He turned to Ritsuko with an arched eyebrow. “Partner?”
“I’m concerned. Aren’t you?”
“Yeah, fair enough. After you, then, Mr. Loison.” Almost forgot the man was aboard. Don’t remember seeing him since our run-in with the raiders. They followed Saskia’s man past Nell Oliver’s security cordon and down the docks. The other groups of armed men kept them under close watch until they passed by.
“Nervous lot.” Loison seemed amused.
“Can’t say I blame them.” Mikani pointed at the buildings beyond the docks.
Parts of the city were clearly in flames, and people scurried back and forth in the streets ahead. Citizens, guards, and sailors were frantically trying to put out fires while avoiding some unseen menace off to their left, toward the Thorgrim palace.
“Bronze gods. Gunwood wasn’t kidding when he said it was worse in the north. Do you think this is related to the trouble in the city?”
Mikani nodded. “Seems likely. Steamships don’t just get bored and head off without a crew. Steamers, trains, the mirrors . . . it can’t be a coincidence. What a hell of a mess.”
“Chaos is rarely productive, Inspector. Ah, there’s our harbormaster. Mr. Pheebs!”
A bear of a man, his beard streaked with gray, came toward them. He was dressed in a faded Thorgrim uniform and seemed even grimmer than Ferro. “Mr. Loison. It’s been years. You’re doing shipments now?”
“Only exceptional ones. Say, there seems to be a spot of trouble.” Loison gestured at the running crowds.
Hells and Winter, the man has a talent for understatement.
Pheebs scowled over his shoulder. “The machines have run mad. Carriages are smashing into walls and each other, steam engines exploding in foundries and workshops. The Solstice just broke off its moorings and made a break for open water.” He gestured at the gunboat circling the sinking steamer’s debris. “Worse, there’s talk of golems disobeying orders. Half the captains want to shell the town. Best turn and sail away, Loison.”
“I’m afraid that’s not an option. I’m Inspector Mikani, this is my partner, Ritsuko. We’re here under special orders from the Council. We need to dock, we need repairs . . . and we need to speak to whoever’s in charge—”
“Don’t know who that’d be.” Pheebs offered a wry laugh. “I’m barely keeping the docks from being overrun, and I don’t know how long I can hold.” He motioned behind them, where the Skarsgard squadron was docked. “Those bastards are ready to start shooting. Their captain warned me yesterday that they’re waiting for the last of House Skarsgard’s people to arrive, then they’ll fire on any ship that looks crosswise at them. And if they start, the Magnus force will join in or try to stop them. Between the two, they’ll tear the port apart.”
“I’m finding that I enjoy travel much less than anticipated,” Ritsuko muttered.
Loison gave her what Mikani judged to be a sympathetic look, but he was too busy weighing possible solutions to respond. “It would be a slaughter.”
“No argument from me,” Pheebs said, “but what’m I to do about it? I’ve gotten as many of my people to safety as I can, sent word to the palace . . . and I’m now warning anyone stupid enough to come into port.” He gave them a pointed look.
Ritsuko put in, “We might be able to lend a hand. The city’s obviously in no state to receive travelers or to offer much shelter or information.”
“What do you have in mind, partner?”
Loison seemed interested, too, as did the dockmaster.
She continued, “It’s unlikely that we can persuade House Skarsgard of anything, but if I recall correctly, House Magnus is allied to House Aevar.”
Mikani saw where she was heading with that. “And we recently did them a service.”
She nodded. “Where are the Magnus troops quartered, sir?”
Mr. Pheebs pointed farther along the docks. “They’re holed up in the Pride, mostly, but have run off all other ships from pier eighteen.”
That was a quarter mile from their location, give or take. Not a great distance, but with the uneasy mood on the docks and so many armed men looking for trouble, Mikani didn’t expect it to be simple. With any luck, he could talk his way out of shooting anyone.
“You coming?” Mikani asked Loison.
“I might prove useful. And I do know how to avoid attracting attention,” the clerk answered.
True enough.
With a parting word of thanks for Mr. Pheebs, Mikani set out, keeping a wary eye on the troublemakers. Some of them wore House colors. Others looked like sailors who had been kicked off their ships for rabble-rousing. A man who was used to the ocean never settled down calmly on land; he’d learned that knocking heads on the docks.
They were halfway to pier eighteen when a half dozen drunkards burst out of a nearby tavern, hurling insults and bottles at someone inside. Thwarted from the trouble brewing within, they stopped and pointed at Ritsuko. Or maybe the clerk. The man’s finger jogged so bad from the liquor that it was impossible to be sure.
“Oh, dear.” Loison stopped dead in his tracks.
Well, he didn’t run. That’s something.
The sods gestured crudely as they approached. Wolf-whistling at Ritsuko, the louts made their intentions clear, despite thick northern accents that Mikani had a hard time understanding. But it was hard to mistake the meaning when a man grabbed his crotch.
He rested a hand on his pistol handle, calling out, “Gentlemen. Though I use the term loosely.” Damn it, don’t provoke them. “How about you go about your business, and I don’t toss you in the drink?”
Ah, hells. Not like they’d listen.
“How about you take the fancy man and leave the lady with us?” This one spoke intelligibly enough that Mikani got the gist, though the slurred words didn’t help. “Can’t you see it’s the end of the world?”
Mikani smiled and looked over at Ritsuko and Loison. “No, I think not. See, I’m rather fond of her.”
When the ringleader took a step forward, Mikani drew his sidearm. He was out of patience with this, and he’d just as soon shoot these louts. That wouldn’t help the general disarray, however, so for the sake of law and order, he drew deep on his remaining patience.
No more conversation. I’m saving my diplomacy, such as it is, for House Magnus. Or maybe I should let Ritsuko do the talking.
Ritsuko spoke for the first time, sounding polite. “Sir, I will absolutely stab you if you don’t step aside. I am in no mood.”
Mikani had no idea whether it was her level tone or the sincerity in her gaze, but the group mumbled and decided to seek amusement elsewhere. He aimed an admiring look at her and stepped around, picking up the pace until they reached pier eighteen. House Magnus had armed guards stationed at all points; it was impossible for anyone to slip past by land or sea.
He made straight for the older of the two sentries, reasoning that he was probably in charge of the watch. “Tell your captain that representatives of the Council need to speak to him.” When the sailor hesitated, Mikani added, “Move it, man!” He leaned in, using a tone usually reserved for recalcitrant cadets. “If he’s not here in two minutes flat, it’s your arse!”
“Do you have any proof of that?” the guard asked impassively.
With an annoyed sigh, Mikani produced the packet of papers the Council had sent regarding the mission, along with his CID credentials. The guard took his time inspecting them, then he sent his younger comrade along the pier, presumably to alert someone more important. They cooled their heels for a few minutes before being summoned past all the checkpoints.
A uniformed man led them up the gangplank to the Pride of the North, and he never said a word, not even when he knocked on the stateroom door. A curt “Come!” followed, and the guard opened the door, then resumed his post.
Silent bastard.
“They sometimes cut out their tongues,” Loison whispered, “when the guards are privy to a great deal of sensitive information, as o
ne is who watches the inner doors.”
And my father wondered why I didn’t want to serve one of the great Houses.
The clerk continued, “Good luck. I’ll wait on the dock with the guards.”
Beside him, Ritsuko rubbed her hands along her arms, visibly nervous. But she controlled it before they passed into the lavishly appointed cabin. In the center of the room stood a man of early middle years, still lean and strong, and his hair was fair enough that you couldn’t entirely tell what parts were lightened by the sun and which others were aged silver.
Looks like a mean bastard.
“Inspectors. I’m Viktor Magnus, commander of the Pride. What the hells do you want?”
CHAPTER 12
SASKIA WOKE UP WITH ACHING BONES, A BITTER CHILL that would take days to fade.
Stumbling to her table for a drink, she looked out on Northport harbor just as Loison was disembarking to secure their berth and supplies. She saw Mikani and Ritsuko with him, but they were quickly lost in the mass of bodies hurrying here and there on the docks. This was more than the usual unloading of ships, less purposeful and more panicked. There were barrels left unguarded, and on a normal day, there would be thieves and beggars taking advantage of the lapse. The lack of such larceny told her the problem must be dire.
Bronze gods, what’s going on out there?
In the distance, multiple fires burned throughout the city; plumes of smoke drifted in the afternoon breeze. But what drew her eye were the swirling shapes in the smoke and clouds above. Wind elementals circled the town like vultures on misty wings. All the bound ship sylphs were screaming, bucking at their restraints. The roiling anger of the fire elementals bombarded her, enough of them free that her senses tingled with the heat.
Something’s driven them mad . . . oh, spirits, my familiars.
Saskia focused as she dressed in a simple blue gown, eschewing all customary trinkets and vanities. Her elementals hovered nearby, confused and in disarray at their sisters’ anger. They’d served her well the last few days; they were exhausted, too, and their fear was infectious.
“Hush, my dears, it’ll be all right.” She murmured to the air around her, willing them to listen. They calmed a bit, but she could tell they were still unsettled by the madness in Northport.
And I can’t blame them.
Pulling on a gray overcoat, she left her cabin and headed for the deck. Saskia spotted the first mate as the doctor turned toward her. The large man was sweet, but his overprotective nature made it difficult sometimes. If he had his way, she would be forced back to bed with a hot posset and a warm brick for her feet.
But given the mess in Northport, there’s no time to rest.
“Mr. Ferro!” She strode toward the aft castle on unsteady feet, circumventing the physician.
“Li’l White!” Irahi tried to intercept her, turning from his inventory of supplies near the mainmast.
“Not now, Irahi. Why are we sitting here? The city’s a war zone. As soon as the others return, we need to pull back, anchor out in the bay where it’s safe.”
“You should be in bed! You can barely stand.” The doctor leaned in, as if ready to pick her up, and she stepped back, pointing a trembling finger up at him.
“I swear, Irahi Otis Hu, that I will blow you off the side of this ship if you take one more step!”
“Enough!” They both paused and turned, somewhat startled, to look at Mr. Ferro.
“Leave the captain be, or you’ll have a mutiny, Doctor. We can’t retreat. We’re barely afloat. You pushed the Gull pretty hard.” He signaled to where sailors were busy working the pumps and patching the hull. “And I’ve no idea when the shore party’s returning.”
“I saw them go ashore, but I thought Loison was simply seeing to provisions.” With a worried frown, she noted that there wasn’t a whole lot of activity in that regard. The porters weren’t moving cargo to and from the ships, which meant she had no idea where Janus and the others had gone. That’s a fine state of affairs for the captain. “What are they doing?”
Ferro shrugged. “If they told me, I wasn’t listening. I’ve a ship to look after. You don’t pay me enough to play nanny.”
She fought the urge to throttle her first mate, and Irahi cleared his throat, likely reading her mood in her expression. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
He sounds about as sure of that as I am. Hope Inspector Ritsuko can keep Janus in check. This was just the sort of situation that the Mikani she’d known—and loved—had often made worse with incautious words and actions. And we’ve already got mad elementals.
“Mr. Ferro, post a double watch. Doctor, walk with me.” She offered the big man her arm, and he discreetly helped her keep her balance so the crew wouldn’t see how spent she still was as they headed for the relative privacy of the prow.
Irahi held his tongue until they were out of easy hearing range of the men, but as soon as they ascended the stairs to the forecastle, he turned toward her with a worried expression.
“Tell me straight, Alexandra. How bad is it?”
He must be nervous. He never calls me that.
She pulled her hair back from her face, twisting it in a makeshift braid while she considered her answer. In the end, she chose the truth.
“It’s bad, Irahi.” She nodded toward Northport. “There are maybe four or five dozen elementals running amok there, near as I can tell. They’re tearing the city apart.” Then she gestured at the docks. “Between the wind crystals and steam engines of the ships, and those bound in cargo crates for the Summer Isle? There are probably several hundred more elementals all around us right now.”
Her friend was quick on the uptake. “If even a fraction of those start breaking free, they’ll raze everything in this bay. And if whatever the ones already on the rampage have is contagious, the newly freed elementals might then also go berserk.” He stopped and leaned heavily on the rail. “Bloody hell, they would level the entire city, and who knows where they’d stop?”
Saskia offered him a weary smile. “You asked.”
“You should have lied, Li’l White. That would’ve been kinder—what’s that?”
A mob was headed their way, and they looked to be in an ugly mood.
Saskia sighed. An elemental rebellion’s not enough, obviously. Bronze gods, what did we do to piss you off so completely?
“Trouble.” She jogged unsteadily toward the gangplank. Irahi followed close behind, bellowing for the crew to follow.
Nell and her men stood with the watchmen from the other ships at the entrance to the pier. The crowd of townspeople, armed with makeshift weapons, outnumbered them at least three to one. Saskia headed for the barrel-chested, impressively mustached man who had apparently taken charge of the assorted ship contingents. He had a pistol tucked in his belt but gripped a heavy staff in his thickly veined hands.
“Steady, boys. You, put that blade away or I’ll shove it up your arse. Easy now.” He tapped a shoulder here, glared at a man there.
“Bloody instigators, just adding fuel to the flames. They’ll get someone killed. Captain Nazari Lev, of the Deva’s Flight.” The mustached man smiled and bowed formally as Saskia and her men came up to them. “You’re from the Gull, yes? A fine ship.”
“Captain Alexandra Braelan—Saskia. A pleasure, Captain Lev; the Flight does credit to her captain.” She offered a smile, keeping an eye on the stirring, screaming people a few yards away. “We seem to have a wee problem on our hands. Perhaps we can finish praising each other’s ships later?”
Captain Lev guffawed and turned his attention back to the crowd. It had gotten larger, between desperate folk and troublemakers.
“There is always time for civility, Captain. But perhaps—”
The townsfolk were grumbling dangerously. One of them cried out, “Move aside, let us board! We need to get out of here, now!”
Another added, “Show some mercy! We’ve families, help us!”
“We can take them, they won’t shoot
. Press, and we can be away from here!”
The crowd surged; the sailors tensed and drew back a couple of steps. Impasse began as neither side wanted to be the first to rush or fire. Then someone screamed, startling the mob like a herd of deer, and the mass of townspeople surged forward in a press of bodies that crushed several of their own number. The guards on the pier braced, but reaching hands tugged at their arms and clubs, threatening to pull men from the crumbling safety of their line and into the angry mob. Some fled, women carrying children away from the melee, but most stayed and tried to force their way over the defenders.
Irahi burst forward, bodily slamming past the nearest sailors and into their attackers—pushing some aside, batting others into their fellows and off the docks to the cold waters below. Even he was not safe from the struggling refugees, though, and it took three men to pull him back to safety while he swung at those grabbing for him.
Nell was holding her ground, barely, rallying her men and slashing with her cutlass at anyone stupid enough to come at her. She shouted obscenities in more languages than Saskia knew; the boatswain was very angry and willing to take it out on the mob.
Saskia ducked a bottle someone hurled at them. Captain Lev swung his staff over the heads of the front line of sailors, sounding sickening “cracks” as it connected with bones and heads. He kept roaring out orders and trying to keep the men from panicking as they were nearly overrun in that first mad rush.
She could see someone behind the building fracas, screaming shrilly in encouragement. He sounded like the man that had first screamed that they should rush the sailors: he’d finally gotten his wish and now seemed determined to bring the whole thing to as bloody a conclusion as he was able.
That ragged bastard’s going to get us all killed.
He was tall and spindly in ill-fitting blue finery two decades out-of-date. She could not make out his features beyond the wild mane of dirty gray hair, but his voice carried easily enough.
“That’s it, brothers! Cut them, kill them all! Bring them down, and the ships are ours! One more rush, they’re done for!”
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