by Carrie Patel
But Malone’s posture stiffened, and Jane supposed she didn’t have to.
Then the inspector cleared her throat, and Jane realized she was still raising the candelabra.
She held it out. “Clear off the sharp bits, will you?” She was too angry to look at the inspector and too afraid of dissolving into emotion when she most needed to keep her head clear. But after a moment, she felt the burden lifted from her arm.
She went to the bed and rubbed the linens between her fingers. It was a fine, high-quality fabric – the kind of thing whitenails would have slept on. It would almost be a shame to use it this way.
She was already tearing the top sheet into strips when Malone spoke again.
“It’s easy to leave a mess when you’re not staying around to clean it up.”
Jane was tying the first of the bedding strips together. She gave the knot in her hands an especially fierce tug. “No one made you stay to clean up Recoletta.”
“No one else was going to. Here, let me show you.” Malone took a few of the strips and knotted them together with a few more loops and tucks. “Stronger this way,” she said.
It did feel sturdier. Still, Jane wasn’t ready to thank Malone for anything just yet. “You done this before?” she asked.
The inspector only grunted.
In a few quick minutes, they had a makeshift rope between them.
They tied one end to the window frame. The other hung just over the grass below.
“Think it’ll hold us?” Malone asked, her head out the window.
Jane was privately wondering the same thing, but didn’t want to say as much. “Let’s just go one at a time.”
“I’ll go first,” Malone said.
Jane peered out the window at the ground some thirty feet below. If Malone wanted to try, she wouldn’t stop her.
She watched Malone hoist herself out the window and shimmy down the bedsheets. The fabric went taut, the knots bulging around the thinning, stretching strips, but everything held.
The garden below appeared to run the length of the building. It was laid out with thick shrubs trimmed into disconcertingly smooth rows and arches, stunted trees, and a few lamps. It abutted the river’s edge roughly one hundred feet away. Jane guessed it was just after midnight – no one else was out wandering the garden, and the buildings across the river were too far away for anyone inside to see their escape under cover of night.
The bedsheets went slack. Jane gazed down at Malone whose pale face glowed up at her like a distant moon.
Jane crawled out of the window and started down, thinking how happy she’d be if she could just keep her feet on solid ground after this. She didn’t dare look at the distance below her, so she kept her eyes on the sky above, watching the stars. Something about the dark expanse and its distant mysteries reminded her of watching the ocean from Salvage, catching flicks of movement beneath it.
The descent was going well enough until she heard a sharp hiss.
Her hands prickled with sweat as she risked a glance down at Malone, who was still an alarmingly long way below her. The inspector was waving her arms in small, urgent “hurry up” motions.
Jane looked up. Their bedsheet rope was elongating above her, one of the knots twitching as it was pulled to its limit.
She doubled her pace.
She didn’t know exactly how far she’d gone, but her feet were still wrapped around the sheets and her eyes level with the wall when she started to fall.
It didn’t last long. Her legs rang with pain as she landed, but Malone caught her about the shoulders, softening the impact.
They dusted themselves off and caught their breath. The sheets had come apart near the top, but the few tangled strips that still hung out of the window fluttered softly in the breeze, like a handkerchief waving at a train station.
“Where to now?” Malone asked.
Jane considered politely telling the inspector she was welcome to go wherever she pleased, but at the moment she wasn’t in any position to stop her from following. It would be easier to lose her later. And until then, she might be useful.
Jane pointed across the river. “This way,” she said.
They reached a bridge, which was also deserted. Jane wanted to find busy, crowded streets. Somewhere she could blend in.
Malone drew up beside her as they crossed the bridge. The waters below were almost impossibly still after the constant motion of the sea. They were smelly, too.
“I think Rothbauer let us get away too easily,” Malone said.
“You’re not the one who nearly broke a leg.” Her left knee ached despite Malone’s intervention.
“You know what I mean.” The inspector glanced over her shoulder. “My guess is he let us go. To see if we lead him to Arnault.”
She had a point. It was one Jane had been avoiding. Still, what else could they have done? “You’re welcome to go back.” The building containing Rothbauer’s apartment – and who knew how many others – was now a long, low shape squatting over the river.
“Just let me keep an eye out,” Malone said.
“As long as you don’t slow us down.” Perhaps the inspector was also using her to get to Roman. Or maybe she just wanted to buy Geist enough time to do the same. Either way, she’d have to make a break for it once they were clear of the city.
Malone gave her a sidelong glance but said nothing.
Chapter 26
The Fractured City
It was obvious to Malone that Jane didn’t trust her. It was equally obvious that the laundress was hoping to leave her behind at the earliest opportunity.
Still, for now, they both needed to get out of Nouvelle Paris, and they needed to lose any tail Rothbauer might have set on them.
“I can find the rail station,” Malone said. She remembered the one at which she and Geist’s people had arrived late at night, and she’d been careful to build a mental image of the place – the way the streets widened around it, the sloped roofs that seemed to bend away from it, and the strange spire that rose just beyond it.
That spire, now glowing with lights, pierced the skyline to the west.
“Fine,” Jane said. Her voice was tight with mistrust, but Malone was reasonably certain the young woman would stick with her at least until they reached the station.
After that, Malone would have to improvise. Not only to keep Jane close, but also to get aboard a train. After all, she didn’t have the benefit of Geist’s people to help her drag another tree across the tracks.
The distance to the spire couldn’t have been much more than a mile and a half, but the twisting, unpredictable streets made the journey feel twice as long. Furthermore, bizarre architecture warped the patchy mental map Malone had assembled. More than once, she found herself following a street that appeared to lead directly to the spire, only for it to veer steadily away. Jane appeared to hold her suspicion and frustration between clenched teeth.
But after the third time they doubled back, the laundress spoke up. “You said you’d take us to the rail station.”
“And I will,” Malone said. “But if you know a better route, you’re welcome to lead.”
“I don’t even know where it is,” Jane said, eyeing her. “Or if that’s really where you’re taking us.”
Hairs bristled along the back of Malone’s neck. The day’s trials and her lack of sleep weren’t helping her temper any, but the worst part of it was bearing the contempt of this insolent laundress who had created so many of their problems in the first place. “If I wanted to lead you back to Rothbauer, I wouldn’t have followed you out the window. And if you think I’m leading you to Geist – the man who tried to kill us both, let me remind you – then you’re more of a fool than I thought.”
Jane shot her a look of pure venom. “So it’s fine if he only wants to kill me or Roman. Just as long as he doesn’t go after you.”
“You know that’s not what I meant,” Malone said.
Jane harrumphed. “I’m sure all of
the people Sato–”
“Quiet,” Malone said. “Do you hear anything?”
Jane broke off and frowned, listening.
The streets were empty and altogether too quiet. Malone didn’t know much about Nouvelle Paris, but she knew enough about cities at midnight to suspect this was unusual. And all the detritus of urban living – discarded paper wrappers, scraps of food, cigarette butts – seemed to confirm this.
She remembered Geist’s talk of recent unrest. The brooding, stewing city felt familiar.
“Jane, we need to be careful,” she said.
The younger woman acknowledged with a vague hum of assent. Jane just wanted to leave, and as quickly as possible – Malone saw that much in her hurried, stiff-legged pace.
Presently, a distant rumble arose ahead of them. Something about it reminded Malone of packed, tense crowds at train stations. She wanted to steer clear, but Jane kept going.
Malone cleared her throat. “We shouldn’t–”
“If someone’s following us, a crowd’s the best place to lose them,” Jane said. She didn’t break her stride.
Malone sighed. Jane was her only chance of finding Roman and keeping him out of Rothbauer’s hands, so she had no choice but to follow.
The noise of the crowd steadily rose. After several minutes, the two women emerged into a packed plaza. Hundreds of people gathered, arms and voices raised. They reminded her vaguely of Geist and his people. They were shouting about Rothbauer, about Arnault, about liberty. Malone couldn’t make out most of their words, but their rage was clear enough, and it was burning hot enough to boil over.
And the idea of being trapped in the midst of another furious mob terrified Malone.
Jane, however, was still shouldering her way past and between people in a way that reminded Malone of an impatient child shoving through a buffet line. It was only a matter of time before she caused a ruckus.
Yet the younger woman pressed on, and the people she shoved past mostly seemed to ignore her. Whether it was her short stature, her general ability to blend in with her surroundings, or something else, Malone couldn’t say. All she knew was that she had to use every sharp angle and hard surface in her body to part the crowd, and she was barely keeping up.
She hoped anyone following them was having at least as hard a time of it.
And then, before Malone could put her finger on what was wrong, alarm bells went off in her head. The crowd began to agitate and undulate in a way that reminded her of the food riot. Maxwell Street Station. The stormy sea tossing Geist’s lifeboats around.
Shots erupted from somewhere to the right. Screams echoed throughout the crowd. Jane ran, and Malone followed.
The clamor of shouts, gunshots, and stampeding feet rose around them. Jane, despite her shorter legs and injured knee, was pushing ahead with more desperate speed than Malone would have thought possible.
At least the throng around them was mostly headed in the same direction. Malone couldn’t tell where it led except “away.”
Suddenly, the movement ahead of Malone slowed, and the people behind her pressed into her back. Buildings rose around them; they were caught in a bottleneck where the streets branched from the plaza.
And Jane was nowhere to be seen.
Malone glanced around, searching the crowd for Jane’s face or the familiar shape of her head with her dark hair gathered in a bun at her neck, all the while trying to stay upright and steady against the frantic horde.
Something grabbed at her ankle. Malone looked down just long enough to see a man curled on the ground and reaching out with one bloodied hand, and then the crowd swept her further ahead.
She fought the nauseated panic rising in her chest and kept scanning for Jane.
Finally she saw her. The laundress was a handful of people away, her head tilted back and her mouth open in a silent scream. She was being crushed by the people around her.
Malone shoved her way to the young woman’s side and elbowed the person behind her, creating just enough room for Jane to slip free. Malone grabbed her shoulders before she could fall and suffer the same fate as the half-trampled man.
“Move diagonally,” Malone shouted. “Lead with your shoulder.”
Gasping, Jane nodded.
They pushed along through the crowd, and at last cross-streets opened up around them. Most of the panicked people were still moving blindly forward, so the two women had to angle their way to one of the open streets to reach it.
But they did, and it was as though the city had just expanded around them.
“If anyone was following, I’m hoping we lost them,” Malone said.
Jane nodded, still sucking deep, ragged breaths. “We gotta get out of this city.”
Malone scanned the skyline until she found the shape of a familiar spire. Less than half a mile to go. “This way,” she said.
Jane was either too shaken or too exhausted to argue. When they finally reached the rail station, Malone could have whooped with relief. The wide, squat building bulged with mismatched terminals. Even at this hour, scores of people milled around it, fleeing the present unrest.
“What now?” Jane asked, ever alert and mistrustful.
When Malone had arrived with Geist early in the morning, they’d taken back routes and service passages in hopes of avoiding security. She thought back to their route. “There’s an entrance for catering around the back,” she said. “Then we can hop on any train we want.” That was the idea, anyway. She’d snuck aboard a freight train in Recoletta months ago by finding the right opening – this shouldn’t be any different.
Of course, she was also hoping Jane knew where Roman had gone. And that she would point them to the train that would take them to him.
More likely, of course, was that Jane would try to leave her behind as soon as they were inside the station.
“Just so we’re clear,” Malone said, “if you disappear once we’re inside, I’m raising the alarm.”
Jane gave her a calculating frown. “So that Rothbauer can lock us up again?”
“I don’t want that, but neither do you. So we stick together for now.”
Malone couldn’t tell if the laundress believed her bluff or not.
“Lead the way,” Jane said, all false pleasantness.
Next to the catering entrance were crates of all weights and sizes which people were carrying into the station. Malone and Jane chose a box each and continued inside without trouble.
The mood in the station was tense, with passengers and guards keeping to themselves and watching one another carefully, but it was a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the riot.
Malone shifted the crate in her arms and scanned the posted signs with their ever-more-familiar words. “Northbound trains are straight ahead,” she muttered to Jane. “Southbound and eastbound lines are that way.”
After a pause, Jane spoke. “We’re headed to Cologne-de-le-Kur.” Her voice was tight and sullen.
Malone found the name – or what looked like it – on the board for northbound lines. “After you,” she said.
Jane led them to a train surrounded by agitated people and puffing steam. Would-be passengers crowded the doors of the cars up ahead while the harried attendants checked their tickets one by one. The place was far more crowded than it had been when she and Geist had arrived – she wondered if the riots had something to do with so many people leaving. At any rate, she wasn’t sure if anyone at the train station was searching for them yet – or if anyone here even knew what they looked like – but there was no sense in getting caught now.
Fortunately, the platform was busy enough that no one appeared to be paying any attention to two women carrying cargo amidst the nervous passengers and groggy crew.
“They’re loading the freight cars down there,” Malone said. “We’ll take these.” She hefted her crate.
“And then?”
She was making this up as she went along, but there was no sense in letting Jane know that. “Just follow me
.”
There were about a dozen freight cars. Malone guided them toward one near the middle and slipped inside.
After several minutes, the whistle shrieked and the train began to move. The muscles in her jaw and shoulders relaxed, releasing tension she hadn’t realized was there. Malone felt the rumbling of the train in the soles of her feet and the arch of her back, and she realized how exhausted she was. Across from her, the laundress was quiet and apparently lost in her own thoughts.
Malone felt her thoughts drifting back to the train she’d snuck aboard months ago, and the strange library to which it had taken her. She wondered where this journey would end.
For now, at least, there was nowhere to go. Malone let herself drift off to sleep. She had a feeling she’d need all her strength later.
* * *
As the train rumbled on, Jane watched the mottled blue and black of the sky through the open hatch in the ceiling. She was almost certain Roman had headed toward the vault in an attempt to destroy it – he’d been intent on doing that since their departure from Recoletta. She was equally certain that Malone would kill him if she got the chance, assuming she knew the danger the vault posed. In fact, she’d probably kill her too, if she realized she knew the code. And from all Rothbauer’s men had said about Geist, she had to assume the revolutionary had told her all about the vault.
She was beginning to appreciate what Petrosian had meant about the danger of Malone’s convictions.
She needed to get away from Malone at the earliest opportunity. The inspector had been asleep since departing Nouvelle Paris, but they were still moving too fast for Jane to risk a jump.
The sky overhead had begun to pale to violet when the train began to slow to a stop. Something about the moment seemed odd to Jane – she couldn’t hear, see, or smell any signs of a nearby city. And the stop was far too sudden.