After growing restless watching the others enjoy their dinner and a few tin cups of rum, Frolic got up and wandered to Corny’s tent, which was twice the size of the others and had open sides to allow her to enhance and repair their equipment if needed. Frolic hoped she might need some help, and he knew he could talk to her. The white canvas roof glowed as he approached, giving him hope for a few hours of tinkering and respite from his concerns.
As soon as he entered the tent, Corny threw a sheet over whatever she had on the collapsible workbench. Jack Owens sat in the corner on a wooden crate. Both of them went from easy, relaxed conversation to stiffened surprise when Frolic entered.
“Hello, lovey.” Corny hurried to clasp his hands and kiss him on the cheek, even as her gaze traveled suspiciously back to the work surface.
What could she be hiding from him? Frolic had a suspicion she was working on a magic absorbing device, despite his arguments against it. He’d told her of the tragedy such a device had caused back in Halcyon, and how he and his partners had destroyed it even though it meant sacrificing the clockwork angels he thought of as his brothers. It hurt that she didn’t trust his wisdom. After all, he’d seen the consequences of such a vile machine, and she hadn’t.
“Hello, Corny. What’s that you’re working on? Do you need any help?”
She stammered. She never stuttered when talking to him, yet—“Er, nothing. That is, nothing important. Just passing the time, yeah? A side project, nothing important.”
Frolic pulled away from her grasp. “I think I understand. I just wanted to stop by and see if you’ve given any thought to our special job.” He glanced at his book sitting beneath an open toolbox on a makeshift shelf. He’d never trusted anyone but Querry, Reg, and Dink with the secret knowledge he held, and Corny used it to prop up her equipment. Offended, he hurried over, snatched it up, and clutched it to his chest.
Corny looked over at Jack as if to ask advice on how to answer. Something passed between them, and the mercenary left the tent so Frolic and Corny could be alone.
“Look, Frolic. Everything about your construction is extremely complex. I think I might be able to do it, in a proper shop with the right equipment. Out here… I just don’t know. I don’t even know if my goggles can magnify the tiny gears to the degree we’ll need. But there’s a bigger issue.”
“What?” Frolic asked. “I can see the gears without any problem. I just need some help. Why can’t we proceed?”
“The materials,” Corny answered. “Just to make the skeleton, we need a great deal of gold. From what I’ve read, it’s heavy, but it resists tarnish, which is essential. I don’t know how you’ll ever find enough gold.”
“I’ll get the gold,” Frolic said. “When I do, are you still willing to help me?”
“I promised I would.”
“Thanks,” he muttered, knowing by the way Corny glanced at the tent flap that she would rather spend her time with Jack Owens. “Good evening, then, Cornelia.”
She stumbled over some pitiful excuses, but Frolic wasn’t the fool everyone assumed. He knew when he wasn’t wanted, so he hurried away from her pavilion, back into the camp. Most everyone had gone to bed, so he made his way toward the tent he shared with Querry and Reg. When he entered, he found them drowsing on the ground in separate bedrolls. A lantern burned low on a small barrel; probably it gave just enough light for the humans to see. Querry and Reg lifted their heads and blinked at Frolic’s entrance.
“Beauty,” Querry said in a voice rough with sleep. He indicated a third pile of blankets, a few feet removed from his own. “Get some rest.”
“I don’t want rest,” Frolic said. “Do either of you want to spend some time with me? Show me you love me?”
Reg rubbed his eyes. “We love you, Frolic. We just can’t risk being as careless as we were before.”
“Not even after all this time?” Frolic asked, frustrated.
“It’s not a good idea,” Querry agreed. “Just sleep for tonight.”
“I don’t feel like it,” Frolic said, turning his back on them and leaving the tent. Outside, he waited a few minutes to see if either of them might ask him back, but they didn’t. He felt alone in a way he hadn’t experienced since his solitary decades in the doll maker’s basement. He glanced around for Tom, but couldn’t locate him either visually or through the hum of the magic the faerie trailed. Frolic just wanted to be with someone, to not be all by himself, but no one was available or willing. He stood on the outside, neither human nor fey. Reaching inside his shirt, he fondled the metal feather he wore as a necklace and remembered the beautiful, clockwork angels his father had created. Why did his mind always return to them? Had they been intended to keep him company? Surely Frolic’s father wouldn’t have left him so alone. But the angels had been destroyed, so where did that leave him? Frolic knew he was the last of his kind. Not even Querry and Reg could comprehend it. No one did.
Frolic wandered away from the orange light of the camp, deeper and deeper into the jungle. He listened to the song of the insects, night birds, and nocturnal creatures he couldn’t identify. He sensed the forest cats stalking just beyond the scope of his sight and hearing, but they posed no danger to him, as he wasn’t made of meat. The sky told him another storm waited on the horizon, and the plants expressed their desire for life-giving water. They demonstrated a lovely, symbiotic relationship Frolic couldn’t help but envy. Their language now made more sense to him than the empty words of the people he traveled with.
As he delved deeper and deeper into the jungle, Frolic began to sense other presences watching him. He saw them when he looked up into the tree branches: tiny, human-like creatures with fluid bodies and large heads. Made of shadow, they morphed easily into different forms as they followed Frolic. They moved like liquid, translucent and sparkling as they stretched and contracted to progress along the branches. Their luminous, star-bright eyes never left Frolic. Frolic felt their fascination as he watched them from the corners of his eyes, creeping along, curious to know more about him, but shy and maybe afraid. They felt Other, but not like the fey. They were much simpler and more pure—old, but without the deception and trickery the Fair Folk so adored.
Frolic stopped and closed his eyes, letting his perception reach out to the novel creatures. He felt only their desire to protect the jungle and its inhabitants. He let them know they had nothing to fear from him, and he was interested in friendship. In response, the shadow-creatures made a few eerie, hooting noises. Though not exactly a language, Frolic understood the intent behind the sounds: the unusual beings accepted him as one of their kind, a creature of magic. Slowly, they crept closer, some to the ends of the branches and others through the thick brush until they stood only a few feet from Frolic, canting their heads at odd angles and blinking their eyes.
Moving cautiously, afraid to startle the creatures, Frolic sat down on the forest floor and drew his knees up against his chest. Gradually, fascination replaced apprehension, and the magical beings drew nearer. As they passed through the stripes of shadow cast by the thick leaves above them, they melted into the darkness, disappearing until they emerged into a scrap of moonlight. Frolic could tell by their movement that they contained nothing hard or sharp, like the bones and joints humans possessed or his mechanical reproductions. They flowed like water, growing taller or squatter on a whim. Some were translucent, while others seemed more solid, but like everything about them, it morphed and changed.
Even so, they provided Frolic with companionship, and he sat with them in amiable silence for many hours before returning to the camp.
REG’S RESTLESS night had left him groggy and cranky. He’d woken probably a dozen times and reached for Querry and Frolic only to find Frolic gone. He hadn’t slept without Frolic for almost a year, and found he couldn’t relax with Frolic absent. Today, the jungle felt even hotter, the damp air that much more oppressive. An early morning rain had wet the leaf litter, and Reg sank almost to his ankles as he trudged along, mop
ping the sweat from his face and the mist from his spectacles. He felt like he could barely breathe beneath his leather armor, but after some of the creatures he’d seen stalking through the jungle, he didn’t dare take it off.
Reg stared into the shadows the thick vegetation cast, recalling the panther Jack Owens had chased off a few days ago, and its teeth, as long and thick as his finger. He remembered the strange things he heard at night, sometimes right outside the tent, and suppressed a shudder.
Up ahead, Jean-Andre took his turn dozing in the back of one of the carts with his wide-brimmed, wool hat over his face to keep the flies away. Reg couldn’t help enjoying the Belvaisian’s company. Jean-Andre possessed wit and charm, as well as knowledge of wine, music, and literature. Reg quickly looked away when he noticed Querry, near the front with their guide, glaring back at him. Truly, he couldn’t understand Querry’s deep-seated hatred of Jean-Andre.
Reg glanced around for Frolic and finally found him a dozen feet behind everyone else, staring distractedly into the trees. He hadn’t said much to either of them, or even Corny, who he seemed to like so well, all day. Reg knew he was still upset about the previous night, and he couldn’t stand to see Frolic so miserable, so he slowed his pace and waited for Frolic to catch up.
When Frolic reached him, Reg smiled and patted him on the shoulder, but Frolic hadn’t quite mastered the human art of false expression. His lower lip jutted out in a peak, and he blinked his thick, white lashes in clear confusion. Reg couldn’t help but hope Frolic never needed to learn deceit.
“Hello, Reggie,” Frolic said. “Have you seen Tom Teezle?”
“Actually no. I haven’t seen him or the baron all day. Why?”
“I want to talk to him about something.”
“What?” Reg asked, still not comfortable with Frolic and Tom’s sudden friendship. “Frolic, you need to be very careful around him.”
Frolic sighed. “I don’t want to hear this again.”
“I’m sorry, beauty,” Reg muttered. He hadn’t meant to imply Frolic was stupid. “It’s the fey I don’t trust, not you, love.”
“I just want to talk to him.”
“Will I do instead?” Reg asked, running his hand down Frolic’s back, a little surprised to find his shirt crisp and dry, even though he knew Frolic didn’t sweat.
“I’m always happy to be with you, Reg. I miss it.”
“So do I. I miss it so much, I’d actually rather not talk, if you don’t mind.”
Frolic’s eyes went wide, and a genuine smile lit his face, increasing his beauty. He seized Reg’s hand, dragged Reg a few hundred yards into the jungle, and leaned against a tree, grasping Reg by the hips and pulling their bellies together. Frolic slid his palms up Reg’s waist, chest, and neck before cupping Reg’s face and staring at him with so much lust and adoration in his eyes that it made Reg’s breath falter and color rise to his cheeks and ears. Reg folded his spectacles and slipped them into his waistcoat pocket before leaning in to Frolic’s lips.
“We don’t have long,” he said against them.
“Don’t need long,” Frolic said, his breath heating Reg’s face.
As they kissed, Reg wriggled his hand into Frolic’s trousers and ran the heel down Frolic’s length. When he reached the base, he cupped Frolic’s balls and gave them a soft tug and squeeze. Frolic moaned into Reg’s mouth and circled his hips. Reg reached behind Frolic’s compact little sac and pressed against the strip of flesh between it and Frolic’s opening. Frolic’s knees buckled, and he clung to Reg’s bracers just to stay on his feet as he shook almost violently with his climax. Reg thought the sweet little cries Frolic uttered made the risk worthwhile. He moved his hand back up Frolic’s shaft and jerked his tip with short, quick strokes, giving him a second orgasm in less than a minute.
Frolic threw his head back and yelled Reg’s name to the sky. Afraid someone from their party might hear, Reg pressed his finger across Frolic’s lips, smoothed his curls with his unoccupied hand, and whispered in his ear. “Hush, love. You have to be quiet.”
Frolic sucked Reg’s finger into his mouth and took deep, shaky breaths through his nose as he rode out the crest of his pleasure. Gradually, Frolic returned to his senses and relaxed against Reg, releasing his finger to give Reg a lingering peck at the center of his mouth. “Thank you. I know you only did this as a favor to me.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” Reg pulled away to adjust Frolic’s clothing, tucking his shirttails back into his trousers. “I love you, and I want to see you happy.”
“But what about you?” Frolic’s gaze stopped on Reg’s obvious erection. “You didn’t get anything out of it.”
“That’s not true.” Reg reached up and pinned an errant curl behind Frolic’s small ear. “I enjoy giving you pleasure, listening to the little noises you make. Touching you. Besides, I make a mess, and you don’t. Come on, now. We should catch up to the others before we’re missed.”
Looking much happier than he had before, Frolic followed Reg out of the jungle, and the two of them sprinted after the others, following the trail of coal-smoke and steam. Soon they crested a hill and looked down into a wide valley, probably miles across. The way down was steep and strewn with large, sharp rocks. The carts descended slowly, but before long, metal screeched, and a great puff of black smoke rose into the sky.
“Frolic! There you are!” Corny called, waving her hands in the air and already donning her thick goggles. “I could use a little help down here, mate.”
Frolic looked over, and Reg nodded. Frolic rose to his tiptoes and leaned over as if to kiss Reg, but then he seemed to remember he shouldn’t, frowned a little, and picked his way carefully over the loose gravel toward the others.
Reg stood at the cusp of the ravine as Corny hauled a toolbox from another vehicle, flipped the lid open, and handed Frolic a wrench. She pointed at something Reg couldn’t see beyond the people gathered around, and Frolic slid beneath the cart.
A rustling off to his left caught Reg’s attention, and he pulled his pistol, expecting some sort of predatory beast to emerge from the undergrowth. Instead, he saw Lord Starling dragging an obviously outraged Tom Teezle by the wrist. Reg quickly ducked behind a large rock as they passed in front of him. They dipped behind a tall, bushy tree covered in clusters of dark red fruit. Though Reg didn’t know what compelled him or how he found the courage, he crouched down and made his way from bush to bush until he could watch them through the dark, glossy fronds of another species of tree. He hoped he might glean something he could use against Starling to get his friends out of their agreement. He also thought he might learn something about Tom’s association with Frolic. Careful not to snap so much as a twig and practically holding his breath, he listened hard to discern their soft voices over the noise of the jungle.
Starling released Tom so roughly the faerie stumbled a few steps before regaining his balance. Tom rubbed his wrist with his teeth bared and his eyes little more than slits. Reg curled his shoulders forward and dared to sink a little lower. Fey were violent and irrational on the best of days, and Tom looked murderously angry at the moment.
The baron didn’t seem concerned. “Come now, Tom. You know this is necessary.”
“It’s an absolute insult,” the faerie snarled. “You should hope I’m never in the position to avenge it.”
Starling looked older and more tired than ever as he sighed. “I have nothing left to hope for, fey. As you well know. This expedition is all I live for now.”
“Preposterous human. Go curl up and die if you long for it so desperately. Honestly, I’ve never seen any creature work so hard at being miserable.”
“It’s no work. Misery comes to the people of this world as easily as breath. It’s our one, constant companion from the cradle to the grave. I don’t suppose it’s something your kind can understand.” Starling fished around in his jacket pocket until he withdrew something Reg couldn’t quite see. He only knew it caught and reflected the light, like a cr
ystal or perhaps a piece of polished metal.
“Not even I would wish upon you what will happen when the lord of the Palace of Tears finds out you stole from him,” Tom said in a low, threatening voice.
“Yes, yes. So you’ve said.” Starling sounded almost bored as he reached for Tom’s arm and gently pushed the sleeve up. Reg easily recognized the next item the baron produced from his coat: a small, sharp dagger.
Tom let out a high-pitched cry as Starling made a small cut across the top of his forearm. The sound of genuine pain made Reg cringe. As the fey spewed angry words in his language, Starling caught a few drops of his blood on what looked like a shard of bluish glass. When he held the jagged object above his head, it glowed with a silvery light, which increased and decreased. It shined brightest when he held it in the direction of the valley.
“As I thought,” Starling said. “We’ll have to cross the valley after all, and probably the hills beyond.”
Tom only glared, holding his arm and looking absolutely feral and deadly.
“Come, Tom. We have the information we require. Let’s see if we can assist the others and get this party moving again. There’s still a very long way to go.”
Reg couldn’t believe what he’d just seen. Against his better judgment, his heart softened for Tom Teezle. Maybe if he stole the baron’s bauble he could save Tom from further injury and bring the expedition to a halt at the same time. Unfortunately, he didn’t possess the skill to pull it off. Querry did, though. Querry could pluck it straight from Starling’s pocket while Starling stood watching. Reg wondered whether to share what he’d witnessed with his partners. It would only strengthen Frolic’s resolve to free Tom at any cost, and Frolic already acted impulsively around the fey. As for Querry, once Reg told him about the crystal, he might not be able to talk Querry out of going after it, even if it violated Querry’s contract. Querry would see it as a challenge, a chance to prove how clever he was, and then nothing would stop him. Reg decided to keep his knowledge to himself for the moment, though the silence felt deceptive, and he’d never lied to Querry or Frolic before.
A Grimoire for the Baron Page 26