ThePudding
patreon
Engines of Obsession: Chapter 24
🕑 Added 2025-08-17 14:04:43 +0000 UTCChapter 24: What Was Never Said
Brigette quickly and efficiently lit the stove, then set the kettle atop it to get some water going for tea. While she did that, she gestured for Turner and Nora to sit. The pleasant scent of woodsmoke tickled at Turner's nose, mingling with the bitter odor of the tea set aside.
"Now... what is it that brought you to me? I never kept up with what my sister did, but I'm guessing you're here for that. You don't look hungry enough to be here to beg for money." Brigette folded her fingers together, easing into a chair.
Turner glanced at Nora as he took a seat, then cleared his throat. "I hate to only come by on business, but uh... yes." He frowned, "If she wouldn't tell you, maybe I shouldn't say too much. What brought us here, though, was finding out she left on the same ship as Tristan Middleton. I knew she'd vanished around the same time, but didn't know she left on the Scarlet Savior."
A look from Brigette passed over Nora, but seeing the other woman's face, Brigette directed her attention to Turner. "I guess your friend knows who my sister was. You must be very close, or you've been very reckless."
Nora snorted indignantly, "Turner, reckless? That never happens. Usually he's the one holding me back, and I'm not known for having a lack of caution."
"She knows," Turner confirmed, settling back in the chair. A comfortable wooden chair, he noted. Brigette wasn't wealthy, but she was doing well for herself. "We have two more with us in the city who know Vale had a sister, and that we're here visiting, but they don't know your name or where you live. They're risking their lives, they deserve to at least know where we're getting our information."
With a slow nod, Brigette accepted this and settled across the table from Turner and Nora. "Well. I did know she left on that ship. Elina... she sometimes joined up with Middleton, but they kept their involvement quiet. It wasn't exactly a big secret, but few knew. I think she was friends with Middleton's wife."
Not the greatest confidence, Turner noted, but he was starting to see that Brigette may not know anything about the real reasons for Middleton's roaming. He nodded, frowned, and asked, "So when the Scarlet Savior didn't come back, you already knew she was likely dead."
"Mmm..." Brigette quieted for a moment, then shook her head. "I suspected, but she sometimes left with him, but came back on her own. After she'd been gone for a year, that's when I gave up hope. It is odd they never found the wreckage, though. The northern coastline is reasonably well-traveled. They must have turned aside and went somewhere else, but she didn't say-"
Brigette sat up, "Oh, yes, before we continue, I should fetch what I have for you." She rose and checked the battered iron kettle, and once satisfied that it was heating properly, she vanished into the nearby doorway, thumping up to the third floor.
"Another dead end," Nora sighed, after Brigette had left. She sat back and rubbed her temples.
Turner shook his head, "Maybe. At least we confirmed Vale was on the ship, but if she knows nothing else... hopefully whatever Vale left behind for me is useful."
Nora made a noncommittal sigh, then folded her hands together on the table. "Just promise me that if we don't find anything here, we won't try to trace the flight path or something equally impossible."
That got a small shake of Turner's head again. "I can't promise that... because Byron might pay for us to do just that. But I don't think it would be helpful. The trail is ten years old, completely cold by now. Unless we can find some other kind of clue, we'd be leaving it to complete chance."
She nodded, but Nora quiet down when she heard the footsteps coming down the stairs. That hadn't taken long at all. Turner raised an eyebrow, tilting his head at Brigette as the older woman emerged from the door, carrying a bundle of cloth wrapped around something.
"I thought that would take longer, but we have been reorganizing a little bit, and it was right there on the shelf next to the copy," she explained, sliding the bundle across the table. The kettle had started to hiss and rattle faintly, so Brigette turned to tend to the soon to be whistling container.
Turner lifted the bundle, immediately able to feel the firmer edges of something boxy within. He gingerly tugged the twine holding it closed. "Copy?"
Brigette set out some cups, along with a pot for the tea. The sharper, herbal yet bitter scent of the tea leaves wafted over the table, as the kettle began to emit the faint whine. It must have been quite warm already, for the water to be boiling this quickly, Turner reflected.
"It's a book, of course," the housewife answered. She grasped the kettle and poured the steaming water into the pot while she spoke. "I'm not selling a copy, not yet at least, but eventually if I feel she'd be all right with it... I mostly made one to give me something to do, and read her words. It was... soothing."
Nora smiled, and Turner nodded quietly. Brigette and Elina never saw eye to eye, he knew, but that didn't mean she disliked her sister. Here in the frontier, especially before the rail had reached, kinship was sacred.
The cloth fell away, revealing the large, bound book. A firm wooden cover wrapped in leather, with embossed uncial text flowing across the front: Journeys and Encounters. In miniscule, beneath, followed the lettering Elina Vale.
"Her itinerary," Turner breathed. "I thought this would be with her journals?"
Brigette shook her head, "No, her journals were at her home... well, all but the one she took with her, obviously. I did compare the two when I could... the differences are interesting. Maybe you can make sense of it. Turn to the ah... April 17th, 2038 entry."
Obediently, Turner opened the book. A yellowed envelope drifted out, sliding onto the table. His name on the envelope... a message for him? Brigette pushed it back over toward him. "That is yours. I haven't read it, I had my own. But look up the entry," she urged.
He turned his eyes down again, flipping through the thick, durable cream-colored pages. Elegant script confronted him, written with care and precision, detailing the early journeys of his old mentor... before he had even been born. He found the entry and frowned, reading it aloud.
"April 17th, 2038 - E 1. Found signs of shop in town, closed down. Remaining merchandise killed two before dismantling. Eckle Hill. Four days behind."
Turner looked up sharply. "Shop? Does she mention that often?"
"Sometimes," Brigette nodded, pouring the tea. The aroma hit his nose as the cup of dark liquid slid over to rest at his side. Brigette continued in a soft voice, "The rest is what you would expect. Well-detailed but prose-heavy descriptions of travel, bandits, even strange creatures in the wildlands."
She sat back after passing Nora's cup over to her. "Yet every once in a while, an entry like that. Lacking details and just a brief note, almost like it was her original shorthand to herself. I've checked those dates in her journals and they don't even exist. And they're all numbered... E, then a number."
Nora finally broke in, seeing a chance to speak. "I'm sorry, but is this her journal or not? Her memoirs?"
"Something like that," Turner mumbled. He flipped further through the book. "It's her itinerary. Vale was meticulous in record-keeping. She'd note weather, time marched, everything. She kept these notes in small travel journals, but she'd run out of space frequently and need a new one."
He tapped the pages of the book. "When she had time at her home, she'd take her journals and condense them, cutting out the details that weren't necessary and only writing what happened in a more clear and concise manner. Sometimes she'd only fill a page or two of this with the notes from a fifty or hundred page journal. I saw it a few times during the months I was at her house, before she took me back to the orphanage."
Nora nodded, "And it mentioned a shop... I think that's obvious." Then she grimaced and turned to Brigette with an apologetic sigh. "The entry is kind of nonsense, but I think we know something about it. But if Vale wanted you to know, she'd be clearer."
Turner grunted, "Yeah..." He took a careful sip of the piping hot tea, almost burning his tongue. The bitter but pleasant drink tickled down his throat, helped him think. "We think Vale was involved in something dangerous that she had to keep secret. Maybe these entries are for us, maybe not."
"You think she wanted to keep it a secret from me?" Brigette asked, surprised. "Was it that dangerous? Do you know what it is?"
A slow head shake answered her, and Turner sighed, "Not everything. But yes... it's very dangerous. Still is, I will point out. That's why we're being careful not to let anyone else know about your link to Vale, at least until we know more."
He set his tea down and reached for the envelope. The wax seal was already cracked in places with age, but it didn't appear to have been broken all the way. Turner slid a finger under the flap and popped the ancient letter open at last. "I doubt she'd have put anything too dangerous in here, in case one of your kids got curious. I'll share anything useful."
Brigette smiled, "Thank you." Her smile was thin, and didn't reach her eyes. Whether it was due to worry or anger at being left in the dark - or perhaps both - Turner couldn't tell.
A quick scan of the contents of the letter, and Turner nodded, "I'll just read it aloud for you both. It's the least I can do to thank you for holding on to it for me for this long."
My Feisty Rowan,
If you are reading this, then my latest venture into the wildlands has been fatal. I have instructed my sister to give this to you after your sixteenth birthday, should you ever come to see her. It is my hope you do this as a traveling merchant or scholar, but should you have followed in my footsteps into a world of adventure, I hope that you keep yourself safe.
It pains me that I could not do more for you. While you are far from the only child I saved, you were the most inquisitive. If you read these words merely seeking closure, I hope that my words and my journal bring you comfort and some fond memories.
If you read these words after choosing to become a wanderer, a freelancer like myself, then please use the journal accompanying this letter to advise your own travels, so you may avoid some of the mistakes I have made, or be aware of dangers and safe havens throughout the frontier.
If you read these words seeking to find what became of me, then do not attempt to follow. I write this as I embark upon a task of great danger, as I sometimes must, but it is best if you remain uninvolved. The tangled web of this danger goes back far, before your birth or mine, and it is best to stay in your own world than enter mine. Adventure and explore if you must, but do not follow me.
Finally, I fear you may already be too deeply involved. If you know that you are part of my great hunt already, then I have given you all the tools you need to take up my mantle and, with luck and skill, finish my task. You, of all people, know how to use this book, for you watched me many a night putting pen to paper, in the very tome I have given you. Yet know that the answers you seek, the information that can doom or save you, does not lay in the pages of this journal.
With Deepest Regrets,
Lady Elina Vale
Turner looked up from his reading, then shook his head. "That's all."
Brigette sighed, but she smiled sadly. "Well, that's my curiosity about the letter settled at least." She was silent for several long moments, and Nora offered her a pat on the arm.
That shook the housewife out of her thoughts. "Ah, but this is all ancient history. We have some time before the children return. Please, tell me about your lives of late! We have twelve years of catching up to do!"
With a smile, Turner lifted the tea to his lips again. "So we do."
The journal could wait.
