The White City

by John Claude Bemis

  “How was the Hound able to track you?” Ray asked.

  Nel clapped a hand to his knee. “My leg. Mother Salagi warned that it was bringing some danger. I realized what it was almost too late. It was a Hoarhound that severed my leg. And once my leg was returned, a connection of sorts remained. Connecting me to the Gog’s Machine. His Hound has infected me in a way. The Gog’s clockwork servants are drawn to me. But I can also feel the Machine, ever so faintly, and it is growing stronger.”

  He smiled gently at the worried faces around him. “Take heart. That is actually good news, because it means Grevol has not yet completed his Machine. And we must hope he still has much more to do before he can unleash his Darkness.”

  “So what happened to the Hound?” Redfeather asked.

  “I destroyed it, but mind you it was not easy.” Nel plucked his briar-wood pipe from his soaking-wet jacket. “And I escaped from the agents, as they were no longer able to track me. I surmised another Hound would be sent for me and, well, there was only one place to go.” He held out his hands and smiled. “Chicago. And here I am.”

  “And it’s true,” Conker asked, “you made that wave out there that saved us? Your Rambler powers are returned?”

  “I walk as a Rambler once more.” Nel chuckled and stomped his foot. “In more than one way. But it is clear that I cannot stay with you. My presence will attract danger to you all. So quickly tell me before I go everything that has transpired. Leave out not a detail.”

  As the morning continued with a steady chill rain and the group waited for the Pirate Queen’s return, Ray and Buck and Si, Conker and Jolie, Redfeather and Marisol all took turns telling their parts in the long journey. As the story brought Nel to the battle in the lake, Conker sat upright as if remembering something. “I thought I heard that agent tell the Pirate Queen to give over the Nine Pound Hammer.”

  “I heard him say that too,” Si said, sitting up straighter. “Why would they think we’d have the real hammer?”

  “Maybe they don’t know the hammer I took from the Gog’s hall was a fake,” Conker said.

  “But that would mean …,” Redfeather began, his eyes blinking rapidly. “What does it mean?”

  Ray said, “It means the Gog might not have the real Nine Pound Hammer.”

  “Then who does?” Nel asked. All eyes shifted around to one another, hoping someone would have the answer.

  Buck rose from where he had been resting on the ground and staggered to the log by Nel’s side. “I was there when Stacker gave the Nine Pound Hammer to Grevol,” he said in his gravelly voice. “I could feel its presence. It was the real hammer. But then later, when I was escaping Grevol’s hall, I tried to go back for the hammer, to where the agents had said it was displayed, but I couldn’t feel it.”

  “So somebody switched the real hammer for the fake one,” Conker said.

  “Who would do that?” Ray asked.

  “The Gog can sense intent and truth in people,” Buck said. “He knew things about me. With that stick he carries. But not from Stacker. When Stacker brought me to the Gog, I got the feeling that Grevol could not draw truth from Stacker Lee.”

  “He has strange powers,” Jolie agreed.

  Buck wheezed, “Only Stacker could hide something from the Gog. Stacker must have the Nine Pound Hammer. He must have hidden it somewhere.”

  “Why would he do that?” Ray asked.

  A grim smile appeared on Buck’s face, and then he broke into a ripping cough. Nel put his hand to Buck’s back as the cowboy doubled over. When the cough had settled, Buck sat up weakly and wiped his knuckles across his lips. “There’s only one reason why,” Buck said. “To redeem himself.”

  Conker snarled, “That killer has no desire for goodness. After what he did to Si!”

  “Buck, are you all right?” Jolie interrupted, leaning toward the cowboy.

  Buck stared at his hand. Slowly he brought it down to rest in his lap. Black oily blood was speckled across his palm.

  When night fell, the Pirate Queen returned. They gathered their scant belongings and set out under the cover of dark. Buck would not allow Conker to carry him but walked at Nel’s side for support. Ray looked back to see the Pirate Queen kneeling to plant a kiss on Rosie’s nose before the alligator waddled out into the lake. She would give some poor fisherman a fright, Ray thought.

  When they reached the neighborhoods south of Jackson Park, the Pirate Queen stopped. “This avenue leads all the way to Buffalo Bill’s coliseum. It’s a wet night and not many on the street, but there will still be plenty turning out for Cody’s show. We spread out. Going just a few at a time so we won’t draw notice. Blend in with the crowds when you can. When you go in the main entrance, say to the ticket collector that you’re Buffalo Bill’s ‘special guests.’ He’ll know what that means and show you where to go. Got it?”

  The Pirate Queen checked her pistol, drew back her cloak, and holstered it. “I’ll lead the first group. Buck, you and Conker and Old Joshua come with me.”

  After the first group had left, Ray waited with the others in a wet corner of the park. Streetcars and carriages clattered on the avenue nearby. The few people strolling home in the damp carried umbrellas or newspapers over their heads. Ray was eager to get somewhere dry, eager for a hot meal, but then what?

  Every ten minutes or so, another group of three or four set out up the avenue. “Ray,” Nel said, coming to his side and draping an arm over his shoulder. “You’ve done fantastically, my boy.”

  “Thank you,” Ray said, watching Hobnob set out with Si and a couple of other pirates.

  Nel lowered his voice. “I won’t be coming with you.”

  Ray nodded bleakly. “Where will you go?”

  “I’ve got something I need to locate. Something that will be critical for us to face the Gog. Redfeather and Marisol are coming with me. I need their assistance.” Nel nodded to the pair. “They are proving to be quite capable, don’t you think?”

  Ray looked up to see the two talking to each other in the dark a short distance away. Redfeather was hiding his tomahawk beneath his coat as Marisol caressed Javidos at her throat. They had changed so much from the bickering pair he had endured crossing the prairie. Ray saw Redfeather lean forward and whisper something. Marisol laughed.

  Ray smiled before turning his gaze back to Nel. “You don’t want me to come with you?”

  Nel lifted a crooked finger. “There is little time left, I fear. Locate Stacker Lee. If Buck is right, he must have the Nine Pound Hammer. I urge you to remember he cannot be trusted. He’s dangerous. He’s a killer. But he is our last hope.”

  “Then at last we’ll be able to destroy the Machine,” Ray said, his words filled with more confidence than his heart contained.

  “It will take more than driving your spike into the Machine’s heart to stop the Gog,” Nel said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Mother Salagi has helped me comprehend the Gog’s full nature.” Nel took his arm from Ray’s shoulder and stepped before him. “You know what the Magog is?”

  “The Machine. It’s the Gog’s soul.”

  “Yes, but more than that. The Magog is a being. A demonic force of eternal darkness. Many men over time have bartered their souls for the Magog. To be possessed by this being gives them great power and ultimately ushers forth great evil.”

  “Why didn’t my father and John Henry kill the Magog when they destroyed Grevol’s first Machine?” Ray asked.

  “The Magog cannot be killed. It cannot die. But only its servant the Gog can carry out its evil. So even if you and Conker manage to destroy the Machine, Grevol can build a new Machine to house his possessor.”

  “So the Gog must be killed as well,” Ray said. “That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”

  Nel nodded, his heavy lids covering his eyes in shadow. “Grevol senses my presence. I can use this to distract him. To draw attention from you and Conker while you go into the Gloaming. I will be checking in with Ho
bnob. Send word with him when you are ready.”

  Ray’s eyes were wide. “Then what?”

  “I alone must face the Gog,” Nel said. “I must destroy him.”

  Redfeather and Marisol approached. “We should go, Nel,” Redfeather said.

  Nel put a hand to Ray’s shoulder, and a careworn smile broke on his face. “Much depends on us, Ray. We face what no others can. We are Ramblers, after all.”

  He turned and pulled his collar up as he headed back into the trees. Redfeather and Marisol looked at Ray, and then they too were gone.

  Ray and Jolie followed Mister Lamprey and Piglet up the avenue. They were the last to leave. “Nearly there,” Mister Lamprey said. His cane clicked on the paving stones, and Ray saw the pirate’s finger tapping the button that transformed the cane into a rifle. Piglet looked around cautiously as she walked hunched against the rain with a hand beneath her coat.

  An enormous arena rose up on the next block. The four crossed the street, going under the elevated train tracks just as a train full of tourists rumbled overhead. They joined the back of the line waiting to get into Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show. When at last they entered the warmth of the lobby and came to the ticket booth, Mister Lamprey said, “We’re special guests of Buffalo Bill.”

  The plump, ivory-haired man adjusted his monocle and snapped a finger. “Gilley.”

  A freckle-faced young man in a white pearl-buttoned cowboy shirt stepped from around the corner and said, “Right this way, folks.” Piglet cast a glance over her shoulder and flashed Ray and Jolie a grin.

  Gilley led them up a narrow stairwell winding up several flights until they came to a landing. They were at the uppermost level of the coliseum’s interior. Ray looked down at the huge circular floor below, scattered with straw. The show had not yet started, and as the crowd filled the wooden bleachers, a regiment of hussar soldiers in full uniform paraded their horses for preshow entertainment. A small mock Indian village of several teepees was erected to one side, with Buffalo Bill’s performers—men and women in Sioux attire—seeming to carry on their daily lives on the plains despite the din of the crowd filling the coliseum.

  “Come on,” Gilley said. He led Ray and Jolie along the balcony. Men operating mirrored gas-lamp spotlights watched as the four passed. A door was cracked at the far end of the narrow passage, and Ray heard the Pirate Queen’s bellowing laugh.

  Gilley stopped and motioned to the door, backing against the hewn timber of the railing. “Just in there,” he said, tipping his cowboy hat to Piglet and Jolie as they squeezed past.

  As he entered, Ray was struck by the stench of the soaking-wet pirates scattered around the room, sitting on crates and bundles of fabric. Lanterns hung from the rafters above what seemed a storage area for the show. The Pirate Queen stood in the center, talking to Mister Jasper and a tall man wearing an outlandish costume of bright silk and fringed doeskins. His long, neatly combed hair fell over his shoulders from beneath his chestnut-colored cowboy hat. A dark mustache curled across his lips, but the long goatee hanging to his chest was streaked with silver.

  “A pair of jacks!” he bellowed. “That’s all that stood between me and that steamer of yours. She wouldn’t be lying at the bottom of Lake Michigan if you hadn’t cheated, my dear.”

  “I don’t need to cheat at poker, Bill,” the Pirate Queen said, plucking a cigar from her pocket.

  Buffalo Bill hastened to take a box of matches out of his coat, and striking one to his gleaming boot heel, he held it before the Pirate Queen. She grinned through clenched teeth as she leaned forward and drew several puffs to light the tobacco.

  Bill brought the match down with a flourishing wave to extinguish it. “I must attend to my audience. A few at a time can watch the show from the balcony, but don’t be obvious.”

  “I’m never obvious,” the Pirate Queen said.

  Jasper put a fist to his mouth as he gave a mock cough.

  Buffalo Bill cocked an eyebrow around at the motley party. “How many did you say were coming?”

  “This is all,” Mister Lamprey answered.

  Buffalo Bill gave a low humph and then said to the Pirate Queen, “After the show, meet me and Jasper down in my chambers. I think a few hands are in order. See if we can put bygones behind us.”

  She blew a stream of smoke sideways from her lips. “Looking forward to it, Cody.”

  Then he turned, casting a quick glance around the room at the pirates and drawing a handkerchief up below his nose before sweeping out. Jasper winked at the Pirate Queen before closing the door.

  The Pirate Queen turned to Ray and Conker. Her smile had vanished. “He’ll give us a few days at the most. Then our welcome will draw thin.”

  A few minutes later, a roar rose from the crowd below. The Pirate Queen let a few at a time go out onto the balcony to watch the show. But as Ray waited for his turn, he fell asleep on a folded curtain in the corner and did not wake until late in the night.

  RAY WOKE AS A SQUARE OF MOONLIGHT FROM THE SOLITARY window settled onto his face. The room was droning with snores and snorts. Movement caught his eye—a pale arm and an ankle passing out the doorway. Jolie.

  He rose, careful not to rouse Hobnob and the other pirates piled up around him as he inched across the sleeping bodies. Conker grumbled and rolled over as Ray stepped over him. The Pirate Queen slept atop a table, her arms crossed over her chest and holding pistols. Buck had been given a cot, and his breathing came labored and wet. Si was curled beneath his cot.

  Ray left the door open as he went out onto the balcony. Jolie was not there. He listened until he caught the faint tap-tap of footsteps going down the wooden staircase. As he descended to the lobby, Ray spied Piglet sleeping, her chair tilted back against the main doors. A rifle lay across her lap. He considered waking her, as she was clearly to be on guard duty, but decided Piglet needed rest as much as any of them. Nobody would come through the door without waking her.

  As Ray entered the coliseum, the wide straw-littered floor was cast in moonlight. Looking up at the raised benches and balconies encircling the performance space, he again saw movement and the unmistakable sheen of Jolie’s skin. Ray followed a short set of stairs leading up to the balcony seats, and as he maneuvered around from booth to booth, he saw Jolie watching him several rooms away.

  He reached her booth. A dozen plush velvet seats filled the space, reserved for honored guests of Buffalo Bill’s show. Jolie sat in the far back, her bare feet pulled up beneath her. “Did I wake you?” she whispered.

  “No,” Ray said, sitting down next to her and leaning back in the soft chair. “A lot more comfortable down here. Were you going to rest some more?”

  Jolie shook her head. “I could not sleep even if I were in the ponds of the Terrebonne.” She took his hand. “What are we to do, Ray?”

  Ray felt her warm, slender fingers laced with his. He did not want to think of what lay ahead, he wanted only to hold on to her for as long as he could.

  “We have to find Stacker Lee. He knows where the Nine Pound Hammer is—”

  “But then?”

  Jolie knew as well as he did what they had to do. This was not what she was asking. To defeat the Gog, Ray would have to hold the golden spike as Conker brought down the Nine Pound Hammer. They would not survive the Machine’s destruction. And to save those afflicted by the Darkness, to restore the Wolf Tree, Jolie had to bring forth a siren spring.

  The words lodged in his throat, and they came up as a choke. “We must sacrifice …”

  Jolie leaned closer to him. “Conker does not fear death. He died already and returned again. But this time … this time …”

  She could not finish. Ray brought his arms around her, drawing her against him. The armrest between their seats wedged uncomfortably against his ribs, but Ray leaned heavily against it, ignoring the pain. If only he could get closer to her. He needed her strength to comfort him.

  “Leave, Jolie,” he whispered. “Escape and go back to the Terreb
onne. You don’t have to do this—”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Ray winced. “What about your sisters, the two who didn’t enter the Darkness?”

  “Ediet and Yvonnie abandoned me with my other sirmoeurs.” Jolie’s voice held no anger or resentment, not as Ray had heard before when she spoke of her sisters. She seemed to be merely speaking what was true, as if reporting the weather or stating the phase of the moon. “My sisters can be brave and fierce, but sirens care little for the troubles of mankind. I realize I am not like them.”

  “The Gog brings harm down on sirens as well. It’s not just mankind who will suffer.”

  “I know this,” Jolie said, leaning back to look at Ray. “But it is not how my sisters see what is happening. Ediet and Yvonnie intend to rescue our sisters held captive by the Gog and return to the Terrebonne.”

  Ray felt his temple throb. He fought to keep his voice at a whisper. “Didn’t you hear what Buck learned from Stacker? Your sisters are lost. Their hearts are full of clockwork now! There is no saving them without the siren spring.”

  Jolie nodded. “Yvonnie said they had found a drain in one of the big fountains in the White City. They sense our sirmoeurs through the waters. They believe if they can remove the bars covering this drain, they can reach our captive sisters in the Gog’s hall. They intend to bring them back to the Mississippi, to heal them in one of the hidden springs in the south.”

  “Your sisters will die before they get them there,” Ray said, feeling a swell of guilt as he realized also that it was his father’s fault that the sirens had been captured. If he had not called out to them through the waters of the Gloaming, they would never have entered the Darkness. But Li’l Bill had been trying to save the Wolf Tree. He had not realized what harm he was bringing. Nonetheless, Ray felt the responsibility was his to bear now.

  “Yes, I know,” Jolie answered. “They cannot escape the Darkness. I tried to tell them this, but they would not listen to me.” She took a sharp breath. “I feel I am no longer one of them, Ray. I do not know where I belong, but I fear it is not with my sirmoeurs.” Her voice grew quieter. “But what will this matter soon?”