The Obsidian Dagger (Horatio Lyle) Read Free Page B

your heath for scientific things and . . .’ She saw Lincoln’s expression. Her voice trailed off. She ate a nut as a distraction, and gave another to the dog, as if she’d never spoken.
    There was no hint of that hunger now in Lincoln’s eyes, as the ice settled, suggesting it had never left. ‘Mister Lyle. A word, if I may.’
    Lyle followed him dutifully outside. Not even the two body-guards followed, as Lincoln led him into a little grove of dead trees. Lyle was feeling, for the first time, the intense cold of the whitewashed morning.
    ‘Mister Lyle, can you surmise why I’m here?’
    An expression of consideration, slightly larger than life, settled on Lyle’s face. ‘Yes?’ he hazarded.
    ‘And are you prepared to renew your services to the Crown?’
    Horatio Lyle thought about it. ‘Do people still get executed at the royal behest?’
    A very tight smile that was an answer in itself. ‘Last night in the docks the captain of the Pegasus , Captain Fabrio, and one of my own employees, Mr Stanlaw, were killed and the Pegasus was holed and is taking on water. She is in quays and the water is nearly frozen, so she does not sink all the way. But her lower decks are flooded.’
    ‘I can’t afford to take time out from my experiments at the present moment -’
    ‘I see,’ said Lincoln, ‘that you persist in having those . . . children . . . assist you. You care for the thief who on one occasion tried to break into your own home, and the young lordling who once nearly killed you. There is much confusion as to why you permit their presence. Is it truly because she can crack any safe in London and he is the next Faraday of his age? Or are you merely a bastion of care and charity?’
    Lyle said nothing.
    Lincoln smiled. It was always a surprise to Lyle, whenever Lord Lincoln revealed any teeth, that none of them were fanged. ‘You are obviously aware of the great benefits in working for me again. The prestige, for one. But naturally a man of your reputation needs a better reason to act, and here is one - there is a murderer on the loose, Mister Lyle. A killer who strikes people down in the dark and doesn’t care who they are or what sins they’ve committed. A killer who is a threat to us all, even the children.’
    Lyle didn’t move. Lincoln’s smile widened ever so slightly, though humour had never entered it. ‘Kindly inform me when you’ve found him, Mister Lyle.’
    And Lord Lincoln nodded once, with the same command as the starting gun at a race, turned, and strode away.
    Lyle stared after him, and wondered exactly what property of Lincoln’s shoes let him glide easily across the snow, where mere mortals would have sunk. Perhaps the snow itself knew better than to cross this aide to Her Majesty?
    Somewhere, the bells of London started tolling the hour, each in their own, very private world that couldn’t agree quite with that of any other clock and argued that ‘seconds’ were just such an arbitrary imposition on time.
    Lyle reached a sudden conclusion. His eyebrows drew together and his lips curled into a scowl. ‘Damn,’ he muttered. ‘Damn damn damn.’
    The boy and girl appeared, with the dog in tow, drawn by this mysterious utterance from the trees. The boy, practically saluting, said, ‘Sir, I trust that Lord Lincoln is in tolerably good hea—’
    ‘The evil bigwig what does all the evil murderin’ and schemin’ gone away, ’as he?’
    ‘Yes, Teresa, he’s gone.’
    ‘He ain’t a good person, Mister Lyle.’
    ‘No. I don’t think he is.’
    ‘Sir! He is the Queen’s personal aide, a servant of the Crown and the Empire . . .’ began the boy.
    Tess rolled her eyes. Lyle gave the boy a wry, sideways glance and said, ‘Exactly.’ He let out a long sigh, looked once more into the distance as if trying to see all the way to the sea, miles to the south, clapped his hands together to bring himself back to the world and said, ‘Right! Get your coats!’
    ‘Where we goin’?’