The Clockwork Dagger (16 page)

“You needed that rest, and please, go ahead and sleep now. I don't know how long I'll take.”

“I was sleeping earlier, and quite well at that. What possessed you to sneak off like that, child?” Mrs. Stout sounded truly wounded by the deception.

“I wanted to see the Saint's Road, that's all.”

“With him? Surely I don't need to—”

“No, you don't,” Octavia snapped. “I know very well how you feel about Mr. Garret, and I can assure you, nothing inappropriate is going on between us.”
And certainly nothing will now.

“I swore to Miss Percival that I'd watch over you, but now this is a task arising from the fondness of my heart. My dear Miss Leander, you're old enough to make mistakes, ones that will linger for some time.” She arched one silver eyebrow, leaving the rest unsaid.

“Oh, Mrs. Stout, really.” Octavia couldn't hide her exasperation.

“Now, now, you meet a certain someone and things can happen very quickly. Buttons can be undone, stays can be loosened—”

“Mrs. Stout!”

“You get my meaning.”

“Far too well.” If Mrs. Stout knew how far things had already gone, the woman would go into conniptions. “Now please, get your rest. I must take care of our gremlin before I sleep on my feet. Should I turn off the light?”

“Yes, I suppose so. I can always read again tomorrow. But, child, don't take long, and if that steward—”

Octavia flipped the switch and practically dove out the door. She locked it, tested the handle once, and then skedaddled down the hallway to the stairs.

She was past the smoking room when she heard a muffled voice behind her. She ducked into the nearest doorway, satchel banging against her hip. Someone laughed. She eased her heels backward and then thought to take in her surroundings.

It was the ship's galley. She approved of the sharp odor of lemons and noted a small wand, like hers, hanging on the wall. A gleam of silver caught her eye. She reached into the little basket of the shelf and pulled out a circle. Someone of great strength had bent a fork fully around, like a bracelet. The tines touched the base of the utensil. Gremlins liked silver things. Perhaps this could do, as a gift. She brushed some dust from the object and clutched it in her hand.

Going back to the doorway, she peered out. No one stood in the hall. She proceeded through the next door, past the crew areas, and into the hold. Something scurried in the darkness. She paused there for a moment, the knob digging into her spine as she let her eyes adjust to the dim light.

She found Leaf's little cage in the shadows. A sharp squeak welcomed her, and despite everything that had happened, she couldn't help but smile.

“Hello, Leaf.” The lock released with a slight pop. The door burst open and Leaf scurried up her arm and around her shoulder like a crazed squirrel. She giggled as his stubby fingers tickled through cloth. “It seems you missed me.”

He emitted a most perturbed squawk. His head butted against her jaw and she leaned into his affections. Tears brimmed in her eyes.
Oh Lady, I'm lonely. I miss Miss Percival, how she used to be. The other girls—well. No wonder I've been so stupid and vulnerable.

Octavia opened her hand to reveal the bent fork. “Leaf, I brought you—”

Those beady black eyes opened wider as Leaf gasped. He scampered down her arm and grabbed the fork, holding it up in the meager light. The silver band gleamed. His fingers worked over the surface, taking in the curved lines.

“It's a fork. An eating utensil. Someone very strong, likely very bored, bent it in a circle like that.” She laughed as Leaf tugged at the tines. His smile was all toothy and vicious. “I don't think you'll be able to . . . oh.”

Despite being the size of an adolescent kitten, Leaf had pried up one of the tines. Then another, then the last. Her jaw gaped. How could the creature be that strong? Leaf lifted up his left arm and slipped the band over his flesh, right between the juncture of wing and shoulder. He reached across at that awkward angle and pressed the tines down again.

No wonder gremlins had such fondness for silver, if it was so pliable to their touch. Octavia laughed. Leaf could have opened his cage at any time. He hopped to her lap and tested his wings.

“Leaf, I need to set you free,” she murmured. “You need to find more of your kind, and be safe.” He only chirped and rubbed a triangular ear against her hand. She swallowed down a sob as she unzipped the middle section of her satchel.

“Here.” She patted the open compartment. “Just like we did before. I need you to stay quiet and hidden while we go upstairs.”

He leaped to her satchel and tucked his batlike arms against his body. She nudged him down a little more and drew the flap over the gap.

As she backed up, her heels kicked the Queen's portrait, the wooden frame clattering. She glanced down at Evandia's shadowed face. “One of your Daggers is looking after me. Me!” Octavia whispered, her brow furrowing. “I thought they looked after Your Majesty to the exclusion of everyone else. The Queen is Caskentia, they say. The rest of us . . . well, scrap metal possesses more value.”

Wait. If a Dagger is involved, that means if I fall into the Wasters' hands, it's paramount to a direct threat against the Queen. How could I possibly hurt Queen Evandia? It's not like those artifacts of the Tree in the vault could be that dangerous either.

The royals—Mrs. Stout included—are just plain full of footle when it comes to the Lady and medicians.

Octavia crept out of the hold. She was halfway down the hall when the knob of the door ahead began to turn. Panicked, she looked to either side. This was the crew berthing, packed with men. She was as good as trapped.

The door opened to reveal Captain Hue, his face expressionless.

“Pardon me, Captain, sir,” she said. Her fingers clutched her satchel's strap as her mind raced. “Oh, um, you see, I thought I would check on Mr. Garret to see if he needed any soporifics for the pain, but now that I'm down here, I can find no one awake, and I'm not about to go blundering into these chambers.” She ended her babbling with an embarrassed smile. Never mind that Mr. Garret was in no pain, and that she didn't carry any soporifics.

He eyed her up and down and grunted. “No one's awake because the shift change is done. It's their place to be asleep.”

“Oh. Of course. Silly me. I would appreciate your help, sir, and then I'll retire for the night as well.”

Captain Hue's broad form occupied the aisle as he approached. “I'll check on him,” he said in a growl, and opened the door to one of the rooms.

She released a long breath and placed a reassuring hand atop her satchel.
Please, let this not take long.

Captain Hue emerged. He gave her a pert nod and edged past and to another door. With his hand on the knob, he turned to look back at her. “Next time, ring for a steward from your room or the promenade. This is no place for a lady.”

“Yes, Captain, oh, I completely agree,” she said, well aware she sounded like some empty-headed hoyden. A husky throat cleared behind her and she turned around.

Mr. Garret stood there in naught but a pair of gray underpants. His exposed arms were cords of muscle, his chest defined. Dark nipples stared at her like eyes.

Oh my. No wonder he moves with such grace, even with half his leg gone. The man could qualify for Clockwork Dagger on the basis of his physique alone.

“The captain said you were looking for me,” he said, his voice a low, lilting rumble. His eyes went to her satchel and back to her face. She gave him a tiny nod.

“Oh, yes. I wanted to see if you needed any soporifics. To help you sleep. Because of the pain.” She didn't hear the door behind her close, and had a strong hunch that the captain was listening from his berth.

“I should be able to rest on my own. I would rather not medicate and risk sleeping late, as the search for my leg will occupy much of the day.”

She stared at him a moment. “Your leg. You intend to search for your leg on your own? We're flying over endless miles of swamp now, aren't we?”

“Yes, m'lady, but I have a tracking device. I will find it.” The determined set of his jaw said he'd find it, or die trying.

Octavia's eyes half fluttered shut. “I should have been more careful in my examination. I must have missed a head wound.”

“Miss Leander?”

“You have one leg. What do you intend to do, swim?” The life debt nagged at the back of her brain—as if she needed the reminder. She ground her teeth together. “I can handle a wagon. Maybe, if the Lady's with us, I can even reattach the leg while we're still in the swamp.”

I will help him and be done.

He gawked at her, clearly not expecting this development. “But . . . m'lady, I am overwhelmed.”

“So am I.” No point in mincing words, even if the captain listened. “You saved my life. Who knows? With the way this journey has progressed, you may need to save it again. Won't it be better for all involved if your legs are intact?”

He slowly nodded. “I am grateful to you, Miss Leander. We will speak more as you debark in the morning, then.”

Her satchel swayed without her swinging it. Her smile stiff with renewed anxiety, she scurried past and made a dash for the stairs.

Upstairs, the promenade was empty, the only illumination from the glowstones within the floor. Her slow steps echoed against the white panels and windows.

She walked to the far side of the dining room, away from where she fell. She had no desire for that particular view again. Cold wind gusted inward as she lowered a window on its hinge. The smell of moisture was ripe in the air, though she could see no rain falling yet. She snorted.
Yes, fine weather for traipsing through the marshes with Mr. Garret.

A small arm pushed open the flap of her satchel. The green head followed, scrunched nose sniffing at the air.

“Smell that?” Octavia said, holding out her arm to Leaf. “That's—”

Instead of scurrying up her arm, he sprang from the satchel, wings stretched out. He paused on the sill, head tilted up, eyes wide. His wings flashed out with a slight snap and then he was gone. She leaned toward a shut window, throat raw with emotion as the deep gray clouds swallowed him up.

“Live well, Leaf,” she whispered.

No long drawn-out farewell. No final chin rubs.
It's for the best.
More lingering, more likelihood they would've been caught. She pulled the window handle, wincing at the iciness of the metal, and latched it shut again. She hoisted up her satchel.

A loud clatter at the window made her jump. She turned. Leaf was sprawled against the window.

“Leaf!” She let her satchel slide to the floor as she fumbled the window open again. Cold wind slapped her face. Leaf's little hands inched along the glass as he pivoted his head toward the opening.

He came back!
Joy and terror brought tears to her eyes. “Leaf, no. You have to go. It's not safe on board.”

His mouth moved but she couldn't hear his trill against the wind.

“They'll kill you! Go!”

A little green hand worked into the gap. She pried his fingers up one by one to shove him back outside, but his grip perfectly capped the tip of her thumb. The rest of his body stayed plastered against the glass.

“You can't come in, Leaf. Go! Fly away! Shoo!” She wiggled her hand free and jerked the window shut. The cold air lingered like a burn in her nose and lungs.

Leaf's mouth opened and closed. The fork rattled against the glass as his arm moved in an arc, as if waving.

“Go!” She waved him away. Those black eyes stared at her, unblinking.

Octavia did the only thing she could. She picked up her satchel and walked away. Tears thawed trails down her cheeks, and she didn't look back.

C
HAPTER 10

“You cannot be serious
about going out with that man. Child, really. You must reconsider.” Mrs. Stout huffed as she pushed open the curtains. Sunlight flooded their room at the Hotel Nennia, the intensity burning Octavia's eyes. She had only gotten half her usual amount of sleep, and on top of the drama and a self-healing, she was feeling the effects of her exertions. Another lecture from Mrs. Stout was about as welcome as a ward of virulent pox patients.

“Don't start this again, please. The man saved my life. And assisted in saving yours, I might add.” Plus, the Lady's burden pulsed like a headache, the word “debt” repeating itself in her brain like a relentless, breathy chant.

Octavia could only have afforded a doss house along the docks where certain beds sold by the hour, so it was something of a relief that Mrs. Stout had insisted that she accept her generosity and room with her. Their chambers were easily the size of the entire promenade aboard ship and glimmered with a sort of opulence that made Octavia feel profoundly out of place. A wide window showcased the bay and a sky speckled with airships and puffy contrails.

The sight of the sky made her flinch. She hadn't even gone to the promenade that morning. She didn't want to hear gossip of a pesky gremlin lurking at the windows or how he was tended to.

Please, Lady, let Leaf have given up and flown away.

“Well! Not to be ungracious, but Mr. Garret's arrival was rather peculiar in its timing. Some men might use such gratitude as leverage for other favors. And now you intend to gallop across the swamp together! Alone!” Mrs. Stout gestured toward the ceiling with both hands, as if expecting God to chime in with agreement.

“I'm not about to leave the man one-legged on my account.”
Though I'd have an easier time escaping him that way.
She shook away the awful thought. She could never live with herself for abandoning a patient in such condition, even if the man in question was an overly pleasant government agent who intended to imprison her for her own well-being.