Chapter 27 - The Kraken Gate
Na-Su wanted me to wait until James or Inigo could accompany me, but I was adamant; we needed those supplies as soon as possible. That meant that the message had to be sent to Harland and Coates immediately. I did heed her suggestion and took my trusty cutlass and a revolver with me. I was wearing an umber-coloured greatcoat which would partially conceal them. I was perfectly entitled to carry weapons, but it would be foolish to draw attention to myself.
I left for Lannerville in one of the estate’s two buggies.
The stable-master’s son was in the driving seat of the buggy. Jeremiah Curson was lean and tall with a mop of straw-coloured hair and although young, he had a capable air about him. When I told him I was in a hurry, he urged our horse to such a speed along the unmade road that we were both fair rattled to death by the time we got to Lannerville.
‘Who delivers coal to the estate, Master Curson?’
‘Rebett and Sons, ma’am. A large consignment every week. It used to be one per Meniah-cycle before Director Harman and his boffins began his work up here. My father and I had to help enlarge the coal sheds. We only found out what he’s building there two cycles ago. Some kind of tunnel to other worlds.’ Jeremiah rubbed his tousled hair. ‘I’ll be frank with you, ma’am, it sounds like utter nonsense to me. Do you think it will ever work?’
‘Well, the one in Emberly worked, Master Curson… that is until it blew up, so this one will probably be made to work too. It could be the most important invention in the whole history of Illesin, and if I’m right, the whole of Emberland will hear of it before too long.’
Jeremiah looked impressed, but suddenly remembered what he was supposed to be doing. ‘I’m sorry, ma’am. I got distracted. Where do you want to go?’
Would you take me to this coal merchant, Rebett and Sons, please? ’
Jeremiah nodded and twitched the reins. Soon we drew up outside a grimy coal depot. It was a sprawling, untidy affair. Several sheds lined the yard in various states of decomposition, black with dust. Mountains of coal stood in the centre, sprawling from a collection of sagging timber bays. We found the moustachioed manager who was happy to accommodate my request, coming as it did from the Lannerville Estate.
‘My best customer,’ he explained, enthusiastically and wiped his filthy hands on his trouser legs. ‘That’s no problem, ma’am. I will take delivery of the the goods when they arrive. No one will know we’re delivering anything but coal to the manor, you can be sure of that.’
I wrote his name and the company’s address into Na-Su’s note and took it to the post office which operated the only heliograph west of Kirsten.
As with post offices the world over, there was a long queue. Waiting my turn among the clerks and regular muck-tails made me nervous. There was no way of knowing who had followed us to Lannerville and whether anyone was watching. A couple of stout fellows had noticed me and taken interest, but that wasn’t unusual. Ladies in trousers still weren’t a common sight, even in the metropolitan capital. People were a tad more traditional out here in the boondocks. Sure there were some eccentric folk and I’d heard tell of a few female prospectors, but they were still something of a curiosity.
In any event, I reached the head of the queue and sat in the booth opposite the heliogram clerk. His large eyes scanned my note superciliously, counting the words. I paid for the transmission and he tapped the message out. Somewhere in the bowels of the post office, a shutter clacked away in front of an incandescent lamp and magnifying lens, allowing pulses of light to shoot down a thin glass conduit all the way back to the relay station in Kirsten.
‘A fabulous invention, that heliograph,’ said Jeremiah when I climbed back into the buggy. ‘My father told me that it all came about because a drunk noticed how the light travelled down the stem of his wine glass.’
I snorted. ‘My father used to say that all the great inventions can be attributed to drink, that which the parents of the inventor consumed, leading to the birth of their prodigy.’
Jeremiah laughed at that. ‘Where to now?’
‘Do you know where the courthouse is?’
‘I do ma’am. It’s on Second Street, one over from the station.’
‘Please take me there,’ I said, and settled back as Jeremiah tugged on the reins to turn the cart around.
‘Is that relating to the trouble you had on the way here?’
‘No, Master Curson, it’s on another matter.’
Seeing that I wasn’t going to elaborate, the stable-master’s son, drove in silence while I admired Lannerville’s little shops. They were all small, family-run businesses with pretty fronts, some selling fashions that were two years out-of-date. We traversed the town square, then passed some railings that bordered a pretty little botanical garden. The courthouse lay beyond the exotic trees and flora. I told Jeremiah to meet me in the same place in one bell, so he tethered the horse and buggy and headed back to a tavern we’d passed on the way there.
A series of small offices towards the rear of the courthouse proclaimed themselves to be relating to Civil Corrections, so I asked a nervous looking man in a faded suit where I might find the local office of the Ministry of Comportment. He raised an unsteady hand and waved his finger at a middle-aged, bespectacled woman two desks over. A half-smoked cigarette hung from her lower lip, smoke coiling up into the miasma that hovered near the ceiling.
I presented myself in front of the woman’s desk, but she ignored me for three or four turns while she stamped a set of documents. Finally, she looked up at me, lips pressed together in a thin white line of defensive officialdom. The sign on her desk read Miss. N. G. Ponson.
‘Do you have an appointment?’ Her voice was scratchy.
‘I’ve come to make an appointment.’
Miss Ponson looked displeased with this apparent loophole in her defensive strategy, so I pressed on, before she could deploy new armour.
‘You should have a letter from your Emberly office about the transfer of parole from them, to you here, for Inigo Forbes.’
‘Oh…that was your doing?’ She reached into a pile of papers that sat on the floor beside her and pulled out a fat folder which she dropped on her desk. Stubbing out her cigarette, she leafed through the top sheets with yellowed fingers and a sour expression on her face. After a few moments scrutiny, she lit another cigarette. She dragged down a couple of lungfuls of smoke while fixing me with her beady eyes and then opened a desk diary.
‘Mr. Forbes’ next appointment is due at three bells on Aripolday, eleventh cycle,’ she croaked. ‘That’s in ten days time. We can keep the same date. Does that suit you?’
‘It does. I’m very grateful. Thank you, Miss Ponson.’
‘Don’t miss it, and don’t be late.’ She pushed her chair back and took an extra long drag on her cigarette to make up for lost time.
I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d expected the Republic’s cumbersome bureaucracy to throw more asinine obstacles in my way. My good mood lasted until I’d made my way back to the spot that Jeremiah had parked the buggy. The stable master’s son wasn’t back from the tavern. Instead, a man in a disheveled suit with overly long trousers had the buggy under surveillance. He’d propped himself against a milliner’s shop and was pretending to read a cheap news rag, but the quick glance he made in my direction from under his flat cap was all I needed to understand his business. A quick scan of the street didn’t reveal any other watchers, but that meant nothing. The attack on the air-train had me worried, especially so for Jeremiah, who was neither trained for, or expecting trouble. I walked straight past the buggy towards the tavern that Jeremiah had pointed out.
The tavern was sandwiched between a gentleman’s outfitter and a carpenter’s workshop. Its sign read, ‘The Royal Retreat’. The black ironwood bracing and beams, crumbling mortar, and bullion glass windows spoke of an earlier age. The whole structure sagged slightly to one side, but had probably done so for the last two-hundred years. The front door was propped open, and through it came the standard raucous sound of the first Aripolday after payday.
The air inside was warm and thick with smoke. Two dozen tables and the alcoves that lined the wall were rammed with people. Jeremiah was at the bar conversing with young man about his age, and gesticulating with a half-full tankard. From his carefree laughter, it wasn’t his first drink.
‘There you are Master Curson!’
‘That didn’t take long, ma’am.’
I kept my voice low. ‘No. It’s a good thing too. We’ve got unwanted company. We have to go, now!’
Jeremiah’s smile faded. ’I haven’t finished my pint.’
‘I’ll refund you. Come on.’
Jeremiah put his unfinished drink down, said a quick farewell to his friend, and then followed me towards the door. We almost made it, but at the last moment it was blocked by a tall man in a long, mud-splashed raincoat. His coat made him look broad-shouldered, but his spindly legs told a different story. He probably wasn’t as old as his greying stubble made him look, and his demeanour suggested a familiarity with violence. He wasn’t carrying a sword which meant he wasn’t military, or ex-military, but the fact wasn’t particularly comforting as he would doubtless be packing a revolver and a couple of knives.
‘Stay behind me,’ I advised Master Curson. I pushed my greatcoat back, hooking it behind my cutlass and revolver. Speaking for the benefit of the man blocking our way out, I said, ‘We don’t want any trouble. Stand aside and no one will get hurt.’ When you’re dealing with thugs, it’s best to spell out the consequences. They rarely have enough imagination to see how they might be affected. I was keen to avoid violence. My throat and ribs still hurt from the fight with the Nallian in my home.
Behind us, the clientele made for the rear and sides of the tavern, eager to avoid becoming collateral damage, but I noticed that two of them weren’t following the crowd. They’d pushed their chairs back from a table near the bar and were sauntering towards us. They were dressed in labourers’ overalls. The sawdust on their boots led me to deduce they worked at a nearby sawmill. These four men were locals, hired by someone in a hurry, and with few options. In spite of their amateur status, I didn’t feel confident in my current state. One thing I was sure of was that Jeremiah and I needed to get out of the confines of the tavern.
‘What do these men want?’ asked Jeremiah, suddenly very sober.
‘I’m not really sure,’ I offered, ‘but my popularity seems greatly diminished since I began working for your employer.’
I drew my cutlass from its scabbard and pointed it at the man who was blocking the door. The move was calculated to be less provocative than drawing my gun. Whatever the intention of this crew was, they’d feel safe as long as they stayed out of range of my blade. With this in mind, I walked towards the door. Raincoat man retreated to keep himself a few hands away from sharp steel. I had a hunch these goons would be happy to get out in the open, away from all the witnesses inside. I stepped outside, followed closely by Jeremiah. The man in the raincoat pulled out a revolver and moved a short distance along the pavement. The two men behind us slunk out of the tavern door. They also drew their own, tarnished weapons. If the one in the baggy trousers who’d been watching the buggy joined them, it would be four against two.
‘How much were you paid?’ I tried. ‘I’ll offer you double to walk away.’
The man in the raincoat laughed, exposing tombstone teeth and a gold cap. ‘You haven’t that much money on you missy. Besides, we gotta think of our reputations. When you take a contract, you oughta see it through.’
The situation was deteriorating. I struggled to see where it would go from here, other than downwards. Still holding my cutlass out in front of me, I unholstered my revolver and passed it carefully behind me to the stable master’s son.
‘Know how to use one of these?’
‘Sure,’ he said. I heard him ease back the hammer.
‘Great! Just keep it pointed at the ground until the shooting starts. Make sure you get behind that drinking trough on the other side of the street before you start shooting back. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
The man in baggy trousers finally showed up and the men behind us finished manoeuvring into position. We had scant ticks before the bullets began to fly. I wished that I’d heeded Na-Su and brought one or two of the others with me. Raincoat thumbed back the trigger and took aim.
‘You there!’ came a shout that got everyone’s attention. ‘Halt, in the Name of the Republic!’ Captain Hanta-Kildair and his squad of soldiers were rounding the corner. Rifles which had been shouldered were immediately levelled in our direction. For a few heartbeats, the hired hitmen didn’t know what to do, then they fled down the alley beside the gentleman’s outfitters. The man in the raincoat was last to go, snatching a wild shot before he too whirled and disappeared around the corner.
The captain held his men in place, one arm held high.
‘Put the gun down on the ground, Master Curson, slowly now,’ I said, as I dropped my cutlass.
Jeremiah did as he was told. Captain Hanta-Kildair watched us warily for a few heartbeats and then stood his men down. He holstered his own pistol and approached, sergeant in tow. An audience was gathering now as customers disgorged from the tavern.
‘Ms. Derringer, isn’t it?’ he said with a frown. ‘Trouble seems to follow you about!’
‘Yes sir. It’s extremely vexing!’ I replied. ‘We entered this establishment for a quiet drink and those four men you saw threatened us, entirely unprovoked. I’m grateful you turned up when you did. Master Curson and I were genuinely in fear of our lives.’
‘I thought you were staying at the Harman place out of town.’
‘I am, Captain, and Master Curson is resident there, but I had some business to attend to in town.’
Captain Hanta-Kildair wasn’t impressed. He questioned us both for several turns and then spoke briefly to the bartender of ‘The Royale Retreat’.
‘Well,’ he said, finally. ‘I’m tempted to turn you over to the constabulary who are still in a lather about that incident on the air-train, but since no crime has been committed here, you’re free to go on your way. The fact that your cutlass is clean and the lad here fired no shots counts in your favour.’
‘Thank you, Captain. Did you recognise any of the men who were threatening us?’
‘I’m no local, Ms. Derringer. I’ve only been stationed here for two cycles. However, the barman says they’re from round here, local toughs, involved in protection rackets and such. For obvious reasons, he wasn’t inclined to give me their names.’
I thanked the captain again and picked up my weapons. Back at the buggy, Jeremiah twitched the reins and we headed out of the town. The sky was a bruise. Menacing, wintery clouds slid by overhead. There was a chill in the air that made me think of snow, and a stiff breeze lifted swirls of fallen leaves, blowing them across our path.
‘You did well, Master Curson. Nice and calm under pressure.’
‘Thank you ma’am,’ replied Jeremiah. ‘Will we be seeing those men again?’
‘I’m certain we will, Master Curson. They’ll want paying, and whoever sent them won’t pay until the job’s done.’
Jeremiah frowned and remained silent for the rest of the journey. We both kept a sharp lookout, but although nothing jumped out of the bushes at us, it wasn’t until we reached the gatehouse that I was able to relax.
A couple of turns later, we pulled onto the sweeping gravel driveway in front of the mansion to find a scene of chaos. While we'd been in town, the marines had arrived. Two-dozen soldiers were unloading bags and crates. They’d formed a human chain that disappeared inside and were passing their baggage along it. Lieutenant Scott was there too, giving encouragement and helping to get some the heavier items down from the carriages.
‘Ah, there you are!’ he exclaimed when he caught sight of me.
I thanked Jeremiah and climbed down from the buggy. He flicked the reins and the horse headed for the stables without further encouragement.
‘I thought you were hiding from me,’ said Benjamin.
‘I had business in town,’ I said, ‘but you should be trying to avoid me! I gather you put forward new security measures around the Koulomb Gate.’ I tried to keep my tone neutral, but as usual around Benjamin, acid managed to leak in around the edges.
‘I did,’ he replied. ‘Chancellor Gordon was most insistent that I take a look. You’ve done a very thorough job, Ms. Derringer, but I saw a couple of ways to improve things and shared my thoughts. What did you think of them?’
I gritted my teeth. ‘I have to look at the detail, Lieutenant, but they seem sensible, at first glance.’
‘Excellent! I’m happy to be of assistance. Oh, I almost forgot to ask…how was your journey here?’
I blinked. ‘You haven’t heard?’
‘Heard what?’
‘We were set upon by six men. The air-train was shot to pieces and we only escaped with our lives by leaving the carriages behind.’
‘Well that explains the notices and disruption back at the station. Draxil’s Wrath, are you alright? I see your neck is still bruised from the other attack.’
‘I’m fine,’ I said and tugged at the collar of the greatcoat self-consciously. ‘Na-Su Kamak is less well, though. She took a couple of bullets. She’s a tough one, but even so, it’ll be a couple of cycles before she’s holding a gun in both hands.’
Benjamin straightened up into what I’d called his pompous pose when we’d briefly been an item. ‘You needn’t worry. My marines are here now. We won’t let this happen again.’
I laughed in his face. I couldn’t help it. In truth, it was a joyful sound, at least it sounded that way to me. An outburst of real mirth at the preposterous nature of Benjamin’s arrogance.
My smile faded as I watched Benjamin’s face turn cold. He glared at me for a moment and then stalked off to see to the remainder of the unloading. Nice one, Connie! I thought. Good to see you haven’t lost your natural talent for offending people.
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