Arcadia Snips and the Steamwork Consortium Part 24

Snips stood at the edge of the cliff, wind swirling at her back. The Committee for the Fair Distribution of Cake had cornered her, all of them bristling with an array of savage-looking weapons.

"I'm failing to see any cake," the old man said, standing at the front of the mob. Every so often, his left eyebrow would give a frightful twitch.

"Right. About that. The cake thing, I mean," Snips said, grinning. "Funny story, actually. There isn't any."

"I beg your pardon?"

"There is no cake," she repeated.

"Oh, wait," one of the Cake-ites behind the old man said. "I think I've heard of this before. It's like, you know, one of those zen koans."

"Zen what?" the old man asked, looking over his shoulder.

"It's like a riddle," the Cake-ite said. "You have to try and solve it. Like, if a tree falls in the woods and n.o.body's around to hear it, does it make a sound?"

"Of course it makes a b.l.o.o.d.y sound. Why wouldn't it?" the old man shouted, frustrated. "That's a stupid riddle!"

"Well, I think the point is that zen Buddhists are horrible with riddles," the Cake-ite said.

"So if we solve her stupid riddle," the old man said, "we get cake?"

"Or maybe the cake is a metaphor," the Cake-ite said.

"Like, you have to reject the cake and all its worldly temptations -"

"And then you get a better cake?" the old man asked, getting impatient.

"That'd be the gist of it, aye."

The reverend turned to face Snips. "Right, then. So, about your stupid riddle."

Snips crept back another step, glancing over her shoulder at the yawning chasm that lay behind her. She caught sight of something, blinked with surprise, and looked back to the mob with a smile stocked full of cheer.

And then she stepped backwards, dropping off the cliff.

The reverend blinked. He looked back at his followers, then back to the cliff. "Well, erm-that was... That was unexpected."

"Huh. Usually, they at least have the courtesy to let us lynch them first," a Cake-ite sniffed disdainfully. "I mean-that's just unprofessional."

"You'd think people would have more courtesy these days,"

another follower agreed.

And that's when the cake arrived.

The gondola was no more than a puzzle of junk fitted together with wedges of wood and rusty iron; its balloon had been woven from an a.s.sortment of fabrics, giving it a lumpy shape. The fact that it flew at all was basis enough for a theory proving the existence of divine intervention.

The balloon itself had once been painted into the likeness of a pig, its paint faded and peeling. On either of its sides were smeared drawings of wings; its front bared the worn-but-still-cheered face of a porcine grin, complete with stubby nose. And on its side was a torn and tattered placard, which read: FREE CAKE!

At once, the Cake-ites fell to their knees. Snips slid down from the top of the balloon where she had landed, dropping in next to Miss Primrose-who was covered in soot and busily feeding fire to the brazier at the airship's center. They exchanged glances, looked back to the Cake-ites below, and then turned their gazes towards their destination-the tallest steep in the Heap.

The a.s.sa.s.sin searched the patterns of smoke with his eyes, raking through them like a fortune teller in search of his destiny.

He had picked the highest hill in the Heap for several reasons, not least of which was the ability to see anyone approaching it from a good hundred yards away. He had set an array of traps on all sides in preparation for Snips' ascent; it was very likely that the poor girl would get herself killed without ever even reaching the top. And if that didn't work, well...

That's what the rifle was for.

The a.s.sa.s.sin tore his gaze away from the smoke that unfolded from his pipe, returning his mind to his perch. He swept across all sides of the crumbling ruins with the gun's lens, searching for some sign of the thief in the night. Nothing.

Maybe she was smart enough not to come, he thought.

Despite his dedication to the task at hand, he found his mind drifting up with the streams of smoke that emerged from his pipe. More than once, he caught his eyes drifting away from the telescope and up to the moonlit sky. On one such occasion, he began to ponder the moon itself, and wonder what kept it afloat.

It was on this occasion that he noticed the distant cloud.

"b.a.s.t.a.r.d," the a.s.sa.s.sin swore, realizing his mistake. Of course! Why hadn't he thought of it? His advantage was height and time; it only made sense that the thief would seek to outdo him.

The a.s.sa.s.sin stood up and took careful aim at the airship that was rapidly approaching from beneath the moon.

The gunshot took them both by surprise. Snips had a.s.sumed the a.s.sa.s.sin wouldn't bother to look up, preoccupied with his a.s.sumed cleverness in setting the encounter somewhere high; the fact that she had put the moon directly behind them only occurred as an afterthought, prompting Snips to curse her own lack of foresight.

The bullet tore a gaping wound through the balloon's body.

Miss Primrose grasped the rudder and did her best to steer, but the ship only groaned out a complaint and kept going the way it was going. They were sinking, and sinking fast-at this rate, they'd be hitting the spire of rubble somewhere above its center.

Another gunshot rang out. Snips ducked for cover as another hole appeared; that bullet had come far too close for comfort. The smart move would be to stay low until they landed, then try to scramble for cover.

"When we hit," Snips yelled, "stay low and out of sight.

Just look for cover, all right? I'll get William."

Miss Primrose shouted something, but by then it was too late; the airship crashed against the spire with all the grace of an anvil dropping on a pile of manure. Snips had avoided getting herself shot, but now she had to worry about falling-and whatever traps the a.s.sa.s.sin had no doubt set. Already, Snips could see what looked like a figure descending down the labyrinth of junk, rifle in hand.

Leaving Primrose behind to the cover of the airship, Snips dove behind a half-sunken sofa and pressed her back against it. She closed her eyes and tried to steady herself, pondering over her options.

"Arcadia Snips?" The a.s.sa.s.sin shouted down. "We haven't formally met. Anyway, in case you're curious, here are my terms: Come out by the count of three and let me shoot you or I'll shoot the boy."

Snips sighed. The direct approach; she had to admire that in a killer. She drew out the length of twine from her pocket, swinging it over the top of her hat.

"Three."

Like water, Snips thought, clenching her teeth. Be like water. She slid the string over her hat, pulling it down and knotting it under her chin.

"Two."

She adjusted the parasol looped through her belt, making sure it wasn't in the way.

"One."

"Soar," she whispered, rushing out in a sprint; before her was the most complicated obstacle course she had ever beheld. It made her days of leaping among the vendors and carts of the Rookery look like child's play. Everywhere she looked, there was a sharp edge to catch her-a rusty hook to snag her. She steeled herself and dove forward, hands reaching out for hard surfaces to latch onto.

She heard the thunder-crack of a rifle; something popped behind her. But she was no longer paying attention to him, only the world around her. Like a mad acrobat, she leapt and cavorted among buried ovens and the rusty husks of long-broken bathtubs.

She kicked off a shattered cabinet, rolled up and sprang from a bed frame, and ducked between two slabs of concrete arranged in pillars.

Another rifle-shot sounded out somewhere behind her; she vaulted up to one pillar, kicked off it with her foot, then kicked off the next. By then, she was high enough to catch the top of the column with the edge of her fingers. She dragged herself up and leapt into the air, descending down for the next pile.

Directly below and in front of her was the top of the a.s.sa.s.sin's little house. And sitting on its roof was William, eyes wide, mouth gagged-tied down to a chair.

Snips leapt and landed in front of him, pulling the umbrella out with one hand. Opening it with a snap in hopes that it would ward off the next shot, she darted up to s.n.a.t.c.h the gag out of William's mouth.

"It's a trap!" he screamed.

It was only then that Snips noticed the abundance of small gla.s.s spheres placed in a weighted net beneath the chair. Each one contained two chemicals, separated by a thin wafer of metal; each had an odd looking pin. And tied to each pin was a length of string, which bundled together into a single metal wire that extended from beneath the chair to the distant perch from which the rifle shots were coming...

The metal wire drew back with a snap. At once, every pin was drawn free. The chemicals mixed and fermented into an array of brilliant colors.

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l," Snips said.

The a.s.sa.s.sin smiled.

He set the rifle aside and rose up from his perch, moving to circle around and make his way towards the smoldering slag where his house had once stood. There remained only one final task; to collect whatever remained of Snips' body and turn it in for his reward.

But as he approached the smoking ruin, he could not help but notice that there was a distinct lack of gruesome body-parts decorating the ground. He glanced high and low, frowning. Had he used too many explosives? He had wanted to make sure, of course; could her remains have been disintegrated?

Something clunked behind him. He turned around, instinctively drawing his pistol-but what he saw left him too startled to pull the trigger.

Snips was floating down from above, clutching the umbrella in both arms, its S-shaped hook jammed underneath the back of William's chair. The boy was currently unconscious, but Snips was very much awake, and staring straight at the a.s.sa.s.sin.

Her hat was missing.

Regaining his composure, he lifted his gun to fire just as she touched ground. She managed to bring the parasol down to deflect the shot, then disappeared with William and the chair beneath a mound of rusty metal. The a.s.sa.s.sin cursed, stepping back to take measure of the situation.

"Lucky little b.u.g.g.e.r," he said aloud, addressing Snips. "By the way, do you mind if I call you Miss Arcadia Arcanum?"

Silence greeted him. The a.s.sa.s.sin smiled.

"Oh, yes, did I forget to mention that I know all about your little secret? The missing scion of the Arcanum estate. Daughter of the great genius, Nigel Arcanum." He crept forward, gun in hand.

"So why did you run away from home, hm? Didn't daddy give you enough love?"

Almost there. He leveled the gun towards one side of the mound expectantly, bending his knees and tensing his legs.

Something leapt out the left side of the mound; the a.s.sa.s.sin had already swiveled and fired before he realized it was just the umbrella. The girl darted out from the opposite side with a speed that took him by surprise, swinging her crowbar around like a jackhammer. It cracked hard against the a.s.sa.s.sin's forearm, forcing him to drop the pistol.

He spat out a series of curses and darted back, nursing the injured limb. He quickly reached for his second pistol, but before he could even slip it out of his holster, Snips was wearing a smile.

"Oh, you," she said, eyes gleaming with recognition. "I remember you."

"Huh?"

Snips lifted her clenched fist to her mouth, rolled open several fingers, and proceeded to produce a single sound: " Quack."

Jake 'The Beak' Montgomery shrieked like a little girl and started to fire.

William's recollection of the previous few minutes was groggy at best. Despite this, he was gradually becoming aware of his surroundings. He realized that he was propped up against a wall of rusty bedpans and broken cabinets, listening to the sound of wild gunshots and screaming.

"You!" The a.s.sa.s.sin shouted somewhere behind him. "It was you! Do you have any idea how long I had to go to therapy -"

The chair he had been sitting in had snapped nearly in half; it was a simple matter to slip free of his bindings. He crept around the mound, trying to piece together what was going on. Snips was currently struggling arm-in-arm with the a.s.sa.s.sin who had captured her previously, a gun held between them; shot after shot flew off into the air.

"Oh, shove it," Snips said, violently head-b.u.t.ting the man in the temple. The second gun tumbled from his grip and into the burning slag nearby.

"I'm going to mount your skull on my wall, you snarky little twit," he hissed.

William caught sight of the pistol that the a.s.sa.s.sin had previously dropped. He plucked it up, testing its weight in his hand and raising it up to take aim. Still dazed from the concussive force of the explosion, he walked towards the struggling pair.

"William!" Snips cried at the sight of the mathematician.

"Get back-"

The a.s.sa.s.sin used the moment of distraction to slam his elbow into Snips' stomach and send the thief reeling to the ground.

At once, he turned and sprang towards William, murder shining in his eyes.

William pulled the trigger.

It refused to budge.

"Typical," the a.s.sa.s.sin said. He chopped his hand across William's throat; the boy gasped for air as he crumpled to the ground. The gun was plucked from his limp hands and brought to bear on Snips.

Except she was already flying like an arrow, slamming headfirst into the a.s.sa.s.sin's chest. The gun fell from his hand as he stumbled back, teetering at the side of the mountain. He waved his arms for balance, looking at Snips with wide-eyed shock.

Snips plucked the large revolver from the ground and pulled the trigger in a single, fluid motion.

The bullet darted past the a.s.sa.s.sin's face, skipping across his left eye; he cried out in anguish as he slapped his hand over the wounded socket. His balance lost, the a.s.sa.s.sin fell-tumbling tumbling along the side of the mountain. Trap after trap went off, leading to an avalanche of rock and metal.