“We were there!” Reedis exclaimed.
“Well, why didn’t you catch him?”
“We didn’t see him, sire, we were overwhelmed by the crowd,” Ford explained.
“So were my guards,” the prince grumbled.
The two newly knighted royals exchanged looks: they both wondered how hard the guard looked and whether the soldiers were as well-rewarded as Ford’s sailors.
“What do you desire of us, my prince?” Ford said, going down on one knee.
The prince wiggled his fingers in indication that Ford should stand. “Do?” the prince said. “Why find her, of course! Kill her and show her the King’s justice!”
“Don’t you mean show her the King’s justice and then kill her?” Reedis asked.
“I meant what I said!” the prince roared, waving them away. “And don’t come back until she’s dead!”
Chapter Nine: Meeting The Mechanical
“Well, that was a help,” Reedis muttered when they were safely back on the street. “What do we do now?”
“Can you use magic to track her?” Ford asked.
The mage shook his head. “I’m a wizard of hot —”
“— and cold magic,” Ford finished in unison with him, shaking his head bitterly. “So we’ll have to see what we can do on our own.” He started walking.
“Where are we going?”
“Back to the ship,” Ford said. “At least we’ll get a cup of tea.”
“We’ll have to get more water first,” Reedis warned.
Ford shrugged agreement and picked up his pace, noting sourly that the prince hadn’t seen to offer them horses for the ride back. “Perhaps Knox will have an idea.”
Knox did, indeed, have an idea. He helped them get water and make tea and the three sat at the small table in Ford’s captain’s quarters.
“That apprentice, didn’t he seem shifty?”
“He did,” Ford agreed, worried that he would find himself making another trip out of town. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, he mentioned the mechanical, Ibb, didn’t he?”
Ford nodded.
“So, you know this Ibb, don’t you sir?”
“Are you suggesting we talk with him?” Ford guessed. He grimaced as he mulled the notion over then knocked back his cup in one gulp and rose. “Come along then, let’s see what Ibb knows.”
“He’s a mechanical?” Reedis asked, rising himself and looking worried.
“He is,” Ford said. “Many people don’t associate with him because he worships a different god. They say the mechanicals were an ancient people who decided that they could cheat the Ferryman by transferring their souls into the cold cogs and gears of machines rather than frail flesh.”
“What’s he look like?” Reedis asked.
“His soul is in a tall, stocky metal body topped with a metal head that seems a mixture of gold and brass, with cogs, and two glowing red gems for eyes. He’s got metal eyebrows, too.” Ford shrugged. “His voice is deep, like it comes from a cave, but after a while you don’t notice.”
“How long have you known him?”
“I knew him from years ago when he first came here,” Ford said. “In fact, we rescued him when my ship, the Sprite, took the corsair that had captured him. He helped us by giving us a list of improvements for our rigging — we got three knots more speed after that.”
“Ah!” Reedis said, encouraged. “So he’s in your debt.”
“I’d count him more a friend than a debtor,” Ford said as they made their way back onto the street. Ford set a good clip.
“Mechanical men have peculiar loyalties,” Reedis said cautiously.
Ford raised an eyebrow. “Swindled one, did you?”
“Sir Ford! I must protest your language!”
“Well, how else do you describe that fire box that so infuriated your late benefactor?”
“Fire box?” Knox asked, glancing between the two. “And why does he call you Sir Ford, sir?”
“The King seems to have a particularly dark sense of humor,” Ford explained. He pointed to Reedis. “He knighted us last night.”
“Knighted!” Knox exclaimed. A moment later, he said shrewdly, “And did he pay you by any chance, captain?”
“As I said,” Ford replied, shaking his head, “he has a dark sense of humor.”
“So the lads were right,” Knox said to himself.
“I don’t know about that, boatswain,” Ford said. “We’re not due our wages ‘til the end of the month and that’s a fortnight yet.”
“There’s much that can happen in a fortnight,” the boatswain muttered darkly.
“Bad and good,” Ford reminded him. They entered a broad street and he picked up the pace.
Minutes later they turned down a side street and came to a well-appointed but old building. Ford strode forward and wrapped on the door, calling loudly, “Open up, you clanker! We got questions for you!”
“Just a moment!” a mechanical voice called back. Ford glanced at the others and crossed his arms, waiting. Some moments later, the door opened and the mechanical man gestured them inside.
Knox came in slowly but Ford rushed in, going from one thing to the next, rushing about the room in excitement. Reedis, inspired by the captain, was no less inquisitive.
“What have you been doing lately?” Ford asked, slapping a hand — carefully — on the metal man’s shoulder. He’d sprained his wrist years back so he knew that the metal was hard and unyielding.
“Many things,” Ibb replied. “I heard you are flying an airship these days.” The mechanical man clanked as he shook his head. “I think you were safer on the sea.”
“Aye, safer!” Ford agreed heartily. “We lost Havenam. You remember him, my young midshipman from all those years back?”
“Is he still young?” Ibb asked. “And a — a mid-ship-man?”
“He’s dead,” Ford said sourly. “A dragon toppled him from the tops of the balloons and he fell to his death.”
“That is sad.” Ibb said, his voice emotionless. Ford knew that the mechanical had trouble with emotions, having not had any for hundreds of years or more.
“It is,” Ford said. “His widow cursed me when I brought his body home.”
“Was it a good curse?”
“The words were powerful,” Reedis spoke up for the first time, “but she hasn’t a drop of magic in her.”
Ibb rotated to look at Reedis. “And you are?”
“I’m sorry, where are my manners?” Ford apologized. Before he could continue, Ibb said, “I do not know. Have you misplaced them?”
“Probably,” Knox muttered, his eyes dancing with amusement. To Ford he said, “I’d forgotten what a corker Mr. Ibb is!”
“This is mage Reedis,” Ford said, ignoring the boatswain. “He is responsible for the hot and cold magic that raises the airship.”
“And Mr. Newman is responsible for the air propellers that move it,” Ibb said, nodding gravely. A moment later, he asked, “And where is Mr. Newman?”
“Cursing his luck,” Knox said in a low voice.
Ford ignored him. “He is well and with the ship, my Spite.”
“I thought your ship was named Sprite,” Ibb said.
“It was, until the King took it into service,” Ford said. “Then she was renamed.”
“A good practice,” Ibb said. “Although there are air sprites, I’m given to understand that this ship is to be the spite of flying fire beings.”
“Indeed,” Ford said. “Which leads me to our journey here.”
“How so?”
“We shot a wyvern,” Ford explained. “The dragon we were shooting at got away, after killing poor Havenam.”
“Only we didn’t find a wyvern’s body when we went looking,” Knox spoke up. “We found a woman�
��s body.”
“Did you find her in a field of wyvern flowers?” Ibb asked.
“Why?” Ford said, his brows narrowing. “Do you know something of this?”
“I know that wyverns like to die in wyvern flowers,” Ibb said. “And that they’re twin-souled, part human, part soul of fire.” He turned slowly, first toward the back door and then around to them. “I could inquire of more.”
“What can we tell you?”
Ibb clanked backwards a step, then moved to the right, reaching for something by the door. Ford followed him with his eyes and saw a coat rack with an umbrella sticking up. The mechanical reached for it.
“I would not inquire of you,” Ibb said, moving toward the door. “I would inquire of those more knowledgeable, naturally.”
His progress was interrupted by another loud knocking on his door. “Open up! In the King’s name!”
Ibb turned to Ford. “What is this?”
“There was a theft, the prince’s amulet and jewels were stolen,” Ford said. “They’re looking for it.”
“Indeed!” Ibb said. “They will doubtless impede my journey.” He gestured toward the back door. “Perhaps you will not want to handle this delay. If you go that way, please open the barrel just by the door.”
“What’s in it?” Knox asked.
“Something to persuade guests not to linger,” the mechanical replied. Ibb started rumbling in the rusty noise that was his version of a laugh.
Ford smiled at him and nodded. “We’ll be on our way then.”
“Safe journey!”
“And more knowledge,” Ford said, completing the farewell of the mechanicals. The three moved to the back and, at Ford’s gesture, Knox lifted the lid on the small bucket by the door. Instantly, he turned a horrible shade of green and rushed past them out the door.
#
“What was that?” Ford asked as he joined Knox and Reedis safely away from the horrid smell.
“I don’t know,” Knox said. “Smelled like someone vomited something horrible.” He shuddered. “I think I saw a bit of eel, too.”
Through the back door they heard someone bellow: “What is that, it smells awful!”
“Something I’ve been working on,” Ibb’s mechanical voice replied. “Gentlemen, let us move this conversation outside, or soon the fumes will become toxic for your lungs.”
Ford smiled and gestured to the others. “Come on, let’s go!”
“Where to, sir?” Knox asked.
“We’re going to the goal, of course,” Ford said.
“Whatever for?”
“To pick up more crew, no doubt,” Reedis muttered darkly.
Ford raised a hand. “I’m hoping it won’t come to that.”
Catching the look of relief on Knox’s face, he added in vile humor, “Perhaps we’ll just get some stokers for Mr. Newman.” He was rewarded with a look of ill-repressed horror from the boatswain.
“If not crew, then what, Sir Ford?” Reedis asked.
“Answers,” Ford replied. He picked up his pace forcing the others to follow in silence.
The jail was in turmoil with guards clattering about, seeming in great spirits.
“What is it?” Ford asked as they approached.
“For a penny, I’ll tell you,” a small child said, approaching with a hand held out.
“For less, my mage will freeze you to death,” Ford growled. He’d been dealing with urchins all his life, having started out as one himself.
The small child’s eyes widened in horror as she took in Ford’s expression, saw the purple robes of the mage and the rough features of the boatswain.
“They - they caught the thief,” the child said, pointing toward the jail. “Caught him in the inn, of all places! The madame turned him in!”
Ford frowned, reached into his pocket but, before he could pull a penny as a reward, the child scampered off as quick as her thin legs could take her.
“What now?” Reedis asked. “They’ve caught the prince’s thief.”
“We still have to find the girl,” Ford said darkly. He headed to the jail. “We should talk with the thief.”
“And scout for crew,” Reedis muttered.
“Possibly,” Ford said. He asked the mage, “How soon could you lift the ship again?”
“I’m ready enough now,” Reedis said. “Although there’s one thing I’d like to do, first.” Ford gave him an inquiring look. Reedis glanced briefly to the boatswain before replying, “That little project you mentioned.”
“Oh! Oh, yes!” Ford said. “It might be useful.” He gestured to jail. “This first, I think.”
The King’s Jail was a musty stone building set at the worst part of the dockyards. Ford had known it of old and avoided it as much as he could.
“What do you want?” the guard at the gate asked them in surly tones.
“Respect, for a King’s knight, for one,” Reedis replied, drawing himself up to his full height.
“For two,” Ford said, his lips twitching as he pointed to himself.
“Captain Ford?” the guard said, brows narrowing.
“It’s Captain Sir Ford these days,” Ford corrected airily.
“I’d heard you’d gone and blown away in a gale,” the guard said.
“I blew back again, Sykes,” Ford said, his tone becoming harder. “You’ve prisoners and I’ve a writ from the prince to inspect them.”
“A writ?” the guard repeated. He glanced at Reedis and Knox, whom he recognized with a nod. Knox responded with a growl of intense dislike. “Well, I suppose that’s all right then,” Sykes said. “I’ll need a shilling from each of you.”
“You’ll need to hope the mage doesn’t get in a temper and boil your skin off your worthless bones,” Ford snapped, moving past the guard as though he didn’t exist.
Sykes took a step backwards frightened, eyeing the mage warily. “H-he could do that?” he asked Knox.
“Worse,” Knox replied striding past.
The three stopped a pace later, their hands going to their noses.
“You get used to the stench!” Sykes called to their backs in grim humor. “We don’t call them the scum of the earth without reason, you know!”
“Come on,” Ford said, regretting the breath the words required of him. Having breathed, and finding that he could still breathe, regardless of the foul odors which assailed him — worse than Ibb’s bucket of vomit — he called to Sykes, “Where’s the thief?”
“Second on the left!” Sykes called back. “We keep the ones the King wants to hang close by the door.”
A shape darted to the bars as they approached and Ford thought the look on the thief’s face was eager, expectant almost, until he saw them.
“Who are you?” the thief growled. “What do you want?”
“Manners, at least,” Knox rasped back, drawing his dirk and banging it, flat-bladed against the thief’s fingers wrapped around the bars. The thief was too quick and jerked back with snake-like speed, leaving Knox’s weapon to clatter loudly against the metal.
The thief smiled at Knox’s discomfort. “You have to have manners, first, dog.” He glanced toward Ford without recognition but his eyes flared as he took in Reedis’ purple robes and he slammed against the bars once more. “You! Murderer!”
“What?” Reedis said, stepping back in surprise.
“You burn and you freeze,” the thief said. He laughed bitterly. “I saw what you did at the tavern. You can be sure I put a fix to that.”
“What?” Reedis said again.
“What are you?” Ford said, his eyes narrowing as he examined the thief carefully, as though looking for something else.
“Nothing your ears will hear,” the thief snarled lowly. He cocked his head at Ford, considering. “Are you the captain, then?”
“Captain Sir Ford commands the king’s airship, and you’d best not forget that,” Knox said supportively.
“Ah! So it was you who killed her,” the thief said.
“What’s your name?” Ford asked conversationally. “I’d like us to at least speak civilly.”
“My name is Jarin and I’ve no need to speak to you,” the thief spat. “I don’t talk to carrion or the dead.”
“The woman in the wyvern field? You knew her?” Ford guessed, startled by the thief’s reference to the dead.
Jarin jerked back as if struck. He was silent for longer than usual before replying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“We’re looking for a girl,” Reedis said. “Have you seen her?”
“I’ve seen many a girl,” Jarin replied with a leer. “You’d have to be more specific.”
“What do you know of wyverns?” Ford said. “Why did you steal the prince’s amulet?”
“Ametza’s bauble?” Jarin replied with a snort. “It means nothing to her, you know. Nor me.”
“So it was the jewels,” Ford guessed. “You stole them.”
“They were owed me and mine,” Jarin said. “I stole nothing.”
“The King thinks differently,” Knox muttered.
“The King thinks that boy is his son,” Jarin snorted. “He is ignorant, lazy, indolent, and soon to lose all that he values.”
“You’ll lose your life before that,” Ford said, although noting that no one would gainsay his words.
“I shall dance on your grave,” Jarin said, eyes glinting. “I am just waiting —” he cut himself off and shook his head. “I’m tired, I shall rest now.” He turned away from them and went to one of the dark corners of his cell.
“Come on,” Ford said, “we’ll get no more from him.” He motioned them to move on. “We need to inspect the others that are here.”
“For crew?” Knox asked in astonishment.
“At least we know where they are,” Ford said mildly, moving toward the back of the jail.
They spent another twenty minutes in the jail. Ford identified four men he’d known of old — they were good workers when sober — and found another eight who might do in a pinch. That left him short four regular crew and four stokers. The thought of continuing the search in that horrid stench was too much for him and he jerked his head back to the entrance in a wordless order. Neither Reedis nor Knox objected.
Twin Soul Series Omnibus 1: Books 1-5 (Twin Soul Series Book Sets) Page 11
