Emma Holloway - A Study in Ashes

The captain fished inside his filthy coat and extracted a soft leather case. From it, he drew a fistful of papers that he thrust at Nick. “Take these to your Baskervilles. Same terms as mine. I trust you to see us right, my boy, because you of all of us play a fair game. It’s damned convenient you’re not dead.”

Nick shuffled through the pages, a light-headed sensation overtaking him. There were dozens of papers, each one representing a pirate ship and its crew, each one outlining a request for pardon in return for service.

He started to chuckle out loud. This wasn’t a few disgruntled thieves. This was an armada.

Dartmoor, October 5, 1889

BASKERVILLE HALL

3:17 p.m. Saturday

TOBIAS POUNDED ON the door of his room, awkward because he was using his left hand. He’d fallen asleep sometime yesterday and had just come to, pausing just long enough to dress before mounting an angry assault on the door. Disorientation swamped him. He recalled the journey down from London with Evelina and coming to Baskerville Hall. After that, things got fuzzy.

But he knew two things: he was missing the key to Evelina’s bracelets, and the damned door was locked. Everything else flowed from there.

He raised his fist to pound again, but the door flew open. It was Dr. Watson. “Mr. Roth,” he said sharply. “Calm yourself!”

“What’s going on?” Tobias snapped.

“You fell asleep,” the doctor said, a little more softly. “You were ill and exhausted. We put you to bed.”

The exhausted part had been true—the last weeks had been nightmarish, to say the least. Although Tobias would never admit it, he felt better for the rest. “We were drinking in the library,” he remembered. “Did you put something in that brandy, Doctor? And where is Evelina?”

The name hung in the air, unnaturally resonant.

“We had begun to talk about contact poisons,” Watson continued as if he hadn’t spoken. He walked forward, forcing Tobias back into the room. Although the doctor was the shorter man, his confident bonhomie made one automatically obey. “I grew curious, so I took the liberty of making an examination once you were asleep.”

Instinctively, Tobias looked at his right hand. His fingers weren’t swollen anymore, but the tips had bruised. Is that normal? What does that mean? The poison had burrowed into his imagination, a lethal and unpredictable fairy that had him at the mercy of its caprice. But after serving the Gold King, that almost felt normal.

“Your gesture gives you away,” said Watson. “You knew precisely what you were asking when you raised the subject of poisoning by touch. It’s a variety I’ve encountered before, by the way. Where did you come in contact with it?”

“Papers,” Tobias answered curtly. “I touched papers coated with the substance, and I was told there is no cure.”

“Which was why I imagine you left London without a word,” Watson added. “Evelina knew nothing of your condition. Very noble, trying to spare your family the pain of watching your illness progress.”

Since that had been exactly what he’d been thinking, Tobias didn’t even flinch. “I thought I could put Evelina into her uncle’s care toward the end.”

“Very sensible,” said the doctor.

Tobias turned away, bracing his hands on the windowsill and looking out at the rolling moors. “How much time do I have?”

Watson hesitated. “How do you feel? Nausea? Numbness?”

“Not bad, actually. Better than before.”

“There is a—not an antidote, but another drug that slows the action of the poison. You appear to have responded well.”

That made Tobias turn around. “You treated me?”

“I’m a doctor,” Watson said. “Are you refusing my care?”

“I’m the Gold King’s maker. Evelina’s jailor. Why would you lift a finger to help me?”

“Dear God, you’re a young man in trouble, not the arch villain of a melodrama. From the first moment I ever met you, you’ve been reeling on the brink. Take the medicine. I don’t know precisely how long it will work, but you should have an extra month of reasonable health. That will at least give you the time to put your affairs in order.”

Another month . Combined with the time he had left anyway, that might make six weeks. Or eight. It was too little and too much. Too little to fix anything and more than he had nerve for. All the walls he’d built around his panic ripped open, spilling terror like entrails.

“I killed the Scarlet King,” Tobias blurted out, not knowing that he was going to say it. “The reason Keating agreed to let me come here is to escape any possibility of scandal.” He was aware of Holmes materializing in the doorway, but he didn’t care. “My wife and son are in London. They’re the ones Keating cares about.”

“And your job is to go quietly to the grave, is that it?” Holmes asked. “Was it the Scarlet King who killed you?”

It sounded like a question for a séance, and Tobias laughed. It sounded hysterical. “Yes.”

“You’re in good company. The crown prince died last night of the same affliction.”

“What?” Tobias wheeled to face the detective. “The prince is dead?”

“Discoveries are coming thick and fast.” Holmes exchanged a look with Watson. “Intriguing news on all sides, it seems.”

“Besides the prince?”

“There will be a riot for the evening papers. Not only is His Royal Highness deceased, Her Majesty’s Laboratories are burned, and the body of the Scarlet King was discovered bobbing face down more or less where the Gray King was found last year.”

“They found Reading!” Tobias exclaimed.

Watson looked grim. “It is fairly certain that any usable evidence will have been destroyed by the water.”

“Of course, Keating has quietly annexed all of Scarlet’s interests beginning with his air fleet,” Holmes went on. “The Steam Council will no doubt object with predictable results. It seems, Mr. Roth, that you may well have pulled the trigger that fires off a civil war.”

“I know,” Tobias murmured under his breath. Well, don’t say I never did anything with my life . But it had been easy to be a fatalist before he had been a father. Now he would have given anything, everything for more time with his son, and he would pay twice that to know Jeremy and Alice stayed safe.

“The incident with Her Majesty’s Laboratories is of particular interest. All those connected with its destruction have vanished,” said Holmes. “Including my niece.” The way Holmes said it made it clear Evelina’s disappearance had been planned in advance.

“Really?” Tobias replied. “And that has nothing to do with why I was locked in this room?”

Holmes looked almost apologetic. “I suppose you will wish to mount a search, Mr. Roth?”

“No, let her go.”

“Will not the Gold King take that as a dereliction of duty?” Dr. Watson asked.

But Tobias was already staggering under the weight of what Holmes and the doctor had told him. He sat down on the edge of his bed. Six weeks. Maybe eight . “No doubt he will, but I don’t have much time and Evelina has suffered enough at his hands. The least I can do is let her go.”

“You will hear no objection from me,” said Holmes, “although I fear Mr. Keating will hardly let you return home. Not with the Scarlet King’s murder still under investigation.”

Holmes was, of course, completely correct. Tobias cursed softly. The crown prince was dead, war was upon them, and all the choices Tobias had made looked wrong. It was time to stop betting on the steam baron least likely to harm the ones he loved. Playing it safe had already cost him his life. Now it was time to fight.