by Gaie Sebold
Orrie looked at the Whirligigs, then at the guards. “Um,” she said. “There isn’t room.”
“Open ’em.” The guard growled.
“If you insist. But you see, the mechanism...” Orrie unhinged the face of Reel, and swung it open, revealing a pair of blue-glass eyes hanging disconcertingly amid a series of levers and wheels, “it fills the whole shell.” She left the face open, and moved to the torso. “You see the cogs here, they turn this reticulating arm, here, which extends down...” Larger wheels and levers filled the torso. Orrie embarked on a lengthy discussion of how each cog and lever connected to each, gesturing so enthusiastically with the screwdriver she held that she narrowly missed whacking one of the guards on the leg. “And you see this bit here? That’s the ultimator. It works by reversing the motion of the diticulating wheel...” She opened the lower half – “Which attaches in there, behind all those cogs.”
A mass of tiny wheels filled the opening. “Now this one connects to the...”
“Never mind!” The guard said. “The other one!”
“Oh, it’s the same, but with slight adjustments for the difference in weight,” Orrie leapt towards Spin waving her screwdriver, and opened the face. “Let me show you. It’s actually fascinating, you see here where the balancing lever...”
“Yes, well, that will do, never mind,” the guard said. “His Lordship asks that you stay in here until the boats are ready.”
A boatful of Baridine Castle Guard bumped into Quat Quay, and scrambled out, leading their horses. “Here, you!” The Captain waved at the nearest person, a woman in an embroidered jacket and leather trousers, leaning on a bollard in the sun, cleaning a piece of tack. “We’re seeking some people who came in at dawn,” the Captain said. “A man, a woman, and... well, a dead woman. Did you see anything?”
“Oh, yes, the poor dead lady,” she said. “Picked her up and just slung her on a horse. Most impious. Went that way, up the sheep track.”
“After them!”
As the guards made their way up the track, four riderless horses trotted past them. The one in the lead was a magnificent animal, with an arched neck and dappled flanks, which a certain Lord Galzas might, if it had still had a white blaze, have recognised.
“Should we...”
“Ignore them,” the Captain snapped. “Wait, what’s that up ahead?”
A small boy was waving his hands above his head. “This way! This way!” He pointed up a side-track.
“What’s up there?” the Captain said.
“Are you the constables?”
“No.”
“Oh. Thought you were. They found a dead woman!” The boy’s face was alight with excitement. “It’s awful.”
The guards looked at each other, and made their way up the path.
Just over the brow of the hill was a small, tumbledown shelter. A group of people were gathered about it. From their dress, they were fishers, farmers, and traders, who had been on their way to or from the quay. They seemed extremely agitated.
In their midst, firmly held by a number of brawny arms and guarded with two shovels, three pitchforks and a large hammer, were three men, one of them dressed extravagantly in a green velvet coat with gold buttons.
None of them were the lady’s maid or the absent guard.
“What’s going on here?” The Captain said.
“Desecration!” said an ancient man, sucking his remaining tooth for emphasis. “The poor lady!” He jerked his head towards the shelter.
A corpse lay on the earthen floor. By her dress, it was definitely the one they were looking for. But Thunder Fever, though it had many unpleasant effects, had not done this. Even in the low light of the shelter it was obvious the unfortunate woman had been opened up from gullet to garters.
The Captain stared at the body. It had been a while since he’d seen combat, but he was fairly certain that a corpse usually had more blood in it. And innards. But then, she had been dead before she left the Rock. Perhaps that happened when someone died of the Thunder Fever. Such mysteries were best left for those who got paid to deal with them. He backed out, feeling even more confused, and somewhat sick.
“They gutted her like a fish!” said one man. “He had his hands in her up to the elbows! If something hadn’t spooked their horses, so they come racing out, all of a lather, just as Forber and me were passing, they’d have got clean away!”
“Something?” One of the detained men choked. “It was that demon in horse form, that’s what you should be after, it ripped their tethers right apart, and drove them down the track, it’s a demon, I tell you!”
It was true that fragments of leather, bearing what looked a great deal like the marks of horse teeth, still hung from a nearby tree.
“Demon! Hah! Horses know,” said a woman with a basket of carrots, nodding with pursed lips. “They can smell evil, horses. They chewed through their own tethers to get away from you!”
“It was that demon horse, I tell you!”
“Oh, do shut up,” said the man in the green velvet coat. “You really aren’t helping.”
“Here, you,” the Captain said. “There were two others with her. A man and a woman. What happened to them?”
“Two more?” Growled the man with the hammer. “Hah, I’ll bet they murdered them too!”
“I didn’t murder anybody!” The green-velvet-coat man said. “It must have been my... them! Those others! They killed her! I just... We found the lady and thought perhaps she might be revived...”
“Liar! Murderer!”
The Captain, realising that his quarry was long gone, and that this fancy-dressed degenerate was no business of his, beckoned his men and headed back to the quay, mentally preparing his excuses for the Dowager.
Behind them, the shouting continued until the town constables arrived.
After a few hours and a deal of vituperation and wailing from Pettigis, news came through that the hunt for Lady Casillienne had failed. The guests, most now torn between annoyance at the high-handed way they had been dealt with, irritation at the cancellation of the wedding, and the delightful possibilities for gossip and intrigue suggested by the bride’s disappearance, were permitted to leave the Rock.
Orrie struggled the two wheeled boxes containing the Whirligigs into the corridor. Pettigis, burdened only with a small bag of clothes and his self-pity, had already left for the boat.
A passing guard gallantly took one of the boxes, and they steered them towards the dock.
In the room she had just left, an old coat lay abandoned in one corner. Spilling out from beneath it were a number of cogs, wheels and levers, apparently forgotten in the artisans’ haste to pack.
Dagri jumped down from her perch on the quay when Shaikan appeared, with the three riderless horses in tow. Milandree and Alina emerged from the shed behind her. “That horse is positively uncanny,” Alina said.
Shaikan snorted, and spat out a fragment of leather.
The three of them mounted up, and headed back to town, the remaining horse trotting behind.
Orrie unloaded the cart as Pettigis secluded himself in his office, drinking heavily and beginning and discarding a dozen letters of exculpation and excuse to Lord Baridine, Lady Baridine, and all of the guests. He appeared to have forgotten he had told Orrie to do it.
She manoeuvred the two cases around to the back of the shop, checked that no one was in earshot, and unlocked the bell-shaped lower half of each Whirligig.
Two figures crumpled out onto the floor, accompanied by a clatter of cogwheels all wired together into the thin but effective sheets that had been hanging inside the openings.
“Aagh,” Madis said. “I’ll never move again. My knees.”
Lady Casillienne, still in her guards’ uniform, only groaned.
It did not, however, escape her notice that Madis now wore, as well as her guard’s uniform, two ropes of pearls, a rather good set of emeralds, and a large ruby ring.
The small boarding house still smelled of cheap stew and d
amp. The fellow who opened the door to the party was as colourless as ever, though his sandy eyebrows rose a little at the sight of the heavily cloaked women on his doorstep. “Help you?”
One of the women pushed past him, shouting, “Deanna! Deanna!”
With a clatter of boots the woman who had hired Arden to steal the belt came running down the stairs, pausing at the bottom, open mouthed. “My Lady!”
“None of that, my dear, we’re among friends here.” Lady Casillienne held out her hands. “Deanna.”
“Oh dear gods,” the woman said, and flung herself into Lady Casillienne’s arms. “You’re safe, you’re safe, I thought... I didn’t...”
“Deanna.” Lady Casillienne hugged her hard, closing her eyes. “I thought they’d killed you.”
“The others... they killed the others. I hid in a ditch, I...” her breath hitched. “Thoma fell on top of me, dead. Hid me. I heard them talking as they put the belt on you. Waited. When they were gone, I climbed out. I couldn’t get word home, couldn’t trust anyone would believe me in a place where the Baridines have so many supporters so... I hired a thief to steal the belt. I believed once it was off you would find a way...” she shook her head, and swallowed.
Lady Casillienne lifted her head, and released her friend. “That is why you are my closest advisor, Deanna.” Her gaze hardened. “And why you will help me devise an appropriate response to what the Baridines tried to do to me.”
“Are you... Did it...” Deanna stammered.
“My Adeptcy is returning, slowly.”
“Thank the gods. But where is the man I hired?” Deanna said. “And who are these ladies?”
“I have no idea who you hired, but these are my rescuers.”
Madis bowed. “Ma’am. The man you hired, hired us. He... Well, let’s just say he was about as trustworthy as the Baridines. In any case, I’m glad to see you safely reunited.”
“What happened to the belt?” Deanna said.
“I’ve got it,” Alina said, patting her bag. “I didn’t dare let it out of my sight.”
“You didn’t wear it?”
“Ugh, no, I wrapped it in every binding I could come up with on short notice and shoved it in my bag. It should be destroyed, but I’m not sure how to do it safely.”
“I suggest,” Lady Casillienne said, “you take it to the Adepts’ Guild. With a letter I shall provide, under my seal. I shall also provide the full Guild fee – the standard fee, not the ridiculous one they wish you to pay.”
“My Lady?” Alina said.
“You wish to join them, do you not? I will suggest, strongly, that you are allowed to do so, and to progress to full Guild status, like anyone else, and in return I will refrain from mentioning to his Majesty, under whose licence the Guild exists, that the Adepts’ Guild somehow permitted the creation of such an incredibly dangerous item, and its use against the leader of a currently friendly foreign power.” Lady Casillienne smiled. It was warm, genuine, and utterly remorseless.
Alina stared, then squeaked. “Thank you!”
“In the meantime,” Lady Casillienne continued, “I have access to banking facilities in Brisha. I will pay you, as promised, three times what you were offered.” She hesitated. “Deanna, you do still have my seal?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a relief.” She looked at Milandree. “I shall hire guards, also. I don’t plan to make my presence here public, but Baridine might yet come looking. I’ll also need an escort once the passes open. As you know the local area I would appreciate your advice on that.”
“Ma’am.” Milandree said.
“I will need someone to train my new personal guard. Mine were good people,” grief darkened her face for a moment, “but it seems, not good enough. Might you be interested in such a thing? A temporary position, at least to begin with.”
“I...” Milandree blinked. “Ma’am. I mean, yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
“I could use a good artisan, too,” she said, looking at Orrie. “Even in my condition, I was impressed by your Whirligigs.”
“Um.” Orrie blinked. “Thank you. Only... I have something I have to do. For someone.”
“Of course. Well, for the future, the offer remains. If I can assist with what you plan, assuming it is legal...” the merest fragment of a smile brushed her mouth, “please inform me.”
Finally, she turned to Madis. The two women regarded each other with cool interest until Madis’ own mouth quirked upwards. “Ma’am?”
Lady Casillienne tapped the side of her mouth with one forefinger. “I find myself tempted to create a position of First Thief of the Household, purely for you, but you would not take it.”
“No, ma’am, thank you all the same.”
“You will of course be paid. But you – all of you,” she swept them with her glance – “freed me from...” Her control flickered, and her eyes were for a moment those of an animal in a snare, who hears the tread of the hunter. Then the look was gone as though it had never been. “Not just me, but my people. What that man would have left of my poor country, when he had done with it, I can hardly bear to imagine. Money is a useful thing, but should any of you, in future, need help that money alone cannot provide, I ask you to call on me. Discreetly, of course.”
Five
A few weeks later there was a meeting at the Black Pig. There was pie, and beer, and wine, and a great deal of merriment. Nib fell asleep on her mother’s lap.
“So,” Alina said, over her daughter’s lolling head. “Did you hear? Baridine entered the Stone Order!”
“The Stone Order?” Madis almost choked on her beer. “Aren’t they one of those raw-roots and silent contemplation lot? He won’t last a week!”
Alina beamed. “After all the money he poured into the wedding that never was, his creditors got really narky. His mother’s retiring to the dower house, which, my loves, is not only in a very damp and unfashionable patch of the remaining family lands but has been horribly neglected for years – presumably because she didn’t ever plan to live there.”
“They’re lucky Her Ladyship didn’t have ’em both assassinated,” Madis said. “Frankly, I probably would have. On the other hand, her way, they both live in misery for as long as their health holds up, and neither of them dare complain, in case the truth comes out.” She frowned at her beer. “I tell you what – I’m glad she owes us.”
“You should be,” Milandree said. “Baridine gifted her Brute Rock.”
They looked at each other for a long moment, as the implications sank in.
“Can he do that?” Orrie said.
“It was crown gift, free, clear, unentailed. He can do what he likes with it.” Milandree gave one of her rare smiles. “Don’t suppose he did like it, but he’s done it.”
“Bloody hells,” Madis said. “So Lady Casillienne now controls the most strategically important stronghold on this entire coast.”
“Yep.” Milandree frankly grinned.
“You like her!” Alina accused.
“Admire,” Milandree said. “Don’t you?”
“Oh, definitely.” Alina stroked Nib’s curls. “Admire. Am frankly slightly terrified of. Basically, she’s an enemy I really don’t want. Speaking of things I don’t want, Madis, what happened to your wretched brother?”
“He’s in jail. They couldn’t prove murder, so he got done for desecration of a body.” She smiled. “I thought of breaking him out, just to annoy him, but I decided a few months of bad food and no change of clothes will do him good.”
“How long do you think it took him to realise we knew he was listening, at the Black Pig?”
“Who knows?” Madis snorted. “He may not yet. He really isn’t as smart as he thinks he is.”
“He won’t change, you know,” Alina said.
“I know.”
Alina shifted Nib’s weight. “So Milandree’s off to Darnor to train guards, I’m starting my apprenticeship in three days, what about you, Orrie?”
“I’m t
aking Enlarius to Tessery.” She pushed her glasses up on her nose, and lifted her tankard. “Here’s to flying pigs, eh?”
“Dagri?”
“I am looking for a mare for Shaikan. I think I have found one, but obtaining her will take work.”
“And you, Madis?” Alina’s mouth drooped. “I feel as though we’re all abandoning you.”
“Pah. You’ll finish your apprenticeship at top speed, Milandree will get fed up of the Northern winters, and Whassname of Tessery won’t want to keep Ollie around once he knows she’s a better Artificer without Adeptcy than he is with it. In the meantime,” Madis grinned. “That mare Dagri wants is currently the most prized possession of the Caliph of Ibarian. We’re going to steal her.”
She raised her tankard. “Cheers.”
About the Author
Gaie Sebold’s debut novel introduced brothel-owning ex-avatar of sex and war, Babylon Steel (Solaris, 2012); followed by the sequel, Dangerous Gifts. The steampunk fantasy Shanghai Sparrow came out in 2014 and Sparrow Falling in 2016. Her stories have appeared in a number of magazines and anthologies, including the BFS Award shortlisted anthology Fight Like a Girl. She is a freelance copy editor, runs writing workshops, grows vegetables, and was a judge for the 2017 Arthur C Clarke Award.
Her website is www.gaiesebold.com and you can find her on twitter @GaieSebold
Table of Contents
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About the Author
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
About the Author
