A Clockwork Fairytale (5 page)

“I’ll ensure you have a mirror next time you bathe so you can clean your face properly,” he said.

Melba looked down and picked dirt out from under a fingernail. “If I get clean and smell nice like you, will you let me work for you?”

When he didn’t answer, she glanced up to find him frowning at her. He cleared his throat. “That won’t be possible.”

“Then why do you want me to clean up?” She didn’t understand him. If he was going to toss her out, why clean her up first?

“I need to ask you some questions, Melba. Please sit down.” He pointed to one of the chairs in front of the desk, then seated himself in the other.

Too many questions was always bad. It usually meant she’d done something wrong. She shrugged, pretending she didn’t care, and plopped into the seat. She slipped the pledge stone from the pocket of her clean trousers and hid it down the side of the chair in case he asked for it back. That way, if he searched her he wouldn’t find it and she could put it back in her pocket afterwards.

She froze when he leaned forward and pushed his hand down beside her leg to fish out the starlight stone. He dropped the pledge onto her lap. “I’ve been doing this longer than you, Melba. Don’t think you can outwit me with silly tricks a five-year-old would catch.”

Melba ground her teeth and stared down at the stone. Old Maddox made her run messages day and night, but with him she could get away with stuff. Master Turk might be lenient, but she was starting to wonder if she wanted to work for a master who didn’t miss a trick.

He leaned back and crossed his legs. Melba trailed her gaze over the engraved silver toecap on his shiny black shoe and the smooth black fabric hugging his knee and muscular thigh. He leaped between the buildings on the skyways so easily. He must have incredibly strong legs.

“Tell me about yourself, Melba. What are your earliest memories?”

The strange question snapped her attention back to his face. His expression was unreadable. Maddox always said she had more wits than his other three boys put together, but she couldn’t fathom what Master Turk was up to. She pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth.

The silence in the room stretched, broken only by the ticking of a clock and the shout outside of a passing pie man.

“Being with old Maddox,” she offered when she couldn’t think of anything better.

“Before that?”

“There ain’t no before. I’ve always been with Maddox.”

“Maddox didn’t birth you, Melba.”

She shrugged. “He said me ma were a whore who tossed me out on the street and he took pity on me.”

“And you believed him?”

Melba had never thought much about who her mother was. Why would Maddox lie to her? She shrugged.

“Why would a small-time thief master who struggles to feed the few boys he runs burden himself with a girl?”

Unease fluttered in Melba’s belly. When Maddox supped a half o’ale too many, he often cursed the trouble she had caused him. She’d always believed he took her in because he had a kind heart. Although he was gruff and made her do her share of running the messages, he treated her fairly.

She looked down and curled her fingers around the starlight stone in her lap. The smooth shape fit snugly in her palm, somehow comforting. Gold and red shimmered through the crystal and tiny shiny stars flashed across its surface, but she wasn’t in the mood to enjoy her treasure. “If he didn’t take me in through pity, why else?”

“Why do thieves do anything, Melba?” he asked softly.

Coin
.

Her chest tightened unbearably. Had her life in the baker’s shop been the result of a deal?

Suddenly understanding hit her. Master Turk knew her history. How had she been so slow to catch on?

She glared at him. “Tell me.”

He tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. “I need to question Maddox before I’m sure of anything.”

Melba leaped up and ran to the glass doors overlooking the river. She couldn’t breathe in this stuffy room full of old books. She rattled the door but it wouldn’t open.

Master Turk’s hand gripped her shoulder. A warm relaxing feeling slid through her and she calmed down. When she dropped her hands from the door handle, he pushed a small key in the lock and opened the door. He lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered, “We each have shining moments and shadow moments. Master Maddox may prove to be a shadow moment for you, Melba, but I promise that you have many shining moments to come.”

***

Later that evening, Turk ran down a roof and jumped into the yard behind the Fish and Flag Tavern. Shouldering open the heavy door, he slipped into the back corridor. He brushed some specks of brick dust from his jacket as he walked to the private room he reserved for interviews.

He’d reckoned Maddox would be more likely to meet him on territory he believed to be neutral. The old man probably didn’t realize that the Shining Brotherhood owned the tavern and Cuthbert, the man who masqueraded as the owner, was pledged to Turk.

Cuthbert’s ruddy face appeared around the door to the bar and he tugged on his shaggy gray forelock. “Evenin’, Master. Would you be wanting a sip or a sup?”

Turk examined the small bare table in the interview room. Maybe a drink would relax Maddox enough to loosen his tongue. “A jug of ale and two cups.”

Cuthbert looked over his shoulder and grunted a command, then returned his attention to Turk. “Maddox is ’ere, sir.”

Turk surveyed the three chairs set around the room’s empty fireplace. He dragged one away to the far side of the table and set the other two facing each other. “Send him through. After you bring the ale, let there be no disturbances.”

Cuthbert dipped his head and shuffled away. After the ale arrived, Turk poured himself a tankard and took a sip. He’d never been a lover of ale, and certainly not of overindulgence. The Shining Brotherhood had taught him the benefit of self-control in all things.

Someone scratched on the door.

“Come!” Turk shouted.

The door creaked open and Maddox stood in the gap, his grizzled beard and hair unkempt, his greasy cap clutched to his chest. “You wanted to see me, sir.”

“That I did.” Turk gestured him in. “Take a mug of ale with me. I’ve a question or two for you.”

“I’ve not trod on your toes I hope, sir. Never meant to if I did.”

“No, Maddox, my toes are intact.” Turk passed the mug of ale to his guest before leading him to the chairs by the fireplace.

They both sat and Maddox sipped his ale uncomfortably. His gaze darted around the room, skipping over Turk to settle on his own feet.

“I saw a boy press-ganged by some bluejackets the other night. I’m told he belonged to you,” Turk said, watching for Maddox’s reaction.

The old man’s eyes fixed on Turk’s face for a second then he looked down, his mouth set in a hard line.

“You don’t seem bothered by the loss of your pledge.” Turk sipped his ale, his chest full of angry heat at Maddox’s obvious wish to disown Mel.

Maddox’s gaze crept back to Turk’s face, a wary gleam in his eyes. “Always been trouble, that boy. Never know where he’s going or if the tyke’ll come back.”

Turk drew in a steadying breath. “So I take it you don’t want Mel back?”

Maddox scrunched his face and tipped his head to one side. “Can’t say’s I miss ’im, unreliable as he is an’ all.”

Turk’s stomach rebelled at the man’s heartlessness. He placed his mug on the brick hearth with a clack. He wanted to drag Maddox down to the harbor and toss him in the sewage where he belonged. That would satisfy his own anger, but it wouldn’t get answers.

“I gather you’ve had Mel a long time?”

Maddox downed a swallow of ale. “Since he sucked up his grub, just about.”

“Yet the thought of abandoning the lad to life aboard a Royal Barge doesn’t concern you?”

Maddox scratched the stubble on his chin. “Nothing I can do now. Boy’s gone. Likes o’ me won’t get ’im back from the bluejackets.”

“You could have petitioned my help.” Turk’s voice dropped to a lethally soft drawl.

The old man shrugged and stared into his mug.

Unable to contain his feelings, Turk jumped up and gripped the chair on either side of the old man’s head. Maddox recoiled, sloshing ale on his breeches. “Can you imagine what life would be like for a seventeen-year-old girl on a Royal Barge full of sailors?” Turk’s soft words vibrated with anger.

The blood drained out of Maddox’s face, leaving him gray as sea mist. He swallowed audibly. “Don’t know what you’re—”

“Mister Maddox, I know when people lie to me.” Turk enunciated each word carefully.

Fear swam in the old man’s bloodshot eyes as he raised them to meet Turk’s gaze. His lips trembled and he swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “What do you want of me, sir? I’ll do anything. Great Earth Jinn, save me.”

Turk backed off and put his chair between them lest he be tempted to send Maddox back to the Earth before his time. “You’ll answer my questions honestly.”

“Aye, sir. Ask away. I’ll do me best, so I will.”

“Where did you get Melba from?”

Maddox swallowed and his mug trembled in his hand. “A bluejacket from the Royal Fleet brought her to me door in the early hours. She were a wee mite. He told me to raise her as a boy. Keep those strange feet o’ hers covered up an’ all.”

“Did you know the man?”

Maddox shook his head. “Never seen him afore or since.”

“Why you?”

The old man shrugged.

“You didn’t think to refuse.”

Maddox frowned. “Course I did. No one wants to be lumbered with a girl to feed and clothe. He didn’t give me no choice. Said he’d summon a Foul Jinn to send me barmy. Said he’d know if I weren’t looking after her right. Weren’t so bad raisin’ her as a boy, though. She earned her keep running and thieving like the other lads. Best I had, truth be told. Sharp as a tack.”

“So why were you willing to let her go now? Have Foul Jinns lost their terror for you?”

“No, sir. He said she’d be taken back before she grew to be a woman. When she didn’t come home, I figured someone had claimed her. Then you mentioned the bluejackets and I thought, you know, they must be the ones.”

Turk relaxed a fraction. Maybe Maddox wasn’t as heartless as he’d thought. If a sailor had delivered Melba to his door, then having sailors take her away didn’t sound unreasonable.

“Stand up, Maddox.” The man stood, clutching his cap with white knuckles.

“You’ll not tell anyone about this conversation, and you’ll never reveal that Melba is a girl. Do I make myself clear?”

Maddox nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir.”

Just to be on the safe side, Turk took one of his starlight stones containing a small Jinn from his pocket. This would allow him to track Maddox and listen to his thoughts from a distance. “Give me your pledge.”

The old man dug in his jacket pocket and pulled out a tin disk stamped with a loaf of bread. Turk took the pledge from his palm and replaced it with the starlight stone. “Keep my pledge on you at all times.”

Maddox glanced down at the stone and swallowed hard. “Won’t hurt me, will it?”

Turk gave him a withering glance. “’Tis a pledge, man, not a Foul Jinn.” He raised a warning finger. “I’ll be watching you.”

Turk went to the door, then stopped and looked back. “You know the bunkhouse I keep for my lads?” He waited for Maddox to nod. “If you ever see the bluejacket who left the baby or if anyone contacts you about Mel, you send me a message via my man Steptoe.”

“Aye, sir, and...” Maddox paused and licked his flabby lips. “The girl. She’s safe, sir, ain’t she?”

Turk gave a single abrupt nod before striding along the back corridor and out the way he’d entered.

When he gained the first sheltered roof, he stopped and stared up at the stars. Nothing Maddox had said confirmed that Melba was the lost princess, but the evidence was compelling. Had the sailor’s threat to summon a Foul Jinn to possess Maddox been real or a bluff? Only those trained by the Shining Brotherhood had the power to summon a Jinn. But surely Turk’s beloved master, the Primate of the Shining Brotherhood, would not sanction the kidnapping of his own niece.

Chapter Three

Don’t launch your boat until you know which way the tide is running
.

—Vittorio, the Royal Victualler

Turk jumped onto the Monastery roof, deftly avoiding the trip wires set to ring alarm bells if anyone tried to enter the private community via the skyways. He dropped lightly onto the end of the covered balcony that ran the length of the west wing where senior members of the Shining Brotherhood had their chambers. Honoring the rules, he removed his boots before continuing along the mosaic tiles.

At the first door, he stopped and knocked once. He was surprised he’d had to knock at all; his master usually sensed his arrival and had the door open for him.

A whisper of warning brushed his senses. He slipped back the way he’d come and ducked out of sight. His master’s door opened and voices echoed across the dark quadrangle. A man in the golden hemp robes of the Brotherhood came out and hurried away in the opposite direction.