The Mechanical Crown

Door breaking

"Take your brother upstairs," Gatley said, ushering his children to the winding staircase which led to the only other space in the house.

The woman approached, moving with a sinister grace that reminded Gatley of a cat tracking a mouse. "You are Gatley?"

He nodded. "That's me."

"What's your full name?"

"Just Gatley, ma'am. Always just Gatley."

The woman watched the children disappear up the stairs. "Their mother can take care of them while we talk, I trust?"

"There's no mother," Gatley stated, "but they'll look after themselves."

He thought for a moment that there was a slight softening of the woman's expression, though it soon returned to its icy sharpness. Now that she stood close, Gatley saw that she was barely a woman, perhaps only four or five years older than Lora.

One of the guards pushed Gatley down hard onto one of the rickety wooden chairs. He'd learnt a long time ago not to question the guards and would answer them as best he could and hope that they'd leave without turning the house upside-down.

The woman slapped a rough pencil drawing of a boy's face onto the table. It took a few seconds for Gatley to associate it with the boy from the sewer. He sighed, beginning to understand his situation.

"The boy," he said.

"You know him?" the woman asked.

"I met him yesterday, if that's what you mean. Pulled him out of a sewer. Not seen him before then, and not expecting to see him again."

She signalled to the guards, two of whom climbed up the stairs. Gatley watched with grim resignation as they disappeared from view. His children were clever - cleverer by far than he was. They'd know to cooperate. Besides, they had nothing to hide, no more than any other starving family in the district.

"Where did you last see him?" The woman took a step closer, so that she was standing uncomfortably near to where he was sat.

Gatley thought back to the previous afternoon. "He was a sorry sight," he recalled, "and I told him to go clean himself up. He headed towards the waterfront."

"Did he say why he was in the sewer?"

"He didn't say much of anything at all," Gatley replied. He wondered if they'd ask him about the breaking of the sewer lock. "You should talk to the men in the Jolly Fish & Crown. I know at least Jed Garron saw the boy after me."

The woman grimaced and looked frustrated. The guards came back down the stairs and shook their heads.

Gatley cleared his throat. "One thing, if I may, ma'am?"

She stared at him, as if considering whether his words were worth her time. "What is it?"

"He wasn't just dirty," Gatley said. "He was a pathetic thing. Timid. Didn't look like he'd take too well to the streets. Looked harmless. Like he needed help, rather than to be captured. Although I'm sure you know the situation far better than me."

A cool silence echoed around the small room and Gatley felt the eyes of all the guards upon him. "Let us know if you see him again," the woman said. He realised, far too slowly, that she might be a King's Eye. He swallowed and felt his spine tighten in nervous anticipation.

"Of course," he replied.

There was a commotion at the door to the street and another guard bustled in. "Captain Martoc," he said, "there's been an odd business two streets over. There are bodies. Looks like gang activity, but witnesses identified the boy."

At a signal from her, the guards in the room abruptly made their way back towards the door. One of them reached down, past Gatley, and picked the small leg of meat from the plate in the centre of the table. Gatley clenched his jaw and held his tongue. The guard winked at him, then lifted the leg towards his grinning mouth. Before he was able to take a bite, the woman - the captain - shot out a hand and gripped his wrist, holding it forcibly in place in front of the guard's face, which rapidly drained of colour.

"Did you prepare and cook this food, Malburn?" Her face was implacable and expressionless, which made it somehow all the more intimidating.

The guard mumbled some syllables in response.

"Was it offered to you?"

The guard shook his heard.

"Return it, Malburn."

Hesitant, as if not quite believing the order, the guard sidled back to the table and dropped the leg back onto the plate. He shot a look of embarrassed anger towards Gatley, as if he was somehow to blame.

Without a further word, the woman and her guards were gone, leaving the battered door behind. Gatley pushed it shut and wedged a chair under the handle, noting that he would have to repair it properly before he went to bed. He had nails and a hammer which would do the job.

The patter of small feet announced Lora and Hale, clattering back down the stairs. Gatley took one last, forlorn look at the broken lock, then drew himself up, took a breath and turned to face his children.

"Who wants to eat dinner?" he said, smiling broadly, the evening's interruption already forgotten.