashing teeth. “Let’s play with that silly Will Pocket.
Drop him upon a steamship.”

“And then?”
“Well, I suppose we could take the papers the thief grabbed and reveal them
as...say...”

The man raised his
rust-colored brows as the word left his lips.

“Schematics.”

“What?” I said.

“What?” Kitt said.

“Let me see that,”
I said, peeling one of the pages from him. He was right. I don't claim to be a
man of great technical learning, but I voiced the observations that immediately
came to me.

“Funny-looking
handwriting.”

“Who cares about
the handwriting?” the red beard said. “Don't you see what you have here? The
workings?”

By “workings,” I assumed
he meant the sketches. Little drawings in faded ink of screws, hinges,
complicated machinery I had never dreamt of. Then again, my dreams are
predominantly more...colorful...

“You'll have to
excuse me,” I said to my hosts. “But what exactly are you telling me we have
here?”

“Progress,” the
red beard grinned. “Possibility. Ingenuity.”

“Meaning?”

“Fancy little
bits, sir.”

“I see. Miss B?”

“Yes?” the blonde
replied.

“Can you tell me
what he's trying not to say?”

She sighed. “Yes.
I forgot that most cannot translate this one's vague tongue. They're
schematics.”

“We've established
that.”

“If you'll let me
finish...”

“Excuse me.”

“They're
schematics...
and
...as it happens, the captain of our little ship is a
bit of a tinkerer.”

“Oh. Is he?”

“Yeeees...meaning...Mister
Pocket...you have a very fortunate find on your hands.”

Kitt puffed up his
chest.

“That so?” he
said. “How about that? Little Kitt saves us all.”

I ignored that and
continued with B.

“So, you'll let
my...companions...stay in exchange for these papers? No catches?”

“No catches,” she
said. “So what do you say, tall man?”

I glanced back at
Dolly for reassurance, nay, permission to hand away the inky scraps that were,
as I saw it, belonging solely to her. She reluctantly gave me approval with a
shy but steady nod. I then took the blonde lady's hand with a smile. “Madame,
you have a deal.”

“Wait. What did
you just call the lady, Pocket?”

“Not important,
Alan.”

“You called her
madame,
right?”

“I call lots of
ladies 'madame.' Doesn't mean a—“

“There's something
awfully familiar here.”

“Can I just tell
the story?”

“Sure, but—“

“Moving on.”

The peculiar,
red-bearded man, excitement in his eyes, made a quick bow and scurried off with
the schematics lustfully clamped in his hands. I assumed that he was off to
deliver his find to the
Lucidia's
captain, whoever that may be. B
shouted something after him, but he ignored it and disappeared downstairs into
a private cabin. Miss B rolled her eyes and approached us. She opened her mouth
to say something, but Gren denied her the opportunity.

“So where's Jack?”
he butted in, leaving B with an insulted reaction.

“Where do you
think?” she dryly responded, crossing her arms. “Same place as always.”

“Should've known.”
Gren snorted and patted me on the shoulder. “You all wait here. Don't touch
anything. I've got to talk to my friend.”

Without waiting
for a response, he clomped off. Miss B clucked her tongue.

“So you've been
traveling with Mister Rusted Sides, huh?”

“I'm afraid so,” I
said.

“Hmph...” B said,
watching Gren fumble with an old door's latching. “I am so sorry for what
you've endured.”

Dolly giggled.

“Well, ignore the
hothead,” B continued. “Touch whatever the hell you want. This boat doesn't
sink so easily.”

“Good to hear!”
Kitt cheerfully said. “So, Miss B. What is it that you do here on the
Lucidia?
Are you some sort of hostess or something?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, you know, I
ask because—“

“I'm the first
mate.”

“Oh yeah?”

“As in, ‘of this
ship.’ Second in command.”

“Is that so?”

“That's so. You
surprised, fox?”

“Well, a little.
Since, well, you're a woman and all.”

“Oh, am I? I never
noticed.”

Dolly and I took a
step back and watched Kitt eagerly begin digging out his own grave.

“Well, no, don't
misunderstand me,” he said, scooping another shovelful. “I think that's great.
I was once told about ladies such as yourself in nautical...or I
suppose...aerial positions such as this.”

“Uh-huh,” B said
flatly. “And what exactly were you told?”

“Oh, you know. A
step up in the world, and all that. Ladies familiar with the company of
sailors, businesswomen, really. Ladies of, you know, the evening.”

“Prostitutes,” B
interjected without tone.

“Exactly!” Kitt
naively continued. “I've heard that their experience, you know,
working
the
seas and skies made for natural experience in the sailing industries. Is that
about how you came by your current position?”

B turned three
shades of boiling red, squeezed the tiniest yet most fearsome fist I have ever
seen, and in a move of fantastic restraint, excused herself to go check current
readings on a nearby barometer.

Dolly and I shared
a long exhale as the fiery lady sailor marched away from us.

“Is she mad at
me?” Kitt loudly asked.

The blonde madame
stopped in her tracks, shot her back up and erect, and turned a pair of killer
pupils on the foolishly-outspoken thief.

“Is she?” B
snapped. “The she standing
right
next to you, who can hear you say
everything? The one whom you called a whore?”

“I
inquired
if
you were a whore,” Kitt pointed out.