The 7th of London (18 page)

Dimmer walked over to the shop stove and thrust the blade into the coals. “Are you prepared to share yet, Mr. Kildeggan?” In lieu of an answer, Heph spat a fantastic wad of phlegm, hitting Fairgate square in the eye. “Good,” Fairgate growled, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping his face as Dimmer brought the short sword down on Heph’s left thigh, the red hot blade cauterizing the stump as it sliced. Heph screamed bloody murder. “Delightful,” Fairgate purred, sniffing deeply the scent of seared flesh. “Ready to talk?” the villain asked, smiling.

“You’re going to have to do better than that,” Heph panted. Fairgate shrugged, and Dimmer chopped down on Heph’s other leg. Another scream erupted from Heph’s throat.

“That looks like it stings, Mr. Kildeggan.” Fairgate crouched next to his prisoner. He reached out and pressed two fingers into Heph’s burned stump. Heph roared. “Anything to say now?”

Instead of answering, Heph laughed in Fairgate’s face, which went crimson with fury. That was the last thing Heph knew as his vision darkened and unconsciousness claimed him.

He was surprised when he woke up, unsure of how long he’d been out. His legs hurt like the devil and when he looked down at the bandages wrapped around his abbreviated thighs, he groaned, painfully.

“Good. You’re back.” Fairgate crooned. “Ready to talk?”

Heph only moaned in response, ground his teeth, and shook his head once.

“Cut off his arms!” Fairgate barked. Dimmer complied with two quick chops. This time Heph didn’t scream. Fairgate stood. “Well, look at you and your convictions now. The absence of your limbs should be enough motivation for you to finish my Mech-o-Limbs. You can be your own prototype.”

“Ha. I’d rather lay here and die than help you,” Heph wheezed.

“That’s not going to happen,” Fairgate stated, snapping his fingers. A woman ran in and began tending to Heph’s new wounds as Dimmer and his thugs exited. “When you’re ready to begin work, I will send you an assistant with arms and legs to help you, as well as any supplies you might need. Good day to you, Mr. Kildeggan.”

“F
AIRGATE
left me alone with the nurse,” Heph finished his story. Sev and Kettlebent sat with wide eyes.

“Heph,” Kettlebent whispered, but the man held up his mechanical hand.

“It’s something I came to terms with a very long time ago, Silas. That nurse helped me heal, fed me, washed me. She’d had no idea what Fairgate had planned for Carrington and me. I taught her how to build the limbs Fairgate wanted so badly. We had enough supplies without Fairgate’s help. Each day he would send a messenger hoping for my inevitable surrender and each day my nurse would put me in bed, hide our work, and tell the man I was healing but otherwise unresponsive.”

“Muriel?” Kettlebent asked.

Heph nodded. “I’ve refined them since, but she’s the one who built these.” He held up his metal arms. “Once they were finished, I showed her Carrington’s research into this ancient underground city, and we made our plans. We needed allies, and her youngest sister put together our first group of revolutionaries in the clothing factory where she worked.”

“Why children?” Sev asked.

“Why not?” Heph shrugged. “How many adults do you trust, Mr. Seven?” Heph paced while he related his story. Now he paused, awaiting Sev’s answer. Sev only shrugged. “Exactly. And unfortunately, in this city a few missing children are of no concern to anyone. They can be replaced all too easily.

“So that first group of idealistic urchins finished unearthing the entrance Carrington had found beneath London, the entrance to this strange city. Then they helped us move the contents of the workshop here, while a few of them set out to recruit more members.” He sighed before continuing. “When all the arrangements had been made, Muriel told the messenger that I had finally agreed to surrender. She gave him a letter for Fairgate, and we left the workshop. Muriel and I haven’t been above ground since.”

“What did it say?” Sev asked.

“Hm? What?”

“The letter,” Sev clarified. “What did it say?”

“Oh.” Heph smirked. “Nothing. It was just a blank piece of parchment.” Sev laughed. He was really starting to like Hephaestus. “So there you have it, Mr. Seven. The truth. The whole story. Silas hasn’t even heard that little tragedy before.”

“You haven’t?” Sev turned to the other young man.

“No,” Kettlebent confirmed.

“So ye have an army o’children down here, workin’ fer yer revolution. How is that any different than what goes on in the factories up there?” Sev pointed to the ceiling.

“That’s easy, Mr. Seven. Down here, the children have a choice.” Heph turned and pinned Sev with an intense gaze. “Your turn, Mr. Seven. What do you know about Fairgate’s plan for the queen?”

“I don’t know anythin’,” Sev answered. “I stole the journal, but I turned it over t’Jack Midnight. I never looked at it.”

“You can’t be serious,” Kettlebent interjected. “You had a sorcerer’s personal grimoire, and you never even looked at it?”

Sev shook his head. “That wasn’t the deal. I was just supposed t’get the book. Besides, what do I know about magic? I wouldn’t have known what I was lookin’ at.” Kettlebent and Sev were both startled when Heph bellowed laughter.

“Well, that’s that. We still don’t know what that bastard’s up to,” Heph stated. “What about your aristocrat? Will he be able to get the journal from Midnight?”

“I don’t know,” Kettlebent answered. “Those two have a complex relationship. And Midnight is a wild card.”

“That’s true,” Sev added. “He’d keep that journal just t’make sure he had an excuse t’see Sutherland.”

“You stole it once,” Heph stated. “Would you be willing to do so again?”

“No.” Sev shook his head. “I realize Midnight’s a criminal and all that, but I won’t double-cross him.”

“Understandable. Respectable,” Heph muttered.

“Would you at least be willing to look at it?” Kettlebent wondered. “Tell us what it says?”

“Possibly. I can ask Midnight.”

“What? Just walk up and say, ‘Hey, Jack, can I get a look at that journal?’,” Kettlebent mocked.

“Why not?” Sev asked. “He likes me. Honesty and all that.”

“It could work,” Heph agreed. “Good. For now, why don’t you show Seven around the city? Introduce him to some of the children and Muriel.”

“She’s still with ye?”

“Of course,” Heph answered. “You know you’re the reason most of the recent recruits joined us.”

“Me?” Sev asked.

“You’re something of a legend to them. You’d be a great asset to us.” Heph laid a hand on Sev’s shoulder. “Go on.” He shooed the young men. “I have work to do.”

K
ETTLEBENT
led Sev out into the underground city. “What’s all this strange writin’?” Sev asked.

“No one knows,” Kettlebent answered. “Heph’s mentor had some notes on it, but he never had time to figure it out. Don’t look at it for too long. It does things, makes one’s head hurt.” Sev believed it. “That’s why we try to cover up as much as we can. Hungry?”

“I s’pose.”

“We’ll go see Muriel.”

Sev smelled Muriel’s dwelling before he saw it, and his mouth watered. Kettlebent turned a corner, and Sev saw the home they were headed to. The entrance was decorated with paper lanterns and dried herbs. It was the most inviting sight he’d seen in this city of lost children. Kettlebent sniffed deeply. “Mmm. Muriel’s made her stew.” Kettlebent dashed up the steps, and Sev ran to keep up.

The interior was even more warm and delightful. Sev gazed around at the walls draped in variously patterned fabrics, not an inch of stone visible. It gave the dwelling the feel of a tent. More lanterns dotted the ceiling. Even Muriel’s furniture was inviting—warm, polished wood with comfy looking pillows and cushions. Rugs of all styles covered the floor. The cold and damp of the underground couldn’t seem to penetrate Muriel’s space. Sev could hear someone humming happily in the back of the compartment.

The woman who emerged into the chamber was the opposite of Sev’s mental picture of Muriel. He had imagined the nurse as an older woman, stout and strong with severe features and steel-gray hair. This must be Muriel’s daughter or younger sister. She was beautiful, tall, and lean with porcelain skin. Her hair was long. It fell in auburn waves over her broad shoulders. There was strength in her arms but a grace as well. Her eyes were dark brown, almost black, with thick lashes. Her cheeks and slightly upturned nose were sprinkled with freckles. When she saw Kettlebent, her full lips broke into a grin. “Silas, you’re just in time for dinner.” She opened her arms, and Kettlebent embraced her easily.

“Hello, Murry.” Kettlebent released her, stepping back.

“And who do we have here?” she asked, eyeing Sev.

“This,” Kettlebent said and stepped back, “is the young man they call the Seventh of London.”

“Good lord. Is it really?” Muriel asked in a cockney accent.

“Seven, ma’am,” Sev said, offering his hand. Muriel wiped her hands on her apron before she enveloped Sev in a firm hug.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Seven. We’ve been hearin’ so much about you.” She released him, and he heard laughter from outside. A few children entered Muriel’s home, four boys and a girl. A girl Sev recognized.

“Annie!” Sev blurted.

“Sev!” Annie ran over and embraced her old friend. “Ye made it! I knew ye would.”

“Well, it is a small world,” Muriel stated. “Sit down, everyone. It’s time to eat. I’ll fetch some more plates.” Muriel disappeared as the children gathered around the table. Sev could feel Kettlebent’s eyes on him as he spoke with Anne-Marie. She introduced her friends and asked about Sev’s snappy new clothes. Muriel reappeared with an iron kettle and two plates. She spooned stew onto all of their plates, then said a brief prayer and sat down to eat. Everyone at the table spoke easily, discussing the work they were engaged in or who might be next to join them. Many of them had questions for Sev and Kettlebent about the outer city.

After the meal, most of the children departed. Kettlebent helped Muriel clean up while Sev and Annie caught up. He told her about his time in the palace and Midnight’s job offer. She told him of the events that led up to her fleeing Beauchamps. “I have a long day ahead o’me, Sev,” Annie concluded. “I should get home. Sleep.”

“Sure, Dove. I’m glad ye’re safe.”

“Likewise.”

“Do ye have a place t’stay?” she asked.

“He does,” Kettlebent answered.

“It seems I do,” Sev agreed. “I’ll talk t’ye before I go above.” Annie squeezed her friend’s hand and kissed him on the cheek. Sev stood as Anne-Marie left. He wondered at Kettlebent’s scowl as the young man watched her leave. “Where am I stayin’, then?” Sev asked.

“At my place,” Kettlebent answered. “I want to keep my eye on you, and I have the space.”

“Fair enough.” Sev shrugged.

“Here,” Muriel said, bustling out of the kitchen with bundles. She handed one to each of the young men. “Take these. It’s just a little something.” She kissed Kettlebent on the forehead. She turned to do the same to Sev but paused. Sev chuckled and tipped his head, giving her permission to kiss him as well, which she did. “Good night, boys. It was nice to meet you, Seven.”

“You as well, Muriel. Thank ye fer the meal,” Sev added. She waved away the compliment and escorted her guests to the door.

K
ETTLEBENT
and Sev picked their way through the city. They were full and content, walking in relative silence. Sev asked a few questions, and Kettlebent answered them before they returned to the latter’s quarters. Kettlebent set up a military-style cot and retrieved spare blankets and pillows for Sev. “Thanks,” Sev said, placing the pillows on the cot.

“Don’t mention it.” Kettlebent shrugged and crossed to stoke the fire. Sev stretched and removed his coat and shoes. When he sat on the cot, he realized he was suddenly very tired. He yawned. Kettlebent slipped out of his overcoat. “It’s been a long day,” he said.

“It seems like every day is a long day,” Sev observed.

“Well said,” Kettlebent stated. “Seven?”

“Kettlebent.”

“That girl, Annie?”

“What about her?”

“You’re friends?”

“We are.”

“Just friends?” Kettlebent turned away from Sev.

“We’re very good friends, but that’s all.” Sev wondered where this was going. “Why?”

“Just curious,” Kettlebent answered, turning back. “I’m exhausted. I’ll be through there if you need anything.” Sev nodded but remained silent. “Good night, then.”

“G’night,” Sev replied. Kettlebent went into his bedroom, and Sev stripped off everything but his pants and undershirt. It wasn’t more than a moment after Sev’s head hit the pillow that he was sleeping soundly.

F
OR
once, Sev’s dreams were free of flames and screaming. Kettlebent woke him and they breakfasted on the bundles Muriel had sent. Bread, dried fruit, and small canisters of jam. They talked about Undertown, Kettlebent explaining the general layout.

After breakfast they dressed and walked into the city. Sev witnessed workshops and training facilities. He saw a storage space where a few weapons were kept. They ventured past a spot where some children were excavating another portion of the city. Curious, Sev stripped off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves to help. Within an hour they’d uncovered the head of a statue. Its face looked like a monster, with tendrils where a mouth should be. This entire space fascinated Sev.