The Broken Bell (29 page)

A pair of street kids hopped up on Granny’s porch and gave me a pair of underfed hard looks.

“Whatcha doin’, mister?” asked one.

“Got any money?” inquired the other.

Combined, they weighed maybe fifty pounds, with ten of that being dirt, but they took another couple of steps forward. The dirtiest one slipped a hand in a pocket.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said. “Beat it.”

“He asked you a question, mister.”

“I said do you have any money?”

I cussed and stood up and whipped Toadsticker out. They were off the porch and well into the street before my knees stopped popping.

Granny Knot herself startled me by cackling.

“I seen you, Bobby Doris,” she shrieked. “I knows where your granny walks.”

The urchins doubled their speed. Granny cackled again, shifted her paper-wrapped parcel in her hand, and fumbled for her keys.

“Wonderful to see you, Mr. Markhat,” she whispered with a wink. “I trust you are well?”

I grinned and nodded and put out my hands. Helping old ladies with bags is just another of my many sterling qualities.

“Don’t you be steppin’ on them bees,” she shouted for the benefit of a couple walking past. “I got ham in all my hats. Ham and windows, so the ghosts can see out.”

We stepped inside, and she slammed the door behind her.

“Ham? Hats with windows?”

Granny shrugged. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to babble inanities all day long, Mr. Markhat? I was rather proud of that one. It was both original and intriguing.”

She walked into her cramped kitchen as she spoke, so I followed.

“You’ve come for word from Mama, I presume.”

“I have. Is there any?”

She shoved a bag of salt into a cupboard and nodded. “On the counter. I’ll brew up some coffee, if you like.”

“Thanks.” I spotted the tiny cylinder of tightly wrapped paper on the counter and pulled up a wobbly chair and read.

Boy
, it began.
I done poked a stick in a hornet’s nest, like I had a mind to, and you ain’t never seen the likes of the buzzin’ and the flyin’ about.

This here hex-master ain’t a local boy. I hears he showed up last year and took to lurking around the inns and the taverns, braggin’ about his hex-craft and showin’ off with lights and haints and so on. Damn fools hereabouts ate it up. ’Fore long, he was doin’ regular work, and askin’ dear for it too.

Well, I done put a stop to all that. I told it that he ate up souls and children besides, and when they said about the fever last Yule that took all them babies I said well there you go. The word of a Hog still has some weight hereabouts, I reckon, ‘cause before midnight I had a dozen callers to my door, all itchin’ to tell what they knowed about this here hex-caster.

He come from Prince, jest like I suspicioned. Still wears them Army doggers what you used to favor. He hides whenever wagon trains and stagecoaches stop in town, so I reckon he ain’t keen on meeting up with nobody from Rannit nor Prince neither, make of that what ye will.

He’s done told it around that he’s comin’ after me. I reckon he’s got to now, or hightail it somewhere else, cause I done put the word out on him. I’ll be waitin’, boy, and he’s gonna regret ever hearin’ the Hog name spoke before I’m done.

And there it ended. I bit back a curse. Mama had been long on drama but short on minor details such as names or descriptions or dates.

Granny pulled up a chair across from me and shoved a plate of sugar cookies my way.

“I take it Mama was less than informative?”

I sought out a cookie. Badmouthing Mama to her best friend didn’t seem like the ideal way to pass the time.

Granny chuckled. “She does enjoy the odd bit of obfuscation. But I daresay she will tell all, when the matter is settled.”

“She may be going up against a former army sorcerer,” I said. “I hope the matter winds up settled in Mama’s favor.”

“You will find Mama equal to her task. The coffee is ready. You take yours black, I believe?”

All the sugar in the world wasn’t going to take the bitter out of Granny’s brew, which resembled tar in both flavor and consistency.

“I do. These are good cookies.”

She smiled and poured. I thought about Mama facing down one of the horrors we troops used to avoid even though they were on our side and a literal shiver ran down my spine.

“Samuel, leave the gentleman alone, this instant.”

Granny glared at the empty air above me until I felt the faintest of breezes and the icy fingers running down my spine departed.

I stood.

“Oh, sit back down. That was only Samuel, out for a bit of mischief.”

I sat, but only with difficulty. Sometimes I forget what Granny does for a living.

“Now then.” Granny put a cup in front of me. It steamed and smelled of chicory. “Mama tells me you’ll be getting married soon.”

I nearly choked. “Mama tells a lot of things she ought not to.”

Granny’s bright little eyes sparkled. “She says she saw your wedding, with her Sight. Claimed there were fireworks in the sky, a band was playing and a priest was saying the words.”

“Fireworks.” I shrugged. “We haven’t had fireworks since before the War. Can’t even get them now. Hang burned to the ground, twenty years ago.”

“Nevertheless. That is what Mama described. And soon, she believed. Did you know she can tell how far in the past or the future her visions extend?”

I snorted and hid it behind my raised cup. Mama and her visions. She sure as Hell hadn’t seen a bunch of pig farmers trooping toward Rannit, knives drawn and my name on their lips.

And she hadn’t seen any visions of what army sorcerers did during the War, or she wouldn’t be so eager to yank the hex-caster’s nose.

Granny raised her cup. “Well, I suppose we’ll see,” she said after a while. “And please don’t worry about Mama. She’s far more formidable on her home soil than she is here, and even here she’s faced down vampires and emerged victorious.”

“Can’t argue with that.” I drained the cup and rose. “Thanks, Granny. I’ll check back tomorrow, see if another letter has arrived.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll send a boy if one comes. Samuel tells me you have an active few days ahead of you.”

“Does Samuel have any sage advice concerning these active days ahead?”

Granny cocked her head and was quiet for a moment.

“He says, and I quote, ‘Tell that there fool he’s ta be mindful of archers if’n he wants to stay above the ground.’ I’m afraid Samuel is a bit of a rustic.”

“Thank him for me.” It never hurts to be polite, even to thin air that was probably as empty as the Regent’s heart. “Take care, Granny.”

“You do the same, Mr. Markhat. Remember what Samuel said.”

“Always.”

And then I was out on Granny’s porch, blinking in the sun. The pair of toughs I’d scattered saw me, threw a pair of poorly aimed rocks my way, and vanished. A shimmering in the air that flew past my face suggested Samuel decided to seek them out and teach them a lesson about throwing rocks at Granny’s porch.

I had to walk all the way back to the genteel end of Elfways to hail a cab.

Darla added a cushion to my chair. I refused to ponder the implications of that as I waited for business to slow down.

I didn’t need to wait long. The snatches of conversations I managed to catch were mainly concerned with cancellations of various orders. Everyone gave variations on the same whispered reason—we’re taking a holiday, they claimed. A holiday out of Rannit.

Darla and Mary and even Martha took it with smiles and knowing nods. “Aye, they’ll all be back,” I heard Mary say in a brief lull. “Don’t ye be despairin’, you hear?”

More nods, more smiles. I don’t know Mary well, but I know my Darla, and her smile was forced and her nod was just a motion.

“Well, well,” said Darla when the last of the customers shuffled out the door. She perched in my lap, sending Mary into a fit of giggling and blushing. “A man, in a dress shop. What can we interest you in today, handsome stranger?”

“Something in a taffeta evening gown. But no lace. I’m barely twenty, you know.”

She laughed and kissed me. Mary fled for the back.

I kissed her back, since there were no longer any innocents about who might be permanently scarred by our scandalous lack of decorum.

“Tamar hidden safely away?” Darla asked somewhat later.

“She is indeed. Along with our son. Did I mention we had a son? His name is Richard. Or possibly Reginald. He needs a bath. Maybe two.”

“My, you certainly know how to get the most out of a morning, don’t you?”

I didn’t have a comeback, so I settled for another kiss. That always seems to work.

The door opened, all bells and chimes, and Darla leaped to her feet, smoothing her long skirt and pinching my ear as she moved away.

We didn’t get much time, later. I had barely enough to let her know what I had planned, and where, and with whom. I didn’t even realize I was doing that until after it was done.

She nodded and only asked me once to be careful.

I hated to leave. But I had a number of stops to make, and any one of them could turn into a long one, and Lethway’s time at the Banner wasn’t negotiable.

So I told Darla goodbye while yet another finely dressed lady canceled yet another order with yet another tale of a sudden trip out of town. We couldn’t kiss. We couldn’t hug each other.

I guess that’s something we’ll have to get used to.

My next stop was Avalante. I hoped to either speak to Evis through that sparking contraption we’d used before, or at least get an update on the
Regency
’s position. I was also going to need another all-night loan of a carriage. I was hoping they’d offer so I didn’t have to beg.

Jerle, the day man, was at his post. He greeted me with his usual beaming expression of utter and complete indifference. Yes, sir, you are expected, I was told. Yes, sir, I believe a message awaits you. If sir will follow me…

I followed. I expected to be led to the room, which housed the long-distance speaking device, but we just kept going down, and down, and down. Six stories down, and Jerle never broke a sweat.

I did. I don’t mind spending time in Evis’s office, which itself is some thirty feet, I believe, beneath the ground. I have long known that Avalante is more cavern than house—but I’d prefer to keep the details of what lies beneath comfortably in the realm of speculation.

Down we went, following a dizzying spiral of steps that passed firmly shut doors. The air grew noticeably cooler, though it never smelled dank. A couple of times, I felt a strong draft when we passed by ornate iron grilles set in the walls.

At last, we stopped at a door. Jerle opened it and beckoned me through.

As I crossed the threshold, a burst of noise struck me, grew, and kept going. I felt the telltale traces of a hex slide off my shoulders as we left a fancy be-quiet spell behind.

I won’t call it a room, because it was just too big. A chamber. That fits. It was so large I couldn’t see the ends of it. Massive stone columns rose up in regular rows all around me and faded off into the distance in every direction. Magelamps hung from the high smooth ceiling, casting odd shadows and making the movement around me a confusing, jarring hubbub that might have been anything from a riot to a dance.

Jerle let me take it in for a moment. Halfdead and human hurried past us without pause or note.

“Jerle, what is this place?”

“The sixth level, sir. This way.”

And he was off, moving easily through the maze of columns and bodies. I trotted along behind him, lest I be left there and forgotten.

There were no walls. There were, in places, long ranks of benches and tables, filled with odd devices about which vampires and day folk gathered. Some of them talked. Some poked at things with tools I couldn’t name. Some scribbled on paper, some smoked those fancy new smokesticks and some just stared off into space, oblivious to the din around them.

Devices flashed and spat tiny thunders and smoked and glittered. The smell of things burning was strong. One blaze broke out as we passed, but was quickly extinguished by a bevy of red-clad day folk who fought down the flames with buckets and blankets before it could spread.

“Almost there, sir.”

I was too busy huffing and puffing to reply.

Finally, Jerle came to a stop and exchanged a few whispers with a tall halfdead who regarded me over Jerle’s head with barely contained annoyance.

“So you’re the man who ruined the upstairs machine,” he said when the whispering was all done.

“I never touched the thing. I’m a pigeon man.”

He whirled and set about twisting this and pushing that on a twin to the machine I’d last seen six floors above.

Jerle moved to stand by my side. “Be seated,” he said, motioning me toward a table and a single chair. A curiously shaped brass funnel sat atop this table too.

I sat, leaned forward, waited for Evis’s voice to sound from within the thing.

For a moment, there was silence. And then a burst of noise, and then, just for an instant, the sound of something like music, if the musicians were Trolls and afflicted with serious throat infections.

The tall halfdead scowled anew at me and gave a brass wheel a savage twist.

The music vanished.

“…hit the bloody thing again,” said Evis.

“You’ll break it if you do and they’ll blame me,” I said. “Where are you? How are the ladies? Can I book a stateroom for the next pleasure cruise?”

A burst of noise drowned his next few words. “…are fine. Buttercup caught a fish. Miss Gertriss sends her regards. We are well ahead of schedule. Engines performing beyond expectations. Weather is holding. Any more visitors from the old country?”

“None. Mama is fine. Lot of people leaving the city, though. You may come home to find it empty.”

“Just so it’s in one piece. Have you spoken with our boss yet?”

“Haven’t had the pleasure. Will mention that you asked. Any sign of our friends from the north?”

“We started seeing their trash in the water yesterday. Stupid on their part. We now know they’re eating potatoes grown on Butler Farms and drinking Yotton beer from cheap pine kegs.”