Black Mercury (The Drifting Isle Chronicles)

by Charlotte E. English

  “Killed? That’s absurd.”

  “Oh? You’ve forgotten, then, that Shadows are principally known for two things: thefts and assassinations?”

  “Assassinations are for important people! Who’d pay to have me killed?”

  “You’re in bad company, or couldn’t you see it written all over those two?” Til’s tone was grim and as merciless as Hildy and Clara.

  “What’s wrong with them?” Cas protested. “That Faulkner chap’s a bit funny, I grant you, but as to being bad, that’s taking it too far. And Miss Bernat is a university lecturer! What could be less questionable than that!”

  Clara snorted. “Oh, is she? In what?”

  “History!”

  “Do you have any evidence for that, Cas? Any at all?”

  “Of course I do!” Cas snapped.

  “And that’s what?”

  Cas thought frantically, but nothing came to mind. “It was just a deal, all right? She’s a fan and she wanted to help me get back into racing.”

  Clara laughed outright at that. “Just out of the goodness of her heart?”

  “Of course not,” Cas said scornfully. “She would take a commission out of the fee. I’m not completely stupid.”

  Hildy’s autocarriage was parked on the side of the street. Cas was bundled into it, then Hildy and Til hopped into the drivers’ seats and started up the engine.

  To Cas’s intense indignation, Clara locked the doors, shoved Cas onto his face and then sat on him.

  Actually sat on him. On him! Right on his back! For all the world as if he hadn’t been badly beaten up only the night before. It hurt, but his protests failed to be heard around the mouthful of upholstery he was chewing on.

  By the time he’d managed to throw her off and struggle more or less upright again, the autocarriage was in motion and moving too fast for him to make a leap for it.

  “This is utterly outrageous,” he sputtered.

  Clara patted his hand. “You’ll get over it. Calm down now, and listen.” She sat down next to him and leaned against his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re safe,” she said softly.

  “I wasn’t in any danger!”

  Clara gave a sigh: the weary, long-suffering one she used when she thought him the most tiresome person of her acquaintance. “Tell me everything, Cas. How did you ever find these people?”

  He remained stubbornly silent for a moment, but then it occurred to him that if he just put his side of the story across, she’d see what he meant and stop hounding him about it. So he told her everything, from Miss Bernat’s seeking him out at the ball to the substance of Wrede Faulkner’s offer for the black mercury.

  “All right,” Clara said evenly when he’d finished. “So a woman you’d never met before tracked you down at the ball, dragged you into the dancing and—just like that—offered to get your ban withdrawn?”

  “Yes.”

  “Through some mysterious ‘connections’? And she said it would cost a lot.”

  “Yes. I mean, of course it would. It made sense.”

  “Putting aside—just for now—the fact that you were quite happy to engage in bribery to get what you want (that’s a crime, Cas, in case you weren’t aware), didn’t you think it convenient that Miss Bernat also happened to have the perfect way for you to raise the money?”

  “Bribery’s a crime? Nonsense. My father does it all the time.”

  Clara looked up at the autocarriage’s roof, closed her eyes, and to all appearances counted to ten. “Putting that briefly aside,” she repeated. “Raising the money, Cas.”

  “Well, yes, that was a bit of luck,” he admitted. “But she probably realised ahead of time that I wouldn’t have money just lying around.”

  “Luck,” Clara echoed. “All right, that was luck. It was luck that she happened to know this Faulkner person—a friend of her father’s!—who’d take the black mercury off your hands without question and pay you an incredible sum for it.”

  “I just said it was lucky!” Cas snapped.

  “It was much more than that,” Clara replied. She spoke patiently, but he could see it was beginning to cost her an effort. “They knew you had the black mercury, Cas.”

  “No they didn’t. All Matilda Bernat knew was that I had something to sell to raise the money. Faulkner was incredulous when I told him what it was, just now.”

  “Oh? Did he ask for proof?”

  “No…” Cas admitted. “But I told him I had family connections. Everyone knows that the Goldsteins do business with Hans Diederich!”

  “Do they, really?” she murmured. “I see.”

  Cas lapsed into silence. He’d be damned if he’d let Clara see it, but her words were beginning to get to him. Disquiet gnawed at his gut, and he couldn’t help looking it all over again with her theory in mind. What if they had known?

  “Do you think,” Clara said with extreme care, “that either one of them might have been a Starcaster?”

  Cas frowned. “No. Like I said, Miss Bernat is a history lecturer and… well, Faulkner’s only supposed to be a dealer.”

  “He could be anything else besides, and as for Matilda Bernat—if she is a university lecturer it’s quite possible that she lectures in the history of Starcasting.”

  Cas said nothing.

  “It’s my belief,” Clara said, still speaking with great care, “that neither of them had any intention of paying you anything. You were being manipulated from the beginning; all they’re interested in is getting the black mercury off you. They probably had people ready to follow you when you went to pick it up. Or they would have followed you themselves, and taken it.”

  Cas slumped back in the seat and sighed. “At this point I wouldn’t even care. Let them have it, if that’s what they want, and be gone.”

  “Do you think they’d be nice enough to just let you wander off afterwards?”

  Cas blinked. “Why would they harm me? I don’t see what that would achieve.”

  “In targeting you instead of Hildy they’ve shown that they prefer not to risk bringing the Ministry of Justice down on their heads. If they dealt with you in apparent good faith, then beat you, robbed you and let you go, do you think you might go straight to the police?”

  “I’d expect so!” said Cas indignantly. “Nobody does business that way.”

  Clara just nodded.

  Cas muttered an expletive.

  “I’m sorry for the way we treated you,” Clara said, “but we had to get you out immediately, before they could come up with a way to prevent us.”

  “What about the Shadow?” Cas said suddenly. “Maybe he’s working with them, too. And the crows?”

  “Look behind you.”

  Cas turned and stared out of the rear window.

  Behind the autocarriage, the sky was filled with pigeons.

  “Min’s been busy,” Clara said with a quick smile.

  “I earned that cake, Clarry!” Min yelled from the front of the carriage.

  “For once, I agree,” Clara said with a small smile. “I’ll get you some more.”

  Min was shocked into silence.

  “But what’s to be done?” Caspar said after a moment. “I’ve still got that cursed stuff hidden away and they’ll all still be after me. I’ve got to get rid of it.”

  “You’re going to give it over to Hildy,” Clara said.

  “But—”

  “Just shut up,” Clara said with infinite weariness. “Please.”

  “All right,” Cas said in the same tone. Slumping back into the seat, he shut his eyes and tried to be asleep.

  When the autocarriage finally drew up and stopped, Cas opened his eyes to find they’d travelled into the heart of the south shore district. The street they’d stopped on was lined with magnificent city mansions belonging to some of the wealthiest of Eisenstadt’s citizens. In fact, Cas judged that they were only a few minutes’ walk from his father’s house.

  For a moment he thought that perhaps they’d come here merely to collect
something, or to consult with someone. But Hildy unstrapped herself and got out of the carriage, and Til followed.

  “Wake up, Cas,” Clara said, shaking his elbow.

  “I’m awake. What’s this place?”

  “This,” Hildy said, opening the rear door of the autocarriage, “is my house.”

  Cas stared up at the four-storey building in disbelief. “You live here? You?”

  “No, of course I don’t,” Hildy retorted, her voice dripping scorn. “Get inside, quickly.”

  Cas was ushered through the rear entrance of the nearest house. Clara, Til and Hildy hurried inside behind him, and Hildy slammed the door shut. Then she locked and barred it.

  “I’ve never lived here,” she clarified. “In fact it isn’t even my house, strictly speaking. It’s Max’s, of course. He says that Goldsteins ought to be seen to live in the proper style.” She wrinkled her nose to show what she thought of that. “Max is the only person who actually thinks I’d live in such an over-the-top monstrosity. I actually have a very cosy apartment not far from Clarry’s.”

  Cas might have been amused by this speech, so typical of his aunt, if he hadn’t been put in mind of the opulent house he’d only recently left—most unwillingly—himself. Apparently he’d absorbed his father’s love of luxury, and it hadn’t done him any good. Hildy’s approach —as always—was far more practical.

  “Well, anyway,” Hildy continued, “this ought to do nicely.”

  “For what?” Cas asked.

  “For hiding, at least for a little while.”

  He blinked. “We’re hiding here? Really?”

  Clara shot him an exasperated look. “When you think of hiding, you think of an abandoned building on the dodgy side of the city. Which is where just about every other shady character in Eisenstadt hides. Is this maybe the last place most people would ever think of holing up? Right in the middle of Eisenstadt’s finest and richest?”

  “Umm,” Cas said.

  “Right,” said Clara. “Assuming Min’s pigeons managed to keep the crows off us, we should be all right here for a few days.”

  “What about Matilda Bernat and that Faulkner fellow? And the Shadow?”

  “Everything’s fine, Cas,” Hildy said, laying a hand on his arm. “I just need you to help us collect up that pesky black mercury and get it out of the way.”

  She was talking to him in a soothing manner, using the sort of language which wouldn’t alarm a child. He found this rather offensive until he realised he must look worn out, strained and tense.

  “It’s fine where it is,” he said with a tight smile.

  “Perhaps, but you aren’t fine with it where it is. It needs to be passed to me, and then we must let it be known that it’s no longer in your possession. And then your part in this will be over.”

  “And what about you?” Cas folded his arms and stared his aunt down.

  To his annoyance, Hildy’s lips twitched with suppressed laughter. “Don’t try that I’m-Max-Goldstein trick on me, my boy. It won’t work, because you aren’t. I’m well protected, remember? I’ve got the wealth of the company on my side at present, plus the aid of the Ministry of Justice. I’ll be all right. I’m not sure that you will.”

  “I can’t just offload all this onto you, aunt. What kind of a person would that make me?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “A sensible one.”

  Caspar was aware of Clara hovering nearby, watching this exchange, but he wouldn’t look at her. “I’m going to fix this myself.”

  “I see.” She folded her arms, too, and glared back at him. “Is this you being protective of me, or is it just stupid pride?”

  “There’s nothing stupid about it! I got myself into this mess, I need to get myself out of it.”

  Hildy opened her mouth to argue, but Til interrupted. “I can see his point, Hild.”

  “I’d be quite happy to listen to anyone who doesn’t have male parts,” Hildy snapped.

  “Sleep first, talk later,” Clara intervened, looking pointedly at Caspar.

  Hildy sighed, and nodded. “Do you remember which room we put aside for Cas?” she asked Clara, who nodded. “Can you take him up? Til and I will make sure we’re secure here.”

  “Be careful,” Clara said, and then turned back to Caspar. “Follow me, please?”

  The moment Clara had said the word “sleep”, Cas’s body had gone into revolt. It was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other to follow Clara upstairs; he had no energy to continue the debate with his aunt. “Just a few hours,” he said.

  “Sleep until you’re refreshed,” she replied. “Or you’ll only be useless later.”

  “Useless?” he protested.

  She turned her head to grin at him. “Completely useless. Just look at yourself.”

  Cas grimaced, and said nothing. They walked most of the way down a long corridor on the second floor of Hildy’s house—a corridor lushly decorated with expensive wallpaper, dark red carpet and a lot of electric lights—before Clara stopped at a closed door.

  “This is yours,” she said, throwing the door open. Cas peeped inside to see—glory of glories—precisely the type of bed he liked: enormous, soft, and thickly layered with blankets.

  But he hesitated, and looked at Clara. “Will you be all right?”

  She looked surprised. “You’re worried about me?”

  “Er… yes? Is that bad?”

  Her face softened, and she smiled. “Not entirely, but you shouldn’t. I’ll be fine. Please just sleep.”

  He nodded, too exhausted to say anything more. He stepped into his new room and all but fell onto the bed. The last sound he heard was that of Clara softly closing the door behind him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Clara returned downstairs to find an apparently empty ground floor. Hildy and Til were still checking the house, she supposed. She found the kitchen and set about making tea, laying out three cups. When Hildy returned a few minutes later, her face lit up at the sight of a steaming beverage waiting for her.

  “Hasn’t it just been a long day,” she sighed, slumping into a chair. “Or a long week, actually. Til thinks we’re fine for a while and I can’t see any reason to disagree with him. Min reported that there are no crows. Where’s His Lordship?”

  Clara snorted softly. “His Lordship is safely abed and probably already asleep by now. But you know him—I can’t absolutely guarantee that he won’t find a way to cause trouble while he’s unconscious.”

  Hildy sipped tea. “He doesn’t mean to cause trouble, Clarry.”

  “No,” Clara agreed, taking a chair at the table across from Hildy. “He’s just too stupid to stay out of it.”

  Hildy’s brows rose. “Stupid?”

  “Fine, not stupid. Just… pig-headed.”

  “Doesn’t that mean stupid?”

  “And stubborn and wilful and spoiled and incredibly gullible for a grown man.”

  Hildy smiled slightly. “Max made some mistakes with him, that’s for sure.”

  Clara said nothing for a while, content to cup her hands around her teacup and brood. It flabbergasted her that Cas could be so utterly clueless—and yet, as Hildy said, he wasn’t stupid. He just didn’t have a scrap of common sense, that was the problem. If only she could wash her hands of him and leave him to get on with it, her life would be so much simpler. But somehow that never worked out for long.

  Then a sudden thought interrupted her reflections, one that sent a lance of guilt stabbing through her. She set her tea down with a snap.

  “Luk,” she said. “I’d forgotten about him. How could I do that?”

  Hildy just blinked at her.

  “I haven’t seen him in days,” Clara groaned. “And him with a broken leg.” She stood up, briskly checking her pockets for her keys. “I need to go and check on him.”

  “Clarry, love, you need to rest. Lukas can take care of himself.”

  “That I know,” she said. “Much better than Cas, certainly. But I shouldn’
t have forgotten him.”

  That earned her a measuring look from her mentor, but Hildy made no further objections. “Try not to be long, dear, and be careful on your way back. Take Min with you.”

  Clara nodded. “You’ll take care of Cas?”

  “I’ve got to get back to work, but Til will stay with him. He’s got a coilgun.”

  Clara hesitated.

  “I doubt he’ll need it,” Hildy added. “We were careful in coming here, remember? It’ll take a while for anyone to find this place, if they’re even trying.”

  Clara nodded. Checking on Luk wouldn’t take long, and she could come straight back. “If only it were possible to put some kind of locating device on Cas. Then we’d always know where he is.”

  “Hmm,” Hildy said. “Yes… if only that were possible.” Her tone was considering, and Clara knew her agile mind was already turning over the idea, testing its possibilities.

  She smiled and let herself out.

  Min sat on the roof of the rear porch, guzzling seed. “Wait!” she shouted as Clara marched towards the street, her voice muffled with food. “Just a couple more—mouthfuls—”

  Clara heard the sounds of frenzied gobbling, then the swoop of wings as her companion caught up with her. “I’ll get indigestion,” Min said mournfully.

  “You’re getting fat,” Clara replied.

  “Hey! Top says I’m the sleekest pigeon in Eisenstadt.”

  Clara rolled her eyes.

  “True,” the pigeon said. “So where are we going?”

  “To see Lukas.”

  “Great!” Min enthused, soaring ahead of Clara. “Do you think he’ll have cake?”

  “Keep your mind on the crows!”

  Lukas was at home, sitting in a chair with his crutches placed to either side of him. He had a book open on his lap but he wasn’t looking at it; when Clara walked in she found him staring into space. Despite his temporary infirmity and his isolation, his dark hair was still perfectly groomed, he was immaculately clean-shaven and as well-dressed as ever, excepting the clumsy contraption that supported his broken leg. Clara felt an odd mixture of relief and apprehension on seeing him; how could she explain that she’d forgotten to visit?