Emissary Metal OMNIBUS 1-3

by Paton, Chris

  “What is that?” I skirted around a black shape beneath a wool blanket on the carriage floor, tucking my legs up onto the bench and away from the foul thing beneath me.

  “That,” Seffi leaned inside and tugged the corner of the blanket away from the shape beneath, “is you, as soon as we set fire to your lodgings.” I gagged at the sight of the disfigured face and gaping mouth.

  “What is that on its face?” I pointed at the pustules weeping on the dead man's stubbled cheeks.

  “A skin disease,” Seffi shrugged.

  “Is it contagious?”

  A break in the clouds lit Seffi's face with a lick of moonlight. She grinned. “I wouldn't know.” Seffi closed the carriage door and disappeared out of my sight.

  “Don't worry, Herr Finsch,” Schleiermacher's voice drifted through the carriage window. “You'll be dead before you know it.” Slapping his hand on the carriage side, Schleiermacher too, shrank from view. Alone with my pustuled corpse, I retreated into the shadow of the carriage and tried very hard not to stare at the body on the floor, for with every cobble the carriage bumped over, I could swear the body moved.

  Chapter 5

  The steamcarriage rumbled to a stop behind the university halls of residence, sighing like an exhausted firedrake as Seffi extinguished the boiler. The street was dark and empty. The rain petered out, a sheen of cold sweat upon flat surfaces. It reflected the light from the sodium crystal street lamps – far too much for my liking. Eyeing the body beneath the blanket, I waited for Seffi to open the carriage door.

  The smell of wet cobblestones brushed into the carriage interior as Seffi slipped inside, the tails of her tempest cloak smoothing flat against the bench as she sat down. Several uncomfortable minutes passed as Seffi sat, neither moving nor speaking, watching me from beneath the hood of her cloak. I flicked my eyes from the dead body between us to her face and back again. Seffi studied me, stripping me to the bone, causing me to wish, more than once, that I could trade places with the unfortunate man lying dead under the blanket.

  “What happened to your wrist?”

  “What?” Startled, I jerked my head back, unaware that I had been rubbing the wrist of my right hand, a casual habit I had fallen into when quiet and reflective. I smoothed my shirt sleeve along my arm, turning my wrist in the lamplight. “Brix happened.”

  “When?”

  “At our last encounter.” I let my wrist fall into my lap.

  “And why?”

  “Why?” I shrugged. “I failed to pay him for his services.”

  “Supplying you with lodestones?”

  “Yes. They are difficult to obtain at the best of times. But the best lodestones do come from the west coast of Denmark.”

  “He doesn't learn. Does he?” Seffi leaned back on the bench, the shadow of a smile creeping across her lips.

  “No. Brix is a brilliantly dumb Dane when it comes to business.”

  “Who is dumber? The man who acts stupidly or the man who is stupidly caught in the act?” Seffi shifted her head to catch my eye. “He broke your wrist when you didn't pay him. What do you think he will do next time?”

  “Next time? The next time was earlier this morning, and you dealt with him then.” I leaned forwards, my curiosity momentarily winning over my revulsion of the body between us. “You mentioned the wilding arts. What are they and what did you do to him?”

  “It is not important.”

  “I think it is, if you are to be my chaperone.”

  Seffi laughed. “I think you have misunderstood something, Karl. Don't you remember Herr Schleiermacher explaining to you the way it works? You are responsible to me and I am responsible for you. It is up to me to determine what you must know in order to keep you out of harm's way.”

  “Out of harm's way?” I nudged the body with the toe of my boot. “Are we not about to set fire to my lodgings?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the two Danes, Brix and Larsen, I can't imagine they are not somewhere close by.”

  “Closer than you think,” Seffi raised her eyebrows – an irritating facial expression as it highlighted her dark hazel eyes, a feature I was trying hard to dismiss as merely appealing and not the slightest bit alluring. I slumped back against the carriage wall. “I don't understand.”

  “You don't have to.” Seffi stood up. Stepping around the head of the body, she opened the door and stepped out of the carriage and onto the street. “Bring your own body, Karl.”

  “I can't move this thing by myself,” I called after Seffi as she walked away from the carriage. “He weighs more than I do.”

  “No,” she stopped and turned around. “You'll find he weighs exactly the same. Give or take a few ounces.”

  Leaning out of the carriage, I watched Seffi walk into the shadows at the rear of the halls of residence. I looked over my shoulder at the body, the man's feet tenting the blanket at the far end. For once, my economical situation was in my favour – I was too poor to eat. Rather, I rarely ate more than enough. Jumping down onto the cobblestones, I leaned into the carriage and slid my arms beneath the dead man's shoulders. Cupping my hands under the armpits, I dragged the body out of the carriage until the head slipped over the lip, swinging free into the top step with a wet thud, and what sounded like the crack of a fresh egg. Except, it wasn't fresh.

  I let go of the man and fell onto my rear on the street. The lamplight caught the glisten of something noxious smearing the wood exterior of the carriage with a wet substance. Gagging, I rolled onto my side and made a wet pool of my own.

  Staring at the limp body hanging out of the steamcarriage, I fought back another bout of retching as I realised the blanket had snagged inside the carriage. The man's face, his open mouth, the weeping pustules, the lamplight animated all his deathly features.

  “It all seemed much simpler this morning.” Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I pushed myself to my feet. I looked around for Seffi. “How on earth did she manage to move him, all by herself?”

  The click of hooves further down the street distracted me from my grisly task. I spied the convoy of coal wagons heading for Wallendorf's, delivering coal for the night shift. I imagined the men, backs bent, arms locked at right angles, gripping the corners of sacks of coal hauled on their backs. I knew what I had to do. Lifting the body, I pushed it inside the carriage, propping it up with my hands as I wormed my back around and against it. I reached over my shoulders, gripped the arms and pulled the body onto my back, gagging once more as the head slapped against my own. Tugging the body out of the carriage, I hauled it across the cobblestones, ignoring the soft scrape and bump of the heels over the uneven surface. I reached the shadows and sighed.

  “Don't put him down,” Seffi opened the door to the dark stairwell. “I have put out the lights. You can bring him up now.”

  “Up?” The weight of the body tugged at my arms, curving my back.

  “You chose to live on the top floor, Karl.”

  “Not by choice.” I could feel my arms wobbling with the strain.

  Smoothing the tails of her cloak into a sash she fashioned behind her, Seffi shook her head as she slipped past me and lifted the heels of the body. “Up,” she pushed forwards, pressing me into the stairwell and up the first of far too many steps.

  “Seffi,” I grunted as I lifted one foot at a time. “I never knew dying would be so strenuous.”

  “This from the man who leaped out of the window of his lodgings.”

  “Falling is not the same as lifting.”

  “Shh.”

  The full weight of the body threatened to wrench my arms from my sockets as Seffi let go of the heels and shrank into the darkness.

  “Seffi?” I whispered. One after the other, I shifted my feet a little, worming my toes closer to the back of the step, leaning into the stairs to improve my balance.

  “There's someone coming up, Brix.” Larsen's voice blundered down the bannister. I shifted a little closer to the wall, the stairs creaking as I mov
ed. “Shall I have a look?”

  “No,” the floorboards creaked as Brix moved across the landing above me. “Wait for them to come to us.” He paused. “They know we are here.”

  The brush of fingers on my lips and the feint smell of damp forest and moss distracted me from my burden, my jellied muscles relaxed.

  “No,” Seffi breathed in my ear, “don't drop it. Bring it up to the top floor.”

  “But...”

  Seffi's fingers pressed my lips closed.

  “Just do it.”

  She was gone then. Hidden within the folds of her tempest cloak, I caught an echo of movement as she, presumably, ascended the stairs in front of me. I knew she had reached the top when Larsen's body crashed past me, bouldering down the stairs and threatening to rip the body from my back. The big Dane woomphed onto the floor of the stairwell, wheezing as his lungs concertinaed for one last gasp of air.

  I heaved the body higher onto my back and climbed the stairs, the struggle above me muffling the creak of my ascent. As I wheezed onto the step just below the landing, Seffi blocked my path, the tails of her cloak hiding me from view. With a subtle wave of her hand she cautioned me to stop. I let the heels of the body rest on the step beneath me. Peering around Seffi's legs, I caught a glimpse of Brix nursing his left arm.

  “You have broken my arm.” Brix shuffled into the recessed doorway of the empty room opposite mine. He nodded toward the stairs. “And you've killed Larsen.”

  Seffi glanced over her shoulder, the tiny barbs of her cloak nibbling at the curled ends of her hair. “Perhaps,” she shrugged. “Does it matter?”

  “What?” Brix shrank against the door. “Does it matter? If he is dead... Yes, it matters.”

  “I thought he might have been a bit of a burden.” Seffi turned away from the stairs and took a step towards Brix. “You are the brains, are you not?”

  Brix recoiled further. “Who are you and why are you helping Finsch?”

  “Finsch is dead.” Seffi pointed at me, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. “My associate and I are bringing his body back to his lodgings.” She lowered her voice. “There is to be a fire.”

  “You are covering up Finsch's death?”

  “Yes.”

  “That is murder,” Brix' voice quavered. “Two murders in one night.”

  “Two murders in one day actually,” Seffi yawned, flapping her hand in front of her mouth. “I killed Finsch earlier today. You must remember? You were there, too.”

  “I remember. He stole something from me.”

  “Ah, the lodestones. Yes,” Seffi took a step to the bannister. She motioned for me to drag the body past her. I stared at the floor, avoiding Brix' gaze as I stumbled past him and into my lodgings. “What he stole from you, my employer will buy.” Seffi pulled a leather bag of coins from inside her cloak. “We need more, of the same quality, as soon as you can.”

  Brix winced as Seffi tossed the bag into the crook of his broken arm. “I don't know.” He picked up the bag, hefting it in the palm of his hand. “This is just enough for one.”

  Dropping the body in the middle of the floor of my lodgings, I rested against the wall as I waited for Seffi and Brix to finish negotiating. I didn't fancy the Dane's chances, but I was nevertheless impressed with his renewed vigour, the edge in his voice betraying only the tiniest of insecurities. I had a feeling it wouldn't take Seffi long to cause the man to tremble and stutter. I willed my breathing to steady, and my heart to settle, so that I might find out.

  “Really?” The soles of Seffi's shoes slipped across the floorboards of the landing. From my position against the wall, and in the gloom of the stairwell, I barely noticed her movement. The wail Seffi twisted out of Brix' body sharpened my focus, but did nothing for the beating of my heart. Pounding against my ribcage, it was all I could do to shut it out, straining to hear what Seffi was whispering into Brix' ear. “That's more than enough for two stones. You can take it and leave, or you can leave it and die.” Seffi gestured at the doorway to my lodgings with a nod of her head. “Burning three bodies instead of two won't make an ounce of difference.”

  “Two?” Brix wheezed as Seffi relaxed her grip on her arm. “I thought it was just Finsch?”

  “Well, now that you mention it.” Seffi loosened the drawstring around the leather bag and fished out two large coins. “I forgot to deduct the cost of disposing of your friend.” Seffi slipped the coins into her pocket. Releasing Brix she slid back to the bannister. “Do we have a deal, Herr Brix?”

  “Yes,” Brix stuffed the leather bag inside his jacket. Fastening it, he tucked his right wrist between the fourth and fifth buttons, cupping his elbow with his left hand as he shuffled past Seffi towards the top of the stairs.

  “Only the best lodestones, Herr Brix. A month from now, we expect to receive the first shipment.”

  “I will talk to my employer.” Brix hesitated. “You will have your lodestones.”

  “Good,” Seffi moved away from the staircase, smiling at Brix as he passed. Beckoning to me, her cheeks dimpled in the gloom as I pushed off the wall and joined her on the landing. I waited until Brix had stepped over his unfortunate associate and disappeared out of the halls of residence.

  “He didn't suspect it was me?”

  “In the beginning, perhaps,” Seffi flipped the hood from her hair, revealing those hazel eyes that, even in the gloom of the staircase, I struggled to ignore. “But after Larsen, well…” Gripping me by the shoulder, Seffi turned my body towards the top step. “Speaking of which. I think you could use a little more exercise. I will prepare the incendiaries while you fetch Herr Larsen.”

  In that moment, as Seffi slipped past me, those same hazel eyes suddenly lost their appeal. I sighed and started down the stairs.

  Chapter 6

  The people of Frankfurt commented on the fire for days afterwards. They wondered as to how it could burn so intensely and yet confine itself to such a small area – my room. It was the perfect fire, they said, the kind that could so easily spread, and yet, despite much speculation as to why and how, constrained itself to consuming just the one room, and those unfortunate souls found dead inside. My charred remains received just two sentences, whereas Larsen was given three whole paragraphs in the Frankfurt Dagblad. It seems a dead Dane was far more interesting than an impoverished student. Seffi told me that Professor Hyperion had submitted several comments on my character in the hope to appear in print, but was rebuffed by the newspaper when he revealed that he did not actually know the Dane. The university was able to clean and rent out the room within three days of my death with a new student moving in on the day following my funeral.

  It was Seffi that told me of my mother's grief. Her kind words did little to disguise the relief I imagine my mother to have felt when Seffi presented her with an anonymous gift of one hundred marks to ease her suffering. I was dead and my new life was begun.

  Bumping my head on the child-sized bunk above mine, I slipped out from beneath my blankets in the cramped quarters Seffi had found me in the bowels of the factory. What few possessions Seffi had deemed worthy of rescuing from my lodgings before the fire were arranged on the table by my bed. I picked up my washing articles and joined the queue of workers waiting to use the bathroom. Factory orientation and the creation of my new identity had taken several days, this was to be my first day working on the emissary.

  The ceiling of the cellar beneath the factory floor was only slightly lower than that of the factory itself. Following my morning wash, I ate breakfast at the third of many rows of trestle tables, marvelling at the enthusiasm at which my fellow workers consumed their breakfast and the chatter they maintained before climbing the metal staircases winding up from the cellar floor, disappearing in shifts of tens and twenty through trapdoors in the ceiling. I finished my breakfast rolls and waited for Seffi.

  The dining area hushed, the workers stilled, their heads turning as one to follow Seffi's descent as she climbed down the central staircase, brushin
g the workers on their way up to one side. It was the same each morning. Reaching for my coffee, I finished it as Seffi approached my table and sat down on the bench opposite me. She picked at my second roll, observing the workers with slow sweeps of her head from left to right.

  “Good morning, Seffi.” I tapped my empty cup on my plate and made ready to stand.

  “Sit, Karl,” Seffi tore a chunk of bread from the roll and popped it in her mouth. “We'll wait until everyone has gone.”

  The bench creaked as I lowered myself onto it. Workers clinked the base of their enamel cups on their plates as they finished their meal and slipped away from the tables around us. I smiled at the men and women close enough to catch my eye before they dipped their heads and hurried past the service trolley and clomped up the metal stairs.

  “They don't seem to like you, Seffi.”

  I watched as Seffi finished my roll, her confidence momentarily breached with what I imagined to be a hint of loneliness. I knew the feeling well.

  “Why is that?”

  “It is not your concern.” Seffi pushed my plate towards me. “Tidy up and follow me.”

  Collecting my plate and cup, I placed them on the service trolley and quickened my pace to keep up with Seffi. She climbed the stairs ahead of me, two at a time, while I struggled as if I was carrying another body, my muscles aching with the memory.

  “You will keep your name, as we agreed,” Seffi called over her shoulder. “There are enough Karls in Frankfurt for you to remain anonymous, and Wallendorf security will ensure that no one, inside or outside of the factory walls, will pay you the slightest attention.”

  “Well,” I snorted. “At least that part of my life will not change.”

  “What's that?” Seffi stopped on the stair above me.

  “My social circle was limited before my death,” I explained. “I suppose I cannot expect it to grow in the afterlife.”

  “Afterlife?” Seffi laughed. “Karl Finsch. You do not have an afterlife. You have your work, your home,” she gestured at the cavernous cellar walls, “and you have me.”