by William Ray
Emily knew the Elves had some problem with iron, so elfsteel was golden hued. They were a rare prize after the Elves vanished from the world, and she might never have seen any had Gus not kept one as an overpriced souvenir. When money was tighter, she had been tempted to ask him to sell it off to pay her salary, but the sadness in his eyes whenever he stared at it had warned her off. Instead, she just pretended not to notice it.
Since they were human, she didn’t know if the real Wardens had used elfsteel or not, but she supposed the exotic shape of their knives might be useful information. She wondered if any of the other men interviewed by the police had reported that. Anything she could get that put them ahead of the Crossing might mean the difference between beating them to the culprit and collecting the reward.
“Three of them leapt out of their coach, waving those around. Two of them went after the man, Doctor Phand. They bashed him on the head,” continued Missus Casey, pantomiming the bash, “then carried him into the coach while a third one tried to pull Missus Phand in as well!”
Lady Wending waved her hand impatiently at Missus Casey, saying, “You haven’t told the most scandalous part yet! Go on!”
With a smile that told Emily she was hesitating for dramatic effect, Missus Casey took a deep breath and then said, “One of these Wardens was a woman!”
Missus Graishe gave a scandalized gasp despite the fact that she had undoubtedly heard the story already, and Lady Wending nodded sagely as if this confirmed some theory she would claim to have held all along.
Seeming pleased with Emily’s own look of shock and buffeted by the dramatics of her companions, Missus Casey leaned forward, lowering her voice to an appropriate volume for discussing a scandal as she said, “At least one! Only one spoke, but I’m sure it was a woman. She said, ‘We have got the man,’ and when the other one had trouble pushing Missus Phand into their coach, the same one said, ‘Leave her. We have to go.’”
“You think the other Wardens were women?”
Missus Casey smiled and shrugged, saying, “Who could say, in those robes?”
“Did your husband tell that to the police, at least?”
Missus Casey laughed and said, “Heavens no! The poor dear can barely hear the whistle on a passing train. Besides, what man would ever admit to seeing a gang of women haul off another fellow?”
At that, Lady Wending gave a disgusted frown and said, “The Elves were always mixed up about such things anyway. They’re as bad as those Committee types in Tulsmonia!” Emily laughed softly at the thought of Lady Wending’s reaction should she ever come by Gus’s office and see her there, but she covered it with a nod of agreement, hoping it would seem she was merely laughing at the Elves.
Emily had heard the Lady’s disdain and horror at the idea of women working in business offices before. Women in service were acceptable, and the poor souls toiling away in the factories were easy to overlook, but women with office jobs peripherally impinged in a way that Lady Wending’s sort found peculiarly offensive.
At the mention of Tulsmonia, however, Missus Graishe perked up again and changed to the next subject. “Did you hear there was an assassination attempt on That Woman in Mazhar?” When Lady Wending shook her head, Missus Graishe added, “I think it means she’s real. Why else would someone try to kill her?”
Lady Wending harrumphed and said, “Because the Committee are murderous barbarians, if it even was the Committee—Mazhar has always been dangerous, dear.”
They continued to discuss rumors about the fallen Tuls aristocracy and the dangers of similar worker revolts in Verinde. With little to add and not much interest in the latest theories of Committee conspiracy, Emily pondered Missus Casey’s story while waiting for an opportunity to politely excuse herself.
When her moment finally came, Emily paused to compliment Lady Wending’s floral arrangements. Leaning down, she sniffed at the flower Missus Casey had pointed towards and discretely plucked away the third leaf down.
Quickly tucking it into her chatelaine, Emily thanked the Lady for their hospitality and slipped away, leaving behind the sound of whispers and muffled gasps of scandal. At Emily’s age and supposed rank, Lady Wending was sure to have many titillating speculations upon her marital status. Emily had no doubt those scandalous theories would be shared as soon as Lady Wending thought she was beyond hearing.
Roderick was standing outside the house as she departed, and Emily gave him the sort of secret smile that had never failed to charm him, back when they were both a bit younger. His bashful reaction was everything she remembered and for a moment, made him look just as he had when they first met.
His footman hailed her a taxi and echoed the district of her supposed destination to the driver. Once the driver had rounded the block, Emily leaned forward and corrected him. Unfortunately, the imaginary Miss Emily Vonnut spent time in far nicer places than Miss Emily Loch.
Reaching down to the purse tucked under her top skirt, Emily jangled it, wondering exactly how much money she had left in it and wishing she had been less habitually parsimonious with how much she chose to carry that morning. She grimaced at the two extra intersections rounding the block would add to her fare and tried to think of a closer address from which she could walk to her next destination.
~
“Tuls Burglars Once Again!”
Once again, the city has been struck by a crime of audacious magnitude and success, witnessed by many, yet Chandler’s Crossing has been entirely unable to collar the culprits. Mister Gelmont Freer’s home was struck by daring rooftop robbers in the middling hours of last night as he conducted a private entertainment for his closest acquaintance on the floor below.
It was by fortune alone that Missus Freer stumbled upon the burglary in progress, and her hue and cry summoned party guests to the upper level and neighbors to their windows. Upon hearing the alarm, the burglars leapt through the upper windows and ascended to the rooftop above. Mister Freer and several of his guests attempted to give chase, but the burglars leapt across neighboring rooves with elf-like grace and quickly vanished into the night.
By all accounts, and by their garb, the burglars were said to be Tuls. As the police have proven useless in this affair, your editor has joined in with Mister Freer in submitting a formal request to the government to halt all further immigration of refugees from that country until our native safety from such predations can be assured.
– Gemmen Standard, 8 Tal. 389
~
- CHAPTER 7 -
Gus rode the elevator up to the floor that housed the reception for Phand & Saucier, ignoring the discomfort in his leg and standing straight in an effort to seem professional as the operator shuttled him up. It was important in places like this, he had found, to look like he belonged.
Slouching or chatting with the elevator operator would be noticed by the receptionist when the doors opened, and the receptionist’s reaction would be noted by their boss, earning Gus a completely different sort of welcome. When the gate was opened on the twelfth floor, Gus held his left leg stiff and stepped out into a surprisingly bustling center of enterprise.
He had expected that, with one of the principal partners abducted, the various employees would be at something of a standstill. When he was in the army, soldiers seldom found tasks of their own if there were no officers around, but Phand’s subordinates hurried about as if nothing were amiss in their operation. If they worked this hard while Phand was gone, perhaps it was Saucier who signed the paychecks.
The reception area beyond the elevator was a large open space with a high ceiling, and at the center of it stood a strange spike of twisted metal. To Gus, it most resembled an abstract artist’s rendering of a lace-draped fir tree—small crisscrossing strips of steel arranged on a triangular base rising to a narrow point at the top. It reminded him of when Adelaide had dragged him to art shows with modern pieces, before she gave up endeavoring to explain their appeal.
Gus supposed the
intricate structure might have some appeal only understood by bridge makers. The metal column was at least five feet tall and supported nothing at all but was seated prominently upon a table at the center of the reception area. He stared at it for several moments, trying to figure out what it was for, when a voice at his elbow surprised him by saying, “Magnificent, isn’t it?”
The young man standing there seemed familiar, but Gus couldn’t place him at first, so he replied amiably, “Oh, yes. Quite. Your work?”
The man laughed and shook his head, “No, sir, I’m afraid all I contributed was rivet counting; but then, any part in it will be something to be proud of forever.” Still not sure what the big deal was, Gus just nodded as he pretended to admire the thing. “Were you ever able to catch up to Doctor Phand? Obviously, any meetings he had will have to be handled by someone else until he…”
The young man was obviously unsettled by recent events. Gus didn’t really recall the man’s face, but he did remember getting directions from someone that afternoon. Looking over at him, Gus said, “We met the other day, didn’t we?”
The man smiled faintly in affirmation. People loved to be remembered, and Gus had found they would often give even the most casual acquaintance far more information than they would share with some curious stranger, so with a friendly smile, Gus grabbed the young man’s hand and shook it enthusiastically as he said, “I never caught you name, though! Have you been with Doctor Phand very long?”
“Norville, sir. Norville James. I was lucky enough to catch the doctor’s attention right out of school, so I’ve been working here for almost a year now.”
“James, you say? Any relation to the famous soldier?” At the blank look, Gus replied, “First to kill an Everlord in Gedlund? It was in all the papers. There was a parade in his honor.” It was a stretch—it was hardly an unusual surname, and Gus had only ever seen the famous man in passing, but claiming a shared acquaintance never hurt.
Norville shook his head, “Sorry, sir. I was still in primary school at the time and didn’t really follow all the war news. I had some uncles who were naval officers, but certainly no soldiers in the family.”
The very idea seemed repellent to Norville, and Gus supposed it was with good reason—upstanding people didn’t serve as common soldiers, so no one of Norville’s class would ever acknowledge a relation who did, no matter how heroic their career. In retrospect, it had been a risky gambit, and Gus just hoped he hadn’t alienated the man by suggesting it.
Gus’s own family was never so lofty as to produce officers and engineers, but they had still disowned him when he took the Queen’s Coin. He had won medals and enjoyed some brief renown upon his return, but that wouldn’t redeem him in their eyes. Being severed from his family had never bothered him much, truth be told, so he’d made little attempt to reconnect. It bothered him less, in fact, than being reminded he was old enough that he had been off fighting monsters while Norville here was still learning his letters.
In the back of the office, past reception, Gus caught a glimpse of the men Phand had met at the rail hub and gestured vaguely towards them as he said, “Seems he had a few important meetings planned too. Or is everything all settled now?”
Following his gaze back, Norville replied, “With the Exposition Council? Oh, no, sir. I’m afraid that’s a bit of a mess still. We were hoping to have the papers signed this week, so we could begin arranging our construction contracts, but obviously we’d need Doctor Phand to sign the agreement, and well…”
Gus nodded sadly, “What about Saucier? His name’s on the door; surely he could sign?”
The young engineer sighed and said, “Well, that’s part of the problem. He’s been out of touch for weeks. There was some art collection he was keen to see, so he took vacation while we were waiting to see how the Exposition’s finance hearings came out. We’ve wired all the hotels again, trying to locate him, but so far no response.”
“Really? That seems rather inconvenient for you,” he replied while suspecting that it seemed rather all-too convenient for each partner to have disappeared just in advance of some stage in this deal.
The two men from the train began to work their way out of the offices, the younger pausing to greet each of Phand’s employees as he passed. At first, he just seemed excessively gregarious, but then Gus realized the man’s older companion, limping stubbornly along with a cane, was just barely keeping up with his colleague, and the pauses were a discreet way of letting him catch up.
As the younger one approached, he smiled warmly in their direction and said, “Mister James! My apologies for disrupting the order of the interviews this morning, but Mister Thomas and I would miss our train back if we waited until this afternoon.”
Norville flushed a bit as if embarrassed to even be addressed and shook his head, “Oh, no, think nothing of it, Mister Sylvester. I’m glad we could shuffle things around to let you keep your schedule.”
Sylvester smiled pleasantly as Mister Thomas caught up to them, the older man frowning petulantly as if he felt the need to counterbalance Mister Sylvester’s positivity. They stared at Norville expectantly a moment, and then the young engineer finally caught on and looked to Gus, “Oh! Yes, may I present Maurice Sylvester and Rain Thomas, representatives from the Council for the Aelfuan Exposition. Sirs, this is one of Doctor Phand’s associates, Mister—” The young engineer paused as he suddenly realized he had never quite gotten Gus’s name, and his cheeks flushed even redder at the misstep. They had seemed likely to be prominent gentlemen when Gus first laid eyes on them at the rail hub, but Norville’s reaction certainly confirmed their status here.
With a smile, Gus stepped forward to shake their hands, “Gus Baston.”
Both men shook his hand. Sylvester’s grip was friendly enough, but Thomas’s was surprisingly strong and stiff, squeezing tightly as Thomas’s steely eyes searched his, silently daring him to show any sign of weakness. Gus gritted his teeth in a forced smile as he endured it.
Eventually, the older man released his hand and gave a grim nod as if satisfied with whatever he had discovered in that test. Thomas leaned heavily upon his cane once more and asked, “What is it you do, Mister Baston?”
Gus smiled at the question as he pondered the best answer, but ultimately decided there was no need to dissemble under the circumstances. “Actually, I’m an investigator, sir, hoping to find out more about Doctor Phand’s abduction.”
Of course, he left out who he was investigating on behalf of, hopefully letting them draw their own conclusions without needing him to extemporize an employer they would cooperate with. Even still, Norville looked over at Gus as if he had suddenly sprouted horns.
Reminded of something by that, Sylvester lit up and said, “Oh, Mister James, I believe I’m supposed to send in the next interview.” He paused and looked to Gus, then said, “Unless you’ve already handled it?”
Uncertain what these interviews were all about, Gus just shook his head and gestured Norville onwards. The young engineer gave an awkward farewell, still looking troubled by the revelation of Gus’s purpose here. Looking back to the Exposition Council members, Gus said, “I’m afraid I only just arrived, sirs. Who is conducting the interviews?”
Sylvester glanced over at Thomas, looking thoughtful a moment, which made Gus worry he might have tipped his hand as a private inquiry agent, but then Sylvester said, “I believe he introduced himself as Detecting-Inspector Clarke.”
Mister Thomas nodded, scowling as if that were a stupid thing to waste his time discussing, and Gus hoped neither had noticed him wince when they mentioned Clarke’s name. The older businessman reminded Gus of someone, but he couldn’t quite place it. He somehow seemed even less congenial now than he had for the handshake, so the last thing Gus wanted to do was give any sign of his unease at the presence of his governmental nemesis.
Hoping an informal conversation would draw a bit more out of them than Ollie Clarke would have managed, Gus aske
d, “So you gentlemen are headed back to Khanom now?”
Sylvester grinned and jovially replied, “Oh, yes, holes to dig and slaughter to be done, so we must away home.”
It sounded like a quote or paraphrase of something, but Gus hadn’t the foggiest idea of what, so he just smiled as if he had caught whatever reference was being made and then asked, “So what is it you gentlemen do, when you’re not running the fair?”
Thomas scowled, but Sylvester laughed merrily, “Oh my, what must you think of us then? Slaughtering and digging holes? We’re honest entrepreneurs, Inspector Baston. I run the Khanom Mineral Company, and Mister Thomas is, of course, the largest supplier of meats in the Empire.”
“Oh! Of course,” he replied, laughing with Sylvester. Pretending to be an official of the crown was a crime, of course, but being mistaken for one wasn’t, so Gus let Sylvester’s error in his title slide. He doubted the detecting-inspector down the hall would see much of a distinction between that and flashing a faked badge, but Gus wouldn’t be paid if the police found Phand before he did. “I imagine this whole kidnapping business is rather inconvenient for both of you. Will you just finalize the deal with Mister Saucier once you return home?”
A look passed between the two businessmen, and Mister Thomas shook his head and said, “Saucier lives here in Gemmen. I’ve no meetings scheduled with him either way.”
Sylvester nodded and said, “The same for me, I’m afraid. It was odd he didn’t arrange an appearance during our visit. He’s not missing as well, is he? Do you suppose he was somehow involved in all this?” Sylvester frowned slightly, his merriment seeming dimmed at the prospect of some sordid complication between the partners.
Gus smiled, raised his hands and said, “Oh, no, someone had merely mentioned to me that Mister Saucier was traveling, so I thought he might be meeting with you. With Doctor Phand missing, you’ll need his partner to sign off on the thing, won’t you?”
