Brown River Queen (16 page)

“Ain’t got much choice, do I?”
 

Buttercup saw Mama and leaped from Darla’s arms, racing toward Mama without bothering to put her dainty banshee feet anywhere near the
Queen’s
fresh-scrubbed deck.
 

“What are you doin’ out of bed, you barefoot devil?” croaked Mama without malice. “What are we going to do with you, child?”

Buttercup kissed Mama on her cheek and started running in circles around her.

“Thank you for the meal,” said Mama. She took a final puff from her cigar before throwing the remnants out into the river. “We’d best be getting home.”

She took Buttercup by the hand, and off they went.

Darla and I watched them go.
 

“Did Mama mention Gertriss and Evis?”
 

I nodded. “She did. Claimed she wasn’t planning on causing any trouble. Said it was none of her business.”

Darla raised an eyebrow.

“Think she’s telling the truth?”

“Not a chance.”

“I hope you’re wrong. They’ve got enough to worry about without Mama causing trouble.”

“I hope I’m wrong too. That’s bound to happen someday, you know.”

“What is?”

“Me being wrong.”

She kissed me, right there on the riverfront, where passing barge-hands could have seen
—
had it been daylight, and had any barges been passing.
 

I risked public scandal by kissing her right back.

It must have been the moonlight.

Chapter Nine

Life aboard a boat takes on its own unique cadence.

Mornings, for instance. Bells rouse the crew from slumber. The crew, once roused, proceed to swarm the decks performing various nautical tasks, all of which involve swearing, banging, stomping, and more swearing, usually followed by a spirited round of beating on one heavy iron thing with another.

Darla and I took to burying our heads beneath our pillows, which more or less worked until the engine crew began the day’s piston test. That shook the
Queen
from bow to stern and, on two occasions, filled the hallways with thick clouds of smoke.

We never moved, and the
Queen’s
massive red paddle wheel never turned. Evis remained confident, waving off my concerns with a grin and a shrug. “It’s a new boat, Markhat,” he said. “Plenty of time to get her ready.”

By my count, the
Queen
was set to take aboard her well-heeled passengers and steam for Bel Loit in eight short days. Given that the
Queen
was still full of ladders and workmen and a betting pool had emerged on the question of whether the big red paddle wheel would turn or strip her gears, I decided Evis’s nonchalance was forced, if not outright fabricated.

But, as Darla pointed out, that wasn’t my concern.

I made it my concern to memorize the
Queen’s
layout and get to know as many of her crew as I could. So I did what some say is what I do best and made a nuisance of myself.

I wandered the
Queen’s
gangways, drink in hand, and accosted anyone foolish enough to stand still. Then I asked whatever questions came to mind—how much coal were we storing, how many Ogres work below decks, where can I get another glass of beer, and so on.

I wasn’t so much interested in their answers as I was the way in which they answered.

Only the
Queen’s
good captain, a grey-bearded gent named Samuels, with piercing blue eyes and a soft voice, invited me to get the hell out of his way so he could get to work, and I could damned well find my own way to the nearest beer-barrel.
 

The rest ran the gamut from obsequious toad to surly coal-shovel man. None broke down and confessed to any dastardly plots under the sheer intensity of my steely glare, and I lamented this sad fact to Darla on the evening of our fourth day aboard the
Queen
.

She put down her book and smiled at me over the tops of her reading glasses.
 

“Perhaps, dear, you aren’t drinking enough beer.”

I sat down on the bed beside her.
 

“The beer is just for show. People are more likely to talk if they think the man they’re talking to is a bit tipsy.”

Her expression didn’t change.

“I met the Captain today. We had quite a nice chat. Seems to be a competent sailor, and more importantly, he has a well-trimmed white beard.”

“I heard he nearly had you clapped in irons.”

I imitated Evis and his dismissive wave. “That’s just how us old sea-dogs talk. I’m very nearly first mate. Maybe even boatswain.”

“What exactly is a boatswain, dear?”

“And just how did you hear anything, new bride of mine? I thought you were going to spend the day reading.”

“I have my secrets.”

“So how is Gertriss, since Mama’s little visit?”

“Troubled. Evis?”

“Evis is Evis. Not a care in the world. Should he be worried?”

She took off her glasses and laid them on her book. “We should all be worried, I imagine. Any news from your friend Miss Stitches and our woman problem?”

“None yet.” I laid down and stretched. Bones popped. “Did you bring that fancy pocket-watch Evis gave you as a wedding present?”

“I did.”

“Good. I want us to take a stroll or two later on. From one end of the
Queen
to the other, from deck to deck, all around.”

“Why, pray tell?”

“Where did all those soldiers come from when Mama showed up?”

“I’ve wondered that too. But it was dark and they’re halfdead. They could have been standing in the shadows all along.”

“I thought that too, at first.”

“But not now.”

“Not now. Avalante isn’t going to station armed halfdead in every corner once the casino is open. No, they had to have another way of moving from place to place.”

“Why not just ask Evis?”

“I will. But only after I know the answer.”

“And men claim women are needlessly indirect.”

“I’m thinking like a villain. A villain wouldn’t ask Evis. They’d observe, find a weakness to exploit.”

Darla grinned and rested her head on my chest. “So you’re a villain, aboard the
Queen
under false pretense. How would you go about causing trouble?”

“Fire. I’d just set a few fires, and hope to stab someone important in all the confusion.” Even alone in our room, neither of us cared to mention the Regent by name.

“That sounds dreadful. But effective, I suppose.”

“Not at all. The
Queen
is equipped with pumps and pipes—if a fire starts, she gets doused with river-water. People get wet, meals are ruined, but no one burns.”

“Let me try, then.” She thought for a moment. “Poison. I’d get into the kitchen somehow and poison a dish.”

“Some people will bring their own tasters and wand-wavers.”

“Quite a few won’t. And if half the dining room fell over dead, well, that would be trouble for Avalante, wouldn’t it?”

 
I stroked her hair and nodded. “Good point. Remind me to prepare my own supper from now on.”

“Hah. So what were you thinking, if not fire or poison?”

“I’d have a brace of cannon waiting just north of Bel Loit. Open fire and hope for the best.”

“I hope Evis has thought of that.”

“He has. Claims the
Queen
has anti-cannon spells, and that they’ve got patrols out on both sides of the Brown.”

“You don’t seem reassured.”

“Haven’t seen a wand-waver yet who could stop a volley of cannon fire.”

She was silent for a moment. I nearly drifted off but Darla shook me awake.

“Let’s go for that stroll you promised,” she said. “I’ll get the pocket-watch. You should shave or they might mistake you for an Ogre and ask you to shovel coal.”

I stroked my chin. “I’m more likely to make Captain if I grow a beard.”

Darla rose. “Well, until you do, you’re still my husband the finder, and I’m bored, so let’s go find something.” She predicted my thoughts. “Something that isn’t beer.”

I sat up and yawned. “Yes, dear.”

She darted into our bathroom and threw a towel out at me. “There you are, Captain.”

I rose and found my razor.

A leisurely stroll from the
Queen’s
blunt bow to her shiny red wheel took all of four minutes on the wide outdoor deck that surrounds the casino’s stained glass windows. The same walk through the second deck’s cherry-paneled halls
 
took three and half.
 

I made it in two at a run. Add a flight of stairs and a pair of inquisitive Avalante foot soldiers, and it’s a hair over two and a quarter minutes.

Going from the casino to the Regent’s well-guarded rooms takes three minutes if you’re not in a hurry. The looks we got from the wand-wavers stationed there suggested people who arrived in a hurry might meet with the kind of reception that leaves ugly stains on the floor.

Darla spoke. “So what did all that prove?”
 

We leaned on the rail and watched the sluggish Brown River flow.

“Double those times, if the boat is full. Triple them if there’s a panic and a rush.” I took off my hat and let the breeze dry my sweaty forehead. “That’s the weak spot I was looking for. The stairs are bottlenecks. Catch a certain someone in his room. Raise a ruckus somehow. You’ve got a good five minutes before Avalante can shove halfdead soldiers in your face. That’s a lot of time for mischief, my dear. A lot of time.”

Darla nodded and put her hand on mine. “Surely they’ve thought of that?”

“They did. And they came up with a solution. I’m just not sure it’s good enough.”

“We saw a dozen armed vampires appear out of nowhere the instant an alarm was raised.”

I put my hat back on. “That we did. But the place was empty. And if my guess is correct, they probably can’t keep more than half a dozen halfdead anywhere near our special guest’s room.”

“There are hiding places in the walls?”

“Have to be. All that fancy wood trim? All those burnished cherry panels? I can’t think of a better way to hide a sneaky door.”

Darla reddened. “If I find a single peep-hole into our room I’m going to stuff Evis into one of his boilers.”

“I’ll help. Let’s go find a secret door and see where it leads.”

“We’ll need a candle and some matches.”

“And beer. We might get lost and wander for days.”

“That’s why I married a ham-fisted brute, dear. So you can break down doors before I get thirsty.”

I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out a box of matches and a pair of new candles. “Look what I found. What a coincidence.”

Darla laughed, grabbed the end of my tie, and we went in search of the
Queen’s
hidden passages.

Finding the first trick door took all of an hour. Some master craftsman had concealed the doorframe so cleverly I couldn’t see it even after I’d convinced myself it was there.

But there it was, in plain sight. Finding the hidden latch and getting it open took another twenty minutes.
 

Explaining what we were doing opening a secret door to the wary halfdead gunmen who spilled out of the dark required a mere five minutes, and culminated in an even briefer conversation with a bleary-eyed Evis through his barely-opened door.

“I wondered how long it would take you to find them,” he muttered after a whispered exchange with his fellows. “You might as well come on in. Got word that Stitches hit the brunettes. Waiting for news now.”
 

The halfdead gunmen left without a backward glance. Evis vanished from his door, leaving it cracked. I heard him shuffling around in his dark room, and then a lamp flared.

“I’m decent,” he called. We opened his door and stepped inside.

Evis’s suite had no windows. Every wall was lined with books and scrolls and charts. A big, plain, oak desk sat in the middle of the room, covered with papers. A green glass magelamp hung above the desk, simulating twilight. There was a short couch and two comfy high-backed padded chairs and what I hoped was an icebox for keeping beer in a corner.

Evis closed the only other door, which I assumed led to the adjoining bedroom. A sliver of light showed at the bottom, and if Darla and I saw a brief shadow pass across it, we both pretended we’d been looking elsewhere.

“Sorry to roust you out at this hour,” I said.
 

He shrugged and motioned for us to sit. We took the couch. He collapsed in a chair and turned to face us. “So you found the dunways.”

“Dunways? The hidden doors?”

“Technically, the passages behind the doors. But yes. Well done. What tipped you off?” His eyes glinted in the dim light until he reached for his spectacles and put them on.

“Best way to move armed staff around without causing a fuss,” I said.