As Sandover marched from the room, Eckhart and his partner Strike wrapped the appalling thing in its reeking canvas. Skye was still as stone, once again covering his nose and mouth.
The others were arguing softly, Eckhart’s fair face red with emotion, Strike curtailing a series of angry gestures towards the door, the ozone scent of his power burning through the stench. If ever there was someone who might help them, it was these men. A thought not lost on Skye, as he swallowed hard, wiping his damp cheeks on his sleeve.
“Please,” he said, his voice cracking. “Please, will you help us?”
“Not for anything, you butchers,” Eckhart spat, his chest swelling.
“It’s not like you think. We’re not here by choice, Mr. Robb and I. He’s being blackmailed and I was abducted.” Strike’s whole body stiffened as Eckhart gasped, covering his mouth.
“We’re your best, maybe your only chance to stop Sandover from harming this creature,” Skye went on. “Can you help us stay alive long enough to try?”
The other men shared a look, long and full of feeling. Then Strike nodded, a single sharp jerk of his head. “Right then,” Eckhart replied with a weak smile. “Let’s see what we can do for you.”
While Strike left the room to retrieve something, Eckhart took a large hardbound book from a shelf by the door and opened it on the top of the cabinet. “Here’s where the specimen was found, on the southern shore of Manitoulin Island,” he said, pointing in the gazetteer at the large landmass that dominated the north of the great broken hand of water known as Lake Huron. “The steamboat was badly damaged in the encounter, though the official word being put around is that the vessel ran aground on one of the little limestone islands that litter the shoreline.”
“No one knows about this?” Cary asked as Jaime bent over the map to inspect it.
“It was a cargo vessel,” Eckhart replied. “And it happened on a foggy morning so eye-witnesses are few. The lake is becoming a busy shipping route as it’s by far the easiest way into both the interior of the Dominion and the Wisconsin Territory. The last thing our governor wants is a mass panic that ships are at risk of attack by…well, whatever this is.”
This sobering thought silenced them until Strike returned. “This will stay lit in all weather,” he said, sliding back the lid on a small tin box to reveal a smouldering coal, its ruddy heat gleaming from within its cocoon of white ash. “Blow on it like any cinder and it will give you fire enough to start most any kindling.”
“Or a candle?” Robb said, nodding at the half-burned tallow Eckhart was holding.
“It’s a lodestone wick,” Strike replied. “The flame points northward.”
“We do have a compass,” Jaime said as Cary stowed the small box and the candle in the leather satchel where he kept his tobacco and other goods.
“Which will be so useful in the dark, won’t it?” Strike replied evenly.
“Ah. True.”
“Thanks for deciding to help us,” Cary said as they started for the door.
“I only hope we’ve been of use,” Eckhart replied.
“We’ll take any help we can get.”
“Then by all means take this too,” said Strike. He opened a cupboard behind him and retrieved a squat brown apothecary’s jar, a pungent herbal aroma seeping from under the hinged lid.
“Is this some kind of magic potion?” Jaime asked.
“It’s to keep away the flies,” Strike replied with a grimace.
“Which flies?”
He swapped glances with Eckhart. “You’ll know when you find them.”
“Bloody hell,” Cary muttered as he tucked the jar away with the other enchanted goods. “I hate flies.”
They spent several days in Toronto as Sandover sought passage northward. Plenty of ships plied the long route through Lake St Clair and its river to Lake Huron and beyond, westward through Lake Superior to the trading post of Fond du Lac, at the very heart of the vast continent. Sandover wished to travel overland, a distance on the map of far fewer miles. He would not answer why, not to Jaime or Cary, nor to any of the agents of the various transport companies who came calling, none of whom took Sandover’s admittedly lucrative offer.
“It’s not a matter of distance,” said the skimble-shanked company man as he rolled up his charts. “There is no better way to get where you’re going than by water.”
“I’ve had quite enough of water, Mr. Turnbull,” Sandover said through his teeth.
“But a load of that weight?” Turnbull said with a note of frustration. “There’s not a vehicle in my fleet I’d risk on the roads available. I’m very sorry that you expect us to have Old World comforts, Mr—Lord Sandover, but here we make do. Good day, and to you gentlemen as well.”
Cary went to open the door for Turnbull. Sandover remained in his chair, drumming his fingers on the armrests as he gazed into the unlit hearth.
“I don’t know what that fellow expects when he won’t even disclose the contents of the cargo,” Turnbull said as he stepped into the hall. “What’s his objection to shipping?”
“We were trapped in the doldrums on our Atlantic passage. Maybe he holds a grudge.”
“Well you can be sure of no doldrums on the Lakes, Mr. Robb. Quite the opposite. If you’re in open water and the clouds turn, get to safe harbour if you at all can.”
When Cary returned, Sandover had gone into his bedroom. To sulk, to preen, to write in his weird little book. To come storming out without warning to haul them across town to another unwilling transport firm’s office.
Jaime was by the window looking out over the street. In anticipation of the cruelties to come Cary had done his best to stay aloof from the other man. They spoke little, and then only of dull practicalities like the need for fresh towels or whether they might order more tea. It had rained this morning and the unpaved street resembled a silty river bottom, every passing horse’s legs coated with mud to the fetlock, every man’s boots or trousers to the knee. Regardless, Cary would have happily gotten filthy head to toe if it meant a chance to leave the hotel room.
“Do you think his highness trusts you to take me for a walk?” Jaime asked, letting the curtain fall closed.
“Don’t bloody care,” Cary grunted. “We’re going whether he does or not, or I’m going to go round the bend. Get your hat.”