A Grimoire for the Baron

by Eon de Beaumont

  The older soldier advanced on Querry, and Querry just lay still until Owens reached him. Then he kicked out, hitting the other man in the shin with the heel of his boot. He doubted he broke the bone, but he knew he’d delivered at least a nasty bruise. Owens doubled over to grasp his leg, and Querry kicked up, hitting him square in the chest and knocking him back again. Some of the crewmen watching the brawl groaned with empathy. Querry twisted and pushed himself up on his hands and knees, not expecting Owens to recover as quickly as he did. Before Querry saw him coming, he drove his heel into Querry’s ribs, flipping him to his back again.

  Querry rolled before the mercenary could pin him a second time. He barely escaped Owens’s dive, hurrying to his feet while the mercenary pitched forward, off balance. Before Owens regained his footing, Querry punched him in the lower back, three times in rapid succession, driving Owens down on his knees. Querry didn’t really want to hurt the other man. Owens was a mouthy, judgmental prick, sure, but he didn’t deserve serious injury, so Querry held back when he could have delivered a deciding strike. Owens wasn’t so considerate. He swiped his arm out in a circle, hitting Querry in the knees and knocking him off his feet yet again. It had been a long time since Querry had faced such a formidable opponent.

  Spittle flew from the mercenary’s mouth as he drew one of the nasty, foot-long, serrated blades popular in the Empire’s wildest colonies. “I’m gonna cut your balls off, you miserable little cocksucker. I’m finished with you and your faggot friends.”

  “Enough.” A crack of thunder split the sky and silenced everyone present. As he strode to the center of the crowd, Starling, for once, looked regal and commanding instead of drunk and debauched. He stood proud and erect in his fine, fitted clothes, and his presence cowed all of them, even Querry. “I will not tolerate such behavior from those I have employed with the expectation of professionalism. You, sailors, get back to work. These repairs won’t wait until tomorrow. We’re adrift until they’re complete, so use your time wisely, instead of standing around and gawking like idiots at two fools.”

  The baron reached down and seized Querry by his lapels, hauling him to his feet. Querry, too stunned to resist, let himself be dragged upright. Starling stared at him with deep blue eyes filled with such strong disappointment and disgust that Querry actually felt ashamed. He felt like a scolded child, and humbly followed the aristocrat into the galley to receive his punishment. Even Owens walked with his head bowed and his eyes on his scraped knuckles. Even so, Querry noticed Frolic catch Tom Teezle by the elbow and urge him away from the throng, toward a stack of crates near the helm. The two of them disappeared behind the pile of cargo as Querry, Owens, and Starling entered the shade of the galley.

  Starling’s cool, aristocratic demeanor disappeared as soon as they left the sight of the sailors. He grabbed Querry by the front of the shirt and shoved him against the wall, making the metal dishes, utensils, and cans of food rattle.

  When Querry grabbed his wrists to push Starling off, currents of pain shot up his arms. Querry gritted his teeth against the shooting agony and said “Take your hands off me.”

  With a final shove that knocked tins of meat clattering to the floor, Starling released Querry. The baron took a few steps back and smoothed the points of his waistcoat. Then he crossed his arms and glared at both the thief and the mercenary. “What do you two think you’re playing at?”

  Both of them spoke at once. Querry said: “This bastard has been slandering and harassing me and my friends since we came aboard. If he wants to call us names and make implications, I have every right to defend against them. I won’t suffer these insults.”

  At the same time, Owens bellowed: “These bummers have no place on this mission, sir. I don’t mean to question your decisions, but do you realize the kind of men you’ve hired on? I saw their like by the Black Sea, and begging your pardon, your Lordship, but it ain’t no good to employ men who’d rather bugger each other than use their guns!”

  Starling raised his hand. “Both of you, shut up.”

  They did. Starling shook his head as he walked in small circles around the cramped room. “Are you children?”

  “No, sir,” Owens responded.

  Querry curled his lip and said nothing.

  “And should I have to watch over you like a nursemaid?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Keep this belligerent bastard in line, and you’ll have no worries from me, majesty,” Querry said.

  “Keep yourself in line, you little queer,” Owens said, jabbing his thick finger in Querry’s direction.

  “Fuck off, Owens.”

  “Enough of this.” Starling’s voice echoed off the metal shelving and insubstantial, tin walls of the ship’s kitchen. “You answer to me, both of you. The undertaking is the only thing of importance here. Nothing else matters. I don’t care about the petty disputes you have with one another. You will do the jobs you’re being paid to do, with minimal disruption. Do I make myself completely plain? Evans?”

  “It’s Owens, sir.”

  “Whatever.” Starling flicked his wrist, as if to banish unseen cobwebs.

  “Yes, sir,” Owens said, hanging his head.

  “Very well. You are dismissed.” Starling waved toward the galley door, and Owens departed.

  “You know, I’m not so accustomed to taking orders as he is,” Querry said. “In fact, I take no orders but my own.”

  “And that’s why I need you, Mr. Knotte. You have a completely different way of approaching a problem than the soldiers. I suspect I’ll need it more than blind obedience soon enough. Still, I expect you to be civil.”

  “I’ll be perfectly civil if he is. I won’t have my friends slandered, Starling. I don’t care much about myself—people have always seen me as trash—but Reg and Frolic don’t deserve—”

  “Certainly not. I understand your frustration, but one must always endeavor to be a gentleman, Querrilous.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.” To Querry’s utter bafflement, the baron grasped the back of his neck and kissed him hard between the eyes.

  AS SOON as he saw Starling pull Querry into the galley, Frolic knew he had to seize the moment. He slipped behind the distracted sailors, calling on all Querry had taught him of stealth, and touched Tom Teezle lightly on the shoulder. A warm current of magic flowed up Frolic’s arm and made the parts within him vibrate pleasantly. He’d been nervous about dealing with the faerie without Querry or Reg; he didn’t like acting without their guidance. Now, with the enchantment flowing through him, he felt calm, confident, and strong.

  He met the faerie’s gem-like eyes and smiled. “Would you mind talking to me for a few minutes, Tom?”

  “Talk, then.”

  “Can we talk alone?” Frolic found a secluded corner of the deck hidden from the rest by some wooden crates. Tom followed him, and as they stood looking at one another, Frolic realized he didn’t know what to say. He’d forgotten all the questions that had seemed so vital. In mere seconds the faerie looked bored, glancing over his shoulder every few minutes. Frolic worried if he didn’t say something soon, Tom might leave.

  “I’m curious about you,” Frolic said without guile. He moved a little closer to Tom. The faerie’s enormous eyes slanted in a way different from anyone Frolic had ever seen, and his skin differed too. It was a soft, golden brown, impossibly smooth, the pores barely visible. His tangled spikes of hair had an almost metallic quality.

  “I’m a bit interested in you, as well. Specifically in the enchantment flowing through you. It was cast by someone very powerful. Did you know him well?”

  Frolic nodded, remembering Querry’s faerie companion. “He took something from me I cared about very much. I was afraid of him.”

  Tom giggled. “I should say so.”

  “You’re very beautiful,” Frolic said, touching the point of one of Tom’s long ears. Then, remembering he couldn’t touch anyone he wanted, that there were rules regarding it, he quickl
y pulled his hand away.

  “Yes,” Tom said.

  “Are you happy working for Lord Starling? Is he good to you?”

  “He is not a cruel man,” Tom said as he spread his long, elegant fingers wide and held his hand less than an inch from Frolic’s heart. “Still, we’re better than them.”

  “Faeries?” Frolic felt the heat of Tom’s palm through his shirt, felt enchantment pouring out of him. He supposed it made him feel similar to Querry and Reg when they had a few glasses of good wine.

  “Creatures of magic. You and I.”

  “I’m not a creature of magic,” Frolic said. “I’m a clockwork. Besides, isn’t Starling a wizard?”

  The fey sniffed. “That’s the difference between dipping your toe in the ocean and being the ocean.”

  “So, you’d rather get away from him?”

  “Of course. Wouldn’t you?”

  “What?” Frolic didn’t understand.

  “Wouldn’t you rather be free than forced to serve humans? Don’t you have things of your own to pursue?”

  “No, you don’t understand. I don’t serve Querry and Reg. They’re my friends. They teach me and keep me safe. I like being with them.”

  “You remain in the company of those dull creatures willingly?”

  “That’s unkind and untrue. You shouldn’t say such things, Tom.”

  “I suppose it doesn’t matter. The lives of these humans are brief compared to our own. We’ll be free of them soon enough. Still, I wish it could be sooner. It’s terribly tedious. Starling never lets me have any fun. With him, it’s always useful things. Serving the purpose. You know, I might destroy him should I get the chance. I might not, but I might.” Tom shrugged as if they discussed nothing more than the weather.

  “The purpose,” Frolic whispered. “Tom, is Starling really looking for a magical energy source? Or is it something else?”

  “I’m forbidden to disclose his secrets by a contract rather like your own.”

  “Please, just tell me if he’s lying to us. Just say yes or no.”

  “No.” The fey grinned.

  Frolic rubbed his forehead. “So the energy exists?”

  “Starling believes it does.”

  “And what about you?”

  “What does it matter?” Tom asked.

  “It matters to me.”

  “The texts he’s asked me to translate indicate something in that jungle. Something ancient and powerful. At the very least, we’ll be well entertained for a change.”

  Frolic considered the flippant creature’s words. “So, he learned of it from faerie manuscripts? How did he come by them?”

  Tom laughed. “Not honestly.”

  “Is that why they—your people—are attacking us? Because he stole from them?”

  “I don’t believe so, no. But let me ask a question of you now, Frolic. If you aren’t bound, why don’t you use your magic? Why do you bother with all those inelegant machines?”

  “I can’t use magic. I can sense its presence. I feel it in you, Tom. But I can’t control it. If I could, none of us would be here. I’d have been able to break Starling’s spell.”

  “I wondered why you didn’t.”

  They stood looking at one another in silence, Frolic’s gaze steady while Tom’s darted about, his hand still above Frolic’s heart. Finally, Frolic reached up, slid his fingers between the fey’s fingers, and curled his hand around Tom’s. “I’ll help you if I can, Tom. Help you free yourself.”

  Tom arched his brows, then narrowed his eyes. He mimicked Frolic’s gesture and wound his fingers over Frolic’s knuckles, amplifying the magic they traded. “Will you? And what will you ask of me in exchange?”

  “Nothing!”

  “I’d accuse anyone else of lying. But you… from you I believe it. I may not understand why you want to aid me, but I know you do. You are a very strange creature, unlike fey or man.”

  “I know.” Frolic struggled to use his voice. Even Tom knew he didn’t belong. He didn’t belong anywhere. Why had he been made? Had his sole purpose been to control the clockwork angels, and if so, with those angels destroyed by the faerie gentleman, where did that leave him? Useless, unnecessary, and wrong?

  “You’re in a great deal of pain,” Tom noted without sympathy but with a hint of interest in his voice.

  “Maybe you can do something for me,” Frolic proposed. “But only if you want to. I’ll help you even if you refuse. I won’t enter into any sort of bargain. If you help me, you have to do so as a friend.”

  Tom ran his fingertips over the back of Frolic’s hand. It felt very pleasant. “What would you ask of me, Frolic?”

  “Can you help me understand?”

  “Understand what?”

  Frolic didn’t know how to explain it. He looked up at the sky and saw the clouds pushed slowly along by the light wind. The wind, clouds, and even the light had names he hadn’t known before Querry’s gentleman had used his magic to repair Frolic’s heart. They held a profound significance, but Frolic couldn’t quite grasp it. He closed his eyes, squeezed Tom’s hand, and listened to the swish of the waves. They seemed to speak with the sky, conversing back and forth just beyond Frolic’s comprehension. He sensed an entire, hidden realm beneath the waves, a realm beyond the boundaries of his experience. He sensed, all at once, the humans sweating as they toiled on the deck, talking about their midday meal or singing songs to soften their drudgery, and the Other Place existing beside it, beneath it, around it, and overlapping it. Everything lived and sang and spoke, yet Frolic stood outside all of it, neither man nor magic, but not fortunate enough to be a simple machine with a singular, irrefutable function.

  “I see.” Tom kissed Frolic’s hand before releasing it.

  “Can you help me understand what it all means?”

  “Possibly. You must understand, I’ve never lived a moment without the voices of the wind and sea. Imagine not being able to understand language when your friends spoke to you. You can’t. Nor can I comprehend the absence of their song. Still, if I am in a mood to sometime, I might speak with you further. There’s precious little else to do on this slow, slovenly human transport. May I have this?” Tom caught the indigo ribbon about Frolic’s neck between his thumb and finger and rubbed his pads over the silk in tight little circles.

  As soon as Frolic nodded, he grasped the end, pulled the knot loose, and rubbed the ribbon against his cheek. The way his eyes fluttered shut reminded Frolic of his lovers in their most intimate and beautiful moments. His heart glowed a little warmer as he regarded the fey.

  Finally, Tom slipped the cord into his pocket with a satisfied smile. “Can you get me more of these?”

  “Probably,” Frolic answered, too perplexed to even try to fathom it. Then again, Querry and Reg said the sea glass he loved held no value, so maybe Tom’s desire for ribbon wasn’t so ludicrous. Only people could assign value to objects; nothing held intrinsic worth. To a starving man, bread was more precious than gemstones or gold.

  “Yes,” he said and nodded once. “I’ll get them if I can. Not to trade, but because I want you to have them. Everyone should have beautiful things, things they love. And maybe you’ll choose to help me too.”

  “We shall see.” Tom leaned in and kissed Frolic at the outer corner of his eyebrow. “We’ll talk again, at any rate. You’re much less tedious than the rest of these dirty, ignorant fools. Go on, now. I’m sure your friends have had time to accomplish everything they endeavored to do.”

  Without another word, the fey turned and walked gracefully away, his movements as perfect and beautiful as a spray of sea grass bending and swaying beneath the surf.

  AS SOON as he saw Querry and Frolic lead Lord Starling and his fey away, Reg retrieved his shirt from the rail and slipped it on, fastening the buttons as he hurried toward the door to Starling’s cabin. He couldn’t help but feel everyone knew what he planned and watched him. Nor could he understand how Querry and Frolic took any pleasure in such risk. He
felt like he’d be sick, and his hand shook so hard he barely managed to open the door.

  Being alone in Starling’s chamber, with the heavy door between him and the eyes of the others, made Reg feel a little bit better. He took a deep breath and approached the desk. Papers and maps littered the surface, covering it completely, all out of order. Several empty wine bottles weighted them down. Reg desperately wanted a look at the documents, as they probably held some clues to their destination, but he knew he didn’t have time, so he went to the top drawer on the left-hand side, where he’d seen Starling stash the contract. It didn’t budge an inch when Reg pulled on the ornate, brass handle. Reg swore under his breath.

  Locked, of course.

  Reg fumbled in his trouser pocket until he located the key Querry had given him, a skeleton key he’d called it, capable of opening most simple locks. Of course, they had no time for Querry to teach Reg to pick locks. According to him, it was a complex and subtle art. Reg didn’t want to learn, anyway. Just this once, he’d do what he had to liberate his friends from Starling’s grasp, but he didn’t want to be a thief. Ever. He had little memory of his parents or their instructions, so he could only assume they’d been the ones to impart morality to him. Unlike his companions, Reg couldn’t justify stealing by telling himself his victim had enough, or wouldn’t miss it. But he’d spent many years enjoying the ill-gotten fruits of Querry’s labors: drinks, meals, baubles, and blissful nights in inns away from the watchful eyes of his adoptive parents. He’d been content to let Querry brave the danger and sully himself while Reg had savored the profits without objection. God, I never complained about anything Querry did. Seeking solace from his stress and conflict, Reg drifted into those sweet memories. Querry had been so beautiful as a young man: lank and slender, his limbs and torso stretching faster than he could fill them out with his lack of good, regular meals. He’d been all bones, wiry muscle, and burning, blue eyes and coal-black hair, his skin pale and creamy from his nocturnal lifestyle and the Halcyon smog blocking the sun. Reg had never met anyone so demanding and giving at once—