Mike Wild - The Clockwork King of Orl

Slowhand grinned broadly. "Been a while."

"Don't even thi — " Kali began, and then stopped. "Whoa, hold on a second here," she said. "Killiam Slowhand, are you wearing make-up?"

Slowhand slid his fingers to that part of his neck which Kali stared at, and they came away smeared with greasepaint he had missed when cleaning himself up. It was amazing how long that stuff stuck around.

"Actually, yes," he admitted. "But it's not what you think."

"Really? And what do I think?"

"Knowing you, gods only knows," Slowhand responded. He took an extravagant bow and added by way of explanation, "Killiam Slowhand's Final Filth — Every Hour On The Hour. Ta daaaa."

"You've got to be kidding me," Kali said. "You've become a troubadour?" She couldn't help herself — she started to giggle.

"Hey, a guy's got to earn a crust somehow," Slowhand said, feigning hurt. "Besides, you'd be astounded the places being a travelling player gets you."

"Oh, that's it — it's all to do with getting in here, isn't it?" Kali said.

Suddenly her smile faded and it was Slowhand's turn to study her up close. He whistled, looking concerned. "Pits, they really did a number on you, didn't they?" He stretched out a hand to stroke her cheek, but Kali pulled away, hesitated before speaking.

"'Liam… one of them… some bastard called Munch… he killed Horse."

"What? Oh, hells. Oh, hells, Kal, I'm so sorry." Slowhand's jaw tightened and pulsed, and for a second his eyes went distant, as though remembering — and noting — something. "I know how much the old nag meant to you."

"The old man, he doesn't know yet."

"The old man? Oh, you mean Merrit Moon. You haven't told him?"

Kali shook her head. "He left for the mountains. To dispose of a key."

Slowhand pushed her to arm's length. "This key. It wouldn't be anything to do with the reason Makennon had you interrogated, would it?"

"The only reason. Whatever the thing is, it's important to her."

Slowhand sighed. "So I've been told. Look, it's going to be a few minutes before we're ready to move, and, in case you hadn't noticed, before then I'm a captive audience. So why don't you tell me all about it?"

Kali did, telling everything, including the find, the old man's reaction to it, everything, including the first and second vision, the one that had resulted in her being here. Slowhand took the news of a clanking army wading through a sea of blood in reasonable stride because, like her, he had seen some things. In turn, he told her about the scrolls Makennon had tried to woo him with — the images of the Old Races and the keys that were somehow meant to be the Faith's destiny — but after both of them were done, they were none the wiser.

Slowhand listened to the activity outside the cell. "Sounds like you have things to do," he said. "So how about we get you out of here?"

Kali looked around the cell, noting that its interior was exactly the same as her own had been, presenting the same obstructions to liberty she had faced. "About that," she enquired. "Just what is it you have in mind?"

Slowhand pointed to the lock in the door, and then, disturbingly, to his shorts, which shimmered slightly. "Krunt scale," he said, proudly. "The humble krunt's greatest weapon in the survival of the fittest." Kali looked blank and he sighed, explaining as he might to a five-year-old. "Krunts are native to the waters of the Stormwall, Hooper — their scales are polarised to repel stormbolts. That means they, themselves, are magnetised."

"They also make good butties, Slowhand. So?"

Slowhand pulled a face. "So," he declared, "they're pitsing uncomfortable to wear but very handy when it comes to manipulating tumblers." He pointed at the lock again, this time with some exaggeration.

Kali couldn't do anything but stare. "Let me get this straight. You've been opening this lock with your… underpants?"

"A-ha," Slowhand said, smiling.

Kali shook her head. "Oh gods," she said. Then the full implications of what he was saying struck her. "Oh gods, Slowhand, don't you dare!"

But it was too late. Slowhand was already pulling them down over his hips, and she spun quickly away.

"Pits — why does everything you do have to involve you somehow getting naked?"

"Don't know. Maybe it's my destiny."

"Just get on with it."

"Right," Slowhand said quickly. As he spoke, he stuffed his underwear into the keyhole, forcing it through with his finger, and then stretched an arm through the bars of the door to grab what came through on the other side. He then twisted his shorts into a tight roll and began to pull them back and forth, his face pained by the angle at which he stood, but humming as he worked.

Kali could hear tumblers rolling in their housing. She didn't even want to think about what Slowhand looked like. Definitely, definitely didn't want to loo -

"Are you done yet?" she asked, biting her lip.

"Almost there," Slowhand said, strained. There was a sudden sound of metal falling into place, and then she heard him step away from the door with a sigh of satisfaction.

"Done."

Kali didn't turn. "Put them back on."

"They're a little worn," Slowhand protested.

"Put them back on!"

Kali waited while there was another sigh, a slight shuffling and then a polite cough. These sounds were followed by a creak. She turned to see the door had been opened wide, and the corridor beckoned outside.

"Madam," Slowhand said, with an exaggerated flourish.

The two of them peeped out into the corridor, and saw for the moment that it was empty, the guards, as Slowhand had said, between shifts. But though they weren't there to sound an alarm, there was an immediate clamour from the other prisoners, who stared at them through their bars.

"Oh pits, it's 'im," one said. "No, no, what ah mean is nice bit o' singin', there, Mister. Voice of an angel, you 'ave. Come orrn, let us out."

"Don't say that — he might do an encore."

"It's a calculated risk. Look, do you wanna get yer arse out o' here or not?"

"Can I 'ave five minutes to fink about it?"

"Sorry, boys," Slowhand said. The truth was, he regretted having to leave them here but there was no other choice in the matter. Two might make it out of Scholten Cathedral alive but any more would leave them wide open to detection. He placed his hand on Kali's shoulder and ushered her along the corridor, following close behind. But as they reached its end, they heard footsteps on stone — the new shift descending the stairs.

Kali motioned for Slowhand to freeze and then flattened herself against the wall. As they passed her unnoticed form and saw Slowhand, they drew their swords, and she stepped out and tapped them both on the shoulder. She flattened the first with an open-palmed punch to the face, and Slowhand handled the second with a blow to the neck from behind.

Kali bent down to one of the crumpled guards and snatched his ring of keys. She tossed it to one of the prisoners they had left behind, who caught them in a hand projecting through the bars. "A half-hour before you make your move," she said, and pointed at Slowhand. "Or he starts to sing."

"Oh, funny," Slowhand said. He punched both guards in the face again to make sure they stayed out cold, then said, indicating the cells: "That's running a risk."

"Hopefully, they'll make it out. But if they don't, they'll provide us with a good diversion."

Slowhand looked at her, surprised. "A little cold and calculating, for you, Hooper."

"Last few days. I'm learning."

Slowhand nodded. As he did, Kali began to strip the tabards and unbuckle the armour from the guards. He placed a hand on hers. "What are you doing?"

"Getting us some clothing. You, in particular."

Slowhand shook his head. "Armour will do us no good where we're going, believe me. And you'd look a bit obvious in just a tabard. Cute, but obvious."