Cipher Hill

by Joseph R. Lallo

  “I imagine the bear would win that one.”

  “And I mean to be the bear.”

  The bartender set a tin plate before Butch and Mack. “How long is this going to take?” he asked.

  “The rest of someone’s life, most likely.”

  “You’re going to cost me an awful lot of business.”

  “And do a bit of damage, too.” Mack reached into his pocket. “Six fellas, heavy drinkers, turned away for a couple days, plus some fixed-up walls and such. … This oughta cover it.”

  He thumped a heavy sack of coins on the table. The bartender opened it to give it a look, then hefted it in his hand.

  “It’s a bit light. Late nights, I get more than six drinkers.”

  “I took the rat-out fee off the top.”

  The bartender looked hard at Mack. “What’s that now?”

  “There’s at least three pale fellas I know of that’d pay a hefty price to know where this particular duck is sittin’. And wouldn’t you know it, that’s somethin’ you happen to know.”

  “Are you accusing me of passing information down to the fug?”

  “Yep.” Mack took a second shot. “Go get your palm greased, good and proper. Then make yourself scarce until what happens happens.”

  “You been down in that fug for way too long if you think it’s only folks down there who’d pay for a piece of you for what you been workin’ at over on Ray Island.”

  “I ain’t been to Ray Island in years.”

  “Well, you’d best not go there now.”

  Mack’s eyes narrowed. “You know somethin’ I don’t…”

  “There’s plenty of rumblin’. Word has it you and yours are arming up for somethin’ big.”

  “Sounds like Tusk’s been spreadin’ lies. Guess he ain’t been sittin’ on his hands after all. You go ahead and spread word where we can be found. Folks think we’re up to no good, they can see for themselves. So long as they ain’t concerned about crossin’ paths with some of the meaner fellas after us.”

  The bartender stared at him for a moment longer, then removed his apron.

  “I’d just as soon avoid sendin’ too many folks here with violent intent. There’s liable to be enough repairs as it is. Help yourself to the stock, Captain. If I see you again, we’ll settle up.” He put on his cap and grabbed a chipboard sign. “Hangin’ up the closed sign.”

  The bartender paced outside, leaving Butch and Captain Mack alone. Butch slipped around behind the bar. She plated the meat pies, wrinkling her nose at the smell, then sifted through the bottles. She found something tolerable and poured herself a drink.

  “Here’s to old times, Glinda,” Mack said, raising his glass. “Here’s to old times…”

  #

  Nita steered the steam cart around a particularly root-infested patch of The Thicket. The vehicle hand changed a great deal from when it had been manufactured. Initially little more than a powered cart meant to run along some rails within a mining complex, it was now a hefty, heavily armed cargo platform with the sort of wheels that made short work of most of the terrain The Thicket could throw at them. Though it had phlo-lights powerful enough to light up quite a bit of the forest, Nita had them turned down until they offered barely a green glimmer. In The Thicket, too much light tended to mean company. That left them steering by intuition, avoiding the shadowy forms of thorn-covered trees in the darkness and trying to ignore the occasional flash of wild eyes.

  “Are you sure we’ve come the right way?” Nita asked.

  Lil shrugged. “It’s one thing to remember where we bumped into ’em as the ship flies. It’s another to work out where that is in The Thicket. I reckon we’re at least close.”

  “The Thicket isn’t very hospitable, and this place seems worse than most of it.”

  “You gotta admit, if folks can survive out here, they’re plenty tough to do some fighting for us.”

  “And you’re sure they’ll help us?”

  “Heck no. I reckon they ain’t gonna be too happy to have us knockin’ on their door, let alone doin’ it lookin’ for a favor.”

  Nita tugged a lever to bring the steam cart to a stop, then turned to Lil. “Don’t you think that is a piece of information you could have shared before we came out here?” she said harshly.

  “You didn’t ask until now. Besides, how mad could they get?”

  “Lil, we’re in an armed steam cart that is loaded to the gills with ammunition. Anyone not expecting friendly trade would be downright foolish to interpret this as anything but an act of aggression.”

  “So we put our hands up when they see us.”

  “And if they shoot first?”

  “Then we hope real hard it don’t hit us, then we put our hands up.”

  “Lil, I’ve been meaning to tell you and Coop this for a while. ‘Hope real hard’ is by no means a plan, or even a basis for one.”

  She crossed her arms. “Shows what you know. Ain’t no plan I been a part of for the last five years that ain’t had hopin’ real hard right at the center.”

  The trees in the darkness around them rustled. Nita snapped her head around to try to follow where the sound was coming from. It soon became clear it was coming from all around them.

  “We’d best start hoping then,” Nita said.

  “I been gettin’ real good at it,” Lil affirmed.

  Nita spun the valve for the steam to vent enough away from the engine to slow the jittering vibration of the cart while it idled. The rustling came to a stop in a circle around them. The faint click of a rifle bolt sliding into place dispelled any doubt that it might simply be an attack by some of the countless vicious animals that called The Thicket home.

  “Lil, these people know you, right?” Nita hissed.

  “Some of ’em do. I don’t know how many there are.” She raised her voice. “Hey! We got loads of guns and bullets and stuff!”

  Another handful of guns clicked.

  “For trade!” Nita added hastily.

  The underbrush rustled some more.

  “Let’s see some of it,” growled a voice.

  Nita slowly lowered a hand and plucked up a reel of fléchettes from behind her.

  “No, no,” Lil whispered. “The fella I bought these from was after stuff for firearms.”

  She swapped it for a heavy box of rifle rounds and pitched it in the direction of the voice. It landed right at the edge of the faint glow of the cart’s phlo-lights. A shadowy form stepped up and inspected it. After breaking the seal on the box and having a look at one of the rounds inside, he looked up.

  “How many of these have you got?”

  “About a hundred boxes!” Lil said. “And more where that came from if you’re willin’ to do some work with us.”

  The half-seen form retreated into The Thicket. Quiet whispers filtered around them.

  “What’s to keep us from just taking all of this stuff from you?”

  “General principle. Plus, if you all make a move we don’t like, me and Nita here are liable to hop behind these here deck guns and cut you folks in half. We’re usually fightin’ airships, see, so we ain’t gotta be too accurate with these things to make certain you ain’t gonna misbehave again.”

  More whispering followed.

  “You there, at the controls,” a voice called. “You a Calderan?”

  “I am.”

  “… The Calderan who’s on the Wind Breaker crew?”

  Lil placed her hands on her hips. “We ain’t exactly spoiled for Calderans down here. Of course that’s her. And I’m Lil Cooper.”

  “There’s a lot of money on offer for your heads on a platter right now. Mayor Ebonwhite. Someone named Alabaster.”

  “You been tucked away up here too long. Alabaster’s locked up overseas,” Lil said.

  Nita narrowed her eyes. “It would serve you all well to be mindful of the fact that no one who has crossed our paths with the intent to do us harm has come away without scars. And everyone who has given us help when
we asked for it has ended up better off. So if you’re weighing the merits of helping us versus hurting us, keep that in mind.”

  “Yeah. But don’t think about it too long. I’m startin’ to sour on the whole idea of workin’ with you,” Lil said.

  The whispering in the trees became a bit harsher.

  “What sort of business did you have in mind?” asked one of the unseen figures.

  “We’re takin’ a run at a fort. Big place. We already got a crew together that’ll be rainin’ hell on ’em from above, but we’re lookin’ to hire some folks who can help us nip at their heels from the ground.”

  “We’re not mercenaries. We’re traders and field guides.”

  “Then consider this,” Nita said. “The legendary Wind Breaker crew are planning an assault. Not so long ago we made a name for ourselves by cleaning out the best stuff from a warehouse in Fugtown. And we did that alone. Imagine the size of the haul we’re planning if we need help this time around.”

  “Where are you planning to hit?” asked another voice from the darkness.

  “You’ll find out if and when we decide you’ll be able to help us.”

  Whispering followed, and continued for some time. Finally, a man in a tattered captain’s uniform stepped into the light of their cart.

  “Oi. Deek. Run ahead and let Lusk know what’s what. You two. Follow me. This sounds like it’s worth a chat.”

  #

  Nita guided the steam cart slowly through gradually dwindling underbrush. They’d yet to encounter any sort of light, and the glow from the weak smolder of their phlo-lights revealed little of what she’d call civilization. The ground smoothed a bit, suggesting a crudely maintained courtyard. Now and again their light fell upon lightly built, clearly temporary structures. Poles had been driven into the ground in a few places, and barbed wire had been stretched between them forming crude cages. Whatever beasts were concealed within found light distasteful enough to back away to the darkest corners and glare at them with shining eyes.

  “Just what sort of help do you imagine these people will be able to give us?” Nita whispered to Lil.

  “Beats me, but it’s a cinch Tusk ain’t expectin’ it, whatever it is,” Lil said.

  “We’re here,” called one of the men leading them. “The man holding the purse strings of this little organization is in there.”

  He pointed to the farthest visible structure. It was the only thing they’d seen so far that was solidly built, but even so, it wasn’t permanent. It was a stout wagon, fully enclosed like the sort of thing you’d expect from a traveling circus. It was also the only thing in what could charitably be called “the camp” that had light smoldering behind its heavy drapes.

  “Lusk’ll talk to one of you. One. There’s no bloody room for two, and we wouldn’t trust you outnumbering him in there besides,” said their guide.

  “This is your plan, Lil,” Nita said. “And you’re the one used to bargaining.”

  “Yeah, but I’m also the one used to makin’ sure a whole load of lookie-loos don’t get sticky fingers while folks are talkin’ shop elsewhere. You’re better with words. Head on in. But watch yourself.”

  Nita shut down the steam cart and hopped down. The strangely dressed residents of the camp gave her a wide berth but couldn’t seem to keep their eyes off her as she walked toward the leader’s wagon. She didn’t know if it was the curiosity of having a Calderan among them, the awe of dealing with a Wind Breaker crewmember, or simple distrust. It was also possible that the apparent lack of any women in camp had something to do with their dedicated interest. She casually slid her hand to one of the two cheater bars hanging at her belt like swords. Most of the equipment she carried to get her job done could serve double duty as a weapon with a little imagination, but the stout steel rods required little imagination at all. Hopefully, that would be enough to keep anyone from doing something regrettable.

  They opened the door for her, revealing the glow of an oil lamp within. After navigating in nearly perfect darkness for so long, she found the light uncomfortably bright as it gave her the first clear glimpse of the nearby camp. It was even more dilapidated than it seemed. The nearest cage had three of the horse-size tree-dwelling creatures that she’d come to fear when traversing The Thicket. Until now she’d only seen them in flashes as they streaked by. Now that it had nowhere to go to escape the light, she saw it for what it was. A massive, twisted, vicious-looking… squirrel. Long claws, chisel-like incisors, wild eyes, and a huge, fluffy tail.

  “Oi! Inside. Time’s precious,” remarked her guide, gesturing to the doorway.

  She climbed inside the wagon. The soft suspension of the vehicle-turned-residence made it rock precariously as she entered. The inside was not so different from the interior of the crew quarters within the Wind Breaker. Tiny, cramped, and with every last bit of space packed with necessities and niceties. A desk, hinged down from one wall, split the place in two like the counter of a general store. The man who sat behind it was the strangest-looking member of the group they’d encountered so far. He was one of the scrawnier fug folk, and was clinging to some semblance of the civility of the settings that such individuals typically inhabited. He wore a clean white shirt with worn cuffs and collar. Small round spectacles perched on his nose, and his hair was styled close to his head with the waxy sheen of too much pomade. At the same time, scars thatched his papery skin, and his hands were the gnarled, callus-laden mitts of someone who worked hard every day of his life. His suspenders were made from some sort of poorly tanned hide. Stretched across his chest was a holster bearing a hunting knife the size of a small sword. He was equal parts accountant and adventurer.

  He adjusted his glasses as she sat in the three-legged, folding stool set up before the desk.

  “You want to hire us,” he said in a voice roughened by a few too many cigars.

  “Hire you. Partner with you. Whatever it takes,” Nita said.

  “You know we do fur, pelt, meat, bone, and ivory trade, plus safari and hunting-party guidance. I don’t suppose that is the nature of your proposed employment.”

  “No. We were thinking of something more along the lines of mercenary work.”

  “Mmm… That ship of yours just can’t seem to keep the blood off its hands.”

  “As the captain might say, we only give as good as we get.”

  “My boys know their way around a rifle. It takes an awful lot more skill to take down the stuff wandering this forest than it does to take down a few soldiers. And even more skill than that to take it alive, which is how we make the most money.”

  “I’m not bloodthirsty, sir, but I suspect in this instance we aren’t interested in taking people alive. We don’t specifically need them to kill anyone either. Chaos and destruction are the primary goal.”

  “Difficult to claim the moral high ground with an aim like that.”

  “It is a long, complex story, but suffice it to say our target’s past successes and recent intent are enough to provide justification for a profound amount of hostility and chaos. And the circumstances of our survival don’t leave much room for morality.”

  “Why us?”

  “Lil seemed to think you’d have something to offer. If you’ve been able to capture fug squirrels—”

  “Squarrels.”

  “… If you’ve been able to capture squarrels, I think she’s right.”

  “It takes a certain amount of fortitude most people lack.” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “My time’s valuable and so is yours, so let’s not beat about the bush. That sort of thing will get you killed out here. What have you got to offer?”

  “Up front, several hundred rounds of ammunition. When we’re through, whatever your men can carry from the facility we’re targeting.”

  “What facility is that?”

  “I can’t say. If you turn out not to be trustworthy, we can’t afford to have you warning the people involved.”

  “What sort of facility?”

&
nbsp; “Heavy industrial.”

  “Not much need for that stuff around here.”

  “As I’ve learned working with the Wind Breaker, it’s not what you need, it’s what your customers need.”

  “Our customers need fur, pelt, meat, bone, and ivory, plus safari and hunting-party guidance.”

  “Then imagine the new customers you can get.”

  “Unless you can come up with something better than that, I think we’re done here.”

  Nita took a breath. “I can offer you the carrot, or the stick. The carrot is everything I’ve said so far, plus the knowledge that I am a Calderan, and one of rather considerable means. My homeland is where trith comes from, as well as a thousand other things that the Wind Breaker and the Wind Breaker alone can fetch. The Wind Breaker owing you a favor is worth its weight in gold. There is nothing in this world more valuable than having us as your allies.

  “And then there’s the stick. I don’t need to tell you the stories about what the Wind Breaker has done. And trust me when I say this: you don’t know the half of it. If you turn us down, we’ll find some other way to do what we have to do. And when we’re through, we’ll have some time on our hands. Because we don’t fail. And we never forget.”

  Lusk looked at her levelly. “Chaos is all you’re after?”

  “It’s all we need.”

  “How much time have you got?”

  “Less than three weeks.”

  “And you want to pay us to help you cause some chaos.”

  “As many men as you can spare, and whatever equipment or techniques you can offer that will make for a… disruptive ground presence.”

  “In exchange for a pile of ammunition, assorted salvage, and various Calderan contraband to be named later, in addition to avoiding the future wrath of the Wind Breaker.”

  “That’s the offer.”

  Lusk stood. Nita did so as well. They looked each other in the eye. Finally, he extended his hand. “I think we can oblige you.” He flipped the desk out of the way. “Outside.”

  They climbed out of the wagon.

  “Boys! I’m going to need volunteers. And by volunteers, I mean whoever isn’t booked for hunting or expedition. Ladies, follow me.” He reached back through the doorway and fetched the oil lamp from within.