The Twisting (29 page)

“Here.” Mr. Yates handed each of them a blue-waxed Proof. “Grasp it tight and give this speeder a test drive through the Gateway. Meet you on the other side.” He walked off and disappeared into the dark rock corridor beyond the station.

Rivley stared after Mr. Yates, continuing to pinch the medallion at the edges. Daeryn palmed his Proof. The Gateway was tighter than he’d imagined.
I can’t force him. I have to just wait this out.

It took only a few moments before Rivley closed his hand and released the brake. The vehicle eased forward. Rivley pressed his lips together and fixed his gaze on the tracks. He opened the throttle.

“That’s it,” Daeryn said. “Take it at a run.” Ahead of them, the shadows had lifted, but the rock walls still loomed high and close. Cool evening wind whipped his hair across his brow, then the speeder roared forward, and the rock rushed by with a roar in his ears. Seconds later, the cliffs opened to the pale sky, and Rivley braked to a stop next to Mr. Yates.

Rivley had made it through the Gateway. Daeryn thumped his shoulders.

After a moment, Rivley threw back a grin.

The stationmaster tapped him on the shoulder. “Could use a fellow like you working part time. Would you make a point to see me on your return?”

Rivley rose, glancing back at Daeryn as he stood astride the machine and offered a hand to the stationmaster. “Be happy to, sir,” he said. “I have a commitment at the moment, but work slows after the harvest. Until then, I could always pop over if you’re in a bind. After, we can talk.”

Mr. Yates dipped his head. “Good plan. You sound quick-witted. Are you?”

Rivley blinked. “I think so.”

“Well, on top of honest, that will do.” He dug in his breast pocket and extracted several small cards. “These passes will get the speeder and yourselves on the Derwent Valley railway. You’re both working for me until you return this vehicle. Need those Proofs, though.”

They handed them over, and he paused, peering at each of them in turn. “Either of you been Outside before?” They shook their heads, causing him to frown. “’Cambires, too. Since your Elder didn’t run you through an interview I better do the honors. No changing Outside. None, you hear? Keep yourselves from undue notice, with remarks and such about Basin doings. Best for you”—he pointed to Rivley—“to avoid looking anyone in the face.”

Rivley tugged his cap brim lower, placing his amber eyes in shadow.

“Good.” He turned to Daeryn. “Your brown eyes blend, but it won’t hurt to keep yourself to the background. Some of those Outsiders don’t take to anyone with skin a shade darker than their own, though I don’t think any have owned slaves for three decades.”

Daeryn glanced to his hands. He understood the caution to keep his ’cambire form hidden, but this judgment of human skin made no sense. Another complication, dammit. “Never knew that. Thanks.”

chapter THIRTY-TWO

Derby

After sending Mary Clare
to her sister’s in the carriage, Annmar waited for Polly at the sweet shop where her friend worked. When Polly came out the door, she didn’t recognize Annmar, making Annmar feel like a different person. After greetings and hugs, they walked along The Strand arm in arm, talking and looking into their favorites of the fanciest shop windows.

“You must love it,” Polly said, “making so much money to dress like this. Is she a better employer?”

“The best. She takes good care of her people, though the harvest doesn’t look certain for this year. Pest problems.”

Polly wrinkled her nose. “Every farm has pest problems. One of the reasons I left.” She smiled. “I met a fellow last week. I’m seeing him again tomorrow.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s a footman.”

Mary Clare’s Leander sprang to mind, and Annmar laughed.

Polly swatted her. “It’s honest work. And he’s the nicest.” Her eyes went all dreamy. “When you find a nice young man, you’ll feel the same way.”

Thoughts of Daeryn’s gentle touch and woodsy scent gave Annmar’s stomach a flutter. “I already did. And do.”

“Eek,” Polly squealed. “Come back to the room and we’ll trade stories.” At the corner she steered Annmar to turn toward the boarding house.

Annmar stopped. “I can’t. I have to meet someone.”

Polly’s eyes narrowed. “That’s why you’re dressed up. Who is it?”

Oh, dear, she hadn’t thought of a story for this. Polly wouldn’t like hearing it was Mr. Shearing. “A…business associate of Mistress Gere’s.” True, even if unscrupulous. “I’m to talk to him about my drawings.”

Polly squeezed her hand. “See, you are good enough to get more work. Come back to the boarding house after. The other girls will make space for you.”

Oh, dear. Skirting the truth wasn’t at all easy. “I can’t. I have a room for the night, courtesy of this business.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

“I have to take the first train out in the morning to get back.”

Polly’s face scrunched into a familiar look of disbelief.

Annmar took both her hands in hers. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have come at all if it weren’t for the Collective. I might be able to save it. Maybe. Things are shaky with the harvest, and I have to try.”

“You really love the place then, and your new fellow?”

“I do,” she said without thinking, then stopped. She did. Talking with Polly about their beaus—real beaus, this time—cleared her mind. Dealing with Mr. Shearing would be hard, but she had to do it. “In fact, if things work out, I don’t think I’ll come back. My home is there now.”

Polly’s eyes widened. “But your shop, your dream—”

“Mother’s dream. Exactly what you told me, Polly. Mother wanted us to stay here, but I’ve met the people there and am learning about the land. I love it. I belong there, Polly.”

“And your fellow?”

“He’ll never leave. His life is there.”

A frown crossed Polly’s face, but she nodded. “Yours now, too. I understand. You’ll come visit?”

“I’ll try.” They hugged and said a teary good-bye. As soon as they parted, the jitters returned to Annmar’s stomach. A piece of Mrs. Betsy’s bread might calm it, but she needed that food to ply Mr. Shearing with blue fibers. Annmar walked past The Strand storefronts where she’d grown up, playing out how she’d offer Mr. Shearing a snack and, while he ate, how to distract him until she knew his secrets. Then he’d have threads, and she’d have her Knack ready.

It would work. Mary Clare said she had to believe it would.

She was broke, with just enough money for passage back. They could return with the information to stop Mr. Shearing from taking control of every bit of land in the Farmlands shire, but to help Wellspring, to do right by Henry, she needed those fifty-pound notes in Mr. Shearing’s pocket. Her hands were clammy with the fear of facing such a shrewd magnate, so she fisted them like Jac had taught her. She caught her reflection in a shop window and stopped under the pretext of looking at the wares to imagine where she’d land a punch. Or a kick.

She tucked a few loose strands of hair back under the hat and sighed. Her dress wasn’t as fresh after traveling and running errands, but she didn’t care. She’d made her impression on Mr. Shearing already. Once they were alone together in the room, she doubted he’d be looking at the dress—but that might keep his tongue loose.

* * *

Derbyshire

Riding this speeder
was nothing like running in his polecat form. Bumpy and noisy, the night landscape sped by, one smell just tickling Daeryn’s nostrils before it got whisked into the next.

Wind roared in his ears, but Rivley didn’t seem to mind it or the sharp turns. As they navigated down the hill from Gapton, he plied the brake only enough to keep them from flying off the rails. After a few nervous minutes, Daeryn relaxed. Rivley rode the curves as though gliding on air currents. Derby and Annmar were again within reach.

Rivley slowed through a town. Rowsley, the sign said. They’d have to note the signs to know when they reached Derby. With it past dusk, the streets were mostly deserted, and some of the tightness eased from Daeryn’s muscles. The fewer people they met, the less chance of their differences being noticed.

On the other side, the rails stretched ahead. Now they’d make time. But Rivley let the machine slow, stopped it and rose.

“What are you doing? Let’s get go—” Daeryn snapped his mouth closed on the order. Damn, he had a long way to go before asking and listening to his peers would be natural. “I appreciate you wrangling this ride for us, but what’s wrong?”

Rivley stretched his shoulders and rubbed his eyes. “Before we go on, I have to know: Why aren’t you an emotional wreck about leaving the Basin?” He leaned back and crossed his arms, smiling through a yawn.

Great Creator. Daeryn wiped a hand over his face. They
had
left the Basin. “I…I didn’t give it a second thought. My head’s been filled with worry for Annmar, when I haven’t been kicking myself for not recognizing such a stupidly basic meaning of our lesson. And there was the matter of getting
you
through the Gateway.”

“That so?” he deadpanned.

If it hadn’t been so sobering, Daeryn would have punched him. “Yes.”

Rivley blew out a breath. “So, you all right? No repeat thoughts like after what happened to Sylvan?”

Wanting to die himself, Rivley meant. Daeryn looked away. “That close call up at Forestridge hit me hard, including you stepping in front of Jac. But I wasn’t helpless. We each tried. We acted to protect the others, and”—he shrugged—“this time it worked. I must be over it, because I’m only grateful and worried more about Annmar. Can we go?”

Rivley yawned again. “I’m falling asleep. Might miss a cow on the track. You have to drive.” Daeryn scooted forward, and Rivley climbed on behind.

Daeryn released the hand brake, and as the speed increased, he called over the softly clicking engine, “I appreciate you insisting on coming with me.”

“One of us deserves a second chance with a female.”

Ouch. Riv sounded done with Mary Clare. Unlike the other times. Each of those splits had lasted…what? Two days…three? Daeryn hadn’t paid too much attention. On a straight section of track, he leaned around. “Do you like Mary Clare?”

Rivley’s eyes blinked open. “You know I do. Did.”

“I mean, as a potential mate?”

Rivley looked away. “What does it matter? I can’t have her.”

Daeryn faced into the wind again. He’d never asked Riv which females he liked and which he might…love.

He turned back to Rivley. “I’ve been an outright louse about her,” he said. “I’m sorry. I-I’ve been wrong the last few years. Mary Clare is the right girl for you.” Rivley scowled, and Daeryn’s instincts said this still wasn’t right. “I’ll make an effort—I mean, I
will
get to know her.”

“Mary Clare is with Leander now.” Rivley pulled his cap brim lower. “She and I haven’t stuck yet, so we’re not going to. If it’s not Leander, it’ll be another bloke. Forget Mary Clare.”

No, he wasn’t going to forget her. He’d make this up to Riv in some way. Later. After he freed Annmar from that kidnapping bastard’s—

“Ah, hell. Just thought of the ropens.”

“What?” Rivley shifted behind him. “Paet is locked up.”

“Not Maxillon. He could still be working for Shearing, and I’m sure he’d like revenge for us grounding his son.” Daeryn tightened his grip on the control lever. “What if Annmar runs into
him
?”

“
Unlikely, since he’d draw more attention Outside than we will. I think our bigger worry is if we turn up, and Annmar has enacted some punishment on Shearing, he might accuse us as accomplices. After Mr. Yates’ warning about not attracting notice, that wouldn’t be good.”

* * *

Derby

Carrying Annmar’s valise
, the bellman ushered her past the stairway to a small gated room. Not wanting to appear a fool, she continued walking to—oh. She stepped in and turned back to face the doorway, barely able to keep a silly grin from her face as he pulled the expanding metal across the opening. He threw a lever, and she rode her first steam-driven lift to the top floor of The Grand.

With perfect decorum, the bellman opened the door to room six hundred and handed her the key before ushering in the floor maid, who curtsied without making eye contact. She lit the lamps and a small fire Annmar didn’t need and closed the draperies, though it wasn’t quite dark. Then the girl, about Annmar’s age, left as fast as she could.

She clearly knew what kind of evening Annmar should expect in Mr. Shearing’s private suite.

“Will there be anything else?” the bellman asked.

“Yes, place settings for two, for…” What did she need exactly? “Dessert. And a paring knife, please.”

His brow quirked at that, but his face quickly returned to an emotionless expression. “Would you care for wine?”

Oh, Lord, no. “Tea, please.” Annmar handed him a tip.

“Very well, Ms. Peach,” the bellman said, and pulled the door shut behind him.

Annmar secured the room key in her reticule, and hearing its jingle with the coins for her return tickets stiffened her spine. She would do this.

After tucking her belongings away, she crossed the room and pulled back a panel of rose-colored damask to reveal a fine view of the city, one she’d never seen from a high vantage point. The sun was edging to the western horizon, but already pools of yellow lit the streets, making it look a wonder. Annmar tore her gaze from the strolling lamplighter below. She couldn’t see the train station from here, so darted into the bedchamber and pressed to its window. Were the Harvesters there—yes! One machine was parked in the yard. She traced the road out to Manning’s farm and found the other en route.

She sighed. If not tomorrow morning, then when? The stationmaster claimed he had bookings several days out. She might need that room at Polly’s yet. She turned, and her spirits fell further.

The bed filled the room, with massive carved headboard and footboard enclosing a thick down mattress. How had she overlooked it? After a moment of queasiness passed, Annmar walked slowly to it, her feet cushioned on the floral hooked rug, her full skirt not quite touching the cream embroidered linens.

As Mary Clare had instructed, she pictured herself on the bed, with Mr. Shearing—George. She had to call him by his given name. It might help, in fact, to set her at ease. It would definitely please Mr.—
him
, if she made him believe she was a willing virgin.

Annmar drew a breath, smoothed her hand over the ruffled pillow covers and began again, picturing herself on the bed with
George
.

She
would
fool him.