The magical creature turned and began flapping away from them with an urgency that was upsetting. It was almost out into the street when Skate had the sense to call out for it to stop.
It turned toward her and shook its body, a shiver not unlike what she’d seen dogs do after finding shelter from rain. The light stopped shining in its eye; the glow had returned to the gemstone.
Rattle flapped happily back toward them, seemingly unaware or else undisturbed by its sudden dash away from them all. Skate hid the statuette back in her pocket, not wanting a repetition of the episode.
“Rattle,” Skate said, turning it toward her to look her in the eye, “I need to know something: Do you know what Mr. Belamy’s soul tether is?”
It paused, then clicked once, which she had been taking to mean “yes.”
“Okay. Is the statue of Alphetta the thing he tied his soul to?” Another stretch of silence, this one much longer. “Rattle, please. If it’s not the tether, he could be in a lot of trouble. You saw what happened back there. We need to make sure it’s safe. Is the little statue his tether?”
Still with hesitation, Rattle clicked twice. No.
“Maybe it’s l-lying,” Twitch offered, eyeing the thing with no small amount of distrust.
“No,” Skate said, searching the eye for any insecurity, “no, I don’t think so. The figurine isn’t the tether.” Rattle seemed sure of its assessment—and if it did know what the tether was, it had no real reason to lie about the figurine and every reason to tell the truth. But this glowing thing happened only after Belamy was destroyed, she argued with herself. That can’t be a coincidence. Well, it could be, but it’s probably not. “Rattle,” she said again, “do you know where the tether is?”
This was the first question that didn’t get a direct answer in response. The eyeball bat looked about, as if expecting to see either the tether or a sign pointing to it in large letters nearby. Its legs clacked indiscriminately, like heavy wind chimes she’d seen outside some bars in the docks. After several confused moments, it purposefully clicked once. Then twice. Yes, then no.
“You do know, but you don’t know?”
Rattle clicked a yes again, then flapped expectantly, as if she only needed to ask more questions to get to the bottom of this whole mess.
“I get it,” Skate said, turning toward the others. “The statue shows Rattle where to go. Belamy hid his tether somewhere, and we’ve got to go find it and find him. That’s what we’re supposed to be doing now.”
Petre and Twitch looked at each other, then back to Skate. Petre spoke first. “Okay, you may be onto something there, Skate. But why? Why do we need to go find him? The magic of what he is ought to bring him back just fine without our help.”
“Maybe. But didn’t he say he became what he was in a way that wasn’t normal for liches? That he found a ‘different’ way to make it work? Maybe this is part of the difference. Maybe somebody has to do something to bring him back to life. Unlife, whatever.” The more she spoke, the surer she was that she was on the right track. “We have to go bring him back.”
“I dunno, Skate,” Twitch said, rubbing the back of his head and jerking slightly as he spoke. “That’s kind of a r-reach, isn’t it? Why wouldn’t he just tell you what to do instead of all this s-s-secrecy?”
“He didn’t have a reason before today to tell me anything, and when he did, he had to do it right under Hugo’s nose.” Speak up, Barry. “So he had to get the most important information to me, and he had to do it fast. ‘Rattle will show the way.’ That’s gotta be it.”
“Aw, no, the Ink!” Twitch brought a hand to his forehead. He looked worried enough to be sick. “What’s gonna happen w-with the Ink now that the B-Big Boss is gone? The rest of the Bosses’re gonna fight for control. This city’s g-gonna go crazy.” He slumped back as the reality of it hit him. “I’m in big trouble. They’re g-gonna know I went against the Big Boss. I’ll have a t-target on my b-back, for sure.”
“So come with us.”
Twitch looked at Skate, on the verge of tears. “You mean it?”
“Of course, dummy.” Skate poked his nose, and he swatted her hand away. “Doesn’t make sense for you to stick around here. We’ve got somewhere we’ve gotta be, and you’ve got anywhere else to be. Who else’d take you, anyway?” She smiled, and he smiled back.
“All right. L-let’s go find your dead guy.”
The sun was setting, and Skate had a backpack on. It felt weird, because behind her stood Caribol, the city she had spent her entire life learning how to survive. The gates were almost a mile behind them now, and hoofbeats rang out around them. Skate tried adjusting the strap until she decided to just take it off and hold the bag in front of her.
There was a clinking noise as a statue knocked against a glass ball and a stoppered pitcher within. Skate opened the pack, but only long enough to make sure nothing was damaged and that the padding was in place; the blue light shining out would reveal more to any passersby than she would have liked.
The wagon driver seemed not to notice; they’d paid him enough not to, and that was worth the extra helm. “No questions asked,” had been his exact phrase, and he was intent on honoring that. He hadn’t made eye contact or said a word to either of them once he’d gotten on the road.
Skate turned to Twitch and nudged him. “How you doing?”
“Good. Real g-good.” He looked it, surprisingly enough. They had gathered up, with Petre’s help, as much stuff as they could find and sell of Belamy’s to get them out of town safely, and taken the goods to one of the Ink fences. Their betrayal hadn’t percolated through all the rank and file of the organization yet, so they were able to make a substantial fortune from Belamy’s goods.
“People are going to rob this place when we’re gone anyway,” Skate had explained, and even Petre had to admit that the goods within were likely forfeit within a week. So they had left the gates of Caribol with hundreds of scepts to their names. “He can make more money when we all come back.”
Twitch had shrugged at that pronouncement, taking it as an axiom that wasn’t worth debating.
The boy beside her was, for the first time she had ever seen, not wearing filthy rags. They had taken the time to stop and purchase traveling gear and a new set of comfortable and functional clothes for them both. Skate still had her dress, packed tightly away in her bag, but it made more sense to find a pair of trousers; they had no idea where they were going or what they would run into, but movement was probably going to be more important than fanciness of dress. Twitch was keeping a watchful eye on the road ahead. He had told her before embarking that he was concerned about the stories he’d heard of highwaymen who would accost travelers, demanding their money or their lives. “That’s how th-they say it, too. ‘Your m-money, or your life.’ We g-gotta be careful.” What being careful would do to help them if they did happen to get caught by someone after money, Skate did not know, but she did not press the matter. It gave him something to do on what might be a very long journey.