“Pretty, pretty, pretty boy,” Dante said. “Beer and crackers.”
When Thad reached the corner, the scarlet figure resolved itself into a woman in a hooded cloak of rich scarlet velvet, unfashionable but not unheard-of. The hood covered the upper half of her face, and an untouched glass of something red sat on the small table in front of her. She had an actual chair instead of a bench, and a matching chair waited across from her. The noise of the tavern seemed to die away as Thad gingerly sat down. He had talked to his share of women in taverns elsewhere, but these circumstances were definitely odd. They were also intriguing.
“Pretty, pretty, pretty,” Dante said again.
“Miss Ekk?” Thad put out a hand, half ready to snatch it back.
“I am that woman.” She shook hands. Her palm was smooth and soft. Thad wondered if she expected him to kiss the back, but he didn’t. Instead, he set his elbow on the table and let Dante walk down his arm. Dante did get heavy after a while. The parrot waddled over to investigate the unlit candle. Gears creaked uneasily through bare spots where brass feathers were missing or broken, and the bottom half of his beak was off-center, as if Dante had flown through a tornado and only barely lived to tell about it.
“I am thrilled you decided to come, Mr. Sharpe,” the woman said. Her English carried a Russian accent, and her voice was low and powerful.
“I’m a little surprised to find someone like you in a place like this, Miss Ekk,” Thad countered. His eyes flickered up and down her form, trying to assess her, but she wasn’t moving and the damned cloak hid everything. He couldn’t even tell how old she was.
“Someone like me?”
He gestured at the tavern. More than one person was still staring in their direction. Normally it would have made him more nervous, but right now he found it reassuring to have other eyes on him. “Proper females don’t go to bars in the Polish-Lithuanian Union. Or in Russia. They stay behind closed doors and do proper female things.”
“Rules are for people who think little, Mr. Sharpe. People like us, we think large. That is why I wished to meet you.”
“In a tavern with the name You’ll be third?” Thad brandished the card.
“I believe the name shows that the place is very popular—there are always two people ahead of you waiting to be served. The name fits, no?”
“It’s also the Lithuanian way of saying your luck will turn for the worse,” Thad spat. “Did you think I didn’t know?”
Sofiya laughed quietly. “You are not superstitious. You use scientific knowledge. You know from experience how the clockwork plague works, for example. These people,” she gestured at the room, “think the plague comes from the devil. They think that when someone catches the disease and it turns him into a shambling mound of flesh that wanders through the streets, feeding on garbage until his brain rots away, that God meant it as a punishment. And they think that when the disease makes someone into a clockworker who creates glorious and impossible inventions—”
“—and goes mad and does horrible things to innocent to people,” Thad put in.
“Doom, destruction, death, despair,” said Dante. “Doom!”
“Shut it,” Thad ordered.
“They think this also is a punishment from God,” Sofiya finished as if no one had spoken. “Their Church tells them so. But we know it is nothing more than a disease that acts as a disease must.”
“The plague is a curse, and the faster we eradicate everything connected with it, the better,” Thad spat. He found his left hand was shaking, and he forced it to still.
“I told you we think large,” Sofiya said with a nod. “And I am glad to see that you can react as a human being, Mr. Sharpe.”
Thad clenched his teeth. “Why are we talking about this? What do you care about the clockwork plague?”
“You have caught my interest, Mr. Sharpe. You are a very interesting person to very many people. Very interesting.”
That set off several small alarm bells inside his head.
“I don’t want to offend,” Thad said, now with careful control in every syllable, “but I feel I should point out that the parrot, which has moved to a strategic spot on the table less than eight inches in front of you, can deliver more than two thousand pounds of pressure from the business end of that sharp beak, more than enough pressure to slice open your windpipe. I also have a knife on a spring-load that can open up an artery so quick, you won’t even know you’re dead before the blade is clean and back up my sleeve. Finally, all those men over there, the ones you were scorning as small-thinking peasants a moment ago, seem to like me quite a lot, and I think they would be very upset if anyone tried something foolish.”
“Such a mental condition you have,” Sofiya tutted. “I believe the English word is paranoia.”
His muscles were growing tight with tension. The situation was unusual. Thad didn’t like unusual. It was too much like hunting clockworkers. But tension made fights difficult. He forced himself to relax. “I deal with clockworkers all the time. One can never be too paranoid.”
“As you like, Mr. Sharpe. But I do not have a wish to harm you.” From the folds of her cloak, she produced a small purse, which she dropped on the table. It clinked. “I wish to hire you.”
That got Thad’s attention fast, though he made no move to touch the purse. “Dante.”
The parrot expertly tore the purse open, revealing the glint of silver and gold coins, a generous offering. “Pretty, pretty, pretty,” he said, plucking a coin from the pile with a claw and bending it in half with his beak.
Thad didn’t relax his guard. “People don’t usually hire me to kill clockworkers. They usually beg me, and I’m usually happy to oblige. Why offer me money?”
“You may do with the clockworker as you wish. It means nothing to me. I want—or rather, my employer wants—something else entirely. That is why we are offering you money.”
Now Thad leaned back in the hard chair. “Your employer?”
“I represent a third party. He does not go out in public and needs people to do for him. He heard you were traveling with the Kalakos Circus these days, and when they came to Vilnius, he asked me to arrange for your employment.”
“I’m not seeking long-term—”
“This is a single piece of work,” Sofiya interrupted. “And it is exactly what you do.”
“Money, money,” Dante said. “Pretty money.” He reached for another coin. Thaddeus absently moved the purse out of his reach and took a pull from his beer.
“You can see my face,” he said. “I would like to see yours. So I know who I’m dealing with.”
Without hesitation, Sofiya cast back her scarlet hood. Golden hair spilled across her shoulders and clear blue eyes looked out over finely molded features and a sharp chin. The small scar that ran along her left jawline was the only flaw to her beauty. Thad didn’t outwardly react, though inwardly he caught his breath. Such sweet loveliness ran a sharp contrast to the dull tavern and its sour drinks—and brought up bitter memories.
“Thank you.” His voice stayed carefully neutral. “Who’s your employer, if you please?”
“He is a person who hires people like me so he does not need to give his name.” Sofiya straightened her thick cloak. It must have been stifling in the heat of the tavern, but she showed no signs of sweating. “You usually kill clockworkers for no money at all, so I would have thought the prospect of having some would be an encouragement, no?”
“I just like to know what’s going on,” Thad replied.
“Darkness, despair, death,” Dante squawked. “Darkness.”
Sofiya ignored him. “I will tell you. There is a castle ruin approximately half a day’s horseback travel south of Vilnius. A clockworker who calls himself Mr. Havoc has moved into it, fortified it, and made it his own. He is quite brilliant, as all clockworkers are.” She paused to sip from her red glass. Was it wine? She had expensive tastes. “He has already managed many dreadful experiments with machines and men. Th
e village nearby is quite terrified of him, but they lack the weaponry to assault his little fortress.”
“And you want me to go in there and kill him,” Thad finished.
“You are very forthright for such a handsome Englishman,” Sofiya said. “But I have already said that my employer does not care if you kill Mr. Havoc or not. He wants you to deliver a particular machine Mr. Havoc has created.”
“Is that so?” Thad took another pull from his beer mug. The drink was only of middling quality, but it was beer and not gira. “Why doesn’t your employer simply wait him out? The clockwork plague will kill this Mr. Havoc of yours in a couple of years, three at the absolute most.”
“No. My employer needs the invention now. But I see you are reluctant.” She gathered up the purse and made to rise. “I will find someone else, then. Good day, Mr. Sharpe.”
He caught her wrist. The skin was smooth. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it, Miss Ekk. I’m just suspicious of strange circumstances and a secretive employer.”
“The circumstances are this: you have the chance to rid the world of another clockworker, and make a great deal of money in the bargain by delivering one of his inventions to my employer. Will you do it?”
Dante bit the candle in half. “Done, done, done.”
“Done,” Thad said.
“Excellent. The invention is a spider the size of a small trunk. It has ten legs instead of the usual eight, and it has copper markings all over it. You will know it the moment you see it. I would approach the castle from the west. Our employer has information that says the west wall of the castle has an old doorway overgrown with ivy. The castle’s defenses are also weaker in that direction, which is lucky for you—us. That door will get you through the castle wall and into the ruins. After that, you are quite alone.”
“I’m never alone if I have Dante,” Thad replied without a trace of irony.
Sofiya got to her feet. “I have a horse waiting in the back, and a basket of food. The moon is full tonight, so you can see. Take the main road south, then turn west when you reach the village of Juodsilai. The ruins are there. The horse is fast and should reach the castle an hour or two before dawn.”
“What, you want me to leave now? In the middle of the night?”
“Must you make extensive preparations?”
“No.”
“Do you intend to attack Mr. Havoc during daylight, when he can see you coming?”
“No.”
She took him by the arm and hauled him toward the back door. “Then we go now, Mr. Sharpe.”
“Wait a moment.” He came up short. “We?”
“I will come with you, of course.” A grim smile crossed Sofiya’s face. “I am suspicious as well.”
The Dragon Men Page 30
