The Sensaurum and the Lexis

by Richard Dee

  “How do you know where we are, and how to get us back to Metropol City, now that we cannot use the Aero?”

  She opened one of the compartments in her belt and took out a folded piece of cloth. As she unfolded it, Jackson could see that it was covered with fine markings. She held it up. Fully two feet across and made of a fabric so thin that it was almost transparent, he recognised it as a map of the southern half of the country, with rail and roads marked. There were blocks of tiny script by the towns and other points of interest.

  “Look,” she pointed with her nose, “this is Rodney’s estate and we are headed west, away from the rising sun. There is the Aero-field, and here, this line is the rail.”

  Jackson wondered what else might be in the belt, and why he had been so stupid as to leave his at the inn. He would have to tell her. But before that, he had seen a clear mistake in her route.

  “But,” he said, “it’s east, not west, to get to the city, we are heading in the wrong direction.”

  “We walk this way,” she said with a sigh, “precisely because it is the wrong thing to do. Rodney, or his minions, will have searched our room at the inn by now, and found our travel plans for our return to the capital. He will be searching for us at the Aero-field and the nearest rail halt to Hammerham. His mobiles and charabanc will be driving along every road around. So we walk across country, away from our destination, to foil his plans. He will not search for us in this direction; he will expect us to take the fastest way home.”

  “Then what do we do to return?”

  “We head to the next large town, which is on the coast,” her nose indicated a place called Port Lucas, “and there we take passage on a steamer to Queinton, where we alight and take the rail to the city. We can call Langdon by speaker from Port Lucas, pass our intelligence without eavesdropping Watchmen and get any instructions he may have, before we set sail.”

  “How will we pay for all this?”

  She opened another pocket in the accursed belt. “Here is money, enough for passage and food. You have the same in your belt. All we need to do is get to Port Lucas, it’s about two days and a night’s good march.”

  She put everything back in the belt. “Come on,” she said, “we are rested, we can make some time before the sun rises too far. According to my map, there is a village ahead, perchance we can get food there.”

  They set off down the road, which was laid to gravel and easy to walk along. There was no traffic; if any vehicle had approached they would have heard it clearly. After several hours, Jessamine called a halt.

  “How much further to this village?” asked Jackson, his ankle was behaving itself, now the pain had become a dull ache.

  “We will get there soon,” she said. “Do you want to rest a while?”

  “I think I do,” he said.

  Jessamine pulled Jackson into the ditch and behind a thin hedge. “Very well, we rest here,” she said. “Try and get some sleep, we will carry on when afternoon turns to evening and the skies darken. By my reckoning, we will arrive in the village in the early morning.”

  Jackson lay down but he could not sleep, hunger gnawed at his stomach. He looked around, Jessamine was already sleeping, then he saw that there were some plump red berries on a tree in the hedge; were they safe to eat? As a City boy, he knew not. He would have to wake Jessamine to ask her.

  He was just about to do so, when he heard the sound of equines coming up the road, iron shoes crunching on the gravel. There were three of them, moving fast, one on each side scanned the hedge for signs whilst the other, in the centre, looked down for footmarks. Their hiding place in the ditch meant that Jackson’s eyes were level with the equines’ legs, he noted that one had a distinctive blaze of white and ginger on a foreleg. Jessamine had awoken; her eyes wide with fear, she held Jackson tightly and they lay still until they had passed and the sound of hooves had faded into the distance.

  They stood and brushed leaves from their hair and clothes. “They have cast a wider net than I expected,” Jessamine said. “I suppose that now they have not found us at the inn, they will be desperate to silence us before we can report what we saw. Rodney must have sent riders in all directions, my guess is that they will go ahead to the village and ask after us. Perhaps it will not be safe to stop there and seek assistance.”

  More days without food. Jackson’s stomach rumbled in protest.

  “Oh look, Jackson,” said Jessamine, “cloud berries.” She reached up and picked a few, eating them quickly, red juice running down her chin. Jackson was relieved, he did not have to show his ignorance. He too grabbed at the berries and ate. They were sweet and delicious, bursting in his mouth to release their flavour. Together they gorged on the berries, stripping the branches bare.

  “It’s in my pack,” she said at last. “I can bear it no longer.”

  “What is?”

  “Your quip-belt, you left it in the room at the inn, yesterday. I put it in my pack.”

  Relief flooded over Jackson. “Why did you not tell me before?”

  “I wanted to see how long you took to admit forgetting it.” She

  put her hand on his arm. “It’s alright, Jackson. We all make mistakes, but if we are to work together, we must be totally honest with each other.” She rummaged in her bag and passed him the belt. Gratefully, he clasped it around his waist and attached the safety chain to his braces.

  The riders never returned, they must have passed on and returned via another path to the estate. They trudged on through the night, resting briefly in turn.

  The village loomed into view early the next morning. Now that Jackson had his belt he had been able to study the map. It was more of a hamlet, nestled between hills with a small river running through the centre. There was no Local so no steam power, all their needs would be met by the force of the water, turning shafts to drive clockwork winders or machines like those in the factory. It was unlikely that they even possessed a speaker. Certainly he could see no line of wooden poles, with the cables strung between them.

  It was a simpler life here in the countryside, probably unchanged for many years. After his recent experiences, Jackson could see the attraction. In all likelihood, they would know little of the city, they might not even know of Nethersole or flying machines. He could see three sets of farm buildings, flocks of grazing ovines and fields of grains, almost ready for harvest. There were also a handful of workers’ cottages shown on the map. By turning it, he aligned it with his view. The legend, finely printed, said the place was called Hopewell, as well as the message, ‘ale and rooms may be had’.

  Chapter 24

  Before going into the collection of dwellings, they hid in trees and watched. Men came out of the houses and went to the farms; they would be workers on the land and with the beasts.

  From one of the cottages, a woman appeared and started to hang out washing, bed-sheets and gowns, on a line strung between two trees. “Let me go and talk to her,” said Jessamine, pulling her skirts from her pack and wrapping them around her waist. “I will tell her we are on a walking tour and ask to buy food. Wait here for me, if I sense danger I will try to signal to you. If I don’t return, you must keep going and get to Port Lucas, find a speaker and warn Langdon.”

  Jackson watched as she made her way to the cottage. She had a brief conversation with the woman, then they both disappeared into the house. As Jackson waited, he took the chance to examine the contents of his belt in more detail. He found that he was the possessor of more money than he had ever seen in one place before. There were bandages, some capsules whose function he had no idea of, the map, lucifers for lighting fires and many other tools and strange objects.

  He was startled by the return of Jessamine, she was smiling.

  “We are in luck,” she said. “The three riders passed here yesterday. They were asking all about a pair from the city. I have told her that we hail from Stynehouse, that we are in government service and walking to Port Lucas, as training for some unspecified purpose. Y
ou have hurt your ankle and we lost some of our equipment when an ursine attacked our camp. She will give us food, her man is taking a load of fodder to the barracks at Port Lucas on the morrow, we can lodge the night and ride with him if we wish.”

  Jackson knew that Stynehouse was miles away from Hammerham; perhaps it would be good enough to allay suspicion.

  They entered the cottage; a coal range was warming the room. “Sit and be comfortable,” said the woman. The woman served them Char and introduced herself as Laurinda Boodel, wife of Osmon. She bustled about in the kitchen, returning with a bowl of hot water, from which fragrant steam issued, together with a towel and bandages. “Take off your boot, sir,” she instructed Jackson. Sitting in front of him she bathed the swollen, bruised ankle with the water, her hands gentle.

  “The herbs and the warmth will aid recovery,” she said.

  “Thank you,” replied Jackson, his ankle was feeling better already, whether from the bathing or the suggestion of healing he could not tell. He put his sock back on and tied the boot tightly.

  “Now you must be hungry,” she said. “My man will return for his luncheon shortly, I will introduce you over a bowl of stewed meats and roots; all will be well.”

  Osman Boodle had to stoop to enter his cottage; he was the largest man Jackson had ever seen, dwarfing the freaks in the entertainments. He seemed to be one solid muscle, his beard thick and grown long, the tip near to his navel. Black eyes gazed at the pair. “Woman,” he said, in a voice that echoed, “who are these two?”

  “They are on an expedition,” she said. “The man has injured his

  leg, attacked by an ursine they were, between here and Stynehouse.”

  He looked suspicious for a moment. “Stynehouse eh? And just when we have been told to watch for strangers on the road from Hammerham.”

  “We have seen nobody on our travels,” said Jackson, “save the ursine, which was not as large as you by the way. Just big enough and angry enough to disrupt our plans.”

  “And what exactly were those?”

  “We are training for the military,” said Jessamine. “We have to get from Stynehouse camp to Port Lucas as fast as possible.”

  He looked suspicious. “Is this for the Watch?”

  “Not exactly, we are employed by a government department that works on all sorts of things.”

  “Hmmm,” said the man, suspiciously. “Do you know aught about journals?”

  They both shook their heads.

  They dined in silence on a rich stew and, when Osman had returned to the fields, spent the afternoon in conversation with Laurinda, or at least Jessamine did. Jackson sat in the chair and rested his ankle. He could hear the two chattering like a pair of corvines, about the Ladies who Lunch and many other matters that he would have thought Laurinda to be ignorant of. He must have dozed off; he was awoken by Jessamine with a steaming mug of Char.

  “We are to stop in the guest room,” she said. “The bed is made up, a meal is provided and hot baths are waiting. I think we would be best to retire soon after.” There was something about her expression that told Jackson this was not a suggestion.

  He stood. “Come then, wife, let us say our goodnights.”

  Once safe inside the room, Jessamine whispered, “The lady is no problem, it is her man and his friends who may be. I want to keep out of the way until the morn, once we are on the road we will see how the land lies.”

  They bathed and sat in the room, talking about the best way to describe what they had seen to Langdon in a call by speaker. From that, their thoughts turned to events in the city, had there been any more acts of sabotage? It was even possible that the information they carried had become common knowledge, whilst they were stuck at the other end of the country.

  Much later, they heard Osman come back, it sounded by his clanking and booming that he had been imbibing ale. “Where are the strangers?” he shouted, then, “Don’t hush me in my own house, woman, help me with my boots.”

  They could not hear Laurinda, just her husband’s comments. “They spun you a story and I suspect you fell for it. We were talking in the ale house; they appear two days after Rodney’s estate has had an intruder, when there is a hunt on. Never mind what they say, Stynehouse or Port Lucas, it’s all a yarn.”

  There were a few moments of quiet, then he began again. “No, I don’t think they are the folk Winstanley is seeking. They seem to be incapable of much in the way of espionage. And that story about training, well that’s a likely tale. As far as I know, neither the Watch nor any service has female agents, at least not out in the country. ’Tis not women’s work. Mark my words, they are runaways from an angry father, maybe she is with his child.”

  Jackson and Jessamine exchanged relieved glances, their story might not be believed, but at least he did not outwardly say he suspected them of being at Hammerham.

  In the bed, Jessamine seethed. “Not capable,” she muttered. “I suppose he thinks me only able to carry your child, no doubt he assumes you tricked me into that as well?”

  Jackson wisely decided against replying, shortly after that the shouting stopped. Osman must have fallen asleep.

  Laurinda woke them in the darkness. “Osman is ready to depart, he bids you join him on the cart.” They dressed and collected all their gear, this time, Jackson made sure to wear his belt. Downstairs in the yard, two huge equines were stood in the traces of a cart filled with hay bales.

  Osman sat on the seat, there was no room for another. “I have moved some bales,” he said, jerking his finger over his shoulder at the stow. “There is a hollow for you to lie in. Jump up now.”

  They did so and before they were settled, Osman whipped the equines off and they lurched onto the road. Osman set a ferocious pace, as if the beasts were made of metal and tireless, they were too far away to talk to him and indeed could not see anything from their perch. It was more than an hour before the sun even arose. Once the day was lit, Jackson stood for a better view. Immediately, the breeze whipped straws which stung his face and he quickly sat again.

  “Look to the side,” suggested Jessamine and she stood to show her meaning. She had her head turned to the left and seemed able to withstand the buffeting. Jackson stood next to her and looked to the right, it was bearable. By closing his left eye he could make out their progress. The road led on over low hills and through woods. The space was so restricted that they were pressed together and they held each other for balance. After a while Jackson felt Jessamine leaning into him more and more. He was quite enjoying the warmth of the contact when, with a jolt, Osman stopped the cart. By now it was mid-afternoon, the last distance post they had spied reckoned that Port Lucas was but three miles away. At the top of the hills, with their extra height they had already seen the sea and the chimneys of the town.

  As they looked down, Osman fed the beasts, using a bag of grains that he hung over their necks. “Come down,” he called. “I will not hurt you and I’m brewing Char. They climbed down and drank. He had a package of sandwiches, cold ovine and onion slices, together with apples. They shared it in companionable silence for a while.

  “What is the truth of your tale then?” Osman asked. Jackson tensed, his hands felt for the truncheons on his leg. Would he have to fight to save them? Could he best this mountain of a man?

  “It’s alright,” Osman said gently. “I mean you no harm. I’m not sure if you are the ones at Hammerham. And then again, I have no time for your training yarn, although you may have convinced Laurinda. You are either runaways or you are spies. Believe me or not, I happen to hate Rodney Nethersole, though my workmates all think him a wonder. I can judge a little about him through his use of Winstanley and that alone tells me he is not what he wants folk to think he is. You do not deserve to be caught by that man, even if you have done him ill. That is why you are hidden in the gods. We are safe enough to eat for a short while.”

  “What of what we heard last night?” Jessamine asked him calmly. “You seem to have changed your
tune.” Jackson could see that her hand had crept under her gown; he imagined her pulling the needle pointed knife half from its sheath on her thigh. Osman would struggle if they both attacked him at the same time. He readied himself for her signal.

  “Laurinda is Nethersole’s niece,” he said. “It would not do to show my true feelings, for apart from her fealty to him, her only fault by the way, I love her dearly. She will doubtless be telling her uncle’s riders of your visit by now, once she has, they will be after us. Now, if you have finished your food, get yourselves out of sight, Port Lucas is but an hour away. We need to get you there and disappeared before we are caught.”

  They arrived in Port Lucas almost exactly an hour later. “I should hand you over to the Watch,” Osman had said, as he helped them down. “For my conscience and your own safety, let them decide the right of it all. But the Watch in Port Lucas is no better than that in Hammerham, so I will drop you here at the dockside hotel. Your fate will then be in your own hands.”

  They thanked him and he left, heading towards the port office with his load.

  They stood in the street, in front of the hotel, relieved to be safe. They had reached Port Lucas, the first part of their escape was over.

  “We need to use a speaker,” Jackson said. “It has been four days since we reported in, who knows what might be happening in the city, or indeed the country? The information we have could be crucial.”

  “Let us get into the hotel; they may have one of the new direct

  lines to the exchange in the capital.” They brushed most of the straw from their hair and entered the hotel.

  The concierge was a little perturbed at their appearance and request for a room. “You wish to stay?” he eventually spluttered. Jessamine produced a bank note; folded it small and pressed it into his pocket. Instantly, he changed his demeanour.

  “Of course we have a room,” he said, washing his hands with invisible soap.

  “I also wish to book a call, to Metropol City,” she said.