Boots for the Gentleman

by Augusta Li

  Frolic still stared at the angels. Though Querry couldn’t hear him over the shouts and shots, he saw clearly the words formed by his lips:

  Wake up.

  This time the angels responded. All four of them came to stand at the edge of the disk and face Frolic. Their creatures stood behind them, their collective weight tipping the disk almost vertical. Thimbleroy cursed and manipulated the controls hysterically. The fighting lulled momentarily as everyone stopped to watch the miraculous occurrence.

  Frolic pulled his hands apart, snapping the manacles that had held them. With calm authority, he said, “Make this stop. Stop taking the magic and make the fighting stop.”

  The green-robed angel lifted his arm and sent a stream of viridian light toward a rifle one of the soldiers held. It liquefied in the man’s hand and dripped to the ground. When it splashed against the cobblestones, little yellow flowers bloomed.

  “How?” Thimbleroy growled. “How are you telling them what to do without touching the controls?”

  Frolic only smiled serenely and turned to the rest of the men. “Put your weapons down and I’ll tell them not to hurt you.” The shocked soldiers quickly obeyed. Slowly, the resistance, led by Jean-Andre, emerged from their hiding places and joined the others in the street. The Belvaisian quickly covered Querry and Reg with his long-barreled, ornately engraved pistol. He spared a quick glance at Querry, and the thief nodded once to tell him that they were all right. Then Jean-Andre turned his attention back to their defense. Everyone looked awkwardly at everyone else. No one knew what to do next.

  “Come down from there,” Frolic told Thimbleroy. “You have no business being there.”

  “No,” the aristocrat said. “I spent my life and my fortune repairing this tower. I opened the way to the Other World so I could have access to its power. This tower is mine! Everything I’ve done has been to protect our Empire and its traditions! I’ll never give it up.”

  Frolic nodded to the red angel, as if they could communicate without words. The mighty being lifted Thimbleroy by the back of the shirt and flung him down into the street. He landed on his chest and pushed himself up on his remaining elbow.

  “What do we do now?” Querry wondered aloud.

  “Kill the son of a bitch!” someone shouted. Someone else thrust a gun into Querry’s hand. They parted to give him a clear shot.

  Querry recalled all that he and his loved ones had suffered at Thimbleroy’s hands. He sat up a little straighter, bracing his shoulder against Reg. Thimbleroy deserved to die. Querry raised his arm and aimed, but despite all that he’d been forced to do recently, he hated the idea of taking another life, and he hesitated.

  The duchess didn’t. Standing behind Reg and Querry, she fired with her pistol and Thimbleroy’s head exploded into a red cloud. Afterward she approached the body, nudged it with her toe, and emptied her gun. She continued squeezing the trigger until another woman took her shoulders and led her away.

  “Reggie,” Querry said weakly, “is it really over?” His leg throbbed, and he’d lost blood, but he would survive it.

  “I think it is, love.”

  Querry let his head relax back against Reg. The clouds above them split and shafts of golden, late-day light gilded the broken pavement. Frolic came over and stood behind Reggie, his hand on Reggie’s shoulder. Querry already sensed the magic flowing back into the world, but he wasn’t the only one.

  Mad laughter drowned the confused conversation in the street. It seemed to rise up from the ground, fall from the sky, to come from everywhere and everything at once. It shook the foundations of the buildings and rumbled below the cobblestones.

  “Oh no,” Querry breathed, his head shooting up.

  The faerie gentleman strode to the center of the crowd like a victorious general after a battle. An aura of palpable power surrounded him, and people scrambled out of his way. Kristof stood a few feet off, his hood up and his eyes on the ground. The faerie raised his arms, threw his head back, and shouted a few words in his language. The people assembled lost any expression in their faces and moved like sleepwalkers toward the clockwork disk.

  “What’s going on?” Frolic asked. More people arrived from nearby houses and shops, not soldiers but housewives, servants, bakers, and tailors. All of them converged on the tower-top. “Querry, what’s he doing?” Frolic asked. “Why is he doing this?”

  The hundred or so people began to rip at the beasts and angels, tearing them apart with their bare hands. They pushed past one another, some trampling others, in their fury to dismantle the clockworks. Gears and pieces of metal flew like torn paper. Blood also fell as the crowd fervently pounded and yanked with no regard for their own welfare. Querry saw the face torn away from the yellow angel, revealing the gears beneath. All the while, the faerie gentleman giggled, danced, and twirled around. While Querry hated to see the beautiful work destroyed, he didn’t blame the faerie for what he did. It was his nature. He could no more stop himself than the sky could hold back the rain.

  Frolic, though, screamed with horror and tried to rush to aid the angels. Reggie caught hold of him and held him back. He fought and thrashed, crying out, begging the people to stop. Reggie faced him and held tight to his wrists. He looked deep into Frolic’s eyes and said, “There’s nothing you can do.”

  “No! I have to save them! They didn’t do anything wrong! Stop! Please stop!”

  “You’d only be killed yourself,” Reg said gently. “I’m so sorry, Frolic.”

  Frolic dropped his head to Reg’s chest, sobbing and wailing. Reg wrapped his good arm around Frolic’s head and held him tightly until it was all over. The tower, the angels, the animals, everything had been decimated. Nothing larger than a dinner plate remained. The once-glorious clock tower had been reduced to a bent and bloody scrap heap. Afterward, the people turned away from it and went about their business as if nothing unusual had happened. The faerie gentleman also turned away, satisfied. As he passed by Querry, he looked down and said, “Your debt to me is resolved.” He went a few more steps before something occurred to him, and he turned back. He knelt down and touched Querry’s leg with his graceful finger, healing the wound and dissolving the bullet within. Then, with a smile and wink, both he and Kristof were gone. Querry felt disappointed. He still had a great many questions for his fey companion.

  Poor Frolic collapsed to his hands and knees and cried until his voice was gone. He swatted Querry and Reg away when they tried to comfort him. For almost half an hour he remained completely inconsolable. People around them looked for friends and loved ones among the dead and the injured. Alarm bells rang in the distance, and many people hurried away. Jean-Andre knelt and whispered to Querry that he would be in touch. Querry had many questions for him, too, and he tried to grab his sleeve, but the other man slipped from his grasp, winked, and backed away until he disappeared amidst the chaos. Querry thought he and his companions would be wise to do the same. The authorities would come, and someone would be held responsible for the destruction. It would be easier to pin the blame on a couple of fugitives than the Grande Chancellor. “Frolic,” Querry urged gently.

  The silver-haired clockwork nodded and stood. He walked to the remains of the tower and looked down at the twisted metal for a long time with a blank expression on his face. Querry couldn’t imagine what sort of connection Frolic felt with these creatures; he only knew Frolic was hurting, and he couldn’t help. Frolic knelt and shifted some of the rubble, digging around until he found what he sought. Then he returned to Querry and Reg with an intricately carved silver feather clutched tightly in his fist. “I’m the last,” he said to himself. “They’re gone, and I’m all alone.”

  “Rubbish, and you know it,” Reg said, squeezing the back of Frolic’s neck and earning a smile from the other. Watching them, Querry smiled too. All of them were hurt and dirty. They’d seen and done things that would haunt them the rest of their days. All of them had suffered losses. But damn it, he thought, here we are.

&nbs
p; Epilogue

  QUERRY, Reg, and Frolic returned to Dink’s compound to tend to their wounds. The old machinist had also been injured in the battle and had to rely on his turtle-headed walking stick in earnest for a bit. Dink had become a sort of folk hero to the city for the part he’d played in the battle and the weapons he’d provided. One of the universities had invited the machinist to teach as a guest professor. Dink had declined, vowing to spend the rest of his days researching ways that industry could benefit humankind. After a few weeks, the dead had been buried and repairs to the damaged buildings were well underway.

  Querry sat in the kitchen reading the newspaper. Tosser and Toerag prowled along the tabletops, making off with bits of uneaten meat and bread leftover from dinner. Frolic had insisted they go back for the cats, and Querry had happily agreed. The three men had spent a delightful afternoon in Reg’s old house. Smiling at the memory, Querry turned his attention back to the paper. The authorities had covered up the truth behind the fight, blamed it on a malfunction in the construction of the tower. Nobody would ever know what Querry and the others had saved them from. Despite her condition, the duchess resumed her former seat in the house and continued to fight for the rights of her people. She’d desired to run for Grande Chancellor but had been forbidden, as a woman, to declare candidacy. She remained a strong voice for the foreigners and middle-class. Even so, her proposal to limit the hours workers could toil in the factories fell rejected, as did her bid to loosen the restrictions on magical practice and allow some of the banished wizards to return. Querry wondered what Kristof would say. He’d gone back to Neroche a few times in search of the wizard and the faerie gentleman. Part of him still wondered over the jobs to steal old boots, what the gentleman had really been trying to do. Though he wouldn’t admit it aloud, part of Querry missed the fey a little. Unlike the rest of the city, the faerie quarter had healed itself almost overnight, but despite his searching, Querry had been unable to locate any sign of his former employer. Deep down, Querry knew he’d meet the gentleman again along his travels. The human citizens of the city would have to learn to live alongside the fey now. Querry wondered how it would all go.

  Not that it would affect him much. He’d be leaving with Reg and Frolic in the morning. He smiled. The other two men had hinted at their desire for some time together, time they wouldn’t have to share. Querry understood. He’d been craving some exclusive time with Reg himself, and with Frolic. Their relationship had ventured into strange and uncharted territory; they would need to draw the map as they went. For a long time Querry sat staring at his paper, not really seeing the smudged words and pictures as he thought about everything they would give up, and what would lie ahead for them. Wondering how he’d make a living led him to wonder what had become of Jean-Andre. The man hadn’t kept his promise to keep in touch. Querry didn’t suppose it mattered; he had no intention of leaving Reg and Frolic behind, not for all the riches in the world.

  Had they really changed anything? One madman was dead, but the technology to construct soldiers from clockwork existed, and it wouldn’t go away. That knowledge would spread and develop in ways Querry couldn’t even imagine. With Dink’s pilfered prototype, someone would perfect and expand air travel. Worst of all, the ability to siphon and harness magic by non-magic users had been discovered. A dangerous door had been opened. Jean-Andre had told Querry the world would change, and the thief didn’t doubt it would happen fast and imperfectly. He reached down and stroked Toerag’s soft back, feeling insignificant, one of a million insignificant men in a world that neither needed nor cared about him.

  Before long Querry’s companions joined him, smiling and satisfied. “All right, Querry?” Reg asked.

  The thief shrugged. “It’s strange. After everything that’s happened, after wanting to get away from here all of my life, I’m going to miss this place.”

  Reg nodded knowingly. “We can’t stay. You’re still a criminal, and it will only be a matter of time before somebody else comes after Frolic. Curiosity or the lust for power will compel them.”

  “Let’s take a last walk around the city,” Frolic suggested. “I’d like to see everything again.”

  “That’s a fine idea,” Querry said, standing. He took each of their hands in his and the three of them headed for the lift. After tomorrow, he didn’t know where life and fate would lead them. He didn’t even know how they’d live. He only knew he would protect these men with his life, and that they would protect him. They would manage somehow, somewhere, because they needed and loved each other.

  Tonight, though, the city beyond the scrap yard smelled of spring flowers and new leaves. A rosy, round moon hung just above the buildings, and a gentle breeze ruffled Querry’s hair. Reg’s and Frolic’s hands felt warm against his, and Querry realized that for the first time, he had nothing to fight against. He was safe and comfortable, and his stomach was full. The people he cared about would be all right. He looked over at Reg with his shirtsleeves rolled up, something Reg would never have done in public before, then at Frolic, with his fascinated smile at everything and his marvelous eyes sparkling in the moonlight. Querry had everything he’d ever wanted, and he let himself be content at last.

  About the Authors

  EON DE BEAUMONT is a versatile author, craftsmen, and raconteur. He has written a number of short stories, novellas, and novels, both solo and with his long-time writing partner and best friend, Augusta Li. Eon is an accomplished playwright and actor under an alternate identity. Above all Eon loves storytelling in all its myriad forms and sometimes has trouble sleeping for the abundance of ideas in his brain. Eon is alternately a mask maker, seamstress, doll maker, and amateur cook, as well. His passions include makeup, shoes, comics, movies, and the pursuit of an ever-higher gamer score. He’s currently working on a number of projects in various states of completion including a manga, a pirate story, a thriller/horror script, and a young adult novel. Eon welcomes and encourages feedback and questions from his readers at mascaraboy13@ hotmail.com, or through his Facebook or Gus and Eon’s website: http://www.yaoimagic.com, and above all he hopes that his readers find enjoyment in his work.

  AUGUSTA LI is the author of several short stories, novellas, novels, and yaoi manga scripts, created either on her own or with her partner in crime, Eon de Beaumont. Gus and Eon are also artists and are currently hard at work on many manga and prose projects. They would love nothing more than to see the yaoi/BL genre flourish in the West. Video games, manga, and anime have been huge influences on Gus’s work. Xbox Live calls Gus away from work far more often than it should.

  Visit Gus at http://www.yaoimagic.com or keep an eye out at anime conventions and Goth clubs around the East Coast.

  Also by Augusta Li

  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

  Steampunk Romance from DREAMSPINNER PRESS

  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com