Matthew walked forward to where Zed was standing motionless, as he must have sometimes stood watching the life of New York pass by from the rooftop of City Hall. When Zed realized Matthew was there, he instantly turned himself toward his visitor. Matthew thought that, whether at war or at peace, the Ga was a fearsome sight. But there was nothing to fear now. At least for a while, the war was over. And…perhaps…Zed’s long life of peace was soon to begin.
“You’ve saved my life more than once,” Matthew told him. “You probably can’t understand me, but I thank you for your…um…presence. I’m sure Berry won’t let you leave without speaking, and neither will McCaggers. I wish you good fortune, Zed.” Matthew thought it was peculiar, that he would never know this man’s real name. And also, in a way, terribly sad. He held out his hand.
Zed took a step forward. His mouth opened. He tried to speak. He tried very hard. He squeezed his eyes shut to try to make the stub of his tongue form a word. His face contorted. But for all his strength, he had not the power to utter a single syllable. His eyes opened. He took Matthew’s hand in a grip that tightened just to the point of breakage. Then he put a finger beside his left eye and drew that finger out along a line until it pointed at Matthew.
I’ll be watching you, he said.
And somehow Matthew was sure of that. Even at a distance from here to Africa. If anyone could cast their eye across a sea, to view a world left behind and those left in it, Zed could.
“Goodbye,” Matthew said, and when he left the Nightflyer Zed was still standing at the bow, silently regarding what he was leaving and ready perhaps to take the daring flight into his future.
Matthew was on his way home along Queen Street, thankful to have gotten through the throng and all the well-wishers, when a voice called, “Matthew! My God, there you are!”
He paused to look behind. Of course Matthew had instantly recognized the voice. Effrem Owles, tall and gangly, with his large round eyes behind his spectacles and though only at twenty years of age the premature gray streaking his brown hair. As befitted the tailor’s son, he wore a very nice tan-colored suit. But here was the rub: Matthew felt a pang of guilt as Effrem approached. Though Effrem smiled as if the entire world was his thread and needle, Matthew knew he must still be in great pain. After all, the family business had been destroyed by Professor Fell’s Cymbeline bombs. And, truth be told, Matthew felt responsible for that catastrophe because he had resisted the professor’s will.
“I heard you and Berry had arrived! I thought I’d get there to see you, but…”
“But here you are now,” said Matthew, and he clapped his friend on the shoulder. “You look fine, Effrem. How’s your father?”
“He’s very good, Matthew. But where have you been for so long? I understood you were in the hospital that night, and then you just vanished?”
“A long story. One I’ll keep for some other time. All right?”
“Of course. I won’t press you.” They began walking together, side by side and north along Queen Street. After a moment Effrem said, “I suppose you haven’t heard, then?”
“Heard what?”
“The news, Matthew! Oh, how could you have heard? Come with me, won’t you?”
“Come with you where?”
“To the shop! I want to show you!”
Effrem started striding away, and Matthew followed. They were heading toward the corner of Crown and Smith streets. A fateful corner, Matthew thought. It was where the Owles’ tailor shop had stood, before it had been blown into burning bits. The pang of guilt became stronger. Matthew faltered. He wasn’t sure he could go on.
“Keep walking, Matthew!” Effrem urged. He stopped to wait for his friend and for a haywagon to trundle past. “I know you must be tired, but I want to show you—”
“Effrem,” said Matthew. “I do remember. All right? I know what happened to your father’s shop. I’m so very sorry, and I hope you don’t hold it against me. Now…there’s no need for you to take me to the ruins. I will do whatever I can to—”
“The ruins?” Effrem’s eyes had widened. “Oh no, Matthew! Not ruins! Come on, it’s not much further! Please!” He grabbed at Matthew’s sleeve to pull him along.
They came in sight of the corner, and there Matthew stopped as if he’d run into a stone wall.
Not ruins.
A new tailor shop, built with sturdy red bricks and a coppered roof. Matthew got himself moving again, and as he neared the beautiful place he saw painted along the bottom of the glass window in front: Effrem Owles, Master Tailor. And below that, Benjamin Owles, Consulting Tailor.
“I have the shop now,” said Effrem proudly, and he did puff his chest out a little. Then he waved at someone and called, “Here he is! I found him!”
Matthew saw a slim young woman approaching. She was dressed simply and elegantly, in a dark blue gown and a hat the same. She had jet-black hair, and she was quite the lovely. She walked with a purpose, and her purpose was to reach Effrem Owles by the fastest possible route. Thus she gave Effrem a smile that shamed the April sun, and he returned that smile, and by those obvious clues it did not take a problem-solver to deduce that love bloomed eternal and between the least likely couples.
“Hello, Opal,” said Matthew.
“’lo, Matthew,” she said, but she was all eyes for her owl. “We heard you got back. Effrem went runnin’.”
“Missed him at the dock, though. Had to catch up.”
“I’d like to be caught up.” Matthew regarded the new tailor shop. “Built so strongly, and so quickly! It must have cost a pretty penny!” He had to ask the next question: “Your father had enough money to rebuild?”
“No, he didn’t,” Effrem answered. “But…that was before.”
“Before what?”
Effrem looked at Opal. “Go ahead, tell him.”
She scruffed the street with a shoe. She shrugged. “Just a thing, it was. I mean, it didn’t mean nothin’ to me. So I thought…y’know…somebody could get some good from it.”
“Will you speak sense, please?” Matthew urged.
She lifted her face and peered up at him with her very bright blue eyes. “The ring you gave me. With the red stone. Turned out it was the nicest ruby the jewel buyer ever seen.”
Matthew made the sound of a man being punched in the stomach by a baby’s fist: “Oh.”
The ring from Tyranthus Slaughter’s treasure box. Presented to Opal for her good deed in helping Matthew uncover Lyra Sutch’s plot, back in October. Matthew thought that knowing he had been responsible for such a kindness as this would have made Slaughter’s bones writhe in the grave.
“That is wonderful,” said Matthew.
“She is wonderful,” Effrem corrected. He put his arm around her shoulders, she put her arm around his waist, and suddenly Matthew felt like he needed to put his arm around a crate of wine bottles and drink to good deeds, good luck, good fortune, and the goodness of love.
Effrem excused himself from Opal for a moment while he walked with Matthew back to Queen Street. “Listen,” Effrem said quietly, though the street was certainly not crowded. “About Berry.”
“What about her?”
“I am out of her picture. Yes, I do believe she fancied me. But Matthew, I can’t be courting two ladies!”
“No, it would be unseemly,” Matthew agreed.
“Correct! So…if she asks about me, or says anything…would you be the one to tell her that I am walking the serious road with Opal?”
“The serious road?” Matthew didn’t wait for an explanation, nor did he need it. “I certainly will be the one to tell her, if she asks.”