I hated to leave. But I had a number of stops to make, and any one of them could turn into a long one, and Lethway’s time at the Banner wasn’t negotiable.
So I told Darla goodbye while yet another finely dressed lady canceled yet another order with yet another tale of a sudden trip out of town. We couldn’t kiss. We couldn’t hug each other.
I guess that’s something we’ll have to get used to.
My next stop was Avalante. I hoped to either speak to Evis through that sparking contraption we’d used before, or at least get an update on the
Jerle, the day man, was at his post. He greeted me with his usual beaming expression of utter and complete indifference. Yes, sir, you are expected, I was told. Yes, sir, I believe a message awaits you. If sir will follow me…
I followed. I expected to be led to the room, which housed the long-distance speaking device, but we just kept going down, and down, and down. Six stories down, and Jerle never broke a sweat.
I did. I don’t mind spending time in Evis’s office, which itself is some thirty feet, I believe, beneath the ground. I have long known that Avalante is more cavern than house-but I’d prefer to keep the details of what lies beneath comfortably in the realm of speculation.
Down we went, following a dizzying spiral of steps that passed firmly shut doors. The air grew noticeably cooler, though it never smelled dank. A couple of times, I felt a strong draft when we passed by ornate iron grilles set in the walls.
At last, we stopped at a door. Jerle opened it and beckoned me through.
As I crossed the threshold, a burst of noise struck me, grew, and kept going. I felt the telltale traces of a hex slide off my shoulders as we left a fancy be-quiet spell behind.
I won’t call it a room, because it was just too big. A chamber. That fits. It was so large I couldn’t see the ends of it. Massive stone columns rose up in regular rows all around me and faded off into the distance in every direction. Magelamps hung from the high smooth ceiling, casting odd shadows and making the movement around me a confusing, jarring hubbub that might have been anything from a riot to a dance.
Jerle let me take it in for a moment. Halfdead and human hurried past us without pause or note.
“Jerle, what is this place?”
“The sixth level, sir. This way.”
And he was off, moving easily through the maze of columns and bodies. I trotted along behind him, lest I be left there and forgotten.
There were no walls. There were, in places, long ranks of benches and tables, filled with odd devices about which vampires and day folk gathered. Some of them talked. Some poked at things with tools I couldn’t name. Some scribbled on paper, some smoked those fancy new smokesticks and some just stared off into space, oblivious to the din around them.
Devices flashed and spat tiny thunders and smoked and glittered. The smell of things burning was strong. One blaze broke out as we passed, but was quickly extinguished by a bevy of red-clad day folk who fought down the flames with buckets and blankets before it could spread.
“Almost there, sir.”
I was too busy huffing and puffing to reply.
Finally, Jerle came to a stop and exchanged a few whispers with a tall halfdead who regarded me over Jerle’s head with barely contained annoyance.
“So you’re the man who ruined the upstairs machine,” he said when the whispering was all done.
“I never touched the thing. I’m a pigeon man.”
He whirled and set about twisting this and pushing that on a twin to the machine I’d last seen six floors above.
Jerle moved to stand by my side. “Be seated,” he said, motioning me toward a table and a single chair. A curiously shaped brass funnel sat atop this table too.
I sat, leaned forward, waited for Evis’s voice to sound from within the thing.
For a moment, there was silence. And then a burst of noise, and then, just for an instant, the sound of something like music, if the musicians were Trolls and afflicted with serious throat infections.
The tall halfdead scowled anew at me and gave a brass wheel a savage twist.
The music vanished.
“…hit the bloody thing again,” said Evis.
“You’ll break it if you do and they’ll blame me,” I said. “Where are you? How are the ladies? Can I book a stateroom for the next pleasure cruise?”
A burst of noise drowned his next few words. “…are fine. Buttercup caught a fish. Miss Gertriss sends her regards. We are well ahead of schedule. Engines performing beyond expectations. Weather is holding. Any more visitors from the old country?”
“None. Mama is fine. Lot of people leaving the city, though. You may come home to find it empty.”
“Just so it’s in one piece. Have you spoken with our boss yet?”
“Haven’t had the pleasure. Will mention that you asked. Any sign of our friends from the north?”
“We started seeing their trash in the water yesterday. Stupid on their part. We now know they’re eating potatoes grown on Butler Farms and drinking Yotton beer from cheap pine kegs.”
“Hurrah. The war is won.” I wished for some privacy but wasn’t going to get it. “Is Gertriss there with you?”
“No. She’s taking a nap with Buttercup. Something wrong?”
“Mama’s taking some pretty big risks with the hex-caster. He's ex-army. From Prince. We all know Mama has a bad temper, but this isn’t some backwoods hex doctor we’re talking about.”
“She’s a tough old bird, Markhat. But if she loses this round, well, you and I will take a little trip that way once this is all over.”
“Hope it doesn’t come to that. When do you think you’ll hit the bluffs?”
“A good day early. Morning too. Plenty of time to make preparations. Did you know ogres get seasick?”
I never got a chance to answer. First came a deafening blast of that atonal music and a shower of sparks, and then a dozen red-shirts with their buckets of sand.
The copper funnel fell silent. The scowling halfdead shot me a look of pure hatred and called for help, and within moments the tall machine was surrounded by frowning workers who pointed and shook their heads and did a full week’s worth of heavy sighing in the time it took Jerle to arrive at my side and gently touch my elbow.
“I believe we should be going, sir,” he said.
We went. I pretended not to hear the unflattering commentary offered by the halfdead lamenting the fate of his machine.
Once we were three flights up, I relaxed a bit, but only a bit. Evis hadn’t shared anything worth ruining a long-talking dingus, and I didn’t think I’d revealed anything of worth to him. So why trot me down into the midst of Avalante’s secret machine works?
“I imagine sir will be wanting a carriage for the evening,” said Jerle. He opened a door. We were back up to ground level, and I’d not noticed.
“Now that you mention it, I would. With a driver who knows his way around a knocking stick, if you please.”
“I believe all our drivers are well versed in that particular art, sir. If you will wait here.”
I found a comfy chair and sat. Halfdead hurried past, all business, in greater numbers than I was accustomed to seeing. I wondered if they were preparing for the worst and decided they probably were.
I hadn’t even picked up an extra bucket of jerky for Three-leg. Or asked Evis about a room for Darla, should the cannons from Prince reach Rannit bombard our walls. Not that I was sure she would agree to take refuge with the halfdead.
“The carriage is ready, sir,” intoned Jerle. He pointed gently toward the door. “If you will show yourself out?”
“I will. And thanks.”
He nodded and was gone, a whispering halfdead on either side.
