Boots for the Gentleman (36 page)

“Why?”

The young man looked about nervously, curled his shoulders forward and pulled his hat down over his eyes, inviting no further questioning. “Just wait, and hear what we have to say.”

“We didn’t have any better idea anyway,” Querry conceded. He shared the news with Kristof, who looked impatiently at the crates. The elderly pony slowly ascended a hillock, and the litter grew sparser and homes and grounds larger and finer. The two of them settled back in for a quarter-of-an-hour ride to a quiet, residential neighborhood. They stopped in front of a three-story, brick building surrounded by an iron fence and old trees covered in ivy. Querry and Reg unloaded the crates while Lizard went to the front door and spoke to someone when it opened the tiniest crack. He looked over his shoulder and motioned to the others.

“Inside,” the boy said. “Hurry.”

“Not without—” Kristof began.

Querry put a hand on his shoulder to calm him. “I say, Lizard, can you find us a hammer or a crowbar?”

Lizard went inside and returned with an iron bar. Querry pried the first carton open and Kristof hurried to help the faerie gentleman out, embracing him and whispering to him in fey. He brushed away the sawdust that clung to the faerie’s fine clothes. Querry freed Frolic and took his weapons back from his companion, who’d been keeping them safe in his hiding place. It felt good to have his gun and sword back by his side. He handed Reg his pistols, and the five of them followed Lizard inside and through the house to an expansive cellar. Some oil lamps set on the mismatched tables lit the faces of about forty men and women, many of them foreigners from Rajallah and Xiana. Querry noticed right away that all of them were well armed, and that their hands went to their weapons as they eyed the newcomers suspiciously. If he’d sensed nervousness on the city streets, in here, Querry felt outright panic and paranoia.

“Stop right there,” said an older man with thick muttonchops. He wore pieced-together bits of military and naval uniforms and had a rifle strapped to his back. “We were told to expect three men.”

From the darkened corner of the basement, another man spoke. Querry smiled when he recognized the accent. “These men can be trusted. They saved me from the clock tower and recovered the book about its operation. They are the kind of fighters we need.” Dink made his way to where they stood and patted Querry on the shoulder. “Hello, mein old friend. We are very glad to have you back.”

“Glad to be back,” Querry said, embracing Dink.

The smile dropped from Dink’s face when he saw Kristof and the faerie gentleman standing behind Reg. He broke away from Querry and pointed. “How could you bring him here?”

Kristof stepped in front of his companion protectively. “Just what’s going on?” he asked. “Who are all of you?”

“Concerned citizens,” the man with the rifle said. “We need all the help we can get, but we don’t need help from the likes of him.” He pointed at the faerie.

“Kristof, let’s go,” the gentleman said weakly. “We certainly don’t need anything from these ignorant peasants.”

His statement drew angry retorts from the people assembled. Some of them stood up, and Kristof reached inside his cloak. Querry’s hand went to the hilt of his sword before he knew what he was doing. He stepped backward and stood beside Kristof. “We don’t want any trouble,” he said in warning.

“You got trouble,” said a portly woman with a rolling pin in her hand. “You’re a traitor. Faerie lovers! You come to the wrong place!” Most of the room agreed with her enthusiastically.

“I wouldn’t,” Kristof said, his voice low and threatening in a way Querry would never have thought it capable. Frolic balled his fists and took his place behind Querry’s right shoulder. Even Reg, despite his animosity toward the faerie, brought his hands to the pistols on his hips. A few more people stood up and produced weapons of their own.

“Wait!” Lizard said. “I told them they’d be safe here! They came to help!”

The crowd grumbled angrily. Querry could pick out just a few curses and slurs. It would be a fight after all, and a hard one.

“All of us need to settle down,” Dink said above the din. Eventually everyone sat down, muttering to themselves. “If Querry trusts this- this man, then so will I. If you trust me, value me as one of you, then I beg you to give them a chance. They are the hope we have prayed for these past months. If we have any chance of saving this land, then we must work together.”

“Is that it?” a young man asked, coming closer to inspect Frolic. “Is that the clockwork that can control the tower?”

“His name is Frolic,” Reg snapped. Once again the people in the room began talking in excited and nervous whispers. “Enough,” Reg finally shouted. “Tell us exactly what is going on here or we’re leaving.”

Dink showed them to a wooden bench beside the wall and all of them sat, except the faerie gentleman, who stood sneering with his arms crossed. Chair legs screeched against stone as the people assembled gave him a wide berth. “Many of us have noticed a change in the city over the past few months,” Dink explained. “The people have fallen into despair. They have no joy in their lives. They’re confused and afraid. I can’t say what is happening, but somehow he is sucking all of the life out of this place.”

“Who?” Querry asked. “Thimbleroy?”

“Fools,” the faerie said with a sardonic chuckle. “You’re missing the magic you claim to despise so much.”

“It is not just that,” Dink continued. “He has taken control of the tower and is using its power to destroy anyone who stands in his way. He’s purchased several factories and is building those horrible clockwork men by the dozens. We have sabotaged them several times, but they are repaired again in days. Some of the stories I have heard—the stuff of nightmares!”

“How?” Querry dared.

“The way the clockworks are built, I have heard, is from things beside metal and gears. Living things, some say. We are among those citizens who know he must be stopped.”

“So he’s managed to harness the power,” Kristof said, shaking his head. “And now he’s using the knowledge to build an army.”

“Who’s in charge here?” Querry asked.

“I am,” said a female voice. The woman, her face hidden by a hood like Kristof’s, stood up and approached the bench. “I was one of the first people he came after. My home was destroyed, and most of my staff and family killed. I only live because that monster thinks I perished.”

“And who are you?” Querry asked.

“Elaina, Duchess of Lisine.”

“My Lady,” Reg said, reaching for her hand. She pulled away before he could take it.

“What exactly happened?” Kristof asked. “What sort of magic did he use to attack you?”

With a trembling hand, she pushed her hood back. Querry and the others gasped. The entire left side of her face had been burned. The skin had healed in ghastly bumps and whorls. Missing flesh revealed her teeth, gums, and the entire orb of her eye. The hair on that side was gone, and on the opposite side it hung in white tangles. A stunted antler, like a young deer’s, protruded from her forehead. She opened her cloak and stretched out what had once been her left arm. It had been shortened by half, and ended in two long, black claws. A spine extended from her elbow and loose skin hung down in a horrifying suggestion of a wing. “At first I thought it was a storm. I saw flashes of light outside my bedroom window, heard the wind battering the house. Then the roof above me was torn away. Streaks of energy circled me, and strange things began to happen: plants growing from the walls, the furniture moving about as if alive. When that energy hit my body—” She pointed to her horrible deformities and looked away from the men.

“May I?” Kristof asked gently and stood. He carefully examined the duchess’s condition and then looked meaningfully at the gentleman. “He has no control over the magic. He can gather it and fling it about, but he has no means of directing or shaping it. This is evidence of magic gone haywire.”

“You’re a wizard?” the duchess asked, clutching Kristof’s lapel. “Can you put me back the way I was?”

“I don’t know,” he said sadly. “Unfortunately, I’m unable to even try until we can stop this man from draining all of the magic away and using it to do things like this.”

“I could do it,” Frolic said softly. “I could tell the angels to put you right. I could tell them to create beautiful things. We could make a paradise of this city.” He looked at Dink. “As lovely and peaceful and perfect as your menagerie.”

“Ah,
kinder
…,” the old man said.

“Have you gone to the queen?” Reg asked the duchess. “She’s always valued you as an advisor. What about the rest of the nobility? Certainly Thimbleroy is powerful, but he couldn’t possibly stand against all of them.”

“The nobility are of three minds,” the duchess explained. “I am ashamed to say that most of them have cast their lots on Thimbleroy’s side. They are cowards, too afraid to be his enemies if he should prevail. He’s succeeded in eliminating our kingdom’s greatest threat. Who could possibly defeat him as Grande Chancellor? The rest are even worse: doing nothing until they know for sure who will triumph. A few are standing with us, though not publicly.”

“I regret to inform that no one here is addressing the larger issue,” said a man with a slight accent. He pushed his way through the throng to stand beside the duchess. Querry’s breath caught in his throat when he recognized the strawberry-blond hair and pale eyes.

“You—” the thief sputtered, pointing.

“I’m afraid so,” the man said, removing his hat and pressing it to his chest in a theatrical bow. “As I was saying, I fear all of the fine ladies and gentlemen assembled here are missing the larger picture.”

“Such as?” Querry asked. “But wait. Who
are
you exactly?”

With a smile and a wink, the man bowed again. “Jean-Andre,” he said, offering Querry his hand.

“Jean-Andre what?”

“Jean-Andre will have to do for now, Mr. Knotte.”

“You’ve been following me,” Querry said, ignoring the Belvaisian’s hand. “Why?”

Jean-Andre sighed dramatically. “I was trying to keep you alive, sir. Not that you made it the least bit easy.”

“Why?”

“Because you possess the knowledge to operate the clock tower. That knowledge is very valuable, to many, many people.”

“Like who?”

“Who wouldn’t want the ultimate weapon? Who wouldn’t pay for it? Your Lord Thimbleroy knew its value. From the time he understood even the most rudimentary functions of that tower, he began taking offers from foreign sovereigns and wealthy mercenaries alike.”

“He planned to sell the knowledge?” Reg gasped.

Jean-Andre nodded. “During my time posing as a representative of the Belvaisian government, I witnessed many bids upon this information, from over a dozen different buyers. Money, it seems, remains the great motivator.”

“But, but that’s treason!” Reg continued. “He should be arrested! Do you have proof of this?”

“But of course,” Jean-Andre said.

“Just who are you working for?” Querry demanded.

“I am currently in the employ of your fair duchess,” Jean-Andre said. “She hired me to keep her informed of your Lord Thimbleroy’s activities. As I have been trying to tell you all along, the issue we face with the current clock tower is only the smallest sliver of the problem. Your Grande Chancellor sold plans to duplicate both the clockwork and the magic to at least a dozen different people. Before long, there will be another twenty towers here on your own soil, as well as those that are constructed in foreign lands. One man, and one tower, and one clockwork army we might defeat, but the knowledge of their construction will spread. I cannot imagine how many nations will have standing clockwork armies in the next decade.”

Dink shook his head and chuckled. “They will only get so far, for they cannot copy our Frolic,
nein
?”

“Well, not yet,” Jean-Andre said.

“I don’t understand what the problem is here,” the gentleman said, irritated. “Why doesn’t someone go to this tower, find this inept usurper and kill him? Querrilous, you must do it. Kill this man and bring me back his heart and his eyes so that I can crush them under my boot heel. As soon as you do, I’ll raze that silly tower to ash and scatter it on the wind. And anyone who’s aided in this blasphemy shall—”

“Destroy the angels?” Frolic gasped. “No!”

“I agree with him,” Querry said. “I’ll kill Thimbleroy. I’ll need weapons. Dink? I’ll need a way to reach the top of the tower and—”

“I am sorry to say that the government confiscated mein beautiful airship,” Dink lamented. “I can help you with the rest, though.”

“You’re going to need a lot more than weapons, mate,” said the man with the rifle, whom the others called Captain Saul. “Nobody can get anywhere near that place, on account of the storms.”

“Storms?”

“Aye, it storms almost constantly for a half a mile around that tower. Buildings have been destroyed and anybody who stays too long in the area, well—”

“They’re likely to end up like me,” the duchess said. “If not worse. Even those who escape physical injury are driven completely mad.”

“Most people cannot handle magical energy,” Kristof agreed. “I can scarcely imagine the impact it’s had on this Thimbleroy himself. He must be ’round the bend by now.”

“Aye,” said a Rajallah woman with a red scarf over her hair. “You wouldn’t believe the things he’s done! To others and even to himself.”

“The statues around the tower move on their own sometimes,” another man said. “They’re twisted, awful things now.”

Frolic, who’d been looking at his shoes with his elbows on his knees, lifted his head and said, “The magic is overflowing. The angels are drawing it in as they’re supposed to, but there isn’t anyone to tell them how or what to shape it into, so it’s just boiling up. Doing whatever it wants.”

“Uncontrolled magic is the most dangerous,” Kristof offered. “But it’s also magic. I may be able to do something with it if I can get close enough.”

“We’re going to need a solid plan,” Reg said. “And a lot of luck.”

“I can get you the equipment you’ll need,” Dink offered. “Lizard and I have been working hard to supply these good people. We have quite a store built up, and I’ve invented some useful new things.” His thick moustache fell with his face. “I hope one day I’ll not need to make weapons any longer. I long for a day when ingenuity and industry can be used for beauty instead of slaughter.”