The Black Orchid

Chapter 2 

CHAPTER 2

It didn’t take long before they were racing through the maze-like canyon of streets that was Machinist Crescent. Warehouses towered around them, the streets too narrow for the moonlight to reach the ground. Rory didn’t want to risk the rooftops here — most of them were zinc, and while Cruikshank’s steam-powered spider was generally quiet, its legs created a serious racket when walking on metal.

Rory inhaled deeply, revelling in the cooler night wind in her hair and the vastness of the sky overhead. A trace of nostalgia lingered within her: she’d been dreaming about her old friend Two Planks when Longinus woke her up, and the dream had been particularly vivid. It had been so long since she had gone to see him, and she felt guilty. Come morning she’d go to the Rookery. Maybe spend the whole day there.

It wasn’t exactly as if she was needed. The Old Girl, the Marchioness of Damsport, had given Rory and Longinus nothing to do since roping them into her service. She had made it clear that she didn’t trust them, demanding that they stay under Cruikshank’s supervision. Since then, she had clearly forgotten about them.

Rory knew she couldn’t complain. She had a roof over her head — a real one, not one she had made from rubbish collected from the streets — she got paid every month so she never went hungry, and all she had to do was sit on her arse all day and twiddle her thumbs. Not only that, Longinus had continued training her in sword fighting, and she was improving leaps and bounds. She should be thrilled — it was, in theory, the perfect arrangement.

Except that Rory was bored. Horribly, terribly bored. Stealing things from Cruikshank and Longinus helped somewhat — Rory set herself increasingly difficult challenges, and her ultimate aim was to steal the pillows under their heads as they slept. She smiled to herself: now that would be a worthy steal.

But she missed running on the roofs. She missed the sense of danger and adventure that came with her old life. She missed the thrill of picking a purse or conning a mark. Cruikshank wouldn’t hear of Rory and Longinus going out to roam the streets. They were under her supervision, she told them each time they suggested going out, and unless the Marchioness gave them work to do, they would wait in the workshop as instructed.

“b****y honest types,” Rory muttered to herself.

“What?” Longinus asked behind her.

“Nothing.”

Once they were out of Machinist Crescent, Rory guided the spider up a house’s wall and onto the roof. She backed the spider to one end of the roof and pushed it to full speed, hurtling towards the opposite edge. As she reached the edge, she pushed the lever that released a powerful burst of steam from the spider’s abdomen and legs. They jumped easily to the next roof.

“Yeah!” she shouted, grinning from the thrill of it. Cruikshank had taught her to use the spider, but had never let her take it out of the workshop. This was infinitely better than making it jump over chairs.

They jumped again, and Rory increased the speed. Her rope-like hair streamed behind her. The spider’s legs moved so fast on either side that they were a blur, and the rapid clicking they made sounded like rain hitting the tiles.

Rory threw caution to the wind, hooting and cheering at each jump as they continued to race towards Longinus’ tailor.

* * *

Longinus was so pale as to be almost grey by the time they reached their destination.

“This method of transportation is entirely inadequate for the Viper,” he announced in a shaky voice as he climbed down, staggering a little on shaking legs.

“Oh, was I going too fast?” asked Rory. “Sorry.” She had forgotten him in her delight at racing across the roofs at full speed. Still, she wouldn’t have expected him to be so pale from a little jumping.

He cleared his throat as he regained a little colour. He fussed with his long hair, running a hand through it. Longinus’ hair had to be the most pampered hair in Damsport, treated to the extravagance of monthly visits to the barber. A waste of money in Rory’s book — she had never once cut or brushed her hair and it did just fine.

“I’ll go put the spider up on the roof, out of sight,” said Rory.

“Good idea.”

Once the spider was up on the roof, Rory lowered herself back down using her grappling hook and silk line. Longinus was busy tying a brown and cream handkerchief over his mouth and nose.

“Here,” he said once he was done. “I brought something for your hair.”

“How many times we got to go through this?” Rory flung up her hands. “I ain’t changing my hair, it is what it is, alright?”

“Yes, and because it is what it is, it’s recognisable. You need to hide it if you want to be discreet.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh.’ Now, I studied the hair-wrapping methods used by the desert tribes, and they should work for you. Let it not be said that I don’t look after my assistant.”

“I ain’t your assistant,” said Rory. “How many times?”

“As long as it takes for you to realise that you are my assistant.” Longinus got to work, wrapping the long scarf around her hair. “There, that should do it.”

The scarf covered Rory’s head and hair, one end falling across her cheeks and mouth, obscuring part of her face.

“Very good, very mysterious. Ah, it’s time,” he said, as the cacophony of bells that signalled midnight started up. “Let’s go in.”

Longinus knocked on the door in a complicated rhythm.

“Secret knock,” he whispered.

“Of course.” Rory rolled her eyes.

The door opened silently and Longinus stepped inside, followed by Rory. They found themselves in a large room illuminated only by diagonal shafts of moonlight that filtered through the windows. At the far end of the room Rory could make out bolts of cloth leaning in a neat row against the wall.

“Who do I have the pleasure of addressing?” asked a deep voice, startling Rory.

She had thought the room empty, but now she noticed a red, glowing circle among the shadows of one corner. The red light flared a little, and Rory saw that it was the end of a cigar. Holding it was a long-fingered hand, and behind it were a pointed nose, flared nostrils, and thin lips framed by hollow cheeks that sharpened as their owner took a drag. The ember reflected in the man’s eyes, making him look for that brief moment like some hellish creature.

As he exhaled and removed the cigar, his face fell into obscurity once more, the glowing ember seeming to float in the air.

“The Viper,” said Longinus, in a lower voice than usual.

The red ember of the cigar danced at this, and a small alchemical lamp came on next to the tailor The light was very low, but its sudden contrast to the darkness made Rory squint. She could just make out a small table on which a crystal ashtray rested next to the alchemical globe. Next to the table was a shadowed pair of legs wearing tailored trousers over gleaming shoes. The light wasn’t quite bright enough to illuminate the tailor’s face and torso.

“Ah, yes, Master Viper,” the man said, fussing with the fabric of his trousers. He took a deep drag on his cigar, and Rory got the distinct impression that he was nervous.

“Here about the promised black silk,” added Longinus.

“Yes, yes, the black silk.” The tailor took another drag of the cigar. “It is my-my great, ah… great regret. That is, it is with great, ah —”

“Yes?” Longinus asked.

“Well, the thing is,” said the tailor, voice quavering. “That, ah, as far as black silk goes… Well, I am rather ashamed, I am, ah…” Another deep drag of his cigar. “There is no black silk.”

Rory felt a noticeable shift in the atmosphere, as if the air had tensed and the temperature had dropped a degree or two. She stepped cautiously away from Longinus.

“What did you say?” Longinus’ voice was barely more than a whisper, but it had an edge that could have cut glass.

“My dear Viper, p-p-please accept my most sincerest apologies,” said the tailor, putting his cigar in the ashtray with a shaking hand. “Nobody is bringing black silk in at the moment. I’ve tried, I’ve searched high and low —”

“Your excuses don’t interest me,” snapped Longinus. “You had a shipment coming today from which you were to explicitly set aside the black silk I needed. Now I am here for this black silk. I have paid for black silk. I have waited far too long for black silk.”

“I-I know, but the shipment was apparently, ah, intercepted… I’m — I’m so sorry.”

“You know that I am a man of refinement, of manners,” Longinus said pointedly. “You know that as such, I wouldn’t dream of assassinating at my tailor’s.”

Rory fancied she could see the tailor’s trousers dampen with sweat.

“But surely even you can see that I am being pushed beyond what a reasonable man could be expected to endure. It has been two months, two months, and you have been unable to provide me with the silk I need.”

“I’m so terribly —”

“I want solutions, not apologies.”

“I have a lovely charcoal grey! Yes, a charcoal grey. So dark in fact that in certain lights, in the night it almost looks…” The tailor’s voice faltered as the tension in the air seemed to thicken. “No, of course not grey. I could, ah… I could… I do have one, er… It’s in black silk, but it’s… it’s ready, ah —“

“Do my ears deceive me, or are you offering me off-the-rack?”

“I could tailor it for you, though. As a temporary… I’m aware, Master Viper, just how far from ideal this is, but it could, ah, tide you over until… I will get you that black silk.”

Longinus crossed his arms.

The silence stretched on.

Rory shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“Very well,” Longinus said at last. “A temporary measure. And if my silk doesn’t arrive soon…”

“I promise… I promise,” said the tailor. “Everything in my power to make the wait as short as possible.”

“Good. And you will also clothe my assistant in that charcoal grey you mentioned.”

“Whoa,” said Rory. “I never agreed to nothing like that.”

“You need new clothes,” said Longinus.

“No, I don’t. My leathers are fine just as they are.”

“They don’t fit you properly. They’re too big, they’re not tailored —“

“I don’t care.”

“I could, ah, I could at least tailor them for you, young lady,” said the tailor.

“I ain’t no lady,” said Rory.

“She isn’t a lady,” confirmed Longinus. He turned to her. “But you’re getting new clothes.”

“Nope, and don’t you try and make me neither.”

“Rory…” Longinus’ voice was dangerous.

“Longinus…” Rory matched his tone.

“The gods be damned, girl. There is an art to irritation, but you take things to a whole new level.”

Rory grinned. “Well, you know what they say about imitation and flattery…”

Longinus sighed. “We won’t be clothing my assistant tonight,” he informed the tailor.

“Certainly. But if you ever want or need anything …”

“Considering your recent reliability, we won’t be coming to you. Please also note that I will be looking into this recent penury of black silk. If I find that you’ve been lying, if you’ve been hiding any shipments from me… If I find out that you have had any kind of involvement in preventing me from being attired as I should be, I shall consider our Peace null and void. And since you’ll have wronged me, I shall be fully in my rights to come visit you with one of my poisons.”

The tailor shook visibly at that. “Please believe that —”

“Enough. I will subject myself to your pre-made clothing. Let us get this unpleasant situation over with as quickly as possible.”