figure getting slowly to its feet chilled my
blood to the bone when I realised who it was, the one thing that could scare
away the nightowls. It was one of them, an undergrounder here in the flesh with
murder in his eyes.
Jared stopped walking and was
pointing to the end of the street and I was brought out my memories of the last
time I was here. Once again a body lay in a pool of blood. I knelt down to
examine it as Jared held his lantern above me. In the flickering light I could
tell this was no surface dweller. In fact I didn’t even need to search for
papers. I knew who it was. I should, after all his face was plastered on the
walls of every scraper and banknote.
“Who is it?” Jared asked, looking
around for any sign of nightowls or cutpurses.
I got to my feet. “It’s the
mayor.”
He almost dropped his lantern.
“What? Are you serious?”
I nodded. “Have a look.”
He knelt down and held the
lantern towards the glassy eyes of Edwin Gauge, founder of Gauge Industries and
the richest man for countless leagues around. “What the hell was Gauge doing
down here in the gutter?”
“That’s the question,” I replied
just as a noise reached us from the building to my right. I glanced across in
time to see the blue glow of a fusegun warming up from inside a broken window.
The gun fired at the same time as I shoved Jared to one side, diving the other
way just as the heated ray shot between us.
“Come on!” Jared shouted. “Before
it recharges.”
He grabbed my arm but I shook him
off, sinking to my knee and warming up my own weapon. I fired at the same time
as the figure in the window but I was the better shot. I heard a scream and I
knew I’d got lucky, he was still alive. A well aimed fusegun never left any
remains but perhaps we’d get some answers from this one.
Jared was through the window
before me and I climbed after him in time to see him holding the wannabe
assassin by the collar. “Talk to us,” he said, his voice calm and unemotional,
controlling his anger as best he could.
“Oh curse you both,” the man
said, blood seeping from the wound in his side, his innards beginning to spill
out. “Why couldn’t you keep your noses out?”
“Who are you?” I asked, the
flickering lantern light illuminating a wan face with a single remaining eye.
It was not unusual for gutter dwellers to lose eyes or fingers. The work when
it could be found in the mills did not forgive mistakes.
He laughed, his chest heaving as
he spat out blood. “You should have stayed at home,” he wheezed. “So should I.”
“Why did you try to kill us?”
“Ardour.” He said nothing more,
his eyes glazing over as Jared lay him back down. “Now what?” he asked, turning
to me.
“Did you hear what he said?”
“Yes I heard,” Jared snapped.
“But what do we do about the mayor?”
“We can’t let anyone know he’s
dead. It’d cause chaos.”
“True. But-”
“Go bring the steamcrate. We’ll take
the body to mine and then I think we should go for a night on the tiles.”
He raised his eyebrows at me.
“Ardour?”
I nodded, watching as he
clambered out of the window, leaving me alone with my victim. I prised the
fusegun from his fingers. Three charges left. I replaced his fusegun with my
own before reaching into his blazer to see if there was anything in there that
might help me. It contained an entrance stub for Ardour, two shilling coins
that were encrusted with dirt and a steamcrate spanner. The spanner meant
something but at the time I couldn’t work out what that might be. By the time
I’d pocketed the items and climbed back out into the street Jared was back with
the steamcrate.
I took the mayor’s shoulders and
Jared grabbed his feet and somehow we got him inside. The crate staggered into
the air, not used to the weight of three people at once. Jared fought with the
controls as we headed up through the clouds and back to the scraper. He moored
it outside my window and we looked around
blood to the bone when I realised who it was, the one thing that could scare
away the nightowls. It was one of them, an undergrounder here in the flesh with
murder in his eyes.
Jared stopped walking and was
pointing to the end of the street and I was brought out my memories of the last
time I was here. Once again a body lay in a pool of blood. I knelt down to
examine it as Jared held his lantern above me. In the flickering light I could
tell this was no surface dweller. In fact I didn’t even need to search for
papers. I knew who it was. I should, after all his face was plastered on the
walls of every scraper and banknote.
“Who is it?” Jared asked, looking
around for any sign of nightowls or cutpurses.
I got to my feet. “It’s the
mayor.”
He almost dropped his lantern.
“What? Are you serious?”
I nodded. “Have a look.”
He knelt down and held the
lantern towards the glassy eyes of Edwin Gauge, founder of Gauge Industries and
the richest man for countless leagues around. “What the hell was Gauge doing
down here in the gutter?”
“That’s the question,” I replied
just as a noise reached us from the building to my right. I glanced across in
time to see the blue glow of a fusegun warming up from inside a broken window.
The gun fired at the same time as I shoved Jared to one side, diving the other
way just as the heated ray shot between us.
“Come on!” Jared shouted. “Before
it recharges.”
He grabbed my arm but I shook him
off, sinking to my knee and warming up my own weapon. I fired at the same time
as the figure in the window but I was the better shot. I heard a scream and I
knew I’d got lucky, he was still alive. A well aimed fusegun never left any
remains but perhaps we’d get some answers from this one.
Jared was through the window
before me and I climbed after him in time to see him holding the wannabe
assassin by the collar. “Talk to us,” he said, his voice calm and unemotional,
controlling his anger as best he could.
“Oh curse you both,” the man
said, blood seeping from the wound in his side, his innards beginning to spill
out. “Why couldn’t you keep your noses out?”
“Who are you?” I asked, the
flickering lantern light illuminating a wan face with a single remaining eye.
It was not unusual for gutter dwellers to lose eyes or fingers. The work when
it could be found in the mills did not forgive mistakes.
He laughed, his chest heaving as
he spat out blood. “You should have stayed at home,” he wheezed. “So should I.”
“Why did you try to kill us?”
“Ardour.” He said nothing more,
his eyes glazing over as Jared lay him back down. “Now what?” he asked, turning
to me.
“Did you hear what he said?”
“Yes I heard,” Jared snapped.
“But what do we do about the mayor?”
“We can’t let anyone know he’s
dead. It’d cause chaos.”
“True. But-”
“Go bring the steamcrate. We’ll take
the body to mine and then I think we should go for a night on the tiles.”
He raised his eyebrows at me.
“Ardour?”
I nodded, watching as he
clambered out of the window, leaving me alone with my victim. I prised the
fusegun from his fingers. Three charges left. I replaced his fusegun with my
own before reaching into his blazer to see if there was anything in there that
might help me. It contained an entrance stub for Ardour, two shilling coins
that were encrusted with dirt and a steamcrate spanner. The spanner meant
something but at the time I couldn’t work out what that might be. By the time
I’d pocketed the items and climbed back out into the street Jared was back with
the steamcrate.
I took the mayor’s shoulders and
Jared grabbed his feet and somehow we got him inside. The crate staggered into
the air, not used to the weight of three people at once. Jared fought with the
controls as we headed up through the clouds and back to the scraper. He moored
it outside my window and we looked around
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