“Do you have any idea how much city morgue attendants make in a year?”
“No idea at all.”
“Neither do I, really. But rumor has it they’ll do almost anything for ten times their annual salary in Old Kingdom coin. Look the other way for a half hour, for instance.”
I whistled. “Good Captain Holder is going to burst a vein when he finds out.”
Evis shrugged. “We didn’t get the knife. I wanted that knife, and a sample of whatever was on the blade. Are you sure it never touched you?”
“Next time I’ll remember to get a flesh wound.”
We paused to let a parade of black-clad halfdead float by. Each held a long-barreled version of my hand cannon.
I pretended not to notice. Evis winked and resumed walking as soon as they were past.
“What’s a Mark Two, anyway, and why isn’t it a beer?”
“It’s a new revolver. Smaller than that blunderbuss you have but don’t carry. Fires six rounds instead of four, and in half the time. Small enough to conceal in a pocket. More stopping power, too.”
“Evis, thanks. But I couldn’t have opened up with that hand-cannon in a hotel lobby if I’d had it. I start shooting and somebody’s granny is going to get shot, and Captain Holder won’t need a good reason to bury me under the Old Ruth.”
“So take careful aim. Look. If one of the Corpsemaster’s old enemies has decided to take you out, you’re going to need more than a blade and you know it.”
“You say this Mark Two is smaller and more powerful?”
“We’ve improved the powder. The projectile is smaller but much faster.”
“Any chance I can get two of the miracle dinguses?”
“Get three or half a dozen. Why?”
“I want Darla to have one. Just in case.”
“Not a bad idea.”
We paused again, this time to let a trio of white-coated day folk huff and puff as they shoved some enormous mechanical contrivance around a corner.
I watched them wrestle with the thing, which made ominous buzzing noises as it moved.
“Just what are you people up to down here, Evis?”
He smiled a toothy vampire smile.
“Wouldn’t you love to know?”
Chapter Six
One of the many dark secrets hidden far beneath the neat slate roof of House Avalante is a vast, gloomy chamber they call the New Battery.
The New Battery is a firing range. There, I joined Evis and a few dozen somber, halfdead soldiers who were also practicing their aim with the long-barreled firearms they call rifles.
Evis tried to explain the name to me. The rifle barrels are filled with grooves, also called rifles, which causes the rounds to spin, which causes them to fly straight and true. My Mark Two revolver has grooves too, although at least two passing halfdead marksmen scoffed at the idea any mere handgun could benefit from such grooves.
I spent two hours down in the near-dark and expended several hundred of Avalante’s rounds before I could claim to hit a man-sized target twenty feet away more than half the time. Evis amused himself by using his own Mark Two to add eyes and a cheery smile to his target.
My stomach growled loud enough for the rumble to be heard above the crack crack crack of a dozen rifles. I lowered my weapon and stepped back from the firing line.
“You’re a long way from being any good with that,” said Evis.
“I’ll just throw it when I run out of bullets. I’m hungry and Darla will be home soon. I don’t want her to be home alone.”
“You should bring her here. Stay until we get a handle on the stabby brunettes. Ancient bugaboo or not, they won’t get past the front doors. Not in one piece.”
I popped out the spent cartridges, just as Evis taught, and replaced them with live rounds before pushing the cylinder back in place and listening for the sharp snap that tells you it’s ready to fire.
“If it comes to that we will. Thanks, Evis. I owe you. Again.”
He shrugged it off with a grin. “Least I can do for Captain Markhat, Hero of the Realm. By the way, we’ve set a date for the Queen’s maiden voyage. We depart in two weeks. Special guests and all.”
“I’ll be ready. Got to earn my exorbitant fee.”
Evis nodded and set about slaughtering a fresh paper target. I headed toward the New Battery’s only door and began the long uphill climb toward the sun.
Darla beat me home. She was sitting on our porch swing, a cup of chamomile tea steaming in her hands, when the cab dropped me off at the curb.
Our neighbors were outdoors as well. The man of the house was watering their new rosebushes while his lady critiqued his pouring style. Darla hid her grin behind her cup.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite husband,” she said, patting the seat beside her in invitation. “How was your day?”
I could smell soup cooking inside. I sat and my stomach rumbled audibly.
“Oh, lunch with the Regent, croquet in the Park, that sort of thing,” I said. “Deadly dull, I’m afraid.”
Darla nodded, all smiles. “So that wasn’t you who was attacked by a woman, saved by an Ogre, and hauled off to jail right after?”
“I’m glad you and Gertriss stay in touch.”
“She’s worried sick.” Darla balanced her empty cup carefully on the windowsill and settled close beside me. “I told her not to worry-that you had a plan, that you weren’t just stumbling through trouble hoping it all goes away. Was I wrong about that, dearest? Please tell me I wasn’t wrong.”
“Me? Stumble? Hope? You know better than that. I was in fact lying in wait for that crazed woman, knowing a pair of sturdy Ogres stood vigilant nearby.”
She pinched me.
“Ouch.”
“That’s for fibbing. Darling. Honey. Light of my life. You didn’t even draw your sword?”
“Honest, hon. I knew the Ogres would be getting involved. If they’d found me with Toadsticker drawn, facing a woman, they’d have raised their formidable Ogre fists and clobbered me first.”
She sighed. “That’s why they’re sending women, you know. Because they know you’ll hesitate.”
“Maybe I did the first time. But I didn’t today, and I won’t again.”
“You’d better not. I certainly won’t.” She stood before I could speak. “Supper is ready. Are you hungry?”
“Famished. The Regent sets a poor table for lunch. Nothing but tiny little sandwiches and parsley.”
“Still better than a tin cup of gruel at the Old Ruth.”
I stood and offered Darla my arm.
“Gertriss talks too much.”
“My husband talks too little.”
“Nonsense. I wished you a good morning just last Tuesday.”
I opened our door like a gentleman, and locked it tight behind.
Darla washes. I dry.
We both kept an eye on the kitchen window above the sink. The window looks out on the tiny fenced yard in the back of our house. There’s a poplar tree and a struggling young blood-oak back there. Darla wants a gazebo. I’m not sure what we’ll do with a gazebo but one of these days I’ll hire a couple of carpenters and we’ll build one where the poplar can shade it in fifteen years, if it hurries.
The sun set as I dried the last cup. Darla closed the kitchen window’s wooden shutters and locked them tight. I reflected that a single half-hearted punch would rip the latch apart and probably tear the shutters out of their frame as well.
“Did Gertriss mention Evis and his offer of a room half a mile under Avalante?”
Darla nodded. “I’ll not be chased out of our home by any crazed floozy,” she said.
“She was a floozy? I had no idea. How can one tell? Purely in the spirit of inquiry, that is.”
Darla used another word I’d never heard her pronounce.
“Such language,” I said.
“Would you be a dear and lock the rest of the windows, hon?” She reached into her apron pocket and withdrew a shiny silver revolver, a near twin to the inky black one I was waiting to give her. “I want to change and get ready for bed. Or battle. Whichever comes first.”