Chronicles of Steele: Raven 3: Episode 3 (7 page)

Marietta
shook her head and smiled wider. “Alchemy is usually so simple that it’s
amazing that the common man doesn’t use it on a daily basis. Of course they
can’t, since all magic takes its toll on the user.”

“You’ve
said that before. What sort of price does the Wood Witch pay for what she’s
doing now to the young baron?” Raven’s stomach growled, and she picked up her
bowl. She spooned a portion into her mouth. It was a little salty, but as a
beggar, she couldn’t be choosy.

Marietta’s
face turned grave. “Any time a witch takes another’s life, she loses a bit of
her soul. It starts her on a track of bad decisions, where she becomes unable
to redeem her ways. If she continues that route, it will shorten her life.”

Part
of Raven felt smug. The purpose of redemption for each life a reaper took was
to keep from going down that road. But another part of her felt guilty again.
Wasn’t the feeling of smugness part of the pride she’d amassed, evidence that
she was not the humble servant she was supposed to be? Could her father be
proud of her as she was now?

Grant
frowned and set his spoon into his empty bowl on the table. “So are you saying
the Wood Witch is not an old woman? We saw her, and she appeared to be at least
seventy.”

Marietta’s
eyes were sad, and she shook her head. “The Wood Witch is only a few years
older than me, thirty-five at the oldest.”

Raven
gasped, and almost choked on the spoonful she’d just put in her mouth.
Thirty-five? She swallowed hard. “So why does she keep doing this? If she’s
aging at such an incredible rate, how can she determine it’s worth the price?”

After
a shrug, Marietta began collecting the men’s empty bowls. “Power is a consuming
thing. Once you have a taste of it, you keep trying to get another. It’s a
vacuum. What once gave you a great thrill diminishes with each passing day. You
must have more in order to maintain the same level. I also think she must be
chasing the present dream of the alchemist. We used to try to turn lead into
gold. Now our goal is to create life eternal without God, heaven, hell, or even
death.”

Rupert
narrowed his eyes at the woman as she clattered the bowls into the kitchen
sink. “Death is more certain than anything on earth. It cannot be cheated. As
for the rest, it is mere speculation.”

She
turned from the sink and smiled at him, holding up a finger. “If you spend much
time in the study of alchemy, you become certain of many things the common man
finds mere speculation. After all, who discovered the elements but the
alchemist? You can neither see nor sense an atom in any way, but you know it
exists because the alchemist says so.”

Rupert
rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. “Science holds more
irrefutable evidence than religion.”

She
shrugged and stepped toward the table. “Who said anything about religion? I’m
talking about science. Alchemists know the existence of the soul—we’ve
experimented on the moment of death. There is a portion of the human which
appears to live on…to exist after the body has taken its last breath.”

Raven
shivered at the thought.

“Ghosts?”
Rupert retorted with a smirk.

Exasperated,
Marietta gestured toward the ceiling. “Could be. Who am I to say? My
interpretation of the evidence might be different from yours, but we’ll all
find out someday, right? The alchemists who chase after eternal life in the
same manner as the ones who chased after gold will draw the same conclusion.
Impossible.”

Monroe
stood and stretched, making a big production of yawning. “Well, thank you for
the pleasant meal and for your generous hospitality. However, I believe we
should all get some rest. The morning will be upon us faster than we imagine.”

Colton
stood and nodded in agreement. After he yawned, it became apparent that
Monroe’s affliction infected other members of the party.

Without
a word, Marietta headed for the spiral staircase. “One at a time on this old
thing, if you please. I don’t know if it will hold the weight of two to three
full grown men.”

Like
gentlemen, the three guardsmen motioned for Raven to start up the staircase
first. To her relief the black painted steel steps felt solid to her foot and
the banister didn’t sway. She and Marietta waited at the top of the stairs, in
a long hall of doors. Another spiral staircase headed up at the opposite end of
the hallway. If someone had been on the third floor, they’d have to run down
the expanse of the narrow way to make it to the next set of stairs down. It
made logical sense that from the fourth floor, the same sort of building
pattern would occur. Going up or down from floor to floor would be an arduous
task.

Four
large bedrooms occupied the space on the second floor. Two bathrooms with
indoor plumbing sat across the hall from each other in the center of the
hallway. Marietta began assigning bedrooms. “I’m offering Raven to stay with
me, as she’s the only female. The four of you may determine two each per room
if you’d like. My fourth bedroom is a workspace and there’s no mattress in it.”

Raven
kept herself from sighing at the thought of attempting to sleep in the same
room with this woman. The alchemist prattled so much she might keep Raven up
all night with her constant small talk. Grant and Colton started for the room
across the hall. Rupert and Monroe headed for the one next door. Both the older
reaper and Grant questioned her with their eyes if she’d be all right. Raven
gave a slight nod, took a deep breath, and headed into the powdered and
perfumed bed chamber of the alchemist.

Take every
opportunity to prepare. Take in one's whole surroundings.
Never be caught off guard.

T
HE MOMENT SUNLIGHT entered the
room he shared with Colton, Jack woke. But it wasn’t just the light that woke
him. The factory across the street had begun its daily production, polluting
the room with the sound of hammering, cranking, and other mechanicals. He
continued to lie on the straw-stuffed floor mattress, watching the golden hued
light come in through the window and the puffs of black smoke drilling into the
sky from the smoke stacks.

Stiffness
kept him from moving with agility as he pushed himself off the bed. Colton
still lay asleep under the rough canvas blanket they’d used. After standing,
Jack straightened his waistcoat that had twisted in the night, one of the many
downsides of sleeping fully clothed. He peered through the window to the street
below. Not much movement on the dead-end factory road.

The
morning grind of the factories continued their steady noise, becoming more tolerable
as he grew accustomed to it. He drew his belt tight and checked his pistol
before returning it to his holster. Stretching helped him loosen the tightness
in his muscles, but a walk would be beneficial as well. Because of the solidly
built floors in the converted factory, Jack had no fear of waking Colton as he
made for the door. He turned the handle slowly and stepped into the hallway.
Shadows cast the narrow space darker than the room had been. The windows faced
north and south and didn’t have the direct sunlight pouring in. He started for
the downward spiral staircase and continued his quiet exit to the street.

Outside
the noise had grown exponentially, and the smells of smoke and salty air
combined to almost choke him. Underlying them, a faint but pleasant odor of
baking bread made his stomach growl. He started toward the river first. The
sharp drop-off from the street to the water made him feel dizzy when he leaned
against the railing.

Across
the half-mile wide river, the city of Ipswich woke. Faint shouts and the
peculiar drone of a fishmonger auctioneer carried across. Steam-powered tugs
pulled boats into the harbor, occasionally tooting their horns.

The
smell of the bakery called him. Jack stretched again and walked through the
narrow alley to the other side of the factory with two billowing smokestacks.
It seemed to be the only factory in close vicinity that started work so early.
The mortar between the bricks of the building varied between black and grey
depending on its proximity to a chimney. Hugging the side of the building, he
skirted along the ledge between it and the river.

The
next street over bustled with foot traffic and carriages. Instead of it being a
dead end like Marietta’s street, it led to a bridge over the river. At first,
the vendors and the flurry of activity distracted Jack. With a shake of his
head, he focused at the store fronts below each factory to see what each
manufactured and sold.

The
smoke stacks of the building he’d been watching belonged to a canning factory.
Kippers and fish- paste cans filled the front window in a triangle formation.
Across the street, Jack spied the little bakery open to the public and strode
over to order for the group’s breakfast.

With
the push of the shop door, the bell overhead jingled. Immediately, the smells
of fresh baked goods assailed Jack. He stepped up to the line and stood behind
two other customers. The glass cases were set in an “L” shape and displayed a
bevy of pastel iced confections. A jovial baker took orders in a booming voice
with a smudge of flour on his cheek. His cheer made Jack smile. Rupert would
have hated it—never a morning person, that one.

When
he’d finally stepped up to the counter, Jack had made his choices. “Could I
procure two Ipswich sweet loaves, a dozen of your freshest hardtack, and a half
dozen of your iced sugar biscuits, please?”

The
door to the back kitchen swung open, and a girl stepped out with her apron in
flames. A high pitched squeal emanated from the girl though her mouth remained
closed. Jack didn’t hesitate, and before the baker could turn around, he’d
darted around the counter. He ripped his oilskin coat from his shoulders and
wrapped it around her, patting out the fire. She continued to bear a terrified
look of horror frozen on her face.

“Are
you all right?” he asked as he pulled his jacket away and looked at her torso
for injury, but found none.

The
girl held her hands in front of her. Skin melted from the thumb of her right
hand, exposing the brass bones and joint underneath. Another automaton. Jack blinked
hard. These unusual creations seemed prevalent in Ipswich but he’d never seen
one in New Haven.

“Thank
you so much, sir.” The jovial baker patted him on the shoulder. “She often gets
a little too close to the fires of the kiln. I’d let her run the front, but her
twitches cause some customers discomfort.”

“Twitches?
She’s a prototype?”

“Of
course. Is there any other kind of Catlett automaton?”

“Catlett?”

The
baker narrowed his eyes at Jack. “Yes, the company that manufactures ’em?”

Jack
shrugged his shoulders back into his coat. “I’m sorry, but I’m from New Haven.
I’ve never seen a Catlett Automaton before my arrival in Ipswich.”

After
a knowing nod, he slapped Jack on the back once more and chuckled. “Of course!
I’m going to throw in another loaf for your help, young man. You likely saved
me a bundle. She’s an older model, but I see no reason to upgrade, yet.”

“Thanks,”
Jack said and returned to the other side of the counter. “Much appreciated.”

The
bell rang over the door announcing the entrance of another customer. A woman
and two children entered. With a hand on each shoulder, the baker directed the
automaton back to the kitchen once more. The look of horror remained frozen
over the mechanical woman’s face like a mask. After a moment, the baker returned
with the three loves in a parcel. He reached into his glass case, removing the
biscuits and hardtack. “I’m giving you a full dozen of these, as well. I am
obliged to your quick thinking.”

Jack
shook his head. “Thank you. Also, do you mind telling me where the Catlett
Automaton factory is?”

The
baker straightened and set another sack upon the counter. “Of course. It’s
across the river, in main Ipswich. If you go across this bridge, it’s not more
than a kilometer down the street.” He smiled wider and said, “That’ll be two
coppers, if you please.”

Jack
nodded and handed him one New Haven gold piece.

With
a hesitant hand, the baker took the piece, his eyes wide. “Wow, you are
certainly from New Haven.”

“Yes,
sir, and keep the change.” Jack turned from the door and nearly ran into one of
the two rug rats who were pawing at the glass cases.

The
petite young woman tipped her head in a half curtsey. Her delicate features and
accent betrayed her French background. “Pardon my children, monsieur.”

“No
problem, madam.” Jack skirted around the threesome and started for the door. He
couldn’t help but wonder if the woman was human. How many of the people he’d
run into in Ipswich might have been automatons rather than humans? The thought
of it made him shiver.

Raven
had hardly slept. Marietta snored. The constant noise coming from her open,
drooling mouth kept Raven from ever getting anywhere near restful, deep sleep.
Still she remained in the bed until the room gained the white hue of early
morning. The witch rolled over, and the snoring finally ceased.

With
a sigh, Raven pulled herself inch by inch from the mattress. She gathered her
things with as much stealth as possible. There was no purpose in rousing the
witch any earlier than necessary. After a quick glance about the room, she
turned the handle slowly.

The
light in the hallway shone a little brighter than it had been in her west-
facing room. She didn’t feel good about exploring the city, and since the first
floor had no windows, Raven opted to head for the roof. The unnecessarily long
zigzag trek made her ready for some exercise. On the fourth floor, she found no
spiral staircase and no window on the end–instead she found a door. Curiosity
had never been a fault with her. She had no interest in trying any of the
closed doors in the halls on the way up, but this one she opened.

It
led to a small staircase. At the top, a heavy metal trap door with a bar across
it blocked her path. She moved the bar aside and heaved against the rusted
door. The hinges protested with a squeal, but at this height, Raven did not
fear waking any of the downstairs' inhabitants.

The
trapdoor opened to a corrugated copper roof. Raven nodded and pushed herself up
on the gently sloping metal. The ice cold copper chilled her hands, but she
ignored the cold and sat on the slope. Black smoke filled the otherwise clear
sky in two columns from the factory across the street. The muted light
reflected off the burnished surface on which she sat. To her right, the river
rippled in golden waves. A cold wind blew the hair from her neck, and she
smiled. The icy chill refreshed and revitalized her.

Once
she felt accustomed to the slope of the roof, she pushed herself slowly to a
standing position. The view from the building would have been a complete circle
save the factory across the street. She started toward the peak. Her cobbler
had scored the wooden sole on her boots with a pattern that gave her reasonable
grip on the slick surface. She reached the peak and set her feet on the narrow,
rounded edge. The surface reminded her of the balance board her father had
taught her to use back home. After a few deep breaths, she began to practice
her martial arts.

She
continued her exercise until the sweat beaded on her forehead. The sun reached
high enough in the sky, she knew the crew in the building could no longer be
asleep. She sat on the edge of the roof and slid down the copper, using her
feet to keep herself from sliding too quickly. At the trap door, she let  her
feet dangle for a moment before she lowered herself to the top step below.

After
closing and latching the trapdoor, she started down the stairs and along the
zigzag of the hallways. On the second floor, nothing stirred. She continued to
the first floor, where the bustle of conversation and cutlery welcomed her.

“Ah,
there she is,” Monroe announced with a smile when her heel clicked against the
first step of the spiral staircase.

The
group of men was at the table in all four chairs while Marietta moved about the
kitchen. She lifted a plate in Raven’s direction and smiled. “Here you are,
dear. If you’ve never had Ipswich Sweet Loaf, you’re in for a treat.”

Grant
and Colton both bolted to their feet, each offering their chair to her. Colton
sat nearer to her entry, so she took his chair with a nod of thanks. Grant
remained standing. He leaned against the back of his chair and grinned at her.
“We were wondering where you might have been.”

The
group stared at her. She glared back at them and then down at the bread on the
plate in front of her. “I found a quiet place and did some training.”

Monroe
stood and nodded with approval. “As you should.”

Because
Raven was last at the table, she rushed through her meal. The sweet loaf tasted
warm and light, comforting like a hug. But instead of savoring each bite, she
shoveled it all down. The bell rang at the door, and Marietta rushed toward it,
followed closely behind by all three guardsmen. Only Monroe stayed with her in
the kitchen. His eyes sparkled as he smiled. “On the roof?”