Ichor Well Page 7

  #

  Digger stood in the gig room, looking a bit uncertain about what to make of Lil. She’d taken a seat on Nita’s hammock and was swinging her feet, smirking at the fug person.

  “You sure look funny with that little narrow head of yours sticking out of all them clothes. I wonder why fug folk are always so skinny.”

  “It is just the way we are,” Digger said. “If you don’t mind the observation, you are smaller than I’d expected. A few of the former inmates told stories about you and Nita. I’m having a hard time imagining someone of your stature making fools of trained guards to the degree they described.”

  “It don’t take much of a finger to pull a trigger,” Lil said. “And the way I figure it, being little’s come in more handy than anything else.”

  “If you’ll also excuse the observation, you have a… curious way about you. I’m not certain if you are a friend, or if you’re waiting for a chance to shoot me.”

  “No reason I can’t be one until I’m the other,” Lil said. She glanced at a book tucked behind a belt that held it to the wall near the hammock. “Say, I been meaning to ask someone from the fug this. You folk get into anything artsy down there?”

  “Artsy?”

  “Yeah, you know. Music, paintin’, storytellin’. Pretty stuff. I know you make them cameras, but I can’t imagine there’s much down there worth taking pictures of, it being so dark.”

  “I’m partial to theater, myself.”

  “Oh. I was sort of hopin’ for something I could maybe buy or borrow to show off.”

  “We’ve worked out a way to share theater. It’s related to that camera you’re familiar with. There’s more development to be done on that front, but it is a remarkable effect if you get a chance to see it. Why do you ask?”

  “Nita here,” Lil said, patting the hammock. “She and the folk back where she came from are all about stuff like that. I’m always trying to find things she might like. I worry that, being up here with us all the time, she might get to thinkin’ she’d rather be home. I want her to be happy, you know? Because one of these day’s we’ll all learn to do her job like she’s been learning to do ours, and we all know how to do each other’s, mostly. And when that happens, she and us’d be square and she could hop off the Wind Breaker crew and stay home.

  “That’s why I bought her this book. It’s the one book I can remember my mama readin’ to us. Just kid stuff, rhymes and stuff, but there’s lots of pictures. I guess she’s been reading it, but I ain’t seen her reading it. Her being the engineer and me being a deckhand, most days us getting time to spare that lines up with each other just ain’t in the cards.

  “But the details of what me and Nita do or don’t find the time to do together isn’t the point of the matter, Digger. The question is, do you know of any doodads and such that’d interest her? Artsy stuff. And tinkery too.”

  Digger furrowed his brow. “It isn’t a matter of expertise for me, but I’ll certainly put some thought into it if our association extends beyond this initial meeting.”

  “If this ‘association’ doesn’t extend beyond ‘this initial meeting,’” she said, imitating his diction, “then you’re not gonna be keeping anything in mind at all. Because that’d mean we’ve reckoned you’re trying to trick us, and like I said, it don’t take much of a finger to pull a trigger.”

  She smiled sweetly and kicked her feet, not a hint of malice in her expression and no inkling that anything she’d said was out of the ordinary.

  “You are a very disconcerting individual, Miss Cooper,” he said.

  “So I been told,” Lil said.

  The door opened and Coop, Nita, Gunner, and Mack entered. Lil hopped to her feet and stepped over to them.

  “Has a decision been reached?” Digger asked. Though there was a clear attempt, he had little success hiding the nervousness in his voice.

  “Not just yet,” Captain Mack said. “One bit more. Call it a sign of good faith.”

  “What is it?”

  “You said it was trivial to make phlogiston from ichor, correct?” Nita said.

  “Yes.”

  “Trivial enough that you could do it with what we have here and what you have there?”

  “It isn’t precisely my area of expertise.”

  Gunner crossed his arms.

  “Seems like you got a lot of areas that ain’t your expertise, Digger,” Lil said.

  “However, in expectation of the request for a demonstration, I had the fellow most familiar with the simplest form of the procedure give me some instructions.”

  He reached into his pocket. Before his hand reached bottom, Gunner, Coop, and Lil had their guns pointed at him, cocked and ready.

  “You really ought to announce that sort of thing before you do it, Digger,” Coop said.

  “At what point in this potential partnership am I likely to be permitted to access my own pockets without prior announcement?” Digger said, a flicker of anger flavoring his anxiety.

  “Once it stops being potential,” Gunner said.

  “Plus two or three days for good measure,” Lil added.

  “Well I’m going to remove a slip of paper and a small jar from this pocket, and then I’m going to retrieve the ichor sample from the other.”

  “Do it slow,” Coop said.

  Digger revealed the described items and flipped open the piece of paper.

  “It appears I shall require a double boiler, some glassware, and a pair of crucible tongs. We shall also need access to a reasonably well-ventilated workspace.”

  Chapter 3

  In Fugtown, Mayor Ebonwhite approached the bottom of a substantial mound of paperwork. Running the affairs of the city was a substantial job, and one that had grown more substantial under his tenure. He was a man of exacting requirements, and he’d seldom found a subordinate capable of rising to them. Furthermore, while running Fugtown was task enough for anyone, he’d expanded his influence well beyond it. These days little went on beneath the fug that he did not consider his concern. He was a man with a great hunger for control, and it grew more ravenous by the day.

  He was signing off on a request to construct a pair of new dry docks when a knock on his door broke his concentration.

  “Mr. Fross?” Ebonwhite said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I trust it is a very, very pressing message that has motivated you to interrupt me at this hour.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then enter.”

  Mr. Fross pushed open the door. Mayor Ebonwhite’s personal assistant was not a distinctive man by fug standards. Tall, slender, and slightly stooped, he dressed in dark colors and perpetually wore a vest. His hair was black against his white skin, and of late he’d been keeping his long, gaunt face clean-shaven. He held a small folder of pages.

  “Would you like to read them yourself, or shall I summarize?”

  “Does it warrant perusal past the summary?”

  “Unlikely, there wasn’t much to learn, I’m afraid.”

  “Then summarize. I’ve still got a fair amount of matters to see to.”

  He opened the folder. “You’d asked us too look further into Mr. Alabaster, as you were unsatisfied with the depth of your current knowledge. He operates out of Caer Fiona, which is at the edge of The Thicket. We’ve seldom had occasion to keep surveillance upon locations so far north and east, so our agents there are stretched rather thin. As you suspected, however, Alabaster has had a few somewhat suspect activities recently. First, a summary of what we’ve found of his history.”

  “Quickly, Mr. Fross.”

  “Alabaster operates no significant industry directly. Most of his wealth was inherited from his father, who had accumulated it during the cleanup efforts following the initial arrival of the fug. This allowed him to lay claim to some significant real estate, which made him a small fortune when sold some years later. Alabaster himself has maintained the fortune and grown it through some sensible investment. He has a small stake i
n nearly every local business concern, either by holding the title to their land or owning a portion of the business itself.”

  “Meaning,” Ebonwhite broke in, “he has intimate knowledge of the activities of each local business and, if he is at all intelligent, influence over the local workforce.”

  “That is my estimation as well.”

  “This would make him ideally suited to filling the gaps in our intelligence network in the region. If he’d approached me with that offer, I might have accepted it. Foolish that he instead came seeking work as a problem solver.”

  “To that end, sir, the only other significant information we were able to ascertain was that he has made some rather sizable donations to various educational and labor organizations. He’s been ordering some low-grade silverware from North Circa in medium-size quantities through Precipice, and he commissioned the construction of a personal conveyance, the one that ferried him here and back. That is the only officially commissioned ship, but the variety and quantity of materials acquired for its construction is vastly in excess of requirements for such a vessel. We believe he is arming himself.”

  “Arming himself,” Ebonwhite said. “To what degree?”

  “Perhaps a small collection of scout-type ships or one larger combat vessel.”

  “So nothing that might threaten even the most outlying people under my protection.”

  “No, sir.”

  “I take from this that he is genuine in his interest in clashing with the Wind Breaker and her crew.”

  “That is a reasonable assessment.”

  “The man is a glory-seeking fool, and he seems set on feeding himself to the very wolves we are trying to starve. That is the sort of person likely to spoil many carefully weighed plans. What is the most recent information regarding the whereabouts of the Wind Breaker?”

  “There was a sighting of it heading north.”

  “If I recall correctly, this time of the month would see them returning to that island the captain purchased, then their trip back to Caldera. That would imply south and west, not north.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So it is possible he’s already set out the bait for his trap, whatever it might be… A scheme is playing out, and by virtue of the remoteness of its backdrop, it is doing so without my knowledge. Listen carefully, Fross. I want you to monitor any requests and shipments of things the Wind Breaker may need. Phlogiston, replacement parts, burn-slow, things of that nature. If an unusual quantity is headed in the direction of Alabaster or his holdings, I want to know immediately. He knows I plan to overcome the Wind Breaker by choking off its vital supplies. He may attempt to feed them enough phlogiston to make them a continued threat until I seek his aid.”

  He frowned and steepled his fingers. “Select an agent, one who is skilled and as near to being incorruptible as we have in our employ, and send him north. If Alabaster isn’t completely inept, he will no doubt be aware that we’ve sent him, and that will encourage him, but it can’t be helped. I need eyes on what that fool might be doing.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “There’s nothing I find more frustrating than finding a man who might be useful, but who prefers to be put to a different use,” he said, shaking his head.

  #

  Digger was clearly out of his element, handling the tongs as though they would bite him and watching anxiously as the water in the boiler rose past a simmer. It wasn’t anything more complex than a bowl of water with an empty bowl set atop it and a burner set below, but he may as well have been handling a bomb with a short fuse from his apparent anxiety. The venue for the demonstration, thanks to the requirement for ventilation, was the gig room with the gig lowered a few inches. In order to spare Nita’s corner any damage, they were working on the opposite side, and the crew had formed a quarter circle around the demonstration. The only person absent was Butch, who seldom saw the need to leave the galley.

  “Would you like any help?” Nita asked. “You don’t seem comfortable with the tools of the trade.”

  “My role thus far in any of the industries to which I’ve put my hand has always been administrative,” Digger said, looking over his instructions. “Unfortunately, this next portion is one that requires the hand of a fug person such as myself. First, some warnings. Ichor, in all but the smallest quantities, is phenomenally poisonous. It should not be consumed, inhaled, or allowed to touch unprotected flesh.”

  “Should we be wearing our masks?” Lil asked.

  “The instructions suggest the fumes will not be an issue, though there may be some spattering when heated.”

  The upper pot of the small double boiler was dancing, steam spurting from beneath its rim. Each rattle and spurt caused Digger to jump.

  “If you’ll excuse the observation, Digger, I don’t think you’ve got the temperament for this venture,” Nita said.

  Digger cracked the top of the vial containing the ichor and set the whole container into the upper bowl. He then opened the small glass jar and took back the tongs.

  “I must again request that you all keep your distance. This paper has been treated with a solution of condensed fug. It is for purposes of illustration. As I’m sure you are all aware, the two key attributes of phlogiston are its exceptionally lighter-than-air nature and the illumination it produces when it comes into contact with the fug. I am instructed to hold it over the warming ichor.” He did so. “When the ichor reaches the proper temperature, a stream of compounds shall issue forth. The fug-treated swatch shall illuminate in the presence of phlogiston.”

  For a few moments, all waited while the heat slowly filtered into the mysterious substance. Digger’s anxiousness, if it was not already exceptionally apparent, showed in the increasing shakiness of the tongs.

  “About how long is this liable to take?” Coop asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never performed the demonstration before. Until the well is secured, ichor is too precious to be squandered without good reason. The instructions claim the first sign of the reaction will be a cracking of the crust on the top of the ichor.”

  The substance obligingly chose that moment to begin. A small tinkling crackle came from the pot. Then came a curl of green gas that swept up and brushed against the swatch of paper, causing it to flash brilliant green.

  “As our most chemically inclined crewmember, I must say that while I am intrigued, I am not impressed by this demonstration, Captain,” Gunner said.

  “I was hoping for something a mite more—” the captain began.

  Before his hopes could be articulated, the ichor decided to rise to the occasion. A sharp snap sent fragments of white crystal scattering from the pot. Then came more phlogiston. Not an errant wisp, but a veritable spout. The green gas belched fourth nearly as wide as the opening of the pot, flitting up past the swatch of treated paper. The light from it was just short of blinding. The crew turned away and Digger flinched, dropping it into the pot where it flashed still brighter and brought with it a burst of heat before dying away.

  With the light gone, the crew watched the phlogiston spread across the ceiling, seeking out every crack and crevice and filtering away. When the rush of gas finally finished nearly a minute later, all that was left behind in the boiler was a handful of small white crystals, some broken glass, and a black stain.

  “That… was a fair distance on the other side of my hopes and expectations,” Captain Mack said.

  “Would you fine ladies and gentlemen then consider this venture to be worthy of your investment and risk?” Digger said.

  There was a general murmur to the affirmative.

  “I’d say we’re done with the ifs and we’re on to the hows and whens, Digger,” Captain Mack said.

  “Ah…” Digger said, shakily setting down the tongs and fumbling with the burner. “Good, good. Because those are matters I’m much more comfortable discussing.”

  “I’ll take care of that for you,” Nita said. “A shaky hand with a burner like this is liable to start a blaze.
”

  “I thank you,” Digger said. “Naturally, as you’ve included your crew in the decision-making process, from this point forward I would be remiss if I didn’t do the same for my collaborators. It is my recommendation that we go our separate ways for now, meeting up once again at a location within the fug, which I’ve recorded right…” He paused. “I am going to fetch a slip of paper from an inside pocket. Please do not interpret this as an act of aggression.”

  “The man’s learning,” Gunner said.

  Digger produced the page with the directions and presented it to Captain Mack. “To provide you with time to supply yourselves and prepare for a trip into the fug, I would suggest meeting again in two days. That will also provide me time to travel to the meeting site. We have not been able to acquire an airship for our cause, so travel has been rather uncomfortably achieved by way of steam carts along the old roads.”

  “Just as well. If you want to keep working with us, all you folks ought to stay off airships entirely. Nothing that happens on a fugger airship stays secret for long,” Captain Mack said.

  “True enough. To that end, when you come I would recommend measures be taken to ensure stealth. I know you have a reputation of somehow escaping the watchful eye of my people, but it is now doubly important that you not be seen approaching the meeting place because, were you to be seen, it would reveal both of us. In your case I have no doubt that you can fight off the martial intent of any local contingent of Fugtown or its allies, but the Well Diggers, I assure you, cannot.”

  “We’ll be discreet,” Captain Mack said. “Coop, drop the ladder and see Digger to his door. I’ll see you all in the galley in twenty minutes to discuss preparations.”

  “Aye, Cap’n,” Coop said.

  He kicked down the ladder and did Digger the favor of climbing down to secure the bottom for his own descent. When the newcomer was out of earshot, the captain looked to his crew.