The Dead Gentleman (14 page)

“Huh,” I said. “Doesn’t really rhyme, though, does it?”

“It’s not supposed to,” answered the boy. “It’s a creed. Like a motto? It’s not a poem.”

“Still, seems like it should rhyme.”

“Look, I know that you’re new around here, but people are already talking about you. So, if I could offer you a bit of advice …” The boy left his words unfinished as he spotted someone approaching from afar. Growing suddenly serious, he spoke next in a harsh whisper.

“Blast! Here comes Harper! Careful what you say around him.”

“What? Who’s Harper? And who are you?” I asked.

“The Captain asked me to look after you. Now look sharp!”

A tall, gaunt man in a stovepipe hat was striding across the floor toward us. He was smiling, but there was nothing reassuring about that grin. He reminded me of the oh-so-pleasant privateers who prowled the dockside bars looking for drunks to kidnap into service. Many a man had passed out in the wrong tavern and woke up scrubbing decks at sea.

“So, you must be the boy everyone’s talking about,” said the man. “Congratulations! The value of the artifact you have retrieved for us is beyond measure.”

“The artifact?” I asked.

“The bird.” The man smiled. “A clockwork canary. It was stolen from the Academy some time ago, but we’re pleased to hear that it’s been returned.”

“Really? You mean Merlin, that clunky thing?” I said, thinking of poor, waterlogged Merlin back in the ship. Truth was, we hadn’t returned him at all. And Scott seemed keen on keeping the bird as far away from this place as possible. But until I knew a little more about this fellow, I saw no need to correct his facts.

“My name is Harper,” the man continued. “I sit on the Council of Officers, so on behalf of the Society let me say thank you.”

“Oh,” I said. “You’re welcome. But it wasn’t much, really. Just lifted it from a dead-looking gent in a carriage. He had some muscle there, too, but they weren’t any bother.”

I felt myself puffing up a bit, but I couldn’t help it. The attention felt good.

“Death cultists,” Harper said, nodding. “Grave Walkers, no doubt.”

“Eh, whatever. They just looked like a couple of thugs to me. They weren’t all rotted like their boss.”

The spectacled boy spoke up. “The Grave Walkers are at least partly human. Normal people who’ve given in to the Gentleman’s power.”

“Well, like I was saying,” I went on, annoyed at the kid for interrupting my story. “I ditched them, no problem. But then there were these other things—in the shadows, like. I kept ahead of them for most of two weeks. ’Course, then I ran into that Duke, and the Captain helped out a bit, but I was doing all right on my own, I suppose.”

“Remarkable,” said Harper, quietly.

“Sounds like you interrupted a handoff,” said the boy. “Those cultists were handing the artifact, eh, Merlin, over to the Gentleman. You might have just saved the world, you know that?”

The man Harper waved the suggestion away. “Let’s not exaggerate. Tommy’s actions were certainly brave, but I don’t think the consequences of one stolen mechanical bird were quite so dire.”

“Indeed they were,” said a familiar booming voice from behind us. “They could not have been
more
dire!”

Scott had returned. He still hadn’t had a chance to dry off, however, and he looked a bit sad. Harper was neatly dressed, while the soggy Captain smelled of seaweed. Scott seemed every bit as out of place here as I did.

“Captain Scott,” said Harper. The man was no longer even pretending to smile. “Of course we can count on you to ratchet up the histrionics, yet again. The Council is grateful to you and the boy for delivering our stolen property. But you realize you had an appointment with us early this morning. You’re late.”

At the mention of stolen property I gave Scott a look, but he ignored it. We’d technically delivered Merlin—but we’d delivered him back to the
Nautilus
, not the Academy.

“I ran into a bit of a detour,” said Scott. “I rescued young Mister Learner here from a particularly nasty bridge troll and that put us behind schedule. We had a further incident near the Lemuria Outcropping …”

“Well, that explains the state of your dress! The Outcropping is dangerous!” said Harper. “Gorge krakens still hunt there.”

“You know,” Scott said, hiking up his wet britches, “I’ve never given much credence to that kraken theory. Lemuria’s too big to be swallowed by a single beast.”

Harper cocked his head, ever slightly to one side. “Really? How’s the
Nautilus
?”

“Nearly swallowed,” said Scott definitively. “By a kraken.”

Harper started to speak, but Scott cut him off. “But it was a
Nautilus
-swallowing-sized kraken. And the beast could barely manage that!”

“The point is that you shouldn’t have been there in the first place,” said Harper, pointing his finger at the Captain. “You risked your own life, and this boy’s life, while doing god knows what
damage to your ship and
still
you arrived late! You only narrowly avoided a first-class bungle. Again.”

“I was out
there
, Harper! Exploring! That’s what we do, or have you all forgotten?”

“You dare …?”

The Captain ignored Harper’s outrage. “Listen to me. The Gentleman is trying to make his way into the Earth. I’ve gotten information that very nearly confirms it. I spoke to a refugee Lubber Fiend—”

“A Lubber Fiend? You’re going to bring the testimony of a milk-thieving chimney haunter before the Council? You may cry wolf all you want but I can tell you what they’ll say—the Gentleman presents no immediate threat to us. The soulless undead cannot walk our Earth for long, you know that. They cannot abide the light of our sun. Therefore he’s merely a nuisance, and the Council will treat him as such.”

“Then the Council is made up of a bunch of old fools,” said Scott. “You’re too in love with your rules and your books to see the danger all around us! I demand to see the High Father. Perhaps he’ll listen to reason.”

Harper smiled. “Do you honestly expect to be admitted to the High Father’s Inner Chamber in the state you’re in? Perhaps, if you clean up
and
make an appointment, I might be able to pull some strings and get you in for a few minutes. That is, if you’ll kindly hand over the bird.
Now
.”

Harper held out his hand expectantly, as if the Captain had Merlin stuffed in his pocket.

“I’m afraid not,” said the Captain. There was a set to Scott’s chin that I’d seen before. It was an expression that I’ve worn myself more than a few times—he was gearing for a fight.

“I beg your pardon?” said Harper. “The artifact belongs here, where we can keep it safe! It’s been stolen once—”

“Right out from under the noses of you and your precious Council,” said Scott. “Something big is brewing. The Gentleman’s got plans for that little bird, and if not for our dumb luck and the bravery of one young street thief, we’d be seeing that plan come to fruition.”

“Surely, you trust the Council to keep it safe,” said Harper.

Now it was the Captain’s turn to put a finger in Harper’s face.

“I trust exactly
three
of the four of us present, and not a one of your stubborn Council. You have your heads in the sand, all of you! And if you insist on denying me access to the High Father, then I’ll be on my way. With the arti—er,
Merlin
!”

For an instant I thought the spindly Harper might actually strike the Captain. Indeed, Scott looked braced and almost eager for just that. But the moment passed, and Harper adjusted his tall hat and looked down the bridge of his nose at me instead.

“Good luck to you then, boy. Traveling with Captain Scott can be a hazardous proposition. Just ask any of his former apprentices—if you can find one alive, that is.”

Then Harper turned and stalked away, careless of the many eyes now watching us. We’d created a bit of a scene.

As Scott watched the man leave, his eyes turned distant once again, unfocused. He looked as if the air had been let out of him along with his anger. Whatever he was thinking about now, it was worlds away. “We should go,” he said absently. “We’re not welcome here anymore.”

Then he turned and started out the tower door.

Before I could follow, the spectacled boy stepped up next to me and held out his hand. I had forgotten all about him.

“Bernard Billingsworth, Apprentice Explorer Second Class,” he said. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Er, likewise,” I said, trotting off after the Captain.

“Welcome to the crew!” said Bernard, huffing and puffing as he struggled to keep up. I ignored him as best I could. I was too focused on the hard stares and upturned noses of the people around us—the Explorers’ Society. As far as I was concerned, Scott was the only one I’d seen worthy of the name. I couldn’t wait to get away from the Academy in the Hidden City, and I didn’t care if I never saw it again.

I thought I was done with the place for good, but I’d soon learn just how wrong I was. Looking back now, I do feel sorry for that soft bunch of gents. I won’t lie and say that I was at all impressed by those stodgy old men—by Harper and his lot. But I won’t say another bad word about them, either.

I don’t like speaking ill of the dead.

Jezebel had a migraine once, back when she was little. It was brought on by a bad reaction to a medicine, and it had left her trapped in her room, in the dark, as her father pressed a cool, wet towel down over her eyes. Her head had felt then as if it might split open with the pain, and her body was an exposed nerve causing her to wince at every creaking floorboard, every outside noise. Even the glowing cracks under the door hurt.

She felt like that now. The last thing she remembered before the flash of light was the dark stairwell and reaching out for Tommy. Then she woke up here, wherever this was, with a head full of crawling, stabbing needles.

Again, she was in a mostly dark room. What illumination there was came from a flickering candle nearby, but when she tried to look directly at it, the pain in her head made the light halo and blur, and it was just too hard to focus.

Her father was here with her at least, cooling her forehead with a damp rag, just like before.

“Take it easy,” he was saying. “You’re sick from the jump, but it’ll pass in a few minutes. Just close your eyes and try to think of something pleasant.”

Jez did as she was told. She chose one of the pictures he’d given her—the one he’d done on their family trip to Ireland. They’d come across a little fishing village on the western coast where people still spoke Irish. The town was known for the dolphin who lived there in the bay. For a few euros, fishermen would take tourists out to watch the animal dance and play in the boat’s wake. On the day that Jezebel looked for him, however, the town’s local celebrity apparently had better things to do, and despite three boat rides, he never appeared. That night her father unwrapped a bundle of colored charcoals and drew his own dolphin for Jez, on the back of her mom’s map. Jezebel’s dolphin was bright green, and he swam with her amid the blue and white waves. The soft colors of the charcoals blurred together like sea spray.

The pain was gone.

She blinked up at her father, but it wasn’t her father at all. It was a gap-toothed boy with a dirty face who somehow seemed shorter in person than he had as a ghost. Standing, he might come up to Jezebel’s neck, if that.

The famous Tommy Learner was a bit of a twerp.

“I know. Strange, right?” he said, misreading her frown. “Thinking happy thoughts and all that, but it does make the pain go away. Usually that stuff’s a lot of nonsense, but when you’re talking time travel, it works. The Captain explained why once, but it didn’t make much sense. Something to do with good
memories being anchors in the time stream and blah, blah, blah. The man did go on.”

Jezebel sat up slowly, cautiously, and rubbed her eyes. She was lying on a little cot of pale palm leaves. And the candle wasn’t a candle at all—it was a hollowed-out shell, similar to an oblong coconut, and filled with a burning taper of something like black pitch. Whatever the sticky stuff was, the smoke it gave off smelled terrible, like burnt hair and sour milk. A tunnel twisted to the right and disappeared in a faint glow.

“Where are we?” she asked, wrinkling her nose at the nasty smoke.

Tommy stood up straight and gestured around the dank chamber. “I think it was once a trog cave—they’re great rock shapers, you know—but it’s abandoned now. Well, it looks abandoned, don’t you think? Anyway, it isn’t cozy but it’s home, at least for the moment. But that’s not the important part.
Where
is not the most important part.”

“You said something about time travel,” Jez said softly, but she already feared the worst.

“Yeah. See, I was talking to you from here—which to you is the past, I guess—through a sort of open window in time. And when you grabbed me, you accidentally jumped through. To here. To now.”