Winter (The Manhattan Exiles) (4 page)

“
Aye.” The pain in her feet had dulled to a fierce throbbing.

“
She has a point,” said Richard, lifting the lantern high. “Remember the time Lolo tripped on his shoelaces?”

“
I was out of commission for more than a week,” Lolo agreed from somewhere past the gate.

“
Very well.” Winter snaked his arm around her waist. “Lean on me and go carefully.”

She thought she heard the shadowy Lolo snicker. Remembering that she wore nothing more than a borrowed coat, she blushed, and was glad of the dim light.

There were twenty-five steps. Aine counted each as she made her way deeper into the earth. She could smell damp soil, and smoke, and the ever present-iron.

By the time they reached the bottom of the stairway Aine was grateful of Winter’s support. More than once he’d caught her as she slipped. She knew now that he must be far stronger than his slight form implied.

The last step butted up against a set of large doors. Richard slipped past Winter, and threw the doors open in a sweeping gesture. The mouse on his shoulder chittered.

“
Welcome,” Richard said with obvious pride, “to our home.”

Aine sucked on her tongue to keep her jaw from dropping. She hadn’t expected anything so luxurious as her mother’s rooms, of course, but she had supposed that even in the afterlife one was allowed a chair or three.

Instead
, the floor was scattered with stained cushions, stacks of books, and pieces of discarded clothing. An entire army of lanterns similar to the one in Richard’s hand waited in various positions against the wall. Faded and dingy tapestries hung from the ceiling in an obvious attempt to divide what appeared to be one very narrow cavern into several spaces.

And straight through the middle of the cavern ran the iron road. Aine eyed it with hatred.

“Don’t worry. It isn’t live. They cut the cord years ago.”

Aine turned. This time she couldn’t help herself. Her jaw fell.

“What manner of beast are you wearing?”

Lolo, for Lolo he must be, grinned.
“It’s a buffalo vest. Antique. I dyed it myself. The customers love it. Purple’s my color.”

“
Lolo is our resident huckster,” Winter said. “And he’s late for work.”

“
Not yet. I’ve got ten minutes. Richard, will you check and see if the TV is back up?”

“
Richard is going to help me,” said Winter. “Get ready for work before I’m forced to beat you. Richard, kitchen or mattress?”

“
Kitchen. The light’s better. And we’ll need hot water.”

Winter made as if to lift Aine once more, but she stopped him with a look.

“I can walk.” She held the coat tightly closed with one hand. “Show me the way.” And then, after a pause: “Would you really beat the child?”

“
Lolo’s twelve,” Richard said. He crooked his elbow and waited. Aine set her fingers on his gloved wrist. “And Winter never beats anyone smaller than himself.”

“
I’ll be thirteen in December.” Lolo almost danced at Richard’s other side. He had beautiful dark skin, and long hair, worn in warrior’s braids and adorned with colorful beads. “And pretty soon I’ll be as tall as Winter. But he still won’t beat me. I’m important. Gabby says so.”

Aine wasn’t one to argue with the wisdom of a talking mouse, so she smiled and nodded. She tried not to limp as Richard lead her around cushions to a faded green curtain.

“This is the kitchen.” Lolo shoved the curtain back, revealing a small room. “That blanket, there, beyond the fridge, that’s the door to my room.”

“
Where you should be right now,” growled Winter. “Preparing for work.”

Lolo laughed and trotted away, beads clicking.

“On the table, I think,” Winter said. “Richard, hot water?”

The kitchen table was large and round and made of misshapen pieces of metal. Aine thought it looked as though it had been hammered together by a
drunken smith. Richard set his lantern at the very center, and blew out the wick.

“
We lost power, earlier,” he explained, tilting his chin up at the ceiling. A string of softly glowing glass orbs ran away beyond the curtains, shedding a strange yellow light on the room.

The mouse jumped from Richard’s shoulder to the table.

“Perfectly safe,” she chirruped, obviously reading the indecision on Aine’s face. “One grows used to the tracks, but Richard would never purposefully cause an old woman harm.”

“
Iron free,” Winter translated. “Richard works mostly with gold and tin and a fair bit of copper. Up you go, princess.” He picked her up, and set her gently onto the table. “Let’s take a look at those feet.”

“
My name is Aine. And although my mother resides at Court, I’ve not a drop of royal blood in my veins. Certainly I’m no princess.”

Winter was bent over her feet, mouth set. The brush of his fingers against the arch of her left foot sent her shivering, and not entirely in pain.

“Water’s boiling.” Richard stepped back around the table. Aine noticed for the first time how very tall he was, and bone thin. His shoulders were sharp under his velvet coat. Around his neck he wore a long gold chain adorned with several keys and a tiny looking glass.

“
See if you can find Aine some clothes,” said Winter, thumb pressing against her heel. “Lolo’s a likely fit, if you can find anything clean.”

“
Nothing furry,” Aine burst out, then stopped herself, abashed. “Please.”

Richard bowed from the waist, then disappeared behind one of the many curtains.

“Surely the dead can’t be picky about fashion,” Winter murmured. He lifted his gaze to her own. “The flesh I cut from your feet is new and pink, soft as a child’s. You heal with remarkable speed, princess.”

“
Aine.”

He hadn’t released her lef
t foot. The shivers coursing through her body were definitely prickles of pleasure.

“
Aine,” he repeated. The grey in his eyes seemed to deepen. “Are you always this resilient?”

“
My mother serves the Queen at Court,” repeated Aine, in case he had misunderstood the first time. “Our family enjoys Gloriana’s favor.”

Gabby squeaked loudly, startling Aine, who had forgotten the mouse entirely.

“Interesting.” Winter bent even closer. The soft light from the ceiling caught on the lobes of his ears, glittering on twin topaz stones, big as grapes. “Gloriana, you say?”

“
Aye, of course.” Across the tiny room on a small stove a glass carafe of water had begun to boil and hiss. Aine pointed a finger.

“
Your water,” she cautioned.

Winter started, and turned away to tend the stove. Richard burst back through the curtains. He held a bundle of clothing in his arms, and carried a roll of linen bandages stuck under his chin. The heels of his boots struck a rhythm on the floor.

Lolo trailed after the older boy, whistling softly. He’d shed his atrocious vest, and wore instead a burlap apron around his neck and a tweed cap on his head.

Richard deposited his bundle on the table next to Aine. Lolo fiddled with the cap on his heed, then bent to fuss with the strings on his very red
shoes. Winter turned from the stove, carafe in hand, and stumbled over Lolo with a startled shout.

Lolo fell all the way over onto his knees. The carafe went up into the air, scattering hot water. Richard yelped as drops spattered his coat.

Winter staggered. He fetched up against the table.

The carafe hit the ground. It broke into several large pieces.

For two heartbeats there was silence.

Then Winter spoke in a precise,
flat tone.

“
Lolo. Why are you lurking about in my home when it is now surely well after morning rush? Your welcome here is a privilege. Don't take it for granted.”

Cheeks bright pink, Lolo began gathering up pieces of glass.
“I’m sorry, Win.”

Winter was as white as Lolo was rosy. Aine imagined she could feel fury rolling off him in waves.

“Leave the glass, Lolo. Just go.”

Lolo stood, chin pressed to chest, face hidden by the brim of his hat.

“Sorry,” he said again. Hands in the pockets of his burlap apron, he ducked out of the kitchen.

“
That was uncalled for,” said Richard when Lolo was gone.

Winter’s beautiful mouth was pressed into a thin line.
“He needs to remember to be careful. If he forgets the simplest cautions here at home, how can I be sure he’ll remember when it matters most?”

“
Has your famous nose stopped working, then? Christ, Win, the kid never washes. Even
I
  can smell him coming half a block away. If you’re so rattled by something as simple as a pretty girl, how do we know
you’ll
keep cool when it matters most?”

Winter gave Richard a frozen stare, and then s
trode from the room. Gabby sprang from the table and dashed after, pink tail held low. A dirty white tapestry adorned with tiny purple flowers flapped open and shut as they passed.

“I don’t understand,” said Aine once the curtain had stilled. “It was only bad luck. Wasn’t it?”

Richard shook his head.
“We embarrassed him. Winter doesn’t do embarrassment particularly well. He’s sensitive about certain things.”

“
Certain things?”

Avoiding the shards of glass, Richard retrieved a small bowl from a drawer under the stove. He fi
lled it with water from a clay jar.

“
I’m afraid cold will have to do for now.” He dug a clean rag from the bundle on the table, and dipped it in the water.

“
Winter’s deaf, you see,” explained Richard. “He pretends so well people often don’t notice. He prefers it that way.”

“
Pretends?” Aine repeated, shocked. “I spoke to him. He answered. He heard me.”

“
Oh, he can hear your voice well enough. Voices, nothing else. Lift your foot, just there. This might sting, you’re rather covered in grime.” He dabbed at her foot, gently and then with more strength. “He hears your voice in his head, you see, when you speak. Voices, loud or soft, whisper or shout. Winter’s deaf, alright, but I think his world must be unbearably loud.”

Aine wrapped the coat she wore more tightly around her chest. In spite of the tapestries she thought she felt a draft.

“Don’t let it frighten you.”

“
Why should I be frightened?” Aine scoffed. “Such talents are rare even at Court, but not entirely unheard of.”

Richard smiled sadly.
“Talent, is it? Well, Winter tends to surround himself with talented people. It appears you'll fit right in.”

He wound a bandage around Aine's right foot, then around her left.

“If only to keep you clean. Get dressed and then we'll see about your back. Whistle when you're decent.”

He left her alone. Aine huddled beneath Winter's coat, trying not to shiver. Without Richard's pleasant chatter the room seemed very quiet. But if she held her breath she could hear a low hum. From deeper into the cavern came a steady tick, as if from a clock or metronome, and a muffled bang.

She thought she could hear the iron road pulsing beyond the curtains. And if she closed her eyes and concentrated she could just pick out the snap of Richard’s boot heels in the distance.

What would it be like, she wondered, to stumble through every day without the melodies and harmonies of life to guide you?

Shivering, Aine wriggled off the table, and sorted through the pile of clothing. Lolo’s tastes seemed to run to color and texture. Aine picked out a knitted sweater the exact hue of spring grass and a pair of grey trousers. Underneath the trousers she discovered a pair of short, thick stockings.

She had to roll the cuffs of the trousers, and the sweater threatened to slip down her shoulders. Neither piece was as clean as she had dared hope, but at least she was covered, and almo
st warm. She pulled the stockings inch by inch over her bandaged feet, and heaved a sigh of relief when her shivering eased.

Whistle, Richard had said, as though she wore a reed pipe on her belt like a simple shepherd.

Resigned, Aine summoned courage. She lifted her chin and left the kitchen.

When Aine was very young, before she’d grown out of braids and into petticoats, she would spend her days on her mother’s knee, on the dais below Gloriana’s throne, and listen to the Queen’s handmaidens as they gossiped and told tales.

On
e of her mother’s closest friends, a cheerful old crone who preferred to be called Nan, often talked of the great caves beneath
Lough Gur
, and of the cold, dark maze that would eventually spit onto stony mortal soil any fay so unlucky as to displease the Queen.