A Clockwork Fairytale (28 page)

***

Turk stood on the wharf at the docks, hands on hips, and stared at the long sweeping curve of the coast that formed a natural harbor. In the distance, a rocky headland protruded far into the sea, shielding the bay from the north winds while the man-made breakwater at the other end divided the docks from South Spit Marshes.

Above the Royal Victualler’s office at the northern end of the port, the blue and gold flag of Royal Malverne Isle flapped in the wind. Beyond the office, a wall enclosed a twenty-foot drop onto jagged rocks. This was The Well where those condemned to death were thrown to be finished off by the sea.

The barges of the Royal Fleet, which plied back and forth across the channel bringing supplies from the mainland, occupied berths near the Royal Victualler’s office. In front of Turk were independent barges from the mainland and two merchant brigs up from the south with their colorful airships floating above them.

Turk had risked leaving the protection of the monastery grounds that morning without a glamour to disguise himself. He thought he would be more likely to get passage on a southern ship if they recognized him as one of them. He was dressed in tatty black dress trousers, but he had found a clean shirt. He’d turned up the sleeves and gone without a neck cloth so he blended in better with the folk on the docks.

As Turk approached the nearest southern brig, a stream of Malverne dockworkers were going up and down the gangplank, unloading the cargo while the crew supervised. “Hey,” Turk waved a hand to signal to the sailor at the head of the gangplank, checking off what was unloaded. The man raised his head and scrutinized Turk, before trotting down the gangplank to meet him on the quay.

“What is it you are wanting?” the man asked in a lilting foreign accent.

“I’m looking for passage south.”

The man looked Turk up and down, a frown creasing his forehead. “We do not take passengers.”

“Can I speak with your captain?” Turk wasn’t going to argue with a crewman. He was sure the captain would find a berth for him if he offered enough coin.

The sailor shrugged. “You can find our captain in the Royal Victualler’s office. We are here for longer than usual as your dockers will not work tomorrow because of your Great Earth Day celebration. ”

Turk glanced at the offices at the far end of the harbor and sighed. He wasn’t going to invite trouble by wandering among the bluejackets thronging the quay near the Royal Barges. “I’ll wait here for him,” he said turning back to the man. But the sailor had already lost interest and was halfway up the gangplank to the ship.

As Turk started toward the other southern ship a filthy, ragged tyke dashed up. “Master Turk, sir?” he asked.

Turk squinted at the boy’s grimy face, trying to make out his features. He was certain he didn’t recognize him. “Who’s asking?”

“I’ve a note, sir.” The boy pushed a small folded piece of paper into Turk’s hand, then dashed off, leaving the sour stink of trash on the air.

Turk unfolded the note to find a brief message.
Meet me outside The Cocky Parrot Tavern at ten
. The missive was unsigned but only Dante would use a trash tyke to deliver a note. Turk wasn’t carrying his pocket watch so he swung around and squinted at the huge clock on the tower over the Royal Victualler’s office. It was past ten bells already. But he was lucky; the tavern where Dante wanted to meet was only a few minutes away at the southern end of the harbor.

With a frustrated glance at the merchant brigs, Turk set off along the wharf, planning to return later to book his passage south. He strode between men carrying bolts of silk, barrels, and boxes on their shoulders, while squawking seagulls rode the salty breeze above their heads.

The Cocky Parrot was quiet at this time of day. The door was barred, and the windows shuttered until later when the sailors and dockworkers would cram into the tumbledown building to drown their sorrows.

At first Turk thought Dante wasn’t there, but as he drew closer, he saw him leaning against the wall in the shadow between the tavern and the warehouse next door. Dante beckoned him into the alley. “I tried to track you down yesterday afternoon,” he said, “but my runner returned with the message undelivered.”

“I was at the monastery. The boy could have left it there for me.”

Dante shook his head. “I told him to deliver it directly into your hands so I knew you would be here.”

Turk had never seen Dante grim-faced and serious. It set his already taut nerves on edge. “What’s so important?”

“Princess Melbaline visited me at the trash barges yesterday.”

“She what?” Jealousy stabbed Turk. Why would Melba trudge all the way out to South Spit Marshes to see Dante? “Why is she interested in you?”

“Much as I’d like to think the princess is interested in me, I think she came only to find out more about you.”

Turk averted his face to hide his impulsive smile. Then he remembered how dangerous it was for a lady to travel through the outer circles. “Please tell me she was properly guarded.”

Dante nodded. “She had a squad of the Royal Guard with her and Vittorio of course.” Bitterness rose in Turk at the thought of her being protected by that despicable man. “But I fear she is in greater peril from her friends than her enemies,” Dante finished.

Turk’s gaze shot up to Dante’s face. “What do you mean?”

Dante sucked in a breath and blew it out. “Someone is poisoning her.”

“Melba? Someone is poisoning Melba? That’s impossible. I was only with her two days ago and I sensed nothing wrong.”

“Then it’s only just started, thank the Great Earth Jinn.”

“How do you know?”

“I sensed the contamination when I kissed her hand. We need to act now before it gets worse.”

The chill of the dank alley sank into Turk’s bones. Sensing his fear, his Silver Serpent stirred inside the medallion against his chest. “What type of poison?” he asked, praying that Dante was mistaken.

“Emanations from a Foul Jinn.”

“Great Earth Jinn, no,” Turk whispered. He pressed a hand to the wall to steady himself. This was his fault. He’d delivered Melba into Vittorio’s hands. But in truth, he had never thought the man would have the nerve to harm her right under the king’s nose. “This must be Vittorio’s doing. He wants to kill her so he can assume the throne.”

“He doesn’t want to kill her, Turk. He wants to marry her.”

“Then why poison her?” Turk narrowed his eyes on the Trash King suspiciously. “How is it you always seem to know what the Royal Victualler has planned?”

Dante took a couple of steps back and held up his palms. “Before I answer, remember that I’m here now volunteering information to help the princess. And I also tried to warn you before Vittorio came to take her from your palace.”

“You have a spy close to the Royal Victualler?” Turk guessed.

Dante laughed wryly. “I have no spies, Turk. I just listen to the gossip of the trash men. No, the reason I know so much about Vittorio is because he’s my half brother.”

Turk stared at Dante in disbelief. Yet now he could see the likeness despite the difference in their coloring. Dante had the same bright blue eyes as Vittorio and beneath the dirt, the Trash King was doubtless as handsome as the Royal Victualler.

“If you’re Vittorio’s brother, why do you live on the trash barges?”

“A long story, mate. One for another day. Right now we should decide how to help Melba.” Turk’s hackles rose at Dante’s easy use of Melba’s given name as though they were on familiar terms. He pushed the feeling aside, ashamed of himself when all that mattered was Melba’s safety. “You should go to the king,” Dante said. “Explain what’s happening.”

Turk shook his head. He might be able to pass unnoticed in the melee on the quay, but he was certain if he went anywhere near the Royal Palace, then Vittorio would have him arrested. “I would not gain access to him.”

“Well, he certainly isn’t going to invite me in for tea,” Dante said.

“We need to get Melba away from Vittorio so he cannot poison her any more. I’ll have to take her to the monastery to cleanse her.” If she had only suffered brief exposure, the cleansing should be easy.

“Just send her a note and ask her to meet you somewhere,” Dante suggested.

“Even if she received the note, I doubt she’d be allowed out of the Palace unsupervised. Vittorio will be watching her even more closely than before.”

“You’re right.” Dante scratched his stubbly cheek, then fished a square of vellum out of his pocket and held it up. “She sent me an invitation to the Great Earth Day celebration at the Palace. I joked I would attend. Perhaps I really should. There will be crowds of people. We won’t get a better chance to smuggle her out.

“I can disguise myself and slip in,” Turk said. “The first task is to clean you up. We should be able to sneak into Waterberry House via the skyways. You can wash up there and I’ll lend you some togs.”

“I’m not removing my clothes and baring delicate body parts anywhere near Gwinnie. She’s never forgiven me for usurping her place as Trash Queen. We’ll have to think of somewhere else I can bathe.”

Mention of Gwinnie gave Turk an idea. As a rule, he avoided brothels, but he made an exception for the Red House, owned by Gwinnie’s sister, Madam Regina. Unlike other madams, she had scruples. Instead of exploiting the desperate young girls who turned up on her doorstep, if they were under sixteen she tried to find them work elsewhere. Turk and Gwinnie had helped a number of girls find positions in domestic service in the inner circles.

Doubtless the Trash King would have no qualms about using the facilities of a brothel. “I think I have an alternative for you,” Turk said with a lift of his brows.

“Where?”

“Follow me.” Turk set off down the lane with Dante on his heels. The two men threaded their way through the maze of shadowy alleys where the sun didn’t penetrate. As they neared the third circle, they came upon a tall house with red walls. Built around a private courtyard, the property had wooden benches set against the walls where patrons sat outside in the warm weather. This early in the day, the place was shuttered and silent. Turk knocked and waited. Eventually the shutters on the window nearest the door cracked apart. A few moments later the door opened.

Madam Regina stood nearly as tall as Turk. She was younger and slimmer than Gwinnie with only a touch of silver at her temples, but her eyes held the same world-weary look that said she had seen too much suffering. They must have woken her, as she came to the door wearing a scarlet silk wrap and delicate heeled slippers trimmed with feathery flowers. “Master Turk, what brings you to me door at this uncivil hour?” She wrinkled her nose, glancing past him at Dante with a frown.

“I would ask a favor, Madam.” Turk inclined his head, but she was already stepping aside and motioning them in. The stale smell of cheap perfume, alcohol, and lust hung inside the dark receiving room. Madam Regina threw open the shutters on two windows and the sun streamed in, cutting through the dusty darkness. Worn red velvet divans trimmed with frayed gold tassels ringed the walls, looking tawdry in the harsh sunlight. “My friend here needs a bath to make him presentable. I shall have clean clothes sent over for him.”

Madam Regina looked Dante up and down, apparently impervious to his flirtatious grin. “It’ll take more than a dash of soap an’ water to make this one smell sweet. But the girls will like his pretty face.” She strode out into the corridor and Turk heard muffled voices and doors banging.

Dante leaned toward Turk and asked under his breath, “Will this be a simple bath, or are other services included?”

“My only concern is to get you cleaned up,” Turk said, stepping back as Madam Regina reappeared in the doorway. A slender dark-haired woman who looked to be in her late twenties followed her. She wore a gold silk wrap and was obviously naked underneath. With practiced allure, she peered at Turk and Dante from beneath her lashes.

“Go with Cybal,” Madam Regina said to Dante. “She’ll take you to the bathhouse and scrub you clean, lad.”

Dante raised a fist and knocked knuckles with Turk. “Thanks, mate.” Grinning broadly, he turned to follow Cybal.

“I’ll send you over smart togs. Meet me at the shrine in Sugar Street Market tomorrow afternoon around five.”

“I will—if I’ve finished my bath by then,” Dante shouted from the corridor.

Turk returned his gaze to Madam Regina to find her watching him, her expression softer than before. “There ain’t no reason why I can’t wake another girl for you, Master Turk. You know I would never tell a soul.”

“No, I…” He was about to say he would never break his vows, but when Gregorio released him from his pledge, all his vows were discharged. Yet he couldn’t even imagine going into one of these tawdry rooms with a tart. Even though he could never be with Melba, it would be a long time before he wanted any other woman.

Madam Regina placed a hand on his arm. “Another time, perhaps. Remember, if you ever need my help, you only have to ask.”

Chapter Twenty-one

Beware of the smiling shark
.

—Bluejackets’ saying

Vittorio knocked and entered the king’s bedchamber, immediately catching the faint bad-fish stink of Foul Jinn. His step faltered, momentarily shocked at the deterioration in King Santo. After the apparent improvement in the king’s health once Melba returned, Vittorio had increased the dose of poison he put in his food. But maybe he had overdone it.