A Clockwork Fairytale (37 page)

A boot kicked his hip. “Get up!” Rough hands yanked him up beneath his arms and propelled him along a dank corridor.

For a few seconds, he must have lost consciousness from the pain because the next thing he knew he was slapped around the face. He opened his good eye to find Vittorio holding up a lantern, lighting an open cell doorway. “In there,” he commanded. The guards dragged Turk inside and pushed his back against a cold, wet wall. His arms were lifted and the bite of manacles snapped around his wrists. “Give me the key and get out,” Vittorio commanded his men.

The hollow footfalls of the sailors’ boots receded and a thick eerie silence fell. Turk hurt so badly, he couldn’t imagine what else Vittorio could do to him. He dragged in a breath of putrid air through his clogged swollen nose. Behind the harsh sound of his breathing, he heard the scrabbling of rats and the dripping of water.

Vittorio hung the lamp on a hook and stepped up to Turk. “Not so cocky now are you, foreign scum. Your reputation as a spymaster is overblown. You were an easy catch.”

Turk closed his eyes and let his head flop forward, but Vittorio gripped his chin and pushed his head up so he had to face him. “Melba will not want you now your pretty face is damaged.”

She’s not that shallow
. But Turk kept his thoughts to himself. Hearing Melba’s name on Vittorio’s lips stripped away the last of his strength. She had depended on him and he had let her down badly. Yet whatever his fate, he knew Melba would fight Vittorio. She was bright and determined and full of spirit. He wondered what had happened to Dante but the thought flitted away as his own plight returned to his mind. “The Primate will come for me,” he said, his voice gruff and distorted by his bruised mouth.

Vittorio laughed in his face. “Gregorio doesn’t care about you. The last time I spoke with him he was willing to sacrifice you to keep his little monastic kingdom.”

Turk said nothing, but he knew Vittorio lied. Gregorio had warned him to leave Malverne Isle, and helped him.

“The old man isn’t worthy of your respect and admiration, you know. He can’t even keep his most basic vow of chastity.” Vittorio grabbed Turk’s chin again and stared into his eyes. “Of course, you’re pledged to him so you already know that. But I bet he didn’t tell you about
me
. My mother was his betrothed. She should have been queen. If Gregorio hadn’t abdicated, I would be first in line for the throne.”

Turk’s battered body tensed, his aches and pains temporarily forgotten as the shocking meaning of Vittorio’s words sank in. “No.” This despicable man could not be his master’s son.

“Don’t believe me?” Vittorio leaned a shoulder against the wall and levered off one of his boots and stockings. Then he lowered the lantern so Turk could see his bare foot.
Six toes
.

A chill like an icy north wind rushed through Turk. He stared at Vittorio in horror, and acknowledged that the man’s eyes were like Gregorio’s, although he must have acquired most of his looks from his mother. Then another burst of cold shot through him. That meant Dante was also Gregorio’s son. How had his master stood back and done nothing while Vittorio became a monster who poisoned the king and Dante lived on the trash barges?

“My existence was an embarrassment to the old man,” Vittorio said. “He never acknowledged me as his own. I think he only pledged a trash tyke like you to salve his conscience.”

Turk’s head dropped forward and he closed his eyes. He did not know the man behind the primate’s mask who was capable of such behavior. “Does Dante know?”

“Of course he does.” Vittorio grabbed Turk’s hair and jerked his head up. “I found Dante on a royal barge, working in the hold. I raised him. If not for me, he might be long dead and tossed in the sea to rot like so much trash. The Primate of the Shining Brotherhood does
not
care for anyone but himself.” He spat the last words in Turk’s face, and all Turk’s beliefs collapsed like a heap of rotten boxes.

He had been so certain the Primate was good, right, and fair, a man to look up to and follow, while Vittorio was simply evil. Now he wasn’t so sure.

“If Gregorio is so virtuous and upstanding, why has the king not spoken with him for decades?” Vittorio asked. Turk’s mind blanked, unable to think anymore. He had chosen not to broach that subject with his master.

“Santo is a good man,” Vittorio said softly. “He’s the victim of his brother’s misdeeds.”

Turk might be confused, but he wasn’t that confused. “Gregorio did
not
make you poison the king,” he said.

“It’s his fault that I was forced to.” Vittorio backed up and dug something out of his pocket. “You’re the old man’s accomplice, and you dared steal my betrothed. I’ve looked forward to punishing you.”

As Vittorio stepped closer to the lantern, Turk got a look at what he held in his hand. His heart kicked and raced at the sight of a small icy metal box. “Don’t do this.”

“A challenge for you, spymaster Turk. Your reputation on the street suggests you are almost invincible. Raise an Earth Jinn to protect yourself.”

Turk barely had the strength to hold up his head, let alone raise and control an Earth Jinn. “I’m not trained to use Jinns in conflict.”

“Well, you had better learn fast.” Vittorio prized the lid off the box and a small dark twister rose into the air. “This little chap will entertain you tonight while you wait for first light.”

Turk blinked, ignoring his sore eye and concentrated on watching the random path of the Foul Jinn. It hadn’t sensed him yet. He must remain calm. If the Jinn felt his fear, it would home in on him like a gull to scraps.

“Don’t you want to know what happens at first light?” Vittorio asked.

Turk was too busy concentrating to answer.

“That is the time set for your execution in The Well.”

Fear cold and hard as a blade slashed through Turk. The random wanderings of the Foul Jinn ceased and it headed straight toward him.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Imagine everything works out well and it will
.

—Master Maddox

Vittorio had trussed Melba up like a Great Earth Day goose and shut her in a sedan chair to transport her from the brothel. When they arrived at the Palace, he locked her in her suite. She paced back and forth across her sitting room, her insides churning with fear and frustration. Her mind continually replayed the way Vittorio had beaten Turk. She hated Vittorio, hated him with every scrap of her being. She would not spit on him if he was on fire.

Vittorio had gloated over his plan to execute Turk in The Well at first light. That meant Turk must be in the cells beneath the Royal Victualler’s office at the harbor.

She gripped Turk’s silver medallion in her fist. He had left the pendant in the brothel but she had managed to slip it in her pocket without Vittorio noticing. She sensed the Silver Serpent inside the metal but although she entreated the Jinn to come out and help her, it wouldn’t.

Her continual pacing wasted energy so she went to her bedroom and fetched her starlight stone from her dressing table. She flopped down on a chair and curled her fingers around the stone. With her eyes closed, she concentrated as hard as she could on thoughts of Turk so he would hear her. “I love you, Turk. I shall rescue you. I swear on me life, I shall.” She tried not to think that he might already be dead.

Her breath came in painful little gulps and she dashed away her tears with her fists. She refused to let Vittorio beat her. She returned her precious starlight stone to its drawer and stared out of the sitting room window, racking her brain for a way to get out of the room. Full dark had fallen and the city spread below her twinkling with points of light. The Palace’s secure location on top of the hill meant nobody could enter via the skyways. It also meant she had no chance of escaping that way. She stared miserably down the sheer drop from her window to the rocky outcrops below.

The sound of the key turning in the lock interrupted her thoughts and she hurried across the room to put a solid sofa between herself and the door. Vittorio came in, locked the door behind him, and pocketed the key. He smiled. “Melba, I hope you have recovered from your ordeal.”

His fake courtesy as if he wasn’t the cause of her ‘ordeal’ got on her nerves. “You stinking sack ’o dung. You knocked the Earthlights out of Turk. I hate you.”

Something dark and dangerous slid through Vittorio’s eyes. “
Never
speak to me in that tone again. Tomorrow you’ll become my wife. If you ever mention the spymaster monk’s name again I’ll punish you.”

“I ain’t never marrying you.”

“You need elocution lessons,
ma’am
. You sound like scum.”

“If you hadn’t kidnapped me and taken me to old Maddox I would talk proper.”

Vittorio looked startled then his jaw tightened. “Dante told you it was me, did he?”

“What have you done with Dante?”

Vittorio averted his gaze. “Forget him. He’s leaving the island in a few hours.”

“Even if you send away all the men I like, I still ain’t marrying you. I’d rather marry a scabby old docker who stinks of pee.”

He slammed his hand down on the back of a chair. “You do
not
have a choice. I am in control now, young lady, so get used to it.”

Swinging around, Vittorio unlocked the door, opened it partway, then turned and narrowed his eyes on her. “Take off that tat and go to bed. You have a busy day tomorrow. I’ll send you a lady’s maid in the morning to help you prepare for our wedding.”

Dozens of insults flowed through her head, but in the few seconds the door was open she noticed the bluejacket stationed outside staring at her, his face a mask of confusion. He was the same young guard who had apologized to her for putting her in the cage.

The door slammed shut and the key turned in the lock. She pressed her ear to the wood and heard Vittorio’s footsteps fade. She hoped the young guard could be persuaded to help her.

“Hey, you out there,” she said.

For long moments nobody answered, then a man cleared his throat. “Do you mean me, Your Royal Highness?”

Melba flattened her palms against the door and eagerly leaned closer. “What’s your name?”

More silence and some foot shuffling. “Antonio, ma’am.”

Melba closed her eyes and prayed to the Great Earth Jinn to help her. “You heard me tell the Royal Victualler that I won’t marry him, didn’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“When the Royal Victualler is charged with treason for poisoning the king and imprisoning me, all his men will go down with him.” She waited a few seconds for the guard to digest this information. “If you let me out now and help me, I’ll make sure you can stay on as a Royal Guard.”

She heard his breath hitch as though he was struggling with himself. “Me pa was a Royal Guard for forty years, ma’am. We’re loyal to the Ferilli family.”

Working for Vittorio was not being loyal, she thought, but she didn’t want to discourage him. “If you are loyal to me family, then open the door.”

More silence. Melba’s fingers curled into fists against the wood, willing him to turn the key. At the scrape of the lock, her legs nearly gave way with relief. She stepped back as the door swung open. Pulling it wide, she poked her head out, then beckoned Antonio inside.

“I’m acting on behalf of the king. You must do exactly what I tell you.”

The young guard nodded. No wonder Vittorio had made him obey orders. Despite his height, Antonio was little more than a boy and he looked terrified.

“Are there any other guards on this floor?”

“His honor still has four men protecting the king.”

Protecting him from his daughter and his friends, Melba thought, with a burst of anger. She wanted to go to her father, but she had to rescue Turk first. “Do you know what happened to the men who were arrested at the brothel?”

Antonio shook his head. “I don’t know nothing about that, ma’am. I ain’t left the Palace.”

“I need to get out of the Palace and you must help me.”

He nodded obediently.

Melba needed a disguise and she knew just where to find one. “We’re going down to the lower level via the servant’s stairs. If anybody sees us, you must pretend you’re escorting me. Now come on.”

Melba poked her head out of the door again and listened. She locked the door behind her and pocketed the key, then hurried toward the stairs, thankful that she didn’t need to pass the guards outside her father’s rooms.

When they reached the lowest floor, she made her way to the laundry room where she and Turk had found clean togs weeks ago. Towels and linen were stacked on the wooden slated shelves as if nothing had changed since her last visit. She hurried to the corner where Turk had tossed their old clothes, praying they were still there. Feeling beneath the shelves, she pulled out Turk’s old bluejacket’s disguise and her brown suit. A mouse had chewed holes in Turk’s jacket and built a nest in one of the sleeves. Although her brown suit smelled of mice and mold, luckily it wasn’t nibbled.

She ducked behind the same shelves where she had changed last time. “Watch the door,” she commanded Antonio.

She pulled off her old togs and stood in her underthings, her flower Jinns fluttering around her. The memory of sneakily watching Turk change crept into her mind and a wave of almost unbearable grief made her crouch and press her face to her knees. What if Vittorio had already killed him, or had tortured him so badly he would never recover? By the time the bluejackets had carried him out of the brothel he was seriously injured. If Turk died, she didn’t want to live without him.