Brilliant Devices (22 page)
“I do not,” Claire said stoutly. “That lady knew you immediately, as did the children. How would that be possible if he had not told them
about you?”
A little figure popped out of the door. “Come!” she shouted impatiently. “Tea!”
Lizzie>
The interior smelled of herbs and
hot metal and baking, and Alice realized she had not eaten anything decent since breakfast in Edmonton. Not that she could manage much. Not until she knew.
Malina waved them onto
the benches near the stove, and the little girls offered them cups of tea in curious vessels.
“What are these made of, ma’am?” Maggie asked, indicating her cup, which was as transparent as one of Claire’s tortoiseshell hair combs, and colored much the same.
“The goddess has called me Malina, and you must, too. They are teeth of whale. We offer tea in holy vessels as welcome.”
Whales had teeth
? And sacred ones at that. Maybe that made this the next thing to drinking tea out of the chalice at church of a Sunday. Or was the welcome of a guest a holy act in this village?
“Thank you.” Maggie smiled at her, and Malina’s eyes crinkled in return. “It’s awf’ly good. Like honey and grass. We ’ad summat similar a long way south of ’ere.”
“Are you the sister of Alice?” Malina asked her gravely.
“No. Me and Lizzie, we’re wiv the Lady.”
Claire rose, cup in hand. “I am Claire Trevelyan, and these are my wards, Lizzie and Maggie de Maupassant.”
Alice realized with a tiny shock that this was the first time she’d ever heard the Mopsies’ surname. And it was quite a mouthful.
Malina frowned in confusion. “So many strange words. What is
ward
?”
“It is used when a child is— When one looks after—”
Claire resumed her seat, her brow furrowing as she sought a definition. “They are my young sisters of—of the spirit.”
Malina’s face cleared and she beamed at the three of them. “I understand. The goddess has given them to you, though you have not birthed them,
nor has your mother.”
“Quite so,” Claire said with some relief.
Lizzie exchanged a look with her twin, then both the green eyes and the blue turned to Claire. “Izzat wot wards are?” Lizzie asked. “Sisters?”
, only closer. Nicer.”
They looked so comfortable together that Alice’s heart ached just a little, missing something it had never really had.
“I like it,” Maggie said. “Now all we ’ave to do is find a dad for Alice.”
The words were no sooner out of her mouth than they heard a commotion outside, muffled by the walls of the house. It sounded like a crowd of people were arriving, and
Alice heard hoofbeats and shouts, along with the barking of dogs.
But the women of the household did not move, other than the two young women operating the mechanical
contraption, who put another kettle of water on to heat.
Alice got halfway to her feet, but Malina leaned over from her bench and put a hand on her knee. “They must give thanks to the goddess for good hunting, and prepare the kill. Then
he will come. Drink tea and I will talk story.”
Standing o
n the tip of Alice’s tongue was a refusal—they had to be going, they had come a long way to find Frederick Chalmers—but Malina began to speak in a soothing tone. The hasty words settled like chickens on a roost and instead, pictures formed in Alice’s head … of a beautiful woman birthing stars, of whales that came to her hand to feel the joy of her touch, of caribou and wolves bowing to her and offering her children their lives so that all might be sustained through the winter.
And as she concluded and the final image—a man bowing to a strong, brown-skinned woman before
she took him as her husband, and offering her food and drink and a home—the door opened and daylight poured in.
Alice sucked
steam- and tea-scented air into lungs that didn’t seem to be working right. But they had to work. Otherwise, she’d faint in a heap on the floor.
Malina stood while Claire and the Mopsies
looked a little dazed, as if they were struggling to come back from the place where legend was still alive, and influenced the hours of every day in this village.
Alice
found herself on her feet, watching a tall man push through the door and close it behind him. “Malina, we saw the landau and the watch told me we have guests? It’s hard to believe it would be the Dunsmuirs, but—”
He stopped
. Alice swayed, taking in his face, trying to match it to the hazy one in her memory. He was fair complected, as she was, his skin reddened from wind and sun. He had frizzy blond hair, as she did, though his was cropped close to his head, she saw as he pulled the fur hat from it. One eye was blue, the other covered by an ocular device held over the socket by a leather strap. It seemed to move in tandem with the gaze of the healthy one.
Both false and real eye locked on
her, standing motionless and voiceless next to the fire. “Alice?” he said.
She had dreamed of this day for years and years,arsn>< had figured out a speech that would make him sorry for leaving them, make him respect her, even if he didn’t love her.
But she couldn’t remember a word of it. All she could remember was strong hands, and a hard knee that formed a horsie she had loved to ride on as a tiny girl.
Both h
is gazes seemed to devour her from head to foot. “Is it really you?” He stepped closer, his hands coming up to touch her face, and she stepped back.
“Surprised?”
Whose voice was that? And what had it said
that
for? Where was her speech? Where was her brain, for that matter?
But he took her at face value
. “Surprised. Overjoyed. Astonished.” His voice dropped to a whisper, but his gazes did not leave her face for an instant. “Relieved.”
What?
“The last pigeon came back with no photographs of you. I’ve been living in fear that Ned Mose—that he finally—” Moisture glistened in the corner of his good eye. “Thank the goddess and the Lord and all good spirits everywhere. You’re alive and well and standing right here,” he whispered. “It’s a miracle.”
“Photographs?” Lizzie said to no one in particular. “Pigeons?”
“Every solstice, I sent one of my pigeons to your coordinates. Every solstice, it came back,” he said. “A little blond girl grew into a young woman, and no matter where I was, I knew what you looked like.”
If he had struck her, it could not be worse than this.
The color rose hot into Alice’s face, and her jaw worked before words came out. “You sent a pigeon to photograph me, but you couldn’t send a letter to let us know whether you were dead or alive?” Tears clogged her voice, as bitter as the words tasted in her mouth. “You took the time to invent that kind of device, but you couldn’t have told me in fourteen years that you cared? That you were sorry you left? That you were even alive?”
“Alice.” He said her name like a blessing, the way Malina had said the name of the goddess. “Ned Mose had a price on my head. If I had contacted you or your mother in any way, he would have found me and put a bullet in my skull.”
“I s’pose that was why Ma married him.” Sarcasm dripped from every word, as though the poison she’d kept hidden deep inside had finally been lanced.
“She married him to save her life. And yours. A deal went bad—oh, I’ve made mistakes, sure enough. But one mistake I didn’t make. I got myself out of his way and that was the price I paid. Never to see you again. Or rather, never to let him know I saw you.
But the birds told me how to make a way.”
“
The pigeon came back with no plates of you. He thought you had died,” Malina said to her gently, going to his side. “He mourned you as if you had.”
No wonder the children had looked so overjoyed at the sight of
her appearing so suddenly in their midst. For them, she would have come back from the dead.
“I ain’t deIt>
Lizzie’s eyes widened.
Frederick Chalmers’s ruddy face turned pale.
“Do you know what Ma had to do to put food on the table? Huh? She was a
desert flower
, that’s what!”
His throat worked, but he didn’t speak, so Alice struck again
, like a rattler, mindless and terrified—anything to make these feelings go away.
“And now she’s a different woman—a hard woman. The kind it’s easy to leave. So I did what you did, Pa, and I left her, too. And you know how that makes me feel?”
What could he do but shake his head?
N
ow the tears were coming in earnest. She had to say the rest of her say quick, before she broke down and did something completely stupid, like throw herself on his chest and bawl.
“I came all this way to look for you, and now that I have, I just want to spit in your eye. But I won’t, because there’s young ’uns here and I got responsibilities. Instead, I’m going to leave you, too, Pa.” She caught her breath, pushed it in and out. “Don’t bother sending any of your dadburned pigeons after me
, either. I’m a darned fine shot, and if I see one, I’ll shoot it out of the sky.”
She made it to the door without her knees collapsing. And turned.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Malina,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster. “Claire, I’ll be with Tigg at the landau.”
And then she did exactly what she said she’d do.
She left, and she didn’t look back.
*
If his head didn’t fall off or his spine snap, it would be a miracle. Then again, if his head did fall off, at least this cursed journey would be over.
The huge vehicle with the continuous track in place of wheels jounced into a pothole the size of a pond and labored out the other side. “Is this the only road?” Andrew shouted in the ear of the young man who had been their guide, who possessed the unlikely name of Errol
Eliot.
“Don’t need any more than this,” was the hollered reply. “There’s nothing out here but the Esquimaux and a whole lot of nothing.”
Andrew doubted that the Esquimaux considered their home nothing, but it was too difficult to talk over the roar of the steam engine powering the vehicle. Andrew could feel the heat from its exhaust stack against his back, and the thing was all the way across the cabin in which they sat on benches bolted to the floor.
But a que"+0k, and thstion had to be asked.
“Do the migrating herds attack?” he shouted.
One of the men in the front, who operated the rate of steam
and thus their land speed, glanced at his companion, who turned the great wheel used for steering. “Depends on whether they get spooked. And whether the bulls are feeling frisky. And whether there are a lot of calves in the herd with a lot of protective mamas. But don’t worry, sir,” he yelled, “they won’t bother this vehicle.”
It was not this vehicle
that concerned him.
Six
miles. Seven, if he was lucky.
Errol must have noticed the grip he had on the
back of the bench before him. “Nearly there, sir,” he shouted. “This hill is the five-mile marker.”
Only five? Andrew sagged, then straightened as he jounced sideways and back with neck-snapping suddenness.
They topped the hill and the country spread itself before him. The road wound down in long, looping steps to a river valley far in the distance. To the east were low, beetling mountains that probably had never seen a piton or pick, and to the north were endless ranks of spindly trees that seemed to become even thinner with distance. To the west, the sun had dipped below the tree line, and with it went what little warmth the day had possessed.