Science, Eternal Life, and a Traveling Circus |1|

Chapter Eighteen

July 31st, 2815

Derrick clutched his tracking piece in both hands, eyes quivering over the red marker that indicated the whereabouts of his precious device. Abraham refused to take his eyes from the man. He'd not allowed himself a wink of sleep, unable to risk his asset escaping. He twitched restlessly, rigid in his booth seat at the corner of the inn.

Derrick sipped coffee and mulled over scrambled eggs and bacon. The officer did his best to ignore his poor company. He contently indulged in his spoils, exaggerating his pleasure with every bite and sip purely to aggravate the starving former captain. He placed the tracker out of Abraham's reach and picked up the newspaper.

Abraham gritted his teeth, folded his arms, and glowered at a spot on the wall opposite him. The smell of fresh breakfast wafted to his nostrils and roiled in his gut. His stomach turned upside down, but at the same time, begged for a taste.

"Ah, look. Five more groups of plague-bearers have been released from the walls this month," remarked Derrick. He turned a page. "Very strategic."

"Strategic?" Abraham choked. "It's barbaric. How many have been released total?"

Derrick swallowed a mouthful of his flat white drink. "Eleven, I think. Eleven known to the public. You were in the second group, two months ago. And you are the only one that's actually been stupid enough to come back."

"Eleven! What in God's name is Lord Pallis thinking? The plague is Ban-Ken's problem. He's playing god. It's madness, and it's wrong, and it is hurting people. What is—?"

"Hush!" Derrick threw down his drink and swept up his tracker: a small black screen that could be strapped around the wrist like a watch. He lowered his voice. "He's moving."

Abraham gulped and leaned over the table to look. He prodded a cloth napkin over a puddle of coffee.

The red marker sat at the corner of the screen in the form of a red arrow. It blinked, and with each blink, moved a millimeter. It changed to a simple dot as it came away from the edge of the screen, indicating that the recording device was within their range. Derrick looked to the staircase. He pointed, and Abraham followed his finger.

"It's with the girl," Abraham whispered. His nodded, and a trace of a smile faintly appeared. "That's good."

"It will be easier to take it off of her. As long as we can get her alone, and preferably outside. Can't just beat up a little girl in public, can we?"

"Beat her up! No, you can't beat her up. When you have a chance , you must take it from her gently."

"Gently," Derrick scoffed. "Steal an apparent silver gear gently. You just stay out of it, math boy."

Abraham frowned and studied the girl. He watched her slide a silver gear over the bar. His heart clenched. "She may have just given it away."

Derrick squinted at the tracker, then back to the girl. She took her change and pattered back to the stairs with a mug of coffee. She started very carefully up and stood still at each step to make sure the coffee was safe in its cup. "No, she still has it."

Abraham deflated in relief, slouching in his seat. He pressed the back of his hand to his brow. "Good... good..."

***

Alyn shouldered the door open and, eyes anxiously trained on the gentle sloshing of the black coffee between her hands, pressed into the room. Save for the hollow tick of the grandfather clock, all was quiet. Hughes rustled his hair with each even, sleeping breath, peacefully curled beneath his blanket. Alyn steadily shuffled to the bedside and set the coffee on the table. She returned to the door to push it shut, and squeezed behind the bed to reach the window. She pulled aside the curtain to squint at the sun, to check its location. Curtains, blinds, and shutters were starting to lift and pull out of shop windows below. Doors propped open. Dust blew through the empty street. A lone miner swung a pickaxe on his way to the outskirts of town.