Consider it done, Madam Erys, Hexe replied. But I only accept your kind offer on condition that it is merely a loan. As soon as I no longer require the use of the gauntlet, I will return it to you, with my sincerest thanks.
Of course, Serenity, Erys smiled, bowing her head. However, I must warn you that in order for you to wield the Gauntlet of Nydd, it must be bonded to your nervous system.
Ah. I see, Hexe said, the smile falling away from his face. He pushed the gauntlets display case back toward the glover. Im afraid Ill have to leave it in your care until I can afford such elective surgery.
That wont be necessary, Serenity, Madam Erys said quickly. I know a psychic surgeon who owes me a favor. Im certain hell quote you a reasonable price.
How soon would he be able to do the work?
Madam Erys reached into her décolletage and removed a heart-shaped locket-watch on a golden chain. If we hurry, he should be able to squeeze you in today.
* * *
I thought you said we were going to your doctor-friends office? Hexe frowned.
I didnt say he was my friend, Erys replied a bit sharply. Just that he owed me a favor. Besides, he conducts most of his business from here.
As it turned out, here, as Madam Erys so put it, was none other than the Stagger Inn, one of the lowest of Golgothams low taverns. It was not the kind of establishment one would expect a respectable psychic surgeon to be hanging out in during office hours. However, if you were looking for cheap intoxicants and a knife fight, youd definitely come to the right place.
I dont like this at all, I whispered. And I really dont like her. Somethings screwy about all this. Cant we just forget about this gauntlet thing and go back home, please?
Normally, Id agree with you, Hexe replied. But these arent normal times, Tate. I have to regain the use of my right hand. If that means becoming involved with a dodgy sorceress . . . well, it wont be the first time.
Dori was different, and you know that, I protested. And I cant believe I just defended someone who tried to turn me into a toad.
Is there a problem, Serenity? Madam Erys asked, turning back to give me a disapproving look as she opened the door to the Stagger Inn.
No, everythings fine, he assured her.
Against my better judgment, I followed them into the bar. The moment I set foot inside, my eyes began to water and I started to cough. Kymerans tend to smoke like clogged chimneys when theyre sober, and even more so when theyre drunk. The interior of the Stagger Inn was filled with a blue-tinged pall that hung in the air as thick as fog. Judging from its smell, the miasma was a mixture of tobacco, hashish, and opium smoke from a variety of cigars, hookahs, and pipes.
We continued through a low-slung archway into a public room with ponderous beams overhead and worm-shot planking underfoot. The main room had neither electric nor gaslight fixtures, and was instead lit by stray balls of witchfire, which bumped against the low ceiling like wandering toy balloons. The Stagger Inns clientele was composed of the hardest drinkers in Golgotham, mostly satyrs, ipotanes, maenads, and leprechauns, and it was reflected in the pubs atmosphere. This was not the kind of place you go to in order to celebrate a birthday or commemorate an anniversary; this was the kind of place you go to in order to drink as much as possible, for as cheaply as possible, for as long as possible before either throwing up, losing consciousness, or being thrown out, if not all three.
At the back of the room was what passed for the bar, behind which stood an older maenad, her leopard-skin cloak askew and one boob hanging out. As I watched, she poured absinthe into a greasy-looking cocktail glass and handed it to a blowzy nymph, who transported it to a booth in one of the shadowier corners of the main room.
Thats our contact, Madam Erys said, pointing to the older Kymeran the waitress had just served.
Although I had never personally met the tall, thin man with the receding sage-colored hair and long, tapering fingers before, I instantly recognized him as Dr. Moot, who occasionally worked for the Maladanti. This was because, months ago, I had seen him reflected within a scrying stone, mutilating the feet of my friend Lukas with a silver scalpel.
Hexe recoiled, his mouth twisted into a grimace of distaste. You can keep the gauntlet, Madam Erys. I know this man, and I refuse to have anything to do with him.
As Hexe turned to leave, Dr. Moot raised his glass of absinthe in a mock salute. Have it your way, Serenity, he said in a slightly slurred, overloud voice. But good luck finding anyone else willing to work as cheap as me. Or, perhaps, youll find a boneknitter somewhere who can turn a Malleus Maleficarum fracture widdershins.
Hexe spun back around to glare at Moot, his face gray as old porridge. How do you know about that?
How do you think I know? the psychic surgeon sneered. Now sit down before you call any more attention to yourself. He gestured to the seat opposite him with a long-fingered hand. The tosspots around here arent so soused they wont eventually notice the Heir Apparent slumming it amongst them. And if Marz finds out Im talking to you, he wont hesitate to clip my wings, so to speak, he said, miming cutting off one of his fingers with a pair of scissors.
Hexe hesitated for a moment and then grudgingly sat down in the booth opposite the disgraced surgeon. I slid in after him, leaving Erys to drag over a chair from a nearby table. The smell of wormwood radiated from Moot so strongly I at first assumed hed accidently spilled his absinthe onto himself.
When Madam here told me she had someone interested in the Gauntlet of Nydd, I knew it had to be you. Ive agreed to do the surgerybut only because I owe her a debt. After which, were done; is that understood? Moot said, shooting a meaningful look in the glovers direction.
Of course, Madam Erys replied stiffly.
I used to be friends with your Uncle Esau, you know, Dr. Moot said as he studied Hexe over the rim of his glass. I worked with him on those clockwork limbs of his. He first learned how to construct them from the Royal Surgeon, Dr. Tork, but Esau later went on to refine the technique. He crafted the limbs, and I handled the surgery. That was a long, long time ago, though.
Did you know his wife back then? Hexe asked.
The question seemed to catch Moot off guard. He glanced over at Madam Erys and then dropped his gaze into the green depths of the absinthe. Of course, I knew Nina, he said solemnly. Im the one who introduced them.
What was she like? Hexe asked, a quizzical look on his face. No one in my family is willing to talk about her. In fact, I never even knew she existed until recently.
Before Dr. Moot could reply, Madam Erys abruptly stood up as if an unseen puppeteer had yanked her upright by invisible strings. Please excuse me; I need a drink, she said in a cold, clipped voice. As the glover headed toward the bar, a look of relief flickered across Dr. Moots eyes.
Nina was a wonderful, wonderful woman, he said, speaking in a conspiratorial whisper, as if afraid of being overheard. I met her at the same place I met your uncleat Thamaturgical College. She and I were both studying the Healing Arts, and happened to take the same potions class under Professor Kohl. I later went into psychic surgery, while she developed into one of the best potion-makers Ive ever known. One day I invited her over to the workshop I shared with your uncle, to see what we were working on. The moment she and Esau saw one another, any chance I had with her went out the window. He gave a wry, sad laugh at that point, and suddenly, despite myself, I felt a twinge of pity for the butchering bastard. Nina was a very kind and caring womanand thats what made her such a marvelous healer. She could not look at a person in pain and not be moved to alleviate their suffering.
Im having a hard time imagining my uncle being married to someone like that, Hexe said skeptically.
Esau was . . . different back then, Dr. Moot said with a heavy sigh. He was always possessed of a strong personality, and he was never that fond of humans to begin with, but he didnt become a devotee of the Left Hand Path and radical misanthrope until after he lost Nina. She was the one who kept his darker nature in check, I guess.
What, exactly, happened to her?
About thirty-five years ago, Nina got a call from one of her steady clients who lived outside Golgotham. The client had originally been cursed with dropsy, which Nina succeeded in reversing. However, the client later suffered an unexpected relapse, swelling up like a parade balloon. Although she was uncomfortable with leaving Golgotham at that time of night, Nina agreed to personally deliver the necessary potion. On her way back from the clients apartment, she ran afoul of a group of human street toughs, who, once they realized she was Kymeran, starting chasing her.
Nina wasnt a strong spellcasterlike I said, her specialty was potionsand didnt believe in using offensive magic, even for defensive purposes. She was so desperate to avoid conflict, she ran out into Broadway without looking, and was hit by a Yellow Cab. She was already in a coma when they wheeled her into the ER at Golgotham General. As it happened, I was working the surgery rotation when she came in. I tried my best to revive her, but the trauma was too great. I was forced to declare her brain-dead. Esau never forgave me for not saving her. And neither did I. Moot fell silent for a long moment, his eyes unfocused, as if watching something far away and long ago, before taking a deep breath and shaking himself free. Let me see your hand.
Hexe shifted about uncomfortably, but did as he was asked, presenting his splinted hand for inspection. Dr. Moot pursed his lips and gently probed the damaged appendage, his own hand climbing about it like a spider checking its web. To my horror, the psychic surgeons fingertips dipped beneath Hexes skin as easily as if they were breaking the surface of a pool of water.
The injuries to the metacarpals are quite severe, Moot said with a frown. But the nerve damage isnt as bad as I would have thought. I should be able to bond the gauntlet relatively easily.
How soon can you do the work? Hexe asked, excitement starting to seep into his voice.
Ive got a surgery set up in Pickmans Slip, Moot replied. I can do it now, if thats what you want.
Are you certain you want to go through with this, Hexe? I asked worriedly. Everything seemed to be moving way too fast and way too weird, even for Golgotham.
What I want has nothing to do with it, he replied grimly. I have no choice in this matter. I have to regain dexterity in my right hand. Without it, I cant provide for myself, much less our child.
There was a sudden gasp, and I looked up to find Madam Erys had returned from the bar. She stood there with a snifter of Cynar in one hand, staring at me with a barely concealed looked of disgust and horror. So much for inviting her to the baby shower.
Chapter 13
It was not surprising Moot worked out of Pickmans Slip. Golgothams riverfront neighborhood was notorious for its rows of ancient warehouses, flops, and taverns that catered to longshoremen, and had long been considered the kind of place where dirty deeds could be done dirt cheap.
Save for the tacky, over-the-top splendor of Loreleis tiki restaurant, Pickmans Slip can be best described as low-rent, although depressing and unsafe also come to mind. The neighborhoods general gloominess is due to its close proximity to the Ferry Street Terminus, which houses the elaborate barques that transport Golgothams dead to their final resting place on Scylla Point. As for the Slips reputation for being dangerous, that was largely due to the troll community that dwelt beneath the nearby Brooklyn Bridge.
Dr. Moots place of business was located in the basement below a dilapidated meat pie shop, next door to a hookah bar. The so-called surgery was one huge room that smelled of rising damp, with thick, square-cut posts supporting the ceiling, which was so low it was impossible to wear a hat indoors. There was an antique surgery table, the type raised and lowered by a huge, wheellike crank, in the middle of the room, above which dangled a mechanics lamp suspended by a bright orange extension cord. One corner was sectioned off with old blankets strung from clothesline, behind which was what passed for Moots living quarters.
Roll up your sleeve and make yourself comfortable, Serenity, Moot said, patting the surgical tables stainless-steel top.
Hexe, I dont think this is a good idea, I whispered as he hopped up onto the table. I mean, look at this place! It couldnt pass inspection as a tattoo parlor! I wouldnt let this guy neuter Beanie, much less try to fix your hand!
Tate, I know youre concerned, he replied wearily. But, please, I beg of you, stop trying to talk me out of this.
I know, I know, I sighed. Its a Kymeran thing; I wouldnt understand.
Dr. Moot opened a cupboard and removed a dark green bottle without a label. He poured a finger of thick, bright yellow liquid into a greasy-looking shot glass and handed it to Hexe.
What is that? I asked, intercepting the glass and giving it a suspicious sniff.
Safflower oil, if you must know, Dr. Moot replied sharply, snatching it back from my hand. Its for his safety. Psychic surgery itself is relatively painless, but I cant have him wriggling around while Im working, can I?
Ill be okay, Tate, Hexe said as he accepted the shot glass, just as long as you promise to hold my left hand.
Believe me, Im not going anywhere, I assured him.
Hexe knocked back the safflower oil like it was a shot of tequila and stretched out on the surgical table. I stood next to him, holding his left hand in both of my own. Within seconds his facial muscles began to relax and his golden eyes rolled back in his head.
Moot slipped on a headband that resembled an antique doctors reflector, save that it was fashioned from a flat scrying stone and set on a swivel, so that it could be rotated in front of his eyes. After removing the splint from Hexes right hand, he turned to Madam Erys, who was holding what looked like a clamshell jewelry case. She flipped open the lid, revealing the Gauntlet of Nydd. Even in the miserable light of Moots dingy surgery, the artifact glittered and gleamed like frost at sunrise.
Heavens and hells! Moot exclaimed hoarsely, shaking his head in admiration. Such exquisite workmanship! It makes Esaus prosthetic arms look like clockwork toys! Once he removed the gauntlet, Erys closed the case with a snap that would have done a crocodile proud.
Dr. Moot removed the splint on Hexes wounded hand and carefully slipped the gauntlet onto Hexes hand. As he did so, I was finally able to get my first unobstructed view of the damage inflicted by the witch-hammer since the night of the attack. Although I was relieved to see the swelling and bruising had been greatly reduced, I was shocked to discover that Hexes fingers looked as if they were trying to avoid one another.
Once the gauntlet was secured in place, Moot strode over to a nearby table and plunged his hands into a jar of that blue stuff barbers keep their combs in. Flicking the excess disinfectant from his hands, he took a deep breath and flipped the scrying stone attached to his headband into place over his right eye and began to gently stroke Hexes wrist and forearm with his long, delicate fingers.
At first I could not tell what he was doing. Then I saw the psychic surgeons fingertips dip past the gauntlet covering Hexes mangled hand. Moots spidery digits moved like those of a skilled lace maker as he spliced nerve endings, grafted muscle, and shaved away bone without shedding a drop of blood. After an hour, he stepped away from the table and swung the scrying stone back into place, his face drawn and covered in sweat.
The bonding is completed, he said, his voice shaking ever so slightly. He walked back over to the prep table and took a swig from the jar of blue stuff. There. Thats better.
How long before he wakes up? I asked anxiously, staring at Hexes silver-clad hand.
He should come out of it in five minutes or so, Dr. Moot said. Now, if youll excuse me, there are some matters that require discussion with Madam Erys. With that, he and the glover retired behind the curtains at the back of the surgery.
I looked down at my own hands, which were still clasping Hexes motionless left one. His breathing was that of a man in a deep sleep, and I could tell that his eyeballs were twitching behind their lids, keeping track of whatever was gamboling through his drug-fueled dreams. It was the most peaceful Id seen him since the Jubilee.
Everythings going to be all right, I murmured aloud, more for my benefit than his, as I brushed the purple hair away from his face.
Suddenly Dr. Moots voice announced heatedly from behind the curtain: Ive done what you asked of me! Whatever debt I owed is now paid in full! Never contact me againis that understood? I cant bear the sight of you. Wasnt it enough that you lured her away? Must you torment me in such a ghastly manner as well?
She was not lured, Erys replied dryly. She chose of her own free will. When will you get that through that liquor-soaked sponge you call your brain? But I am more than happy to agree to your conditions. Far be it from me to prevent you from continuing to wallow in self-pity and whatever intoxicant might be closest to hand.
Before I could wonder what the two could be possibly squabbling about, Hexes eyelids fluttered and he began to stir.
Hes coming around! I shouted.
The arguing voices fell silent. Dr. Moot threw back the blankets that served as his privacy curtain and returned to the table. He took Hexes pulse and inspected his pupils. How do you feel, Serenity? he asked.
Did it work? Hexe rasped in reply.
Theres only one way to find out, Moot said as he helped his patient sit up. As Hexe swung his legs over the side of the table, the psychic surgeon picked up the shot glass he had used to serve the sedative and tossed it at him. Catch!
Hexe snatched the flying glass in midair with his right hand without a moments hesitation. He then stared in amazement at his appendage, now encased from wrist to fingertips in shimmering silver and white gold.
Is there any pain? Moot asked.
Theres no pain, Hexe replied with a shake of his head. I can tell that the glass Im holding has weight and is hard and smooth, but the sensations themselves are . . . distant, like Im picking something up while wearing a silk glove.
That disconnected feeling should fade, in time, Moot assured him. Eventually the gauntlet will completely merge with the sensory receptors in your brain, and itll be just like the hand you were born with.
I owe you my life, Dr. Moot, Hexe said solemnly.
Moot flinched and dropped his gaze. You owe me nothing, Serenity. This was done to discharge a debt, not out of any desire to curry favor.
Regardless of the reason, you have still done me a great service I will not soon forget.
You are too kind, Serenity, the psychic surgeon muttered, his cheeks flushing red.
Can I take him home now? I asked, not bothering to hide my eagerness to get the hell away from Moot and Madam Erys.
Of course, Moot replied, quickly regathering himself. There may be the occasional hiccup over the next few days as his nervous system becomes accustomed to the gauntlet, but otherwise, hes good to go.
I thank you for the loan of the gauntlet, Madam Erys, Hexe said as he put his jacket back on, this time without my help.
The honor is all mine, Serenity, the glover replied, her pale gray eyes shining like pieces of polished tin. May you wear it in good health.
As we exited Dr. Moots surgery, we were greeted by a wall of fog from the nearby river, which turned the surrounding buildings into smeared outlines and hid us from any nosy neighbors. Although the streets seemed deserted, Hexe kept his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, just to be on the safe side.
As we headed back to the boardinghouse, I noticed that his shoulders were no longer stooped and that he now walked with a far more confident stride. I wasnt sure how much of it was directly due to the gauntlet, or simply a placebo effect, but I was glad to see him more like his old self.
Upon our return to the boardinghouse Beanie came scampering out of the kitchen. He was so eager to tell us hello, he leapt up in the air like a two-tone springbok.
Im glad to see you, too! Hexe laughed, reaching out to pet Beanie, only to have the dog suddenly yelp in alarm.
Whats wrong, boy? Hexe frowned as Beanie dropped his ears and drew away, shivering as if he was freezing.
Hes freaked out because your hand doesnt have the same scent as the rest of you, Scratch explained as he entered the front parlor.
Hexe lifted the gauntlet to his nose and gave it a sniff. I hadnt really noticed it before, but now that you mention it, it does smell like Erys. I guess thats to be expectedit was in her possession for some time. No doubt itll eventually acquire my scent once Ive worn it for a while.
A little heavy on the bling, dont you think? Scratch asked, eyeing his masters silver-clad hand.
It can glow in the dark, for all I care, just as long as it enables me to use my right hand.
Later, as we prepared for bed, I found myself watching Hexe as he undressed, marveling at how the silver filigree mesh of the gauntlet gleamed like crushed ice on a hot summer day. Hexe caught me staring and halted his disrobing.
Does the sight of it bother you? he asked.
No, I think its quite beautiful, I replied truthfully. But Im uneasy about Madam Erys motivation for giving it to you. I dont like that woman, Hexe, and I dont trust her. Whenever she looks in my direction, I can feel hatred oozing out of her.
Granted, Madam Erys is a misanthrope, Hexe agreed. But theres no reason to suspect her of anything more than calculated self-interest. Its fairly common for tradesmen to curry favor from the Royal Family by presenting us with elaborate gifts in hopes of winning a royal warrant. Why do you think Lafo and Lorelei are always so glad to see me at their establishments? Its not just because theyre my friends. Being able to claim a member of the Royal Family as a regular client still means something in Golgotham, even in this day and age. Sometimes its good to be the Witch Kingor at least the Heir Apparent. And tonight was one of those times.
Does it feel like your hand? I asked.
Why dont you tell me? he smiled, sliding it along my naked body until it finally came to rest on my hip.
The silver chain mail was so tightly woven it was more like the skin of a snake than something forged from metal. Although his right hand felt slightly cool and distant against my flesh, it didnt keep me from noticing how warm and close the rest of him was.
* * *
A couple of hours later, after thoroughly testing how his gauntleted hand held up under pressure (which turned out to be pretty well), I woke up from a sound sleep. I lay in the bed for a long moment, my thoughts still muzzy, trying to figure out what had jettisoned me back into the waking world. Did I have to pee? Was I thirsty? Was I tangled up in the bedclothes? Was Beanie snoring? Was Scratch kicking me in his sleep again?
As I ran down the checklist, answering no to each question, I became aware of a rhythmic tapping sound. I rose up on one elbow and looked down at Hexe, who was asleep on his back, his left arm carelessly thrown across his forehead and his right hand resting on his naked chest. The tapping noisewhich I now realized was what had awakened mewas that of the fingers of his gauntleted hand drumming against his sternum, as if patiently biding their time.
Chapter 14
Now that he had regained the use of his right hand, Hexe was his old self once again. I was relieved to see the gleam back in his golden eyes and hear the confidence return to his voice. Since that very next day was my day off, Hexe had planned a leisurely, romantic breakfast for the two of us. However, those plans were quickly dashed by an unexpected knock.
Upon opening the door, Hexe was surprised to find his mother, Lady Syra, standing on the stoop. Before he could say hello, she breezed past him and into the front room.
So, exactly when were you going to tell me Im going to be a grandmother? she asked, fixing him with a withering glare. Before the baby arrived, or after?
How did you know? Hexe sputtered in surprise.
Besides being your mother, I am also a professional astrologer, she reminded him sharply. And it so happens, while I was drawing up your fathers horoscope, as a present for his birthdayand dont you dare tell him thats what hes gettingI saw in the stars that he was going to be a grandfather! Imagine my surprise! Especially since I was finding out from the orientation of Orions Belt and not my own son! I might as well have read it in the gossip column of the Gazette!
Im sorry, Mom, Hexe apologized. Ive been meaning to tell you, but Tate and I just wanted a little private time as a couple before everything goes crazy and the Blue Hairs start calling for my head on a pike.
Granted, the hard-line aristos are not going to be thrilled when they hear the news, she sighed. But thats no reason to keep me out of the loop!
Soyoure not upset that were having a baby? I asked anxiously.
Heavens and hells, no! Lady Syra exclaimed, throwing her arms around me. I cant wait to be a grandmamma!
I blinked in surprise. You mean you dont have any problems with the new Heir Apparent being half human?
An odd look crossed the Witch Queens face, which she quickly tried to camouflage by smiling. Why dont we deal with that problem when it arises, shall we? Whatever happens, I wont love my grandchild any less.
What do you mean by whatever happens? I asked suspiciously.
You think our child is going to be a norlock, dont you? Hexe said flatly.
A what-lock? I frowned.
Its slang for Kymerans born incapable of working magic, he explained grimly. Their extra fingers end at the second knuckle. My grandfather used to employ a norlock named Jake when I was a boy. He lived in a little cottage at the foot of the garden.
Please dont take what Im about to say the wrong way, my dear, Syra said apologetically. But very few half-castes are born fully functional in the magic department. Understand Im not trying to be negative, my dear; Im just being practical. There is also a very good chance your child might not even be of Royal blood. . . .
Are you suggesting that Hexe isnt the father? I gasped.
Of course not! Lady Syra replied quickly. Its just that . . .
Just what, exactly? I retorted, trying to keep hold of my temper.
If the baby doesnt have gold eyes, it cant be recognized as heir to the Throne of Arum, she replied, shifting about uncomfortably. It can never be a member of the Royal Family.
Why are you so certain this will be the case with our child? Hexe scowled.
Because youre not the first Heir Apparent to take a fancy to a human, Lady Syra explained. Great Uncle Jack, the one who built this house, had a child by a human mistress shortly before he disappeared. His son was born a norlock. Your great-grandfather, Lord Jynx, refused to acknowledge him as one of us because he had his mothers eyes.