A Children's Tale by C B Ash Page A

wound. Though his own ministrations to his wound had been adequate enough, now he'll mend with only a slight scar now instead of a rather ugly one."
    "And so you tossed his chances at a good tale or two at a pub." Tonks laughed and tied off the end of the rope to a nearby belaying pin.
    "I'm confident he'll embellish. I do wish I had been allowed to work on him in my own hospice instead of an old coal bin of a closet."
    "It's more secure there and you know it."
    "Perhaps, I doubt though he'd cause mischief. We're miles off ground. Anything he did would put himself in peril." Thorias rubbed his eyes as bright sunlight broke the thick clouds for a moment.
    "Can't disagree with you there. Desperate men do strange things, if he's of a mind to. We found a few things aboard his steambat - a medical satchel with a pair o' logbooks, a compass and a few rolls of bandages stood out the most."
    Thorias frowned. "I don't follow you. Why are those important?"
    Tonks leaned backwards slightly to stretch his back a moment. "The satchel not so much. I'm thinkin' he grabbed it for the bandages. What he didn't count on was them logbooks. Top one was empty. Second had just started to be used by the captain of the Celeste . The satchel had been burnt all along one side. I'm no expert mind you, but I know a good burn from a lightning cannon when I see it. Irish down there had been ta the wreck. After our own had visited it I'll wager. Which means he's got to be one of RiBeld's men." 
    "Hard to find flaw there, Sirrah. Arcady, did you ever see him among RiBeld's rabble?"
    Arcady settled on Thorias' shoulder and nodded. "Yes. I know him from my time aboard. He never saw me but I remember him."
    Tonks folded his arms over his chest. "Did he say anythin' about the Captain and others that went a'ground with him?"
    The clockwork insect sighed - a rather distinctive sound much like a very tiny bellows - shook his head slowly. "No, he did not speak of any such information."
    "Then mayhap he'll need convincing. I'll try my hand at it." Tonks walked toward the ladder and descended below decks.
    "I just finished putting him together, Tonks, I'd appreciate it if you not ruin my work!" Thorias called after the pilot.
    Below deck and in the forward hold, Tonks drew an iron key from a vest pocket and turned it in the large steel padlock on the door latch. The lock clicked apart and the pilot eased the door open. To call the room a closet was a slight disservice to the room itself. It was small, but not tiny. It was a full five feet wide and fifteen foot deep - the wooden walls permanently stained with black soot marks and deep cuts. Long planks normally lined the walls as shelves but most had been removed save for one that could serve as a bench and sleeping pallet. Normally used for coal or other similar storage, the small room was now occupied by a surly Irish pilot.
    "Well, if it nae be the talk'tive one. Come tae show me ya hospitality? Be teachin' me ma manners?" 
    "Any more'n I'll leave ya here ta enjoy the coal dust! If yer quite through, I've a question or two for you."
    The Irishman laughed. "Ye be roit daft! Bein' shot down, den trussed up here like a winsome goose fer mid-Winter feast nae be makin' my own disposition kindly tae ye. Nae know of a reason Ah'd want tae answer anything ye be askin."
    "Look Irish, we know your workin' with RiBeld on some skulduggery. The way I see it, you could be comin' out better than the rest o' your band about now."
    "Get bent!" The Irishman barked another rude laugh at Tonks. 
    The pilot sighed, his patience frayed. "Gonna be that way is it? We can sail to that port." Tonks took a slow breath, then leveled a hard stare at the Irishman. "We found that satchel you pinched from the wreck. You should'a checked the second book. The captain of the Celeste had just started ta use it. That means you been there."
    Sitting in a moment of stony silence, the Irishman glared at Tonks. Color flushed the prisoner's face. "Ya