The horrid creature lunged at Holly. Trapped in the
narrow hall between it and Vonken, she reacted instinctually: she snatched up
the first portable object at hand and swung hard at the monster. The blow
jarred her back a step, but sent the monster reeling, and then she almost fell
on her knees to keep Betsy from hitting the floor when Vonken thrust the child
at her. The Coldspark pushed roughly past her, yelling “Terugkrijgen!” and gesturing sharply. Holly heard sounds of
scuffling but couldn’t see into the dark turret room. She clung to the anxious
child, despite Betsy’s feeble efforts to get away.
“Shh, it’s all right, it’s safe now,” Holly whispered,
for her own comfort as much as the girl’s, when the grunts and thumps stopped
abruptly. She flinched when light suddenly swept through the doorway, having to
blink several times to see clearly. A ragged, man-sized figure lay motionless
on the flower-patterned carpet. Vonken threw open another set of louvered
blinds, and turned toward her; she could see his shoulders still heaving, the
rush of the brief fight yet in his blood. “Is it safe?” she asked, peering from
the doorway at the downed form.
“I’ll wager he won’t wake for hours,” Vonken said,
striding across the room to rejoin them. He lifted his goggles to reveal eyes
alight, and smiled at Betsy. “I’ve immobilized him. Don’t worry. Very nice
right cross, Miss Autumnson.”
Holly looked at the object still clenched in her hand: a
brass elephant, a knickknack from India, brought home by her father. Guiltily,
she set it back upon an occasional table in the hall. “What is that thing?” she asked, glancing
again at the monster. Small sparks of green energy crackled around its body,
and it seemed drawn up awkwardly as if bound by ropes.
Vonken plucked a white kerchief from an inner pocket of
his coat and wiped his gloves. “Judging by what’s left of his uniform, a Pilot
of the Northern Pacific Airship Corps.” He gave her a hard, searching look.
“You don’t recognize him?”
“I didn’t even realize it was a ‘him!’” Holly stepped slowly into the room, bringing a reluctant
Betsy with her, cradling the child’s shoulders with one arm. “A Pilot? You mean
a Kraken Pilot? But...I thought they
never left their ship, once they were bonded...”
“They don’t,” Vonken agreed, thoughtfully stroking his
moustache. He walked once around the unconscious creature...man, Holly corrected herself.
She ushered Betsy past the prisoner, toward the high,
soft bed. “It’s all right now, dear...let’s get you comfortable. This will be
your room now. I promise it’s much more cheery than it may look, at present...”
She knew she should be setting the bedroom to rights, starting a fire in the
chilly hearth, and perhaps a quick dusting, but this was hardly the homecoming
she’d expected. She frowned at Vonken as she settled the child under the
blankets. “Why should I recognize
such a person?”
“He was saying something about a sister.”
She snorted. “Well, he’s no brother of mine!” Wait... “You don’t...you don’t think
this is somehow connected to Mikael?”
Vonken gave her a serious look; his voice was subdued.
“I’ve read the newspaper accounts of the expedition. The Krakenship and its
crew were lost. Presumed dead...” He nudged the shoulder of the Pilot with the
toe of his boot. “Presumed, only.”
Holly came closer, studying the frightening features.
Tiny tentacles feebly twitched above the Pilot’s mouth, like a flesh-colored
moustache come to life. It seemed chinless, and the cheeks stretched tight over
pronounced bones, no longer quite resembling a human skull. At least his eyes are closed, she
thought with a shudder. The glistening orbs of blackness she’d glimpsed when it
entered the lamplight had made her recoil most of all. “Why would he come
here?” she whispered.
“Perhaps your brother had a message for you, or
perhaps...” Vonken knelt, and gently patted the tattered tunic and loose
pantaloons the Pilot wore. He shook his head, rising again. “Nothing. If this
man had the element, it must have been lost on his way back...or in the battle
that cost him his mount.” He pursed his lips grimly. “Poor devil.”
“Is it a devil, Miss?” a tiny voice asked. Holly hastened
to the bed, and stroked the child’s hair.
“No, sweetheart. It’s a Pilot from a Krakenship. I don’t
know why he’s here, but don’t you worry about it. Here, let’s get this room
warmed up.” She moved toward the small coal hearth, but Vonken muttered
something and tossed a bright green spark at it without even looking. Instantly
the old coal in the grate blazed up, and heat wafted across the room.
Holly folded her arms across her bosom. “Rather flash.”
Vonken ignored her jibe. He gestured at the Pilot. “Let’s
suppose this is your brother’s
expeditionary Pilot. He survives the downing of the ship, manages somehow to
return to Concordia, and comes to your
home, although presumably he’s never visited...” His head jerked up, alarmed.
“How did he get past the wards?”
“Perhaps you left something undone?”
“I did not,” Vonken asserted, but he seemed unsure, eyes
darting to the windows, the hearth, the door. “Moreover, assuming Villard’s
minion is still keeping watch, this will have been reported by now. This is not favorable...”
“What about Betsy?” Holly realized, dismayed, she hadn’t
even thought about Villard’s surveillance, as though she was some sort of
wartime target, when she volunteered her home as a sickhouse. “Will they—“
“You’re a lonely young woman of Society who has decided
to devote her time and resources to caring for the city’s unfortunates,” Vonken
said. “Let them try to object to
that! Further, it occurs to me that a home under quarantine may be exceptionally
useful to us...” He shook his head, squinting at the ceiling. “How the blazes
did he get in?”
“’Useful to us’? Does
this mean, Doctor, you’ve agreed to finally—“ She broke off, indignant, when
Vonken suddenly hurried from the room. “Doctor!”
He walked angrily up and down the second-floor hallways,
head up, reminding Holly of a hound trying to get the scent of a vanished
quarry. “No, they’re all intact,” he muttered. “Doors, windows, chimneys,
attic...attic!”
“You didn’t go up to the attic,” Holly said.
“I’m aware of
that!” he snarled, and began jerking open doors. “Where are they?”
“Where are what?”
“The blasted stairs, woman!”
Coldly, Holly opened a narrow door set right next to the
linen closet. Vonken charged up the stairs revealed. Holly shouted after him,
“Are you telling me your wonderful security measures left out the top of the
house? That any rogue devoid of respect for my property could have just...” She
paused, realizing there was no easy access to the attic windows from outside. Not unless one is a bird...but he did say that red-eyed man would climb a
tree to keep watch, and that sycamore is
rather close to the house on the north side... She heard thuds and creaking
floorboards overhead, and then a whimper from the turret bedroom. I left her alone with that...person!
She hastened back to the child. Little Betsy, clutching
the topmost blanket up to her chin, stared with wide eyes at the thing more
Kraken than human as he struggled to sit up. Asleep for hours, my foot! Holly grabbed the brass elephant and
stormed right to the feet of the Pilot, blocking his view of the bed. “You!
Stay still unless you want another dose of this!”
she snapped, waving the heavy trinket at him.
The Pilot subsided at once. Fathomless pools of eyes
gazed straight at her, and Holly fought to match that soulless stare. “Simple
answers. Nod for yes, shake your head for no. Do you understand me?” she
demanded, proud that she kept her voice from trembling. The Pilot stared at her
a moment, then gave a slow nod. She checked the aether bonds with which Vonken
had trussed the Pilot, but except for rolling and wriggling as he’d done a
moment ago, he seemed unable to move. She took a deep breath, forcing her
nerves to settle. The miniature tentacles above his mouth writhed slowly; she
saw one reach for the uppermost of the crackling bonds lashing his limbs
against his body and jerk back well shy of the spark it set off.
“Miss?” Betsy asked. Holly looked back long enough to
give the girl a strained smile.
“Don’t worry, Betsy. He’s tied up, and Dr Vonken is
making sure there are no more...unpleasant surprises to deal with.”
“Sisser,” the Pilot gurgled. Startled, Holly took a step
away from him. Bright black eyes shone in the afternoon light through the
windows. He leaned to one side, trying to see around Holly from a supine
position. “Sisser...?”
“Did you break into this house looking for me?” Holly
asked, but the Pilot only glanced at her before straining to see the bed again.
She moved to block his view, alarmed by his apparent interest in the child. Angry,
she forgot her strategy of yes-or-no questions. “What are you doing here? What
do you want?”
Thumping footsteps announced the return of Vonken. He
walked into the bedroom, displaying a very odd expression. “You have a dead man
in your attic.”
“I what?”
“A dead man,” Vonken said, drawing the words out,
“in...your...attic.”
Holly looked back at the Pilot, who still squirmed this
way and that, unable to shift more than a few inches in either direction. “Do
you think he...” She swallowed. “Who is it?”
“Blinky, I’m fairly sure.” Vonken shook his head. “I’m
assuming so, given the retroscopic scanning lens still embedded in the
skull...but I’ve never seen a corpse smothered in acidic ichor and apparently
bitten to shreds like that before. And trust me when I say I have seen all manner of horrors sent back from the
Interior.”
Holly fought back a tinge of nausea. “Bitten?” She glared
at the Pilot, who hadn’t reacted at all to their words. She raised her voice at
him: “Did you kill that man?”
The Pilot turned his head to regard Holly directly,
unblinking. “Kill-in?”
Vonken murmured, “I don’t think he’s capable of real
human speech anymore. They communicate through their thoughts with—“
“I read my brother’s papers, Doctor,” Holly interrupted.
“I am well aware of how the Krakenpilots become more animal than man after long
association with the creatures.”
Vonken raised one eyebrow at her. “Then don’t be so quick
to judge. Our fellow here may have only been needing a snack, not acting in any maliciousness. Either way, he may have
done us a favor.”
She stared at the physician, who seemed more impressed
than horrified by what he’d found upstairs. “This...Pilot...murdered a man in my home and you call that a favor?
Are you quite mad?”
“I’ve been called worse,” Vonken said, grinning briefly
at her. He indicated the slowly twisting man on the carpet. “Think about it:
Blinky was spying on you and sending reports back to Villard. Villard may
realize by now his flunky has befallen some accident, but he won’t have any way
of knowing that this particular Pilot is back in Concordia. The one person who may know what really
happened...is right here, with us. We
need to keep him safe, and devise a way to interrogate him.”
Holly smoothed back her hair, tucking a stray lock behind
a hairpin. She was hardly concerned about her appearance right now, but the
gesture helped her focus. “Are you implying we harbor this...this Pilot here?”
“Sisser...” the Pilot said, trying to peer around them.
Vonken frowned. “Wait. He’s not looking at you.” His gaze rose to the bed, where Betsy still
curled in the covers, awake and anxious. “Betsy? Have you ever seen this man
before? Did any of your brothers go into the Air Corps?”
The child shook her head emphatically, though it prompted
a coughing fit. Holly quickly fetched a towel from the linen closet, and tried
not to show her dismay at the spots of blood which showed against the fabric
when the girl at last lay back in the pillows. “No sir,” Betsy whispered. “All
my brothers and sisters are gone.”
Poor thing. She
should have something to eat. Torn, Holly looked from her to the Pilot;
Vonken crouched near him, studying him with a frown. She took a deep breath and
voiced her worries aloud. “I really should find her some sustenance...but if
this man killed Villard’s employee, no matter how odious that man was, he may not
stay in this house!”
A sharp rapping from downstairs startled her. Vonken
swiftly rose and joined her in peering through the blinds. Two enormous black
horses shuffled uneasily in the front drive, tethered to an ornamented stone
post. Vonken’s eyes met Holly’s. “We may not have a choice, my dear.”
“I am not your
dear,” she snapped. “Oh, hell and damnation, the Watch!”
Vonken shrugged out of his greatcoat and tossed it over a
chair. He straightened his everyday grey coat and checked that the brass pin of
the Order of Krampf was displayed correctly on his lapel. “I’ll deal with the
Watch. You go start some tea and soup for the child.”
“But—“
“Do as I say,” Vonken barked, but then added, “Please.”
“But what about—“
“Miss Autumnson,” he broke in, taking her hands in his
gloved ones, “Please: for once, no
arguments, no questions, just follow my lead and I promise you things will be perfectly fine.” She stared angrily into
those dark blue eyes, hating herself for the doubt welling up inside, the
desire to hope he was right. The rapping sounded again at the front door.
Finally Holly nodded, and he let her go. As she reluctantly left the room, she
heard him reassuring Betsy: “Now then, my dear, say nothing of this. I know
today has been a little scary for you, but trust me, you are safe here, no
matter what shall come.” Footsteps across the room, and then: “As for you...”
She wanted to see what his solution could possibly be,
but the Watch began banging on the door. They had the authority to attempt to
break the wards by force, if necessary in cases of emergency. She raced down
the stairs, shouting, “Just a moment, sirs!” This made them halt their
pounding, and she turned the corner and ran to the kitchen. As an afterthought,
she kicked the swinging door open again and dropped an iron on the floor to
prop it there so she could hear better. She filled the kettle and stoked the smouldering
belly of the huge stove, annoyed that for once Vonken wasn’t showing off his fire-starting skills.
As she hunted the pantry shelves for tinned crab and
garlic, she heard the front door open, and Vonken addressing the men of the
Watch. His greeting was too quiet for her to fully catch, but their response
was loud: “We had a report of possible violence in this vicinity, sir. Came to
check, see if all was well.”
Holly strained to hear, trying to remember in which of
the books on the kitchen shelf she’d seen a broth recipe. She really had no
idea what she was about here. She dumped two tins of Pacifica crabmeat into a
pot and added some water and herbs. Voices rose from the front hall: “Well, I
assure you, gentlemen, everything in this house is as it should be at present.”
“Well, you see, sir, the problem is—“
“Doctor.”
“Excuse me?”
“Doctor Darius
Vonken.”
“I see. Doctor
Vonken, isn’t this the Autumnson home?”
“It is. Now as I have much to tend to inside, I must wish
you gentlemen good day.”
Holly remembered to set out a cup and saucer, and scooped
a little of the Olympia black tea into the strainer. Will they really be put off so easily? Who called them? Of course,
the answer was obvious: Villard. The
stovetop heated slowly, and she paced, impatient.
“Well can we talk to Miss Autumnson? Y’see, we had a
report of a possible break-in here.”
“Really. How ludicrous. You’ve wasted a trip up the hill,
I’m afraid.”
“You understand, Doctor, it’s our job to investigate such
reports. Especially in such a well-respected neighborhood...wouldn’t want the
neighbors worryin’ about possible burglars...”
“As I said, utterly ludicrous.”
“Well, we still need to come in and have a look-see, I’m
afraid.”
Holly froze, wondering what Vonken had done with the
Pilot. The kettle began to whistle. The sound shook her into action, and she
swiftly poured, then stirred the soup pot. A sick child needed some form of
nutriment, after all, no matter what obstacles might be rearing up at present.
The Watchman doing all of the talking became more
insistent. “Is Miss Autumnson here?”
“She is, but unavailable at the moment. Now, I’m sorry,
but you cannot come in.”
“I’m sorry,
Doctor, but since you’re not the owner of the house you don’t actually have the right to forbid us entry. If you’ll excuse
us.”
Worried, Holly put a spoon with the teapot and cup on a
small tray, and started for the front hall carrying it. Would they leave, if
she insisted upon it? She thought she remembered some point of law which stated
a member of the Watch had the right to enter any dwelling if the successful
conclusion of his duty required it, and she’d heard of them barging into the
tenements unopposed, but never a home of the gentry... As she neared the
stairs, from the entry beyond she heard the man exclaim, “Out of the way,
Doctor, or Serjeant Cavinall here will remove you!”
“He will not, on
pains of breaking quarantine!”
“What?”
Holly hurried to the door. “Is there some problem,
gentlemen?”
A bewildered, angry Watchman with broad shoulders and an
equally large beard glared at her. “Are you Miss Autumnson?”
She stopped behind Vonken, careful not to spill the tea.
“I am. What’s the trouble, Captain?” She wondered why he was staring at her
mouth, and then remembered she was still wearing the Dustcrafted cloth mask
Vonken had given her. It was so lightweight she’d nearly forgotten it.
“This house is under quarantine for White Plague, by my
directive as a Surgeon of the Order of Krampf,” Vonken declared. He gestured at
Holly. “I only brought one mask with me, sirs, but if you truly insist on inspecting the house, I
suppose you may do so...at your own risk.”
“White Plague?” the serjeant spoke up. For all his bulk
and youthful strength, his voice quavered a bit.
“Is this true? Are you...” the Watch Captain began
hesitantly, still staring at Holly.
“Oh, not me,” Holly assured him. “I...there’s a child...”
“Miss Autumnson has today done our community a marvelous
charity,” Vonken said, folding his hands primly in front of him. “She has
volunteered her home as a sickhouse for an orphan from Wharfside, where the
child may at least expire in comfort and warmth, and with loving attention.” A
tight smile graced his lips a moment. “Do please ask around Wharfside regarding
her? She may yet have some relation who hasn’t succumbed to the disease, and I
certainly wish to start treatment on anyone else
infected before we have another epidemic on our hands.”
Both the serjeant and the captain now slowly backed away
from the open door. “We’ll...we’ll do that. How...how bad off is the tyke?”
“Likely terminal.” Vonken shook his head sadly. “But here
she will have quiet, and rest, and comfort, and who knows? Perhaps she may
recover.” He frowned, and seemed apologetic. “I only just arrived here to see
to the child’s needs, and hadn’t yet erected the quarantine warning. Let me
remedy that.” He stepped onto the porch, and Holly bit back a smile at seeing
how the Watchmen flinched away from him, all pomposity of law gone. Vonken
traced a symbol in the air, and the large X in a circle began to glow crimson.
“There we are.”
The captain made one last attempt to fulfill his charge.
“Miss, you haven’t seen anyone lurking around all suspicious lately, have you?”
She fought down the delicious urge to answer why yes, a shady character with a red-lensed
eye was skulking around last night. “No. No, I certainly haven’t! I’m sure
every criminal in Columbia knows this neighborhood is amply patrolled by your
men, though, Captain.”
“Right,” the captain said, and backed off the porch,
hastily preceded by his subordinate. “Well. I hope your little orphan recovers,
Miss Autumnson.”
“Thank you, Captain. I trust you’ll be diligent in
searching Wharfside?”
“Searching...? Oh. Oh yes! Of course.” The captain
touched a finger to his cap, and mounted up. The horses whickered and stamped
their feet, eager to be away from Coldspark activity. “Good day to you both.”
The relief Holly felt as the Watch rode away was quashed
by Vonken’s scowl. “Are you letting that tea go cold? What’s the matter with
you? I swear there’s no common sense in anyone living in Hillside.” He shut the
door and bolted it. “At least now there’s no danger of anyone searching the
house! Even Villard’s goons will be wary of coming within an hundred paces.”
“Is Betsy safe? What did you do with the Pilot?”
Vonken sniffed the air. “Is that burning crab?”
“Oh, god – the broth!”
“I’ll see to it. Take her the tea.” Vonken strode back
through the house. In a huff, Holly carried the tea tray upstairs. I am becoming extremely tired of that man presuming
to order me about like a tavern wench! She found Betsy resting more
comfortably in bed, and no sign of the Krakenpilot. She sat on the side of the
bed, and the girl opened tired eyes.
“Are the coppers gone?”
Holly paused in pouring the tea, taken aback. “Yes...yes,
they’ve gone.” She managed a smile for the girl. “Here, see if you can sit up a
little.” She assisted the child to lean forward, and repositioned the pillows
to support her while she sipped the tea. “I suppose you haven’t had very good
experiences with the Watch,” Holly mused.
Betsy shook her head. “They chase us out’a places, even
when they’re empty and don’t belong to no one.” She blinked up at Holly. “Can I
really stay here?”
“Yes, of course you can.” Holly felt a pang in her chest
at the doubting tone in the child’s voice. “You’ll find I always say exactly what I mean...except perhaps where the coppers
are concerned.” She shared a grin with the girl, but Betsy’s faded first.
“I heard what you‘n the doctor talked about. ‘Bout me not
getting better.” When Holly began to protest, Betsy carefully brushed her limp
hair from her brow, a look of calm acceptance giving her gravity beyond her
years. “It’s okay, Miss. I want to thank you for this. Bringing me here...but
you don’t get sick yourself, all right? My Pa took sick’t first...” She fell
silent. Holly imagined a crowded, desperate family all catching this illness
and dying, one after another, until only this girl lingered. Before the Cataclysm,
this would have taken years...time enough to stop it, perhaps; time enough to
save them... Struck for the first time by the direct human cost of the
planetary tragedy, Holly felt tears stinging her eyes. Betsy reached for her
hand, and Holly gave her it at once. Tiny fingers weakly squeezed her own. “Oh,
don’t cry, Miss, I’m sorry!”
Holly choked. “You...you have nothing to apologize for,
dear. Dr Vonken will do all he can, and I’m sure you will indeed get better.”
She saw him entering the room, bearing a steaming bowl. “Look here, we’ve made
you some soup! I’m sure with all this attention, you’ll be up and playing again
in very good time.” She smiled again, and whether she sensed its forcedness or
not, Betsy smiled back. She was able to lift the spoon herself, and supped,
which gave Holly a little hope.
Vonken frowned. “Who taught you to make broth?”
Holly tried not to visibly rile. She suspected he enjoyed
raising her ire. “No one. I read it in a cooking book.”
He snorted. “Had you bothered with any practical experience, you’d know that broth, by definition, has the meat
strained out of it. I’m also
surprised you chose crab, considering your adventure with the same species this
morning.”
“Eating the things which wanted to eat me seems rather a
fitting revenge,” she returned evenly. “Now tell me what you did with—“
“Under the bed.”
Holly looked down, just in time to see a couple of
pinkish wormlike things trying to curl around her ankle. She managed not to shriek, though she did vacate the
side of the bed in a hurry. Vonken leaned down, took hold of the bound Pilot,
and dragged him out. “Not a sound. Good man. We may yet reach an accord.”
“You don’t still propose to keep him here!”
Vonken shrugged, and hauled the Pilot to his feet. Black
eyes fastened on Betsy; she stared back, spoon frozen at her lips. “Sisser...na
will?” the Pilot croaked. He didn’t resist as Vonken marched him across the
room, though those strange eyes never left the girl in the bed.
“Sister not well,” Vonken agreed. “Sister has plague.
Let’s find you another room, hm?”
Holly tried again, following the doctor and keeping her
tone calm for the child’s sake. “You cannot possibly think I will feel at all
safe if this murderer is allowed to...”
Vonken halted, irritated. “What do you propose? Even
though we’ll be spared a house search now, I guarantee you Villard will post
another spy in some form, if he hasn’t already. I know of no trick to render
this man invisible, so unless you’ve come across some arcane spell in all those
books of yours, we haven’t much
choice! Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he’s locked in and restrained. Get him some
food, and perhaps he’ll recover enough health to talk to us properly.”
“Recover? He’s ill?” Holly shook her head. “How can you tell?”
“Sarcasm does not become you, my dear. He’s exhausted and
traumatized. I doubt he would have killed Blinky in his normal state; Pilots
are known, on the whole, for their calm under fire.” Vonken headed for the
attic door. “I saw a cot up there, and it’s warm, and he might prefer a view of
the sky. Bring more of that tea, and the crab I left in the kitchen.”
Holly pointed out the other
problem. “The attic? But...what about the...the body?”
Vonken paused with his prisoner on the stairs up, then
looked brightly down at her. “Do you have a basement?”
