A few people stopped and stared, but no one took after them, nor stood in their way. That was nearly unimaginable to Rose, though she was grateful for their indifference. In the small town she’d grown up in, there would have been half the population of Main Street out to chase down people running away from a jail.
Here in the city, it appeared to be nothing more than a passing curiosity.
And then a great whistle went off, piercing the air and rolling over the rooftops like a banshee screaming. It must be a siren telling the city they had escaped. It must be calling in more men, more guns, more matics to stop them.
“Where are we going?” Rose asked as Mr. Wicks paused at the end of the alley and turned left.
“Did you bring your ship, Captain Hink?” Alun asked.
“No. Came in by other means,” Hink panted. He looked a little flushed and Rose suddenly remembered that he’d been shot before pounding his way through a brawl. Some of that blood on his coat might not be from the man he was carrying. It might be his own.
“Train,” Hink added. “And air cable.”
“Both?” Bryn asked, suddenly seeming interested in the conversation. “How so?”
“I’d be happy to tell you, Bryn Madder,” Hink said. “So long as we survive this. You gents have any notions up your sleeves? Like, say, a bomb or two?”
“Not as much as,” Alun said. He pulled up short at the next opening to the street and reached out and grabbed hold of Wicks’s coat to drag him back into the shadows. “You hear that?” he asked.
Mr. Wicks shook his head. “Hear what?”
“Wagon wheels.”
“It’s a city, Mr. Madder. It’s filled with wagon wheels.”
“But these wheels are special.”
“How so?”
“They’re mine.” He stepped out and put his fingers to his lips, letting off a piercing whistle Rose had heard many times when traveling with them.
“Your wheels?” she asked. “Someone has your wagon?”
“I’m hoping it’s Mr. Hunt or Mae Lindson.”
“Hoping?” Mr. Wicks said. “You’re betting our lives on a vague hope?”
“I’ve bet more on less,” Alun said. “Haven’t regretted it. Often.”
“This…this is ridiculous. Risky.”
“Says the man who just broke out of jail.”
Wicks shut up and gave Madder a slight smile. “You and I have had too little time to come to a full understanding of where we each stand for the good of this great country,” he said.
“Let’s not lose the mystery.” Alun patted Wicks on the shoulder, then stood out in the middle of the street and waved the wagon down.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Cedar knew that whistle. He guided the horses down a side street and up another.
There, in the middle of the road, stood Alun Madder. He had his pipe in one hand, blood drying on his knuckles. One eye looked like it was swelling shut. He also had a huge grin on his face.
“Ho there, Mr. Hunt. Have you found the Holder yet?”
Cedar set the brake on the wagon. “We came to break you out of jail.”
“Kind of you, but as you can see, unnecessary. As we told you, we Madders come and go as we please. The Holder?”
“I know where it is.”
“Is it at hand?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then by all means, be exact, Mr. Hunt.”
“There’s no time. We need to get you…” He glanced up, saw Captain Hink, Rose Small, a man who he didn’t know, and the other Madders.
“Rose,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“Currently, I’m running for my life. Mind if we put this man in the back of the wagon? He’s hurt terribly.”
And that’s when Cedar realized it was Father Kyne over Hink’s shoulder.
“Yes, of course,” Mae said, hopping down from the wagon and rushing to the back, where she helped Hink and Rose get Father Kyne settled.
“Did you bring your ship?” Cedar asked as Hink strode by.
“Nope. Flew a train.”
Cedar wasn’t sure he’d heard that correctly.
“We won’t be needing a ship, Mr. Hunt,” Alun said. “We need an answer.” He rested his hand on the side of the wagon. “Where is the Holder?”
“Nearby, but beyond my reach.”
Alun grinned. “You’re beginning to sound like my youngest brother, Mr. Hunt. Can’t have that, he’ll get jealous. Tell me.”
“I’ll tell you when we’re out of town.”
“Perhaps you haven’t been listening to me,” Alun said. “We can’t leave this town. Can’t. Not won’t, not might. Can’t. That man?” He tipped his head toward the back of the wagon where Father Kyne was being laid out. “We’re bound by our promise to his words and his exact words were…” He looked over at Cadoc.
“‘You will find every child lost by this city and return them to their family and homes, and will not leave this city until you have done so,’” Cadoc intoned.
Alun nodded. “Those words, Mr. Hunt, those exact words bind us. We must find every last child and bring each home. Our feet won’t cross the boundaries of the city until we do just that.”
“Maybe it’s time you consider breaking a promise.”
“Thought about it,” Alun admitted. “If we let Father Kyne die, then we’d be released from the promise. Should we let the man die, Mr. Hunt?”
“Some might.”
“Maybe we should. But then, that’s the problem with promises. Each side offers up a little something of their soul for them and has a vested stake in the outcome. I don’t see any reason to leave, or to break our promise to the father back there, if you’re not doing your part to fulfill your promise to bring us the Holder. You say it’s here; I see no reason to leave.”
“I said it’s beyond my reach.”
“Where?”
“Beneath the ice, beneath the river,” Cedar said. “Out of my reach and any other man’s. Now, are you going to get in the wagon or wait for the lawmen to find you standing in the middle of the street?”
“Depends on where this wagon is going.”
“Father Kyne needs medicines,” Mae said. “We go back to the church and tend him.”
“Mae,” Cedar said, “We don’t have time.”
“He’s dying,” she said with a blank sort of matter-of-factness that did little to hide the anger in her eyes. “He’d want to do that in the heart of his church. That much we can give to him for what he’s given us.”
“Doesn’t much matter where a man exhales his last breath,” Alun said.
“I disagree with you, Mr. Madder,” Mae said, and her words were made of iron. “He’ll have the house of God around him.”
Then she climbed up into the seat next to Cedar. “As quickly as you can, Mr. Hunt.”
Alun caught the running board as the wagon started rolling. “Don’t suppose you know what injured him so?” Alun asked.
“He carried the curse while I hunted,” Cedar said. “While Wil and I hunted.”
Alun was silent, then finally shook his head. “The Kyne men are some of the toughest I’ve even known.” It was the first time Cedar had heard respect in Alun’s tone for the father.
“I’ll clamber back,” Alun said. “The church is as good as any place to hole up while you go get us the Holder, Mr. Hunt.”
“I’m not doing that for you, Mr. Madder.”
“If you want this man’s death to be worth anything, if you want the world to be safe from plague and famine and destruction, you will change your mind, Mr. Hunt. You and I can have a difference of opinion, but in the end, all that matters is the Holder. If we don’t bring it to rest, then the living won’t be living for long. And there will be no hope to save a single soul from the devastation that will befall us all.”
Alun worked his way back along the wagon, nimble and quick, then swung in beneath the cover.