The Northern Sunrise

by Rob J. Hayes

  “He’s been with the family since before I was born,” Lavouré said by way of apology. “In truth he is part of the family.”

  Adeline strategically placed the cushions on the decking and placed the rifle next to them. Then, hiking up the skirt of her dress just a little she knelt down on the first cushion and then lay with her elbows on the next. She picked up the rifle and readied it, placing the stock against her shoulder, and looked down the barrel.

  “I can’t even see the target,” Duc Valette complained to a chorus of complaints.

  Once again everyone on the veranda fell deathly silent. Bastien found himself holding his breath as Adeline took her time over the shot.

  There was a loud bang as the rifle fired and the shot echoed around the grounds. Bastien was not the only one to let out sigh. Adeline lay still, looking down the range.

  “Did she hit?” the Marquise de Roe asked. Bastien looked over to find the women just as rapt as the men.

  “I can’t tell,” said Duc Valette.

  “Where’s that light switch, Lavouré,” asked the Marquis.

  “Um…”

  Without being asked Percy stood from his chair, made his slow way across the veranda and pressed a large yellow button hidden within a yellow flower patch. Dull lights began to flicker to life around the range and everyone peered towards the target.

  “She missed,” the Marquis de Roe exclaimed and he wasn’t wrong. The target was still in pristine condition. “I told you. The rifle is a man’s weapon. Go on, Bonvillain, show your wife how it’s done, eh?”

  A murmur of shock ran through everyone and Bastien noticed even Percy was staring down the range, his bushy eyebrows lifted high. Adeline hadn’t moved from her spot on the ground.

  “She didn’t miss,” stated the Vicomte la Fien in his cold tone. He was staring through a pair of gold-plated binoculars and as he lowered them Bastien could see the shock on his face. He handed the binoculars to the Marquis.

  “By the Ruiner,” the Marquis cursed and handed the binoculars to Duc Valette.

  “Vienne!” the Marquise chastised her husband for the curse but everyone ignored her.

  Duc Valette finished with the binoculars and handed them to Duc Lavouré. “My dear,” he said. “With an aim like that you should be winning medals at the games.”

  Duc Lavouré laughed and handed the binoculars to Bastien. Peering through them and squinting as though his life depended upon it Bastien stared at the target. It was completely unharmed. He saw a thin trail of smoke further down the range and looked instead to the two hundred yard target. Just to the left of the bull’s-eye was a small smoking hole just the right size for a rifle bullet.

  Adeline stood up carefully, her face as straight as a razor and handed the rifle back to Duc Lavouré. “That is a wonderful rifle. I can see why my husband would like one. Thank you for the loan,” she gave a polite curtsy and re-joined the women.

  “That is one hell of a woman,” the Marquis de Roe said quietly to Bastien.

  “You have no idea,” Bastien said quietly to the Marquis de Roe.

  “One hell of a shot.”

  “Indeed,” Bastien recovered a little. “I am, of course, better with a pistol.”

  “Ah yes,” the Marquis de Roe agreed. “Now a good rifle anyone can use but a pistol. A pistol is a real man’s weapon!”

  Franseza was shaking, not much but a little, now the adrenaline was wearing off. She wiped a thin sheen of sweat from her forehead and let out a sigh, easing onto her other elbow. That was without a doubt the hardest shot she had ever made.

  She gauged the distance at nearly three hundred yards in almost complete darkness and she’d had to take the shot in the echo of de Rosier’s to cover the sound. Add the strange angle at which she was positioned and the complete lack of communication between her and the moles. Franseza knew just about every sniper in the world and she could name maybe two others that could make the shot she had.

  Franseza forced herself to calm her breathing and steadied her nerves. She took a secret moment to grin to herself and started packing up her rifle.

  Chapter 12 – Tears

  After the Bitter Bark debacle at Duc Lavouré’s estate Jacques decided Bastien Bonvillain needed to lay low for a while. He made certain to spread the rumour that Bastien had trouble holding his alcohol and that he was currently abed with what could only be described as the world’s worst hangover. It saved the Baron some disgrace, he had not been the only one to over indulge in alcohol and make a fool of himself but he was the only one to do the polite thing and remove himself from society for a few days, and it also gave him the chance to further one of Jacques current pursuits, the study of the Ooze.

  The glass case had arrived during the early hours of the morning and Trim had seen it delivered to the Baron’s private study, to which not even the house staff were permitted entry. Jacques marvelled at its creation. Not only had the Glassmasters achieved the perfect combination of elements but they had managed to create the glass box so the only opening, a sliding glass plate on the roof of the box, was almost completely invisible when closed. Despite his extensive wealth of knowledge Jacques had no idea how the Glassmasters had created his newest toy.

  The toy was only part of the Baron’s order for the Glassmasters and the other part had arrived in a wooden box padded with the most sumptuous red velvet. Jacques glanced over at the box, his excitement bubbling up like a child with a secret. He clapped loudly and looked at Trim. “Shall we begin?”

  Karl Trim looked anything other than pleased. “I do have other work to do.”

  “Nonsense,” Jacques stated firmly. “What could be more important than this?”

  “Running the Bonvillain household. Your larder and wine cellar doesn’t restock itself and cleaning up after the Baron is beyond a chore. Rumour has it he threw up all over his bedroom.”

  “Did you start that rumour or did I?”

  “I believe that one sprung to life all on its own.”

  Jacques nodded. Rumours were a lot like fires, they spread quickly and had a habit of spawning new and slightly different versions of themselves. “Well I believe you work for Baron Bonvillain, is that not so?”

  Trim looked suspicious.

  “The Baron is ordering you to help me. So, shall we begin?”

  Trim grumbled out something which may have been an insult.

  “Have you got the gloves?” Jacques asked.

  “Six pairs each,” Trim stated.

  “Six?”

  “These things can digest rock and steel.”

  Jacques nodded. “Very good point. Six it is.”

  What followed was two hours of hunting. Half an hour of furious deliberation and another half hour of herding, pushing and finally carrying a mostly colourless Ooze from the dank tunnels underneath the city to Jacques’ glass box. By the time the creature was housed securely in its new home both Jacques and Trim were grimy, sweaty and sporting a variety of minor burns. The Bonvillain mansion had a few smouldering areas of wooden floor where Ooze ooze had dripped and all twelve pairs of heavy duty smith gloves were nothing more than scraps of toughened leather.

  “Be a good man and get rid of those, Trim,” Jacques said waving towards the ruined gloves while watching the Ooze intently. The creature might not have any eyes but Jacques could have sworn it was watching him through the glass of its new home.

  Trim picked up the discarded leather gauntlets, opened the top of the glass case and dropped the scraps inside. The Ooze immediately slithered over to investigate and enveloped a small scrap of leather.

  “Fascinating!” Jacques exclaimed and looked up to find Trim collapsing into a cushioned chair and burying his bald head in his hands. “Are you alright, Karl? You look terrible. Perhaps you should take a rest.”

  “I might just do that,” Trim mumbled.

  Jacques moved around the glass case to get a better look at the Ooze. It was quickly digesting more of the leather scraps. “An excellen
t idea with the extra gloves, Trim,” he said. “We’d likely be missing hands by now without them.”

  As Jacques watched the Ooze moved on from digesting the leather scraps, leaving nothing behind, and began to explore its cage. It slithered up to the edge of the glass closest to him and moved its way along until it reached one of the corners where it pooled up and waited, presumably attempting to digest the glass and thankfully failing. Despite its lack of obvious brain or nervous system of any regard the creature did appear to have something of a rudimentary intelligence. No doubt these were all discoveries that the University had already made but Jacques found them fascinating nonetheless.

  Jacques had not captured one of the creatures just to study it though; he had a far more sinister use in mind. “I might attempt an extraction,” he announced.

  “Already?” Trim asked from his seat. “Do you think that wise? We haven’t even tested the vials yet.”

  “Do you think we should?”

  Trim opened his eyes and nodded vigorously. “I believe it would be the prudent course of action.”

  Jacques let out a loud sigh. “Yes. I suppose it would.” He looked over at the wooden box that had accompanied the glass case and then back at the Ooze. The creature had moved from the corner and was heading towards the next in an attempt to free itself from its glass cage.

  He walked over to the wooden box and grinned at it, rubbing his hands together in excitement. He carefully flipped open the two catches and eased up the lid gently as if expecting to wake some devilish creature from inside. Instead he saw eight fragile glass vials each with an accompanying glass stopper and the prize piece, a glass syringe with tube, needle and plunger all made of the same fragile glass. The entire set had easily cost as much as the glass case and that had most certainly not been cheap. Jacques could have bought himself and Isabel a trip to Great Turlain and back on an airship for less.

  He carefully eased one of the glass vials out of the velvet padding and held it in the palm of his hand. “It weighs almost nothing.” He carried it over to the glass case and opened the lid, gently placing the vial on the floor of the case and closing the lid again. The vial rolled a little back and forth before coming to a dead stop. After a few moments the Ooze slid over to investigate.

  First the Ooze enveloped the vial, just as it had the leather scraps. Jacques watched intently but nothing seemed to happen. He had been able to see the leather dissolving before his very eyes within the Ooze but the glass remained intact. Without warning the vial shattered into a hundred little pieces inside the creature. Jacques’ heart sank, it was entirely possible the glass was simply too thin to withstand the Ooze’s acid.

  The glass shards were held suspended within the body of the Ooze for a long time before the creature moved away to resume investigating its cage but when it slithered away it left the shards behind.

  Trim joined Jacques by the case. “That one vial cost over a year’s wages for most folk.”

  “I don’t believe it can dissolve the glass, despite its fragility, but it looks as though the Ooze itself can exert some sort of force upon objects suspended inside its body,” Jacques mused more to himself than to Trim.

  “Do you think it will work then?” Trim asked.

  Jacques grinned. “Only one way to find out. Fetch me the syringe.”

  Trim brought Jacques the wooden box and opened the lid. Jacques lifted the glass syringe out as carefully as he could and Trim opened the roof of the Ooze’s cage. Jacques paused with his hands and syringe already half into the box.

  “What are you waiting for?” Trim asked. “Get it while it’s not moving.”

  “I’m considering how best to go about this,” Jacques said. He was feeling more than a little wary and couldn’t quite explain why.

  “Stab it with the needle,” Trim offered standing close behind him and staring over his shoulder.

  “I have to be gentle,” Jacques said. “It’s very fragile.”

  “What in the name of the Creator are you doing?” The voice was firm, condemning and belonged to Baroness Adeline Bonvillain. Jacques knew he was in trouble when Isabel spoke to him in the Baroness’ voice.

  “Experimenting?” Jacques said without conviction. He glanced over his shoulder but all he could see was Trim’s anxious face standing far too close. “Do you mind, Karl?”

  The bald man startled and backed away. “Of course. Sorry, Baron. I was just…”

  “Oh drop the Baron and sit down, Trim,” Isabel ordered. “You look terrible.”

  Trim did as he was told and collapsed back into the chair he had previously occupied. Jacques slowly removed his hands from the glass case, placed the syringe back in the box and closed the roof of the Ooze’s cage. All the while Isabel watched him with a stern expression that was every bit the Baroness she was pretending to be.

  “You actually kidnapped an Ooze,” Isabel said shaking her head and walking closer to get a better look inside the glass case. “What are you doing to it?”

  “Attempting to extract its essence,” Jacques stated.

  “Jacques.”

  “Specifically we are attempting to extract some of its internal acidic fluid. If indeed it is fluid. It may be more akin to gel. I’m not sure but we are trying to obtain some of it.”

  “He is,” Trim said from his chair. “I’m just watching because he ordered me too.”

  Isabel sighed. “You hijacked poor Karl into your scheme and you haven’t provided either of you with adequate protection.”

  “I haven’t?” Jacques waved at the case.

  “What if the creature explodes when you jab it with that needle?”

  Jacques laughed and shook his head. “I highly doubt it…”

  “But you don’t know! You could have been killed Jacques. That thing in there may look harmless but it is anything but. It is dangerous and unpredictable.” Isabel had been working herself up as she spoke and Jacques suddenly found himself feeling quite the fool.

  “Your hands,” Isabel continued.

  Jacques looked down at his hands. They were grubby and red and burned in places. Now he thought about it the burns did hurt quite a lot. Trim was likely in as much pain.

  “What would you do if you lost the use of a finger or, Creator forbid, an entire hand? Do you think you could still thieve?”

  “The left hand or the right?” Jacques asked hoping to diffuse the tension with humour. He knew it was the wrong thing to say before the words had even left his mouth but that didn’t stop them spilling out.

  A single heavy tear rolled down Isabel’s face and Jacques knew she was holding the rest in. “Does it matter?” she asked her voice tight.

  “No. It doesn’t,” Jacques said stepping forwards to embrace Isabel but she took a step back out of the way. “I’m sorry, Bel. You know me; I get an idea in my head and just go at it. Damn the consequences. That’s why I need you. To tell me when I’m being a fool and when I need to stop and think things through.” He glanced over at Trim but the man seemed to be thankfully ignoring them and doing his very best to imitate unconsciousness.

  Another tear rolled down her cheek and Isabel clenched her jaw and turned away. Jacques had only seen her this angry once before and that had been after the Trillin job. After a near perfect execution of attaining entry into Baron Trillin’s private study Jacques had botched the alchemical burning gel they were using to crack the safe. Instead of a slow melting of the safe’s hinges the gel had ignited with a loud bang that had both blinded him and thrown him across the room. To top it off the blast had alerted the Baron and his house staff. The escape had been death defying but worse was that it took four whole days for Jacques’ vision to return. For four whole days he had been terrified but Isabel had been a wreck. Jacques had sworn never to make her cry like that again and here he was on the verge of repeating the mistake.

  “Bel,” Jacques said in the calmest tone he could muster. “I’m sorry. We’ll take precautions.” He looked over to Trim pretending t
o sleep in the chair. “Karl could you secure me some more of those wonderful gloves and some sort of face guard. We’ll do this slowly and correctly.”

  Trim almost leapt up so eager he was to leave the room and within moments he was gone leaving Jacques alone with Isabel and the Ooze.

  “Why are you trying to extract ooze from the Ooze anyway?” Isabel said. She still wasn’t looking at him but her voice had regained much of its usual tone. No one alive could master themselves like Isabel and Jacques loved her for it.

  “This entire setup has so far cost me less than half of what it would cost to secure one vial of liquid Ice-Fire. The acids contained within the Ooze or, um, comprising the Ooze are strong enough to eat through almost anything given enough time.”

  “Except the glass,” Isabel said still not meeting Jacques’ eyes but instead inspecting the creature contained within the glass case.

  “Indeed,” Jacques agreed. “Trim has the exact alchemical composition memorised. Useful man to have around.”

  “So it’s better than Ice-Fire?” Isabel asked.

  Jacques made a non-committal sound. “Different. Certainly cheaper than Ice-Fire if I can get the stuff out of the Ooze. It’s almost like extracting blood I believe only without any veins. I may be able to treat the acid with other chemicals once I have it extracted. Carefully of course.”

  “What about a delivery system?” Isabel asked.

  “Uh,” Jacques stumbled over his words.

  “If we need to apply this acid that can eat through anything to something that is say horizontal, without dripping or spillage?”

  Jacques clicked his fingers as an idea came to him. “Some sort variable nozzle system attached to the open end of the vial that would allow us to redirect the angle at which the vial is held against the horizontal substrate.”

  He ran over to his desk and pulled out paper and charcoal pencil and immediately began sketching down design ideas. He would of course have to present those ideas to the Glassmasters and hope they could incorporate the designs into the next series of glass vials but then the masters were always up for a challenge. Already he was forming a plan of how he could offer to help with the process in order to watch and gain a better understanding of how the glass was made.