This Deadly Engine Page 20

  The thought of Pienne being related to the monsters made my head ache a bit. Such different temperaments ran through each. Such different desires motivated them.

  Mister Important said, “So tell us, yes?”

  I regarded the creatures around me. Every one of them had fallen victim to Schaever’s madness. He took in the helpless and hopeless and turned them into horrors beyond their imagination. Success depended on them. They, more than anyone else, wanted to see Schaever destroyed. And so I asked, “Are you prepared to fight? Are you willing to make any sacrifice necessary?”

  The spider lady laughed. “Look at us!” She motioned to the others. “What do we, of all people, have to lose? Where can we go? What can we do? Open our own carnival of freaks? Let people pay to stare at us in the same manner that Duke Schaever did?” She snarled. “If we die, but take the Duke with us, then so be it. This world owes us nothing except retribution from him.”

  Ravenlea spoke for the first time. Her soft voice carried a tone as if she expected complete attention and obedience. “We will destroy Duke Schaever. Tell us what you need.”

  I said, “The first thing is someone who knows about magical items, who can identify them and tell me what they do. I need someone who can help outfit this army with the power to destroy our enemies.”

  Cavendish took Ravenlea’s hand. While she did not pull away, she shifted to put a bit of extra space between them. He said, “The two of us can help.”

  I turned to The Misters. “You want to know the plan? Here it is – we are going to arm ourselves with magic. We are going to destroy Schaever’s allies, then destroy the man himself.” I paused. “So tell me why you are sending me to Pienne. Why not tell me where to go, or show me yourselves?”

  The Misters glanced at each another. Mister Important said, “We cannot risk being seen, yes? And our brother surely changed the locks as soon as we went missing, so we cannot let you inside.”

  Their cleverness meant they took no unnecessary risks, which served as a reminder not to let my guard down around them.

  Cavendish said, “The wedding is tomorrow night. That leaves us with little time to prepare.”

  The dwarf said, “Find what you need. We will make sure everyone here is ready.” He faced The Misters. “Including the both of you.”

  The twins looked at the dwarf with contempt. Yet neither responded.

  I said, “We need to confirm the location of a new portal. We believe it is in the City of the Future. That is also the place we will start in our war against Schaever.” I also faced The Misters. “Do you have the resources to find the exact location of the portal?”

  “Hmmm, but he needs us again. And the favor will require a price this ti—”

  The dwarf poked them with his gun. “Shut it!” He glanced at me. “Yes, we will verify the location. Now go before these two irritate me to the point that I do something they regret.”

  Cavendish pulled on my leg. “Let’s go.”

  Indeed. I wanted to put distance between myself and The Misters. Based on the gnome’s eagerness, he did as well.

  A time of reckoning with The Misters would arrive soon enough.

  Chapter 11

  Patrons seeking an early evening meal filled the Eight Bells. The smell of ale and lamb and fish and chips floated out of the door and into the busy lane. The thought of enjoying warm, fresh food made my belly rumble. The urgency of my mission, however, did not allow me the luxury of savoring the taste of delicious fare.

  Most of the humans within the main room stared at me. The looks on a few spoke of hatred and distrust. No one welcomed me at the establishment. Tolerance between them and the magical creatures only went so far, especially given past history of such incidences as the elves siring an untold number of babies and the volume of cats who disappeared from many homes. Branagh’s remained the only place where all races mingled with the certainty of not being asked, or forced, to leave.

  Still, social etiquette dictated that the patrons not confront me outright. They saved such unpleasantness for the server who might or might not come.

  I approached the proprietor of the establishment who worked at the bar. He wore a black coat, black trousers, a white shirt, and a nicely pressed white apron. I said, “I am looking for a short, squatty man who resides here. Fat cheeks, round belly, has a nasally laugh.” I pointed to the stairs. “Goes by the name of Steven.” Before I had left The Misters they informed me that Pienne used an alias…their father’s name. “Lives on the first floor.”

  The man behind the bar said, “If he did live here, he left no word as to whether or not he expected a,” he cleared his throat, “a…ummm…gentleman such as yourself.” He wiped a mug with a cloth and refused to look me in the eye. “And maybe you have the wrong place. Why don’t you try The George?”

  Cavendish and I had discussed how best to draw Pienne out should the owner prove uncooperative. Though I did not care for the idea of announcing my name since I remained a wanted criminal, we decided it provided the most incentive to get the man’s assistance.

  I said, with as much calmness as I could muster, “Please send word that Ash is looking for him. Our masters sent him.” I leaned forward and whispered. “That would be Alexander Asherton.”

  The man’s ears shifted just a little, and his brow narrowed just the slightest. In his position within society, he maintained an awareness of the latest news, especially concerning fugitives. In fact, his eyes spoke of the thoughts running through his mind…of how he could spend the reward for my capture in a dozen different ways.

  To complete the avarice filling him, I said, “Tell him Asherton will meet him in the back garden in fifteen minutes.” I had to allow him enough time to alert the Guardsmen and have them in place. Otherwise, he would continue to deny that Pienne resided there. “And please have a plate of food ready. Asherton has been on the run for so long, he is half-starved and weak.”

  The man said nothing as I departed. Once outside, I went through the garden gate. Beyond, a dozen tables offered the fortunate ones the opportunity to dine in the open air. A row of topiaries lined the sides on the left and the right. A hedgerow stood along the back on top of a raised wall. Round flowerpots stood between the tables and helped to give the space a more intimate and natural ambiance.

  Like the tables inside, not a one sat empty. With nowhere else to go, I stood behind the topiaries on the left. The vantage point allowed me to remain out of sight of most of the patrons, but within sight of the back door.

  Nothing unusual happened for the first five minutes, other than servers hurrying in and out to take care of those eating. Then over the next five minutes, two plain-clothed Guardsmen commandeered a table from a couple who appeared frightened at what they were told. The proprietor tried to settle them with an apology. He assured them that he valued their patronage and presented them with a card for a complimentary meal.

  “Why did you do that?” Perrin asked, then added a laugh. “You hid your supervisor’s ledger? On Christmas Eve?”

  “What…”

  The cyclops sighed. “You were twelve. Remember?”

  Once he stirred up the memory, I did recall taking the ledger from the supervisor’s office. I hid it behind a stack of crates. The man transformed into a torrent of rage when he could not find it.

  I said, “We deserved Christmas morning off. Promising to return the ledger was the only way to make him agree to give it to us.”

  The cyclops grunted. “You paid dearly, though.”

  “Stop digging through those days. Focus on what we are doing here and now.”

  “You did what those others would never have done, and not a one said thank you. I might like you after all, Alexander Asherton. I can appreciate your many sacrifices.”

  A pair of uniformed Guardsmen caught my eye as they walked through the entrance I had used. They took their places behind the hedgerow.

  The proprietor requested another couple leave, offering them a free meal insid
e. Once they obliged, he wiped the table clean and had a plate brought out, as well as two mugs.

  Pienne emerged a couple of minutes before the designated time. The man wobbled to the table. He took his place, looked at the plate of food, glanced about, then picked out several chips. His feet fidgeted, he couldn’t quite get comfortable, and he barely chewed his food.

  The contrast between him and The Misters in terms of personality begged the question of their kinship. The sharp chin and the broad forehead, however, spoke of a definite familial resemblance. And the fact that they were brothers made a strange sort of sense. Between their mum and father, who had the maniacal personality and who had the timid one?

  The Guardsmen at the table glanced around as time passed without my appearance. They talked in hushed tones.

  I could not help but grin. A bit of the old bravado broke through for the first time in many weeks. The prospect of stealing something from in front of a Schaever minion and making good an escape stirred a sense of mischievousness that I had not enjoyed in even longer.

  You have done this many times, Ash. This is far easier than the missions The Misters sent you on. Your disguise is so much better.

  Pienne snatched a few more chips from the plate of food. The Bells’ proprietor hurried out and pretended to take the order of the Guardsmen at the table. All three glanced around suspiciously.

  I took a deep breath, then proceeded from my vantage point.

  Every pair of eyes turned to me. They followed, wondering about my business, and what I might do. I strode to Pienne, who looked at me and quickly ate several more chips.

  I whispered, “We must talk. Your brothers sent me.”

  The news of The Misters made him jump in surprise. His brow wiggled up and down in uncertainty. He said nothing as he took the opportunity to drink.

  “I need help. I need you to take me to where you store your magic items, the ones collected by your brothers.”

  “You should sit,” an elf said from behind, making a tingle of surprise run up my back and settle at the base of my neck. The Treyo Duthku eased onto a chair as she motioned for me to do the same.

  The sight of an elf and a cyclops together proved too much for the sensibilities of those at the two closest tables. They abruptly excused themselves. The owner tried to intercept them, but they ignored his pleas to remain.

  As I took my own seat, the elf said, “You failed to meet me at Branagh’s Tavern to turn over the Heart.” She interlaced her fingers. “Given the reports of destruction from the Exposition, I assume you succeeded in taking it.” She leaned forward to study me closer. After a moment, her eyes narrowed, and anger filled her voice. “You used the Gray Heart! But how—”

  “Are we alive?” I leaned on the table to mimic her. “Only because your world is in danger. It is about to be destroyed. And if you value your home, then you will not interfere with what we are doing.”

  Perrin said, “We should ask her to join us.”

  I did so, and the elf replied, “You will give me the item now. If my world is in such dire straits, then the Gray Heart should be given to someone who can best use it.” She held out her hand. “The item if you please?”

  “Do not listen to her,” Ravenlea said as she joined us, along with Cavendish.

  The elf snarled at the gnome. “This is not your concern. You are nothing to me or to my mistress.”

  Ravenlea’s brow darkened. “Everything about the Gray Heart is my concern. Where it goes, I go.” She stepped towards the elf. “And where it goes is back to my Family.”

  The Treyo Duthku waved the gnome away. “You know nothing about what is happening. This goes far beyond the concerns of the likes of you. Or of your Family.”

  The remaining patrons refused to dine in the presence of the gnomes in addition to the rest of us. They voiced their complaints to the owner on their way out. Only the Guardsmen stayed. Even they glanced at each other nervously.

  The elf held her hand out again. “Give me the Gray Heart, or I assure you each person here will suffer.”

  Ravenlea climbed onto the table. “We are saving our world. We are taking the Heart to our Mother. If you refuse to help us, then get out of our way. This is your only warning.”

  Cavendish stood beside her. “Do not try your magic on us. That would go badly for you.”

  The elf gave an exasperated sigh as she motioned to Pienne. “Have I not given you everything you wished? Is our mistress not benevolent?” She motioned to the rest of us. “And you see how some repay such generosity? With defiance?”

  Ravenlea took a step towards the elf. “Your people stole the Heart from us. Your mistress sent it into this world. For all I know, she ordered you to bring it here. And you have kept track of it since that time.”

  The elf said, “Pienne, you will administer the appropriate elixirs.”

  The man looked between the elf and me. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

  I said, “Pienne, the other world is about to be destroyed. When that happens, what do you think the consequences will be? Especially where the magic is concerned?”

  The man’s chin quivered, and sweat rolled down his round cheeks. He whispered, “If the magical world is destroyed, then how will Pienne continue to work with his magic? All of Pienne’s efforts would be for naught.”

  The elf sat straight. “They are exaggerating what will happen. We are trying to defeat the orcs so that everyone can enjoy order and peace.” She looked at Ravenlea through half-closed lids. “And these hairy little monsters, though some appear less hairy these days, will say anything to get their precious Gray Heart back.”

  Cavendish held Ravenlea back when she lunged for the elf.

  I looked at Pienne. “The Reganases are integral to the survival of the magical realm. When the last one is destroyed then their world will break apart. We can only assume that the source of the magic will be destroyed as well.”

  The elf waved her hand in dismissal. “Nonsense.”

  I smacked the table, making the plate jump. “I have seen it.”

  “A vision the gnomes wanted you to see. They will do anything to possess the Gray Heart.”

  Ravenlea said, “And when you accuse my Family as such, you describe yourself.”

  Pienne looked at each of us as he dabbed at his forehead with a lace cloth. “Can Alexander truly help? Can he truly save the magic?”

  I motioned to myself. “I am here. I am doing what I can, and I am asking for help. Frengarn must be stopped. We must deal with Schaever. You have what we need to succeed. Will we? Can we?” I took a deep breath. “I will be honest with you, Pienne. I don’t know. Yet I do know what will happen if we do nothing.”

  The elf stood. “This is not a negotiation. You will give me the item.”

  Ravenlea and Cavendish moved to the edge of the table together, between the elf and me. The former said, “If you harm any of us, it will be the last thing you do. I know not what you scheme, but it will not involve us.”

  The elf laughed her twilly laugh. “You believe you can stop me? Who do you think led Schaever’s men to you?”

  I asked, “What do you mean?”

  She raised her brow at my challenging tone. “The little gnome lady is correct in accusing me of knowing the Gray Heart’s whereabouts. I tracked its location at all times. Only I knew where to find it.” She smiled at Ravenlea. “And when this little monster got too close, I made sure that Schaever captured her.”

  This time Cavendish lunged for the elf, but I caught him. Despite the fact that I wanted to choke her, too, we needed to know more. “Why have you not taken it back before now?”

  She shrugged to dismiss our growing anger. “Because my mistress had not yet determined the best time. And we dared not let others take it before it we could put it to good use. If the gnomes believe it truly belongs to them, then why did they allow it to be taken?” She folded her arms. “Because they are a weak people who deserved subjugation by their superiors.”

  M
adness. It waited at every turn. Could I ever escape it?

  No wonder the gnomes in the Heart refused to consider allowing me to give the stone to the Elders.

  Perrin said, “We could show them the true power of the gnomes.”

  She deserved to learn fury of the Heart’s magic. Yet giving in meant losing my life…and that would be madness of my own creation.

  And speaking of further madness, the Guardsmen contained themselves no longer. They surrounded us, and one said, “That’s enough of this little gathering. Why don’t you take your discussion to a more proper location? This here is not a place for your kind.”

  The proprietor watched from the rear entrance. He wrung his towel over and over.

  The Treyo Duthku said, “This is not your concern. We are having a peaceful gathering.”

  A blue aura appeared around her as if she summoned magic.

  Could I still see it? Did the Heart keep me connected?

  Before she struck, I took Pienne by the arm. “Show me where you keep everything.”

  “We are not done,” the elf said. She lifted the Guardsmen with the magic until their feet dangled in the air.

  Seeing the elf’s display of power unleashed Ravenlea’s anger. When she leapt from the table, she did so with a yell of fury that spoke of a buildup of rage over many years. She grabbed the elf, who released the Guardsmen to deal with the more imminent threat. Elf and gnome tumbled to the ground.

  Cavendish joined his lady.

  I snatched one of the Guardsmen’s swords. “If you know what is best, then you will leave.” When their leader lunged, I struck him on the back of the head with the hilt. He sprawled on the ground and did not move. “Anyone else care to disagree?”

  The others backed away. One of them said, “You merely delay the inevitable. Others will arrive soon.”

  I took a threatening step towards them. The act made them back away faster.

  Cavendish flew across the garden. Ravenlea, though, straddled the Treyo Duthku’s neck and held a dagger against her throat. She spoke through a snarl. “Surrender or I will kill you.”