The Dark Volume by Gordon Dahlquist

Author:Gordon Dahlquist [Dahlquist, Gordon]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: SteamPunk, Fiction, Fantasy, General, Action & Adventure, Adventure Fiction, Magic, Fantasy Fiction, Horror, Thrillers, Suspense, Murder
ISBN: 9780385340366
Publisher: Subterranean
Published: 2008-01-01T13:00:00+00:00

THE BARGE had nothing so formal as a cabin, but there was a wheel and beyond it a depression in the deck where more canvas had been stretched to shield a small stove. Svenson was directed not unkindly to a wooden crate where he might sit. The man in the black cap, the barge-master, placed a clay mug of tea in the Doctor's hands and then left the two gentlemen alone. The man in the coat sat on a crate of his own and deliberately smoothed his side whiskers with both hands.

Svenson gestured vaguely toward the train tracks, by now invisible beyond the trees.

“You may wonder, if you know Macklenburg, at how far you find me from it. The fact is, this morning I was on a train, but it stopped— some difficulty with valves—and I took it upon myself to explore these lovely woods.” Svenson waved his hand vaguely. “North country— mining has always been an interest, as I hail from our own hills, where there are many minerals. And of course the lives of fishermen. You will see from my buttons that I am of the Macklenburg Navy. One cannot keep a sailor too long from the sea! But I really ought to return, as the train must continue soon—I have no timepiece, you see, and would very much hate to miss it.”

“You are Karl-Horst von Maasmärck's Doctor,” said the man.

“Goodness,” Svenson laughed, “you speak as if you had studied the roster of the Prince's whole party!”

“And where is your Prince now?”

“In Macklenburg, of course,” said Svenson. “Where else could he be? Unless you know more than I do.”

The man narrowed his eyes. The Doctor allowed himself to become visibly exasperated.

“If there has been other news, I beg you do not trifle with me—”

He made to rise, hoping more than anything to get a current sense of where the other bargemen stood, but the man in the topcoat pulled him back onto the crate.

“Do not distress yourself,” the man hissed.

“If you will excuse me! My train—”

“Forget your damnable train!” barked the man, but the force of his words was mixed with peevish displeasure, as if he resented the necessity of their entire conversation, and even his own presence on this barge to begin with.

“Will you constrain me?”

“What happened to your head?” the man demanded. “There is blood!”

“There were difficulties with the train, as I told you—a sudden stop, falling luggage—”

“Then perhaps you can tell me instead who made up the traveling party for the Prince's return.”

The man had spoken too easily, as if the question meant nothing. Svenson shrugged, again exaggerating his accent.

“Is that any secret? I am sure your own newspapers—”

“Newspapers are trash.”

“And yet for these simple facts—”

“I insist that you tell me!”

The man balled both hands together in his lap and squeezed his fists. Svenson looked away to give himself time—was the situation so unpleasant already?

“Well… since you make such a demand… let me see… the Prince's intended bride, of course. Who else? Diplomats—your own Deputy Minister Crabbé; his assistant, Mr.

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