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The Chimney: The Merc Papers

Page 20

by G. T. Spoor


  “Kivras, Therm, and Tulurum were working on a project together,” he explained. “A new method for mining crystal.”

  “Was it dangerous?” Emily asked.

  Maybe it was all an accident after all.

  “I do not believe so,” Coaltank said. “Although Flintmace came to me last week with an update, he seemed nervous about something, yet he wouldn’t say what. ’Tis a shame. What they were on the verge of discovering was promising. If true, it could have doubled, if not tripled, the output of mana crystals while minimizing the risk to the goblin miners.”

  “Then why would they be targeted?” Berk asked. “If what you say is true, this could benefit the entire city.”

  “What benefits some, does not benefit all,” the dower replied.

  “Somebody obviously doesn’t want the dower to succeed,” Emily added.

  The dower looked at her sideways. “So, I take it, the Mercs are investigating this as a murder.”

  “There doesn’t seem to be any other way to look at it.”

  “I’m a bit surprised,” Coaltank said. “Usually deaths involving the dower are passed off as accidents. It’s good to see that some Mercs are taking us seriously.”

  “I’m not actually a Merc,” Emily explained. “I’m just helping out. But Berk here is. He’s a member of the Red Wolves.”

  Coaltank looked between the two of them, then studied Berk closely. “I see,” he said. “So, tell me, Merc. Who hired you?”

  “I’m not rightly sure. I believe it was the MRC, but they don’t tell us,” Berk answered.

  The dower stroked his beard. “Well, the MRC do have a lot to lose, but they also have a lot to gain. So, answer me this one, Merc. What are the details of your mission? What is it that you are looking for? Are you looking for the assassin, or the research?”

  “I’m looking for the killer, of course,” Berk said as if the answer should be obvious, but Emily wasn’t so sure. She believed Berk was telling the truth, that he was honestly looking for an assassin, though she couldn’t help but think about the two Mercs outside Flintmace’s home. Maybe the reason they entered the building after Berk left wasn’t for personal gain. Maybe they were assigned to find the dower’s research and Berk was only assigned the case to make everything look legit. Petrova wanted him to say Boulderjaw’s death was due to an accidental fire. The only reason he didn’t was that Emily convinced him otherwise.

  “What did you mean when you said the MRC had a lot to gain?” she asked.

  “It’s quite simple really,” Coaltank said. “If the dowers can’t complete the research, then the MRC loses its investment; but on the other hand, if the dowers are successful and the techniques work, the MRC could move ahead of its competition. They would make them a fortune but not as much as if they owned the research outright.”

  “Are you saying the MRC doesn’t own the research, and the dowers do?”

  “Of course.”

  “So if the three dowers who worked on the project were to suddenly die in a series of strange accidents…”

  “The MRC could walk away with the research. Who would stop them? They hold onto it for a year, then claim it as their own. Who do you think the Bureau would side with—the vir who run the most successful mining company, or the dowers?”

  It wasn’t a difficult question to answer. From everything Emily had seen so far, there was no way the Bureau would side with the dowers. Did that place the MRC at the top of the suspect list? That would only be the case if the dowers completed their research, and the only one who could verify that would be—

  “Do you know where we can find Tulurum Hardbrew?”

  ~~~***~~~

  The directions Coaltank gave them were easy enough to follow, or at least Berk thought so. Emily had no idea where they were going, so she sat back and watched him drive. By now, she had a pretty good idea of how to operate a mana-powered vehicle even if she didn’t know how it worked. Then again, from what she’d seen, not too many people did. They took it all for granted. The vehicles, the tubes, the lifts even the streetlamps were so common, nobody gave them a second thought.

  Berk pulled the hot-top to the curb and shut it down. He pointed across the street to a row of buildings. One of them belonged to Tulurum Hardbrew.

  “So, what should we do now?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I was thinking. Seeing as the other two dowers were killed, it only stands to reason Hardbrew will be next. What if we wait here for the killer and catch him in the act?”

  Sometimes the simplest solutions aren’t necessarily the best.

  “Because we have no idea when or how they’re going to strike,” Emily answered. “We need to control the situation first. Make sure Hardbrew is safe. We can’t use him as bait if he doesn’t know he’s being used. Besides, how many days was it between Boulderjaw’s death and Flintmace’s?”

  Berk shrugged. “About four.”

  “And do you want to spend the next four days sitting across the street watching a door? Also, don’t you think our assassin might notice the hot-top? They’re not very subtle.”

  “Oh yeah. Didn’t think of that.”

  “We should probably find Mr. Hardbrew, tell him what happened, and take him someplace safe. Then we can decide what to do next.”

  “You’re the boss,” Berk said as he climbed out of the vehicle.

  That was something she hadn’t expected to hear.

  As they approached the line of buildings, Emily was pleased to see the windows were all intact and there was no sign of grayness to any of the structures. Whatever happened to Flintmace and Boulderjaw had yet to happen here. The buildings sat close together, creating narrow lanes between them. Above each of the doors was a silver plaque etched with a different number. Beyond that, all the buildings on the street looked the same. Berk walked up to 625 and knocked on the door with a heavy hand.

  “Anyone home? Mr. Hardbrew?”

  Silence.

  He knocked again.

  This time, they heard a loud thump, followed by the sound of shattering glass. Pushing Emily aside, Berk positioned himself in front of the door and threw his shoulder into it. The door didn’t stand a chance. It splintered on impact, falling away from the frame as Berk stumbled into the darkness.

  He really was good at breaking down doors.

  Emily slid the tyng from her jacket and followed. She instantly regretted not grabbing the cylindrical lantern that was sitting on the back seat of the hot-top. By the horrendous sound Berk made when he stumbled into the room, she guessed he must have taken out the entire dining room set. The noise was deafening. Suddenly the room was flooded with light so bright Emily was forced to shield her eyes.

  “Who are you? What are doing here? What do you want?” the light demanded.

  “Mr. Hardbrew?”

  “Don’t know any Mr. Hardbrew. Don’t know anyone by that name. Who are you?”

  “We’re Mercs from the Red Wolf Company,” Berk said, getting to his feet. He had what was left of a wooden chair looped around his arm. “We were told this is the home of a Mr. Hardbrew.”

  “Red Wolf Mercs? What are Mercs doing here? I didn’t send for any Mercs.”

  “We’re here to offer Mr. Hardbrew protection.”

  “Protection? He doesn’t need your protection.”

  Emily squinted into the light, but all she could make out was a dower-shaped silhouette.

  “I thought you said you didn’t know Mr. Hardbrew,” she said. “If that’s true, how do you know he doesn’t need our protection?”

  The silhouette laughed. “Because, little girl, from where I’m standing, you couldn’t protect a goblin’s virtue.”

  She might not have understood the reference, but she understood the meaning. They did kind of botch the entry.

  “How about dimming that light so we can talk face-to-face?” she asked.

  “Don’t try anything funny, missy. I got the big guy covered.”
/>   The light slowly dimmed to a more tolerable level. Standing against the wall, holding a lantern in one hand and a short metal tube in the other, was Tulurum Hardbrew. He matched Coaltank’s description: a portly, bald-headed dower with a curly red beard and a large red nose to match.

  Berk stepped forward. Hardbrew held up the metal tube and pointed it at the man’s chest.

  “I wouldn’t think about it, sonny,” he said with a grin. “It might not look like much, but it packs a punch.”

  Emily had seen something like it before in the hands of a Blue Tiger. She didn’t know what it was, but she had a feeling it was dangerous.

  “Look, Mr. Hardbrew. We were sent by Mr. Coaltank to keep you safe,” she said.

  “Coaltank? Eristral Coaltank? How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

  “We know what happened to Kivras Boulderjaw and Therm Flintmace. We think you might be next.”

  “Of course I’m next. You think I’m stupid?”

  “Then come with us. We can keep you safe.”

  “How do I know you’re not the ones who offed Boulder and Flint?”

  “Because if we did, you’d be dead by now.”

  Hardbrew thought for a moment and laughed. “You got me there, missy.” He lowered the short metal tube. “Saw what was left of Boulder. Don’t know what happened, but it was fast. Heard about Flint. Knew I was next. Coaltank really send you?”

  “We just came from talking to him in Talomria. That’s how we knew where to find you.”

  “Never thought old Coal would call in the Mercs.”

  “Actually, he didn’t. We… well, Berk here was assigned to investigate Boulderjaw and Flintmace’s deaths.”

  “I see.” Hardbrew set the lantern on the counter and slipped the metal tube into his pocket. “The mining company hired you then?”

  “We think so,” Berk answered.

  “Figures. Probably want to get their hands on the research. They care more about that than they did about us, the dirty little hamsters.”

  “So you completed the research?” Berk asked.

  Hardbrew grinned. “Maybe. Maybe not. What’s it to you? Does it make me more valuable if I did?”

  “I don’t care one way or the other,” Emily said. “But I do think we should get out of here while we still can. You are a target after all. The longer we stay, the longer you’re in danger.”

  Berk leaned toward Emily. “Where are we taking him?” he whispered.

  “How should I know? Where do the Red Wolves usually take people they’re protecting?”

  “We have several places, but I can’t use them.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have to get Petrova’s permission. I didn’t think this was going to turn into a safeguarding mission.

  “Oh, wonderful.” Hardbrew laughed. “I feel safer already.”

  Emily looked down at the splintered door beneath her feet. It wasn’t much use anymore.

  “We’ll take him back to Sarah’s apartment,” she heard herself say.

  “Won’t she be mad?” Berk asked.

  “Probably, but where else can we go?”

  “Right. Good point.” Berk straightened up and turned to the dower. “All right, Mr. Hardbrew. We are taking you to a safe place. Get anything you need, but be quick and pack light. We have to move fast.”

  Emily was impressed. Once again, Berk transformed into a professional Merc. She knew he had it in him if only he didn’t keep misplacing it.

  “All right. I’ll go with ya—for now,” Hardbrew said. “It’s not like I have much of a choice. You done busted down my door… and my dining room table.”

  “Oh yeah.” Berk picked up what was left of the door and set it against the wall. “The Red Wolves will pay for that.”

  “They better. What were ya thinking, flying through my door like that?”

  “We thought you were in trouble. We heard glass breaking.”

  “What did you expect? Ya done startled me awake with all your banging. I dropped my bottle.” The dower headed into the back room. “What a waste of a good ale,” he muttered.

  Emily decided to wait outside and let Berk deal with the dower alone.

  The streets were quiet now. There wasn’t much activity. A few people did stop to see what was going on, but they soon left. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t the people she could see that worried her, it was the ones she couldn’t. She kept a watchful eye on the shadows. She didn’t expect a frontal assault, not from this assassin. They relied on trickery but rather unoriginal trickery. They used the same technique twice. It was clumsy and inaccurate, but it was effective.

  “Come on, come on, let’s get this show on the road,” Hardbrew shouted as he exited the back room. “I don’t want to be late for my own execution.”

  He was now wearing an old brown jacket and a beat-up felt hat. Over his shoulder hung a satchel that clinked as he walked. Emily wondered if there was any part of the research inside, or was it merely filled with bottles of ale?

  Berk moved ahead of them to survey the area. He systematically looked from left to right, front to back, and even up and down, before waving them to proceed. This was the part of the job he knew, the part he was comfortable with.

  Emily led the dower to the hot-top waiting across the street.

  “So, you’re not one of those Red Wolf Mercs?” he asked her.

  “No, sir. I’m just helping out.”

  “Yeah. I didn’t think so. You seem too competent.”

  Opening the back door of the hot-top, she helped the dower in before sliding in next to him. Once they were safely inside, Berk fell back to the vehicle and climbed into the driver’s seat.

  “All right. We’re going to proceed to Sarah Cotton’s apartment. You are to do everything I say without question. Do you understand?”

  “Look, sonny. I’m not an idiot.”

  “Just drive, Berk.”

  “Fine.” Berk sulked.

  As they pulled away from the curb, Emily slipped the tyng back into her jacket and tried to get comfortable.

  “They’re not yours, are they?” Hardbrew asked.

  “Sorry?”

  “Those rods you carry. They’re not yours.”

  “Well…”

  “Didn’t think so.” He grinned. “Here, let me see one.”

  Reluctantly, Emily pulled out one of the tyngs and held it out to him, but he didn’t take it. Instead he grabbed her by the arm. His grip was like iron, and although he wasn’t applying much pressure, it still hurt. She had a feeling he could easily snap her wrist if he wanted to. With his free hand, the dower dug into his satchel and pulled out a small silver vial.

  “This might sting some,” he said.

  Uncorking the vial with his teeth, Hardbrew poured a few drops of red liquid on Emily’s closed fist and her hand started to tingle. She tried pulling it away, but the dower’s grip was unbreakable. The tingling turned into a burning sensation which quickly traveled up her arm. She still had a tight grip on the tyng but couldn’t let go if she wanted too. The temperature soon became unbearable as if her hand were on fire. She grabbed at Hardbrew’s fingers, trying to pry herself free, but the dower refused to let go.

  She screamed in pain.

  The hot-top suddenly stopped, throwing both of them forward and onto the floor of the vehicle. When Emily looked up, Berk was leaning over the seat with one large hand wrapped around the dower’s throat.

  “Berk, let him go,” she shouted.

  The last thing they needed was to kill the person they were trying to protect.

  Opening his hand, the Merc, released the dower. Hardbrew backed away, massaging his throat.

  “Easy there, boy,” he said with a wheeze. “Your girlfriend’s safe.”

  “What did you do to her? You all right, Em?”

  “Yeah. I think so.” Her hand was no longer on fire, and there didn’t appear to be any physical damage, but the tyng was warm to the touch. “What did you do to me?” s
he asked the dower.

  “Bonded you to the memoria metal,” he said.

  “Memoria…”

  “Memoria metal. Dowers started mining it ages ago. It was one of our best-kept secrets until the gates opened. The vir stole it from us like they stole everything else, but we never thought they’d get it to work. That was until the Bronzefeet clan joined Mana-Tech. After that, forget about it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Go on. Think the rod shorter.” The dower nodded toward the tyng. “It’s yours now.”

  At first, she wasn’t sure what he meant, but then she remembered the Blue Tiger who, with a flick of his wrist, produced the two-foot-long rod in the first place. She didn’t even need to concentrate that much. She pictured the tyng shorter and it retreated into her closed fist. When she opened her hand, the rod was now only three inches long.

  “That’s amazing,” she exclaimed.

  “That’s nothing,” Hardbrew said. “Think it longer.”

  Mimicking the movement the Blue Tiger made, she thought the tyng longer, but it didn’t stop at two feet. In the blink of an eye, it extended from her hand and shot out through the side window of the hot-top. It stretched across the sidewalk and stopped when it struck the side of a building. A total of nearly forty feet.

  “That’s a little too long,” she said.

  “Ya gotta concentrate, girl.”

  Emily looked down at the rod, and this time, she thought more about the length she wanted. She pictured it being only two feet long, and before she realized it, it was back to its original size.

  Hardbrew smiled with approval. “That’s pretty good. You catch on fast.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “What’s there to understand? You’re now bonded with the memoria metal.”

  “Bonded?”

  “That’s right. It’s yours now.”

  “How?”

  Hardbrew held up the small silver vial. “Liquid torment,” he said. “It can inflict tremendous amounts of pain without leaving any lasting damage. The elders used to use it to extract information from unwilling witnesses. I figured if anyone can withstand its effects, your kind could. Personally, I like to add three drops to a pint of ale. Gives it just enough kick.”

 

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