Devon Monk - Cold Copper

There were no children here. There were no Strange. Whatever they had seen at the mine’s entrance, whether it be an illusion cast there by Strange, ghosts, or his own tired imagination, they were not here.

But the one thing that Cedar had discovered in the room was the smell of hickory and cherry cologne, the scent he’d noticed on Mayor Vosbrough when they’d met. His stomach knotted, and he paced his breath to calm the sudden fear that rolled through him.

The mayor had been here. Recently. But Cedar had no explanation for his fear.

“What a pleasant surprise.”

Cedar turned. The mayor walked through the door and froze as soon as he saw Wil.

“A wolf—,” he started.

“Belongs to me,” Cedar said. His heart was still pumping. This man, the mayor, set Cedar’s instincts clamoring. He was danger. He was pain.

The mayor smiled, but did not move. “You certainly are an interesting man, Cedar Hunt. Would you like to tell me why I’ve found you in our generator room? And do make it a good reason; otherwise I’ll be obliged to escort you to jail.”

“I was told there are children missing in your town. Thought I saw them out at the mine entrance when I was riding by. Thought they might have wandered down these tunnels and gotten lost.”

“How altruistic of you,” he said, then, in a more friendly tone, “And how thoughtful. Most men would have notified the authorities instead of trespassing on private property.”

“I saw no signs posted.”

“That’s because this is Vosbrough land and a private Vosbrough mine. I don’t have to post signs. The town understands that if I find anyone near these tunnels without invite, I’ll shoot them dead.”

Cedar’s fear crystallized into anger. “Is that what you’re planning to do?” he asked very calmly.

The mayor glanced at Wil, then back at Cedar. He smiled. “Of course not, Mr. Hunt. I’ll chalk this up to an honest mistake on your part. But I insist on escorting you off of my land.”

He took one step, eyes on Wil. Wil growled.

There was nothing that would make Cedar agree to let this man walk behind him up these narrow tunnels.

“How about we follow you out,” Cedar said.

Vosbrough’s eyes tightened. He didn’t like the idea of Cedar at his back either.

“The wolf can go first,” Cedar offered.

“Yes, I suppose that will do.” Vosbrough took three steps to clear the doorway for Wil to pass.

Wil walked through it, and paused, waiting for Vosbrough to follow.

“After you, Mayor,” Cedar said.

Vosbrough ducked out into the tunnel, Cedar behind him.

“What is the generator for?” he asked.

“Nothing, yet,” the mayor said. “But I have plans to bring this town into the modern world. To make it a wonder of communication and transportation. This generator is only part of that plan. An advance I expect you to keep quiet, Mr. Hunt.”

Some of what the mayor was saying might be true, but one thing wasn’t. The generator was being used. It was still hot, electricity still crackling down the wires.

“Have you tested it?” he asked.

“I don’t see any reason to continue on this subject, Mr. Hunt. How exactly did you come across a tame wolf?”

“He’s not tame.”

“Then you’d best keep him out of my city. We shoot dangerous animals.”

“I’ll keep a close eye on him,” Cedar said. It was both a promise and a warning.

They stepped out into the cold air.

“I know you travel with the Madder brothers, Mr. Hunt. And I hate to judge a man by his companions. But if you cross me”—Vosbrough smiled and swung up onto his horse—“I will make your remaining days very unpleasant.”

Vosbrough urged his horse down the hill, away from the mine.

Cedar doused his lantern and tied it to the saddle. Remaining days? It had not been an idle threat. Cedar searched his memories. A moment, a memory of Vosbrough, his voice, his threats, slipped through his mind, blurry and incoherent.

Something. There was something important about Vosbrough that Cedar should know, but escaped him.

He rubbed at his arm, and the bruises there. He usually healed more quickly than most men. But these aches from the blizzard were slow to mend.

He took some time walking around the place, looking for signs of Strange, of children, or of anything else.

Nothing. He mounted up and headed back to town.

Nightfall was only a few hours off. He’d need to be under Mae’s spell, or under chains, before moonrise. If not, he’d be hunting Strange and, in his current frame of mind, killing people too, beginning with the mayor.

The wind, pushing cold down his spine, was thick with the scent of Strange.

Why had the Strange asked for his help? That was something he’d never seen before.

It made him wonder, for the first time, what sort of thing the Strange would fear.

Rose hadn’t even gone through half the freight before she found a cutting torch and rigged it so she could catch a fire to the tip. She’d tried opening the doors, of course, but when the airship had lifted the car, it had done something to lock the doors from the outside.

She braced herself as best she could with all the swaying and then burned out a square hole in each of the doors at the ends of the train car.

The cold air that howled in through those holes was lung robbing, but if she squinted against it, she could see that they were being carried over hills and plains. Now and then she saw a river snake by.

She was going to share her observation with Hink, but he’d fallen asleep, likely trying to outrun the pain of his wound.

As day filtered into evening, Rose settled down too, putting a blanket she had found in a crate over Hink and wrapping up in one herself. But instead of sleeping, she set out bits and pieces of the puppets to see if she could fathom what they could do.

The puppet pieces fit together well enough, screwing in and hinging. She could make a roughly man-sized thing with feet, legs that included hinged knees, arms with all the bendy parts, a torso, and a neck. It had one hand with fully articulated fingers. She didn’t know where the head was, and couldn’t tell if it was intended to have one.

Also, there was that hole in the middle of the chest that didn’t make a whole lot of sense, with its copper band binding the cavity’s edge. Yes, one of those copper devices fit the hole, but how exactly did it power the thing? She’d assumed steam or maybe oil, but there was no evidence of either.

Plus, she hadn’t found another of those glass-and-copper devices, just the broken one that Hink had in his pocket.

It would have to do.

Rose got up and took the few steps over to Hink.

She gently lifted the edge of his blanket and pushed his coat to the side. First, she checked to see if there was more blood from his wound than there should be. No, the handkerchief was soaked through but there was no blood on the floor beside him and he didn’t seem to be leaking from anywhere else.

A wash of relief overtook her, and for a moment she just sat there, looking at his sleeping face. He didn’t seem so worried and sullen when he slept, although pain pulled tight at the edge of his good eye and even at the corner of his eye patch.

“If you’re waiting for a good time to kiss me, I’d say now should work,” he said without opening his eyes.

“I thought you were asleep,” Rose said.

“I was. Then you pulled near everything off me.” Hink opened his eye and gave her half a smile. “You weren’t going to pickpocket me, now, were you?”

“No!” she said too quickly. “Of course not.”

“Rose Small.” He shook his head, that grin growing wider. “You were going to pat my pockets. What are you after?”