Infernal Machines

by Jacobs, John Hornor

  ‘So, Tamberlaine will know soon, if not already. And he’ll have his generals blooding themselves into Quotidians before afternoon,’ I said.

  ‘That’s the shape of it,’ Tenebrae said. ‘He is a busy man, though, and I understand he’s entertaining some Bedoun mathematicians and emissaries, so it is possible he could defer meeting with your father.’ He bit his lower lip. ‘Unless your father is forceful.’

  ‘That will depend on how he feels this morning. Hopefully he drank himself into insensibility last night,’ I said. ‘Nevertheless. We must be away from here, shortly. We cannot risk being identified.’

  I spurred my horse onward.

  Rezzo had no walls, no gates to impede the flow of traffic and deliveries. Trains huffed into the great yards where twenty locomotives could stand abreast so men could de-crate their goods – casks of pork, grain, gravel, lime, wood, and the raw stuff of Ruman creation. Nearby, the port bustled with seagulls wheeling overhead in the dreary sky, calling over the piers. For an instant, I remembered the marvel of the little lóng dragons that held court on the arteries of air above Jiang City and the wharf Bund. Sun Huáng’s wise and pained face. Min, his arrogant but beautiful daughter. So far away. So long ago, now.

  The ferry-house was a simple affair; it cost a copper sestertius to cross and two for each horse. We paid the ferryman and he bade us wait for the next arrival. We stood on the pier, away from the other waiting passengers, their mules and horses, their wagons and carriages. There was a great commotion across the river from us, where many lascars and what appeared to be legionnaires gathered around a sleek black ship that was currently up on trucks but appeared to be being lowered into the Tever.

  ‘That’s an evil little craft,’ Tenebrae said as it entered the dun-coloured water of the Tever. ‘Two shrouded swivels, but a fifth of the size of the Malphas.’

  A trickle of black smoke emanated from the ship’s stack that was placed, curiously, near its aft.

  ‘And daemon-driven,’ I said.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, and fell silent.

  I stood for a long while, watching the ship and the lascars and the stevedores loading things onto it. Our ferry came and we led the horses on. The thick, low-slung ferry-boat itself was daemon-driven, engine room nestled right behind the pilot’s roost. Wagons trundled on, and horses nickered at the boat’s shifting below them. Lascars came around and placed chocks under wagon and carriage wheels, and in a moment we were on our way.

  The ferry thrummed, shivering, and moved into the currents of the Tever. The shipyards grew larger in our sights. The black, wicked little ship we observed came clearer – it was only the size of a locomotive itself, and had a deck, albeit a small one, and portholes in the side. Where there normally would be a smokestack, there was a cluster of metal rods summited by a strange, finned device. Its deck guns were shrouded in greased oilcloth and bound extremely tightly – in my experience on the Malphas I had seen these protective contraptions, but they were only in use when the seas were high and the lascars did not want to spend hours oiling guns doused in salt water. Officious men stood about, none with the deadly look of legionnaires, nor with the distracted and analytical postures of men who summon daemons. These were bean counters, administrators, and one held a clipboard as provisions were being loaded on the ship. It sat curiously low in the waters.

  ‘Well, that’s settled then,’ I said.

  ‘What’s that, sissy?’ Carnelia said.

  ‘We’re not going to Nexia.’

  ‘What?’ Carnelia asked. Lupina turned and raised an eyebrow.

  ‘That ship,’ I said, pointing. ‘We are going to steal it.’

  NINE

  I Hope He Lives A Long Life, Full Of Misery

  FISK CAME BARRELLING down the gulley toward us, guns out. The din of Hellfire ripped through the night behind him and I heard voices raised and screams in Medieran.

  I stepped between Fisk and Gynth and held up my hands. ‘Hold on, pard. Hold on.’

  Fisk ignored me, moving to the side. ‘No, I think not. Step away from the stretcher.’

  I shook my head. ‘This is Gynth. This is the one. He was being controlled by Beleth. And Beleth is near.’ I sensed, rather than saw, Gynth rising to his feet. Fisk’s gaze followed, and his guns, rising above my head. ‘Look at his chest. There was a genius loci glyph there. I cut it and he was released.’ I turned, and in dvergar, said, ‘Can you lead us now to Beleth? He is near.’

  Gynth blinked and then slowly nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes. To the cursed one I can lead you.’

  Turning, I saw Fisk’s stunned face.

  ‘He can and will but we have to go now. Beleth will have already begun to run.’

  Down the gulley, dvergar shouting and the clatter of more falling stones and Hellfire. There was hooting and screeches, mostly from dvergar throats, unless I was mistaken.

  Fisk watched Gynth for a long time, unnamed emotions fretting under the surface. He was like the Big Rill, cold and steel-blue and placid on the surface, but urgent with hidden whorls and eddies and currents underneath. But I reckon we’re all like that, to an extent.

  He looked from the stretcher to me and back again. He holstered his gun.

  I do not know what battles were won then, in the territories of Fisk’s heart. He’d had a family once and vaettir had taken that from him. But that pain was locked somewhere away, at least for now, and he nodded once at the big creature standing behind me.

  ‘All right then, Ia damn my soul to perdition,’ he said. ‘Let’s get that son of a bitch.’

  I went to where Lina was looking around, dazed. A runnel of blood traced its way down her face from under her hairline.

  ‘Come on, Lina,’ I said, raising her up. When she was standing, she pulled herself away and made a shooing gesture with her hands. ‘I can walk. And you have an appointment,’ she said.

  Gynth had this expression like a great hound waiting for his master’s lead. I made a chopping motion back toward the fire.

  ‘Let’s go,’ I said.

  ‘It was a rout,’ Fisk said as we ran back to where the fire burned by the Bitter Spring. The sandstone walls had taken on a bright, tawny colour with the rising sun and it was warmer now. ‘Those Medierans didn’t know what hit them.’

  ‘Let’s hope they did not kill all the horses,’ I said.

  Praeverta’s Vaettir looked dumbstruck by the sight of a real vaettir in their own midst. I held up my hands and hollered, ‘Do not shoot! Do not! He is gynth!’

  Gynth, for his part, was doing a passable job at not looking like he was going to kill everyone. He had his mouth shut, for a start, and all of those jagged teeth tucked away. His hands weren’t too bloody, though his chest, where both Beleth and I cut him, was. His cock, however, was still on full display.

  Praeverta whistled as she looked at him. ‘This was one of them daemon-gripped, then.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Possessed by Beleth. He is close. Did you kill all the horses, Matve?’

  The old lady snorted. ‘No, though we still might. Killing can work up a hunger.’ She did not smile when she said it.

  ‘Gynth can lead us to him, but we must go now, quickly. His connection severed, Beleth will run. He is not a man that is willing to fight when odds are turned against him.’

  ‘Inbhir,’ Praeverta called. ‘Bring them, quick.’

  Inbhir led three horses to us. All were foaming and could use watering but we had time enough for that later, I hoped. Inbhir himself mounted one, and Fisk and I took the others.

  Gynth bounded away and we followed.

  Out of the gulleys, it was hard to keep pace with Gynth. The way he moved was powerful and full of deadly grace, all at once. Like watching a mountain lion hunt. Haunches bunching and flexing, launching him into the air and then coming down on powerful quick legs – two paces – and then vaulting again into the air. Hands out, fingers splayed, arcing through the air. Strange to have him running with us, rather than around or at
us. All of my experience with stretchers out here in the Hardscrabble had been moments of terror and fear, save those with Gynth himself, and even those were frightful. Except then.

  We would have to find the vaettir some trousers, though. I think Praeverta got flustered at the sight of him.

  Gynth leapt up a rise and perched there, like some predatory bird, surveying the land. One great arm lanced out, pointing. And he was off again. We rode hard to keep up. The horses were failing, sucking wind. Foam slathered their haunches and came from under their saddle blankets. The Medieran mounts were fine creatures, noble lines and sleek bodies, but bred for speed and not endurance. The Hardscrabble requires stamina, and these foreign-born horses just did not have it. Gynth disappeared, ducking out of sight, beyond a low ridge. The horses fell into a canter. And then a walk, and no amount of prodding could make them hasten.

  There was a gunshot, and it echoed strangely, beating at the air. Sound does weird things out here, bouncing off rock and ridge, and comes back to your ears warbling and indistinct, or louder than it should be. And there’s no telling as to the whys and wherefores.

  There was yelling, then, and it was in a human voice.

  We came up the rise, and over it, slowly. Below lay a horse, grunting and struggling to rise. Its foreleg was broken. It would be screaming soon. There, near it, was Gynth. And scrabbling away from him on all fours, Beleth. He wore a suit, but it was dusty. The most pleasant thing about the man was the look of terror on his face. He would stand, tentatively, and Gynth would knock him down, smacking his head with a massive hand, sending the man sprawling.

  Up Beleth rose, and down he went, knocked into the dust. If I had had one of Wasler’s infernographs to immortalise this, to fix this in ink, I would have gladly given all my worldly possessions to have it. It would be an heirloom for my family.

  We approached, and Beleth hopped up again. Gynth feinted like he would strike again, and Beleth threw himself to the ground to avoid it.

  ‘Mister Beleth,’ I said, clucking. ‘How nice it is to see you again, and in such a marvellous state.’ Pleasure can make me wordy, and glib. It’s a failing, I know.

  ‘Can you take hold of him, er …’ Fisk said, addressing Gynth. Gynth, who at this point had only spoken dvergar to me, moved to do Fisk’s bidding.

  ‘Gynth, partner. That’s what he seems to answer to,’ I said. Fisk waved me away.

  Gynth snatched up Beleth in much the same way he had done the vanmer girl on watch, when Beleth wore him. He gave him a little shake and Beleth yelped in pain, kicking his legs.

  I dismounted, alongside Inbhir who was uncoiling some hemp rope.

  ‘Today is your lucky day, Mister Beleth,’ said Fisk. ‘All the gods of heaven and earth, old and new, would smile upon us if we killed you now. I have never relished killing a man – and I’ve killed many – but I think I would enjoy killing you.’

  Beleth said, ‘I have information. I have information that Cornelius and the Emperor will want to hear.’ He did not mess around, this shitebird of a petty man. He went right to the matter.

  ‘I’m sure you do,’ Fisk said. ‘Information you’ll use to barter for your life, such as it is. Hold him still, big one,’ Fisk said to Gynth.

  Taking the rope from Inbhir, Fisk trussed the engineer tightly, starting with his feet. He tied off one hand and cinched it to the knot between his legs and then, as if he were about to gut a hog, Fisk whipped out his longknife and cut a length of rope and gagged the engineer. ‘You’re gonna need that, I’m afraid, Mister Beleth, for what comes next.’

  Before Inbhir could react, Fisk began sawing at Beleth, who squirmed frantically in his bindings. In moments he was holding Beleth’s severed hand. His own were red with blood.

  He tossed the hand away, in the dust, for the creatures of the Hardscrabble to consume. He took off Beleth’s gag.

  ‘There you are, Mister Beleth,’ Fisk said, voice absolutely inflectionless. ‘I would hear you whine.’

  The engineer sobbed now, and cursed in a mewling, pained voice. Fisk punched him in the face, then, on a whim it seemed. Fisk removed the engineer’s belt and cinched it on the stump. He looked at it. ‘Clean work, there.’

  ‘You son of a—’ Beleth said. ‘You son of a whore.’

  ‘Small price to pay for Harbour Town. But you’ll not be doing any glyphs or wards until you’ve learned to use your other hand,’ Fisk said.

  ‘Praeverta will be furious,’ Inbhir said. ‘We need that engineer.’

  ‘I could give two shites what you or your old lady want.’ He put his boot on Beleth’s chest and pushed him down, fully flat on the ground, and spat on him. ‘This man killed everyone in Harbour Town, save a few. Men, women. Children. Children that will never grow up, now. I hope he lives a long life, full of misery.’

  Inbhir frowned and looked worried. Fisk patted Gynth on the shoulder and the vaettir took Beleth in his hands and slung him over his shoulder like a Brawley stevedore slinging a rucksack. Beleth cried out then.

  ‘I would see him miserable. And in fact,’ Fisk said, ‘I plan on seeing to it myself.’

  TEN

  Waken This Daemon And Set Him To Turning Screws

  IT WAS A simple plan.

  ‘Too simple,’ Tenebrae said, shaking his head. ‘There’s no way it will work.’

  ‘Its strength lies in its simplicity,’ I said. ‘And we are running out of time. Any moment, the garrison might mobilise and the streets flood with legionnaires searching for three women and an infant. If we do not act now, we might as well ride on to Nexia.’

  Carnelia narrowed her eyes. ‘Tell me, Shadow,’ she said, using Sun Huáng’s pet name for Tenebrae. ‘How worried is Tamberlaine, and his agents, about Harbour Town?’

  ‘After we arrived at the Ostia wharf, I did not have an audience with him. I was debriefed by his head secretary and spymaster about what happened in Kithai and on the journey back.’ Tenebrae rubbed his jaw and thought. The ferry drew nearer to the far shore and Fiscelion stirred in my arms. We had only minutes to decide our course of action. ‘After that, I came to watch your villa. But Tamberlaine’s man did tell me of the winds that are blowing now. And the security of Rume is foremost in Tamberlaine’s mind, and it is his policy to protect Rume at all costs. That policy has been disseminated throughout the legions.’

  ‘So it might work,’ Carnelia said. ‘We have guns, we have blades. And it is not that large a ship.’

  He nodded, but looked doubtful.

  ‘Fortune favours the bold,’ I said. ‘But I would not ask you to hazard yourself if you do not feel it is possible. It is audacious. It has risk.’ I looked at Fiscelion. ‘And that is where I quail. For his sake, if not my own. But there is no guarantee that we will escape should we decide to travel on to Nexia. This seems the best course.’ I thought for a long while. ‘If there is any danger, we will surrender. For Fiscelion’s sake. And our own. But until that moment—’

  ‘We shall play it to the hilt,’ Carnelia said. ‘There is no Fuqua on that ship, sissy. There are only people who would keep us from our freedom and take Fiscelion back to Father and Tamberlaine.’

  ‘I know,’ I said.

  ‘And are you ready to do what we must?’ Carnelia said. Her face was intense, and her eyes bright. Looking upon her, she was like a person I had never known, never met.

  Tenebrae nodded, lips tight.

  ‘And you, Lupina? Would you do this?’ Carnelia asked.

  Lupina approached me and lifted the blanket and peered at my son. She held out her arms and took the boy. ‘This is not my land. And it is not this child’s, though he was born to it. He should be in the West, with his father and you, under the big sky. Things that get in the way of what should be—’ She raised her shoulders and let them fall. It was a simple gesture, a blunt one. Their fate is sealed and I have no issue with that.

  ‘And so you are with us?’ I asked.

  ‘Of course. Let me hold him for a while, before you bind my wris
ts,’ Lupina said.

  After the ferry was tied off and fixed to the wharf the stevedores and pier-urchins clustered about, unlimbering planks and placing them so that the horses and wagons could disembark. Seagulls wheeled and cried in the blustery wind, and the rain softened into a cold drizzle. Bells clanged and fishwives called and cursed. The panoply of waterlife spilled over the drear banks of the Tever. We left quickly, and made our way away from the pier, stopping in an alley near the shipyards.

  Quickly, we bound Carnelia’s and Lupina’s wrists and stripped them of their cloaks. They looked appropriately bedraggled by the time the ferry, loaded again with another passel of horses and passengers, pushed back out into the waters of the Tever.

  Tenebrae brought from his coat a leather cylinder that contained his orders and the seal of his rank – Primus Praetorian. It would take some reading to discover the papers were related to our trip to Kithai, but he kept them at hand. He pinned the crossed gladii and shield badge upon his cloak, the symbol of the Emperor’s guard. He ran his fingers through his damp hair and drew himself up, gathering gravitas and authority about him like a cloak. He was a fine-looking man and impressive to behold – chiselled features, muscular build, shocking blue eyes. The very image of a Ruman officer.

  ‘All right,’ he said, and the way he said it, the infinitesimal quaver in his voice, indicated to me that he was as frightened as I was. I had never really warmed to the man – during our trip to Kithai his allegiance had been suspect, and his relationship with my brother, if not troublesome, gave cause for speculation as to his motives.

  Tenebrae. A man alienated from the possibilities of divergent realities – everything in him and about him found confirmation of his own beliefs. Until Secundus died, maybe. Now, the great rasp of the world had knocked off his certainty’s edges and angles, Secundus’ parting gift to us, to make this man doubt himself. I loved them both – the one we carried back in a cask of fine oil, and the one standing here before me – all the better for it. But with that quaver, that hint of fear and humanity, something in me loosened to him. All reservations went away, and I placed my trust in this man. My gun and my courage would have to help him see this through.