Devon Monk - Tin Swift

“Oh?”

“Yes. We came here with great haste because you were here.”

Every nerve in Cedar’s body flashed cold and a rush of wariness swept through him.

“Oh?” he said again.

“We are of a joint acquaintance, you and I,” she said. “The Madder brothers. Perhaps you know them, yes?”

“We’ve met,” Cedar said.

“They informed me, all of us, that they were looking for you. With great need. I believe you owe them a favor.”

“Did you speak to them recently?” Cedar asked.

“Yes.”

“So they found their way safely out of Vicinity?”

“Yes. But they had to see to some repairs of their equipment and knew it would cause a delay. So they sent messages to locate you.”

It didn’t come as a great surprise that the brothers had found a way to send a message to people who had airships at their disposal. There seemed to be no pot the Madders wouldn’t stick their clever fingers into.

“Messages to whom?” he asked.

She paused, and stared out across the dark peaks of mountains that stood like fortress walls in the distance, cotton-topped with mist.

“We are here to see that the Strange do not take over this new world,” she said.

“You hunt the Strange?” Cedar asked.

She turned her gaze back him. “We search for them. Sometimes we find them, or find the people they have harmed. There are very few in this world who can see them. Fewer still who can hunt them.”

She slid a smile his way. “Theobald, myself, and Joonie can see them. You, however, can hunt them, or so I am told. That is a very rare gift. So rare that the Madders sent us to find you. Any of us who could travel quickly.”

“Find me? For what?” Cedar asked.

“A gift such as yours? You are our ears, our eyes, and our teeth. You can destroy the Strange where we simply try to control their spread, close their trails, break their weapons. You can find the Holder, as if it were a fresh blood trail, and keep it safe from Strange hands. You are one of us, Mr. Hunt. And we want you to join our cause.”

“I don’t know what you think you know of me, Miss Dupuis, but I am no one’s servant. I neither follow nor pledge to any man’s cause.”

“You carry upon you a curse from the gods of these lands,” she said with a nod. “I can see the beast within you, as can Mr. Theobald. You have given your pledge to find the Holder for the Madder brothers. Will you turn from that now?”

Cedar wondered if he already had. He’d promised Captain Hink he’d find the Holder, just as he’d promised the Madders he would find it. But the weapon could be given to only one man. And he didn’t know whom he should trust with it.

“That agreement is between me and the Madder brothers.”

“They are great men,” she said. “Steadfast in this fight. But these times have been…difficult. We have lost so many.”

She searched his face, perhaps looking for sympathy there. He had none to give her.

“The Madders may prefer secrets and riddles,” she said, “but I prefer to be clear. I am going to ask you plainly, Mr. Hunt. Will you join us? Become a protector of this great land, this great world and see that the rising tide of Strange is turned back?”

The wind rose, pushing at his back, and drawing Miss Dupuis’s carefully coifed hair into ribbons around her face. Far off, a hawk circled the shadows of trees, calling out once before it climbed higher.

He didn’t know enough about the group of people she wanted him to join to make a decision in their favor. His promise to the Madders would stand. He’d find the Holder. But that didn’t mean he wanted to spend his life killing Strange for those who could not.

“I have my own path to walk, Miss Dupuis, my own…family to keep safe. The very last thing I would do right now is leave them behind. I cannot travel with you, nor join your cause. The curse I carry is no gift, no matter what the Madders think. And I will not live my life beneath its demands. Thank you for the walk. Good day.”

Cedar turned to stroll back to the landing area. Did he believe that Miss Dupuis and others could fight the Strange? Yes. But that fight had never been his choice. The “gift,” as she called it, given to him by the Pawnee gods was a curse that had nearly killed his brother, and destroyed both of their lives.

He would be free of it if he could.

He owed the Madders a favor, and had given his word to Captain Hink. He would see those things through. Find the Holder, then bring the Madders and Hink together to discuss just where the weapon should be kept.

But first, the Holder would be in his hands. And he would use it to cure Rose. Then he would take Rose, Mae, and Wil to the coven, where their curses would be put to rest once and for all.

And if that happened, if his curse were broken, he wouldn’t be the kind of man Miss Dupuis or her cause would want among them any longer.

Something crackled under his boots. Glass.

He stopped, looked down, and took a step back. Green glass rolled away from his boot, roughly in the shape of a teardrop the size of his head. He had broken a globe. He bent, picked up the remains. It stank of gunpowder and oil. He looked around from his crouched position to see where it might have fallen from.

A flash of light caught his eye. From this angle, he could see through a slot in the cliff face along the way he had come. Miss Dupuis stood a ways down the path still. Over her shoulder, where it wouldn’t be noticed until at least another turn in the path, burned a green-yellow light, bright enough to hurt the eyes, even in the afternoon.

He knew what it was. Globes, like the one he had broken at his feet, coupled with mirrors which were set up across the peaks, catching and shooting that light to more and more mirrors scattered across the peaks to the east. Those globes were carefully shrouded so that no light was reflected here at the landing area.

It was a signal system that stretched for miles.

But for what. Or who?

Cedar left the glass behind and jogged to the ship. He strode over to Captain Hink, who was cranking a wrench against a bolt to secure the trawling arm.

“Captain,” Cedar said to Captain Hink’s back, “a word with you?”

“Don’t need my hands or eyes to listen. Speak up, Mr. Hunt.”

“What’s the signal light for?”

Hink grunted as he squeezed the last turn out of the bolt. “What signal light?”

“A flare, burning in a glass globe and reflecting off mirrors across the peaks.”

Hink froze. Then, “What color was it?”

“Green and yellow.”

“Son of a bitch,” Hink swore. “Get the women on the ship, now. Get what supplies you can grab. I’m going to go beat the hell out of Old Jack.”

He pushed past him, but Cedar grabbed his arm.

“What is the signal for?”

“It tells whoever Jack’s made a deal with that he has the person they’re looking for. He must have lit it last night sometime. Whoever wants me, or you, or hell, maybe Captain Beaumont over there, is close enough to see the signal and is on their way here. With guns. Get the women on board. Now.”

Hink pulled his arm out of Cedar’s grip and broke into a run. “Molly Gregor,” he yelled, “fire that boiler. We’ve been spotted and we’ve been flared. Tell Beaumont’s crew!”

Hink’s crew scrambled like a kicked hive of wasps. They secured nets, outrigs, and set the slip on the lashes as fast as they could.

Cedar ran back toward the cavern and passed Molly Gregor as she was running toward the ship. “Make it quick, Mr. Hunt!” she shouted.

Cedar rushed through the halls, taking the turns by memory to their sleeping quarters. Wil looked up from where he had been dozing as Cedar pounded into the room.