by Kent Davis
The boy shook his head, a dog breaking a hare’s back. “No, Avid! Don’t you try to use sense here. Ward Burk just killed Ward Cole, and we are out in the middle of the wilderness, and”—he was kicking a tree and yelling—“we don’t know who to trust!”
Avid grabbed him and shook him. “Stop it, Levi!”
He went for her ankle, a savvy move, trying to bring the bigger girl down. She pivoted with it and landed on him, knocking the breath from his body.
“Cadet”—she was nose to nose with him—“you’re right. We are in the wild, and who knows who else is out there? Howl one more word, and I swear to you I will have Gideon sit on you until you until you are a little old man.”
Never took a step forward grim faced. “Stop it.”
Gideon said, “Avid—”
“Quiet!” Avid stood up. The leather tie on her hair came loose, and she bunched it back up, breathing heavy. Nobody said anything. “We have a comrade to send to rest. Then we talk. Yes?”
They nodded.
The five of them stood by the grave as the rising sun crept through the tree trunks.
Gideon coughed. “There might should be words for Ward Cole.”
Never had her hands in front of her, clasping her fingers together over and over. “And Ward Burk. And those men, whoever they were.”
It was Levi who scrubbed his hands on his dirty breeches and said, “I don’t know the Reeve words, but Pa taught us from the Gospel of St. Empirical. I could do that.”
When no one piped up, Avid nodded. “It might not be what he wanted, but it’s what we’ve got.”
As if by some kind of hidden signal, they all bowed their heads. Ruby did the same. They had used the words of Empirical on the Thrift as well. It was fitting.
The improvised bandage made from Cole’s shirt had crept up. Levi tugged it back into place over his bloody ear. He cleared his throat and scrunched up one eye, as if he could squint the words into being. Then he started singing. Sweet as a lark.
My days have been so wondrous free,
The little birds that fly
With careless ease from tree to tree
Were but as blessed as I,
Were but as blessed as I.
Ask the gliding waters,
If ever a tear of mine
Increased their stream betime,
And ask the breathing gales
If ever I lent a sigh,
If ever I lent a sigh.
His face had gone all peaceful while he sang, but it tensed right up as soon as he was done. He stared off into nowhere.
“That was real nice, Levi,” Avid said. Ruby wiped some wet from her face. It must have been the morning dew. She didn’t know what to feel. The Reeve had taken her from her family. She was as much a tool as Sleipnir, and the Swede was, well, harvesting her. And yet she didn’t feel happy to see these people dead. She didn’t feel victorious. Cole had been good to her. Burk had been good to her, but whatever else she was—secret assassin? A spy for the Grocers? An agent of whoever was starting this war?—she was dirt now. All Ruby was was hollow. And tired. And scared.
They all kicked and poked at the ground a bit, and then they came together around Sleipnir. After the last brigand had fallen, the gearhorse had gone still.
Levi looked at his sister, as if he didn’t trust himself to speak.
“Who were they?” Never said. “And why kill Cole?”
Ruby knew what Athena might say. “He was the threat. A true reeve would have tipped the balance of that fight, especially with Sleipnir.”
“But why were they here in the first place?” Never pressed on. “To stop our mission? To take Sleipnir?”
“Or for the Sweetling?” Avid said.
Was it for Ruby?
Avid clapped the dirt from her hands. “Well, none of them can tell us. Do we stay the course or go back?”
Gideon broke in. “I think we should go back. The lord captain needs to know what happened. Something’s wrong. This was a secret mission. How did they know where to look for us?” He straightened his ridiculous cook’s hat. “If they found us, others might be looking, too.”
Never Curtsie fiddled with Levi’s bandage. “How’s your ear?”
Levi shook his head and then growled in pain. “I’ll be fine. We should finish this mission. It is what we are. Ward Corson says the task is what we are.”
Avid slowly nodded. “I think Levi is right. We have a mission, and who knows how long we have to do it or whether this is the only opportunity?” She looked about. “We’re baptized now. I say we keep on.”
Never said, “I’m with you. What do you say, Teach?”
It surprised her that they even asked, but they all waited on her answer. Even Avid. The way ahead was filled with uncertainty. The way behind held only gray wood walls and more helpings of Swede. “Onward.”
Ruby helped the Curtsies and Gideon break camp and repack Sleipnir’s saddlebags. Avid, as the oldest, took on the part of the weed doctor. They had cleaned and salvaged Cole’s clothes as best they could, and as Avid pulled them on, Ruby clearly saw her back for the first time. It was a map of raised skin. Burns, she realized. The others were busy with packing. The two of them were oddly alone.
“Avid,” Ruby said.
The girl pulled down Cole’s shirt and turned over her shoulder. “Teach?”
“What happened to you? To your back?”
Maybe it was the fight, maybe it was Levi’s hymn, but Avid didn’t sneer away Ruby’s question. She looked at Ruby a moment. “Second mate and milliner, right? Your parents?”
“Yes.”
“Not all of us had that.”
Ruby caught the look on her face and took great care with her next question. “Is that why you’re so good at Works? Whatever it is that happened?”
Avid pulled on the dead man’s boots. “I don’t know. I guess the Void comes easy when there’s nothing you want to remember.” She walked off to help the others. Ruby had hated her for so long. She was so smug, harsh, skilled . . . but Ruby was coming to realize that she was other things as well. Brave. Diligent. Tenacious. It was strange.
They set out.
Ruby welcomed the silence as they passed through the still-waking forest. It was a well-traveled road, and as the mist dispersed into the bright, warm morning, several travelers passed them, heading for the safety of the cities.
Parkersburg was a busy little village, full of bustle and grit, nestled up against a forested mountain. Their dirty faces fit right in in a town where mining was the only business. There was a pump and a long trough in the middle of the town square, and they all stopped for a drink. Levi filled a cup and held it out to Sleipnir, who actually sniffed it before moving her snout away. The gearhorse had begun to display more horsey qualities, but needing food and drink wasn’t part of them. Evram had said her four sparkstones would last months. It was hard to think of her as an artifice. She looked, she felt so alive. After the ambuscade, had the gearhorse been walking closer to her? It was silly, maybe, but the thought that they might be becoming friends warmed Ruby all over. A big roan down at the other end of the trough wanted nothing to do with a metal cousin and snuffled and blew, giving Sleipnir a wild eye. Strangers in wartime, they all got more than their share of suspicious looks. Should they have come in at night?
Avid scanned the square. “Levi, find me that orphanage.” The boy’s eyes flicked to his sister, who gave the slightest of nods before he disappeared into the crowd. They all looked away studiously.
After a short time Levi appeared next to Ruby, drinking from the trough as if he’d been there since it was built. Barnacles, but he was good. As good as Ruby maybe. “Wake, I found the house.” They gathered around as he took another drink. “Two wool merchants were going on about it.”
“What did they say?” Avid and Ruby said at the same time.
“The wool merchants used to use the children to work on their finer garments, but they all packed up about a week ago.
They said it’s just louts and vagrants now. Follow me.” And he headed back the way they had come.
Louts and vagrants? Was any of their information good? Were they walking into a trap? Was this all some intricate ruse by Wisdom Rool to rid himself of her for good? Ruby barely saw the gleaming green leaves of the forest as they wound their way through it, dappled with late-afternoon sunlight.
Gideon Stump said, “Ruby,” and that pulled her back to the world.
A venerable wooden gate hung from one hinge of a split rail fence. A dilapidated sign announced cheerfully, RUPERT’S BAY COMPANY HOME FOR MISLAID YOUTH!, the letters barely legible from the menagerie of cute little animals that peered through p’s and perched atop the o’s.
“Charming,” Ruby said.
A rough dirt track headed straight from the gate into a cluster of apple trees in the shoulder of the mountain.
“The ruts in the road are deep,” Never said. “Heavier things than children in the wagons coming out of there.”
Avid led them off the road and into the thick underbrush along the fence line.
Darkness fell, and they waited another hour or so. Avid turned to Levi. “Scout ahead for us, Curtsie? We’ll wait here.”
Levi nodded, twisting his waist this way and that. He disappeared into the orchard.
Hours crept by. The moon rose in a cloudless sky. Levi tapped Gideon on the shoulder.
“Gah!” Gideon spat. “Stop that, you demon! I nearly jumped out of my skin!”
Levi grinned. Filed teeth glinted in the moonlight. “I’ve found it. Follow me.”
They wended their way through the white-blossomed trees until they stopped at the bottom of a high hill. Levi got down on his belly, and they all followed him up. On the other side of the hill sat a huge old house, backed right up against a high cliff. Parkersburg would be somewhere on the other side of the cliff, but from here the house was the only structure in sight. It was completely isolated.
Levi whispered, “Wait a moment. There.” He pointed toward the wide front porch. A shadow rounded the corner and walked the length of the house, stopped for a moment and crouched, then disappeared at the back edge near the cliff. “The round takes about two hundred breaths. I watched three times.” He pointed to where the shadow stopped. “Two double doors there, down to a root cellar.”
Avid motioned them all back down the hill. “That guard’s not just some lout. He looks like he knows his business. Mind your p’s and q’s, my friends. Whatever we are going into, it is not what was expected.” She handed Ruby the tin whistle, the one Ward Cole had been holding. “Cole said to use this when we got to the root cellar.”
Ruby looked the whistle over. “What’s it for?”
Avid said, “You should ask Ward Cole. I’m sure he’ll tell you.”
Ruby gave her a look and pulled her picks out of nowhere with a flourish.
Avid blinked, and then she quirked a smile. “Cross me, Sweetling, and I’ll come for you.”
Ruby thought about holding her tongue for about two seconds.
“If I crossed you, you’d have a better chance finding a frog on a treetop.” Was that how she wanted to leave it? No. She flexed her wrists. “I want this to work. You can trust me. We are in this together.” As she said it, Ruby realized she meant it. She looked about at the other four: the Curtsies, primed to unleash their fury; stout Gideon, quietly poised; and Avid, the savvy leader. They were not the crew she wanted, but they were the crew she had. She needed them, and they needed her. And they were all of them headed full sail into unknown danger.
Avid set her jaw. “And we will watch your back, Ruby Teach, and protect you with everything we have.”
Ruby checked her picks and got reacquainted with the night. “No use loafing,” she said, and set off around the side of the hill.
CHAPTER 35
Providence is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh.
—Voltaire
The sticks would have crunched under Ruby’s feet, but she picked her way among them, a bird on a branch. The trees made excellent cover. She put her shoulders against the bole of the last one between her and the farmhouse. White apple blossoms hung fat from the branches, surrounding her in a cloud of green-tasting sweetness.
Ruby Maxim Eleven: “Be More Patient than the Guard.”
After a few moments the patrol rounded the corner. He was a stout man, breathing heavily just from walking. But Ruby could see the handles of two pistols sticking up from his belt in the moonlight. She couldn’t outrun a clocklock ball and didn’t want to try, especially after what happened to Ismail Cole. The guard wheezed over to the root cellar and knelt, most likely checking the door. He levered himself up and moved on. When he rounded the back corner, Ruby counted to ten and then left the safety of the tree.
The doors were wide enough to fit a wagon and were set into the ground in an iron frame. However . . .
There was no padlock.
There was no keyhole.
The only things marking the perfectly crafted door were two pulls and a seam so clean a gnat couldn’t wiggle through. Ruby couldn’t even feel an edge when she ran her hand over it. Her thinnest pick wasn’t thin enough.
A wheeze and crunching leaves announced the guard’s return trip. She shimmied up a support onto the awning above the doors, she flattened herself to the roof, and then she blew the whistle.
Nothing happened. A bit of air came out of the little instrument, but no sound. Perfect.
She tried it again. Same result.
Ruby wanted to throw it into the night, but instead, she kept blowing, over and over. The guard rounded the corner. He worked his way down the windows, humming a jaunty tune.
Then, far off, the sound of hoofbeats. Gaining speed through the night. Coming right toward them.
Below, the guard stopped and took a breath, to yell or scream or chuckle, Ruby knew not what. She did not even realize what she was doing until she was in the air.
As she flew down from above, she glimpsed a big shape shooting across the open area between the trees and the house. Ruby slammed into the shoulders of the guard. She wheeled her arm around and stuck it, wool sleeve and all, into his mouth, only a jot before he began yelling for help.
He clapped his meaty hand across Ruby’s wrist, but she could not let him not pull her away. She clamped her other hand down on her forearm and held on for dear life.
Sleipnir galloped up, skidded to a halt in the dirt, and bowed her head. Avid slid down her neck and launched herself into the guard with a knee to the stomach. He went down wheezing, fighting for air, and Ruby rolled off. Avid’s fist slammed into his neck, and he stopped moving.
At the edge of the doors, the gallant gearhorse reared. It turned itself back the way it had come and cocked its head for a moment, as if it were listening. After a moment several somethings, each about the size of a harvest melon, dropped out of its backside. They landed on the doors with a series of clangs. Cling. Clang Clingclingclang.
It looked for all the world like a pile of metal horse manure. It began to hiss.
Sleipnir scraped her hooves back once, twice, and then galloped off.
“Help me,” Avid said. She had half rolled the unconscious guard over the little garden wall but was struggling with his back end.
“Are you serious?” Ruby asked.
“Do it!” Avid whispered. “Hurry!”
The hissing from the metal dung intensified. Ruby put her shoulder into the prone guard. Together she and Avid flopped him over the wall.
“Come on!” Avid jumped over the wall and buried her face in the leaves. Ruby hurled herself over the wall and then down between Avid and the guard. He smelled like mutton.
Nothing happened. Ruby turned to Avid. “What—”
The night lit up.
A giant jumped on Ruby’s head.
That’s what it felt like.
When Ruby woke up, apple blossoms were dancing all around her in the air. The blast had thr
own her across the yard, but Avid was still right next to the wall. She was standing, groggy in the firelight, with blood running out of her nose, trying to get her balance like a newborn colt.
The wall behind Avid leaned forward. Ruby yelled; but she could not hear herself, and neither did Avid. Ruby waved her hands furiously and ran for the other cadet. Avid blinked her eyes back into focus on Ruby, then turned. She threw herself to the side, just as the garden wall crashed down without a sound. Avid tried to get up but then fell back down on her bum, a drunk in a Charles Town alley. She would not stop looking at her hands.
The rest of the wall was burning, lighting up the scene like a gruesome fantasy. The root cellar doors had been ripped open, a raw hole punched through the metal down into the earth.
Still foggy, Ruby leapt through the ruined doors. Down the ramp a cloud of smoke roiled, masking the faint light of chem pots.
Shadows of men and women stumbled about in the smoke. One lay prone and broken; two more rushed past Ruby up the ramp, one leaning on the other’s shoulder. Ruby tripped over another body, catching herself on something wet. No time for thinking or wondering. A darker spot in the smoke showed her the passage. The smoke thickened, so she dropped to the floor and crawled.
Around the next bend the passage opened up into a larger room. On hands and knees, she weaved her way between rickety chairs and rough table legs until her hand brushed up against what she was looking for. It was the stout door of a safe, the metal cool against her fingers, with a strange square-shaped keyhole.
This was the right place. A deadly chemystral lock, and Ruby defying all reason to pick it. Just like that day so long ago in Boston. The memory warmed her to the task, and she began.
Sweat stung her eyes. She closed them. It was not as though she needed them. The picks were in, and the only way to avoid a face dissolved by aqua fortis was to remain completely still. Any excess motion, and she’d end up a Ruby-size puddle. Where would they be then? Her crew was counting on her. Clear, calm purpose flowed through her. Was this the emptiness Corson kept going on about?
The first tumbler went down.
The second.