On Discord Isle (The Dawnhawk Trilogy)

by Burgess, Jonathon

  Fengel pushed his way past the others. The light ahead grew stronger until it resolved as the end of the tunnel, an opening into some great space. His crew were packed tight around something that had them swearing in surprise and panic. Fengel pushed through to see what all the fuss was about. Then he froze.

  Cumbers, Hayes, Dawkins, and Paine all stood in a semicircle at the head of the column, weapons drawn and pointed at a figure standing in the stream before them. It was a metallic armature, almost a skeleton, formed of Voornish brass. Its torso, head, and forearms were like a child’s suit of armor, covered in alien scrollwork. Two great glass eyes looked at them.

  The construct seemed agitated. “Variss goldeyn! Hara hailo!” It spread both hands out at them in a warning gesture.

  Fengel raised his voice. “Move aside, fellow. Or...whatever you are.” He made a shooing gesture with his sword. “We’re being pursued and haven’t time for your babbling.”

  The construct cocked its head. “Hara hailo! You cannot be here!”

  Shouts came from the tunnel behind them. Fengel heard Natasha’s screech of bloodlust.

  Fengel lowered his blade. Well, he thought. This is all I need. He replaced his monocle, which made the automaton looked cracked and broken. Now what do I do?

  He glanced at the worried, angry faces of the crew around him. Never let them see you stumble.

  “Cumbers,” he said. “And you two.” He pointed at the automaton. “Grab that thing.”

  The machine cocked its head as the crewmen stepped in to meet it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I’m not so sure about this anymore.”

  Lina smiled hungrily at the punter and gave Runt a caress. The scryn purred, winding over her shoulders and around her upraised arm. “Come now, sir,” she replied. “Let us take you somewhere...unimaginable.”

  The man stared at her. He was of average height and weight, with a neat brown beard, a bowler, and now an expression of utter revulsion. “No,” he said after a long moment. “I can imagine it quite clearly. I think I had better just go home.”

  Lina watched him walk away down the street. When he turned a corner, she shoved Runt back into place across her shoulders. Then she gave a sigh of relief and fell against the brick wall of the alley mouth.

  Breachtown seen from the ground was incongruous. The original Perinese colonists had done their best to bring the Kingdom with them, resulting in a city mixed out of tedious tradition and practical compromise. Dull buildings of grey brick clustered tightly, their sharp rooftops falling down into narrow alleys, while thin windows peeked out onto small yards bounded by ornate wrought-iron fences. Yet those yards sprouted lush palms and blooming vines completely at odds with their surroundings. Tropical birds flocked to the tiny baths built at regular intervals to coax them down from navigating the turbulent rigors of the Stormwall Breach.

  Lina rested in an alley between a haberdashery and a cigar shop. Across the street loomed the wide brick facade of the Breachtown Colonial Counting House, a three-story building topped with a small glass dome where all fines were paid within the colony and a portion of all the vast wealth flowing out of the Yulan was taxed. Numerous windows along the second and third floors peered down at harried locals passing by in the street below. The building was framed by an apothecary to one side and a jeweler at the other.

  She’d thought the alley a great place to gather information for tonight’s raid. Unfortunately, even with the city under occupation by the Perinese Royal Navy, most of the men she saw went out of their way to approach her in her disguise as a local prostitute.

  I’m going to kill him for that. Lina rested against the alley mouth, and vowed vengeance upon Lucian Thorne for the hundredth time today. Climbing down from the Dawnhawk and slipping into town just before dawn had been easy enough. She’d been so focused on that task that she hadn’t unpacked Lucian’s ‘disguise’ until she’d found the counting house, and her alley. Only then had she discovered that the committee-member had provided her with a revealing dress, high-heeled shoes, and fishnet stockings. He’d even included rouge and a bottle of overly strong perfume.

  It was insulting, irritating, and a dozen other things besides, but in the end Lina didn’t have anything better at hand. At least she knew she could play the part. So, swallowing her curses and taking a nap, she’d risen around midmorning to put everything on and stash her things among some old crates at the back of the alley. So far, she’d spent most of the day observing the counting house and using Runt to scare off those that thought her disguise genuine. Hopefully Lucian would send someone to retrieve her.

  Which had better be soon. The late afternoon sun hovered just above the rooftops, falling from the sky. Her reinforcements were already late, though that wasn’t surprising. The park which Lucian had specified did not appear to exist. She just hoped that her crewmates weren’t lost in some other part of the city.

  Lina stretched and stood away from the wall. Ah well. Until someone did show, she had work to do. She moved again to the alley mouth and plastered on a provocative smile. Runt, torpid after devouring a toucan earlier, went back to sleep around her shoulders. Lina was eyeing a third-story window of the counting house when she noticed someone approaching out of the corner of her eye.

  Goddess’s hairy armpits. Were all the men in this town so desperate? Lina rolled her eyes and turned to face him.

  Her smile died. The fellow was enormous. Of only average height, his girth ballooned up and out from two stubby legs, putting Lina in mind of an airship dirigible balanced on a pair of tree stumps. He wore a finely tailored Perinese suit that barely constrained his bulk, the vest and jacket on the verge of splitting with every quivering step he took. A small, pointed goatee covered his double chin, set below a thin handlebar mustache and two small, piggy eyes that peered out hungrily at the world.

  Lina swallowed. Back in her previous profession she’d called men like this a “prune,” due to how long she’d had to bathe to feel clean after working for one. But it’s not like that’s going to happen. She forced herself to smile wickedly and gave Runt a sensuous caress.

  “What’s your pleasure, sir?” she said.

  The man slowed to a stop before her like a great ship coming into harbor. He stared down at her and wheezed asthmatically.

  Lina waited for a response. An old woman walked past them, complaining loudly to her grown son about a lizard-monster that had stolen one of her chickens. Lina glanced after, curious. But still the fellow didn’t say a thing. He only stared at her.

  Lina cleared her throat. “Come now, sir. What can we do for—”

  “I’ve got a list,” he said, voice thin and high-pitched.

  It dawned on Lina that this one wasn’t going to be put off easily. Time to bring out the big guns. She gave a roll of her shoulders. Runt chirped in irritation, but obeyed the command. The scryn curled down around her waist and then tightened, pushing up on her bodice. Lina bent lower to better put herself on display.

  Everyone hated scryn. No one in Breachtown had proven any different so far. Working that into a hasty routine with Runt had served her well today. The straight-laced Perinese seemed especially put off by the repulsive allure that she presented them.

  Lina smiled coyly up at the man. “That’s good to hear, sir. I’m just eager to hear what’s on that list. But what’s your name, sir? We should get go know each other better.”

  That should do it. In her experience, most men who sought a prostitute didn’t like anyone knowing their names; it tended to get back to the wrong people.

  “Gregory,” he said, without skipping a beat.

  Lina frowned. She recovered and tried again. “Well, Gregory, Runt and I want to let you know we’ve got something special on offer.”

  “That’s good too,” he replied, pausing to lick his lips. “I’m not picky.”

  Lina had an epiphany. There wasn’t going to be anything she could do to scare this one away. Sod it, then. She had her li
mits, and she’d been out here long enough. It was time to cut her losses and run.

  Lina straightened. “Actually, I’ve got to go.”

  Gregory blinked in confusion. “What?”

  “Business is suddenly closed.” She yanked roughly at Runt’s coils. “I’ve...got a headache.” Lina pushed past him out to the curb along the street.

  “But wait,” gasped Gregory, following after her. “I thought we were—”

  “Nope,” Lina replied over her shoulder. “Sorry. Sudden headache. You know how it is.” She prodded the scryn. “Runt, I can’t breathe. Loosen up.”

  Gregory followed after. “What if I’m really quick about it?” he asked, voice worried and plaintive. “We could just go down the alley a little ways.”

  Lina shuddered. Oh Goddess. She walked out into the street. The rustle of trouser leggings rubbing together echoed behind after her. Lina quickened her pace.

  Well this is just great. Lina vowed revenge upon Lucian again for putting her in this position. Gregory wasn’t taking the hint, and wasn’t prepared to leave her alone, she could see. This could go badly. If she was lucky, she’d only caught the eye of someone merely socially inept, which seemed likely. But if she was unlucky, then Gregory could be so much worse. Memories came to the fore of her old brothel in Triskelion. The place had a bouncer for a reason.

  Lina knew she could take care of Gregory if she had to. Her knives were stashed away, but she’d learned a few tricks, and still had Runt besides. But anything she did might call a squad of Perinese Bluecoats, break her disguise, and land her in gaol. Again she cursed Lucian. What I need is a refuge. She scanned the buildings on the other side of the street and her eyes fell on the apothecary. Perfect.

  “I get these migraines,” she said over her shoulder. “I should go get some medicine for them. You’ll just have to catch me another time, love.”

  “What if I wait?” whined Gregory.

  “Alas, there’s no telling how long it’ll last.”

  “You could have a lie-down first—”

  A hansom rolled down the street at them. Lina jumped out past it, using the cab as cover to reach the apothecary. The front of the store was genteel, with an elegantly carved wooden sign hanging out over the street. She reached the curb, ran to the door, opened it, and slipped inside without a backward glance. Shutting the door, Lina leaned back against it with her hands on the doorknob so Gregory couldn’t follow.

  The knob twisted tentatively after a few moments as someone tried it from outside. Lina smiled, holding tight. After a few experimental turns, it stopped. She listened; footsteps sounded on the other side, growing fainter. Lina let out her breath and quickly glanced about her refuge.

  The apothecary was cluttered but clean. Polished hardwood spread across an open floor bounded by cabinets, shelves, and racks full of strange tinctures. Herbs warred with an almost overpowering scent of alcohol for primacy, causing Runt to sniff at the air in interest. Along the right wall was a small stone hearth. The glowing embers inside dried the air and warmed the room uncomfortably. Two windows framed the front door, tightly covered with thick draperies to prevent any outside light from entering. Along the opposite wall at the back of the shop was a doorway leading deeper within the building, hung with a similar thick curtain. Before the doorway lay a marble countertop over a long wooden cabinet attached to one wall.

  A man stood behind the counter, presumably the apothecary. There was something unsettling about him that raised the hairs on the back of Lina’s neck. He was tall and gaunt, with pale skin like dry parchment and unblinking eyes behind heavy spectacles. His hair was white and thick, shoulder length. The clothing he wore was very Perinese: a wool waistcoat, vest, and breeches, all of which should have been sweltering in the warmth of the shop and the tropical climate. He stood stock still, staring at her.

  Lina blushed. “My apologies sir, it’s ah, about to rain. Just darted in here to catch my breath, if you don’t mind.”

  The apothecary said nothing. As she watched, a fat orange tabby cat padded out from behind the counter. In its mouth was a bloody mouse, missing a hind leg and obviously dead. The cat took its prize beneath a cabinet along the left wall. Loud purring echoed out into the shop after a moment. The apothecary did not seem to notice.

  Lina frowned. She ducked out from the gaze of the man. His eyes didn’t follow her. Uh, all right. He, at least, wasn’t going to be a bother. But why am I finding the creepiest men in the colony, all of the sudden? She ignored the apothecary for the moment and peered outside through the nearest window. Past the drapery she spied Gregory, standing in front of the shop near the street with a frustrated frown. Lina swore under her breath. Couldn’t he find someone else to keep him company?

  Well, she wouldn’t be leaving quite yet, then. Lina whirled back and smiled at the apothecary. “I’ll just be looking around a bit,” she said. He did not respond.

  Adjusting Runt, Lina sauntered slowly around the shop. She eyed tinctures, ointments and potions, all neatly labeled in fine script. Some of the medicines she recognized. Back in her previous occupation, it had paid to know a good apothecary, for everything from cuts and bruises to the more embarrassing afflictions endemic to the trade.

  “Cubbins, you nasty little thing, don’t you dare kill that mouse in here!”

  The shout echoed out from behind the curtain. Lina glanced back to see it jerk aside and a woman emerge.

  She was striking. Of average height with a lean frame, the woman had a presence that seemed to fill the room. Her skin was coffee colored, somewhat like the Salomcani, but far darker; the mark of a Yulani native. She wore a grey Perinese morning dress, but accented it with gold and silver rings, ebony bracelets, and a scarlet ribbon choker around her neck. Thin lips pressed firmly beneath large green eyes, combining with her sharp features to forge a harsh, no-nonsense look. Her hair was blonde, worked into a mass of frizzy dreadlocks bound tightly at the back of her head with another ribbon, their ends bouncing as she peered about the shop.

  The woman froze as she noticed Lina. Her body language, previously irritated, shifted abruptly into something more welcoming. She smiled warmly and clasped her hands together, setting her bracelets to jingling. “Why, hello, dear,” she said in perfect, unaccented Perinese. “I didn’t hear you come in. Welcome to the Gravelin’s Apothecarium. I am Omari, assistant to Mr. Gravelin.” She gestured to the man behind the counter.

  Lina cleared her throat. “Actually, I just stepped in to get out of the rain. I’m sure it’ll pass...” her eyes were drawn again to Mr. Gravelin. She couldn’t help it. There was something about him that unnerved her. He hasn’t blinked since I walked in, I’m sure of it.

  “You needn’t be shy, young miss. Our Apothecarium prides itself on our discretion. Come closer, why don’t you, and let’s discuss your needs.”

  Morbidly fascinated by the apothecary, Lina approached the counter. “Is he all right? Because there is something really very odd—”

  “Oh don’t mind Mr. Gravelin,” said Omari. “He simply has a condition, whose details I won’t bore you with now—wait.” The woman paused as she took in Lina’s dress. Her warm demeanor vanished. “Hold on, now. You working girls know better than to show up before nightfall.”

  Lina blinked. “I’m sorry?”

  Omari glared and folded her arms. “Look, I’m happy to help out, and at barely more than cost, I hope you realize, but after nightfall. I’ve a reputation to maintain, and having a bunch of floozies and tarts cluttering up my shop scares off the more genteel folk.”

  Lina flushed. “Oh. I see. No, really, I’m not here for any of that.”

  Omari gave her a curious look. Then she pulled back, face a mask of disgust. “By the ghosts of my fathers. Are you wearing a dead scryn for a shawl?”

  Runt chose that moment to lift his head up. “Chirr?” her pet said. It eeled back and forth, mandibles spread, tongue tasting the alcohol in the air.

  “No,” said Lina, which
was technically accurate.

  The door at the front of the shop swung open. Lina winced, steeling herself for another confrontation with Gregory. Irritation at the fat man was quickly changing into anger. If I have to, I’m siccing Runt on him this time. I don’t care if it breaks my cover.

  But someone else stood in the doorway. A tall, rake-thin woman dressed in a severe black gown. Her face was pinched and her hair tightly woven into a bun, only partially hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat covered in flowers, ribbons, and lace.

  Omari smiled at the newcomer. Her demeanor shifted again to that of the pleasant shopkeep’s assistant. “Why, Madam Bumquist! So nice to see you again.” Omari glared at Lina, directing her out of the way with a tilt of the head.

  Lina stepped aside as the newcomer moved up to the counter. The woman didn’t seem to notice her.

  “Why, hello, Omari, dear,” said Madam Bumquist. Her voice seemed to linger, nasal and imperious. “I’ve just stopped in to have my prescription filled.”

  “I’ll have it up in a moment,” said Omari. “But I must mention again, good lady, that the corns will go away if you’d change your footwear—”

  Madam Bumquist raised a hand to her throat. “And risk being thought out of touch? Certainly not! These boots are the very epitome of ladies fashion at the moment.”

  Lina peered at the woman’s feet. She wore extremely high stiletto heels, balanced on the toes. They looked painful.

  Omari gave a small shrug. “Well, let me get that ready for you, then.” She turned to a shelf along the back wall and began pulling down bottles.

  Madam Bumquist looked to Mr. Gravelin. The apothecary still hadn’t moved. “Hello there, Mortimer,” she said, overloud, as if talking to a deaf man. “And how are you today?”

  “Not much improved, I’m afraid,” said Omari back over her shoulder. She placed the collection of bottles and tinctures upon the countertop and went to work sorting them.