An intense pain streaked up her arm into her neck. She staggered and fell to her knees. Mindlessly, she slammed her hand against the ground. Fragments of ice sprayed against her face. Seconds later, a veil of ice swept over her, sealing her inside a cold cocoon. Outside Lucy could hear the roar of the flames, could smell the smoke and taste its bitterness in her throat. She had to stop it. But how to tap the power of the cipher? Keros would kill her if she mangled her hands again. She sobbed. Damn Errol Cipher anyway! She hoped to Meris he’d been reborn as a manure-eating beetle.
Her cocoon was thickening. It was a deadly shield. It would kill her if the flames didn’t. She should try to get away. But she didn’t move.
Instead of stopping the fire, she’d spread it. The cipher had to be able to turn it back around. But all she could think of was the ice and the penetrating cold. Why not? What did she have to lose? It was not hard to focus, not after her experience with the Koreion of her mind. She narrowed her concentration on the cold, waiting until she could feel it with every beat of her heart. Then she gave a great angry mental thrust. Out!
Nothing seemed to happen. Or did it? She shook her head, the cocoon crackling, ice shards cutting into her jaw and neck. She ignored the pain, blinking to clear her eyes. Triumph made her giddy. It had moved. If only just a few inches. She eyed the flames. It was going to take a whole lot more than that.
Lucy closed her eyes, drawing herself inward. For a moment she floundered, fragments of her mind scurrying away like cockroaches in the light. She pulled them back, focusing on the cipher, on that endless itch inside her that told her majick was there and where. She concentrated on it, imagining it like a reservoir of water. She felt something building, a pressure inside that swelled, pushing against her innards. She held it, instinct telling her that the more it built, the more effect it would have.
The pressure tightened, turning rock hard. Her ten-dons stretched and her joints cracked with the strain of containing it. Her bladder ached for release. Lucy could hold it in no longer. She reached out with mental hands and ripped apart the reservoir walls, shoving on the collected majick at the same time.
Power erupted from her in an endless tide. It hooked grapnels around her bones and through her flesh. The tug of it was agonizing. It pulled on the ethereal inner part of Lucy that made her herself. At first she didn’t resist. The pain was too great, the drag unrelenting. But the stubborn part of her plopped down like a stubborn ox and hauled back. Why should she go? Why should she give in? The grapnels clawed harder and Lucy wrenched violently, indignant. The cipher was not going to beat her. Not this time. Not yet. She still had things to do.
A red haze obscured her vision, darkening to black. She shook her head to clear it, gritting her teeth against the whirling dizziness. She matched her body to her inner tug-of-war and flung herself backward, giving a great mental jerk as she did. The wicked hooks tore free, leaving Lucy flat on her back on the cobbles.
She panted, her ribs bellowing, feeling as raw as if she’d been keelhauled. She had a sense of the Koreion circling around her and then vanishing. She rolled onto her stomach and then to her knees. Her muscles shook so that she could barely hold herself erect. Her hands were so numb she couldn’t feel them. But laughter bubbled inside her. She’d done it! But had she stopped the fire? She doggedly turned, her shoulders hunching as if against a blow, her fists coming up defensively.
Her jaw fell open. A sparkling fairyland of ice spread out before her as far as she could see. A glimmer of gold caught her attention. She stepped forward to examine it and slipped. She fell to one knee, her other leg stretching painfully wide. She pushed herself back up using her hands, balancing cautiously on the flats of her feet.
Her gaze snagged back on the gold, and she caught her breath at the unearthly beauty of flames dancing inside a sheath of ice. As she watched, they flickered and shrank, leaving behind a crystal sculpture the shape of fire. The ice cocoon rolled out over the blackened scar like a glass sea. It rose up over the buildings on the far side and south where the fire still raged. Had raged. Now it was dying beneath the thick glaze.
Slowly Lucy became aware of voices, of shouts and people running up beside her on the street. She backed away, slipping and sliding. The cipher warmed on her arm. No!
Again she fled. She dived into whatever opening appeared, winding through a maze of alleys and streets, running until she was breathless. She slowed down, coming aware that her feet hurt. She looked down at them. The socks had charred away up to her ankles. Her soles were bloody and the tops of her feet were blistered and red.
She glanced about. She stood on a narrow street in Blackstone outside a bakery. Across the street was a milliner’s. More shops lined the road. There was no sidewalk here, but the buildings were neat and tidy. They were half-timbered, the whitewash dingy from coal smoke. Lucy limped along, aware of the suspicious looks of shopkeepers and customers alike. She hurried her pace. They’d be calling the guard soon. She looked like a thief or a vagrant, which in most people’s minds were the same thing.
She crossed a street and ducked around a corner. She found a nook between two buildings near the coal-delivery chutes and wedged inside, squatting down and wrapping her cloak around to cover her feet. She couldn’t get to the Riddles like this. She’d be crippled before she got halfway to Cheapside.
The familiar recklessness reared up. Coward. Of course she could. All she needed was a little fortitude and resolve. She looked at her bloody feet. Keros was going to be rude about this. She rolled her eyes, imagining his mockery. First the hands, then the ankle, then her feet. She was a smart girl—couldn’t she figure out a way to get back that didn’t involve tearing her feet to shreds? Nor did she have time to make the trek. Even with boots, her excursion to the burn had robbed her of precious time. She had to get back by the time the evening shift of maids entered Sweet Dreams. She couldn’t afford to miss this chance to get inside. She wouldn’t get another.
She rubbed her hands over her face, trying to think. She needed a hack. But none were going to stop for anyone looking like her. So either she needed a pair of boots, or…
Lucy stood and limped over to peer out onto the street. Carriages, hacks, and footspiders filled the thoroughfare. The wind was starting to bluster again and pedestrians clutched their cloaks around themselves, quickening their paces. Ash drifted in the air, spinning with grit into stinging whirlwinds. As she watched, a hack pulled up a dozen feet away and dropped off a pair of elderly women. They bustled inside the embroidery shop after telling the driver to wait, shouting at each other in tones that indicated both were hard of hearing.
“Hurry then, Aggie. Clarence’ll want his tea exactly at four. Why you couldn’t wait until tomorrow, I just don’t know. All this way for a bit of floss. Paying for a hack from Harwich, when Clarence could have driven us over tomorrow.”
“Now, Vera. I said I’d pay for the hack, so you can just stop fustering about it. I must have the periwinkle tonight if I’m going to have the waistcoat ready in time. Tomorrow is George’s birthday and a poor mother I would be if I didn’t have a proper gift for him.”
The ladies disappeared inside. But Lucy had heard enough. Harwich. It was a small town on the south side of Blackwater Bay between Waterfoot and Skegby. It was no closer to the Riddles than she was now, but if she stowed away in the boot…
She eyed the hack driver, who had clambered down and was adjusting the harness on the mules. He stamped his feet and snugged his caped cloak against the wind, keeping his hood pulled forward to protect his eyes. Lucy bit the tip of her tongue. It would be safer to go left and cross the street and approach the hack from behind. But it would not take long to purchase the skein of embroidery floss. She didn’t dare waste the time.
Pulling her own cloak tight around herself, Lucy stepped out onto the edge of the road, forcing herself to walk without limping. She held her shoulders erect and walked quickly back down to the cross street and turned the corner. She halted, lea
ning back against the wall, holding her breath. A footspider cast a tired glance at her as he jogged past. Lucy nodded to him and then inched back to peer around the corner. The hack driver continued to try to warm himself.
The boot at the back of the carriage was buckled closed, leaving a small opening at the bottom no bigger than a cat. She licked her lips. It was going to take her a little time to get inside. At that moment the elderly ladies emerged from the shop. The driver leaped to open the door and let down the step. The two old women were fussy and jabbered at him loudly as the wind caught the door and slammed it against the carriage. Lucy took advantage of the driver’s distraction to make her move. She forced herself to keep to a hurried walk as she approached the hack. She dodged behind the back, watching the carriage shift as the first of the two women got inside. Quickly she worked at the buckles, freeing the first two easily. The third refused to give. She yanked on it, feeling the carriage give again and hearing the door slam shut.
The driver was climbing up onto the seat now. Lucy thrust herself under the boot flaps. She scrabbled for handholds as the hack started to move, her feet dragging over the cobbles. She grasped a metal rail and pulled herself up, kicking her feet wildly. Once inside, she pulled the flaps down, closing herself in darkness. She leaned back against the rear of the carriage, pulling her knees against her chest. Her feet throbbed and her heart thundered against her ribs. But despite her exhaustion, aches, and pains, a satisfied smile curved her lips.
She nodded off, jerking awake as they rolled over a bridge. The hollow rumble of the wheels echoed loudly. The air in the boot was stuffy and dank. Lucy eased onto her hands and knees, pushing aside the flaps to see out. They’d just crossed the river. The road was angling back toward the harbor and southern end of Tideswell. Lucy began working at the reluctant buckle. Her right thumbnail bent back halfway and she swore. She held her thumb tightly in her left hand for a moment, and then set back to work. At last she pulled the strap free. She attacked the next one and soon the opening was big enough to slip out of easily. Lucy scooted to the edge of the luggage shelf, letting her feet hang down.
The hack went around a curve and down a short hill. Lucy slid down, letting her toes drag over the cobblestones. As the road flattened out, she tensed. With a heave, she shoved herself out. She fell on her side and rolled to the edge of the road. She swiftly leaped to her feet and ran back up the hill, veering left up a dirt walk-way. She hadn’t gone far when she stepped on a rock and staggered to a halt.
“Crack it!”
The words rang out loudly and she bit back the rest. She hobbled in a circle, shaking her foot to ease the pain. When she could put weight on it, she began again, slower this time, picking her way more carefully, though her feet were so raw there was no way smooth enough. The path took her into the Riddles, well south and west of Keros’s house. The ground became littered with discarded junk, broken bricks and stone, and piles and pools of waste. The stench was revolting, and worse was accidentally stepping in something disgustingly sticky that squelched.
A few men approached her for a quick squib against the wall, but she snarled at them, shouting invectives and waving her fists like a madwoman. There were more-willing women in the Riddles and the men retreated to go in search of them.
She still had a full glass before the shift change when she at last arrived back at Keros’s house. She pushed inside, panting.
“You took your sweet time—Braken’s cods! Not again! Are you absolutely incapable of going even one day without needing a healing? Just look at your feet. Where are your boots? Please tell me you did not lose a pair of perfectly good boots. And whew! What have you been rolling in? You stink!”
Lucy eyed Keros darkly. “I need a bath, not a healing. And yes, I lost my boots. They were on fire.”
“On fire?”
“Did you think flames that turn stone to ash would be stopped by leather?” Not that she hadn’t thought just that, but she didn’t say it.
“You went to the burn? Whatever for? What about Marten’s auction?”
Lucy took off her cloak, ignoring the last question. She still hadn’t decided how she felt about Marten being sold into indentured servitude, and she didn’t like that she should pity him.
“I didn’t mean to go to the burn. It just sort of happened.”
“How?”
“Oh, please. The cipher, what else?”
He shook his head, rubbing his hand over his eyes. “The gods must hate me. And you.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “Let’s go upstairs. You can tell me all about it while you bathe.”
Lucy lifted her brows at him, but didn’t object. The notion of a bath was far too tempting. He sighed in exasperation as she shambled across the floor, leaving a trail of blood and other, less pleasant detritus. He muttered something uncomplimentary and swept her up in his arms. He carried her up the narrow stairway to her room, dropping her unceremoniously onto the bed.
He filled and heated the tub.
“All right, get in.” He folded his arms, watching her.
“My, such chivalry. You’re not even going to turn your back?”
“And miss seeing all the damage you’ve done to yourself? I don’t trust you. You’ll hide things.”
“Whatever fills your sails,” Lucy said. The ever-present recklessness was growing stronger. She felt daring and wild. She stripped off her clothing, refusing to let herself feel embarrassed. She smiled when she looked up and found that his face was flushed.
“You can always look at the wall.”
“This view is very nice,” he drawled. “At least I know what Marten sees in you.”
Lucy looked down at herself, wrinkling her nose. “He likes shrewish fat women, then?”
“Your fat is in all the right places.”
“I think your taste might be suspect. When was the last time you had a woman in your bed?” she retorted. She didn’t wait for his sardonic answer, but stepped into the tub, sucking a pained breath when the warm water hit her cuts and burns.
“Are you all right?”
“Not really. But I’ll live.”
“I could try to heal you, but…”
Lucy shuddered, remembering what had happened when he’d healed her ankle. “I think I’ll try it the old-fashioned way this time. I don’t feel like talking to my cipher again.”
“Perhaps you are right. You have been hard on the furnishings.”
He watched her scrub her hair and duck under the water. He fetched an ewer of water and finished rinsing the soap from her hair, and then took up the sponge and scrubbed her back. She leaned forward with a pleased groan.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?”
“Marten’s brother bought his service contract.”
“That’s odd.”
“Is it?”
“Why didn’t he lend Marten the money rather then send him to the block?”
Lucy frowned. “In the paper his brother said I gave Marten a cipher that made him gamble, and that I used majick to force him to help smuggle the blood oak across the cordon during the salvage. But I didn’t have anything to do with either. Why would Marten tell his brother I did?”
“Maybe he didn’t.”
“But then—why would Marten’s brother want to frame me?” Lucy said slowly.
“I hate to say it again, but Marten is the one you have to talk to.” He handed her the sponge and went to sit on the edge of the bed. He looked somber. “Lucy, this makes it even more dangerous for you to go into Sweet Dreams.”
“I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
“I suppose not. But be very careful. Please.”
Her smile curved like the edge of a scythe. “Don’t worry.” She lifted her arm where the cipher wrapped it. “If he comes after me, I’ll make sure he burns up in the inferno with me.”
“That’s comforting,” Keros muttered. Then he changed the subject. “Why did you go to the burn?”
“Marten saw me. I ran and just
ended up there.”
“What happened?”
“I didn’t realize the dirt was burning. I walked out onto it and my boots caught fire.” She grimaced. “Then I backed up and started a whole new front to the fire.”
Keros groaned. “Gods! And they’d managed to slow it down, too.”
“Well…I might have put it out.”
“What? Stop parceling it out to me in dribs and drabs and explain yourself before I drown you.”
Lucy complied, telling him the entire story. He listened in silence, wrapping her in a bath sheet as she stepped out of the tub.
“That’s…astonishing. And you think you put the entire fire out?”
“Maybe. I just don’t know how long the ice will last or what trouble it will cause.”
“Can’t be worse than the fire.”
“No?”
“You’d better get dressed or you’ll be late. Your scrub-maid uniform is in the wardrobe. I’ll see what I can find for your feet. When you’re ready, there’s soup on the stove.”
He went to the door and looked back at her diffidently. “Was it what you hoped, seeing Marten chained like a Jutras slave?”
Lucy gave an infinitesimal shake of her head. “No.”
Keros hesitated a moment longer. Then he nodded and went out, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Chapter 24
After six days of impersonating Lora Clump, Lucy had no better idea what the stranger of her childhood might be up to. Nor had she made progress deciphering the Jutras contract. She had, however, developed an unhappily familiar acquaintance with the variety of revolting residues that could be left behind in a bathing room. Her hands were rough and scaly from scrubbing, and her job duties left precious little time for anything else. But she was determined to change that. And her plan wasn’t going to make Keros happy.
The day’s headlines had cemented her decision. Exhaustion and distraction had contrived to keep her from reading the trial accounts of the past sennight. But this afternoon she’d woken eager to learn what she could about her family. She’d lumbered downstairs and found Keros gone, the papers stacked by the hearth to be burned.
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