Boots for the Gentleman (16 page)

“So this is it,” Querry said. “The last I’ll ever see you.”

Frolic held his sides and rocked in his chair, looking like he might be sick. “The world is….” He frowned, thinking. “So complex. So unnecessarily sad. Why?” He looked back and forth from Querry to Reg. “Why?”

“I’m sorry,” seemed the only conclusion Reg could reach before disappearing through the double doors.

“Where will we go?” Frolic asked.

Querry went to the window but didn’t move the velvet drape. He stood staring at the floral pattern embossed in the moss-green, staring at the thick gold cords hanging on either side, trying to digest the reality of Reg’s loss, trying to stamp down that inner voice that screamed to go after him, make him understand. Frolic touched his back, his hand warm through the thin silk of the robe. Frolic needed him now; his pain would have to wait. He cleared his throat and said, “Well, I’m going to need new gear. Clothes that fit me. And then we can go wherever you want. What do you say, the Aurient? Bravelstein or Belvais? One of the colonies?”

“We have to get it back.”

“Which?”

“The book that tells about me,” Frolic said.

“We won’t need it,” Querry told him with a wave of his hand. “We’ll go so far off that they’ll never find us. They won’t be able to use the information against you.”

“That’s not why I need it.” Panic crept into Frolic’s voice as he forced himself into the small space between Querry and the window. “I need to know why I was made. You say it doesn’t matter, but it matters to me. I can’t go the rest of my time wondering. I need to know. Please, Querry.”

“It’ll be dangerous, going right to the men who are trying to find us.”

“But we’ll manage, won’t we? Won’t we, Querry?”

“I can’t tell you no,” said the thief with a smile. “I’ll squeeze into these clothes, then, and we’ll be off. Go and fetch your sword. I’m afraid you might need it.”

D
INK
’
S
shop was on the opposite end of the city, at the edge of the factory district, and getting there required the better part of the evening of dashing from one alley to the next, praying they wouldn’t be spotted. As they crested a hill, Querry glanced over at his companion. Frolic’s eyes grew wide. It was a common reaction; Dink’s place was pretty impressive. The tiny storefront itself looked like any other junk shop, although it extended several stories below ground. The yard that stretched around it for several blocks on three sides drew the attention. It was like a city unto itself: paths wound among heaps of rubble that looked like exotic towers and turrets beneath the glow of sporadic lampposts.

“Oh my,” Frolic breathed.

“Acres of raw materials,” Querry answered. “I spent a lot of time here as a kid when I needed a break from picking pockets. And in between being carted back off to the workhouse. Dink employs an army of orphans and urchins to salvage parts from all over the city. Has what you might call a mansion below that shop, does old Dink. Enough room to house and feed at least twenty kids, plus workshops, a shooting range and a couple of floors no one but Dink knows for sure what’s on them.”

“And he’ll help us?” Frolic wondered aloud.

“If anyone will help us, it’s old Dink. I never had parents, but Dink was pretty close. He taught me to read and all about clockwork. He taught me to shoot and to handle a sword. Come on. He’s going to love you.”

“Me?”

“Of course,” Querry said. “You’re the ultimate clockwork. But don’t let on. Let’s see if he figures it out.”

Frolic’s face broke into a big smile. “A surprise? Sure, Querry! This will be fun!”

Q
UERRY
opened the door slowly, listening for the tinkle and rattle of pipes and gears bouncing on the string that warned Dink if anyone entered the store. Frolic followed, eyes wandering over walls covered with every manner of salvaged material, just as the grounds outside had been. The difference being the things inside the shop gleamed like jewels.

“Dink only keeps the cream of the crop in here,” Querry informed his companion. “You can make some fantastic finds out in the yard as well, but in here Dink’s done the work for you.” There was a clattering from the back of the store behind the small counter. Frolic looked toward the small door, curtained with tiny copper rings. A raspy voice drifted from beyond. A gnarled, shaky hand emerged from one side of the curtain and slowly pushed it aside. Then a stooped figure in huge spectacles with many lenses almost completely obscured by bushy, white eyebrows shuffled out into the room. The old man held a cane with tiny mechanical legs that propelled it and the man’s hand forward. A sculpted tortoise head topped the cane. The man wore a smoking jacket over his humped back, giving him the impression of a large, paisley turtle. He pulled a number of gadgets on chains from various pockets of the smoking jacket.

“Eh?” The sound ruffled the fluffy, white mustache on the old fellow’s upper lip. “
Vas
? What can I help you vith?” the old man managed to ask, through gasps of air.

“Dink!” Querry threw open his arms. “What have you been up to, you old sod?” The man looked at Querry, his eyes opening with surprise, then disappearing into deep creases as the mouth beneath the mustache broke into a huge grin.

“Querrilous Knotte!” Dink exclaimed, all traces of rasp and exertion gone. “I might ask you ze same thing! You’ve been stirring up a lot of trouble, ja?” In one deft movement the old man straightened up, slipped out of the smoking jacket, and to Frolic’s surprise, the hump as well. He fairly leapt the space between him and Querry to embrace the younger, taller man, while his stick dutifully walked itself over next to the counter and out of the way, its necessity over.

Querry turned to Frolic, one arm still across the old man’s shoulders. “Frolic, this is Terrapin Dinklundsmiter, one of the foremost authorities on everything clockwork and purveyor of junk.” The old man walked toward Frolic with his hand out. When Frolic didn’t offer his own hand, Dink took it and pumped twice, warmly but firmly.

“Dink, this is Frolic.”

“Hello, Herr Dinklundsmiter. Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Frolic said with a smile.

“Ja. But all mein friends just call me Dink, and any friend of Querry’s is a friend of mine so I will expect you to do the same. None of this ‘Herr Dinklundsmiter’, ja?” Dink said, taking Frolic’s measure over the top of his outlandish spectacles.

Frolic considered for a moment, and then a big, beaming smile lit his face, and he exuberantly exclaimed, “Ja!”

“
Zer gut
. Now, my boys.” Dink clapped his hands together, “I will close up shop, and we’ll go downstairs and get a bite to eat.” With that he bounded to the door, locked a series of intricate locks similar to those in Querry’s old apartment, flipped the sign, and dashed through the little room and behind the curtain. He slid open the door on a mechanized lift. “
Schnell!
Ve have much to discuss, I think!”

Querry followed Dink into the lift. Frolic looked at the interior apprehensively, but was forced quickly inside by a nudge from the walking stick, which had decided to join them. With the little group safely in the car, Dink pulled a chain, cranked a gleaming brass lever, and punched a button. The lift zipped below ground.

Chapter Seven

Q
UERRY
held his stomach as he shakily disembarked the lift. Dink strode out, unfazed and followed by his walking stick. Frolic leaned against the railing, before deciding it was safe to exit the lift. They found themselves on the cafeteria level: a large room filled with numerous mismatched tables, chairs and benches. The smell of freshly cooked food greeted their noses.

“Mmmm.” Querry’s eyes closed as he sniffed the air, “Dink, is that your root vegetable stew?”

“
Ja.
” Dink’s voice came from the kitchen, where clanging and clicking could be heard. Frolic wandered over to see what Dink was up to. Querry knew the little clockwork would be fascinated; Dink’s kitchen was almost completely automated. Gears and steam engines covered the walls, while mechanical arms chopped ingredients, stirred pots and washed dishes. Querry had seen it many times, therefore his attention was drawn to a small group of boys sitting in one corner of the room. He wandered over to assess Dink’s newest batch of scavengers.

“Hello, lads,” he said, approaching the table with a smile. The boys had laid waste to the meal before them and were making a plan of attack for their next outing. They paused to look at Querry. There were five boys, all dressed similarly in the garb of the standard street urchin: woolen breeches, suspenders and simple, button-up shirts. Their oversized outer coats draped the backs of their chairs. Two of the boys wore driving caps, and one a bowler pulled down over one eye. Who Querry assumed was the head boy wore a pair of driving goggles perched in his messy mane of blond hair and stood to greet him, a toothpick gnashed between his teeth.

“All right, mate,” the boy said suspiciously. “And ’ow can we help you?”

“Name’s Querrilous Knotte. Querry for short. Used to be a scavenger myself not so very long ago.”

“That so?” The boy relaxed a little and offered his hand. “Pleased to meet’cher. I’m Lizard. This here’s my crew: Sticky Pete, Tobias, Jimmy the Fingers, and Mike-Mike.” Each boy nodded as he was introduced. “There’s a thief what everyone seems keen to find by the name o’ Knotte. Any relation?” Lizard narrowed his eyes slightly. It was Querry’s turn to be suspicious.

“Who’s everyone?” Querry asked, avoiding the question.

Lizard shrugged. “Ain’t fer me t’know. Not our business, anyways. Our business is scavenging, ain’t it? We don’t stick our noses where they don’t belong, do we boys?” The others muttered their agreement, and Querry walked back to where Dink had set two steaming bowls of stew.

“Interesting little group you’ve got there, Dink,” Querry said, taking the seat across from the old man.

“They are very good at what they do. And they look out for each other. Eat, ja? It looks like you could use the nourishment.” Dink indicated Querry’s bowl with his own spoon. Smiling, Querry began to eat, the food just as good as he remembered. Dink took a bite of his own stew and then went on, quietly, “So. Zis Frolic.” Querry looked up. “Ja. I am not so old just yet,
jungen
.” He paused, looking toward the kitchen, where Frolic was adjusting the tension on one of the mechanical arms. “
Mein Gott
. He is a beautiful piece of work.”

“I know.” Querry kept his voice hushed as well.

“And he seems sentient. He has feelings, ja. Emotions.”

“He does. He’s incredible. And complete. He has everything, down to the finest detail.”

“Amazing. And I am to assume you did not make him?”

“No.” Querry tore a piece of bread and dipped it in the stew. “I found him. In a hidden chamber in a house that—” Querry paused to eat the sopping piece of bread and give himself time to think of what to say, because Dink, like everyone else, disapproved of his work with the faeries—“one of my clients gave me the address of.”

Dink made a clucking noise with his tongue. “The faerie, ja?” Querry didn’t answer. He couldn’t lie to Dink, so he looked deep into his soup. “I won’t lecture you. Although I wonder what he has to gain from this.” Dink mulled it over for a moment. “No matter at this point. What do you need from me? Weapons I assume. And it looks like you have lost your work clothes also.”

“I have a little money, and I can get more.” Dink waved Querry’s offer away.

“You don’t worry about it. The opportunity to see this miracle of a clockwork is payment enough. Use whatever you need. But first, finish your stew. I have been working on something in my spare time that I want you to see.” Dink’s eyes sparkled at the prospect. “And I think Frolic will like it as well.” Querry looked at the old man beaming across from him. “You found him in a secret chamber, you say?” Dink’s countenance grew darker.

“That’s right. Why?”

“Maybe nothing. Maybe”—his mind seemed to wander—“something.” Dink shook himself. “Finish. Finish. I can’t vait to show you!” The excitement returned to Dink’s eyes, and Querry decided not to push him for the moment, though it was obvious that something about Frolic’s discovery struck a chord with the old man, and Querry was determined to find out what that chord was.

A
FTER
another unsettling ride in Dink’s lift, the group exited on a floor Querry had never been on, and couldn’t therefore be sure how deep beneath the shop it lay. Dink hopped out. Querry stood aside to let Frolic pass and noticed that the walking stick was now following the clockwork boy and even, it appeared, nuzzling his hand with its handle. Dink stood before a doorway that was ornately decorated with gilded wrought copper with intricate swirls, fleur-de-lis, and other strange design elements that Querry couldn’t name. Above the doors, in a script that was barely readable with its many accents and flourishes, was the word Menagerie.

“You’ve got a zoo down here?” Querry asked, wondering why and how Dink had acquired animals to keep below ground.