The Fire Cage

by Scott Hungerford

  “Regretfully, I can’t say I did,” Rajon replied. “But your father did talk now and again about growing up under Mercuri’s thumb, and how he had plans for making a hundred fortunes off of the inventions that Mercuri had been working on, just as soon as he found a way to get them working.”

  Davin smiled. “Vincent told me about his a passion for inventions a lot, myself.” Davin said. “When he came to visit my mother and I when I was a boy, he was always kind and sweet. He always had such great plans, and such a love for clockworks, and we used to spend hours in front of Clockers just watching the figures dance. But nothing ever seemed to come of his plans, except for more excess and empty promises.” His face fell, as the reality of the day settled in once more. “Then, when I was about eleven, he stopped coming. A couple of years later, he was dead, and wouldn’t be coming back at all.”

  “I suspect you’re different from your father,” Rajon said. “As I suspect you’re not going to be a slave to cards, women, and drink the way he was.”

  Davin nodded, agreeing with the man. “I’m not the best man in the world, but I’m not enslaved by my vices either, which makes up for it.” He stood for a moment in the cold, feeling the gravel poking up through the bottoms of his well topped, but thin-soled shoes.

  “How about this,” Rajon said at last. “Once we draw up a fair contract at the Barrister’s Offices, I’ll generously front the thousand hundred nobles to you, so you can purchase your title on the morrow, and you can become the newest, most penniless member of the noble class. Then we visit the Hall of Records, then we will go visit Father Guiseppe at the Abbey and reclaim your father’s goods, fair and square. Whatever comes out of it, if there is worth to be had now or in the future, then we split it three ways. You take two-thirds, and Verona and I split the remaining third, within the fairness of the Emperor’s laws.”

  “You’re not serious?” Davin said, astonished.

  “I’m quite serious,” Rajon said.

  “You’d split it with me?” Verona exclaimed to Rajon. “I’m not even your real daughter.”

  “I have my reasons,” Rajon stated to the girl, before turning back to Davin. “I’m not a very nice man, Davin. I’m not well liked, and I tend to rub people the wrong way. But, as my confession, I’ll admit I have a curiosity streak a mile wide when it comes to inventions and the works of the great inventors like your grandfather. If Mercuri had one last invention that couldn’t be wrought twenty years ago, it’s possible now that the factory masters of the day might have ways of restoring that lost technology for the good of the common man. Furthermore, this scheme might advance my hope to sooner retire to a few miles of river-front estate in the Fields with more horses, fireplaces, and servants than I can count.”

  “And if there’s nothing there?” Davin asked. “If his pockets only contained lint and sealing wax and a twist or two of long-stale tobacco?”

  “Then it’s my loss, and my gamble, and you can go on your way with your worthless title.” Rajon held out his hand to Davin, just as he had earlier that day in the Fates. “Do we have a deal? Shall we go down the Hall of Records in the morning and see about your new future?”

  Davin nodded, then took and shook the man’s hand. This was still the man who drove his father to a pauper’s death, but compared to a lifetime of silent service, or being gutted at the hands of an unknown assassin, Rajon’s offer was unbelievably good. “We have a deal.”

  “But what about the people trying to kill him?” Verona asked. “Aren’t they going to be quite displeased that he’s still alive?”

  Rajon’s smile turned back into its customary vulture-like grin. “That’s exactly what I’m counting on,” he said, and would say nothing more on the matter.

  Chapter Four

  Leaving the park, the three of them crossed the street to a small public house just across the way. Still stunned by the rapid series of revelations, Davin let Verona guide him to a secluded table at the back of the crowded, smoky tavern, while Rajon went up to the bar to pay for three glasses of the best ale the house had to offer. With her hair bundled back up again, Verona had regained the semblance of a boy, but now Davin could see through it now, and had a hard time not noting just how beautiful she was beneath the actor’s veneer.

  “Sorry again about trouncing you today at the Fates,” Verona said, as the two of them pulled out chairs and sat down. “It was kind of foul what Rajon did to you, with the chips and all.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Davin said, even as he looked around the tavern-room filled with unfamiliar faces. “How long have you been playing Thrush like that? To that caliber?”

  “Rajon has been teaching me for a year or so. But today was the first time I played on my own, instead of just standing by Rajon’s side watching him fleece the sheep.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “Not saying that you’re a sheep. But, well, you are. But in a nice way. Oh, that didn’t come out right. Right?”

  “Right,” Davin said, not sure what to make of his new friend. Whether she was smart or daft, Verona’s brain seemed to work at a frenzied pace, as if she were thinking of some new exciting thing to say every few seconds or so. Looking up at the bar, he saw that Rajon was still standing in line, gazing out the window towards the moonlit street beyond. He had an unreadable look on his face, a mix of emotions that Davin couldn’t quite make sense of. Down deep, Davin knew that Rajon was still the man who drove his father’s death — but his odd reaction to the news of Davin’s mother’s murder left Davin wondering about the gambler’s true motives.

  “So, what do you like to do?” Davin finally asked her, as a way to break the awkward silence and to get her to stop staring at him in such an unsettling way. “Do you like to read?”

  “Oh, yes,” Verona said, smoothing her pant legs with her palms. “Very much so.”

  “My mother taught me to read when I was just a youngling. I’m still grateful,” Davin said. “Not a lot of the other street kids could, and it became quite the valued commodity. What do you like to read?”

  “Oh…” she said whimsically, “books on astrology and the occult and lightning and ghosts and wind-machines and anything else I can get my hands on. My own mother and father died when I was small, and my uncle, who became my guardian by default, was a collector of antiques and curiosities. Back before the Empire broke the King’s back, it was a hanging crime to traffic in the black arts — which made it more than lucrative for people like my uncle to buy and sell items of an illegally occult nature. While the Emperor is a little more lax on the subject, a lot of the laws are still on the books, so a person can’t be too careful about what they have laying about.”

  Davin blinked. “So, you read about those kinds of things? Ghosts? For fun?”

  “I grew up reading hundreds of books from my uncle’s hidden library,” she said cheerily. “After Rajon bought me, and my uncle went to prison for defrauding an agent of the Emperor’s Court, I started to have to find my own books. A girl has to have her knowledge after all, even if it means breaking into Marble houses after dark. They have the best libraries, by any comparison.”

  “You’re an idiot,” Davin said, a little more forcefully than he’d expected. “Stealing from the estates is a major criminal offense. Everybody knows that. Even the dumbest kid in the Height knows not to climb the fences up here. They’ll gut you behind the walls or lock you up for a hundred years.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Verona replied. “I wasn’t stealing anything. Even if I was caught sitting in their library reading their old illegal creaky books about arithmomancy or spiritualism or cadaver dissection, breaking into a house is a minor crime by comparison to stealing from one. I’ve scared a few servants’ hair white in my time, but I’ve never been caught long enough to be taken to the Judges.”

  “Dear Saints,” Davin said, sitting back in his chair. “You’re a handful. I’m surprised that Rajon didn’t throw you back.”

  “I’m glad he didn’t throw you back either,�
� Verona replied with a soft purr in her voice. Davin swallowed, not sure how to respond to that. Thankfully, Rajon came up moments later with three glasses in hand, each brimming with a frothy-head of foam.

  “Am I interrupting anything?” Rajon asked.

  “A bit,” Verona said, just a touch grumpy.

  “Not at all,” Davin said, scooting his chair over a little bit. With a flourish, the gambler sat down in his chair, set the glasses on the table, then placed his cane down against the rail beside him. Verona, without asking, took up one of the mugs and drained half the contents with a series of lusty swallows, smacking her foam-covered lips afterwards for effect. Davin, trying his own glass, was shocked at the lemony quality of the beer. He’d had bread-dark beers before, heavy and thick down at the pubs in the Height, but this ale was as light as air and surprisingly tasty.

  “I’m glad you came to me,” Rajon told Davin, “though you still have me at something of a disadvantage. I hadn’t planned on taking on anyone new for a few months yet. The best accommodations I can offer you this evening is a rented room upstairs, which is ready for you when you’re prepared to retire.”

  “There are others in your employ?” Davin asked.

  “A few,” Verona replied, before Rajon could speak. “There are people that Rajon helps out, like you.” She started to say something more, but Rajon cleared his throat, stopping her mid-sentence.

  “What she means to say,” Rajon said, “is that people that I do favors for often owe me favors in return. Like the Banker today at the Fates, who stands amongst the least of my lot. Once mutual need is established, we come to… arrangements of mutual benefit and satisfaction.”

  “So, what kind of people do you make these… arrangements with?” Davin asked.

  “There’s Stephan and Lace,” Verona blustered out. “They’re grifters over in River with a knack for stealing from thieves who take too much. And Cricket, who runs a brothel in Downwind that’s beyond imagination! Then there’s Durant, who now serves in the Emperor’s cavalry ever since he got his title back — and Felicity, who by my book is nothing better than a wolf spider with tits.”

  Rajon cleared his throat again, indicating that it was time for Verona to be quiet. Verona sighed dejectedly and nuzzled into her beer once again. “So, Davin,” Rajon said formally, “let’s discuss something more pertinent. Did your father ever talk to you about Mercuri’s inventions?”

  “Not as much as I’d like. The…” Davin trailed off, choosing his words carefully in such a public place. “The things that he showed me didn’t make any sense to me, but my father was convinced that he was really onto something. That what he’d found could change the world.”

  “With the right things, he likely could,” Rajon said. “In that area, Vincent was no fool.”

  “You know, science and sorcery are compatible,” Verona piped up.

  “Theoretically,” Rajon snapped, angry at her newest interruption. “But science, as Davin knows, with its hard edges and provable theorems, is far superior to ghost-knocking and parlor-tricks.”

  “I like reading about science, too,” Verona said, smiling sweetly over her beer at Davin. “You’d think with the Emperor’s interest in the subject, the laws about the occult would have been changed by now. But no... There are too many people in charge who are still frightened at the possibility of conjury existing, especially in church circles. But it’s all very controllable, if you have the right tools and rituals. Theoretically speaking, that is.”

  “Now, Davin,” Rajon said, doing his best to run over her line of conversation. “Have you found any sign of mechanical aptitude in yourself? Have you tried building any machines or inventions out of bits and parts?”

  “When I was working in Florin’s,” Davin replied, “I would watch the Automatons get built in the Foundries, and would sometimes could get close enough to see how they went together. Back at home, I spent some time tinkering with gears and turnabouts and trying to put broken clocks back together for my mother. But as an Eighteener at Florin’s, I didn’t get to see much in the factory right up close. I had to work the small bits out for myself.”

  “But you have succeeded in repairing some of these things?”

  “Yes,” Davin said, “I’ve put clocks back together, and I have a mind for mechanical subjects. Before I ended up at Florin’s, my mother wanted to apprentice me to at the clockmaker’s down the street.”

  “Good, good,” Rajon said. “Your father had… a lack of ability in that area. He could calculate like a master, but he didn’t have much sense for how things went together beyond the moment.”

  “My mother said that about him a lot,” Davin said. “That he had a kind heart, but he wasn’t much of a provider. He wasn’t good at thinking ahead. But to his credit, he did come around enough to teach me to speak like a gentleman’s son and taught me to play cards like a demon.”

  “I would agree to that,” Rajon said. “In my time with Vincent, both across the table and beside it, he was a man of unusual character. He was conflicted, especially after the sudden fall of the estate and its charters into his hands. He wasn’t prepared for an event of that enormity, and I fear he handled it poorly.”

  “By gambling it all away,” Davin said bitterly.

  “By letting people like me take advantage of him,” Rajon corrected.

  “What are you trying to say?” Davin said, a little louder than he’d have liked.

  “Just that you’re not your father. I suspect that when we find out more tomorrow about… certain things, that I hope you don’t judge yourself by the same standards.”

  “What are we talking about?” Verona asked, a little bit confused.

  “I’m not sure,” Davin said, as he pushed the still-full glass away from him a little bit. “But I think it’s time I get some sleep. It’s been a very long day.”

  Rajon sat in silence for a moment, before reaching in his pocket and taking out a brass key and slapping it down on the tabletop. “Number fifteen. The room is all yours, and this is the only key.”

  “Good,” Davin said angrily, as he took the key up from the table. He stood up from his chair, ignoring Verona’s quizzical look. “Thanks for the beer. I’ll see you down here in the morning, and we’ll go see about our business.”

  “That we shall,” Rajon said, even as he leaned back in his chair, his face masked into a perfect, emotionless countenance.

  “Good night?” Verona asked, even as Davin walked off into the crowd without a word. After she’d watched him ascend the stairs, she turned to Rajon with an irritated look on her face. “He just lost his mother. Do you have to be such a brute?”

  “I know what he lost,” Rajon said sadly, as he sipped his beer. “Now finish your drink, and I’ll take you to your room. We have a big day on the ‘morrow.”

  Pouting, Verona pushed her beer away from her, in just the way that Davin had, then sat back in her chair, arms crossed, glaring at her father-by-law as if he would light on fire by the power of her stare.

  .oOo.

  Davin’s room upstairs was small, with a strange smell to it that reminded him a little bit of camphor and wax. Closing and locking the door behind him, he took off his coat and tossed it on the bed. Sitting down in the chair by the window, he put his head in his hands and wept, suddenly taken by an overpowering wave of sorrow.

  While he’d wondered off and on during his life about what it would be like to move away from his mother, about what it would be like to be alone, or even what would happen after she died, Davin was utterly unprepared for Yori’s loss. More than that, he was unprepared for the weight of the blame and guilt on his soul, that he should have been the one dead and furnaced, not gentle, wise-cracking Yori in his place.

  For too many years the two of them had done everything together, from chasing girls to stealing things they didn’t need from the knick-knack shops down by the Dob. Now he just wanted someone to talk to, who he could trust, more than Verona and Rajon or old Mrs.
Mercher. He wanted his mother back so badly that he would do anything to try to heal the hole in his heart.

  The very idea of Yori’s body being incinerated was horrifying, but in a way that was part of normal life in the factories. But for his mother to be down at the Ice House without anyone to claim or bury her was altogether more terrifying, and something he had to fix. But if he were the murderer, if he were the one who had gone out of the way to make a public example of Beatrice and Davin Washer, the Ice House would be the next place he would lurk once he realized that Davin was still alive, if he realized, which meant Davin couldn’t afford to step near it. Not just yet, not until the killer had been unmasked.

  Frustrated, he unfastened his iron cufflinks and threw them both across the room, so they skittered and bounced across the floor like jacks. After everything that had happened today, he was in a terrible corner now. But he was ready to take Rajon’s help, and Verona’s too, and would see what good could be gained from his title and his father’s funerary effects. He just hoped he could trust the two of them on a base level, and that he could get through the next few days without having answers to his endless questions of ‘why’.

  After splashing his face with cold water from the basin, Davin undressed and got into bed. As he pulled the cold sheets over his legs, Davin wondered about his father, about what Rajon might have witnessed when he came upon the scene. About whether Rajon felt guilt or remorse of any kind at seeing Davin’s father laying dead from a bottle of poison. Davin doubted it, though some of the reactions that he’d seen in the man today, about his reaction to Davin’s mother left him wondering about the vulture’s motives. He was Gambler’s Death after all, and Davin didn’t know if he was a genius or a fool to be falling in with him. But Davin sensed that Rajon hadn’t done or ordered either of the murderous deeds, which had some merit of its own.

  Turning over, punching his pillow twice to try to put some pluff into it, Davin settled into cold dreams, of factory whistles and crowded mobs, and broken wash tubs spilling their waters out into the cobbled street. By the time morning came, when Davin awoke with tears on his cheeks, he knew he was facing a new kind of day that he had never expected to see.