The Gadgeteer Box Set

by Gin Hollan

  "I'll watch her. They seem more comfortable dealing with you," Sam said. "Hurry, he's getting away."

  She hesitated, but only for a moment. They'd already finished off what little food she'd had, and Marble's chicken pieces were almost gone.

  The exterior sides of several of the caravans opened their outer wall halfway up, propped on long sticks. It looked like a perpetual street fair. Six units down, she found the man again and walked up to where he had his shop open. A few simple transactions later she had four backpacks with bedrolls, food, water containers, and coins exchanged to something useful on this side of the mountain.

  Arabeth was a little stunned at the exchange rate she was getting before realizing most of the equipment was paid for by transporting the dead woman. She tucked some of the new coins in her jacket and put the pouch holding the rest in her satchel.

  "Can we get soap, toothbrushes, and a few hair brushes?" she pantomimed as she went, and was pleased he understood as he set the items down.

  A change of socks might be too much to ask for, but she tried explaining. Again, he understood and retrieved four pairs of socks. They even looked to be the right sizes. Clever man, sizing everyone up as a potential customer, including Melanie. She held her hand out with some coins, but he waved her off.

  Looking at the stack of items in front of her, she considered going for help. Thank God the job came with a wagon.

  Someone approached from the outside, clearing their throat as they got close. Turning, Arabeth saw Mabel and Taoma again. As they neared, Mabel held both arms out with a strange device sitting across her open hands. Arabeth had seen pictures of objects similar to this. It was a weapon.

  "This is a ... pistol?" Arabeth asked softly. They seemed less dangerous in person. She reached out and took it, feeling the metal and wood of it, looking to see how it all fit together. It differed from the images she'd seen, and it was lighter than she’d imagined. This one had a small clear tube in the middle along the top where ammunition would have gone. She rocked it slowly to one side and a green crystal shard rolled into view.

  "Taoma says that when Moth— The woman sits up, you need to shoot her with that. That will push the ghost back out for a while and leave us in peace. And you can keep the pistol as part of the payment. And,” Mable’s voice changed as if she were quoting someone, “it would be best if you don't come back this way, unless you have to bring Mable—” She cleared her throat. “I mean me, home again. I mean, if my relatives won't have me. We sent a letter, but there’s been no response."

  "You’re traveling with us?" That wasn’t what made Arabeth pause. She stared as the words that Mabel had almost misspoken hit her. That was Mable’s mother? The sorrow of it pushed in on Arabeth. The girl was escorting her mother to her final resting place. Melanie needed to wake up; she was the empathic one among them.

  "I’ll earn my keep as your guide. I know this area like the back of my hand," Mable said.

  Arabeth took in a deep breath. How could they drag a child two days’ travel away from her home to family that may not accept her? Of course they’d bring her back. Even if it slowed them down, they would do it.

  "I have to go," Mabel insisted. "Please don’t embarrass me in front of my grandmother."

  Slowly Arabeth nodded, turning back to her purchases. The vendor had packed them and, smiling, had them sitting on the counter, waiting for her. The mess was so much more manageable tucked neatly into the backpacks, she thought, glad to have a momentary distraction from the new situation.

  Taoma said a few words to Arabeth, then to Mabel, then walked away. Words of parting, she guessed.

  Mabel inhaled deeply. Then, with a slight shudder, she let the air out again.

  "We need to go," she said to Arabeth. "They think the ghost will come back, see her body is gone, and move on to the next dimension, but it may follow us, too."

  The vendor called Mabel over. His smile was a little sad as he reached out and took the girl's hands in his own for a moment. They exchanged a few words and he handed her a small backpack. Mabel turned away from him, tears in her eyes, but resolve etched across her face.

  Arabeth slung one pack across her back and carried the other three. The pistol was tucked into a long interior pocket, bumping her every time she took a few steps. That would take some getting used to. There was no good way to pack it and keep it accessible at the same time. This was the compromise.

  She wanted time to examine the pistol but the guys had been doing a whole lot of nothing, waiting for her on the roadside, then waiting for her here. They were probably tired of all the delays, but she hadn't had a break in hours. When sleep finally came, she suspected she'd be out like a light, probably with the pistol hidden under her pillow for safekeeping.

  Unless whomever was guarding the wagon needed it. Right.

  The wagon. That was a complication none of them have could anticipated. Weird. People don’t get possessed and repossessed, needing to be intermittently shot to keep them down, she thought. Maybe they could figure out what was going on with the woman as they travelled.

  "How far away is the city?" she asked Mabel. She'd worry about parking the … wagon when the time came.

  "Owen is two days away. I remember an inn on the road between, but I don’t remember how far it is. They tell me my brain is rewiring itself because I'm twelve, so it's easy to forget things. I think my head is just too full since the transition."

  "I know that feeling." Arabeth smiled.

  Back at the wagon, the guys saw her approach and stood up.

  "Are you done shopping?" Graham asked.

  Arabeth didn’t hear him. Instead she was staring at the colourful canopy draped out over vertical wooden bows attached from side to side on the wagon now. Stunning dye-work with patterns that reminded her of a pink and gold sunrise started at the bottom of one side and gradually became a stunning deep blue sunset on the other. There was a subtle pattern under it, though. Like a map, or a maze. She wanted to draw it, to see if it had meaning beyond imagery.

  Sam reached out and lifted the three packs in her hands, setting them inside the wagon.

  "We can pull the women up nearer to the top of the wagon. Then you will be able to sit and hang your legs out, resting your feet," he suggested, starting the process before Arabeth could argue. He looked tired, too. A different kind of tired. He'd been almost silent since their dramatic tunnel escape.

  "Mabel remembers a place we can rest for the night along the road here," Arabeth said. "Let's put all the packs in there, if there's room." She looked in. It seemed to have more space. "Is this the same wagon?"

  "Yes," Sam said.

  "You got food, right?" Graham asked. "I'm famished."

  "In here." Arabeth pointed toward where Sam had put the packs in the wagon. "Guard yours wisely. It has dried food, water pouches, and other things we'll need on this trip. Sam, here’s yours."

  She took her own pack over to the back of the wagon, where Melanie lay, and paused before she set it by her friend’s feet. The old man hadn’t put Melanie’s shoes back on, and her toes twitched now and then.

  No one spoke as she did, but she knew they shared her hope. Melanie would sleep a few more days, but she should be all right.

  There was no seat or buckboard. It was a plain wagon, unless you considered the gadgetry attached to the axle, with three wooden sides and a tailgate. Arabeth dropped the tailgate, planning to sit there and let her sore, tired feet dangle down. She lined herself up backwards to hop up on the wagon between the feet of the other two occupants.

  Sam took hold of her waist and helped her up. Smiling, she whispered a thank-you as she blushed and looked away. He paid way too much attention to her, she thought. Well, not too much, but she wasn’t accustomed to that kind of thoughtfulness.

  She sighed with immediate relief as she undid her boots and pulled them off. She gripped them tightly under one arm, looking for Marble. She wanted her pet with her, figuring the fox needed a break too.
/>
  "Sam, can you lift Marble up for me?"

  He scooped her up and gently set her on Arabeth's lap.

  "Thank you." She smiled, holding Marble steady with one arm.

  The cart lurched to a roll and they followed the road around to the north. Soon the rhythm of travel had Arabeth yawning and losing track of time. It was dark when the wagon stopped next.

  // Chapter 6 //

  "ARABETH, IT'S TIME to put your boots back on," Sam's voice called through the canvas, luring Arabeth back to alertness.

  "Where are we?" she mumbled.

  Sam reached out to help her down again. "There's an inn. We're stopping for the night."

  "They probably board horses in the back. We’ll need to stay and watch in shifts to make sure no one tampers with our cargo." Graham was talking in slow, cryptic ways, but Arabeth understood why. Being so far out of his comfort zone, he was controlling what he could. At this point, it was himself.

  "I'll take Mabel and arrange for our accommodation here." Arabeth covered a yawn as she hopped down.

  The rustic two-storey building sat along the road's edge. A well-tended path wound around back. There wasn't much more she could see in the moonlight, but it was enough to encourage her inside, Mabel right behind. The heavy-set innkeeper gave her a curious look, staring a moment at Marble sitting on her shoulder, but didn't ask any questions as he walked them up to a second-floor room and crossed to start the lantern.

  On the second floor, he pointed to the far end and said something Mabel would have to translate.

  "He says the washroom is at the end," Mabel said.

  Inside their room, it was as simple and well-tended as Arabeth had hoped. Two room keys later, she was hurrying Mabel up to one, fighting her own sleepiness. She almost laughed when she looked in the room. Everything was just a bit big, and Graham was going to feel odd about that. About 20 percent bigger. Why, though?

  Simple, narrow, but comfortable-looking beds sat pushed up against two opposing walls. The air was crisp from a single open window between them. Matching the basic style of the rest of the room, a single lantern sat on the table. Another table, nearer the door, held a large ceramic pitcher, a washcloth, and a wash basin. There was a second basin on the floor with a large folded towel next to it, presumably to wash your feet.

  To Arabeth, it looked perfectly comfortable. Feeling her tiredness return, she thought she'd better get back outside.

  "All right, Mable. You get settled in. The men and I will be taking turns guarding the wagon. When I’m out, you keep the door locked," she said as she turned the latch, testing the lock.

  Mabel nodded and immediately chose the bed against the farthest wall.

  Arabeth hurried to the bathroom. She felt a little silly when her feet couldn't quite touch the ground when she sat. It was like being a kid all over again, she giggled.

  Outside, Sam and Graham had led the horse and wagon back around into a small, open paddock. The horse stood free now, happily munching on a considerable amount of hay. It was better for a foraging animal to eat slowly and not run out, she knew. They'd stop when they needed to, if not deprived or given sweet feeds.

  "It'll be easier to watch over everything in the same spot," Sam explained.

  "No, that's perfect. That's what the innkeeper said."

  "Innkeeper? He really goes by that title?" Graham scoffed.

  "Well, it is a roadside inn." She shrugged. "With a tavern and all."

  "So, real food?" He smiled. "And smooth drink? Finally, a sign of actual civilization."

  "What's the room number?" Sam said, holding his hand out.

  "You’re in eleven. First door, second floor." She handed the key to him. "We're in twelve, across the hall. Bathroom is at the end of the hall. There are personal care items in your backpack."

  "Thought of everything, I see," he said, a little flat. Tired, she amended. "Who wants first watch?"

  "I'll go first. Once I'm asleep, it'll be hard to get me up again," Arabeth said.

  "Then second shift is mine. I like the air at night," Graham offered.

  "That leaves me with the last shift. Someone may have to wake me," Sam said. "Was there an alarm clock in the room?"

  Their shifts sorted, the men walked off, each carrying his own pack.

  Alone with their 'cargo', Arabeth looked for a place to get comfortable. The next three or so hours would be more bearable if she could find a comfy spot. Spotting a stack of hay bales against the back of the inn, she walked over and dragged one back with her.

  It seemed she'd barely settled in when there was a scream from the wagon. Jumping up, Arabeth opened the flap on the back. Sitting up, looking scared and disoriented, sat the woman. Arabeth immediately pulled out the gun and aimed.

  "Please, don't shoot. I'm not dead." She held her hands up. Her speech was slightly slurred, but not bad, considering she was supposed to be dead.

  Arabeth paused.

  "This is a ruse constructed so Mabel and I could escape.” She stretched her arms up, inhaling deeply, eager for breath. “I needed to dodge … a certain man’s attention. That is all."

  “This seems a bit extreme.” Arabeth frowned. “And dangerous.”

  “I suppose it would look that way, but I’m better thought as dead.”

  Arabeth simply nodded. The woman’s speech was a little slurred. There was no doubt it was residual effects of being repeatedly knocked out. Presently she seemed harmless enough, but Arabeth suspected there was more to this story than the woman was currently ready or able to share.

  A noise to her left drew her attention as Graham walked up.

  "She's not dead, Graham," she said, quickly stepping in the way of his approach.

  “I don’t care.” He reached out and pulled the gun out of her hand. Pushing her to one side, he aimed and shot. With a thud, the women fell back, asleep. There was a slight green shimmer over her body as she lay there.

  "You may be foolish enough to trust someone who is possessed, but I have no such flaw,” he said, shaking his head. "Go get some sleep."

  "Seriously, she says this was all a ruse."

  "Yes, and when we deliver the princess to the castle, our reward will be great. Go to bed already." He turned, looking for a spot to sit.

  A motion from the wagon made them both look. This time Melanie was sitting up.

  "I need to use the facilities," she mumbled and scooted forward, dropping awkwardly out of the wagon.

  "I'll show you where," Arabeth said, giving Graham a scowl as she took her tottering friend's elbow.

  Graham stared, not sure what to say. He decided to sit on the hay bale, laying the weapon across his lap.

  "Are you awake? Or is this sleepwalking?" Arabeth wondered.

  "Too tired. I need the bathroom … and water."

  Arabeth closed the inn’s ground-floor bathroom door behind Melanie and went to get glass of water. When she got back, she knocked. No answer. Slowly she turned the handle, realizing Mel hadn't locked it. She peeked in to see her friend, asleep on the toilet, leaning on the nearest wall. Arabeth tried not to laugh at the absurdness of the situation and went near enough to tap Melanie's shoulder.

  "Mel, wake up. You're going to regret sleeping here."

  "Mmm, water," Melanie said, taking the glass and downing it in one go. "Okay, out." She pushed the empty glass at Arabeth.

  "Stay awake long enough to wash up and get into a real bed."

  Melanie waved her out. “Fine. Two minutes. I’ll be out in two minutes.” The door shut with a thud.

  Two minutes stretched into five. She knocked. “Mel, come on. You can’t sleep in there. You’ll fall in.”

  Arabeth looked around. It might look odd, dragging a nearly-awake-but-could-be-drunk person outside and tossing them into the back of a wagon. She didn’t need trouble.

  She banged on the door. Now that a bed was a choice, she’d hurry Melanie to it. How could she get any actual rest in there, anyway? Arabeth would sleep on blankets on
the floor. She was tired enough to not care about a mattress. A pillow, though.... That, she would want.

  The door creaked open and Mel stood, leaning heavily on a wall.

  “Lean on me,” she said, pulling Melanie her way.

  Upstairs in their room, Arabeth sat Melanie on the edge of the bed. As she dropped down, Arabeth quickly pulled a blanket off, then took the second, smaller pillow. Melanie wouldn't notice them missing. She'd already fallen over sideways onto the other pillow and pulled her feet up.

  As Arabeth set up her sleeping area in a corner, she mused at just how many mysteries were surrounding her and her friends now. The target on their backs grew larger by the day, it seemed.

  // Chapter 7 //

  ARABETH AWOKE to a knock on the door. She reached for her pocket watch, noting that it said 10 a.m. Sitting up, she sighed before responding.

  “Hello?”

  "You’ll need to pay another night’s fee if you’re staying on, miss. You have fifteen minutes to decide." It was a younger male voice, delivering his short speech with authority. He must be the innkeeper’s son, she decided. Propping herself up, she was surprised by how bright it was through the window. She was stiff from being on the floor, but at least the bed had given her enough shade to get a good sleep.

  Melanie was still asleep, as expected. Mabel had just sat up and was rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Which of the guys was watching the wagon, and why hadn't someone woken her up for another turn watching?

  "What was all that noise last night?" Mabel asked before noticing Melanie in the bed across from her. "Oh.... Did something happen?"

  Arabeth sighed and turned to look at Mabel.

  "Is there something you're not telling me, Mabel? Something about the woman in the wagon?"

  Mabel's complexion blanched and she had trouble making eye contact.

  "Is there a chance she's not dead?"

  Mabel nodded.

  "And that she's actually your mother?"

  Mabel heaved a sigh then nodded again.

  "Tell me what's going on. It'll be easier to help you—both of you—if I know the facts."