Fever Crumb 1 - Fever Crumb by Philip Reeve

Author:Philip Reeve [Reeve, Philip]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780545222150
Published: 2011-03-02T00:00:00+00:00

It had not lasted, of course. A love affair between a Londoner and a Scriven? It had not lasted out the month.

But for a while the whole balance of Gideon’s life had shifted. Instead of reason he was guided by the unfathomable feelings that Wavey aroused in him. He neglected his work and sat waiting for her brief, stolen visits. He once or twice considered writing poems. He didn’t know if she loved him as much as he loved her or if he was just a distraction for her. At night sometimes, while the rest of the house slept, he would go quietly out into the gardens, and she would be waiting for him in their summer house. “Godshawk must never know of this,” she said, holding him in her strong, speckled arms.

But Godshawk knew almost everything that went on in his house. He had been suspicious of his daughter’s reasons for choosing Gideon ever since the young Engineer arrived. That new slave girl he had bought her was his spy. One afternoon, in the middle of a hissing storm of cold gray rain, Gideon was called before him.

The great man was waiting for him in the vault beneath the house, a place that Gideon had never visited before. It seemed devoted to the study of Stalkers. Dozens stood or lay about like charmless statues with their heads prized open. In the vats that lined the walls floated dead people — or at least, Gideon hoped they were dead. Severed heads in jars lined a shelf behind Godshawk’s desk, and the glare that the inventor shot at him as he came in made Gideon fear for a moment that his own would shortly join them.

“Do you take me for a fool, Crumb?” the inventor asked.

“No, sir …”

Gideon looked for help. In a corner of the room stood Wavey Godshawk. Her face was stenciled with its familiar markings, that flock of wild geese on her brow and cheeks. He remembered how closely and solemnly she had watched him as they lay together in the summer house amid the shipwreck of her dress. Now she would not even look at him, just stared haughtily at the ceiling.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out about your little romance?” asked Godshawk.

“No, sir,” said Gideon. “I thought …”

“Thought what? That I’d approve? Great Scrivener, women of childbearing age are in short enough supply among my people as it is, without I go marrying one off to you.”

“But —”

“You wretch, Crumb! If I weren’t kinder than most of my breed you’d be dead by now, or on your way to meet the death machines at Pickled Eel Circus! As it is, I want you gone. What, do you think I won’t be able to find another little scribbler like you to aid me in my work? You’re nothing. If you come near Nonesuch House again I’ll set the dogs on you. Now go.”

Gideon looked again at Wavey, but Wavey was still not looking at him. She seemed bored.

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