The Broken Bell Read online

  Mills declined. I followed my new friend out, and was glad he closed the door behind me, but didn’t lock it.

  “I trust you take no offense,” said the halfdead, when we were out of earshot of the waiting room. “You are known to us. He is not.”

  “None at all. I prefer to do this alone, anyway.”

  “Good.” We walked through halls as quiet as any tomb. I knew there were dozens, perhaps hundreds, of halfdead around me, but they collectively made all the racket of a dropped silk hanky. “We have been in constant contact with the Regency, by the way. The news is promising.”

  “So they haven’t blown themselves up yet.”

  “Indeed not.” We came to a door flanked by a pair of live guards. My friend rattled off a string of nonsense words, and they stepped aside.

  “Come,” said the halfdead. He looked hard at the door, and it swung silently inwards. “Evis is waiting.”

  I didn’t have time to show him my famous lifted eyebrow trick, so I just hurried inside.

  The room was dark, as halfdead rooms tend to be. So maybe it tricked my eyes into thinking it was larger than it really was. I’ll probably never know the answer to that one.

  Ten paces away from us was a massive iron contraption so tall they’d been forced to dig away at the ceiling to accommodate the top of the thing. Ten men could have ringed it around at the bottom, if they were willing to stand right against the thing and really stretch their arms. I wouldn’t do it, though, because it leaked steam in hissing sprays and spat showers of sparks seemingly at random from between whirling sets of gears and cogs.

  Furious, tiny lightning-storms played about a series of metal spikes set like a crown atop the thing. The smell was the same fresh clean smell you get after bad storms. The thunder was miniature, but constant.

  A small crew of mixed day folk and halfdead rushed around the device, putting out fires with blackened, damp blankets or shoving odd-looking metal tools into gaps in the mechanism. They communicated in curses and brief exchanges of jargon that were no more intelligible than ogre or Troll.

  “Are we ready?” said my guide, over the noise.

  A harried human with burn marks over his thick canvas shirt turned to face us.

  “We’re having trouble with the coolant, sir. Keeping it short would be advisable.”

  My guide nodded. “Understood.” He pointed me toward a desk-like affair, upon which a shiny copper funnel rested, the wide end facing the chair. “Sit there. Speak slowly and clearly. You may expect a minute, perhaps less, before we lose the Regency.”

  I sat. Mama Markhat didn’t raise her kids to pester vampires with stupid questions.

  The funnel crackled, hissed and then it spoke.

  “Hiya, Markhat,” came a voice. Evis’s voice.

  “Hello, boss.” That was Gertriss. “Everything is fine here.”

  I cleared my throat. The whole room was watching me, and the day folk were trying to hide their grins.

  “Evis. Miss. And Buttercup—are you there too, honey?”

  A high-pitched giggle sounded from the funnel.

  “So. Another miracle of arcane science. Beats carrier pigeons, I suppose.”

  “Not really. Fails all the time. Surprised it’s working now. But I wanted to talk to you more or less in person, Markhat. We’re making much better speed than I thought. We’re going to make the bluffs in plenty of time. Ahead of schedule, even.”

  “As long as the barges don’t hit a log.”

  “Always the ray of sunshine, Markhat. Listen. Your partner is worried—had any more visitors from her old hometown?”

  “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” I briefed her on Mama’s last letter. I didn’t mention Mills. The last thing I needed was a lifetime of chiding from Evis about hiring bodyguards every time he left town.

  Evis spoke again as I wrapped up Mama’s exploits in Pot Lockney.

  “By the way. If you see our mutual friends, please tell them thanks for me.”

  “Thanks for what?”

  “They’ll know. Oh. Are you keeping your sword handy?”

  “Got it right here,” I lied.

  “Don’t be an ass. Arm yourself.” The funnel issued a loud screech, and a fresh shower of blue sparks erupted from the top of the clanking ironwork in the center of the room.

  Men and halfdead rushed about shouting. Buckets of a white powder were thrown wherever flames began to dance. My halfdead guide took my elbow and gently hustled me out of the room.

  “Pigeons seldom burst into flames,” I noted as he shut the door firmly behind us.

  He nodded. “I shall pass your observation on to the House. Is there anything else we can do for you tonight, Mr. Markhat?”

  “Not a thing,” I said.

  He raised the ghost of an eyebrow. “Surely you do not intend to walk back to your office?”

  “The night air is invigorating.”

  “I shall arrange for a carriage to meet you on the street. You may of course keep it for the night, if you wish.”

  “I don’t want to abuse your generosity.”

  He nearly smiled.

  “We are allies. Evis has left instructions that you be assisted in any way possible. I shall make the arrangements.”

  “Thanks.”

  He nodded, and another halfdead appeared at my side, and soon I was back at the sitting room with Mills.

  “All done?” he asked.

  “For now. We’ve got a ride. I’ll drop you back at your place.”

  He nodded. “You have the most interesting friends.”

  “That I do.” I thought back to Evis’s admonition that I keep Toadsticker handy. “That I do.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The ride back to Mills’s place was silent.

  He snoozed. I pondered. Evis had gone to a lot of trouble to hold a brief conversation, which meant it must have been important.

  Mention of our mutual friend meant Hisvin, of course. And asking me to convey his thanks was Evis’s way of letting me know he had something brewing with the Corpsemaster—something so private he didn’t want it spoken, even in Avalante.

  And if that wasn’t bad enough, he’d told me to keep Toadsticker handy.

  My sword was a gift from Evis himself, last year. Its steel holds a charm against the halfdead.

  Which makes his mention of my need of it doubly worrisome.

  Trouble among the Houses? Trouble within Avalante itself?

  Or perhaps one of the other dark Houses had decided to throw in with the invaders from Prince.

  Which would make Evis and I prime targets for all sorts of unpleasantness.

  I cussed. Mills stirred. I was going to keep Toadsticker handy, all right. To the point of bathing and sleeping with the hilt in my hand.

  I dropped Mills off in front of his flophouse. He yawned and waved and vanished in the shadows.

  My driver thumped the roof, wondering where to go next.

  “Cambrit,” I said. “Take a couple extra turns. Make it a long trip.”

  “You got it.”

  I settled back, shut the curtain and sat in the dark all the way there.

  I managed to get in and out of my office without suffering a beating. When I emerged, I carried a bag stuffed with clothes and shoes and shaving gear, and Toadsticker was on my belt.

  Hillbillies under a hex I could risk. Halfdead with murder on their minds was another matter entirely. My door was built to keep out drafts and rain, not monsters.

  I knew I could bunk at Avalante, if I wanted. And the idea did hold some appeal. But it would be hard to work a case from a walnut-paneled guest room, and I did have a case to work.

  I bade my driver to just take turns at random while I tried to put together a plan. I’d have to sleep at some point. I’d need a place to change clothes. Darla’s was out, since the last thing I wanted to do was drag her into trouble involving the Houses. Ditto for just picking the lock on Mama’s door and sleeping there.

  I’d nee
d a hotel, then, until this mess was over or Prince’s cannons loosed damnation on the walls.

  I sighed as I felt my pockets grow lighter yet again.

  But I was in no hurry. I gave the cabbie Mary’s address, and on a whim included Lethway’s office building, and told him to take the most circuitous route he could imagine.

  He did a good job of it. I watched the windows and the darkened, empty streets. If anyone was following us, they were doing it on foot, and if they were following us on foot they were quite the runner, because we kept a breakneck pace the whole way.

  Of course, a couple of halfdead could pace us without breathing hard, but it doesn’t pay to entertain such pessimism when there’s not a damned thing you can do about it.

  We passed by Lethway’s dark office building just as the Big Bell pounded out Curfew. At first glance, it appeared to be deserted, shut up for the night, but then I saw a bit of light under the blinds, and I realized the windows were shuttered and closed—not truly dark.

  And then there were the three carriages parked out front. Their teams were steaming with fresh sweat in the glow of the street lamp. So there were people inside, doing whatever it is mining outfits do in the wee hours when the rest of Rannit sleeps.

  From there we made for Mary’s neighborhood, finally reaching it an hour later. I liked the street immediately, even in the dark. There was a cheerful, wholesome quality to it, even though the homes were small and could have used a bit of paint and some new shingles here and there.

  Mary’s house showed light in all the windows. I had the driver take us by slowly while I opened the window and listened.

  I heard a snatch of laughter that was not Darla, but was female and untroubled. I was about to tell the driver to head out when the unmistakable yapping of Mr. Tibbles sounded from within Mary’s house.

  I called us to a halt. The yapping of a tiny dog rang out loud and clear.

  And if Mr. Tibbles was yapping away in Mary’s house, then Tamar wasn’t far away.

  I cussed and told the driver to wait and did my best to hide Toadsticker under my coat as I made for Mary’s door.

  Her porch light flared as I cleared the last five porch steps. Darla met me at her door. From the laughing and talking in the background, I didn’t think anyone but Darla even knew they had a visitor.

  She lifted a finger to her lips,

  “I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you,” she said. “Tamar is here.”

  “I heard Mr. Tibbles.” I forced away my scowl. It wasn’t Darla I was angry with. “Half of Rannit can hear Mr. Tibbles. Why isn’t she hiding?”

  Darla grabbed my arm and hauled me inside. A kiss may have taken place. There were no witnesses to the event.

  “She got spooked, hon. She swore somebody was watching her. So she sneaked out and went to my house.”

  “But you weren’t there.”

  “No. But she knew I’d only be one of two other places.”

  “So she spent the evening gallivanting around Rannit. Carrying a tiny barking dog, just to make sure everyone everywhere noticed her. Brilliant. Wonderful.”

  Darla hugged me tight.

  “I know. But she was afraid. She’s here and she’s safe.”

  “Nobody here is safe as long as she’s here.” I managed to peek out the door. The street was still empty and quiet. “This isn’t good, Darla. It isn’t good at all.”

  Tamar and Mary came rushing into the room. At the sight of me, Mary squealed and charged back the other way, and Tamar and Darla laughed.

  “You’ve seen her in her nightgown,” said Tamar. Mr. Tibbles yapped at me from the crook of her elbow. “Good thing Darla is here, or you’d have to marry her, you know.”

  “Miss Fields.” I took off my hat and hung it on a hook by the door. “It’s a good thing Darla is here for you, too, or I’d be forced to raise my voice. What made you think charging around town after dark was a good idea?”

  She didn’t flinch. “I was being watched, Mr. Markhat. I’m sure of it. So I wrapped Mr. Tibbles in a towel and I stole a maid’s wrap and I sneaked down to the kitchen and then I walked out with a bag of trash, and I’m not sorry.”

  Mr. Tibbles indicated his agreement by baring his teeth and growling.

  I sighed and pulled one of Mary’s kitchen chairs around and sat on it.

  “Tell me why you think you were being watched.”

  “I peeped through the curtains sometimes. The same man was on the same corner all afternoon. He didn’t even move to the shade when the sun got hot. I know all of Daddy’s men, Mr. Markhat, and the man I saw wasn’t one of them. I left everything in my room. If they go in they might think I’m still somewhere in the hotel. Was that a smart thing to do, Mr. Markhat?”

  I nodded. It was, actually. People seldom just walk away from their things, even when clinging to them puts them in peril.

  “Still. You took an awful risk. Why didn’t you go home?”

  “Because Father would have just sent me back there, Mr. Markhat. Or to another hotel. I’m tired of hiding. My wedding is just days away. Now then. Have you found Carris yet?”

  Darla hid a grin.

  “I’m close,” I said. “After tomorrow night, I hope to know who has him, or at least know more about them.”

  Tamar nodded but did not smile.

  “The caterers have been paid in full,” she said. “They need to know when to start icing the cake.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Darla shot me a look. “But you can’t stay here that long.”

  “Mary said I could stay as long as I want.”

  “Tamar, dear,” purred Darla. “He’s gruff, but he knows his business. I’m sure Markhat knows a better hiding place.”

  “I do indeed. But moving her tonight isn’t the best way to handle things. We need crowds to hide in. Too, my Avalante carriage isn’t exactly inconspicuous.”

  Tamar beamed and scratched Mr. Tibbles behind his scruffy little ears. “Did you hear that, Mr. Tibbles? We’re spending the night with Mary.”

  “Are all the doors locked?”

  Darla nodded. “Doors and windows.”

  “Good.” I rose. “Lock this one after me.”

  She frowned. “You’re leaving?”

  “Only to send my driver home. I’ll be right back. Does Mary have a fireplace?”

  “Of course. Why?”

  “Then she has a fireplace poker. Keep it handy.” I kissed her on the nose and peeked through the door glass and then opened it quickly and waited there until I heard the locks click.

  I asked my driver to ride around Rannit for a couple of hours before heading home. If anyone was keeping an eye out for finders in borrowed black carriages, that ought to prove amusing.

  Then I headed back to Mary’s cheery little bungalow, my hand on Toadsticker’s hilt. I got indoors without incident, and I placed a straight-backed wooden chair across from the front door and angled it so I could see the room behind me.

  Mary has a fancy brass clock on the mantel above her fireplace. It ticked and tocked the whole night long, while I watched windows and doors and fought off sleep by holding Toadsticker out level with my chest and balancing a glass on his blade whenever I felt the urge to doze.

  Darla hadn’t asked where I intended to take Tamar. I still wasn’t sure. A hotel downtown, under an assumed name, I decided. With Mills idling in the lobby and keeping an eye on the stairs. I could hit up Fields for reimbursement later, and it was only then that I realized I no longer trusted the baker enough to tell him where I was hiding his daughter.

  The brass clock struck out the third small hour when Darla emerged, wrapped in a blanket, sleep in her eyes. She curled up on the floor next to me and wordlessly went to sleep, her hand in mine.

  Darla is beautiful, by the way. Far too beautiful to be walking out with a rogue such as I. But here she was, at my side.

  Evis’s admonition to keep Toadsticker handy ran hobnailed through my mind. Hell, I was putting her at risk eve
ry day. If halfdead weren’t out there lurking, the kidnappers might be.

  All because of me.

  She opened her eyes for a moment and looked up at me and smiled and then fell fast asleep. In that brief moment, it appeared as if she was about to speak.

  I listened to the wind outside, and I wondered until sunrise just what it was she might have said.

  Mary appeared, clad in a high-necked dressing gown that concealed her so completely I would have been hard-pressed to identify her species, much less her gender. She shooed me into a corner and set about bringing her kitchen to life.

  Bacon fried. Biscuits baked. Eggs scrambled. Toast toasted. Coffee perked, making wet sputtering noises that roused the rest of the ladies.

  I was elected to take Mr. Tibbles for his morning constitutional. He appeared to be no more thrilled with the task than I, but apart from pulling at his leash and trying to hike his leg on my right boot, he behaved well enough.

  I never left Mary’s yard. I did scandalize the neighborhood by waving to her sleepy-eyed neighbors and introducing myself as her beau until Darla dragged me back inside.

  Tamar and Mary were already seated and dining. Two plates waited for Darla and I.

  “Good morning, Mr. Markhat. Did Mr. Tibbles behave himself?”

  “He was a model of decorum, Miss.”

  “Are you still angry with me for leaving the hotel?”

  “Furious, Miss. But I believe in letting bygones be bygones.” I munched on some sausage and swallowed. “You know you can’t stay here, though.”

  “She can stay as long as she kens ta,” said Mary. “’Tis my house, and my say.”

  “But she kens to go with me,” I replied. “Because if she doesn’t, I’ll do one of two things. One, I’ll just head downtown and tell her father where she is, and he’ll be along to fetch her and none too happy about it. Or two, I’ll put her over my shoulder and carry her out.”

  Mary laughed. “Aye, I reckon ye would at that.” She topped off my coffee cup with a bitter black brew as strong as anything I ever drank in the army.

  “Mr. Tibbles wouldn’t like that,” said Tamar. “Neither would I. But would you really? Men are always saying things they really don’t mean, just because everyone thinks they do.”