Killing the Machine (Aboard the Great Iron Horse Book 2)

by Jamie Sedgwick

  “Must’ve scared ‘em off,” said Vann. “Look, they’re loading the muskets back onto that wagon.”

  Kale grabbed one of the blunderbusses he’d kept loaded on the table next to him. “Cover me,” he said. “I’m going to find out what this is all about.”

  Kale stepped out through the end of the car. Vann and Loren watched him walk across the railroad yard, towards the constables. Thirty feet away, a coach came speeding up next to him and slammed on the brakes.

  The driver exchanged words with Kale, and then spun the coach around and disappeared back into the city. Kale watched him leave and then returned to the dining car. He tossed the blunderbuss back onto the table, and settled on his stool.

  “Well?” said Vann. “What’s all this about?”

  “I’m not sure,” Kale said. “Give me an ale.”

  Vann blinked. “Wha… I don’t understand. What did he say?”

  The warrior shrugged. “He said River and Socrates lost their case in court, but the mayor has a plan to get us all out of here.”

  “What mayor?” said Vann.

  “Court case?” said Loren. “What did he mean?”

  “You know as much as I do. Apparently, River found Socrates. That’s what I’m taking from it.”

  “That’s it?”

  “No. The driver said the mayor has a plan. He said we need to sit tight and wait for further instructions.”

  “I think we should go find her,” said Vann. “The police are gone, so there’s nothing stopping us.”

  “No,” said Kale. “He specifically warned me about letting any of you go into town. He said it was nothing but trouble, and judging by the way things have gone so far, I’m inclined to believe him.”

  “So what, then?” said Vann. “We just sit here and wait?”

  “I haven’t decided yet. I need to think about it. Where’s that ale?”

  “Comin’ up,” said Vann, reaching for a glass.

  “This could be a trick,” said Loren. “I’ll tell the others to stay on guard.”

  Kale nodded and took a sip of his drink.

  “That won’t cure a broken heart,” Vann said in a low voice after Loren had gone. “Maybe you should just tell her how you feel.”

  “And maybe you should just pour drinks and shut up.”

  Chapter 25

  As River disappeared into the crowd, Socrates rose to follow her.

  “Wait,” the mayor said, putting a hand on his arm. “Driver, follow her as fast as you can!”

  The driver flicked the reins, and made a clicking sound with his tongue. The draft horses plunged forward, throwing the passengers back into their seats. Socrates nearly fell over, but he caught onto the side of the sleigh and steadied himself long enough to sit back down.

  Clumps of snow and ice flew up from the horses’ hooves, hammering into the front of the sleigh. The street was busy with carriages and pedestrians, but the driver wove an expert course right through them. He let out a loud whistle now and then, warning pedestrians to get out of the way.

  They caught up with River at the corner adjacent to the Larkin Tower. She was turning in slow circles, staring into the crowd with a perplexed look on her face.

  “What’s going on?” Socrates demanded, leaping out of the sleigh.

  “It was Burk,” she said. “I know it was him. He just disappeared.”

  “Ah,” said the mayor. “I think I can explain everything.”

  They turned to stare at him. “Climb back up. I’ll tell you everything while we finish our tour.”

  River reluctantly agreed. As the sleigh pulled away from the corner, the mayor took a deep breath and began to speak:

  “I apologize for not telling you this sooner. I was looking for the right time, and I thought… well, I just didn’t want to further upset you.”

  “What are you trying to say?” said River. “What do you know about Burk?”

  The mayor glanced back and forth between the three of them. “Your ex-crewman is working for the magistrate.”

  “What!” River yelled.

  The mayor took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “When Burk arrived, he made a good impression. He sold your supplies and your train to the city at a bargain price.”

  “That’s because it was all stolen!” said River.

  “Of course. We know that now, but at the time… anyway, during the course of the negotiations, the magistrate mentioned the engine trouble he had been having with his airship. Burk offered to repair the engine, and the magistrate hired him.”

  River’s jaw was hanging open. She glanced over her shoulder at the Larkin building, now several hundred yards back. “He’s in there?” she said. “Burk is in that building?”

  “Most likely, yes.”

  “Stop the sleigh!”

  “No!” the mayor said, raising his voice. “The Larkin Tower is heavily guarded. If you attempted to enter that building, you would find yourself right back in jail. I won’t allow that.”

  River slammed her fist down on the side of the sleigh. “What are we supposed to do?” she said. “Burk stole everything from us. After what he did… Socrates might not have survived. Do you understand that? Can you even imagine what he’s cost us?”

  “Listen, I’m not telling you that Burk is going to get away with it. You must understand, these things take time. The city has dropped all charges against you. We can pursue justice now, but you must have patience. We will set things right in due course.”

  “In due course?” said River. “Socrates, do something.”

  The ape stared at her silently, his mechanical pupils pulsing as the snowflakes wafted through his vision. River let out a frustrated snarl.

  “I’m beginning to see what justice means in your city, mayor. Three men tried to rape me last night, and possibly murder me, but your police arrested me for defending myself. The constable is walking free right now, probably looking for a chance to do the same thing again to some other woman, and the man who caused it all, the man who stole everything from us, is a business partner of your magistrate. I see what sort of place New Boston really is. It’s the sort of place where anyone might make a simple mistake, or inadvertently cross some invisible line, and have their entire life destroyed. I think I prefer the Forgotten City. At least there, it was easy to tell the good from the evil.”

  The mayor listened patiently to her rant, and when she was through, his response was sympathetic. “You are right about many things. I don’t blame you for feeling this way, but I promise you, I will seek justice through every avenue available. We will settle all of this, in time.” He settled back into his seat. “But not right now. Tonight, you are my guests, and one way or another, I will prove to you that New Boston is not all evil. Driver, take us to my residence, if you please.”

  The mayor’s home was a mansion located on a hill north of town. It was six p.m. when they arrived. The sky had cleared, but the night had grown frigidly cold. As the sleigh parked in the drive, several of the mayor’s servants rushed to greet him at the front door. They were all formally dressed, the men in black suits with white shirts, and the women in matching dresses. The servants took their coats as they ushered the group into the foyer.

  “You have a beautiful home,” River said as they entered.

  If there was anything accusatory in her tone, the mayor ignored it. “Thank you,” he said cheerfully, “but it doesn’t belong to me. One day, someone else will be elected mayor and I’ll have to move. Not too soon, I hope,” he added with a wink.

  “Good evening mayor,” said one of the servants, a tall elderly gentleman with a hawk-like nose. “Everything is prepared, per your instructions. Your guests should begin to arrive shortly.”

  “Thank you, Bryn.”

  The mayor turned his attention to the adventurers. “My apologies, Socrates, but I must confess a slight deception on my part. I am hosting a sort of party tonight, and I insist on having all of you as my guests. I assure you, it will
be an evening to remember.”

  “It seems we are your prisoners then,” Socrates said with a wry grin.

  “Nonsense! You are free to leave if you wish. However, I will be deeply hurt if you reject my invitation. Please stay for a few hours. Enjoy my home. Bryn will see to all your needs. What is mine is yours, as the old saying goes. Enjoy the comforts of this old mansion while I still have them to offer.”

  “We would be honored,” said Socrates.

  “Excellent! In the meanwhile, I have some business to take care of. Bryn will show you to the east wing where you can rest and clean up for dinner. If you need anything, just ring and Bryn will see to it.”

  With that, the mayor disappeared up a long, curving staircase. Bryn led the group down a long hallway, through a series of extravagantly decorated rooms, each more impressive than the last. They ended up in some sort of recreational room filled with games and shelves full of books.

  “The bar is there,” Bryn said, pointing at the back wall. “The baths are through those doors. Should you require anything else, ring the bell.”

  Micah flopped himself down on a plush, luxurious sofa. “I’ve got all I need right here,” he said, grinning. He laced his fingers behind his head and closed his eyes. Socrates walked over to the library and began browsing through the books. He picked out several volumes, settled down at one of the desks, and began scanning the pages.

  River didn’t waste another second. She slipped through the side doors, into the bathing room, and found herself surrounded by half a dozen large wooden vats of steaming water. She wasted no time stripping off her clothes, and settled into the bath that was nearest the outer wall.

  The windows offered a commanding view of the city lights, and the bay to the east. She positioned herself on one of the underwater benches so that she could gaze out at the lights, while the tingling warmth sucked the stress out of her aching body.

  River’s bruises had almost disappeared, and her cuts had scabbed up nicely. She suspected the marks on her back would leave scars, but that didn’t concern her. Such concerns were for women like Shayla, who wore fancy skirts and carried umbrellas everywhere they went. Now that she thought of it, New Boston seemed just about perfect for Shayla. Maybe for Thane, too. River hadn’t made up her mind about him yet. She had half a mind to kick them both off the train. Not that it was River’s decision anymore. She would gladly turn over that responsibility to Socrates.

  “A gift from Master Cronwyn,” said a voice behind her. River turned to see Bryn setting a wooden box on one of the chairs by the door. He draped a long towel over the back of the chair and turned to leave.

  “Wait!” River said. “Bryn, tell me something.”

  He approached the bath, his gaze locked on her own. “Ask what you will, and I will answer if it is in my power.”

  “The mayor,” she said. “You must know him better than anyone. Why is he doing this? Why the gifts, the royal treatment? Surely, he doesn’t treat everyone he meets this way.”

  A smile came to Bryn’s eyes. “Surely not, madam.”

  “Then what is it? What does he want?”

  Bryn looked away, his glance straying to the cold lights glinting in the distance. “Redemption, if anything. Don’t look beyond that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He turned back to her. “The mayor is a good-hearted man. Too good perhaps, to rule in a city such as this. It pains him to see injustice and corruption around every corner, and yet that is the nature of this place. He is torn between the need to serve his high moral ideals, and the need to survive.”

  River frowned. “Do you think he’s in danger?”

  “No more so tonight than any other night. But that is the delicate balance of his position.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Byrn took a breath. “Corruption, my dear. Power breeds it. Men bow down to it. The mayor sees it all around him.”

  “Why doesn’t he do something about it?”

  “He does what he can, when he can, but what can one man do in such times? If he becomes too proactive, the mayor will anger the wrong people, and that will not only endanger himself but also his family; his wife and children, even his parents and cousins. So, in order to protect them, he must calculate his moves, like a game of Pawns.”

  “Pawns,” River said absently.

  “Yes. Politics is ever such a game, is it not?”

  “What does he plan to do with us?”

  “I do not know this,” said Bryn. “If you seek my opinion, I can only offer this advice: Trust in the mayor to do the best he can, but do not trust those around him. While he seeks justice, others around him work tirelessly to foil his plans. Right now, I believe he is looking for an opportunity. He will seize it, if it comes, but don’t count on it.”

  “Thank you,” River said.

  Bryn nodded quietly and left the room. River ducked her head under the water, deciding whether she should open the gift or throw it back in the mayor’s face the next time she saw him.

  River wanted to believe that Cronwyn was a decent man and that he truly wanted to set things right. It just frustrated her that he was so passive about it all. He was willing to wait patiently for the slow grind of justice, hoping and praying everything came out for the best. River preferred to take things into hand and be done with it. Perhaps the mayor’s way was more democratic, but it certainly wasn’t efficient.

  While she was bathing, River couldn’t help noticing the lights of the airship that hovered over the Larkin Tower, deep in the heart of New Boston. She stared at it for a while, wondering if Burk was up there, wondering what he might be doing. It infuriated her that he seemed to be getting away with his crimes. Not just that; he was cozying up to the magistrate for protection. There had to be a way to get at him, she thought. He had to leave that building some time.

  If River did nothing else before leaving the city, she was determined to track Burk down and make him pay for what he had done. She didn’t care about the mayor’s promise of justice. She had no faith in it, and didn’t have the patience to wait for it. As far as River was concerned, it didn’t matter if the slow wheels of justice finally caught up to Burk or if it was just her, in a dark alley with a sharp stiletto. In fact, she’d have preferred the latter.

  After getting dressed, River finally decided to open the box the mayor had sent. Inside, she found a tiny music box made of some exotic red wood. Next to it was a small vial of perfume. She skeptically opened the bottle and sniffed at it. To her surprise, the perfume wasn’t flowery and fruity like those worn by Shayla and her ilk. It was different: musky and earthy, but with an indisputable feminine undercurrent that River couldn’t quite place. She dabbed a bit on her finger and touched it to her throat.

  River turned the key on the side of the music box, and opened the lid. An assembly of metal struts and springs rose up out of the box. A quiet melody began to play as the metal frame expanded into a pyramid-shaped tower several inches tall, and a crew of tiny workmen began climbing the struts up toward the peak. River stared in awe as the miniature figurines twisted and danced toward their goal, each little worker no larger than a fingernail, their bodies moving to the rhythm of the music.

  At last, they finally reached the uppermost section of the pyramid. The figurines leaned in, pressing a lever that sent a copper rod up through the top of the tower. The end of the rod began to glow as the music reached a crescendo, and it threw off a bright spark. Then, all at once, the music stopped and the miniature workmen dropped back down the center of the tower. They vanished into the bottom of the box. The copper rod went black as it slid back inside, and the tower folded back down into a flat surface. River closed the box, wound up the key, and opened it back up again.

  When she returned to the main room, River found Micah and Socrates exploring gift boxes of their own. Micah’s contained a supply of sweet pipe tobacco, and Socrates’ box contained a large leather-bound cookbook with hundreds of pages of recipes.


  “It seems our host knows more about us than we do of him,” Socrates said as he flipped through the pages. River and Micah exchanged a glance.

  “He’s not our friend,” said Micah. “You should remember that.”

  Socrates glanced at him, the quiet click and whir of the gears and pistons inside his body barely audible even in the quiet room. “Perhaps you underestimate him, Micah. Eagan has gone to great lengths to accommodate us.”

  “Like pigs before the slaughter,” said Micah. “What happens when the party is over? What will he do then? Let me tell you: he will hand you over to that senile toymaker, who will tear you apart in the hopes that he can copy your design into toys and dolls for little children as solstice night presents. But it won’t work. He won’t understand that until he’s disassembled more than he can put back together. And you, River. The mayor would turn you over to that bitter old judge in a heartbeat if he had to. Don’t be deceived by his gifts of perfume and fancy coats. Trust me.”

  He fell silent, and for a moment they both stared at him. Socrates snapped the recipe book shut, and set it on the table. “Perhaps,” he said. “Perhaps you are right, but I have learned never to underestimate humans, either as my enemies or my friends. I see much of his cousin in the mayor. I believe Eagan is a man who wants to do right. He may lack the moral compass to point him in the right direction, but if necessary, we can always give him a little nudge. But for all our sakes, don’t judge him prematurely. Give the man a chance to prove his mettle.”

  “And the toymaker?”

  “That is an altogether different matter,” said Socrates.

  “I won’t let him take you,” River said. “I won’t risk losing you again, Socrates.”

  “I had no intention of letting that happen,” said Socrates.

  “Then you have a plan?” said Micah.

  “I have many plans. What remains to be seen is which plan -if any- is necessary.”

  Bryn entered the room at that moment, ending their conversation. “Follow me, please,” he said.