The Fourth Ruby

by James R. Hannibal

  “The origin of his power.” Gwen locked her eyes with his. “The origin of the ruby that he broke into the four stones.”

  “Tajikistan,” they both said together.

  Gwen turned to their wooden assistant. “Marta, can you show us Tajikistan?”

  “I am not familiar with that term,” said the wooden girl, returning from the bridge.

  “Right. Of course not. You think it’s 1917.” Gwen raised her palms to her temples, as if trying to squeeze the right word out of her brain. “Aaaaahhhummm.” She snapped her fingers. “Badakhshan! That’s the one. Marta, can you show us the Badakhshan mine region?”

  “Badakhshan. Yes. Joseph Fowler Eight and Nine photographed much of Central Asia from the second Count Bruce’s flying machine.” Marta flicked a toggle and turned a pair of knobs on the control bank. The black-and-white terrain shot up into the mist and vanished, replaced by a flat aerial photograph of more mountains, curving around the chamber. “Here we are.”

  Gwen scanned the map. “His three greatest subjects bow before him,” she muttered. “Three greatest . . .”

  “There.” Jack pointed to the intersection of three hills, converging in a valley. “The great subjects are hills, bowing at his tomb. The intersection marks the gravesite.”

  “Good thought,” said Gwen, “but there’s no river.” She paced the edge of the platform, moving westward across the map, deeper into the mountainous terrain. “Marta, can you superimpose a map of known ruby mines?”

  The wooden girl flipped another toggle and a faded map of the Badakhshan mines appeared, superimposed over the aerial photo.

  “Now we’re talking.” Gwen waved a hand over the periphery of the mines. “It would be close, sharing the same vein of minerals but lost to the maps of the twentieth century.” She pointed at another meeting of three hills, with a glade between them. “Here. And there’s a stream as well.”

  “There are a lot of streams.” Jack stepped up beside her. “What makes you like this one?”

  Gwen traced a finger along the flow of water, cutting straight downhill from a river that meandered east to west through the higher terrain. “How many natural mountain streams have you seen that run in a straight line?”

  “ ‘His personal guard diverted a river to conceal the entrance,’ ” said Jack, quoting Marta. “They dug a channel from the river.”

  Gwen nodded to the wooden girl. “Marta, if you would, please? We need to see the three-dimensional view of these coordinates.”

  “You have chosen thirty-eight degrees, twenty-six minutes north, seventy-three degrees, two minutes east.” Using the controls, she turned the map on its edge to form a disk around the platform and then stretched it down into a three-dimensional view.

  As Marta zoomed in on the spot, the mountains rushed toward them, giving Jack the feeling of flying up the twisting valley between the northernmost hills. The image came to a halt, and there at the base of the southern hill, hanging over the stream, was a beaklike formation of rock.

  “ ‘His favorite hawk keeps watch for tomb raiders.’ ” Jack turned his back to the map to stare at Gwen and Sadie. “Did we just find Genghis Khan’s tomb?”

  Someone clapped from the library outside the dome—a slow, deliberate, mocking clap. “I believe you did, my boy. I believe you did.”

  Gwen’s eyes narrowed in anger.

  Jack spun and saw Edward Tanner standing on the other side of the moat.

  The professor laughed. “And I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the effort.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  JACK SQUARED OFF at the edge of the bridge, opposite his mentor. “You have a lot to answer for, Tanner.”

  The wheelchair was nowhere in sight. The professor stood straight and tall, without that absurd blanket that had always lain across his perfectly good legs. Beneath his open coat, he now wore a shirt of gold chain mail, with a triangle of rubies and silver bars on his chest that matched the device Temujin was wearing in the painting—except Tanner’s device was missing the center jewel.

  Jack could feel the Black Prince’s Ruby calling to him, the same way it had called to him in the Vault. He felt compelled to rescue it from Tanner’s evil clutches. It dawned on him that the Duke of Alencon had likely felt the same about Henry at Agincourt, and Don Pedro had probably felt the same about Abu Sa’id when the Moorish delegation came to Castile. The ruby put out a kind of beacon that turned man against man—loyalty perverted. Jack gritted his teeth.

  Tanner read his expression. “Are you feeling the loyalty, Jack? That aggressive, mindless allegiance to a shiny object? You would kill me for it if I let you.”

  Kill? Would Jack ever kill a man over a jewel, as those men at Agincourt had killed one another? He felt the steely cold of a hilt in his palm and glanced down. He was holding Britain’s Sword of State. The jewel case lay open at his feet. Jack had no memory of popping the catches or drawing out the weapon. Yet, there it was in his hand.

  And why not?

  Would it be so wrong to run Tanner through? The man had betrayed and murdered Jack’s grandfather. He had murdered Raven and her brother.

  Jack raised the king-size weapon, gripping the golden hilt with two hands. “This ends now,” he said, and started across the bridge.

  Gwen followed, towing Sadie behind her. “Careful, Jack. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

  Regret? He laughed—right out loud. He wasn’t going to regret this.

  Tanner raised his hands in mock surrender, retreating through the shelves. “That’s it, Jack. Show me your darkest thoughts. But don’t come too close.” He pushed out a palm.

  Jack froze. His legs refused to move. His arms and torso were free, but from the waist down his muscles felt as if they had turned to stone.

  Sadie and Gwen were stuck as well—one beside the other—with Gwen at Jack’s shoulder. Gwen tugged at her own leg, trying to pull her foot off the floor. “Jack, what’s happening?”

  “ ‘The power to command men,’ Miss Kincaid.” Tanner waved his other hand across the Timur Ruby. It was the only one of the three stones etched with script—Persian, maybe Hindi. “Many rulers tried to claim that power by carving their names into the stone. Fools. Only a strong mind can control it. A mind like mine.”

  “You’re . . . wrong,” grunted Jack, still fighting the strange energy holding his legs in place. “You aren’t controlling these gems. They’re controlling you. Take them off before they destroy you.”

  “Nice try, my boy. But I don’t think so.” Tanner turned his hand and curled his fingers, bringing Jack a step closer. “You’re right in one sense. I do not have full control. At the moment I can only bend a few muscle groups to my will—your legs, for instance, and those of Miss Kincaid and your sister. I cannot take the full power of command without the spirit of Genghis Khan waiting within the fourth ruby, just as I cannot take the full power of knowledge or loyalty from the other two.” He grinned. “But that is no longer a problem. Thanks to you, I now have the location of his tomb.”

  “You’re cracked,” said Gwen. “You’ve completely lost the plot.”

  “Have I, my dear? Or have I been driving it from the very start? You three have followed every step of the path I laid out for you. I know”—he removed a gold-plated cylinder from his coat and pressed a button on its top—“I’ve been watching.”

  Gwen let out a scream. The left pocket of her coat began to bulge and squirm. Frantically, she reached in and tossed away a leather pouch. It landed on the carpet several feet away, shifting and wriggling.

  Jack could see she wanted to back away from it, but she couldn’t. “That’s the bag of guild coin from the Phantom’s desk,” he said. “The one Raven waved in front of us at the tinker’s place. She tricked us into taking it.”

  Gwen gave a disgusted shudder. “You mean she tricked me.”

  One of the shiny cubes rolled out onto the carpet, followed by another, and then another, and more until a small
army of gold, silver, and copper guild coin had lined itself up in a semicircle. All at once, they cracked open.

  Sadie moaned. “Ugh. Spiders.”

  The edges of the cubes became legs, eight each, some with tiny jewels at their peaks, and the abdomens were glass vials filled with syrupy green liquid. The heads were mostly gears and lenses—and long, glistening fangs. Jack had seen a similar creature in his mind while waiting to enter the arena. He had written it off as delusion. He should have known better. “Where did you get those?”

  “A gift from a benefactor,” said Tanner. “An investment, if you will, by one who thinks he can control me. He has no idea how wrong he is.”

  A benefactor. Jack thought back to his spark at the Ministry of Secrets, when he had seen the man with the clockwork eye hand a case to the Phantom. He clenched his teeth. “Gall.”

  Tanner neither confirmed nor denied Jack’s suspicion. “My spiders kept me informed of your progress,” he said, waving the control cylinder, “as I nudged you from one step to the next. I didn’t follow you here. Much to the contrary. I was waiting under the porch when you arrived—waiting for Jack to unlock the library and find Temujin’s tomb. Well done on all counts, boy, but I think you’ve finally outlived your usefulness.” He pressed another button, and the centermost spider reared back and hissed.

  “Wait.” Gwen held up a hand. “Just . . . wait a minute.” Jack could see Gwen was stalling, but it worked. The spiders backed off. “If you were already under the porch,” she said, “then who was it that drove up in the car as we came in?”

  A wolf’s-head cane swung out from behind a bookshelf, hitting Tanner behind the knees. He slammed down onto his back with a pained Oomph.

  Ash stepped into the open and stood over him, the butt of his cane at Tanner’s neck. “That’d be me.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  THE MOMENT Tanner hit the ground, Jack regained control of his legs. He rushed the spiders, scattering them in all directions.

  Shaw appeared next to Ash. “Mrs. Hudson’ll be wantin’ this,” he said, thick fingers going straight for the Black Prince’s Ruby.

  “No, Shaw!” shouted Jack. “Restrain him first. He’s got—”

  He was too late. Tanner zipped away across the carpet, a blue-white glow at each heel. He was still wearing the ankle thrusters. With the grace of a superhero, he righted himself and landed halfway up the steps to the entrance. He raised a hand, and the teens and Sadie all froze.

  “I can’t move my legs,” said Shaw, looking frantically down at his wingtips.

  Gwen shot him a frown. “Yes. We know.”

  The spiders skittered out from under the shelves and desks, surrounding them in a tightening circle of pure creepiness.

  Jack’s eyes went to Sadie, who was clutching her arms to her chest as if trying to squeeze herself out of existence before the bugs could get to her. “Don’t, Professor,” he begged. “Please.”

  But Tanner only grinned—with the same malice as the tsar in the snowy square. Perhaps the Russian ruby had shown him how to deal with young trackers, quartermasters, and wardens the way it had shown Nicholas how to deal with rebellious troops. This fight could get just as ugly.

  The clockwork spiders reached Marta first. Two of them spiraled up her body and settled on her shoulders, wasting no time before sinking gold-and-silver fangs into her neck. The green syrup drained from their glass abdomens.

  “Oh, Marta,” groaned Gwen, reaching for her.

  But Marta showed no ill effects. She scowled at the creatures and picked them both up by their back legs. “You are a threat to this station,” she said. “You will be terminated.” And then she crumpled them in her palms and dropped the remains into a waste bin.

  “Oh. Right.” Gwen glanced over at Jack and rolled her eyes. “She’s made of wood.”

  Marta wasn’t bound by the power of the Timur Ruby, either. She immediately began stomping at the other bugs. “You are a threat to this station. You will be terminated.” It seemed the biting spiders had activated her security function.

  Jack played a hunch. “Marta, Tanner brought those things in here. He is the threat.”

  Marta’s foot stopped an inch above a cowering spider. Her Rolodex clacked. “Edward Tanner. Tracker. Ministry authorization nine four seven six.”

  Gwen nodded, catching on. “That’s right. He’s a tracker, Marta. But he’s a traitor. Listen to me. Listen to Saraa Fowler. Edward Tanner is trying to kill us.”

  The Rolodex buzzed, going into overdrive, and then stopped. “Edward Tanner . . . traitor.” A blue glow ignited behind Marta’s eyes. The narrow wood panels that formed her shoes, calves, dress, and arms flipped over, exposing bronze plating. Her knuckles flipped last, capped with spikes. She clenched her fists, finished her stomp, grinding the spider into the carpet, and then marched toward the stairs. “Edward Tanner, you are a threat to this station.”

  Tanner backed up two steps.

  “You will be terminated.”

  “Uh-oh,” said Ash, swatting a spider away with his cane. “I think you’re in trouble, Professor.”

  Undaunted by the threat to its master, a spider leaped at Sadie. She raised an arm and screamed, but the creature never landed. The wooden bird swooped down and caught it midair, wings, talons, and beak flipping to bronze to match Marta. It ripped its captive in two, wheeled around, and dove at Tanner.

  Ash grinned. “Yeah. You’re definitely in trouble.”

  Tanner seemed to agree. He ran up the steps.

  The remaining spiders abandoned their attacks on the children and scurried after Marta.

  “A nuisance,” Tanner called over his shoulder, waving his arms to protect himself from the bird. “That’s all.” He reached the top and clawed at the elevator platform, hauling it down. “I am the successor of the Great Khan. I will stand against whole armies. You cannot stop me with wooden toys.”

  His threat seemed a little empty, given the scene unfolding.

  Marta reached him, spiders hanging from every limb, and cocked her spiked fist for a right cross. But Tanner launched himself through the opening, and the elevator slammed into place behind him. She lowered her fists to her sides. “And stay out!”

  “Well done,” said Ash, tipping his cap.

  With Tanner gone, the spiders dropped from the wooden girl and flooded down the stairs.

  Jack sidestepped to protect his sister. “I can move,” he said, slashing at a jumping arachnid with his sword. He clipped a leg, diverting its trajectory. It landed on seven legs and immediately renewed its attack.

  Gwen stomped it into the carpet. “We all can, now that Tanner’s gone. But I wouldn’t get too excited. This is far from over.”

  Three of the creatures assaulted Shaw but could not penetrate his tweed coat. The big warden brushed them down his arm into a pile and crushed them under his heel. Sparks flew out from either side of his shoe. Beside him, Ash was knocking spiders away left and right.

  Jack stayed close to Sadie, trying to breathe, trying to see. But he had trouble anticipating the spiders’ movements. There was too much static in his head. Each attacking creature got closer to victory until, finally, Jack missed one completely, slicing the air beneath its copper legs as it leaped for his face, fangs at the ready.

  Gwen’s scarf snapped out. The creature flew across the room and slammed into the wall, glass abdomen shattering. It left an oozing green trail as it slid down onto the credenza.

  “Thanks,” said Jack, catching his breath.

  “Don’t mention it.” Gwen wrapped her scarf in multiple loops around her neck with one graceful motion. “Was that the last one?”

  Ash nodded, leaning on his cane and breathing hard. “Think so.”

  “You are a threat to this station. You will be terminated.”

  “Or not,” said Jack.

  He glanced over his shoulder to see Marta marching toward him, spiked knuckles raised like a boxer. With a sudden, cold rush down his spine, he
realized she wasn’t coming for him. Spiked feet dug into his leather jacket, prickling his back. A huge golden spider, with emeralds at the apex of each leg, crawled over his shoulder. It was going for the exposed flesh at his neck.

  Sadie’s hand snapped out before Marta could reach them.

  Jack swatted at his sister’s arm. “Sadie, no!”

  Too late. She plucked the spider from his shoulder by its glass vial and tried to toss it away. The eight legs flipped backward and latched onto her finger. She couldn’t shake it loose.

  The creature’s head rotated in place, golden fangs gleaming in the dull light of the liquid lanterns.

  Sadie screamed in pain.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  JACK SMASHED THE SPIDER away from his sister’s hand with the hilt of his sword, and the creature bounced across the carpet, legs curled against its half-empty abdomen. As soon as it landed, the legs uncurled and reversed, pressing their spiked ends into the carpet.

  Gears whirred.

  Joints clicked.

  It jumped.

  Jack took a blind swing, and legs, gears, and glass flew in all directions.

  It was over.

  He let out a long breath, sliding his sword into his belt. But then he heard Sadie moan behind him. Jack turned and saw his sister sinking to her knees. “Sadie?”

  Ash and Gwen ran to her side, easing her down.

  “No. No, no, no.” Jack took his sister’s hand. The bite marks on her finger were swollen and red. A trace of green syrup still lingered between them. He wiped it away and kissed the injury. “Why did you do that?”

  Sadie gave him a weak smile. “I told you that you’d need me.”

  He nodded, tears welling in his eyes. “You found the symbol on the tapestry. You gave me the key that got us into the library. You brought Marta to life so we could find the location of Temujin’s tomb. I did need you. I’ll always need you. So don’t go anywhere.” Her eyes were closing. Jack patted her hand until they fluttered open again. “You hear me, Sadie? Don’t go.”