Brechalon (11 page)

“
Would you like something to
drink?” Terrence asked.

“
Is there a waiter?” wondered
Iolanthe, looking around.

“
No, there’s a snack kiosk over
there.” He pointed to a small shed just beyond the visiting team
hutch. “What would you like?”

“
I don’t suppose they have any
wine.”

“
I doubt it.”

“
A beer then.”

Terrence took his place in the queue, only
occasionally looking back at the game. He wasn’t really that
interested in cricket, even though he had played it at university.
There was no point in telling Iolanthe though. Once she had her
head set on something, it wasn’t likely to change. He purchased two
bottles of beer, which came in tall brown bottles with cork
stoppers.

Just as he turned around to leave, he was
approached by a young woman with long red hair. She was dressed in
a long brown skirt and a white blouse and looked as though she
might have just come from a factory job. She was pretty, in a
course sort of way, and she wore no makeup.

“
Can you help me, Sir?” she asked,
and then turned and began to walk away before Terrence could
answer.

He shrugged and followed her, a beer bottle in
each hand, around the corner of the kiosk and between a pair of
small sheds. As he made the second corner, Terrence came face to
face with three men. Two of them were brandishing knives. For a
second he didn’t recognize them. Then suddenly he did. They were
three men outside Blackwood’s. The memory of the white opthalium
made his eyes water slightly. What was it that Blackwood called the
first fellow… Mickey, Mikey, Mika?

“
Thanks luv. Hurry on your way,”
said Mika to the girl, who quickly left. He then turned and smiled
unpleasantly at Terrrence. “You’re so happy t’see me your eyes are
waterin’ eh?”

“
I’m sentimental,” Terrence
replied.

The toughs had chosen their spot well. They
were shielded from the street by a hedgerow and from the cricket
game and the spectators by the sheds. Without conscious thought,
Terrence’s mind ran through his options. He could drop one of the
beers and go for the pistol in his pocket. He could simply bash the
bottles into a couple of skulls. In either scenario, he’d probably
take at least one knife blade. He could always yell for help. There
were plenty of people within earshot, probably even a copper.
Again, he’d probably get stabbed. Besides, he’d never yelled for
help in his life.

“
Care for a beer?” he
asked.

“
I’m goin’ t’enjoy lettin’ the air
outa you.”

Suddenly there was a loud report followed by a
wet smack and the man behind Mika, Mika’s brother Terrence suddenly
remembered, dropped to the ground with a massive hole in his chest
pouring out blood like a johnny pump. Before anyone had time to
think or to move or to think about moving, three more shots rang
out. The beer bottles in Terrence’s hands exploded and a good
portion of Mika’s jaw was ripped off his face. He dropped to the
ground with a gurgled scream, while the third man in the group
turned and ran. Terrence turned to his left, still holding the
shattered remains of the bottles, to find Iolanthe in a cloud of
gun smoke, a forty five caliber pistol pointed in his general
direction. It was an exact match to the one in his pocket save only
that hers had a pearl handle.

“
Kafira’s tit, Iolanthe! You almost
hit me.”

“
You’re welcome,” she replied,
closing her left eye and taking a bead on the fleeing man’s
back.

“
Let him go,” he said, and looked
down at the sad remains of Mika, now whining pitifully.

A police constable came jogging up from behind
Terrence, followed by a few cricket players, one carrying a bat, as
well as a few stout fellows from the grandstand.

“
These men were trying to rob my
brother,” said Iolanthe, stepping forward.

“
Oh, it’s you, Miss Dechantagne,”
said the constable. “Are you injured?”

“
No PC, thank you for asking, but I
believe one or both of the men I shot may be in need of ambulance
service.”

The constable knelt down and checked Mika’s
brother for a pulse.

“
This one doesn’t need an
ambulance. He’s dead. What are these boys doing so far from the
Bottom?”

“
Not to belabor the point,” said
Iolanthe. “But I believe they were practicing daylight
robbery.”

“
Even so. Will you be leaving
now?”

“
Of course not. The match is not
over.” She flipped open the revolver and used her fingernail to
pull out the spent cartridges. “Come along Terrence.”

The constable left for the police telegraph box
to call for an ambulance, while a man from the grandstand rendered
what aid there was to give. Everyone else, including the
Dechantagne siblings wandered back toward the game. Terrence, who
was still holding the spouts and necks of the broken bottles,
dropped them in a dust bin as they rounded the corner to the snack
kiosk.

“
Where did you have that pistol?”
he asked. “You don’t have a handbag.”

“
I have plenty of room for it under
my dress.”

He glanced at his sister’s form. While the top
of her dress was very form-fitting indeed, the bottom half of her,
thanks to her bustle and voluminous undergarments, blossomed out to
such a degree that she could have hidden the arsenal for the good
part of a rifle company within her skirts.

* * * * *

“
I make a hundred and fifty feet,”
said Lieutenant Arthur McTeague, without taking his eyes from the
binoculars.

“
Decrease elevation two degrees,”
called Lieutenant Augie Dechantagne.

“
Ready!” called Corporal Worthy
from the centermost 105mm howitzer.

“
Fire.” There was a long pause and
then a distant explosion.

“
Oops. You’re long,” said McTeague.
“I mean, longer.”

“
Kafira damn it!” yelled Augie. “I
said decrease elevation! Decrease!”

“
Sorry sir! Ready sir!”

“
Fire!”

“
On target,” said McTeague, after
the wait.

“
Lay down a pattern of fire!” The
five guns began rapidly firing, only to be immediately reloaded and
fired again.

McTeague lowered his binoculars and pulled his
earplugs from his pocket. Stuffing them into his ears, he walked
over to stand next to Augie.

“
Why are we shelling this village
again?”

“
I didn’t ask,” Augie
replied.

“
Do you suppose they’re going to
counter-attack?”

“
It’s not my job to worry about it.
It’s theirs.” Augie pointed to the line of Royal Marines, their red
coats and white pith helmets clearly visible halfway between the
guns and the lizzie village that was rapidly becoming a flaming
hell.

“
Well, I suppose they needed to be
taught a lesson. Put the fear of God and his Majesty into
them.”

“
This will certainly teach them
something,” said Augie.

* * * * *

“
It says here that the remaining
robber will be moved to Herinnering Gaol as soon as he is ready to
leave hospital,” said Mrs. Colbshallow, her face buried in the
morning paper. “And Miss D is being considered for a Citizen’s
Safety Award.”

“
It’s considered safe to shoot two
people now, is it?” It was Merriman, the main floor butler. “If I’d
shot two men, I’d be in jail. She shoots two men and they give her
a bloody medal.”

“
Best not to think things like
that,” said Zeah.

“
Especially out loud,” added
Yuah.

“
It’s you, Yuah, that she usually
wants to shoot,” said Barrymore, the upstairs butler,
grinning.

“
She can’t shoot me. She couldn’t
live without me.”

“
Don’t get cheeky,” said Zeah. “I
had to hire four new ones this week.”

“
Well, it’s not as if these men
didn’t deserve to get shot,” said Mrs. Colbshallow. “Imagine trying
to rob someone in broad daylight. We need more police, that’s what
we need.”

“
I’m going to be a copper in a few
years,” said Saba, walking in from the front hallway and sitting
down.

“
No you aren’t,” his mother
informed him. “I would be forever worrying. It’s far too dangerous
for any child of mine.”

Saba didn’t reply to his mother or point out
that he was the only child of hers. He just scooped up large mounds
of fried eggs, white pudding, and sausages. Mrs. Colbshallow went
back to commenting on the news, particularly how information of the
coming eclipse did not belong in the weather section. With Saba’s
addition there were eleven people eating breakfast in the servant’s
hall at that moment, a good portion of the staff having already
eaten and started on their morning duties, and those few who had
the overnight shift had mostly already gone to bed. Marna, one of
the last of the latter group came in from the side hallway, looking
like she could fall asleep on her feet at any moment.

“
Yuah, Master Terrence wants to see
you,” she said.

“
I’m not interested.”

“
I’m just the
messenger.”

Yuah turned to look at Marna, and saw Terrence
standing in the hallway several paces behind her.

“
I’m not his valet.” With careful
precision, she lifted her chin into the air and turned back to the
table. “I’m the dressing maid.”

A minute later, under the guise of reaching for
a scone, she cast a sideways look at the spot where he had been
standing to find that he was now gone.

* * * * *

Karl Drury was a shadow of his former self--
literally. As far as anyone knew, he still made his rounds through
the fortress of Schwarztogrube, he still hurled insults at almost
everyone, and he still stuffed his ugly face in the mess hall. If
he beat some of the prisoners less than he used to or abused the
boys less than he used to, who was going to complain about that?
The only one who seemed bothered by Drury these days was Nils
Chapman. He began to shake every time Drury entered the room and he
refused to look at him. But Chapman knew what nobody else did. That
was not really Karl Drury. The real Karl Drury was dead. He had
dropped the sadistic guard’s body into the ocean himself. Of course
Nils Chapman was a shadow of his former self too—figuratively. His
eyes had gone dull and his skin was pale. He didn’t sleep anymore
and he could hardly eat.

“
One thousand nine hundred eighty
three days,” he muttered to himself over and over again, from his
spot, curled up in a ball in the corner of cell eighty
nine.

“
Don’t worry, Pet.” Zurfina reached
down and stroked his hair. “It’s almost over. This time tomorrow
we’ll both be gone.”

Chapman grabbed hold of her leg and held it
close as he kept his eyes pressed tightly shut. He couldn’t bear to
see the walls, all four of which were covered in ghastly markings
of smeared blood, and all four of which pulsed and throbbed
sickeningly.

Chapter Eight: Day One Thousand Nine
Hundred Eighty Four

“
What do you have there?” asked
Zeah.

“
It’s magic glass,” replied Saba,
holding up a small square of very dark but very shiny
material.

“
This conversation sounds like the
beginning of a fairy tale. Did you trade your magic beans to get
this magic glass?”

“
Don’t be silly Mr. Korlann. I
didn’t have any magic beans and this cost me 75P.”

“
Good heavens. Why would you pay
seventy five pfennigs for that?”

“
For the eclipse.”

“
Eclipse?”

“
Sure. There’s an eclipse today.
Almost a full one. If we were in the channel it would be full. It
would get dark in the middle of the day.”

“
Oh, yes yes. It was in the paper.
I imagine it will be spectacular enough right here in Brech City.
But what is the glass for?”

“
Haven’t you ever heard that you
shouldn’t stare at an eclipse because you’ll go blind?”

“
Of course.”

“
I can’t tell you how much that has
worried me since I found that out,” said Saba. “I’m always afraid
that I might accidentally look at the sun and it would be just my
luck that there was an eclipse going on right then and I would go
blind.”

“
Well, first off, there’s nothing
special about an eclipse that is worse on your eyes. Stare at the
sun anytime, eclipse or no, and you risk damage to
your…”

“
Anyway,” the boy interrupted. “I
got this glass so I can watch the eclipse. You can stare at it all
day through this and not get blinded. Can’t see a bloody thing
through it now though.” He tried to look at the head butler through
the small pane held to his right eye.

“
Let’s hope it really works,” said
Zeah skeptically. “I trust you bought it from a reputable
dealer.”

“
Sure. I got it at the potion shop
on Avenue Phoenix. They’re selling loads of them. If it doesn’t
work, they’ll be hip deep in angry blind people.”