The Machine (An Ethan Stone Thriller) (48 page)

There, Celandine picked out the four cleanest cups, filled a tin coffee pot with water and granules, put it on their portable stove to boil and listened idly to the conversation that drifted up from below though there was much of it she did not understand.

Barbegris had explained earlier that the men were coming to buy something from him. He wouldn’t be drawn on what he was going to sell them, possibly one of the church ‘relics’ he had palmed off on the unwary in half a dozen worlds but he had hinted that, if the sale went through, all their money worries would be over. Celandine knew better than to pry further and was content to listen and let the truth be revealed in its own time.

“The last set of purges took us to Maykland,” Tattoo was saying.

“A bloody breeding ground for wretched Edenists,” said Yellow Teeth.

“They even say John-a-Weeping has been seen there,” Blue Eyes added.

“Homph. He seems to be everywhere.”

“Maybe he is,” said Tattoo darkly. “He has become… numerous.”

Celandine, wondered what that last remark could possibly mean but the conversation had descended into hushed whispers and so she sat back on an old orange crate (now filled with salted pork) and gazed up at the church dome.

Dv Azerro’s church was less than grand but the amateur artist who had painted the ceiling had created a work of awe and wonder. The dome was supported by seventy-seven pillars, as the worlds were supported by the souls of the seventy-seven divinities. The edges of the dome were illustrated with the Hell of Fire on one side and the Hell of Ice on the other and, in between, the Waters of Heaven. Here, the artist had chosen to depict scenes from the war between the divinities and titans. She was able recognise some of the divinities – Dv Magortam with his keys of office, Dv Kinneal with his tear-streaked face, Dv Bunuel with her doctor’s staff – but most of them were unknown to her. She knew the names of all the divinities - she had learnt her scripture well – but that did not mean she could put names to faces. Perhaps that was as well; it reflected the holy truth that the living incarnations of the divinities, who walked the worlds, life after life, usually went entirely unrecognised.

Far more fascinating was the artist’s portrayal of the enormous titans, the children of the dark god, Entropy. They were a fearsome blend of crab, spider and reptile with spindly legs of bone, curved black teeth and bulging, glistening shells. At the altar end of the dome, the fate of the titans was shown, as one of the divinities (that would be Dv Javester, the warrior) hacked apart one of the vile monsters and, from its oneirium body, another divinity (Dv Liminis no doubt) formed the very first gateway: a light filled doorway to Seelie.

The coffee pot rattled to a boil. Celandine set the pot and the cups on a tray and carried them downstairs.

“So how much do you want?” the Rector soldier was saying.

“Make it a round number,” said the cleric gatemaker. “A million rouples.”

Tattoo laughed. Blue Eyes and Yellow Teeth loyally joined in. “I don’t know how much you think the Order pays its soldiers but we don’t have that kind of money.”

Barbegris spread his hands wide, the epitome of reasonableness.

“I’m sure your master could conjure a million rouples without even blinking.”

“But he’s not here and even he wouldn’t pay such a ludicrous price for what, all told, is merely a piece of information.”

Celandine frowned. So, it wasn’t a relic offered for sale here. She slid the tray onto the table and began to pour.

“Not just a piece of information,” said Barbegris. “There’s a key you need to unlock this treasure. I’m prepared to lend it to you.”

“What key?” said Tattoo.

“The girl.”

“The girl. What girl?”

Barbegris nodded towards Celandine.

“What?” she exclaimed, spilling coffee on the floor.

“Why? Who is she anyway?” asked Tattoo.

“My apprentice,” Barbegris replied.

Tattoo laughed.

“And, leaving aside the question of why she’s so important, why would the Sacred Guild give an apprentice to a thief and a scoundrel like you?”

“Who said the Sacred Guild sent her to me?”

“Oh, you found her, did you?”

“I found her,” Barbegris agreed. “She’s Maria Brey’s daughter.”

Five sets of eyes were suddenly and firmly fastened on Celandine. Blue Eyes breathed an oath of disbelief.

“What are you gawping at?” she said, unnerved by the sudden attention, and thoroughly bewildered by the turn of conversation. She put the coffee pot down and stood back.

Tattoo laughed and turned back to Barbegris.

“Maria Brey’s daughter,” he said sarcastically. “Of course she is.”

“Can you afford not to believe?” said Barbegris.

Tattoo fell silent and was no longer smiling.

“Make your offer, then,” said Barbegris.

Tattoo puffed out his cheeks as he decided on a figure.

“A hundred thousand.”

“Homph. I wouldn’t even tell you the name of my mother for that much. I’ll meet you half way; eight hundred thousand.”

“Your arithmetic is worse than your manners, father,” retorted Tattoo. “Two hundred thousand.”

“Five hundred thousand then. That’s less than half what I wanted and a cheap price for the greatest find in centuries.”

“True. But it was Maria Brey’s find, not yours. I would have paid her five hundred thousand gladly but you… you I will pay two and a half.”

“Then pay me four. The lion’s share of it is for Brey’s daughter. I have made a personal pledge to raise her as my own, in accordance with Maria’s wishes.”

“If Maria Brey wished for you to raise her only child then she must have been mad. I will give you and her daughter three hundred thousand.”

Barbegris considered the offer and then spat, actually spat a fat glob of phlegm on the floor.

“You would deprive an old man of financial security in his twilight years. Homph! I will take your three hundred thousand and may Brey’s find be the death of you.”

The price agreed – for what Celandine still did not know – the four men picked up their coffees and drank.

Tattoo smacked his lips and set his cup down.

“Now tell us. Where can we find Gibberdog?”

The name meant nothing to Celandine.

“Money first,” said Barbegris.

“Oh no, not a chance,” said Tattoo. “You tell us, father, and when Gibberdog is ours, we will pay you in full. I may do business with you but don’t expect me to trust you, you old fraud.”

“What?” blustered Barbegris hoarsely. “You call me a fraud? Me, a father of the Sacred Guild? My word is an unbreakable bond.” He tapped a finger beside his eyepatch. “I didn’t lose my eye to the demon Otokuma so that jumped up militiamen like you could call me a fraud! You will pay me now or you will leave.”

“Blather all you like,” said Tattoo calmly. “I haven’t got the money with me.”

“What?”

“Haven’t got it. Didn’t bring it.”

Barbegris gagged speechlessly and, before Celandine’s eyes, his face turned a violent shade of red. He got to his feet.

“Get out, you swine! All of you! How dare you waste my time!”

“Now, be sensible, father,” said Tattoo also rising. “I can give you maybe a hundred now and when we have Gibberdog the rest will –“

“A hundred?” Barbegris screamed. “Entropy take you, man!”

Barbegris took up his coffee cup and flung it inexpertly across the table. Yellow Teeth and Blue Eyes leapt away from the spray of hot drink. Celandine saw Yellow Teeth’s hand go for his pistol and was about to shout out a warning when Blue Eyes grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her against his body. She struggled momentarily but then something hard and cold was pressed against her throat.

“Be still,” whispered Blue Eyes.

Celandine swallowed hard and felt the skin of her neck ripple along the edge of Blue Eyes’ sabre.

Barbegris still stood at his end of the table, silently facing the three soldiers: Yellow Teeth with his pistol trained on Barbegris, Blue Eyes holding Celandine at sabre’s edge and Tattoo stood patiently between them, his weapons undrawn.

Celandine couldn’t see Tattoo’s face from where she was but she could hear his smile as he talked.

“Oh my. What a situation we find ourselves in. I feel this calls for fresh negotiations.” He threw a few crumpled notes down on the table. “There’s your hundred, father. You’ve already made it perfectly clear how much this girl means to you. Tell us where Gibberdog can be found and she’ll remain unharmed.”

Barbegris hesitated long enough for Celandine to realise that, whatever happened next, it wasn’t going to end happily.

“Quickly, father,” said Tattoo. “His hands shake when he’s had caffeine.”

Celandine quelled her rising panic and mentally reached out to Ardilla, who was still resting in her pinafore pocket.

“You wouldn’t kill a child,” said Barbegris. “You’re soldiers.”

Tattoo remained unmoved.

“Our master has asked far worse of the faithful.”

“Far worse,” agreed Yellow Teeth cheerfully.

To make the point clear, Blue Eyes pressed the sabre blade tighter against Celandine’s throat. She was sure he had already cut her, could swear she felt blood trickling down her neck.

Celandine called Ardilla to climb swiftly up her dress and then, without thinking beyond the next few moments, directed him onto Blue Eyes’ sabre hand. Feeling the cold claws latch onto him, Blue Eyes gave an involuntary cry of surprise and flung out his arm in an attempt to shake the little creature off.

Celandine slipped free of his grip and bolted for the nearest hiding place, the rows of dusty pews arranged before the altar. She did not look back and only heard the chaos that unfolded in her wake.

Blue Eyes was spitting curses, having hurled Ardilla away into some corner and convinced that the oneirium critter had been something genuinely alive and probably venomous.

“Damned creepy-crawly nearly got its fangs in me!”

Tattoo was telling him to shut up but then Yellow Teeth gave a shout and shots were fired, huge blasts of thunder that echoed off the stone walls and temporarily blocked out all other sound. Celandine’s shrieks were lost in the succession of booms as she threw herself down between two rows of seats.

“Stop firing, you idiot!” yelled Tattoo. “He’s no use to us dead. You, get after him. You, holster your weapon and bring me the girl. Alive. If the old fart wasn’t lying, she’s just as important.”

‘I’m not important,’ thought Celandine. ‘I know nothing. I don’t know where Gibberdog is. I don’t even know what Gibberdog is’.

She wanted to shout as much to the soldiers, to explain that whatever business had suddenly soured between them and Barbegris was between them and Barbegris alone. But that was selfish thinking and it probably wouldn’t matter one jot what she told the soldiers.

“Look at this,” called out Yellow Teeth. “Is this what attacked you? It’s a flaming ornament. A piece of animal pottery. Here.”

“I don’t care what it was,” replied Blue Eyes loudly from the balcony above. “It went for – Hey! There he is!”

Thumps, clangs and shouts ensued in the balcony. Tattoo, still down in the chapel, demanded to know where Barbegris was.

Celandine quickly assessed her position amongst the pews. The problem, she realised, was that it was a temporary hiding place and one she could not leave without being seen by anyone standing in the chapel. Furthermore, the only exit from the church was through the porch and, as long as one of the soldiers stood guard there, neither she nor Barbegris could escape the building. The only other door leading from the chapel was much nearer to her but it led to the crypt and, though the crypt door could be bolted from the inside, she would then be quite securely trapped.

Still, she decided, better to be trapped than captured. She crawled to the end of the pews and was considering when to make a dash for the crypt when Blue Eyes stepped out in front of her, filling the gap between the benches and barring her way.

“Found you,” he grinned.

Celandine saw that he now held Ardilla in his fist and reacted instantly, turning the stone squirrel into a ball of razor-edged spikes. Her skill with the oneirium was faster than his pain reflexes and, before he could drop the thing, the needles had penetrated his flesh, running through him and thrusting out of the back of his hand like a sudden growth of bloody black hair.

Pain robbed Blue Eyes of his voice. He fell back against the wall, wide-eyed and horrified and silent.

Celandine leapt forward and over him and sprinted for the crypt door. Tattoo shouted out a warning but there was no one to stop her. Through the door she ran, down the steps and into the unlit spaces of the crypt.

She lingered there for a few seconds, panting hard and then, with a lurching stomach, remembered the bolts on the inside of the crypt door, the ones she had entirely forgotten to throw across.

“Numbskull,” she wailed softly and ran back.

A figure loomed in the doorway as she neared and she stopped dead. The man grabbed at the door and swung it shut, plunging the crypt into total dark. There was the grating sound of one, then two bolts being dragged across, followed by a barraged of thumps on the other side of the door and then silence.

Celandine stayed as she was, unsure as to exactly who was inside the crypt and who was outside it. A hand took hold of her wrist. She tried to pull away.

“It’s me, stupid girl.”

Celandine sighed enormously at the sound of that coarse, petulant voice.

“Father.”

“Homph. At least you waited for me.”

The soldiers took up banging at the door again.

“We’re trapped,” said Celandine.

“Homph. Would be if I hadn’t picked up your discarded plaything.”

“Ardilla?”

Barbegris didn’t reply. He let go of Celandine’s arm so that he could work on the oneirium with both hands free. Celandine knew what he was doing; he was using Ardilla to build a gateway, a skill that she was far from attaining. The gateway would be a temporary one and a small one at that, but permanent and large enough for them to escape through. The only real question was whether he could build it before the crypt door was broken down.