Boots for the Gentleman

by Augusta Li

  Outside, as if to aid them, the clouds stretched low and thick above the quiet city. Black and white posters offering substantial rewards for Querry and Reg’s capture stuck to buildings and lampposts everywhere they looked. In spite of the bad likenesses, Querry took one of each of the posters and put them in his coat pocket as a souvenir. As they made their circuitous way, keeping to alleys and backstreets, Querry realized that the city was too quiet. Even the great factories stood silent, their massive stacks free of smoke.

  “Do you know what today is?” Reg said.

  Querry and Frolic shrugged and shook their heads.

  With a little smile, Reg explained, “It’s New Year’s Day. At this early hour, most people are probably still recovering from the cheer they had last night. They’ll be off to dinners and parties later. This is in our favor. And it’s poetic, don’t you think?”

  “How so?” Querry asked.

  “The start of a New Year. The start of our new lives. I feel good about this, Querry. I think we’re going to be all right.”

  “We will be all right,” Frolic agreed. “We’re going to be so happy.”

  Querry couldn’t help but agree as their optimism and excitement spread. His nerves let up a little bit, and he actually enjoyed the walk to the waterfront.

  AFTER asking about discreetly and spending a bit of coin, the three men located a ship willing to carry them. Querry stood near the quayside, talking to the captain, while Reg and Frolic stood a little ways off. This captain and his crew hailed from the states of Allied Libertannia, which Querry liked just fine. Libertannia had been a royal colony, but her people had rebelled and expelled their masters by force. The nation that had formed as a result maintained an amiable relationship with the crown, but the people were famous for being a bit belligerent, mistrustful of authority, and quick to take up arms. Querry felt he’d fit in just fine aboard the Painted Lady.

  “All of you will be expected to work,” said the tall, dark-skinned captain. While a white man like Querry, time at sea had darkened his complexion to a rich leather. He wore his brown hair in a long braid beneath a battered, tri-corn hat. “There may be times when you’ll have to defend the Lady. Can you handle a sword and a pistol?”

  “Practically born with them in my hands,” Querry assured him. “Reg is a crack shot, and Frolic can fight like the devil. I’ve seen him take down a dozen men with just a rapier.”

  The captain’s lip curled at the mention of Frolic’s name, giving Querry a glimpse of his tarweed-stained teeth. “Call them over,” he told Querry, who did. He introduced Reg to Captain Cassius Nelson.

  “Captain,” Querry said, “Reginald Whitney.”

  “You know how to use those pretty little guns, boy, or are they just for show?”

  “I know how to use them just fine, sir,” Reg said.

  “Fine,” Captain Nelson said, “You two men can go onboard. Not the faerie.”

  “Faerie?” Reg asked. “You don’t mean Frolic?”

  “No faeries on my ship,” the captain repeated. “We don’t have faeries in the A.L. and we’d rather keep it that way.”

  “Sir, he’s not a faerie,” Querry said quickly.

  Captain Nelson answered him with an insulted chuckle.

  “Sir, please!” Reg said. “Frolic just has a rare skin condition that has resulted in his strange coloring. Nothing contagious. His body doesn’t produce the proper pigment. Look!” He pulled off the tight, leather cap and lifted Frolic’s curls to show Captain Nelson a small, round ear. “Besides, why would a faerie spend weeks laboring aboard a ship, eating stale bread and sleeping in bilge water? They have their own means of travel.”

  Captain Nelson took hold of Frolic’s chin, turned his head to the side, and regarded him closely. After staring many moments through squinted eyes, he nodded. “If I find out this is any kind of trick, I’ll run you all through and dump you in the ocean.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Reg said in a relieved voice.

  By now the rest of the crew of the Painted Lady had come on deck to assess their new shipmates. They were a rough-looking lot, and Querry wondered if they were pirates. “What kind of cargo are you carrying?” he asked the captain.

  “None of your goddamned business, son. Don’t ask about it again, and I won’t ask why you three are in such a hurry to get out of town. Hell, you never even asked where we were headed.”

  “Fair enough. Where are we headed?”

  “South to the Caribique Islands to pick up a shipment. Back to Libertannia.”

  Querry wanted to inquire further about these places and determine which of them might be a good place for them to settle, but a disturbance a few docks down distracted them both. At first it looked like just another seaside brawl, but then Querry heard a gunshot, then another.

  “Reg, Frolic,” Querry called, “get on the ship!” All three of them hurried toward cover, but sailors pouring from ships and from the drinking dens and brothels pushed them further away. They stood little chance against the dozens of big men, so Querry grabbed Reg and Frolic and pulled them behind a small shack. He drew his pistol and watched around the corner.

  “What’s going on?” Frolic whispered.

  “I don’t know,” Querry said. “It seems like more than drunken sailors, though.” He strained to see something amidst the thrashing bodies. When he did, he wished he hadn’t.

  He recognized the men from the raid on his rented room. They weren’t the same men, but they wore similar gear and walked with the same arrogance. Any seaman that attempted to avenge his crewmate got a bullet for his trouble. Still, the ten men wouldn’t stand much chance against the hundred or so toughened sailors. Already the sailors surrounded them, brandishing large knives, swords, clubs, and oars.

  “We have to get onboard the ship,” Querry hissed. “Get below deck.” He checked to make sure Thimbleroy’s men remained distracted by their immediate threat. “Run for it!”

  The three of them bolted for the ship, but just then a fresh wave of sailors, black-skinned men with big, curved swords, rushed from the left with blood-thirsty cries on their lips. They pushed Querry toward Thimbleroy’s men, separating him from Reg and Frolic and knocking his pistol from his hand. Shielding his face with his forearms, Querry fought against the onslaught.

  It took some time, considering the chaos, but Querry found Reg and Frolic crouching next to a barrel. He sighed with relief and hurried toward them. A hand closed around his elbow and spun him around. Two sailors, each a foot taller than the thief, stood smiling rotten-toothed smiles. The one who’d grabbed Querry held a serrated knife the size of his forearm, and his companion smacked his palm with an iron bar. They reeked of rum, fish, and poor hygiene.

  “It’s fifty pounds to him what turns you three over to them gents,” said the sailor with the knife, indicating Thimbleroy’s thugs with a jut of his chin. He pointed to another of those damned posters, nailed to a wooden post.

  Querry wrenched his arm free, stepped backward, and drew his sword. “Your life worth fifty pounds?” he spat.

  The sailors laughed. Wasting no time, Querry lunged forward and stabbed into one of their bellies. Blood bloomed across the big man’s coarse shirt. He held his hand to the wound and swiped at Querry with his knife. Querry dodged, and his attacker lost his balance. When he stumbled forward, Querry smacked him hard in the back of the head with the hilt of his sword, driving him to his hands and knees. As he fell, the other sailor swung the iron bar. Acting on instinct, Querry shielded his head with his arm. Pain shot through his elbow, but his armored gloves saved him from a broken bone and allowed him to keep hold of his blade. The sailor raised his arm for another blow, exposing his midsection. Querry brought his sword down in an arc and buried it just above the sailor’s hipbone.

  He must have hit something vital, because blood sprayed from the sailor’s mouth, and he crumpled. Using his foot for leverage, Querry dislodged his weapon. The other sailor groaned and crawled away, holding his gut. Qu
erry turned around, only to see Reg and Frolic surrounded by three of his attackers’ shipmates. Reg stood in front of Frolic, his wrists crossed in front of his face and a pistol in each hand. The sailors stood cautiously back. When a forth tried to surprise the pair from the side, Reg flicked his wrist and put two bullets in his shoulder.

  Querry crept up behind the group and stabbed one of the sailors in the back, drawing the attention of the others. Reg and Frolic hurried to his side, their weapons trained on the other two men.

  “Leave us alone or die!” Querry said. He watched them closely as the three of them began to back away, their shoulders pressed together. Slowly, trying not to expose their backs, they made their way back toward the ship. They saw it, only about three hundred yards away, when one of the hired thugs stepped out in front of him. Unlike the sailors, this man held a fancy clockwork rifle the size of a cannon tight to his shoulder. The barrel waited a foot from Querry’s forehead.

  “Drop it,” Reg said.

  “I don’t think so, boy,” the man snarled. “There’s no way you can shoot me with those little toys before I separate your friend here from his head.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” Reg answered.

  The man stepped forward, and so did Reg. Querry felt cold steel against his skin as he watched Reg press the nose of his pistol into the man’s greasy, black hair.

  “I’ll kill you,” Reg hissed.

  “I’m taking him with me,” the man said of Querry.

  Swallowing hard, Querry said, “Do it, Reg. They’ll take Frolic and kill the two of us anyway.”

  “Querry—”

  “Frolic!” the man said with contempt. “You named it?”

  Reg’s face contorted with rage. He shoved his gun hard against the man’s head. “Son of a whore,” he growled. “Shut your bloody mouth!”

  “Reg, do it!”

  “Go on, Reg,” the thug mocked. “I’ll blow your little friend’s head to the colonies.”

  “Save Frolic,” Querry whispered, closing his eyes and hoping it would be quick.

  He heard a cough and a gurgle, and opened his eyes just in time to see the man drop his rifle, clutch his chest, and fall forward. Querry jumped out of the way. Captain Cassius Nelson spat on the man’s body and wiped his blood from a large hunting knife. “Who do these whoresons think they are?” he chuckled. “We don’t look kindly on being told what to do around here, much less threatened.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Reg breathed.

  “Let’s get back to the ship.” He turned and walked toward his vessel.

  Querry heard another commotion behind him, looked over his shoulder and saw another group of hired guns: this one numbering fifty or more. One of the group spotted the three men, and he yelled and pointed. The rest of them took off at a run.

  “Shit,” Querry said. “Let’s go. Hurry.” They sprinted toward the Lady as guns were being drawn. Bodies on the ground and small brawls slowed their way, and the new attackers nearly closed the distance. A bullet hit a pile of netting two feet to Querry’s left. “Faster!” he urged.

  The crew of the Lady waited on deck, rifles and pistols of their own aimed at the new invaders. Querry could have sworn somebody, or several people, picked off his attackers from the roofs of the nearby buildings. A few times when they were nearly caught, the men closest to Querry and his friends fell to one of these mysterious bullets. At this point, Querry gladly accepted any aid offered. He had no time to consider the source; he needed to get himself and his companions on that ship. Querry, Reg, and Frolic would be safe when they made it behind that wall of armed and angry sailors. They had only a few feet to go.

  A horrible scream spun Querry around. In slow motion, he saw a skeletal hand, the fingers made of metal and the joints built with gears, sprout from Frolic’s chest amidst a shower of metal shards. Frolic’s face contorted with pain and surprise. His knees buckled. Without thinking, Querry ran toward him, barely even aware of his own voice cursing and crying out. The clockwork hand drew back, taking Frolic’s heart with it. Frolic fell facedown, and his cloaked and hooded assailant disappeared among the throng before Querry could reach him.

  He got to Frolic and dropped to his knees, screaming his throat raw. He was vaguely aware of Reg coming toward them, of the bullets whizzing over his head as the thugs and sailors exchanged fire. Querry turned Frolic over and pulled him into his lap. His glorious eyes stared silently at the sky, and his lips hung open. The hole in his chest exposed the champagne alloy of his skeleton. Two of his ribs and his sternum had cracked, and his spine bowed to the side. The tubes and piping where his heart had been hung in tangled disarray. The millions of tiny gears were still.

  “No!” Querry screamed, sobs wracking his body.

  “Querry, the ship!” Reg urged, tugging on his elbow. “We’ll be killed if we stay here.”

  Picking up Frolic, Querry ran, bent almost in half. They got aboard the deck of the Painted Lady and the sailors closed ranks around them. Querry collapsed, cradling his dead lover. He hardly noticed the battle raging around him as he touched Frolic’s white eyelashes, his perfect lips and soft skin. He remembered finding Frolic, kissing him, showing him things, and touching him for the first time. Reg sat opposite him and held Frolic’s knuckles against his mouth. Tears streamed down his face.

  “I can’t believe we’ve lost him,” Reg choked. His other shaking hand closed around Querry’s knee. “Frolic is gone.”

  Querry dropped his head to Frolic’s decimated chest and wept until he had no more voice and no more tears to shed. Eventually Thimbleroy’s hirelings retreated and the sailors, who’d suffered no more than a few minor injuries, tended to one another.

  A hand on his shoulder made Querry lift his head. “I am truly sorry,” Captain Nelson said, and by his face he meant it. He handed Querry a clean, white sheet. “We’ll bury him at sea.”

  Querry looked at the crisp, white cloth, then at Frolic’s face. He dried his tears on his sleeve, lifted his chin, and said, “No.”

  “Oh, Querry,” Reg said. “It will be a good way to lay him to rest.”

  “We aren’t laying him to rest,” Querry said. He set Frolic’s body gently on the deck and got to his feet. “I’m going to get him back.”

  “Querry—”

  “No! I’m getting him back, Reg!”

  “He’s gone.”

  “I’ll fix him!”

  Reg took hold of Querry’s shoulders and shook him hard. “You can’t fight against this!” he yelled. “Frolic is dead, Querry! He can’t come back.”

  “Yes he can!”

  “He can’t! You can’t go against death itself!”

  “I can! I will!”

  “How?”

  “I can get the book! I can fix him!”

  “We’re putting ourselves in great danger by staying in this city,” Reg said. “Do you think Frolic would have wanted that? He’s very complex; I don’t know if you have the skill. And you’ll need tools and supplies—”

  “We’ll take him back to Dink’s!”

  “Querry, love, please hear reason!”

  “I am not leaving Frolic to die! Are you coming with me?”

  “You know I am.”

  Querry took Reg’s hand and squeezed it. “Trust me, Reg. I can do this. I’ll bring him back to us.”

  “I hope you’re right, Querry.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “LAST of the tea,” Reg said forlornly as he set a steaming cup and a few stale biscuits next to Querry’s elbow. Querry didn’t lift his face, encased in bulky, cylindrical goggles that magnified his vision, from Frolic’s chest. Tweezers, spools of fine wire, and screwdrivers as thin as needles lay scattered over the metal table where he worked. Gas lights hung low over Frolic’s body, illuminating his still form as it lay among gears, tools, and stacks of paper.

  After retrieving the book, Querry had spent more than a week analyzing it and drawing up diagrams. He’d mended the small tear in Frolic’s lung sac
k, repaired and straightened his ribs and spine, and patched the steam conduits that twisted hundreds deep within his chest. He’d replaced and reset hundreds of gears, some no bigger than a drop of water. He’d checked and re-checked his work, comparing it to his schematics and the descriptions in the book.

  Reg rubbed his shoulder and said, “Please have a break. You haven’t slept nor left that table in almost three days.”

  Querry barely heard him and continued to work, staring at the delicate metal cage that had housed Frolic’s heart. It was just about as big as his fist, and all the steam channels converged there.

  “Querry, I insist you stop and have tea with me,” Reg said, inviting no argument.

  With a deep sigh, Querry slid the goggles off of his head and ran his fingers through his hair. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the non-magnified world, and he leaned back in his metal chair. Reg sat on a stool next to him. He pressed the teacup into Querry’s hand.

  “You look awful,” Reg told him. “You need to get some rest.”

  “I’m almost there.”

  Reg made an exasperated sound. “It’s been over three weeks, love. I think it’s time you face the facts. It’s time we let him go.”

  “No,” Querry said, shaking his head. “I’m close, Reg. Everything is repaired. All I need to do now is find a heat source to replace his heart and stitch him up. I’m afraid he’s going to have quite a scar, but at least he’ll be alive.”

  “If it’s that simple, why is it taking so long?”

  “Because there’s nothing I know of that will burn at a constant heat without a great deal of fuel. There’s nothing in his design that allows for fuel to be stored or fed into his heart. The best I can do would be to attach a hydrogen tank to the outside and install a burner. The tank would have to be changed regularly, though.”

  “Querry,” Reg said gently, “do you suppose he’d want to live that way, with a tank attached to him and a big hole in his chest? From what you’ve said, he was horrified when he saw the clockwork soldiers in Thimbleroy’s basement. It disturbed him to think he had anything in common with those things. I hate to say this to you, but you must decide why you’re really doing this. Are you doing it for Frolic, or for yourself? You can’t make him live as an abomination for selfish reasons. I’m sorry, Querry, but it would be wrong.”