Unwritten Books 3 - The Young City (21 page)

Rosemary saw a flash of light and heard a faint crackle-snap. She looked, and there was Aldous Birge, in his impeccable grey suit, standing at the outer end of an empty dock. Edmund’s invention was in his hand and he flicked it like someone clicking a retractable pen.

“We found her!” shouted the oarsman as the boat
drew up to Aldous’s dock. “We found Faith Watson!”

Rosemary bit her lip. She hoped Faith had found her way out of the sewer, now that the hunt for her was about to begin again.

Faith forced her way upstream along the small branch tunnel. The walls on either side were both a blessing and a curse, guiding her forward but reminding her how closed-in she was. She struggled to keep her breathing under control.

“I must keep going,” she muttered. “I
will
keep going.” She pictured the ruffian who had harassed her for walking into Trinity College. She pictured herself walking over him, crushing him into the mud with every step in a most unchristian manner.

She pressed on faster.

Reaching ahead, her fingers met brick. Brick on three sides. Her route was blocked. But how? Water gurgled over her boots. She felt down until, at waist height, she touched the rim of a smaller tunnel. To go forward, she would have to crawl.

“Oh my God,” she gasped. “God, please, get me out of this place! I cannot go further!” Sobs shook her, and she stared upward, though all she could see was darkness.

Then she felt water drops on her cheeks. They were not tears. The drops fell from above, shockingly cold,
and a gust of fresh air blew into her face. She felt around her and grasped an iron rung, and another above that, set into the wall. It was a ladder. Feeling carefully for footholds, she climbed up.

A round hole in the ceiling became a narrow tube. She continued climbing. Bricks brushed her on all sides and caught at her dress, but she kept going. This had to be the way out. Had to be.

Reaching up again, her knuckles struck cold iron. She felt upwards. Her escape was blocked by iron — a manhole cover, too heavy to budge. She saw light through a hole, deep blue against black. She beat against the cover and screamed.

Fingers fit through the holes and pulled. The cover lifted up and was dragged aside. Frosted air rushed in, filling Faith’s nostrils — the sweetest breath she’d ever taken. A hand reached down to help her up.

She scrambled for freedom, putting her feet on a brick road, blinking at the gaslight and hearing the clatter of hoofbeats in the distance. She didn’t care how forward it was: she flung her arms around her rescuer and burst into tears.

“My dear, my poor dear,” said an elderly voice. Tom Proctor held her off at arm’s length and gazed into her face. “How did you come to be in such a state?”

Around them, the gaslights went out. The poles glowed with St. Elmo’s fire.

Rough hands grabbed Rosemary and hauled her to her feet. She shook them off and stepped gracefully onto the jetty. She stood tall as Aldous stared in amazement.

There was a commotion as two men leading a third burst through a wide set of doors and strode along the port wall to the jetty. They shoved the third man forward. Edmund trembled and stared at his feet. “I’m sorry, Faith,” he gasped. “I’m sorry —”

Then he looked up and blinked at Rosemary, mouth agape.

“Hello, Edmund,” said Rosemary. She smiled at one of the thugs. “Rob.”

Rob Cameron glared at her. The bandage was off his nose, but a large bruise remained.

“Rosemary?” said Edmund at last.

“Faith’s fine,” said Rosemary. “She’s still in the tunnels, but she’s finding her way out.”

“Thank you for telling me,” said Aldous.

“I figured you’d guess that,” said Rosemary.

“Indeed.” Aldous turned and slapped Rob hard across the face. “You idiot! I tell you to bring me Faith Watson and you come back with the wrong woman?”

Rob held his cheek. “I wasn’t on the search party!”

“Well, pass that on to the people responsible,” Aldous snapped. “They’re a disgrace!”

Rob seethed.

Aldous turned back to Rosemary. “Not that this is all bad. I wanted to talk to you eventually. Still, it is a shame to lose the other Miss Watson in the sewers.”

“She’ll find her way out,” said Rosemary.

“She may find more than she bargained for.”

“If you mean the time portals ... been there, done that!”

Aldous stepped back. “You know of the portals?”

“I’m from the portals,” Rosemary replied. “Did you honestly think your actions would go unnoticed? We’ve been watching you for some time, Mr. Birge, and we’re not going to tolerate your time crimes any longer.” She winced mentally at the phrase “time crimes,” but drove on. “This place is surrounded. One word from me and the time cops descend and throw you into a time prison. So, take my advice: let us all go, and promise not to interfere with time again, and we’ll be lenient. Resist, and you’ll face the might of our ...,” she threw her arms wide, “ray guns!”

Aldous folded his arms. “Very well.”

Rosemary blinked at him. “Very well?”

“It’s a fair cop. I surrender.” He grinned at her. “Call in your men.”

“Um,” said Rosemary. “We’d really rather not show ourselves if at all possible. I’d advise you to surrender first.”

Aldous’s grin widened.

“All right, I was bluffing!” Rosemary snapped. “But it’s not like you could be so sure!”

“I do not discount my good fortune, Miss Watson,” said Aldous. “I was as surprised by the portals as you were, but as my men explored, we quickly realized that we were the only ones who knew they existed. It was a perfect opportunity for profit, and so I came up with my brilliant trade scheme.”

“Brilliant trade scheme?” Rosemary echoed. “You find a doorway into the future and you trade for trinkets? You didn’t once think of going into a patent office, looking up the files, coming back, and inventing the paper clip or something and making a mint?”

Aldous looked away. “I did not think it proper to interfere with the future to such a degree.”

“You just didn’t think of it, did you?”

“Quiet!” Aldous snapped.

“And what about you?” Rosemary turned to Rob and the other boys on the jetty. “A man takes you into a world of light and noise and you just play along? Doesn’t this seem just the least bit crazy?”

Rob shrugged. “I have seen many strange things, but Mr. Birge pays well. At least now I know where you got your ...,” he chuckled, “‘clothes’ from the first time I saw you. A man could get used to the twenty-first century.”

Rosemary rolled her eyes. “You wish.” She turned her gaze on Edmund. “See what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

He shrank. “I’m sorry. I did not know what else to do.”

“Coming clean and asking for help would have been smart.”

Edmund slouched lower.

“I think you have distracted us enough, Miss Watson,” Aldous cut in. “I wanted to bring Faith to ensure Edmund’s loyalty. You interest me only as a potential threat. I wish to know how much you truly know of me, Miss Watson, and more importantly, who else you have told.”

Rosemary folded her arms and stayed silent.

Aldous smirked. “If you do not tell me what I need to know, your husband — if indeed he is your husband — might be a little more forthcoming upon learning you are here.”

Rosemary jerked up. “You have Peter? Where is he?”

“Safely stowed away. Or, just stowed away. His safety depends very much on how forthcoming you both are. Do you think you could loosen his tongue?”

Rosemary shook her head. “I won’t help you.”

“I thought as much,” said Aldous. “You are very much alike.” He nodded to the others. “Tie her up and take her to him.”

The men pulled Rosemary’s arms behind her and slapped metal cuffs around her wrists. She heard the click of the lock and gasped, then grunted as Rob shoved an oily rag into her mouth. She bit down on his fingers. He screamed.

“Let go! Let go!” he yelled, pulling with all his might. He punched her in the stomach, and Rosemary fell to her knees, choking. Rob clutched his bleeding fingers.

The men behind her wrapped a band of cloth over her mouth, tying the oily rag in place. Rosemary let out a muffled yell and struggled to her feet. One boy grabbed her, but she shook him off. He stumbled off the jetty and fell into the water.

Rosemary kicked as other hands grabbed her roughly.

“Restrain her!” Aldous shouted, stepping back from the fray.

Rob rushed in, yelling, then grunted as Edmund grabbed him from behind. The boy whirled around, flooring Edmund with a punch, then cried out as Rosemary kicked the back of his knee. He tripped over Edmund’s body, falling face first into a wooden post supporting the pier.

Then somebody tackled Rosemary from behind and pinned her to the edge of the jetty. Her head and shoulders hung over the slapping water. She kept struggling.

Aldous crouched down beside her. “Drowning while gagged is a most ignominious way to die, Miss Watson. Resist any further and we will toss you in. And Peter after you.”

Rosemary went still. They hauled her back onto the pier and left her lying there.

“I don’t believe it,” muttered Rob. He rolled onto his back and clutched his bleeding face. “She broke my nose
again
!”

Aldous hauled Edmund to his feet. “Foolish chivalry will get you nowhere, Edmund.” To the others, he said, “Finish the job, then take her to her husband.”

The other boys stood around her, nursing aches, cuts, and bruises. “You want us to carry her?”

Aldous thought a moment. “No. I can save you some trouble. Fetch the new chair.” The boys brightened. Two of them left, chuckling, and passed through the freight doors into the bustle beyond. A moment later they returned, rolling a chair on casters. The others dragged Rosemary to her feet. She stared in astonishment.

“The future is most ingenious.” Aldous took hold of the ergonomic office chair and displayed it with a flourish. “Never have I seen something as simple as a chair designed so expertly for comfort and flexibility. The wheels are a marvel, and even come with adjustable brakes. Perfect for moving yourself around ... or, in this case, for moving freight.” He nodded to the others.

Rosemary squawked in protest, but the men lifted her into the chair, pulling her cuffed wrists behind the back and hooking them beneath a knob. They hitched up her skirts, pulled her ankles behind the chair’s central leg, and cuffed them together. Ropes wound around both sets of cuffs and tightened until Rosemary squealed in pain. More ropes wound over her chest and legs and
were knotted tight. Then everyone stepped back to view their handiwork.

Rosemary could hardly squirm. The ropes and cuffs chafed her. Her feet didn’t touch the floor. The gag reduced her protests to grunts. She could only glare as Aldous smiled. The others chuckled with him, except Rob and Edmund. Then one of the boys stepped forward, adjusted one of the knobs, released the wheel brake, and wheeled her off the jetty toward the double freight doors. The others followed.

They pushed her into a warehouse that was more alive than the underground port. Crates were stacked on top of each other and people moved about, checking inventory against clipboards. Aldous directed his men to push Rosemary along the back wall, from shadow to shadow, out of sight of most eyes, toward a dark corridor lined with doors in the far corner of the floor.

They unlocked one of the doors and opened a dark room. One man turned up the gaslight. There was a grunt within, which rose to a squawk.

Rosemary looked up, and grunted in horror as she saw Peter, savagely gagged and bound to a straight-backed chair, looking back at her with wide eyes. He jerked against the ropes, shouting through the gag. It sounded like, “I’ll talk!”

Rosemary tried to tell him to calm down, that it was all right, that
she
was all right. The gag mangled her words; the chafing ropes made them a flat-out lie.

They wheeled Rosemary in front of Peter, facing him, and set the brakes. Everyone stepped back.

“A tableau,” said Aldous, chuckling. “All we need is Faith Watson to complete the picture.”

Edmund held his head. “Mr. Birge, please —”