by Mark Eller
Both young women smiled openly as they rose and curtsied. Their family resemblance to each other was clear. Their resemblance to Mister Buntson was almost nonexistent.
Aaron smiled back. "Thank you for watching Autumn. Consider today as a day off until seven o'clock."
"Thank you," Miss Fulbright said. She wore heavy glasses and had something of a distracted air about her. Aaron bet himself she was the scholar.
"Yes, thank you," added Miss Coaspree. Her eyes stayed a moment too long on him, and a small smile curled the corner of her lips. Aaron fought back a frown at her obvious flirtation. It sometimes seemed as if he would never escape feminine speculation.
* * *
Patton remained in the background as Aaron ran Autumn through a quick verbal course on runabouts. Autumn listened attentively to everything he said, then quickly hopped on her smaller machine and rode around the yard. Sometimes she wobbled, and she rode without a great deal of confidence, but she did ride. Giggling, she peddled up to Aaron and stopped. Patton laughed.
"Mister Patton gave me lessons," she said. "Can we ride in the city now? He said I had to wait for your permission."
"Yes, we can go riding in the city," Aaron told her. "What time is the play, and where is it?"
"Don't worry about that. Miss Bayne said she would pick up the tickets. We have hours yet before the first show. Until then you're mine. You promised."
During the next few hours, she led him into areas of the city he never would have found on his own. They traveled for several miles, ate breaded sausages on sticks, and then raced pine cones down a small stream. When Autumn lost a race she pelted him with wet weeds. Aaron deliberately missed her in return.
Everywhere they went, Aaron saw bright new runabouts. They didn't exist in great numbers, but their numbers were growing. Many were ridden by children. Business wise, he supposed this was a good thing, but the city's pace seemed just a bit less sedate than before. A person had to keep an eye out and be careful or he was likely to be struck by some youngster owning more energy than sense.
Patton eventually drew his attention to the time so they rode to the Palace Theater where Missy waited with tickets in hand for everyone, including herself.
The play was the first Autumn had ever seen. She absolutely loved it. When it was over she hung on Aaron's arm as they left the theater, chatting happily into his ear. She tossed comments to Patton and Missy, but received few return answers since the exiting crowds often separated the group.
By the time they reached the spot where they had parked their runabouts, the crowd had thinned. Autumn released a cry of dismay when she saw the runabouts were gone.
Aaron wondered if he had become the first person in the history of this world to have a runabout stolen. He somehow doubted it. Maybe he should consider serial numbers or lockable chains.
Shrugging it off, he paid a girl to run him down a cab. This chore, which should have taken a couple minutes, extended for better than half an hour. Aaron was surprised by the wait, though not greatly so. Of late, he hadn't seen many cabs. He figured winter weather was setting in so fewer people traveled.
The cab, an eight-seater pulled by a team of two unmatched chestnuts, eventually arrived.
"About time," Autumn complained. "Daddy, you need to do something about getting better transportation in this city."
"Hush," Missy admonished. "Sometimes these things happen."
"Where to?" The cabdriver was a broad-shouldered woman with wind coarsened features.
"Billowby Manor," Aaron told her. "Sixteen Bakerfield."
The driver leaned forward to get a better look at him. "Would that be the place owned by the fellow who runs Turner Fabrication?
"I own it. Yes."
The driver nodded. "Been by there a few times. Got yourself a really big place. Can't take you."
She clucked to her team. The cab wheels groaned in protest, and the cab pulled away.
Aaron stared, unbelieving. Cabbies didn't turn away paying fares. Most faced a constant struggle just to pay the rent on their rigs, especially after the weather turned cold.
"Tell me, little miss," Patton asked Autumn,"do you think you can stand an hour's walk?
Affronted, Autumn tossed her hair and tried to kick him in his shin. "Mama runs a cattle ranch. I kept up with her well enough."
They traveled for twenty minutes before the last of the crowd disappeared. Another fifteen minutes saw the beginning of dusk settling in. By then Autumn breathed heavily, and her face had a light coat of sweat, but she refused to ask for a slower pace.
A few minutes later, they came across an empty cab. Aaron paid to have the group transported to Billowby Manor. The cab was small, forcing Autumn to sit on Aaron's lap. Missy, wedged between Aaron and Patton, made pointed comments about the girth of certain men.
When the cab dropped them off at the manor, Aaron rang the bell. Mistress Willow promptly answered, a surprise to everybody involved and a relief to Aaron. At present, he had no key and did not wish to transfer across since he didn't think Kit had told Autumn about his Talent Stone.
Zisst greeted them at the manor's front door. Grinning, Autumn picked the animal up and carried it to her room. Aaron smiled when they left, glad the two of them got along. Leaving the others behind, he went to his personal rooms, cleaned himself up, collected a bottle of wine, and transferred to Amanda's apartment in N'Ark. His note remained where he had left it, undisturbed. Amanda had not been back. He searched her apartment, but found no clue as to where she might have gone.
Well, so much for those plans. At least he still had the wine.
After spending a few minutes thumbing through her personal library, Aaron found an unopened book on the newest scientific craze, phrenology. Uncorking the wine, he drank straight out of the bottle before opening the book and reading on how a person's personality was determined by the bumps on her skull.
Three-fourths of a bottle later, he threw the book across the room. His head felt clear enough for travel, but Aaron figured one more half glass would put him over. He didn't want to stay here for the rest of the night. Not alone anyway.
Flicker
Chapter 9
When Aaron next entered the inn's common room, Major Fitzbeth had been losing big at poker. She only had a small bit of money left, as did the wind coarsened woman sitting directly across from her. The others at the table were the two men Aaron had played cards with on the previous evening.
"Mister Turner. " The major twisted in her chair to greet him. "I wondered where you were. Our ship finished loading early this morning. The captain plans on leaving tomorrow after breakfast. " She gestured toward the large woman across from her. "This is Captain Hardesty. These others are Trent and Bill."
Captain Hardesty nodded briefly before throwing a handful of copper bits onto the center of the table. "I'll see and raise six."
"I know the two gentlemen," Aaron told Fitzbeth, although neither had bothered giving him a name the previous evening. "Mind if I sit in?"
"Not at all."
Aaron nodded toward the two men. "May I?"
They looked at each other and shrugged. The blonde, Trent, nodded.
"Sure," the other man said. Raising a hand, Bill flicked a lock of dark hair from his eyes, a gesture Aaron had noticed the day before. It was one of his tells, but if it was real or feigned Aaron didn't yet know.
Aaron pulled a chair over from another table and set it in the space between the major and Trent. When he smiled benignly at the gambler, he got a half grimace in return. The captain cursed as the pot was pulled in by the second man.
"I don't know who invented this game," she growled,"but if I ever find out I'll break her legs."
Aaron reminded himself he had not invented poker. He had only introduced it to this world.
The woman who had played the flute for Aaron the night before brought him an ale.
"On me," she said as she moved to stand behind him. She leaned on his chair's back.
/>
Within three hands Aaron knew the cards were crooked again. Two of those hands were simultaneously too good to be believed but too poor to win. Coincidentally, both hands had been dealt by his partners of the previous night.
Okay, time to shift cards.
The trick was harder this time. Before, Aaron had only randomized cards. This time he tried to exchange entire hands from one player to another, and he had to make the switch before either player had a chance to look at their hands. The challenge was hard, and he didn't always succeed, but he was adept enough to throw a wrench into the works.
Aaron continued to lose, but he lost very slowly. Fitzbeth and Hardesty began winning big. The two gamblers lost their shirts.
The flute player set another drink by Aaron and then stood beside him, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. She watched them play a dozen hands before leaving to wait on another table.
The two professionals showed signs of stress. When one dealt, the other usually bet big, drew one to three cards, and cast a look of disgust at his partner. Within two hours, they were both down ten sovereigns.
For her part, Fitzbeth was having a grand time. Her bets were no longer measured in coppers. Instead, she bet quarter golds and sometimes half sovereigns. She was more than seventy sovereigns ahead when she quit for the night. Thirty minutes later, the captain did the same.
At that point, Aaron was down just over one sovereign. Trent and Bill both claimed to be down over sixty. They studied Aaron speculatively.
"We lost quite a bit," Bill commented.
Aaron shrugged. "I'm done for now."
"You have sixteen sovereigns on the table," Trent, noted. "Bill and I both have more. What do you say we cut the deck for sixteen, high card gets all?"
Bill fidgeted in his seat and brushed at his hair again, a sign of feigned uncertainty. "I've lost quite a bit already. The wives will kill me if I lose more."
"What poor women married you?" The flute player stood once again behind Aaron's chair. "Admit it. You're just losing your nerve. This is the first time in two months I've seen either of you lose."
Leaning over Aaron, she whispered loudly. "These two are professional cheats. I doubt they dealt a dozen honest hands all night."
"Fewer than that," Aaron informed her,"but I took steps. " He grinned at the two gamblers. "How about it? Still want to cut the cards? I'll let either of you shuffle. You can even continue cheating if you want. I won't complain since I've been cheating you right back all night. " He pushed his sixteen sovereigns into the middle of the table.
Bill glared. "Hands above the table."
"New deck," Trent insisted.
"Fine. Tell you what. I'll put these sixteen and another twelve against whatever you two have left."
They shoved their money into the pot. Aaron casually added his pile after putting in twelve more from his pocket.
A new deck was brought. The cards were spread out so everyone could see it was complete. Aaron transferred a couple cards out of the deck and into his pocket when the cards were gathered up again. When Trent shuffled, the cards flowed through his hands like water.
Finished shuffling, Trent slammed the cards down on the center of the table and gestured toward the flute player. "You cut for him."
She reached forward to run her hand along the deck. "I feel a couple crimps in here."
"No matter," Aaron answered her.
She cut the deck and showed Aaron the bottom card. The six of hearts.
"Sorry."
Aaron smiled. "No problem. "
Bill reached out and cut the cards. He grunted in disgust when the three of spades showed. "What the hell did you do?" he demanded of his partner.
"I'll do better," his partner assured him as the flute player left to take care of a customer.
Trent cut the deck, and he was right. He did do better. He had the five of diamonds. A nice touch, Aaron thought. He could have given them both twos if he had wanted, but it would not have been sporting.
Aaron drew in the money and rose from his chair. "Thank you, gentlemen."
Neither made a sound when he headed for the stairs. Stopping outside the door to his room, he looked both ways to make sure he remained unobserved.
Flicker
The chair was still under the doorknob, and the key still hung from its hook when he appeared in his room. Good, nobody had tried to sneak in while he was away.
A knock sounded moments after he pulled the chair away.
"This isn't what you think," the flute player said as soon as he opened the door. "I want you to teach me how to do what you did."
"It's a trade secret."
"I'm willing to pay. I'll even pledge a percentage of my take to you."
Aaron smiled. "You play the flute very well. Good night. " He closed the door and stood in thought. After a while, he put the chair back under the knob and transferred to his rooms in Billowby Manor.
He had all the clothes he needed, but he would be on a ship for several weeks before seeing land again. Once the ship started moving, he was stuck with no transferring off. He could not get back on if he did. When he tried to transfer back he would either go nowhere, or he would wind up swimming in the ocean because he had appeared where the ship had been, not where it was.
Which meant whatever he took with him was all he would have. He needed to pack for practicality, entertainment, and protection.
He packed one bag with books and a Velcro chess set he'd originally brought over from Jefferson. Next he pulled out the Model Twelve pump shotgun. Touching the steel weapon was always a minor thrill. Even with only his duel Talent, handling iron in any form always sent a brief burst of energy running through him. Were he a multi-talented Talent Master and the weapons the proper formula of iron alloy, with the Talent Stone he wore his talents would increase immeasurably. Unfortunately, the sensation and energy disappeared the first few moments after they connected, and his abilities improved only slightly.
He decided to also take a forty caliber automatic. One hundred rounds of forty caliber were not overly heavy, but the loads for the shotgun were a burden. Even so, Aaron packed a case of number six shotgun shells. Ships were often followed by birds, and birds could be eaten. The sailors on his last trip had been grateful for the meat.
He also brought along fifty slugs and another fifty rounds of double ought because the ship might land at an island for fresh water. If it did, he could go hunting. Hunting game wasn't something he had attempted before, but the pretense would provide an excuse for a pleasant walk in the woods alone--at which point he could transfer back to the manor and get a bath because islands tended to stay in one place.
An hour later, packing finished, he decided to deal with Patton. It was cruel to bring him to Jutland and then leave him hanging.
Aaron found Harvest Patton and Missy working out in the gym. Close in age, speed, and agility, Missy was almost Patton's equal on the mat. He watched them spar for ten minutes before they stopped.
"I thought you left. " Patton's voice sounded guarded.
"Not yet. " Aaron answered. "I came to give you a choice. You can come with me and be bored to death because I'll be on a ship in the middle of an ocean, or you can stay here and guard Autumn. We know the main danger facing me is from some angry bankers here in Galesward. I'll be safe from them while aboard ship, but Autumn won't be."
Patton nodded stiffly. "Yeah, well, I've been thinking on that, too. From the way you worded your choices, I know which way you want me to jump. " He stepped off the mat, leaving Missy on it alone. "I'll stay here because I agree. Autumn is in more danger than you. However," he pointed a steady finger at Aaron's face,"you have to promise you'll work out while you're gone. You need to stay alert and practice situational awareness. Be aware of other people before they are aware of you--and get your workout clothes on. I want to run you through your paces one last time."
"It's after midnight. " Aaron's eyes burned with fatigue, and he was not entirely sober af
ter his evening in the inn. The last thing he wanted was to have a match with Patton when the man was in a sadistic mood.
"If you hurry up, we'll finish in a couple hours."
As it turned out, Patton didn't spar with him. Missy did, and Aaron hated it. During the entire session, Missy barely pulled her punches, didn't go easy on her nerve holds, and took advantage of her superior agility and skill due to better conditioning and ongoing learning.
For his part, Aaron hesitated to hit a woman and could not complete a hold no matter how hard he tried. Worse, he became embarrassed whenever his hands connected with something that might be considered an intimate body part, especially after Missy began sweating, making her top form fitting. Normally, he would not have a problem with looking--but damn, this was Missy. Admiring her felt just plain wrong.
Patton looked disgusted. "Two-thirds of all assassins are women," he said during a break. "More than three-quarters of all soldiers are women. Women start and finish more fights than men. Women commit two-thirds of all senseless murders. By the Lord and the Lady, when are you going to start defending yourself?"
"She's distracting," Aaron complained. Missy's wet shirt revealed several facts he shouldn't be noticing.
Missy snorted. "I'll take care of this. Go away, Mister Patton."
Patton left. Standing still, Missy rested her gaze on Aaron until he felt like fidgeting.
"I have a favor to ask," Aaron finally said, breaking the long silence.
"Ask away."
"I made a mistake when I left the last time. I never assigned anyone to take care of Zisst. Could you see to his needs? You only have to give him food once a day and water two or three times a week."
Missy shook her head. "Autumn and Julia have already seen to that. Zisst is sleeping with Autumn now. Julia gets him tomorrow."
"Oh. " Aaron thought the matter over. On one hand he was relieved Zisst had somebody to care for him. On the other hand, a small part of Aaron felt apprehensive, fearing the animal might transfer its affections to the girls. After all, Aaron would be gone a long time.