Lank twisted his knife and severed the knot at the top of her shirt. The fabric parted, revealing the smooth pale skin of her breasts. River snarled and kicked at him, driving her toe of her boot into the soft flesh between his legs. Lank let out a grunt and staggered back, clutching at his privates. The older man took a few steps back, eying her cautiously.
“Don’t let her go!” Lank wheezed as he dropped to his knees.
River threw her head back and felt a satisfying crunch as her skull drove into the constable’s nose. As his grip slackened, she stepped away, twisting out of his arms. Before he could recover, she kicked the side of his knee and sent him staggering blindly into the street.
Lank pushed to his feet and came at her with his stiletto held low, aiming to drive it through her ribs. River spun and drew her revolver in one fluid motion. She leveled the sights, pulled the trigger, and a perfect round hold appeared in the middle of Lank’s forehead. He stumbled, dropped to his knees, and landed flat on his face at her feet, dead as a doornail.
The old man turned and ran towards the other end of the alley, leaving the lantern sitting on the ground next to her. He disappeared into the shadows. As River backed toward the mouth of the alley, Constable Shepp came to his senses. He drew the back of his sleeve across his face, smearing blood across his chin.
“You dirty whore,” he snarled, drawing his nightclub. “I’m gonna tap-dance on your skull!”
River leveled her weapon and fired. It was intended as a warning shot, but she came closer than she meant. The projectile grazed the constable’s ear as it whistled by his head. It struck the brick wall behind him and ricocheted into the night. The constable let out a howl. He bent forward, cupping a hand over his ear, and dropped his nightstick with a clatter. River turned and ran.
River holstered her revolver and tugged at the laces of her shirt as she flew up the street. She paused long enough to tie a quick knot, and threw a glance over her shoulder. Constable Shepp was nowhere to be seen. Up ahead, she saw the saloon. A sign hanging over the boardwalk declared the name “The Black Gull.”
River had originally planned to go into the saloon, as it would be a likely place to find Burk. Now, she had to discard that plan. That was the first place the constable would look for her when he came to his senses. She hurried past the Black Gull, glancing through the windows at the crowd of people singing and dancing inside. Regrettably, most of the interior was blocked from her view. If Burk was in there, she’d have to catch up to him later.
As River rounded the next corner, the frozen, muddy road gave way to a long cobblestone street. She immediately sensed a change in neighborhood. This street wasn’t just paved, it was clean and lit by wrought iron gas lamps that rose up out of the sidewalk every few feet. The buildings were tall and well maintained, with unbroken windows and freshly painted bricks. The road stretched ahead at a shallow incline for several hundred yards, and then broke into a steep climb at the base of a hill. River went in that direction. She flew up the sidewalk, avoiding the light of the street lamps as she ducked into the shadows under the trees. Halfway up the hill, she paused long enough to look back and see if she had been followed.
The constable was still nowhere in sight. The street was quiet. Up ahead, at the top of the hill, a coach rolled by. Lanterns burned at each corner, and a driver in a fancy cream-colored suit held the reins. The two massive draft horses pulling the coach made it look smaller than it really was.
She heard a noise across the street, and saw light streaming through an upstairs window. The light moved deeper into the house, and River heard the sound of boots walking down stairs. Through the windows on the first floor, she saw a large man wearing a nightshirt emerge from the stairwell. He set his lantern on a table and disappeared into the back. River glanced at the sign hanging out front and moved her lips as she sounded out the word “Bakery.”
Tinker had taught River a bit of reading and writing when she was young, but there hadn’t been much call for it in her life. Books were rare and expensive, and River had always been preoccupied with other things, like building her boneshaker and planning a rebellion against the Vangars. It didn’t help matters that language was so inconsistent from one place to the next. People used the same words for the most part, but everyone spelled them differently, and in some cases, pronounced them differently as well.
In some instances, the people in one region might use a word that no one else had ever heard. Whether it was because that word had existed thousands of years ago, or had simply been made up somewhere along the way, no one could be sure. Regardless, River’s book learning had been less than extensive, and over the intervening years, she had forgotten much. Thankfully, bakery was a word that she knew, as were most of the shop signs she saw in the area like tailor, cobbler, and cooper.
River continued up the street to the top of the hill, and paused there to get her bearings. The tall row of buildings to her right blocked most of the view to the south, and the road there wound down into darkness, presumably towards the railroad depot. The road dropped steeply ahead and vanished in a maze of crisscrossing streets. Gazing out over the city in that direction, she saw the dark shapes of hundreds of buildings rising up into the sky and thousands of twinkling gas lamps sparkling like stars fallen to the earth. River noted the winding shape of a tree-shrouded river weaving its way through the city towards the harbor. There, in the distance, the silver moon hung low, casting a bulbous reflection across the choppy waves of the ocean.
River found herself wishing that Micah was there to sketch it for her, so she could keep the scene forever. Greater New Boston was beautiful beyond words: quiet, peaceful, serene. It was the antithesis of that dark, foul-smelling alley from which she had escaped. It was nothing like the cities she had known in the past.
River strode numbly forward, her quest all but forgotten in her sudden desire to see what else was out there. She hurried down the slope and found herself wandering aimlessly down one street after another. She passed inns, shops, and bakeries. Another store specialized in dresses, the likes of which River had never even imagined. She paused in front of that window to stare at a long white gown embroidered with silver vines and roses down the sleeves, and a veil of sparkling gem-like sequins cascading down over the shoulders. Her jaw dropped at the excruciating beauty of the thing, and yet… she couldn’t imagine any situation in which a person would wear such an article of clothing. It was far too delicate and fancy for anything but the most splendid occasion, and even then, one would have to be inhumanly cautious. The dress was designed not to be worn, she decided. It was simply for looking at. River moved on.
Soon, dawn cast a pink glow across the heavens. All around her, the city came to life. The smell of baking bread washed over her and the noise of carriages and steam engines filled the air. Beneath it all the gentle turmoil of birds singing in the trees and night creatures burrowing into their dens. River felt strangely alive, as if she had discovered something important, but she couldn’t be quite sure what that thing was.
She wandered on, past the tailors, ale works and laundry houses, until one store in particular caught her attention. The sound of springs and gears stopped her as River passed a tall storefront window, and she turned her head to see a collection of wind-up toys moving back and forth in the window. The clever devices had been designed to look like people and animals and even vehicles, but small enough to hold in the palm of her hand. Some reminded her of the Vangar Sentinels that had patrolled the streets of her youth.
A face appeared in the window and startled her. It was an old man, tall and thin with wild gray hair and large round spectacles. He smiled and waved for her to come inside. River acquiesced, eager to see the rest of the store.
“Welcome to Isaak’s Tinkertoys!” he said with a slight accent as she entered. “I am Isaak. Please, feel free to browse my collection of wonderful toys and devices.”
The man reminded River of Tinker, and she felt a pang in her heart when he reached
out to shake her hand, though as much as he looked like Tinker, he didn’t sound like Tinker at all. Isaak’s voice was high, clean and crisp like that of a young man on the verge of adolescence.
She raised her gaze to the ceiling, where a dragon perpetually circled the room and a train emerged high on the back wall, fifteen feet in the air. A puff of smoke went up from the locomotive’s chimney stack and a little horn wailed twice. The train circled the toy store on a set of rails that wound in and out of the walls, climbing, dropping, disappearing into tunnels and tiny forests that had been placed strategically around the room.
“Are you shopping for anything in particular?” Isaak said.
“No, I’m… I just like mechanical things.”
“Of course. As you can see, we have many of those. Also, if you are interested, I have automated star systems that replicate the night sky, or miniature steam engines, like the one on that train.”
River was only half-listening to him as she wandered deeper into the store. She passed an unusual collection of mechanical dolls that could open and close their eyes, move their arms, and even crawl. Beyond that, a large anvil rested on the floor. Next to it, a tall frame filled with brass gears. A steel chain lifted a hammer and then drove it home with a loud clang!
“That is my mechanical blacksmith,” Isaak called from the front of the store. “The price is reduced, today only!”
River was so distracted by all of the incredible little inventions, that she failed to see the most important one in the entire store until she was standing right next to it. As she turned away from the anvil, River noticed the large furry creature behind the counter and she gasped.
“Socrates!”
River leaned forward, reaching across the counter to touch the ape’s coarse fur. She lifted his arm and heard the quiet whir of gears inside. She stepped around the counter, and her stomach turned as she saw the misshapen dent on his head, and the gears protruding from his scalp.
“I’m afraid that one isn’t for sale,” Isaak said behind her. River flinched. She spun around and caught the old man by the collar.
“What did you do to him?” she shouted.
Isaak’s face went pale. “Nothing! I don’t understand. Please, just take what you want. Don’t hurt me! I have a wife and children…”
“Where did you get him?” she said, gesturing at Socrates.
“I purchased it yesterday from a traveling salesman. It’s quite a remarkable creation, isn’t it? Hard to believe that so much work went into a machine that doesn’t even work.”
River released him, and he took a step back. “What happened to him?”
“I don’t know. The salesman warned me that it was completely nonfunctional. He said it was built by a madman; a sculptor who knew nothing about engineering but made the thing look remarkably lifelike.”
“That’s because it is alive,” River said between clenched teeth. “He is alive!”
Isaak frowned. He lifted his spectacles and moved them back to the proper perch on the bridge of his nose. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, young lady.”
“No, I’m not. This creature’s name is Socrates, and he’s smarter than anyone you’ve ever met. And he doesn’t belong to you!”
“Madam, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
River grabbed Socrates by the arm and tried to pull him to his feet. “I’ll leave all right,” she said. “And I’m taking Socrates with me!”
“Stop!” Isaak shouted. He raced past her, out into the street. “Help! Police, help me. I’m being robbed!”
The gorilla’s weight shifted forward, and River almost collapsed beneath it. She turned, trying to heave Socrates’ great mass around the counter, but she lost her balance and tumbled forward, knocking over a shelf full of toys. There was a resounding crash, and Socrates tumbled to the floor. River dropped to her knees and bent forward, wrapping her arms around him, trying in vain to lift the machine’s great weight.
River could hear the shopkeeper’s pleas for help out in the street. Voices shouted. A whistle blew. Dark blue uniforms filed through the doorway and surrounded her.
“Is this her?” said a deep voice.
“Yes,” the shopkeeper said quietly. “I don’t know what came over her. I don’t understand.”
“That’s her alright!” said another voice. “She’s the one who did this to me!”
River glanced up and recognized the face of the constable she had fought during the night. He had a bandage on his ear and his nose was black and blue and swollen to twice its normal size.
“You’re sure?” said the first voice, apparently a captain.
“Yep. Seen her kill a man, I did. Killed him in cold blood, and then she came after me with that weapon of hers. Shot my ear right off!”
A heavy hand clamped down on her shoulder, and someone pulled the revolver from her holster. “On your feet,” the captain said. “You’re under arrest.”
“You heard him,” said the constable. “Get up! We have laws in this town!”
River pushed to her feet and the captain pulled her hands behind her back, locking the shackles around her wrists. She drew her gaze to Isaak, who was watching her with a perplexed, pitying look. The constable pushed her forward.
“Let’s move,” he said, guiding her around the mess and toward the front door.
Stunned by her revelations and confused by the sudden turn of events, River went quietly, without a struggle.
Chapter 20
Right after River left the train, Micah hurried to the forward end to assist Kale with the signal fire. While they were building the bonfire next to the empty chassis, he explained that River had gone after Socrates.
“I’m worried about her,” the halfling said. “River shouldn’t be out there alone.”
“She’ll be okay,” Kale reassured him as the flames licked up into the air. “River can take care of herself.”
“But who knows what kind of trouble she could run into? What if she finds Burk? That man is dangerous.”
“If River finds him, he won’t be long for his ancestors,” said Kale. “Do me a favor and alert the crew. When Rowena sees our signal, we won’t have much time to get ready.” He shot a signal flare into the sky.
Micah was getting nowhere, so he hurried to gather the others together. Not long after that, the Lady Fair slipped out of the starry heavens with the tender car in tow.
The painstaking process took quite a while. Although there was hardly a breeze on the ground, Rowena’s airship was buffeted by constant gusts. Every movement of the Lady sent the tender car swaying back and forth wildly. Even with a dozen ropes tied to it, it still took the crew several minutes to get the car back under control. This happened five times before they finally managed to set the boxcar in place.
For a moment, it seemed that they might have to raise the car again because one of the corners hadn’t settled properly. Just as Kale was about to give the signal to raise the ship, the corner of the car made a shrieking sound. It slid over the metal bracket and landed on the platform with a resounding crash that left the boxcar bouncing up and down on its springs.
“Perfect!” Kale shouted. “Bolt it down!”
He hurried around the car, disconnecting all of the ropes, and then gave Rowena the signal. They heard a deep whooshing as the ship’s burners came to life, and the Lady Fair swooped up into the darkness.
Remembering River’s instructions, Micah located the vials inside. He picked out the one River had described, and then very carefully filled it to the brim. He was extra cautious, because River had described to him in great detail the hazards of dealing with starfall. Not that he’d needed an in-depth description. He had seen the undead Ancients wandering around Blackstone Castle with his own eyes, not to mention the horrifying mutants of the Forgotten Sea.
The last thing Micah wanted to do was set off some sort of strange chemical reaction inside his body that would irreversibly turn him into something nasty. Mica
h was perfectly happy with himself just the way he was. Perhaps it would have been nice to be a bit taller, but Micah’s height had proven beneficial on many occasions. In fact, the attic over the library car where he lived was a perfect example. The space was far too low for humans, and too closed in for the claustrophobic Tal’mar, but for Micah it was perfect. That meant he had the whole place to himself, and he could sneak down into the library and help himself to whatever books he wanted, any time of the day or night.
That was a lot to sacrifice just to be a few inches taller, and frankly, Micah couldn’t see much benefit to it. Three feet was just about the perfect height, and he couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to be any different. Not that Micah was judgmental about things like that.
“What do you think you’re doing?” a strange voice shouted outside the railcar, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“Who are you?” was Kale’s response.
Micah tightened the cap down on the vial and tucked it into his vest. He crept up to the doorway, and peered through the narrow opening. Outside, a group of four uniformed men had confronted the crew. They were armed with nightsticks and wore tall black hats with narrow brims. Micah had never seen a town constable before -the closest he had ever witnessed was a sheriff in Blackstone- but it was easy enough to recognize the uniform and the attitude. Kale was trying to explain that they were reclaiming their stolen train, but the head constable would hear none of it.
“This land and everything on it is property of the city of New Boston, including the depot, the tracks, and the locomotive vehicles. You are trespassing. You have thirty seconds to clear out, or I’ll arrest every last one of you.”
Kale crossed his arms over his chest, his massive biceps bulging. “Is that a fact?”
Thane appeared behind him, and on the other side, Vann, armed with his cleavers. “Constables, arrest these vagrants!” cried the leader.
Two of the policemen stepped forward brandishing their batons. At that moment, Loren and the other Tal’mar warriors emerged from the shadows at the top of the nearby boxcars. They had their bows drawn, the sharpened stone tips of their arrows glinting in the moonlight. The constables exchanged uncertain glances and then looked to their leader.
Killing the Machine (Aboard the Great Iron Horse Book 2) Page 17