Boots for the Gentleman

by Augusta Li

  Chapter Twenty-one

  THE three days Querry and the others took to make their preparations passed in the blink of an eye. Querry found little time to consider Jean-Andre’s words, and since he didn’t see the man again, he put them to the back of his mind. The temperature rose enough that the five men sat in the small room on the fourth floor with the window wide open. The evening air was warm as tears, and an aroma of fresh green and rising sap drifted on the wind. All of them perched on the edges of the beds, looking at one another. Finally, to break the tension, Querry said, “Here we are, then. Tomorrow morning this all ends, one way or the other.”

  “We’re as ready as we can possibly be,” Reg assured him. “It’s a good plan, and it’s going to work.”

  Querry nodded, smiled at him, and tried to believe his words. True, they’d done everything to make their scheme work flawlessly, but Querry knew from experience how many things could still go wrong. He looked at the four men: his beloved Reg with his reserved exterior hiding burning passion and brilliant bravery; his sweet Frolic with his innocence and enthusiasm buried beneath disorder and doubt; the faerie who played at being a gentleman but was more a force of nature; and the great magician, Kristof, who had the demeanor of the most unassuming servant. Querry loved all of them more than he ever had, and he decided then and there that he’d die before he saw them come to harm. He memorized the details of each of their faces, hands, and bodies, right down to their eyelashes and fingernails. Each of them was so perfect in his own way. He’d been lucky to know them for the time that he had.

  “Querry, what’s wrong?” Frolic asked, wiping a tear from Querry’s cheek that Querry hadn’t felt escape.

  “All of you mean so much to me,” he said. “I just wish you’d all find someplace safe, and wait until this is over.”

  “We’re in this together,” Reg said, taking Querry’s hand. Frolic took his other hand, forced a confident smile, and nodded. Kristof reached across to cup Querry’s knee. The faerie looked a little bewildered by the exchange, but he finally patted Reg icily on the shoulder.

  “We should try to get some sleep,” Kristof urged, “we have an early start, and we’re in for quite a day tomorrow.” From the way he gazed at his companion, Querry knew Kristof felt the same thing he did—that he’d like a night with his lover, just in case it was the last.

  Instead, though, Querry, Reg, and Frolic pushed two of the beds together, while Kristof and his fey lover lay face to face in the third. Reg put out the light, and Querry heard the magician and the faerie whispering in their secret language. He heard their lips meeting, their hands in each other’s hair. From their breathing, he knew neither Reg nor Frolic slept. He doubted he’d get any rest either, but all of them lay in silence, their worries and regrets left unspoken.

  At some point, Querry fell into a fitful sleep, because the next thing he perceived was a muffled knocking. He opened his eyes and took a second to recognize his surroundings. A weak, gray light seeped through the curtains. Frolic already stood dressed and armed at the foot of the bed, and Kristof sat cross-legged with his partner’s head in his lap. Querry’s left arm tingled, numbed beneath Reg’s weight. While it gave him a curious comfort, he gently pulled it from beneath the other man’s ribs and whispered, “Reggie, it’s time.” He looked a long time into Reg’s hazel eyes when they opened.

  Lizard came into the room and informed them that everyone would meet downstairs. After washing up a bit and dressing, the five men made their way to the dining room where they found almost a hundred people packed in. They parted to allow Querry and his companions to approach a large, rectangular table where Dink, the duchess, and a few more important men and women waited. Querry, Reg, Frolic, and Kristof took seats, and the faerie stood with his hands on the back of Kristof’s chair. Querry reached for the kettle and helped himself to strong tea while Dink passed him a diagram. He pointed out the various places around Thimbleroy Manor where fighters would take position on the ground, as well as the bell tower where the marksman would hide. He showed Querry where he and Kristof would set up the device they’d built to gather stray magic, and where Querry would need to place the three sticks of dynamite he’d acquired with Lizard. Dink handed Querry a canvas sack and Querry took out the wires and devices within. Though he’d done so before, Dink explained again to Querry how he’d need to set them up.

  “Does everyone understand what he needs to do?” asked Captain Saul. Everyone grumbled in assent. “We’re only going to have one chance at this.” He stood and pushed his chair in. “Riflemen, with me. We’re going to spread out our arrival times to the area so we don’t arouse any suspicion. Let’s go. The church Father is expecting us.” Six men and four women queued up behind him.

  “I guess that’s me as well,” Reg said, squeezing Querry’s knee underneath the table. He told Querry he loved him in the only acceptable way: with his eyes. Querry hoped Reg knew he felt the same, since he couldn’t say it out loud. “I’ll see you soon, Querry. Frolic.”

  There were so many things Querry wanted to say, but he only managed to croak out, “Yeah.” Then Reggie was gone, and the heavily armed men and women who’d volunteered to stay on the ground departed next. After a few more silent cups of tea, Dink stood.

  “I have the device waiting in a cart a few blocks away. We must go now while most of the city still sleeps.” Kristof reluctantly joined him. Querry felt his heart plummet another half a mile when Frolic left the table. It was all he could do not to grab his arm and stop him. It wasn’t right; they belonged together. How had he not seen it before?

  “Wait,” he said, getting to his feet. “Frolic—”

  “Querry?” He looked at the thief with his bemused smile, the one he’d always worn before they’d replaced his heart.

  Querry pulled him into his arms and squeezed him tightly, holding him for a long time despite the whispers in the room. He dug his chin into the curls on top of Frolic’s head and blinked back his tears. Then he put his palms against Frolic’s cheeks and pulled his head back so he could look into his glorious, golden eyes. “Frolic, I—” The people around them stared in dumb shock. Querry cleared his throat. “I want you to be careful, Frolic.”

  Frolic’s lips curled with a wise, world-weary smile that contrasted with the sadness in his eyes. “I understand, Querry,” he said.

  Querry hoped he did.

  Before long, Querry was alone in the room, alone in the house. He was to wait an hour in order to give everyone time to get into position. He stared down at his gloved hands, inspecting the places where the leather had worn thin above his knuckles. He open and closed his fists, remembering everything he’d done in that old pair of gloves. Outside, a single dove cooed from the branches of the dogwood tree near the window. The sound cut through Querry. He’d never felt more lost, not even when he’d been imprisoned and tortured. Again and again he told himself that splitting up had been a mistake. We belong together. Why didn’t I insist? I’m not there to protect them now. Maybe it was his new faerie sight, or maybe just nerves, but Querry had an evil feeling about their undertaking.

  Even so, people depended on him. He owed a debt, and he would pay it. He picked up the satchel and started off just as steady thunder began to rumble in the distance.

  AN UNBROKEN sheet of dark clouds held the dawn at bay as Querry looked at Thimbleroy Manor, still a block away. He’d taken his time reaching it, both to stay out of sight and to avoid jostling the explosives. He approached slowly, his every nerve acute and aware of the slightest sound or movement. Soon, he discerned that six groups of two men each patrolled the perimeter. Querry crept closer and knelt down behind a manicured hedge. A pair of guards passed only a dozen feet in front of him. About ten minutes later, another pair made their rounds, with a third following another ten minutes after that. The regular interval of their patrol made it easier for Querry, and ten minutes would be more than enough time for him to climb the ornamental iron fence and sprint across the lawn to the
elaborate gazebo that was his target. The dynamite he carried would decimate the large structure, set its remains on fire, then blast the neoclassical statuary and fountains around it to bits with minimal risk of injuring any innocent servants.

  The next pair of guards strolled leisurely through the damp grass, passing a cigarette back and forth and debating the merits of the manor’s serving girls. Querry let them get about twelve feet from where he stood before he vaulted over the fence and landed silently on the other side. Keeping low, he hurried to the gazebo. It was ten times the size of the room he’d rented, and fresh lilacs decorated the round tables within. Shaking his head at the excess, Querry planted the dynamite under a chair and tied the fuses together as Dink had instructed. To these he attached a cotton cord so that he could light the explosives from a safe distance. They’d soaked it in kerosene so the flame could travel quickly. He hid beneath a tablecloth until the next patrol passed by, and then he began to unroll the spool of cord as he backed toward the fence. He made it over well before the next round of guards entered the area and, trailing the rope behind him, he crossed the street to the cathedral.

  Querry took a deep breath. The first phase of the plan had fallen into place beautifully. Maybe he’d just been paranoid and morose before. He looked up at the bell tower. Reg and the others would be there, waiting to fire. The knowledge of their presence let him relax a bit, and he hurried around the side of the old building. He saw Dink, Frolic, Kristof, and the faerie waiting within a sprawling cemetery. An ornate mausoleum concealed a clockwork device on a wheeled platform. Querry’s eyes followed the crank to a pyramid of interlocking gears, and up to four curved, metal arms that formed a bowl-shaped enclosure. Here and there a gem sparkled among the dull steel, and odd symbols and runes were scratched into the frame. He didn’t really understand the machine; he just hoped it would work.

  “The dynamite is ready to go,” Querry informed the others, severing the end of the cord from the spool with his dagger.

  “Hurry and light it,” Kristof urged as he knelt and began to wind the crank on the device. “There’s no time to lose.”

  Querry fished in his pockets for his matches as the gears began to click and hum. A crackling, metallic-blue ball took shape between the tines of the metal arms. The faerie gentleman inhaled it like he’d been denied breath to the point of suffocation. Querry lit the end of the rope and dropped it on the ground, watching with satisfaction as a tiny flame skipped along its length. If everything went according to plan, the ensuing explosion would lure Thimbleroy away from the clock tower and the marksmen would finish him before he ever rounded the cathedral’s corner. A peel of thunder broke his concentration, and a light rain began to fall. Luckily the flammable liquid they’d used kept the fuse burning. They all watched with held breath as the fire disappeared behind one of the church’s buttressed walls.

  The rain fell harder, soaking through Querry’s armored garments and dampening his shirt. A drizzle became a downpour. The five men huddled together as it drenched them. A quarter of an hour passed and not one of them would give voice to his worry. Finally Querry said, “It should have gone off by now. It’s gone out, hasn’t it?”

  Dink nodded twice, and Frolic looked miserable. “What are we going to do now?” the young man asked, his silver curls dripping.

  “There’s nothing for it,” Querry said. “I’m going to have to go back and light it off by hand.”

  “Isn’t there another way?” Frolic asked, touching Querry’s gloved hand.

  “I’m afraid not, beauty.”

  “Once it’s lit, you must get away quickly,” Dink warned.

  “Be careful, Querrilous,” Kristof said.

  Querry smiled at him and sprinted back across the street. Instead of dealing with the fence again, he ran for the manor’s main entrance and took cover behind a jutting chimney. He crept slowly toward the grounds around back, hoping the sudden storm had driven the guards to seek shelter. Soon he saw the gazebo. A silver mist surrounded it as water droplets bounced off of the roof. Querry looked left and right and, seeing no one, dashed for the structure. He found the explosives he’d placed within and took a box of wooden matches from his coat. First one and then another fizzled and failed to light in the moist air. Querry swore to himself and grasped the finger of his glove between his teeth. A finger at a time, he tugged the wet leather off his hand. The third match lit, but Querry’s shivering quickly extinguished the flame. “Damn,” he said, striking another and willing his hand to be still. Shielding the burning match with his other hand, he touched it to the place where the three fuses converged. With a hiss and a pop they caught fire. Querry spared a few seconds to make sure it would hold, and then he turned, jumped the gazebo steps and ran hard across the lawn. He had no time to bother with stealth; Dink had been quite adamant that he wouldn’t survive the explosion.

  Slipping on the wet grass, Querry rounded the corner and pushed for the street and the cathedral across it. He’d nearly made it to the house’s front entrance when two men stepped in front of him.

  “What do you think you’re doing here?” one of them asked.

  Querry looked behind himself and made a decision. Dropping his shoulders, he pushed his way between the guards, knocking one to the ground. He feared the dynamite more than the remaining man, whose fumbling fingers struggled to load his single-shot rifle. He also knew he couldn’t retreat to the church or he’d risk leading the guard to his friends, so Querry ran back the way he’d come. He didn’t get far before a deafening boom tore open the quiet morning. It lifted Querry off of his feet and flung him forward. He landed hard on his chest, the breath knocked from his body and his ears ringing. Wood, stone, and earth showered him. Pieces of debris cut and bruised his body as he pulled himself forward with his elbows, his rattled mind desperately seeking shelter. An agonizing few minutes passed before he noticed a narrow alleyway between two stone houses. Forcing his body up, he staggered toward the blessed shadows and found himself in a little cobbled lane. Apparently the two houses’ kitchens disposed of their waste here. Querry could smell bad food even over the acrid smoke drifting up the street. A mangy dog growled to defend his garbage heap. Querry sat down on the ground, holding his ribs.

  Gradually the high-pitched whine in Querry’s head lessened enough that he could hear the aftermath of the explosion. Thimbleroy’s personal guards shouted to one another. Querry took stock of his condition and found that while his body was scraped up and sore, no major damage had been done and nothing was broken. On his hands and knees, he crawled to the corner and peered around. Most of the patrolmen ran toward the gazebo to investigate the commotion, but half a dozen more astute guards spread out to canvas the area and search for the culprit. They headed toward the alley where Querry hid, diligently checking every nook and cranny. Querry saw that a stone wall blocked the opposite end of the alley. He wouldn’t be able to escape that way, and he couldn’t risk running into the street. Aching, he didn’t want to engage the armed men. He had nowhere to go but up.

  Querry freed The Gripper from his belt and braced his back against the stone wall. He aimed for a stone ledge beneath a window on the third floor of the opposite house and fired. The barrel of the device kicked his shoulder like a mule, but the grapple held to the limestone. Querry tested the line and began climbing, using his feet to push himself up the wall as he pulled himself up the rope. The exertion exacerbated his minor injuries, but he soldiered on until he reached the sill. He released the metal claw in case he needed it again. On his left, the exposed blocks of the chimney formed a sort of staircase just wide enough for Querry’s toes. He fastened the grapple to his belt and carefully stepped onto the first of the narrow stones. He got his balance, and his fingers found places to hold between the blocks of the wall. His entire body tensed as he slowly stepped up. One tiny slip and he’d fall backward into the street. Gradually he ascended, his calves trembling from standing on his tiptoes and his fingers stiffening up. Finally he reached
the rain gutter and used it to hoist himself onto the slate roof. From there he could see what was happening in the streets below.

  Thimbleroy’s men, dozens of them, had discovered some of the duchess’s fighters hiding around the area. The rebels fought valiantly, but quicker than Querry would have thought possible, reinforcements arrived: Royal Guards, city constables, mercenaries, and the lurching, clockwork soldiers Querry and Frolic had seen in the basement. They arrived at the manor from every direction and quickly outnumbered and surrounded the resistance. Thimbleroy himself had yet to appear. Before long the bodies of the brave men and women who stood against the mad tyrant littered the street. The metal claws of the mechanized army had a predictable result on soft flesh. Bullets bounced harmlessly off the steel shells. A few models had been built so large as to be able to trample the resistance fighters beneath their huge, heavy feet. Querry knew he had to help them if he could. He looked across the alley at the other house’s roof and wondered if he could make the jump. He didn’t think too long about it before trying.