The White City

by John Claude Bemis

  “It’s just I’m so worried about Hethy,” she said.

  “I’m sure she’s fine, Sally. Conker had healing water. He must have helped her.”

  Sally sniffled, “I shouldn’t have left her behind. I should have trusted her. I wish I had brought her with me. I could have used her help when Quorl started changing. And, Ray. I, well … it’s just … I’ve done things I wish I hadn’t.”

  “Like what?” Ray asked.

  “I forced this poor old tinker to bring me all the way from Iowa to Nebraska.”

  Ray chuckled. “How’d you manage that?”

  “With one of those foot powder charms you told me about.”

  “Not bad,” Ray said, still chuckling.

  After a moment, Sally said, “I think I might have done something bad to Mister Nel.”

  Ray felt a chill rise up his neck. “What do you mean?”

  “Do you remember that charm I was reading about in the Incunabula?”

  “You mean when I left?”

  “The Elemental Rose,” Sally whispered. “It was a poem, and I thought I had figured it all out so I could give Mister Nel back his leg. It worked, and he has his powers back. And I was so glad, because I knew that meant I could save Father too. But there was a line in the poem I ignored. I didn’t understand.”

  Ray frowned, waiting for Sally to finish.

  “Mother Salagi said Nel’s leg would bring some danger to him. I didn’t understand at the time, but I’ve been thinking about it. And I think I know. Oh, I wish I had thought about it more before I did it, Ray. It was a warning, and I didn’t listen!”

  Ray smoothed Sally’s curls. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’ll all be okay.”

  But Ray felt Sally was right to be afraid for Nel. He remembered back to the night he found Jolie and Hethy during the battle at the Wolf Tree. That agent, just before he died, had laughed, saying the Gog knew about Shuckstack. How Shuckstack had been discovered, Ray couldn’t imagine. He had half hoped the agent had been bluffing. But now he felt a cold fear, that this must be the danger Mother Salagi had seen.

  The Gog was coming for Nel. And if Nel was in danger, then so were the children of Shuckstack.

  Hours seemed to pass, but to Ray it just as easily could have been days for all the endless walking in the howling dark. Soon the faint light of dawn began to illuminate their surroundings. Li’l Bill stopped. “We have reached the trunk of the Great Tree.”

  Quorl was sniffing. “Yes, we can descend from here to my pack. I will lead us down.”

  Ray looked over the edge of the branch. Below, wispy clouds drifted around the trunk, and far beyond, the prairie spread out in every direction.

  With the golden light of dawn spilling over the land, Quorl led them in a circling path down the trunk. Descending, descending, down the strange stairway fashioned from the bark of the Wolf Tree. When they seemed a mile from the ground, Ray spied wolves—the rougarou—trotting around the roots and a girl he knew must be Hethy.

  Jolie turned to Ray. “We still have a long way to go to Chicago, and even when we arrive, how will we ever find Conker?”

  Ray considered this as they continued. Soon he stopped and took out the toby.

  Jolie watched him as Quorl lead the others across a narrow chasm of bark. Ray took the dandelion in his fingers. He clapped his hands three times, blew three breaths on the yellow flower, and called out, “Peter Hobnob—Peter Hobnob—Peter Hobnob.”

  Jolie gave a curious smile as the yellow eroded from the petals into gray wisps. The little seedpods drifted out into the prairie’s wind and disappeared to the east.

  Ray and Jolie descended until they were nearly to the base of the Wolf Tree. Quorl was already at the bottom, speaking urgently to a large black rougarou. But Li’l Bill and Sally waited for Ray and Jolie at the last step. Ray noticed how ghostly his father looked in the sunlight. His hair and beard, his face and clothes were all nearly colorless.

  With Sally tucked against his side, Li’l Bill looked sadly at Ray and Jolie. “I wish this danger was not asked of you children. I wish that I alone could do what is needed to stop the Gog. But my powers are gone, and I can’t leave the Great Tree. I am changed. I’m no longer a part of your world. Here I must remain.”

  “I’ll stay with you, Father,” Sally said.

  Li’l Bill smiled down at her. “Thank you, child. But go on down with the rougarou. Let them tend to you. I can’t. I’ll be here, though, if you want to visit on occasion.” His smile turned grim as he looked at Ray and Jolie. “Good luck to you two in all that lies ahead.”

  “Thank you,” Ray said. “Goodbye, Father. For now. We’ll come back for you.”

  Ray followed Sally and Jolie down to the roots of the Wolf Tree. Sally ran to Hethy, but before Ray and Jolie joined her, Jolie caught Ray’s arm. “You do realize we will not see him again. Or Sally either.”

  Ray looked back up the Wolf Tree, where the faint form of his father watched high above. He wanted to contradict her, to tell her she was letting go of hope, but as Jolie slid her hand into his, he realized what needed to happen. A siren spring had to be formed to save the Wolf Tree. He had to lead Conker into the Gloaming and hold the golden spike over the Machine’s heart.

  Ray watched his father disappear around the trunk. He took Jolie’s hand and walked down the final steps.

  Hope was not in surviving.

  Hope lay in making things right.

  THE NOISE IN THE GALLEY OF THE SNAPDRAGON WAS unbelievable. Sitting between Si and Big Jimmie, Conker leaned back against the wall, his stomach distended to an uncomfortable size from the cook Etienne Beauvais’s feast. He poked an elbow into Big Jimmie’s ribs. “You taken on some new crew?”

  The pirate pushed his emptied bowl to the center of the table and gave a gumbo belch. Half-finished platters of lake mussels and pungent cheeses lay precariously close to the edge as dancers and musicians bumped and knocked into one another. While Marisol watched the pirates with astonishment, Redfeather was entertaining a few of them by lighting their pipes and cigars with the flame dancing from the palm of his hand.

  Jimmie looked around at his shipmates. “Who? I don’t think we’ve picked up anybody since you were last on board.”

  Rubbing her thumb over her darkened hand, massaging the missing knuckle and finger, Si gave a nod. “That tall girl with the black hair.”

  Big Jimmie laughed. “That’s Piglet!”

  “What?” Conker said, looking closer at the girl dancing with Hobnob on the far side of the galley. “She sure shot up. Last I saw, she was just a runt of a thing. Greasy braids and a pug nose, from what I recollect.”

  Piglet was still skinny but was now taller, having caught up in height with many of the other pirates. She wore a fine blouse of black silk to match her hair, and men’s woolen britches. A pistol protruded from the back of her belt, and as Hobnob said something to her, she drew it and aimed it at the little thief’s golden head. He waved his hands dismissively, and after some apologizing on his part, Piglet holstered the weapon and continued their dance, leading him around the floor like a rag doll.

  “She’s grown up some,” Big Jimmie said. “The Pirate Queen has taken her under her wing. I suspect she’ll make captain one day, when our lady’s ready to retire to Panama or Bermuda or some such a place.”

  “Where is the Pirate Queen?” Si asked, peering into the thick of the dancers.

  “Haven’t seen her,” Jimmie said. “Come on, Si. You up for another dance?”

  Big Jimmie was on his feet, extending a meaty hand down to Si. She cocked an eyebrow dubiously at his offer but then smirked and followed him. Conker watched a few minutes, listening to the odd tune Mister Lamprey was belting out from behind his button accordion: “Brigand’s Joy.” Several drunken pirates were vying for a dance with Marisol despite the copperhead coiled about her shoulders. To escape the offers, she finally pulled Redfeather awkwardly to the floor. Conker laughed and maneuvered his way out the door.


  As he came up the gangway, the breeze from Lake Michigan was refreshing after the stench of tobacco smoke and armpits that filled the galley below. He peered up at the pilothouse, but the moonlight showed no silhouette in the window.

  The pirates had tried to disguise the Snapdragon by painting it a sunny shade of yellow. From a distance, Conker guessed, it looked like any of the other pleasure boats bobbing in the lake. But standing on deck, he saw that the paint did little to mask the bullet holes and repairs from cannon blasts that the marauding paddle-wheel steamer had acquired over the years.

  Conker continued around the cabin until he reached the foredeck, where he saw the Pirate Queen up at the steamer’s battered bow. Her elbows rested on the railing, one hand holding a glass of claret, the other bringing her cigar languidly to her mouth.

  “My lady,” Conker called.

  She cocked an eye. “Get up here, Conker.”

  Conker gave a wary glance at Rosie, the gnarled alligator shifting at her mistress’s feet. He rounded the Pirate Queen, putting her between the alligator and himself. Conker rested his elbows on the rail and peered out at the shoreline, where the White City shone, casting pearly sparkles across water.

  “I ain’t bothering you, am I?” Conker asked.

  “No,” the Pirate Queen grunted absently.

  “You thinking on Buck?”

  She bit hard on her cigar and said through gritted teeth, “I’m thinking on whether Rosie will choke on Stacker Lee’s clockwork heart when I feed him to her.”

  “How are we going to find him?” Conker asked.

  She blew a silver stream of smoke, dragon-like, from her nose. “If my guess is right, there’s an old acquaintance here at the fair. Going to call in an overdue favor.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Jefferson Jasper. A train robber, a horse thief, the former mayor of several mining towns before they got wise and run him off, as well as the self-proclaimed adopted son to Chief Iron Tail of the Sioux.” The Pirate Queen waved her hand dubiously. “Last I’d heard he’s taken up with Buffalo Bill Cody. His Wild West show is set up just enough outside the Expo grounds so that old cheat Cody doesn’t have to pay the fair owners’ rent.”

  Conker tilted his head to the Pirate Queen. “How can this Jasper help us?”

  “He keeps up with things,” she answered, her mane of red hair fluttering against the bandoleer crossing her shoulders. “He’ll know a thing or two about where the Gog’s headquartered if anyone does. Tomorrow.” She pointed her cigar at Conker. “Go get some rest if you can find a dry bit of deck.”

  Conker returned to the galley to help Redfeather, Marisol, and Si escape the pirate crew’s enthusiastic attention.

  The following afternoon, a rowboat was lowered from the stern for the Pirate Queen, Mister Lamprey, Marisol, Redfeather, Si, and Conker to go ashore. The Pirate Queen wore a green silk dress with a high collar, a tight bodice, puffy shoulders, and a billowing skirt. Si gave Conker a wink, but neither had the nerve to joke with the captain about her fancy attire. Mister Lamprey had adopted a similarly conceived disguise, but his choice, a plaid sack suit, seemed more fitting for a dandy boy than a grown man. He carried a lacquered walking stick.

  As Mister Lamprey took the oars with Conker, the Pirate Queen put a finger to her collar with annoyance. “Put ashore just south of the Expo so we can go on foot around to the Wild West grounds. How you four managed to not be spotted by the Gog’s agents is a miracle. Stick out like geese in a cockfight. Row faster, Lamprey!”

  When they reached the docks Lamprey tied up the boat, and the six set off until they were several blocks into a bustling lakeshore neighborhood. The sidewalks were crowded with tourists making their way to the Expo. As they passed under an elevated train platform, a great coliseum came into view.

  “There it is, my lady,” Mister Lamprey said, pointing with his walking stick.

  “Obviously, Lamprey,” she said, leading the way in long strides ill-suited to a woman in such a dress.

  Murals outside the coliseum depicted side-by-side portraits of Christopher Columbus and Buffalo Bill. The caption below Columbus read, PILOT OF THE OCEAN, 15TH CENTURY—THE FIRST PIONEER, and the one below Cody read, GUIDE OF THE PRAIRIE, 19TH CENTURY—THE LAST PIONEER. A large banner announced in red letters, WELCOME TO BUFFALO BILL’S WILD WEST AND CONGRESS OF ROUGH RIDERS OF THE WORLD.

  The thunder of horses and roar of the crowd within resounded in the street. Tipping his head back to look up at the stadium’s height, Redfeather nearly collided with a couple rounding the corner.

  The Pirate Queen snapped her fingers at him and said, “Quit staring, Sparky, and hurry up.”

  Redfeather frowned, and Marisol whispered “Sparky” with a smirk as she passed him. They entered the back of the coliseum, following an alleyway until they came to a dirt clearing surrounded by a fence. On the other side, an enormous set of elevated tracks ushered in trains filled with tourists to the Expo. Tents and hastily fashioned cabins had been set up around the encampment. Decorated horses were staked together in threes and fours. A dozen or more bison stood soberly in a corral, along with elk and mules and more horses.

  The encampment was also filled with men sitting together in odd assortments, laughing and eating and playing cards. They were Buffalo Bill’s Rough Riders, and their outfits reflected their wide-ranging backgrounds: fringe-shirted cowboys and feather-headdressed Indians; Mexican vaqueros in wide sombreros and simple vests alongside Russian Cossacks and hussars in blue and red military uniforms and tall ornamented busbies; Arab horsemen in long robes and scimitars at their belts as well as South American gauchos in wide-brimmed hats and loose pants tucked into their tall boots.

  The Pirate Queen marched through them all, her head turning as she scanned the hundreds of men. Her gaze fell on a short man with a thin ribbon of gray hair who was prodding his teeth with a toothpick. As the Pirate Queen came toward him, the man dropped his boot heel from the doorway of a cabin and fled to its interior.

  Conker picked up his pace to catch up with her and Lamprey, while Redfeather, Si, and Marisol jogged behind. A commotion was rising from inside the cabin, and as Conker came close to the door, he saw half a dozen men braced against the walls or leaning back in chairs from where they had been eating. They scrambled to draw guns and level them on the Pirate Queen and Lamprey coming through the doorway.

  The Pirate Queen threw up the bustle of her dress and withdrew a pair of fat-barreled guns—too big to be pistols and too small to be cannons. Mister Lamprey held the walking stick up to his shoulder, and as it clicked, Conker realized it was an ingeniously disguised rifle. Si, Marisol, and Redfeather hastily ducked back behind the doorframe.

  The Pirate Queen roared with a manic smile, “I’ll wager our three guns to your six that Mister Lamprey and I come out the better.”

  Five of the men—three cowboys and two Comanche—blanched, eyes wide and guns shaking in their hands. The sixth was a cowboy, a finely dressed man with a wide handlebar mustache and a velvet waistcoat that was cut for a slimmer man. He grinned but didn’t lower his Colt.

  “If Buffalo Bill sees you here, Lorene,” the man said in a slow drawl, “he’ll string us both up.”

  The Pirate Queen said, “Hindsight and soberness will make Cody rethink that threat he left me with. Besides, I’m not here for Cody. I’m calling in a favor, Jasper. You remember that hand of poker?”

  “You’re speaking of Deadwood,” Jasper said with a sneer. “Back in seventy-six. Remember it like it was yesterday.”

  “Then you’ll remember you’d have been shot in the back by that tinhorn if I hadn’t come through for you.”

  Jasper lowered his gun. “I remember.”

  The other men looked less eager to let down their guard, but Jasper waved a hand to them, and the terrified bunch slowly let their pistols fall. The Pirate Queen hiked up her skirt and stuck the guns back in their holsters. Mister Lamprey lowered his walking stick back to the ground,
leaning one hand on it with a jaunty pose.

  As Conker stepped into the room, he saw a stately elder Sioux sitting in the corner, seemingly unperturbed by the proceedings. Si came to Conker’s side, reluctantly followed by Redfeather and Marisol. Jasper called from his chair to Redfeather, “Shut that door behind you before half the world knows we consort with questionable characters.”

  “Aren’t you the pot …,” the Pirate Queen said, pushing a cowboy from his chair and taking a seat before Jasper. She glanced over at the Sioux. He had long silvery hair streaking over his shoulders and a kindly pinch to his face.

  “A pleasure to see you again, Iron Tail,” the Pirate Queen said. “Keeping a good eye on Jefferson?”

  “Always,” Iron Tail said.

  “What’s this favor, Lorene?” Jasper asked. “I’m not getting mixed up with any heist you’re cooking up at the—”

  “You know I wouldn’t trust a half-wit like you with one of my jobs,” she said. “I’m here for information only.” She looked around at the wide-eyed cowboys and Comanche in the room. “Get clear of here!” she snarled with a cock of her thumb.

  Iron Tail remained seated, but the other men pushed to get out the door. When it closed, Jasper glanced up at Conker and then back to the Pirate Queen. “Information, huh? About what?”

  “The Gog,” the Pirate Queen said.

  “I don’t know anything about the Gog. He’s just a Rambler legend.”

  The Pirate Queen shook her head. “His name is G. Octavius Grevol.”

  Jasper blinked sharply. “Mister Grevol?”

  “You’ve heard of him?” she said.

  “Course I have.” Jasper shifted in his seat. “He’s got Burnham and the rest of the fair’s directors under his thumb. I’ve heard strange things about Mister Grevol, but … the Gog? That’s ludicrous. The Gog fell, along with most of the Ramblers, back when John Henry destroyed his Machine.”

  “No, he didn’t,” Conker said. “He survived. And he’s built a new Machine.”

  Jasper smirked and shook his head skeptically. “How would you know?”