The Clockwork Wolf (24 page)

Sometimes the secrets I knew gratified me; other times they only made me feel wretched. “There are herbalists in the city who know how to put a discreet end to unwanted pregnancies. Rina's gels will likely do that, but Lady Bestly.” I shook my head. “She's waited her entire life to have a child, and her future hangs in the balance. She'll never agree to it.”

“I will go to Eugenia and make her aware that the conception was forced upon her for reasons other than providing an heir,” Dredmore said. “That may persuade her to make the difficult choice. We cannot permit Lykaon to breed a new army of immortals.”

“He can't sire them without the Wolfmen, so they must be stopped, too.” As the carri halted in front of my building I adjusted my sling. “I will likely be some time calling on the victims, but I will save Rina's gels for last. Can you meet me at the Eagle's Nest by four?”

“I will, but we will not long be there. Until this is finished you are spending your nights at Morehaven.” Before I could tell him what I thought of that he pressed a finger to my lips. “I will hire a lady's maid to attend to you and play chaperone. As it is, your arm will be unusable for at least a week.”

“I suppose I should accept, seeing as I have a new wardrobe there. But I can manage without a maid.” As Connell opened the door to help me down, I glanced back at Dredmore. “If I'm to stay at Morehaven, I'll want a turning bolt lock on the door.”

He inclined his head. “I'll have one installed tonight.”

As Dredmore drove off I turned to see Docket hurrying out to meet me. Grease made black streaks on his grizzled face, and all of what little hair he possessed appeared to be standing on end. “Morning, Doc.”

“Kit, I've been watching for you for hours.” He surveyed me. “Heavens, what did you do to your arm?”

“Banged it up a bit.” Explaining the rest would have to keep. “So why were you watching? Have the other tenants voted to have me evicted?”

“If they have, they didn't get my ballot.” He took hold of my good arm. “Come down to the workshop. I need you for the final adjustments. It's looking very tidy, I must say. I'll have to tighten down most of the clamps—I loosened them when I donned it for the first trial—but all the levers are aligned and the gears lubed up proper.”

He rattled on as he brought me down to the Dungeon and led me over to his wall rack, and only then I understood.

“You finished the harness.” I tried to smile. “How fabulous it looks.”

Docket beamed. “Right proud of it, I am. Beats everything the militia's got, that's for sure. Oh, let's have this sling off before I fit you.”

“My arm is really sore, mate,” I said. “Perhaps I could try it out when I'm feeling more the thing.”

“That's the beauty of the levers. They're so sensitive you'll have only to twitch a muscle for them to respond.” He untied the sling and patted my shoulder. “No worries, love. Once you have it on you'll fancy it like mad.”

I didn't fancy another trip to hospital. “Can you shut it off at once if something goes wrong?”

“No, but you can.” He pointed to a bracket with a brass button at the end of one appendage brace. “Press that and all the motors shut off. Press it again and they'll kick back on. Now stand in front of it here and we'll fit the clamps to you.”

Docket hustled me into place and began strapping me into the harness. I tried a few more protests but he kept assuring me I'd be perfectly safe.

“I've been trying to decide on a name for it,” he said as he adjusted the clamps round my limbs. “What do you think of Auto Armor or Battle Brace or perhaps The War Wager?”

“Names have never been your strong suit, mate.” As I said that I chuckled. “Well, there you are. What about the strong suit?”

He repeated it and grinned. “Perfect.” He released the harness from the wall rack and backed away. “Now, press the button, and take a few steps.”

I didn't want to move in the awkward, heavy rig, but nothing else would satisfy him but a real test of it. “If I fall forward you'll catch me, right?”

“Won't need to,” Docket said. “Go on, then.”

I tapped the button and felt the humming vibration of the motors whirring up to full speed. My best option seemed to be shuffling forward one step and immediately declaring Doc's contraption a resounding success. If that didn't work, pleading a call of nature would have to do.

“Here I go.” As I gingerly inched my right foot forward, the flat lever heads pressing against the side of my skirts shifted and my leg lifted and came back down in a neat step. I could feel the other levers on my other leg, abdomen, and arms responding as well, and when I took a second step the harness moved my arms with a slight jerk.

“Oy,” Docket called, now across the room, and threw something at me. “Catch.”

I brought up my arms to deflect the can hurtling toward my face, and the harness opened my hands to
catch it. My eyes widened as the jointed braces over my fingers contracted, crushing the can as if it were fashioned of paper.

“You see? You'll not be bashed by anything thrown at you.” Docket hurried back to me and spread his arms. “Now pick me up.”

I looked at the can. “I've no wish to crumple you, mate.”

“You won't. I've installed weight scales to kick in the safety inhibitors, and keep your gripping power at hold torque for anything over thirty pounds.” He pointed to a spot on the chest plate. “You can override them by pressing that red switch there.”

I tucked in my chin to see the switch. “Did you test this function, too?”

He gave an eager nod. “Mr. Gremley was kind enough to volunteer. I scooped him up as if he weighed no more than a feather.”

Slowly I reached out to Docket, putting my hands on his waist. “Please, God, don't let fail whatever it is that keeps me from smashing his ribs.”

The strong suit made a faint whining sound as I moved my arms up, and suddenly Docket was dangling above my head. I stared up at him, unwilling to believe it had been so simple. “I can't feel your weight at all.”

“The counterweights inside redistribute it,” he said. “It's why it feels so heavy when it's switched off. You can lift at least three or four men at once if you like.”

I put Docket back down and examined the harness once more. “It really does work.” I took a few more steps,
growing accustomed to the slight jerks as the harness moved with me. “Can I hit something?”

“That's the best part.” He gestured for me to follow him over to a tall stack of his crated parts. “All you have to do is make a fist and point it at what you want to punch.”

“Not all that.” I eyed the heavy wood slats and the motors sitting inside. “I'll break my only good hand.”

“Then use the hurt one,” he suggested. “You'll not feel a thing.”

I lifted my hurt arm and aimed my fist at the crate. The harness sent my arm flying forward and my fist landed with what felt to me like a bare nudge. Wood cracked, metal groaned, and the crate flew twenty feet into the back wall, where it smashed apart.

I barely felt a twinge from my wound, and turned my hand over to see bits of the crate fall from the braces. Beneath them my hand didn't have a mark on it. “Sweet Mary.”

“The shock compressors take all the force of the blow for you,” Docket said, pointing out the tiny geared joints over my fingers. “I've put these on the maximum setting, so you'll not want to punch a regular chap—you could knock his head off. But if you tussle with one of them beasts, it should match his strength blow for blow.”

I almost felt like running out and looking for one of the beasts. “What if he hits back?”

“No worries.” Docket picked up a sledgehammer, and before I could do more than shriek he slung it at my chest plate. As the metal collided with it I felt a mild nudge, as
if he'd prodded me with his elbow. “The stabilizers kick in on impact; you'll not tip over. But if you should get your feet tangled in something, like this”—he hooked his leg behind mine and gave me a shove, toppling me over—“just relax.”

I lay on the floor looking up at him. Although the fall hadn't hurt me I felt ridiculous. “Relax like this?”

“Well, relax and press the green button on your left forearm.” Docket bent over me to tap it. I turned my head as two struts emerged from the sides of the harness and began maneuvering me and it upright. Before I could blink I was standing again.

“I can't believe it.” I held out my arms. “What else does it do?”

“That's all for right now, but I've a list of improvements to work out.” He walked round me. “I haven't devised a helmet yet, so remember that your head is unprotected. Also, you'll not want to take it in water; the motors and the clamps will seize, and you'd sink to the bottom and drown from the weight anyway.”

“No going for a swim, right.” I extended my arm and turned it to watch the mech in motion. “What if I'm caught in the rain?”

“Cover it fast with a waterproof, or you'll become a very pretty statue until I can cut you out of it,” he advised me. “You might also put a loose cloak over it when you wear it outside. Keeps people from staring.”

“You're not really giving this to me,” I said. “Doc, if you sold this design to the queen's army, you could make your fortune.”

“I've already gone through several fortunes, my gel,
and I didn't make it for money or barter.” His merry expression turned serious. “You're to wear it when you go out after dark. And if you come up against those beasts again, you give them what for.”

“Doc,” I said, smiling. “Thanks to you, I think I can.”

Docket agreed to deliver the strong suit to the Eagle's Nest that afternoon, and I went up to the office. The pile of post waiting in the tube contained enough business to keep me busy until summer, and it hurt to set it all aside in favor of the list of the Wolfmen's victims.

I scanned the addresses first, and used my map of Rumsen's streets to work out a route for my calls. Nearly all the women lived in one of the least affluent quarters, which was conveniently located half a mile from the White Lupine.

I pushed aside the map and sat back in my chair. “So you have them attack harlots and poor women, and one lady.” On one hand it made sense to target the unfortunate; they couldn't afford physicks or a hospital; they'd most likely keep their pregnancies secret until they gave birth at home. Lykaon could easily have them watched until they delivered and he could snatch the babies from them.

But Lady Bestly was hardly without resources, and could afford the very best of care during her confinement. How did she fit in with the other women?

A groaning sound drew my eyes to the closet, and when I went to open it I found Gert huddled inside. “Now how did you get in here? No place to sleep again?”
I saw a bruise on her temple and lost my smile. “Who hit you?”

“Well, I do have a place to sleep, and plenty of work, thanks to you telling me about that tinker. As for this, I was watching for you this morning, miss.” She accepted my hand and struggled to her feet. “Down the end of the hall, like always. Only this old bloke comes up and waves a stick and strolls right in, bold as you please. Couldn't let him rifle through your things, could I?” She touched her temple and winced. “When I braced him he turn round and whacked me. That's all I remember.” She gave me a surly glare. “Must have dragged me in the closet, the filthy heathen.”

“Heathen.” I helped her sit down in my visitor's chair. “You mean he was a native?”

She nodded. “He'd put on regular garms, and tucked his knotty under the collar, but I could tell straightaway. Dark as Lucifer himself, he was.” She spied my tea cart. “Could you make us a brew, miss? My throat's like sand.”

I put on the kettle and brought her some water and a pain powder. “Here, this will help with your head.” I waited until she swallowed the bitter stuff before I sighed. “Gert, you shouldn't have come after him. He might have done much worse.” Which puzzled me, now that I thought about it.

“I reckon I deserved it, for what I done to you.” She took out a crumpled rag and blew her nose. “Some of the mages near me old place, they made up like friends to me, and said terrible things about you. Told me it would be a favor to them, me getting rid of you. Only I couldn't, and then when me luck turned, I went to them asking for
paying work. They called me beggar and chased me out of their shops, all of them. I never begged in me life, miss.”

“I know, Gert.” Pity made my anger recede, and I heard the echo of what I'd said to Lady Bestly in her words. The reason I had always been kind to the old woman was because I'd been the same when I'd come to Rumsen—alone and without prospects, but determined to live with dignity. “I'm sorry.”

“You've no reason to say that, or to help me find work, but you did. You've ever a kind word for me, no matter what I've said to you, and always handing me coin for tea and such when all I've done . . .” She shook her head before she looked up at me. “I don't know what you are, miss, but there's no evil to you. No evil at all.”

I made her tea and found a tin of biscuits to go with it, and then asked her if she remembered anything more about the native intruder.

“That stick of his might have been some sort of wand, for how he used it to get in, waving it over the lock.” She frowned as she thought. “Had some odd beads and feathers hanging from it.”

“Blue feathers?” When she nodded, I perused the floor of the office and wondered if another rat bomb had been set loose. “Did he have anything else?”

“Just that stick. When I came after him he was already in here, rifling through your post.” She turned her head to my tube port. “Took something out of there. A little parcel, I think.”