city? A man what knows city people, knows the Dark Houses by name?” She gave her potion a savage turn. “I reckoned them stump jumpers would stay put and let that damn land sit fallow for five seasons, and then it would be theirs and no trouble for us. You.”
“I hate to point out the obvious, Mama, but that isn’t the way things are turning out.”
“I knows it. I’m sorry, boy. But there’s something else a goin’ on here. Something I don’t know about.”
“Do tell.”
“But I aims to find it out. I aims to put it right.”
“I hope you aim to do that before the Watch cuts the Sprangs loose.” I shook my head and had a disturbing thought. “How many Sprangs are there, anyway, Mama? Are there are more of them out there, sharpening their knives and planning trips to Rannit?”
“I don’t know, boy. But I will be a findin’ out.”
“You know we’ll have to tell Gertriss.”
“I know. I’ll be the one.”
“I’ll come back around when I’m done with a bit of snooping. Don’t worry, Mama. She’ll be mad, but she’ll get over it.”
Mama shrugged, unconvinced. Her relations with her niece hadn’t been what Mama was hoping for. This incident wasn’t going to help, not one bit.
Kids. They grow up, whether anyone likes it or not.
I rose, waved goodbye to Buttercup, and headed for Mama’s door.
“Back before Curfew,” I said. “Better make sure you check the peephole before you open up.”
“I ain’t stupid, boy. And I ain’t likely to get bushwhacked by the likes of no Sprangs, neither.”
I bit back a retort and headed for the street.
My plan was to head downtown and pay Darla’s friend Tamar a visit. Darla would be hurt if I sent Gertriss instead, and even more hurt if I kept Tamar waiting all day.
That was my plan.
I had to change it when the Corpsemaster’s black carriage came rolling down my street.
People scattered. Doors and shutters slammed. Hell, the crows picking scraps off the street took to the air and flapped away, all business, without so much as a single harsh caw.
Fool me, the only one left standing when the horseless black carriage rolled to a buzzing halt.
The buzzing came from the cloud of flies that engulfed the accursed contrivance. The cabdriver was a dead man, who sat atop the carriage and grinned down at me from a face that was mostly skull. I wondered what small fault won him his place atop the black carriage.
He clacked his lipless teeth in greeting. I think he would have dismounted and opened the door for me had I not reached out and opened it myself.
There’s no point in denying Hisvin’s carriage.
Not unless you wish to wind up sitting atop it.
I clambered in.
Evis was there, wrapped in yards and yards of black silk and hiding his eyes behind the black lenses of those fancy spectacles the halfdead favor on their rare daytime excursions.
Seated across from him was a dead woman. She hadn’t been dead long. The undertaker’s rouge on her cheeks and the make-up on her hands lent her a nearly lifelike appearance.
“Good morning, Mr. Markhat,” she said. Her voice seemed natural, save for a slight slurring. Her gums behind her too-red lips were white. “I trust you won’t mind if I take up a portion of your day?”
I nodded a grim hello at Evis, unable to read his eyes behind the dark glasses.
“Always happy to be about the Regent’s business.”
The Corpsemaster laughed through the dead woman’s throat. “Well put, finder. I believe you know Mr. Prestley.”
“He’s in trouble too?”
She ignored me.
“There is a thing I wish to show both of you. I can, of course, count on your discretion afterward.”
She hadn’t spoken it as a question. The threat was clear enough.
I settled back into my seat. It was cushioned and it rode on springs to smooth out the potholes. Had it been any other seat in any other carriage I’d have been glad of the luxury.
“This thing-”
The dead woman raised a finger to her dry pursed lips.
“Nice seats in this carriage,” I finished.
The dead woman smiled. Evis rustled in his silks. I wasn’t sure he was awake. I hear the slumber of a halfdead is akin to a coma.
We rattled on. The dead cabman cracked his whip at horses that weren’t there, while a dead woman watched me through eyes gone flat and dry.
All in all, my day was off to a decidedly rocky start.
Evis began to snore.
I clasped my hands behind my head and leaned back into the Corpsemaster’s fancy carriage seat. If Evis was so unconcerned he could slumber, I wasn’t going to be seen fretting.
The Corpsemaster smiled.
“I should’ve brought a picnic basket,” she said. Her smile was so wide it cracked the thick undertaker’s rouge and let slivers of grey peek through at each dimple. “We’re going to have such
I didn’t ask. I didn’t dare.
I was getting sleepy. It was happening so quickly I almost didn’t notice it. My eyes drooped shut and I caught myself and opened them with a start, terrified at the prospect of dozing off across from Encorla Hisvin, sure that would be construed as a mortal insult to one who bore no insult, however slight.
My arms fell to my sides, heavy as wet sand, and suddenly just as useful.
“Sleep now,” whispered the dead woman. My vision was failing. She leaned forward toward me and stroked my cheek with fingers oh so cold. “Better if you sleep.”
I didn’t have words. Didn’t have the strength left to speak them.
“Sleep.”
I fought with everything I had. Lasted maybe another pair of heartbeats.
I hoped I wouldn’t dream.
Somebody had my right arm and was yanking on it.
“Wake up,” shouted a gruff voice, so close to my ear I could feel warm breath. “You’re too damned heavy to carry.”
The voice was male and unfamiliar. I managed to open my eyes about the time I went spilling out of Hisvin’s carriage and onto the cobblestones below.
An effort was made to catch me, but it was halfhearted and accompanied by a pair of loud guffaws.
I landed, rolled, stood. I would have punched someone in the gut had my eyes not been blinded by a sun that beamed down hot and bright.
“You’re awake. Good. Here’s some water. You’ll want it.”
A cold pitcher was pressed into my hand. I squinted about me, trying to arrange my most recent memories into some semblance of order so I’d know who to hit first.
“Drink it,” said a different voice. “The longer you wait the worse your head will hurt. The Corpsemaster’s naps aren’t the restful, healing kind.”
“Do tell,” I managed. My throat was so dry it came out in a rasp. I gave up on any plans for pugilistic retribution and drank.
The water was cold and clear. It tasted of peppermint and another herb I couldn’t name.
“I’m Piper. This is Lopside.”
I lowered the pitcher.
The sun wasn’t just hot and bright. It was far too hot, far too bright. And it was beaming down out of a sky
