by Devon Monk
As soon as everything and everyone was inside and the kitchen door had been closed behind them, Rose flew into Mae’s arms and gave her a fierce hug.
“I was so worried about you,” Rose said.
Mae hugged her back, gently rubbing her back. “I thought you were going to stay with the sisters,” she said. “And help Captain Hink repair the Tin Swift.”
Mr. Wicks moved around to stand at the opposite side of the table, keeping it between him and Wil, who paced the kitchen hungrily. Cedar knew his brother hadn’t had enough to eat, so he walked off to the kitchen’s larder to see if Kyne had any meats hanging.
A pork hock was wrapped and set on a shelf, and Cedar took it, unwrapped the cloth, and brought it out for Wil.
Wil sniffed it, then took the bone in his jaws and walked—purposely—past Mr. Wicks, eyeing him the whole time, then settled in a corner where he could watch the door and all the people in the room.
“And then I thought I’d be better off on my own,” Rose was saying to Mae. The two women were busy at the stove now, stoking the fire and heating water.
“Can I help?” Cedar asked.
“Not yet,” Mae said. “You should eat, if you have the stomach for it.”
Cedar glanced over at the man standing, not exactly nervously, more like with heightened awareness, behind the table.
“Mr. Wicks, is it?” Cedar asked.
“Thomas,” he said. “Thomas Wicks.”
“Hungry?”
“Starving.”
Cedar gestured toward the larder and Wicks accompanied him there.
“What part of this brings your involvement, Mr. Wicks?” Cedar asked.
“I found myself aboard a train with Miss Small and Captain Hink. I’m afraid I’m just a bit caught up in their wake.”
Cedar found a round of cheese and a loaf of flat bread. He pulled both out, and a handful of dried apples.
“Let’s not lean on falsehoods,” Cedar said. “You have a stake in this, or you’d have run down your own road and let us go our way.”
“You’re a perceptive man, Mr. Hunt,” he said. “Perceptive enough to know a man doesn’t reveal his secrets indiscriminately.”
“Then I’ll set my stake in this straight for you, Mr. Wicks. I am bound to the Madder brothers by a promise given. I will lay my life down for most the people in this church.” He turned so he could glare down at the slight stranger. “And if you cross me, or otherwise cause harm to these people, I will break you in two and feed you to my wolf.”
Mr. Wicks swallowed, his color going a shade paler than just a moment before. “Do I look like a man you need to threaten, Mr. Hunt?”
“You said I was a perceptive man. Has your opinion changed?”
Mr. Wicks smiled, and there was cunning, maybe even delight, in his eyes. He was impressed Cedar had seen through his bumbling greenhorn act.
“No, Mr. Hunt. It hasn’t changed a bit. Where did you school?”
Here it was Cedar’s turn to be impressed. “East.”
Wicks nodded. “Strange how our roads lead us onward, isn’t it?”
“I’ve no complaints.”
“Other than fraternizing with escaped criminals?”
“Is that what you are?”
The corner of his mouth twitched again. “No. Not exactly.”
“Then this isn’t fraternizing. Exactly.” Cedar handed him the dried apples and pushed past him out of the larder.
Cedar drew his pocketknife and shaved off a thick wedge of cheese while he walked back to the kitchen, then placed the cheese and bread on the table. The cheese was a bit sharp but surprisingly rich. To better fill his stomach, he tore off a chunk of the bread and ate that too. Then Mae was pressing a small cup of tea into his hands.
“You won’t need to drink much of this, just a swallow or two. It’s very bitter.”
Cedar sniffed it and pulled his eyebrows up. “What’s it for?”
“The binding.”
“Binding?” Mr. Wicks said. “What do you mean by that?”
Mae glanced over at the man. “I mean that I’m a witch, Mr. Wicks. And I intend to cast a spell to bind health to Father Kyne. Mr. Hunt has offered to be a part of that spell.”
Wicks’s gaze darted to Rose. Rose just shrugged. “She is telling you the truth, Thomas. It won’t change one whit whether you believe her or not.”
“I…” he began, then recovered his wits. “I’ve just never met a, uh, a woman who so willingly claims to follow such…preoccupations.”
“Have you drank it yet?” Mae asked Cedar.
He took a breath, held it, then sucked down two mouthfuls of the vile tea. He didn’t know what she’d put in it, but wouldn’t rule out boiled leather and rusted nails.
“Good. I think this will be best done near Father Kyne.”
Cedar stood. He hadn’t noticed Wil, who padded up silently next to him. If he had, he might have been fast enough to stop him from standing and placing his paws on the table. Might have even been fast enough to stop him from lapping up the remaining tea in the cup.
“No,” Cedar said.
Wil was near Cedar’s height when he was up on his back legs like this. And his eyes were those of a man, not beast. He knew very well what he was offering by drinking that tea. He was offering to help carry the burden of Father Kyne’s life.
“Wil,” Cedar said. “You should not do this.”
Wil dropped down onto all fours, looked up at Cedar, then at Mae, and walked out the door toward Father Kyne’s bedroom.
“Mae, I don’t want you binding Wil’s life to this.”
Mae pressed her lips together, her hand on the tatting shuttle she wore around her neck. She only held that shuttle when she was very uncertain or frightened. But right now she looked like she was working a complex formula in her mind, or going through an unfamiliar dance to set each step in her memory.
“It might be better,” she finally said. “No, it will be better. Two lives, two men’s strength and health will lighten the burden. And he is also bound to Wil. Yes.” Her soft brown gaze rested on him. “This is right. This is the best choice we can make.”
“Then let’s get it done.” Cedar didn’t hear anyone approaching the church yet, but it was only a matter of time. The faster they dealt with Father Kyne, the faster they could come up with a plan that included getting Mae, Miss Dupuis, and Rose out of this city.
Cedar strode off to Father Kyne’s bedroom, and found the Madders gathered there, staring down at him. Captain Hink had found a chair and was sitting in it, his head resting against the wall. He didn’t look in top shape.
The beast gave Cedar sharp senses, and in this room he could smell the deep, old blood weeping from Father Kyne’s wounds, and also the fresh blood dripping out of Captain Hink. From the sweat on Hink’s face and stink of pain, he knew the airship captain hadn’t come out of that jailbreak unscathed.
“So, Mr. Hunt,” Alun said. “We’ve returned the man to his own bed to die. A decent gesture. And now it’s time for you to fulfill your promise to us.”
“You’ll have your promise,” Cedar said. “But you’ll wait.”
“I grow tired of waiting, Mr. Hunt.” Alun turned, and so did the other two Madder brothers, as if they were all soldiers in a line.
“We are all tired of waiting,” they said with one voice.
There were times, like this right here, when Cedar questioned just what, exactly, the Madders were. They’d once told him they could talk to stone. They’d parlayed promises with him that cut deep as any metal shackle, and they seemed bent on a mission to retrieve the Holder, no matter the man, creature, or law that stood in their way.
But they did not go about their business as ordinary men might.
Cedar turned away from them. “What do you need from me?” he asked Mae.
“Just a drop of your blood,” she said. “Please, brothers Madder, if you’ll move aside, I’ll do this quickly.”
The brothers didn’
t move, didn’t exchange a single word, but then, all at the same moment, they seemed to exhale, losing that intensity they had just possessed.
“You are a man made of steel will, Mr. Hunt,” Alun said. Then, “What have you cooked up now, Mrs. Lindson? Some spell to get us our Holder, I hope.”
“No, a spell to bind strength and health to Father Kyne, Mr. Madder.”
“You think it a kindness to prolong a man’s death?”
“I think it a kindness to save his life.”
The Madders moved out of the way and Cedar stepped up by the bedside along with Wil. Cedar used his pocketknife to nick his finger, drawing a red bead there.
“And Wil,” Mae said.
Wil put his left paw on the edge of the bed and Cedar drew blood near his claw.
Mae had a white handkerchief with pretty blue and yellow flowers embroidered in the corners. She dabbed the cloth in Wil’s blood, then pressed it against Cedar’s finger.
“This won’t hurt,” she whispered to him. She stood so close all thoughts were washed from his mind, replaced with only the need to hold her, to have her.
“I know,” he whispered back.
And then Mae turned to Father Kyne.
She began humming, then singing a soft song with words Cedar did not understand. They caught at him and carried him along, and the room, the danger, the worry of the world was, for one blessed moment, lifted from his shoulders and mind.
The song was Mae, her voice, her soul, her love, and he wanted to lose himself in her forever.
Then she pressed the folded handkerchief with their blood into the wound over Father Kyne’s heart.
And all the world came back to Cedar, bringing with it pain.
28
Rose stood just inside the bedroom door. There wasn’t a lot of room in there with all the people gathered around the bed. Miss Dupuis and Mr. Wicks waited in the hall, talking softly. She even heard Miss Dupuis laugh once, a rare sound from a woman who had lost her longtime companion and lover only a few months ago.
Thomas was charming. She’d certainly fallen for his smooth manners. Rose glanced down the hall. Thomas and Miss Dupuis leaned on opposite sides of the hall, drinking tea. Miss Dupuis was a beautiful woman. Refined, poised, elegant. Somehow, even with all the wind and dirt, and running from the law, she had remained composed, not even a ruffle out of place or smudged.
Rose sighed. She’d just have to face that she’d never have that kind of grace. She was dirty, tattered, and her hair had come undone from its pins. She had other skills, though: metal and steam and cog. She didn’t worry about her abilities in that area. She had a hands-on knack for the tinkering and devising things of the world.
Those skills were just as worthy as being able to stroll comfortably though social situations or remember which fork you were supposed to stab your vegetables with. Weren’t they?
She looked back in the bedroom, and found Hink staring at her. He was sitting in the only chair, his arms crossed over his belly, his hat on his thigh, leaning back with both legs out, taking up the walking space. He looked a little pale, his hair slicked with sweat from the run he’d just taken.
He must be in pain from the bullet wound he’d gotten on the train, but he just raised one eyebrow and gave her a smile. “How do you like the horizon so far, Miss Small?” he asked. “Adventurous enough for you?”
She nodded. “Plenty, thanks. Maybe I should see to your wound.”
“Don’t worry. I’m just catching my breath.”
She took a step into the room. “You are an incorrigible liar, Captain Hink.”
“Call me Lee.”
“All right, then. You are an incorrigible liar, Lee.”
That made him smile a little more. “Aren’t I just?”
He stood and closed the distance between them. She was caught once again by the sheer mass of the man, tall enough he had to duck doorways and with shoulders wide enough to send him at a tilt through hallways, corridors, and other tight spaces.
No wonder he loved the sky. There was all the space a man of his construction could want for.
“You’re thinking about the Swift, aren’t you?” he asked as he stopped in front of her.
“I…why?”
“I can always tell.” His hand slipped down to rest on her hip, casually, as if it belonged there. She could feel the heat of his palm, even through the heavy coat and her layers beneath.
“You can? Tell what?” she asked.
“When you’re thinking about my ship. You get this dreamy look in your eyes.” He leaned in close over her. “Always makes me want to kiss you.”
“Oh?”
He placed his other hand on the wall above her head. “What about that, Miss Small?”
“Kissing?” she said a little out of breath. “I…you do remember we just broke out of jail? Men are probably headed out here to kill us right now.”
“I remember jail. All those long minutes without you beside me. Stirs up a fire in a man.”
Rose grinned. “Minutes? It only takes you minutes away from a woman for your fire to get stirred up?”
“Well, not just any woman,” he said. “You.” And then the talking was over because his lips were against hers, in a most inappropriate and public display.
By glim, she didn’t care. She had almost died today. She’d been thrown in jail. And Hink could act as relaxed as he liked; she knew there were men on the way with guns to make sure one or the other previous events were carried through. She kissed him back with abandon. If this was their adventure, their horizon, she didn’t want to live it without him. Without his passion.
She was so busy with that kiss she figured she was missing most of the spell Mae was casting.
She finally pressed her palm against Hink’s chest, telling him without words that the kiss was as far as this moment was going to go.
He pulled back, and for a quick moment she saw something more than humor and fire in his eyes. She saw pain.
“Come with me to the kitchen. I want you to take off your shirt,” she ordered.
His eyebrows hitched up. “Go on. I like where this conversation is headed.”
“I’m going to look at that hole in your side.”
“I stand corrected. There’s no time for that, Rose.”
“I don’t care. Paisley Cage, don’t make me pull rank on you.”
“You don’t outrank me.”
“I’m your boilerman, aren’t I?”
He paused for a moment. “If you still want the job,” he said hesitantly.
“Then I have the right to tell you when your ship is flying and when it’s not. Right now, we’re not going anywhere until the captain is taken care of.”
“And just like that, I’m back to liking where this conversation is headed.”
“Out,” Rose said with one last glance at Mae, Cedar, Wil, and the Madders. Mae had stopped singing and Cedar swayed a bit on his feet, groaning like a mule had just kicked him in the chest. Bryn Madder was there to steady him, and Alun nodded, as if approving of the work Mae had done, work Rose could not see with her bare eyes.
They were nothing but in the way here, and Mr. Hunt would likely be needing the chair Hink had been occupying.
She started down the hall, and Miss Dupuis looked up. “Is it done?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. It might be. I’m going to tend Captain Hink’s wounds. Are there clean cloths in the kitchen?”
“Yes, there’s a cupboard with everything you’ll need. We’ll be right in.”
We. She was already talking for Thomas now too?
Rose tried not to let it bother her. She had made up her mind about Thomas long before now. It was just that his falling in with Miss Dupuis was so sudden it stung a bit.
Although it shouldn’t. She had just spent the last few minutes kissing another man.
“Sit,” she said as she crossed the kitchen and began searching cupboards.
Hink made some noise getting settled in a
chair.
Miss Dupuis entered the kitchen next. “Can I help, Rose?”
“No,” she said a little too quickly, then, “I think I’ve got it. Do you know what we’re going to do next?”
“The Madders will have only one desire,” she said.
“The Holder?” Rose walked over to Hink. Instead of taking off his coat, he’d just unbuttoned it and tugged up the shirt beneath it to mostly reveal his side.
The makeshift bandage she’d put there from the train was soaked through with blood, not a stitch of white remaining.
This was worse than she’d thought.
She knelt and slid the kitchen blade up beneath the cloth, cutting the wrapping free as carefully as she could.
“Cold,” he noted.
“It’d be easier if you took your clothes off. Just coat and shirts, down to skin,” she clarified.
“All right, then.” He shrugged out of his coat and then shirt. Rose was close enough to see that he held his breath through it all, his jaw clenched tight. It hurt. A lot. But he refused to show his pain.
Swinging from a chain at the center of his chest was the finder compass she had given him.
“You kept it?” she asked, surprised.
“What?”
Rose touched the necklace.
“Of course I did. It’s the first gift you’ve ever given me.”
“Oh,” Miss Dupuis said, coming over to look at the wound more closely. “That does need some tending.”
“It’s a scratch,” Hink said.
Rose looked away from the tenderness in his face, and assessed the wound. No, the wounds. Somewhere in that struggle he’d gotten the worst end of a blunt instrument across his ribs. From the black bruise and tears in his skin, it was probably one of the cell-door bars. From the lumpy look of his side, he had several broken ribs.
“Miss Dupuis,” Rose said, “I think I could use your help.”
“Of course. More hot water?” she suggested.
“Yes,” Rose said. “Do you know how to make a compress? I saw comfrey on the shelf.”