The White City

by John Claude Bemis

  Conker stared down at the hammer resting across his knees. He had lost blood from the gunshots, but the wounds were already closed.

  “You okay, Conker?” Big Jimmie asked from behind the oars.

  Conker felt cold and empty, and not from the loss of blood. He had carefully carved the handle of the Nine Pound Hammer at the roots of the Wolf Tree. He knew every nick and scar in its iron head.…

  “This ain’t it,” he said, lifting the hammer.

  “What’s not?” Lamprey asked.

  Conker looked up, seething with anger. “This ain’t the Nine Pound Hammer!”

  THE SUN HAD JUST SET. RAY RESTED ON THE WOODED SHORELINE of Lake Michigan, peering to the north at the distant city’s gas lamps coming on one by one. “How far away is the Expo?” he asked.

  Hobnob scratched at his yellow mane. “In steps to walk or minutes to fly?”

  Ray regarded him with a cocked eyebrow. “Neither. How about in miles?”

  “En’t good with those kinds of fancy figures, you know.” Hobnob shrugged. “It’s a fair distance.”

  “You couldn’t have brought us closer?” Ray had been eager to see the city and the Columbian Expo, but Hobnob had led them to a sparsely populated section of the shore south of the city where he had arranged with the Pirate Queen for them to be picked up.

  “And rouse suspicion?” Hobnob chirped. “That Jolie wouldn’t have passed for even some foreign tourist in that dress of hers.” Before Ray could point out that Hobnob didn’t exactly blend in either, the little thief jabbed a finger. “Lookit! There’s the Snapdragon coming.”

  Ray scanned the twilight waters. The lake was a busy waterway with all manner of barges, schooners, fishing johnboats, and pleasure steamers. “Where? I don’t see it.”

  “Right there.” Hobnob pointed gleefully.

  “That yellow boat …” As Ray looked closer at the paddle-wheel steamer approaching, he realized this was unmistakably the Snapdragon, despite the odd paint disguising it. He went down to the water’s edge. “Jolie!”

  She broke from the surface several yards out, her dark hair streaming in rivulets down her face. She looked at the steamer and then swam to shore to join Ray and Hobnob. Soon a little dinghy rowed out from the Snapdragon’s stern. Ray swelled with excitement as he spied his friend at the oars beside Mister Lamprey.

  “Conker!” he shouted.

  Conker waved, and as the boat slid to the sandy bank, he leaped ashore. He threw his huge arms around Ray and lifted him from his feet. “Ain’t it something to see you again!”

  Ray gasped, “C-Conk-er.” As the giant put him down, they held each other’s arms and stared with crooked smiles. “You’ve changed, Conker.”

  “I have?” Conker said. “Not so much as you. Look at you.” He lifted a hand to level it at the top of Ray’s head. “You nearly come up to my armpits.”

  Ray tried to shove him, but Conker didn’t budge. “I’ll be taller than you one day. Just wait.”

  Conker laughed. “Reckon you will. When I’m a hunchback old man.” He embraced Jolie less aggressively than he had Ray, but with no less warmth. “You faring okay, Jolie?”

  “Yes.” She smiled.

  He took the shell knife from his belt and handed it back to her. “Thank you.”

  “Back to the boat,” Mister Lamprey said, beckoning. “There’s a happy crew who’s just dying to see you again, Ray.” He held out a hand for Jolie to help her into the boat. “I’m Lamprey,” he said with a little bow. “You must be Jolie. Heard so much about you, dearie.”

  “You too,” Jolie said, climbing into the boat.

  Lamprey gave a wink and said, “Don’t believe anything they told you.”

  As the little dinghy reached the Snapdragon’s stern, the pirates crowded together on deck, and Ray had to push his way through clasping hands and jostling bodies to reach Si, Redfeather, and Marisol. Jolie stared around at the reception with wide eyes, and Ray held tight to her hand as he introduced her to the Pirate Queen and her crew. Ray didn’t recognize Piglet, and Big Jimmie found this terribly funny. The smells of Etienne’s cooking came up from the galley, and they rushed down the gangway.

  There were so many things to tell one another; so much had happened since they had all last been together. But as Mister Lamprey brought down his button accordion and musical mayhem overtook the galley, Ray and Conker, Jolie and Marisol, Si and Redfeather found their way up on deck where the stars were out and the breeze coming off the lake was cool.

  They talked about old times, the days aboard the Ballyhoo and the medicine show and gathering herbs in the woods for Nel’s tonics. But they weren’t able to escape for long. Soon Hobnob and Big Jimmie found them, and they were dragged back to the galley, back to the music and dancing, and the evening turned into a dizzying romp.

  Ray woke in the morning with the alligator Rosie nestled against him. “Good to see you too, old girl,” he said before yawning and crawling out from the overturned pirogue on deck. Most of the crew was already at work around the steamer, waxing the deck, refitting lines, touching up the paddle wheel’s blades. Bleary-eyed, Ray followed the smell of breakfast down the gangway to the galley, where Conker, Si, Marisol, and Redfeather were eating at the long table with the Pirate Queen and Mister Lamprey.

  “Where’s Jolie?” Ray asked, sitting down to pour tea over a mound of sugar cubes in a chipped cup.

  “Said she was going to sleep in the lake,” Conker said.

  Etienne placed a plate of fried ham, steaming crescent rolls, and poached eggs before Ray. He thanked the cook profusely before attacking the plate.

  “Tell us what happened to you, Ray,” Redfeather said.

  Ray collected his thoughts as he finished off the breakfast. Pushing the plate away, he began the tale of his journey with Jolie deep into the Rocky Mountains.

  “Your father …” Conker smiled when he told him about Li’l Bill. “At last you found him. I’m glad for you and Sally, Ray.”

  Ray winced. “It’s not what I’d expected. Not what I’d hoped. He can’t even come back with us. When all of this is over …” His voice trailed uneasily.

  “When?” Conker murmured. “I ain’t sure it’s even if. With the hammer lost—”

  “What!” Ray gasped. “Where’s the hammer?”

  Conker growled. He told Ray about what had happened, the attempted recovery in the Gog’s hall. “But the hammer,” Conker concluded, anger peppering his words, “it was a fake.”

  “So where is it, then?” Ray asked.

  “Probably hidden somewhere by the Gog,” the Pirate Queen said. “It could be anywhere! We were fools to think he would have the actual weapon of John Henry in plain view.”

  “We’ll find it,” Ray assured them. “We have to. And when we do, we’ll be able to destroy the Gog’s Machine at last.” He opened his shirt to take out the toby, and from it he laid the golden spike on the table. “This is what my father forged.”

  Si sat up from her chair. “It’s as Mother Salagi described!”

  “What do you mean?” Marisol asked.

  “The seers,” Ray said. “Mother Salagi and the others. They had a vision. A weapon that must be used to destroy the Machine.”

  “They called it the ‘light to pierce the Dark,’ ” Si said.

  Conker picked up the spike. “How does it work?”

  “It must be driven into the heart of the Machine, the very core,” Ray said. “But only with the Nine Pound Hammer.”

  Conker balled his hands into fists in frustration.

  “Then what good is this spike?” the Pirate Queen muttered. “We’ll never have another chance to get into the Hall of Progress.”

  Conker said, “Even if we get the hammer back, how are we going to reach the Machine? We need Li’l Bill to help us cross—”

  “I can do it,” Ray said. All eyes were on him now, but Ray stared at Conker. “I can cross into the Gloaming. If we can just find the Nine Pound Hammer, I can lead you to
the Machine, Conker.”

  Conker rose, nodding his head. He walked around the galley until he stopped at one of the small windows and narrowed his eyes out at the lake. “Then we’ve no choice,” he said in a low voice. “One way or another, we got to get the hammer back.”

  By afternoon, Jolie had still not returned. Ray tried not to worry. It seemed only natural that after their long journey, she would need time beneath the waves. The Pirate Queen said Buck was awake, so Ray hurried down to visit with him. He and Jolie had been eager to visit Buck the night before, but the Pirate Queen had insisted they let him rest. His condition was unfortunately worsening.

  Buck lay on a bunk in the far corner of the crew’s quarters. Although Marisol had assured the pirates that his illness was not contagious, most of the crew had been sleeping on the open deck—some skeptical of her words, some because the racking cough kept them up all night.

  “Ray,” Buck said weakly as Ray reached his bunk. The old cowboy’s skin was an unnatural gray, nearly the color of the streaks in his ragged beard and hair.

  Ray sat on the bunk across from Buck’s. “How are you?”

  His pale eyes stared up at the ceiling. “Not good. I won’t lie to you.” He began coughing, doubling up on the sweat-stained sheets. Ray watched closely and felt some relief that no blood came up.

  “We’re going to find a way to stop the Machine,” Ray said. “Then you’ll be better.”

  Buck settled back onto his pillow, and Ray handed him a tin cup of water. After swallowing, Buck wheezed, “I don’t know if even that will cure me. Only the waters from a siren’s well would do it. That’s what I’m figuring.”

  Ray leaned forward eagerly. “Conker had the water Jolie carried back from that spring!”

  Buck shook his head. “He used it all. Helping heal Si.”

  “Si?”

  “Stacker shot her,” Buck said. “In the hand. Didn’t you notice? She’s lost her little finger. The tattoo, its powers … they’re gone.”

  Ray had not noticed. Why hadn’t Si told him? But there had been so much to tell, and Si was not one to indulge in self-pity.

  “Buck,” Ray began slowly. “I found my father. I found Li’l Bill.” Ray told him about his journey to the Bitterroots, and as he finished, he added, “The Wolf Tree is dying. Its survival depends on a siren’s well.” Ray paused before whispering, “There is a way for a well to be made.”

  Buck sat up. “No! You must not. Where is she? Where is Jolie?”

  “She’s in the lake.”

  Buck’s voice cracked. “You must not let her sacrifice herself, Ray.”

  “Jolie knows there is no other way. She knows that if a well is not made, then …” Ray had hardly been able to think it. The knowledge lurked in the back of his every thought when he was with her.

  Buck’s voice came from his cracked lips, low and raspy. “I must tell you something, Ray. Something I had not intended for anyone to know. Come closer.”

  Ray got up from the bunk and knelt at Buck’s side. The old cowboy reached out with a hand to take Ray’s. “It pains me to tell it. My life has been filled with so many regrets and missteps. I am not the man I wanted to be. I was never a Rambler like your father and Nel. I wanted to be good—”

  “You are good,” Ray said. “You’re one of the best men I’ve ever known.”

  Buck laughed grimly and broke into a shallow cough. “Thank you, Ray. But I don’t deserve your admiration. I’m nothing but a worthless outlaw. I’ve wanted to redeem myself, for my sins. I’ve wanted to make amends. To deserve what you so freely express.”

  “You do deserve it, Buck.”

  “I don’t,” Buck said. “Listen. I need you to know for what I’m atoning. It’s not just my brother Baldree. Not just Seth. Not just the other men who have died by my guns. I brought death to the one I loved the most, more than my brother.… Her name was Élodie.”

  Buck began coughing again and took his hands from Ray’s to cover his mouth.

  Ray sat frozen, the weight of that single name bearing down on him with a locomotive force. When Buck settled again, his wheezing returned to a shallow pattern. Ray put his hand on Buck’s shoulder.

  “You’re Jolie’s father, aren’t you?”

  Buck blinked, his lips parted with wonder. Before Buck could ask, Ray said in a whisper, “Jolie told me how her mother died.”

  “Does she know who I am?” Buck asked.

  “No,” Ray said. “How could she?”

  “Does she hate me?” Buck whispered. “Does she hate her father? For what he … for what I did?”

  “She could never hate you, Buck. You need to tell her—”

  “No!” Buck growled in his gravelly voice. “I don’t want her to know. Ray, I’m telling you because I’m not sure how much longer I will live. I intended for Jolie to learn. After I redeemed myself. I thought by giving up my guns, I thought by following a righteous path, that I might mold myself into a man worthy of being Jolie’s father. But I have only stumbled further. I did nothing when Si was shot. I didn’t prevent Stacker from taking the Nine Pound Hammer to the Gog. I have done nothing to right the ills of my own making or of the wickedness of Grevol. I fear I have lost my last chance at redemption.”

  He took Ray by the wrists firmly, pulling him closer. “Promise me, Ray. You will say nothing to Jolie or any other … at least not until I am gone.”

  “But why, Buck?”

  “Promise me!”

  Ray closed his eyes, struggling with what to say to convince Buck otherwise.

  “Ray, you are dear to me. And I know you do not agree or understand, but if you hold any affection for me … swear that you will say nothing of what I told you.”

  “I promise,” Ray said softly.

  Buck’s fingers relaxed. “Thank you. I won’t allow her to sacrifice herself to save me. There is another way I might be healed.”

  “What?”

  Buck was silent a moment, wheezing through gritted teeth. “The Hall of Progress,” he murmured. “I feel it beckoning to me. My body longs for the Darkness. It draws me back.”

  “You can’t—”

  “Go,” Buck said with a wave of his hand. “I can’t even go up on deck in my state. Let an old man find some measure of peace, if only in sleep.”

  Ray watched Buck a moment longer and walked out into the bright sunlight of the deck. Gulls laughed from the air above the lake. A dark line of clouds was rising in the west. Ray looked out at the choppy waters, drawn to little peaks of foam by the rising wind.

  By nightfall, there would be a storm.

  “I can probably get into the Hall of Progress unnoticed,” Ray said. The galley’s table was covered with Mister Lamprey’s map and scattered half-finished plates of fruit and cheese.

  “As a crow?” Conker asked.

  “I wouldn’t need to cross,” Ray said. “Crossing drains my strength. But just taking crow form, I could fly in an open door at night. It weakens me, but not as much as crossing.”

  “Even so, you could search the Gog’s hall for weeks and never find the Nine Pound Hammer,” the Pirate Queen said, running a finger along the edge of her wineglass. “What we need to look into is—”

  The door to the galley swung open. Old Joshua stepped in, his sunken mouth writhing wordlessly.

  “What is it?” Mister Lamprey asked.

  Jolie came around the old pirate, dripping puddles on the floor.

  “Where have you been?” Ray asked, standing.

  “Meu sirmoeurs!” Jolie’s eyes flashed. “My sisters, Ray! I found two of my sisters. But first, my lady, I think you should come out onto the deck. There are strange boats about.”

  The Pirate Queen followed Jolie and Old Joshua into the darkening air. Ray smelled the tang of the storm looming over the lake. No rain had fallen, but the wind was heavy with moisture. Lightning crackled over the land beyond. The Pirate Queen surveyed the lake. “The rest of you stay below. We don’t want to arouse suspicion.”r />
  Ray held back with Jolie in the gangway’s door. He watched as the Pirate Queen met Piglet on the stern. They spoke in low, urgent voices, and Ray saw the Pirate Queen tilt her head as she looked around surreptitiously.

  “My sisters and I noticed the boats following the Snapdragon,” Jolie said. “See, there and on the other side.”

  Ray looked from starboard to port. They were paddle wheelers, four of them, not unlike the Snapdragon but painted gray, and with their paddles mounted at the front like most of the pleasure cruisers. Ray would not have thought them to be any different than the myriad other boats going up and down the shore, except that these boats were only a hundred or so yards behind and traveling in a line toward them.

  The Pirate Queen headed up the stairs to the pilothouse. Ray and Jolie backed from the doorway as Piglet approached. “Belowdecks!” she ordered, and the crowd clustering in the gangway scattered. Piglet grabbed Malley by the collar as he passed by her. “Ready the cannons. We might see some action tonight. I’m sending the lubbers with you so we can have fighting hands on deck.”

  “Aye!” he grunted, and before Ray could wonder who the “lubbers” were, Malley pointed at him. “Come on, you bunch! I’ll show you how to load the smashers.”

  Ray looked around at the others, but Conker and Si were already charging past him. Redfeather shrugged. “After you,” he said to Marisol.

  “I don’t think Javidos is going to like this,” she said, guiding the copperhead up her sleeve to hide.

  Pirates raced around the lower decks, loading rifles and donning blades and holsters. Grim glee crackled on every pirate’s face except Old Joshua’s. He sank into a chair in the galley and began gumming the cheese left on the plates like it might be his last meal. Big Jimmie came past, carrying Buck to the Pirate Queen’s chambers.

  Ray grabbed Jolie’s hand. “Come on.” They headed into the crew’s quarters, where pirates had already pushed aside the bunks to clear room around the cannons. The smashers were short-barreled, squat guns mounted on sliding carriages on either side of the room. The gun ports were half latched to keep the cannons hidden.