Steel Rogue, page 21
Rick felt little worms of shame surfacing in his mind. “I don’t know any of their names.”
“That’s okay. A first name will help. We can get the Ferrets to look for people who served at Manor Steel over ten years ago, with their first names.”
Rick said nothing.
Nyassa gave him a cool stare. “You don’t even remember their first names? These people worked in your house for years.”
“It wasn’t the done thing. Maxim always said that they were the help, not our friends.”
“You have no bloody clue you lot, do you? The people who work for you are nothing but tools. There to be used. Paid as little as you can, then squeezed over a drain like sponges once they soak up too many dirty secrets.”
“Why are you getting so worked up?” asked Rick.
“My mother worked for a family like that. It turns my stomach to think she worked so hard and was thought so little of.”
Rick felt that he had to find a name from somewhere. Not just to help find his mum, but because of the way Nyassa was looking at him now. As if the gap between them was becoming a tundra he’d never cross.
Behind Nyssa, Squir was perched on edge of the desk, pointing at the door.
What’s he telling me?
Then he sat cross-legged like Rick did when he was meditating in front of the verve stone.
The verve stone?
And then it flashed in his mind. A memory of his lies, and the trouble they’d caused for a servant.
How did Squir know about my memory?
“Margaret,” he said. “A servant called Margaret worked for us.”
“Had to really search hard for that, didn’t you? Never mind, it’s a name. Was she around when they took your mum?”
“I think so. She worked for us when I was a kid, but she got sent to Ashgate.”
“She was a vervist?” said Nyassa.
“No, she…” he thought about lying. Just for a second. “When I was a kid, I didn’t want her in the house. So I told Maxim I’d seen her stealing. The next day, a carriage and signias took her to Ashgate.”
“For stealing?”
Rick nodded.
Nyassa smirked.
“What?” said Rick.
“I’m not saying you weren’t a little bastard, and this is still serious. You cost her a job, but people don’t get sent to Ashgate for stealing, you dolt. She probably just got escorted back to Swindbaston. At worst she’d have spent a couple of hours in one of the small jails.”
Rick felt relief, but it was one he didn’t deserve. Nyassa was right. It was serious. He’d cost Margaret her means of living.
“I don’t know where she’d be living now,” he said.
“That’s why we have the Ferrets. Tell me everything you can remember about her.”
* * *
Margaret Carr lived in Shimsham district on the eastern edge of Swindbaston. Her house was one of fifty on the street, crammed together like a collapsed accordion. Some of the windows were boarded up. Some boards had been pried off by amateur rogue groups looking for strippable metals.
Margaret’s house was like a beacon in the murk. Her door was painted bright red. Her windowsills had planters with geraniums and heather sprouting from the soil. Inviting lamplight glowed from the windows.
Rick paused at her door. Nyassa shuffled impatiently, blowing on her gloves and then whacking them together.
“Well?”
“Just thinking about what to say.”
“What’s to think about?” asked Nyassa, and knocked on the door.
A few moments later it opened. The lady in the doorway had grey hair falling down her shoulder. Her face was gaunt but pretty, with eyes half-brimming with sadness and wizened by time. She looked at Nyassa first, who was smiling sweetly at her.
“If this is about Cooke’s silvers, then you’ll have to come back later, love. I don’t have it yet.” But then she saw Rick. “Master Steel?”
He found himself unable to speak for a moment. All he could think about was how her face had aged much more than it should have. He pictured her face back then when she was the only one to smile at him when he’d emerge from the basement.
“Margaret, I…”
She slammed the door shut.
“Rude,” said Nyassa.
“No, I deserve it.”
“You were a kid, Rick. You didn’t know what you were doing.”
“Kids aren’t mindless. I knew right from wrong, and what I did felt bad. I just overrode it.”
“Go wait over there,” said Nyassa.
Rick crossed the street and walked down a little. Some of Margaret’s neighbors watched from behind netted curtains. One man stood in his doorway in a vest that didn’t cover his belly and smoked a cigarette. Way down the street, children played a game of Catch the Vervist.
Margaret’s door opened, and she and Nyassa chatted for what seemed like hours. Eventually, Margaret walked back into her house, and Nyassa beckoned him over.
“Come on, dolt. It’s freezing.”
“What did you say to her?”
She shrugged. “I told her you’re here to atone. Which is fancy speak for admitting what an absolute arse you were.”
* * *
Margaret led them into her living room. Hers was a home of color and warmth and heart-warming smells. Tea stewing in a kettle. A casserole bubbling on a stove, competing with the smell of bread toasting in the oven. Her living room was small, but she’d decorated it with love.
Margaret sat with her hands on her lap. “The lass reckons you’ve got something to say to me, Master Steel.”
“First of all,” said Nyassa. “He doesn’t go by Master Steel anymore. It’s Poshy, Dolt, or Rick. Or if you like, you can make up something yourself and I’ll make sure it sticks.”
Margaret tried to suppress a smile, and Rick was amazed once again at Nyassa’s ability to do that. She’d coax a grin out of a corpse.
“At least you’ve learned to make better friends,” said Margaret. “That little Alyx and Cillian you were always playing with. They had mischief in their eyes.”
“We aren’t friends anymore.”
“Friendship is a dangerous thing,” said Margaret. “Give it too freely, and it can hurt you.”
There was no way he could ask this woman to help him. Clearly, there was some sense in what Nyassa said. He’d been a child back then. But children didn’t just get a forgiveness pass when they did something. Especially not something as hurtful as what Rick did to her. How could he have even thought it was a good idea to knock on her door and ask for help?
“Well? You have something to say to me?”
She stared at him expectantly. Rick knew the words, but they were clinging on to the hull of his mind.
Nyassa jabbed him. “Rick?”
Why can’t I just apologize?
There was a bang.
Rick jumped to his feet, only to see that it came from a cuckoo clock on the wall. The hands marked it as one o’clock, and the bang came from two hatches that opened. As he waited, no bird came out.
“That was a wedding present,” said Margaret. “Thirty years, I had it. When my house on Applegate Grove burned down, it was the only thing I managed to save. It’s the only thing I have to remind me of Vinnie, gods bless his soul. But the bird doesn’t work. Little Harry doesn’t want to come out.”
Rick stared at that hatch and the darkness within, inside which was Little Harry, who refused to come out and coo.
“Vinnie died?” he asked.
“A clot in his leg.”
“I’m sorry.”
Margaret shrugged. “Sorries are as good to me as a marzipan skirt. But Little Harry knew. Because two days before Vinnie died, the clock broke. Harry stopped popping out from his little hatch. I think he knew. Birds are smart.”
Wooden ones, not so much¸ thought Rick.
“We wondered if we could ask you a few questions,” he said.
“No, you bloody can’t. This lovely girl charmed you both into my house, and I thought I might give you the benefit. But I look at you, Rick Steel, and I’m not sure what I see. I don’t know if I see the sweet little boy I once knew or the one that grew up to be Maxim Steel’s son.”
This is useless. We should just go.
He stopped himself telling Nyassa they were leaving. If he walked out of that door, he’d never find out about Mum.
Sitting down next to Nyassa, opposite Margaret, he verved-Lie.
Nyassa grabbed his wrist and dug her fingernails into his skin.
“Ow!”
“Rick and I just need to talk,” said Nyassa. “Won’t be a minute.”
It was raining outside, and the sun was setting early. A streetlamp sat lonely across the road. The lamp itself had been stolen, and two crows perched atop and watched him and Nyassa.
“What the bloody hell are you playing at?” said Nyasa.
Rick had never seen her this angry. “She doesn’t want to help, and I’ll never persuade her. She hates me.”
“So you were just going to verve-Lie on her?”
“Why have verves if you aren’t going to use them?”
“Because it’s not about just using them. It’s about-”
“Why you use them,” said Rick.
“You know the lesson, but meaning eludes you. Damn it, Rick. You can’t just play with this woman’s mind like you’re Cog trying to disarm a trap. You need a real, human interaction. Something with meaning. Are you going to try, or are you giving up?”
“I’ll try. I just don’t know what to say.”
“The trick is not to treat it like something you have to plan. Just be yourself.”
“That’s not working, Nyassa.”
“Not the self your idiot of a father created. Your real self.”
They went back into the house, where Margaret was in the kitchen, stirring her casserole.
“There’s casserole going spare if you two are hungry,” she said. “And bread in the oven. Seeded. I won’t say it’s the best you’ll have, but it’s better than a boot up the arse.”
“Thanks but we don’t have ti-”
“Sounds perfect,” said Nyassa. “Oooh, homemade casserole. Haven’t had a decent warm meal in yonks. Don’t tell Otto I said that.”
Margaret served them bowls of casserole and chunks of soft, warm bread. Despite himself, Rick felt his stomach somersault with excitement. They ate with smatterings of chat, at the end of which Rick’s bowl was empty. Nyassa’s was spotless after she’d used the bread to wipe it clean.
“Seconds?” Nyassa said.
“You cheeky cow,” said Margaret and stood up, not before Rick noticed the smile on her lips.
When Margaret came back, Rick took a deep breath. “I really am sorry to hear about Vinnie,” he said.
“He was a great man. A sod, at times, but a kind heart.”
Eyeing the cuckoo clock, Rick countered-Mechanism. Margaret paid no attention to the resulting click. Nyassa gave only a brief glance in its direction. But Rick watched the clock and hoped it had worked.
A few minutes later, the clock hand reached its zenith, and the hatches opened once again. This time, a cuckoo shot out and cooed for all the room to hear.
But not only that. Wedged in its wooden beak was a roll of paper.
“What? That ain’t worked for years,” Margaret stood up, beaming. “And what’s this?”
She unraveled the paper and read something on it. When she was done, her eyes were watery.
Nyassa exchanged a wary glance with Rick and leaned closer to him. “You did that, didn’t you?”
Rick shrugged.
“Don’t give me that. I know what Mechanism does when you counter it. Verving it disarms stuff, countering fixes. Cog showed me.”
Margaret read the paper again. “Oh, you stupid, soppy sod,” she said. She was silent for a moment as if she’d forgotten Nyassa and Rick were there. Then, she said, “Vinnie wrote this a few days before he died. Stupid sod put it in Little Harry’s mouth, thinking he’d pop out while Vinnie was at work, and I’d get the note. He was always doing stuff like that. Bloody paper must have got jammed inside.”
“What does it say?” asked Nyassa. “Sorry, that’s rude.”
“It says nothing, love,” said Margaret, eyes gleaming. “Nothing he didn’t say dozens of times a day. Just that he loved me, and he’d see me later.”
Nyassa looked like she was battling the urge to cry. Rick felt something catching in his throat. He didn’t know what.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Margaret and Nyassa both turned to face him.
“I’m sorry that I lied to Maxim and cost you your job. I’m sorry about everything that came from it. Any struggle you had because I lied. I’m sorry that you were just trying to be nice to a little boy, and he turned out to be an ungrateful bastard.”
Margaret turned and went into the kitchen and shut the door. She was gone for a long time. It seemed like hours, but perhaps that was just because of how crappy and awkward Rick felt.
“We should go,” he whispered to Nyassa. He stood up.
The kitchen door opened, and Margaret walked out. “Sit down,” she said, in the same commanding tone of voice she used to use with the younger servants, back at Steel Manor.
Rick did as he was told.
“Now, young Master Steel,” said Margaret, “Let me tell you something. First, hold onto your girlfriend here. With any luck, she’ll help make a half-decent man out of you. Let her go and, well, I don’t want to speak ill of Maxim if he’s no longer with us. But, you know how things can turn out.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” said Rick.
“That true?” said Margaret, directing the question at Nyassa.
Rick found himself staring way too intently at Nyassa, who was pretending not to hear.
“Do you think I could ask you something?” said Rick.
Margaret nodded. “I suppose you can.”
“What do you remember about the day they took my mother away?”
* * *
Things were dire. They must have been. Otherwise, why would Jackdaw attend a meeting dressed in just a cloth shirt and trousers? No bow tie, cravat, or waistcoat.
Rick was sitting on a chair next to Cog, who smelled strongly of oil. Nyassa was across the room next to Sun, who was whispering something. Rick found himself wishing he could be next to her.
“So as you can see,” said Jackdaw, after twenty minutes of non-stop dialogue, “Time’s tighter than a monk’s arse. I want everyone focused and working hard. I know that you’re getting wound up. I know we all need a break. Once we hit Ashgate we’ll have nothing to do but relax, okay? Our pockets will be brimming with gold, and we’ll need to get out of Swindbaston and lie low. Until then, let’s focus.”
Jackdaw sat on a chair in front of them. Dark bags sat under his eyes.
“Are you okay, Daw?” asked Nyassa.
“Never better.”
“Right. It’s just that, well, you look like crap.”
“Your words are like honey, Nyassa dear. I’ll admit, I could be sleeping more. I could also be lying on a sunny beach with a semi-naked beauty. If we pull off this Ashgate job, I will be. What’s everyone else going to do? We can’t lie low together. We will have to be apart for a while, as much as it will pain you all to be away from me.”
“Hermish Alps. I’m going to, uh, climb them,” said Toad.
Cog shrugged. “There’s a world innovation fair in Tyk next year. I want to see what I’ve been missing while I’m holed up with you lot.”
Rick couldn’t help realizing that the brothers had chosen places on opposite sides of the world.
“Sun?” said Jackdaw.
“I’ll probably rent myself a cabin in the wilderness. Get away from people for a while. Get away from all the gossip and chatter. Read books. Paint.”
“Bollocks. Nyassa?”
Rick found himself staring intently at her, so he looked at the ground. No point letting her know what her answer meant to him. Then, he could feel something on his face. Was she staring at him?
He glanced up. She wasn’t. Or had she just turned away?”
“Rick wanted to discuss something with you all,” Nyassa said.
“Ah, young Lord Steel wants to impart more pearls upon us scruffy gits. Come on then, Elrick, the floor is yours.”
Rick stood up. “It’s nothing, really. I just wanted to ask that we add someone to our Ashgate list.”
“Add another inmate to our plans? That’s hardly nothing,” said Jackdaw.
“Balls to that. He’s right. Every extra person adds to the risk,” said Cog.
Jackdaw nodded. “Rick, my lad, we already hit the quota to make this a lucrative job while ensuring our heads don’t end up on sticks. Any extra inmates will have to come from bloody rich families, because our price is going up.”
“There’s someone we need to add. She can’t pay. Her family isn’t rich. Not anymore.”
“Then we’re not adding her.”
“Sorry, lad, but I agree with Daw,” said Cog.
Sun gave Rick a sympathetic look. “What Rick isn’t saying, is that this isn’t just another inmate to add to the list. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s his mother.”
“What?”
“They tossed her in Ashgate,” said Rick.
Jackdaw stood up. “Vervist?”
Rick nodded.
“I look at the manifest every day,” said Cog. “I’d have seen an Steel and asked you about it.”
“They listed her under a different name.”
“One sec.” Cog grabbed the manifest and opened it on his lap. “Go on.”
“Viola George.”
“Gage…Garnet…ah, here we are. George. Oh.”
“Oh?” said Jackdaw.
“She’s in the basement cells under the Vice tower.”
Jackdaw ran his hand through his hair. “Great. Just great. How sure are we about this?”
Rick had been expecting a reaction like this since his conversation with Margaret. “A woman who used to work for my father was taken on as a cleaner in Ashgate. She saw my mother.”
