Spellsmith & Carver: Magicians' Trial Page 17

  The door popped open again. Auric was beginning to suspect the train station downtown got less traffic. Lotta and Ezra entered.

  Father froze upon seeing Lotta. The girl eyed him with her typical detachment, seeming neither surprised nor curious.

  “Hello. We haven’t been introduced.” Father smiled, glancing towards Auric out of the corner of his eye. “Who’s your lovely guest, Auric?”

  “You’re Auric’s father?” She tilted her head.

  “Yes.” He laughed. “How did you know?”

  “You have his smile, and you’re short like him, though maybe not so much.”

  Heat rose under Auric’s collar. “This is Lotta Tyckner and her Uncle Ezra,” he said. “We’re working on a project together.”

  Father shook hands first with Ezra then Lotta, his fingers lingering about hers as if he were measuring her by her grasp. Finally he turned back to his son.

  “I didn’t see your host when I came in. Once I told the butler who I was, he allowed me in unannounced. I don’t wish to impose, but I also don’t take up much space. I can sleep here, perhaps?” He motioned towards the chaise longue.

  Auric winced. He’d been sleeping there so Ezra and Lotta could use his bedroom.

  “I’m sure we can find accommodations for you.” Rill took her father’s arm and led him to a chair. “Jericho, would you call for some tea? We need to explain the situation to Father. If he’s going to be here through it, it is best he understands what is happening.”

  ***

  Auric watched his father closely as they took turns recounting recent events. The story involved his daughter, son, and son-in-law in frequent danger, probably stressful enough to trigger another attack. Why couldn’t the old man have stayed away?

  However, throughout it all, Hedward stayed calm, sipping his tea, nodding, and listening.

  Finally, they reached the end.

  “It seems this goes a lot deeper than concern over my license.” He sighed. “It shouldn’t surprise me. Capital magicians have always been a political lot, and where politics are involved, backstabbing and under-the-table scheming usually follow. You have all handled this well, though—which also shouldn’t surprise me.”

  In spite of his own stress, warmth flooded Auric’s chest.

  “Aurry and Jerry work well as a team, Dad.” Rill beamed. “They’re unstoppable when together.”

  “Oh, don’t you pretend to be an innocent bystander.” Father chuckled. “I know you, Rill. Whatever these two accomplish, you’ll have your hand in it.” He rubbed his palms on his pant legs and half shut his eyes.

  Auric leaned forward in his chair. “Are you tired? If you need to lie down—”

  “I’m fine.” Father scowled. “Easy, Auric. I’m not an invalid. It was a long trip, is all.”

  “I’m sure Auric could use your help with the trial preparations.” Jericho stood. “Lotta’s project is important, but we still need to be ready with our defense.”

  “Our best defense is denial,” Father said. “They can’t prove anything.”

  “You and Auric making a fuss over that will also keep their eyes off Lotta until we can demonstrate that her generators work.” Jericho strode to the door. “We only need to make it a few more days. I’m going to talk to the housekeeper about getting you a room.”

  Auric’s stomach churned at the thought of facing down Hovawart with his father at his side. Yes, Father did appear to be fully recovered, but Auric could still remember how pale and weak he’d looked during and immediately after the episode. Hovawart’s letter had been the cause of that. What if something the inspector said or did triggered another attack?

  Father reached over and squeezed Auric’s knee. “Look, I know you’re worried about me, but I promise, I’m fine. We can work together to get through this now.”

  Auric forced a smile, but all he could think was that his father was one more person he had to protect.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jericho wiped his hands on his handkerchief and stepped back from the generator. Lotta beamed at it as if it were her firstborn child, her face glowing in the lantern light, providing a second beacon in the otherwise dark tunnel.

  “So, it’s done, right?” Jericho asked. “We can arrange the demonstration?”

  Her smile faded, and she twisted her fingers into her hair. “I … I’m not sure. I’d like to do a test run tonight, late, when no one will be around to see. I’ll leave it unhooked from the machines until then, in case someone stumbles onto it.”

  “All right. Tomorrow is the hearing. Do you think it will be ready by then?” He knelt down and began to put the tools back into their caddy.

  She yanked at her hair until he imagined it had to be hurting her. “I don’t know. Maybe. If the test goes well. I’ve never actually made this before. It’s all been theoretical until this point. I mean, I’ve made models and I’ve tested … but nothing like this.”

  “Hey, steady.” Jericho stood and patted her shoulder. “You know what you’re doing. We’ve been working on this thing, perfecting it, for days now. It’s ready. You’re ready.”

  She smiled, and for a moment he saw what Auric saw in her: pretty, smart, but so afraid. Auric probably imagined himself as her knight in shining armor, ready to protect and comfort her … and perhaps he was.

  “You coming back to the house?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No. I want to stay here and double check everything. I brought sandwiches.”

  He glanced up the darkened tunnel. “Will you be safe here?”

  “Uncle Ezra’s keeping watch, and I set up some alarm trip wires and traps. No one will sneak up on me, don’t worry.”

  “All right.” Jericho reached for his coat. Even in the summer heat, the tunnels were cool and damp. The cold didn’t bother him when he was exerting himself, focused on the work, but as soon as he stopped moving the chill crept through him.

  “You aren’t like the other magicians I’ve met.” She fiddled with a golden chain that hung about her neck. Funny, he’d never noticed her wearing jewelry before.

  He raised his eyebrows. “You’re just now realizing that?”

  “I mean, there’s how you dress, obviously, but you’re good with your hands, know how to work with tools.” Her nose wrinkled. “The other day I asked Auric to hand me a pair of pliers and he gave me a spanner.”

  Jericho laughed. “Yeah, I don’t imagine that sort of thing is taught at the Academy. I come from a line of carpenters, not magicians. Grew up with saws, hammers, chisels. My uncle still puts me to work when I go home to visit. Fancy training or not, he makes sure I don’t forget where I come from.”

  “You like being a magician, though?” She tilted her head. “It’s not too esoteric and useless for you?”

  “It’s the complete opposite. Magic provides wonder, a series of commands with endless possibilities. Yes, I like the order and simplicity of making things with my hands, but the potential of magic? That brings me to life.” He stopped and cleared his throat. He hadn’t intended to reveal that much of himself.

  “Really? You seem more practical than that.”

  “I don’t like limitations, for myself or my world.”

  “I guess I understand that. I need my limitations, though, on myself and the world around me.” She fitted her goggles over her eyes. “They make me feel safe.”

  “I understand.” He touched her shoulder. “Hopefully when we get through this, we’ll all be safe again, limitations or not. I’ll see you tomorrow, Lotta.”

  A short walk later, Jericho emerged from the tunnels and found Ezra leaning against the wall of the nearby factory, smoking a pipe. Jaspyr slept at the man’s feet. Jericho had taken him along today because the fox wouldn’t stop nipping at Styles, even when Rill gave him her best scolding. Rill, of course, admitted her heart wasn’t in it, and felt it was easier for everyone if Jaspyr spent some time with her husband. However, the fox had been so anxious inside the tunnels that Jer
icho had left him outside with Ezra. Now the bronze animal opened one glowing eye, snapped to his paws, and bounded to Jericho’s side.

  Jericho knelt and rubbed Jaspyr’s ears before addressing Ezra. “Anyone come by?”

  Ezra shook his head. “All quiet.”

  “Good.”

  Red tinted the sky above the monolithic buildings. A single faint star sparked to life in the growing twilight. It somehow shone through the smoke of the thousand or so chimneys beneath it. Jericho smiled. It would be good to get home to Rill—perhaps to hear her daily account of all the ridiculous things Styles had said in his attempts to be charming. Apparently over lunch the day before, he’d compared her to the strawberry trifle they’d been served.

  “Sweet and blushing pink.” She’d rolled her eyes. “Seriously, why do men think it’s romantic to compare women to something they want to chew up and swallow? It’s really not.”

  Jericho had filed that information away for his own personal use.

  Ezra stretched. “Lotta not coming up?”

  “She wants to work a bit longer. Will you two be all right?”

  “I’ll keep an eye on her.” Ezra pushed aside his vest, revealing a holstered revolver. “Not getting caught unprepared again.”

  “Good thinking. Stay safe, all right?”

  “We will.”

  Jericho hurried through the alleyways with only the light of Jaspyr’s eyes to pierce the growing shadows. Normally he’d walk the full journey—about an hour—to Styles Manor, but it was already late, and he wanted to be home before dinner. His hand strayed to his pocket where he kept the last vial of bottled magic Rill had taken from Alvin. He was supposed to use it only in emergencies, but right now, the thought of a quick homing spell into his wife’s arms tempted him severely. Well, if he could make it into the more populated areas, he’d probably be able to hail a cab. There was also a steam-trolley system through a lot of the city, though he didn’t know if it ran this late.

  Something clanked in the darkness. Jericho froze, Jaspyr bouncing into the back of his legs due to the sudden stop.

  The fox gave an inquisitive, “Yip?”

  “Shush, boy,” Jericho whispered.

  The distant rattle of wagon wheels and the nearby buzz of flies, ever present on the city’s sun-baked trash piles, droned about him, but other than his own breathing and the gentle clicking of Jaspyr’s swishing tail, he didn’t hear anything else. Perhaps he’d imagined it. After all, trying to hide his comings and goings from Lotta’s work site had led to a certain amount of paranoia: entering the house by the servants’ doors, intentionally having cabbies drop him off several blocks from his intended destination.

  He exhaled before continuing his walk. Styles hadn’t acted suspicious, and with Blackthorn dead, he had no one left to do his dirty work.

  A high-pitched chatter rose, and something sprang from the rooftop across the way. It alighted on the cobblestones with a metallic ringing then spun about. Its eyes glowed in the darkness.

  The blasted pewter monkey, Baltazar.

  His throat suddenly dry, Jericho scooped up Jaspyr. If he had to run for it, he wanted to be sure he didn’t leave Rill’s beloved pet behind. The fox gave a low growl, tail thrashing madly.

  The monkey stood on its hind legs, taller than Jericho had anticipated, about the size of a small child. Grip tightening around, Jaspyr, Jericho strode forward with purpose.

  Baltazar charged. Jericho matched his speed, swiping his foot forward in a mighty kick. His boot-toe clanged against the demon’s metal plating, but rather than go flying, the creature’s agile fingers caught him about the ankle. Baltazar swung up Jericho’s leg, needle-like fingernails piercing through the thick cloth of his trousers. Jericho cried out in pain. He dropped Jaspyr and flailed for the monkey. The beast, however, moved quickly, from legs, to trunk, to shoulders. His lithe metal fingers hooked into Jericho’s hair and whipped his head back. Jericho’s spine popped, sending a jolt of pain down his back.

  Jaspyr threw back his head and howled.

  Jericho managed to catch a hold of the monkey’s tail. He yanked. For a split second, the creature’s hold slipped, then he clawed at Jericho’s eyes. Jericho’s hands flew to protect his vision. Ivory teeth chomped painfully into Jericho’s ear. Jericho shrieked.

  Cold, grasping hands surrounded Jericho’s throat. Baltazar squeezed, cutting off air. Blood trickled down Jericho’s neck from his injured ear. He thought of the magic vial in his front pocket. No time for that. Gray closed in on his vision. He wrestled with the monkey, but the beast’s hold was too tight.

  World swimming, Jericho’s knees hit the cobblestones.

  Jaspyr gave a keening cry.

  No, Jericho told himself. This is not how I die. I’ve faced dragons and vengeful Fey. I’m not going to be killed by a ridiculous monkey.

  He clawed at Baltazar. The monkey didn’t let go.

  Something swished by Jericho’s ear. There was a clang of metal on metal, and Baltazar released his throat. Gasping for air, Jericho fell to all fours. Growls, cackles, and yips echoed in the dark alley. Jericho stumbled to his feet. He could see the flash of the two metal creatures’ eyes and the occasional glint as the dying light caught on Jaspyr’s bronze exterior, but in the darkness, with their constant motion, he couldn’t see to separate them, let alone help Jaspyr.

  Finally, everything was still. Fumbling in his pockets, Jericho located a box of matches. He lit one. Jaspyr sat, proudly, beside the crumpled Baltazar. The light had gone out of the monkey’s eyes. Jaspyr stuck out his chest and yipped.

  Jericho snagged the monkey by the tail and looked about for a trash bin. He managed to find one that still possessed a lid. For good measure, he weighed down the top with some boards he found lying nearby. Then he wiped his hand across the brow.

  “Thanks, buddy,” he said.

  Jaspyr danced around Jericho’s ankles. With a handkerchief fished out of his pocket, Jericho did his best to sop up the blood trickling from his wounded ear, but suspected he’d only smudged it. He let out a long breath. “Come on, Jaspyr. Let’s get home.”

  ***

  Jericho reached the steam-trolley station just as the car rattled to a stop. He and Jaspyr hopped aboard. The conductor eyed him, and Jericho self-consciously dusted at his coat. Even in the faint light from the trolley’s lantern he could tell it was filthy.

  About twenty minutes later he entered Styles Manor and hurried up the back stairs. He staggered through the door to their chambers, ready to collapse. Auric and Hedward looked up from the documents they were studying as Jaspyr bounced onto the couch beside Hedward.

  Auric leaped to his feet. “What happened to you?”

  Jericho checked his reflection in the clock’s face. The wound on his ear had already scabbed over, but blood streaked the side of his face, and his hair and clothing were disheveled.

  “Long story. Suffice to say, thanks to Jaspyr, we don’t have to worry about that blasted monkey anymore.”

  Hedward’s eyes widened, and he crossed to Jericho. “Are you sure you’re all right, son?”

  Jericho hesitated. He didn’t think Hedward had called him that before. Yes, they’d been close as apprentice and master, but not family close, at least he hadn’t thought Hedward saw him in that way. He cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.”

  “Blackthorn’s monkey went after you?” Auric stood. “Was Lotta there?”

  Jericho shook his head. “No, he got me a few blocks from the tunnels, on my way home.”

  “Still, this means it knew where to find you which means Styles could know about the project.”

  Jericho’s stomach folded in on itself. Why hadn’t he thought of that? “We need to get back there.”

  The door behind him burst open, and Rill flew in, her cheeks bright red. Her mouth fell open when she saw Jericho. “What happened to your ear?”

  “I’m fine!” He held up a hand. “We have other things to worry about.”


  “I’d say we do. Jerry, where’s the vial from Alvin’s?” She wrung her hands.

  His brow furrowed and he reached into his pocket. “Here. Why?”

  “Give it to me.” She snatched it from his hand. “Hovawart just got here. I listened outside the study while he talked with Styles. Trust me, we don’t want to be found with this in our hands.”

  “Then you definitely shouldn’t have it either!” He tried to reclaim it, but she held it back.

  “Don’t worry. It won’t be in my hands.” She crammed it into her bodice and carefully adjusted her corset around it. Auric coughed and clapped his hands over his eyes.

  Rill pressed her ear to the door, then returned to wrap her arms around Jericho. “They’re coming.”

  He opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but before he could the door sprang open without so much as a knock. Hovawart, Styles, and a uniformed peace officer strode in. Yipping, Jaspyr bounced off the couch.

  “Shush, boy!” Rill ordered. The fox settled at her feet.

  “Cordon, what’s this about?” Auric frowned.

  “Search carefully,” Hovawart said to the peace officer, ignoring Auric.

  Cordon shrugged. “You’ll have to ask the inspector. He asked permission to search the premise, and since I’m a law-abiding citizen with nothing to hide, I agreed. I’m sure you’ll be fine, Auric, Carver.” His gaze narrowed at Jericho. “You have nothing to hide, do you?”

  Jericho managed an easy smile. “Nothing at all.” Well, there was the vial, but he doubted even Hovawart would stoop to stripping Rill.

  “I may have nothing to hide, but that doesn’t make it any less insulting that you are searching my belongings like a common criminal.” Hedward’s eyes flashed as the peace officer disappeared into Jericho and Rill’s bedroom. “What reason do you have for harassing honest citizens like this?”

  Hovawart pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose again. “My office received an anonymous tip that had me interview the business owners on either side of the victim’s shop one more time. The first time, I was vague in my questioning, but this tip suggested I ask them about a specific individual they might’ve seen around the time of the murder.” He pointed a thin finger at Jericho. “One specifically remembered seeing a man matching your description.”