The Clockwork Wolf

by Lynn Viehl

  The cream of Rumsen society also had no reason to know of my existence save one: my visit to Lady Bestly’s home.

  It would have only taken them a day to find out who I was and seize the opportunity to confirm the gossip doubtless spreading like wildfire among their servants. They couldn’t ask Lady Bestly about the matter directly; that was bad ton. I, on the other, had no social standing, so they could interrogate me unmercifully the moment I stepped in the drawing room.

  This put me in something of a pickle. I couldn’t toss the invitations into the fire or pretend I’d never received them, but I couldn’t respond to them, either. No one said no to these women; any refusal on my part would be considered a personal insult. Still, no one but Docket, Gert, and Dredmore knew I’d come to the office this morning; that would buy a little time.

  I put on Hedger’s red cloak and pulled the hood over my head before I departed. I took care to keep my face averted whenever I passed one of the other tenants, and while a few of them sniffed and muttered rude things about bathing and laundry, no one spoke to me. The lady dispeller on the fourth floor could hardly afford to wear silk velvet.

  Outside Connell sat waiting for me in a hired carri, and for once clambered down to help me inside.

  “You’re looking very pale, miss.”

  He’d never before spoken to me, so I could be excused my moment of shock. “I’m all right.” Then, because I couldn’t help myself, I said, “I didn’t know you could talk, Mr. Connell.”

  “His lordship don’t like chatter.” He tipped his hat and climbed up behind the wheel.

  Small wonder Dredmore expected me to follow his orders without a quibble. Even Connell, another of his trusted servants, was expected to go about his duties with silent, absolute obedience.

  As he started the engine, I leaned forward to ask, “Don’t you ever get tired of him ordering you about, Mr. Connell?”

  “Lord Dredmore pays me to do what he says, miss.” He gave me a sideways glance. “I’m to take you to your house and keep you there. He said to tie you up if need be.”

  “No need to resort to ropes.” When this was over, I decided, Dredmore and I were going to have a very long talk about who was actually in charge of my life. “Do drive on, Mr. Connell.”

  Connell drove the carri as fast and skillfully as Dredmore’s coach and four, and in a few minutes we reached my goldstone. Once he helped me down he insisted on going into the house first—also on his master’s orders—and checked the premises as thoroughly as Dredmore had my office. He politely refused my offer of tea, bolted the back entry, and took position at the front.

  I retreated to my bathing room, where I stripped out of my sewer-fragrant gown and ran a hot tub, adding a liberal amount of rose-scented soap flakes to the water. I had to stand on my footstool and hold a hand mirror to remove the bandages taped to my back, but my awkward inspection confirmed that the last of my wounds had closed over and most were healed, leaving only a few pinkish-white scars. In another day or two those would also disappear; thanks to Harry’s blood I never scarred permanently.

  I climbed down from the stool and put away the hand mirror, frowning at my reflection as I remembered the Wolfman’s body in the morgue. No surgical scars, Dez had said. Yet the only logical way the mech might have been installed in the man’s body would have required it to be cut open.

  The men had not been immortal or possessed, but could they have been spirit-born, like me and Dredmore? Able to heal without scars?

  I tested the water in my old clearstone tub before I stepped in and carefully sank down beneath the pink bubbles, groaning a little as the heat spread over me. Every muscle in my body felt stretched and sore, as if I were some animech that had been wound up too tight. I folded and tucked a washing cloth under my neck and closed my eyes.

  “Jolly fine time for you to be taking a nap,” Harry said somewhere behind me. “The city is in imminent peril. We’ve crazed monsters running about the streets attacking the helpless. Not to mention you could nod off and drown.”

  I opened one eye. “Harry, I didn’t summon you. I am naked, in my bath, and you’re my grandfather.” I closed my eye. “Go away.”

  “Don’t be disgusting,” he snapped. “I went to hospital to check on you, and you were gone, so I came here and waited. Once the sun came up I was trapped. Where have you been? Your gown smells like the sewers.”

  I was going to drown myself in my tub. “Never mind where I was, what have you learned? Do you know who is creating the Wolfmen?”

  “I know what he is, but not who.” He made a frustrated sound. “The Aramanthan who populate the Netherside are not very keen on mortals or me. Since I led the mortals who defeated them, I suppose it can’t be helped.”

  I reached for my soap cake. “We already know the master of the Wolfmen is Aramanthan. What else is there?”

  “This one is said to be earthbound, and has been since the immortal wars ended,” Harry said. “Possessing one mortal body after another would have granted him the means and time to acquire whatever he needed to build his power and develop his magic. After so many centuries he may be unstoppable.”

  “That was what they said about Zarath,” I reminded him, “and I not only stopped him, I made sure he’ll never possess another mortal body again.”

  “If you’re thinking of using your da’s pocket watch again, forget it,” Harry said. “You were lucky to live through your first trip through time. When you did, you created unnatural forces that still resonate inside you. Another such journey will add more, much more than you can contain in your mortal form. You can’t risk another go.”

  Although Harry had often lied to me in the past, this time I sensed he was being completely honest. “Very well, no time travel. How then are we to defeat him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re Merlin. You’ve forgotten more magic than anyone knows.” The way he was avoiding my gaze made me suspicious—what could this beast-maker immortal do that would give Harry pause? Then suddenly I understood. “I see. He’s like you, isn’t he?”

  He made a blustering sound. “No one is like me. I am the only one of my kind to have bothered to protect humanity. I even saved your world a time or two.”

  “I meant, he is as powerful as you.” I waited for him to reply, and when he didn’t I sat up, sloshing bubbles and water over the tub’s rim. “I have to wash my hair and rinse off. Go out in the sitting room and wait for me there.”

  “It’s daylight, and I can’t go anywhere,” he grumbled as he floated through the wall and disappeared.

  I scrubbed my hair and scalp until all I could smell were roses, and then emptied the tub before filling my rinse bucket with cold water and pouring it over my head and body. I hated cold rinses, and shivered as I dried off and wrapped up my hair, but it woke me up and sharpened my thinking. Harry was right, this was no time to nap.

  I pulled on my dressing gown and walked out to the sitting room. “You have to know some way of—” I stopped at the sight of Lady Bestly warming her hands over my stove. “Milady.” I looked about but saw no visible sign of Harry, and then remembered only I or another spirit-born could see him. “I’m sorry to present myself in such a state. I wasn’t expecting anyone to call.”

  “I would have sent a servant to warn you, but I have only Hartley now and she cannot drive.” Lady Bestly took in the room. “This is a very pleasant home. You must bake bread quite often.”

  “I don’t bake at all. The building was used as a granary before I bought it, and the scent of the wheat they stored here has never entirely disappeared.” I gestured to the nicest chair I owned. “Do sit down. I’ll just go and change—”

  “Please don’t trouble yourself on my account. I have intruded on your privacy, and . . .” She pressed her gloved fingers to her lips and swallowed. “Forgive me, but might I impose on you to use your lavatory?”

  I saw the beads of perspiration pop out on her brow and gestured quickly. “It’s r
ight through here, milady.”

  I showed her to the loo, and then stood outside and listened for a moment to the coughing and retching sounds she made before I returned to the sitting room. A few minutes later she rejoined me, apologizing again as she sat down and clasped her hands so tightly I thought the stitching in her gloves would pop.

  “Annie told me that you have been seeing a physick in town,” I said carefully. “You do look very ill. Might I summon a carri to take you to his office?”

  “He can do nothing for me, Kittredge.” She blotted her mouth with a lace-edged kerchief. “What I suffer is a natural condition, and in time, it will pass. One way or another.” She saw my expression and crumpled the lacy linen in her fist. “As you have already guessed.”

  I nodded. “When do you expect your confinement?”

  “Sometime in the fall, if I live that long.” She regarded me steadily. “At my age there is no guarantee of that, of course. I barely survived the conception.”

  That was why she had waited a week before sending for me, why she had worn such heavy face paint, and walked like such an old woman. “Your husband attacked you.”

  “That thing was not my husband,” she snapped. “But yes, yes it did. It came into my bedchamber, pinned me down, and had its way with me. It pummeled me and clawed me, and then it ran off into the night like the beast it was, attacking and murdering every poor soul in its path.”

  Now I felt sick. “I’m so sorry, milady. Truly.”

  “Terrance and I tried to have a family all the years of our marriage, but we could not. As much as I loathe the creature he became, he gave me a child.” She ducked her head. “If it is in fact a child. I hardly know what to think, given what its father became.”

  “Magic made your husband into that beast, milady,” I told her. “I believe Lord Bestly was deceived by a powerful mage, who for his own evil purposes forced the unnatural transformation on his lordship.”

  I expected my theory to shock and horrify Lady Bestly, and imagined she would have to use my loo again straightaway. Yet after a moment of visible confusion she only shook her head. “That could not be done to Terrance. He distrusted and despised magic and anyone who practiced it. He would not tolerate a mage in his presence. Indeed, the few times that Lord Dredmore called on me, my husband became so agitated he left the house.”

  And with that she threw my theory into the gutter—unless Lord Bestly had worried that a mage might expose him. “You are certain his prejudice was genuine?”

  “Absolutely. In his youth Terrance was swindled by a mage who convinced him that unclean spirits haunted several of my husband’s properties,” she said. “The mage persuaded Terrance to sell him the properties for a pittance, as he claimed he could only use his power to force out the ghosts if the properties belonged to him. Once they were gone, he promised on his honor to sell them back to Terrance at the same price.”

  His greed must have overcome his common sense. “None of this was put in writing, I suppose.”

  “As I said, my husband was young and unfortunately, very trusting. The mage immediately sold all the properties for an enormous profit, took the money, and vanished. My husband was almost ruined, and worse, made a laughingstock.” She touched the wedding ring she still wore. “I think he would have done harm to himself if we had not met.”

  Or if your dowry had not been so large, I thought with a tinge of cynicism. “The mage who did this to your husband may not have presented himself as a practitioner of magic. He probably would have gained his trust by posing as a gentleman or some other sort of intimate acquaintance. Before he died, did Lord Bestly mention to you any new particular friends?”

  “He did not discuss such matters with me.”

  “I see.” No, I didn’t. New acquaintances were discussed endlessly on the Hill; it was how they assured no unworthy soul penetrated the iron ranks of their society—and their vetting process began at home.

  “You have an unsavory interest in my private affairs,” Lady Bestly snapped suddenly, as if I’d somehow insulted her. Before I could apologize her shoulders sagged. “No, I do not mean to say that. You have been remarkably tolerant, while I . . . I have acted disgracefully.”

  “Milady, what happened in the past is done.”

  “I do not refer to the past, Kittredge.” She gave me a direct look. “I have lied to you more than once about my communications with my husband. He did not discuss his new friends with me because he barely spoke two words to me. Just before he died I discovered he was no longer spending his nights at home, and had not been for months. I checked his bank account books, and found he had regularly withdrawn large sums of money this past year as well.”

  I nearly groaned out loud; why had she concealed all this from me? “Did you confront him about it?”

  “I already knew what it was,” she said. “He was living at his club and spending inordinate amounts of money, probably on a younger woman. Even if he hadn’t died, Terrance would have left me anyway.”

  “Or he was being swindled by another mage,” I suggested. “One who was far more clever than the first. Under such influence, your husband might not have even known what he was doing.”

  A glimmer of determination appeared in her eyes. “You must find out the truth of it, Kittredge. For my sake as well as my child’s. We have no hope of a future without it.”

  I promised Lady Bestly I would call on her as soon as I had something new to report, and asked Connell to summon a carri-cab to take her back to the Hill. As I watched Dredmore’s man escort her out to the curb, the glare of the sun made me squint at the horizon. In a handful of hours twilight would fall, and the Aramanthan would again be able to roam about freely and use his powers. Sooner than that Dredmore would arrive, and I was still traipsing about in my dressing gown.

  I’d never felt more useless as I turned to go to my dressing room. Being female was bad enough, but now I was a female in danger. Dredmore would lock me up and toss away the key, unless . . .

  “I have a message for his lordship,” I said, testing the words. “An urgent message for his lordship.”

  I walked past Harry as he was rematerializing, stopped, and turned. “Do you have any useful magic during the daylight?”

  “I can sit and listen to you natter on with that evil-minded harpy like she’s as dear to you as your own mother.” He folded his semitransparent arms. “If you weren’t my own blood I’d believe you’d been spelled.”

  “You knew I was working for Lady Bestly before today.” I went into my dressing room to find the appropriate costume.

  “Aye, I knew the name, not the face that went with it,” he called after me. “I watched everything she did to you eight years ago. I know exactly who she is.”

  “Who she was,” I corrected as I took out a somewhat shabby suit and cap from the back of my armoire. “Now she’s a pregnant widow fighting for her child and her life. That’s who I’m working for.” As Harry muttered something vile I added, “Besides eavesdropping on extremely private conversations that are none of your business, what more can you do?”

  “I can leave.”

  “Wait, don’t do that.” I dressed as fast as I could and came out. “Harry, I need to get into— Ah, sorry.” I backed a few steps away from Connell. “I like to talk to myself when I’m alone. Silly habit, really.”

  “It’s me,” Connell said in Harry’s voice as he inspected himself. “You’d never know it to look at him, but he’s fast as a snake and strong as an ox. In this body I could run round the city a few times before sunset.”

  It took all my self-control not to slug him. “Harry, get out of that man. Right this minute. Harry.”

  “Stop being so bloody dramatic. You know I won’t keep him.” He moved his head from side to side. “As if I’d spend the next fifty years serving the devil himself.” He regarded me. “You wanted to get past him. It’s this or cosh him over the head, and with this lad’s training, you’d never get close enough to take the fir
st swing.”

  I could have argued the point, but Harry usually kept his promises to me, and Connell would have no memory of being overtaken by my grandfather’s spirit. “You will not let anything happen to Mr. Connell. If he winds up with so much as a bruise on his knuckles, our partnership is dissolved for good.”

  “No scratching the carri, got it.” He gave me a cheeky grin that looked ridiculous on Connell’s face. “So where to, miss?”

  I jammed the messenger’s cap over my damp curls. “The White Lupine.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Of course Harry didn’t drive anything but horses, so I had to take the wheel of the hired carri. Fortunately in my messenger’s garb I didn’t attract the notice I certainly would have dressed as a female. Under city regulations, an unmarried woman could not apply for a driving permit, and a married woman could have one only if her husband signed his consent. Few were issued, as it was a common misconception among the men of the city that females were incapable of adequately operating mechanized transport.

  Due to various emergency circumstances I’d risked driving a carri a few times—generally borrowing Bridget’s carri when I did so I could produce her permit if stopped—but any beater who spied a young lass like me perambulating round town would give chase until they could jump on the back and order me to the curb—and the very last thing I needed now was to be arrested.

  Naturally Harry made himself helpful by sitting beside me on the driver’s bench and criticizing every turn I made. “You’re cutting the corners too close. Look out for that chap there with the barrow. Slow down before you lose control of this bloody contraption.”

  “I know you’ll survive being thrown under the wheels, Grandfather,” I said through my teeth. “But I’ll enjoy squishing you anyway.”

  Harry made a rude sound. “And I thought you liked this Connell lad.”