Page 106 of Confounding Oaths
The not-dryads, to nobody’s surprise but Miss Bickle’s, made no response to her enquiry. Instead they drew closer, until their spindled twig-hands clutched at her bodice and their jaws lolled open to reveal thick, vine-like tongues.
“Could still be a trap,” said Jackson.
To which Sal nodded and pointed into the canopy, where the steel-fingered woman was waiting. “Seems like.”
“But if itisLizzie,” Mr. Caesar replied, whispering less naturally than the others owing to a marked lack of relative practice, “we can’t just leave her.”
Kumar looked apprehensive. “Wecan,” he said. “But I agree it would be a trifle unsporting.”
While this debate was, if not raging, then at least gathering impetus, the steel-fingered woman swooped, and Miss Bickle looked up at once startled and delighted.
“Leave this one,” the steel-fingered woman said. “She interests me.”
The wood-things turned hollow eyes to her and made sounds like dry brush cracking underfoot.
“That is no concern of yours,” the steel-fingered woman replied.
The creatures crackled back, but withdrew despite their objection. I should say, readers, that I am of course fully able to comprehend the speech of the wood-things, but I endeavour to give youthe experience of witnessing these events through limited mortal perspectives, not my own.
Miss Bickle gazed at the steel-fingered woman with a sort of general gratitude that I was certain had no basis in any sense of her own mortality. “Thank you,” she said, “but I am sure they did not mean me harm.”
“They did.”
Never one to let go of her good opinion of terrible things, Miss Bickle brushed the comment off. “I find that very hard to believe.”
“Duly noted.”
“For all I know,” Miss Bickle continued, “youmean me harm.”
“Perhaps I do.” The steel-fingered woman reached out a hand and traced a single knife-edged talon along Miss Bickle’s cheek. “You would do well to treat me as if I do.”
Miss Bickle shuddered. “If you intend to seduce me, you should know that I have firmly established that dallying with ladies is not to my tastes.”
Of all the responses the steel-fingered woman had been expecting, that was none. “You are a peculiar creature.”
“People keep telling me that. I think they just lack imagination.”
The character of the exchange was not absolute proof that Miss Bickle really was herself rather than a shape-shifting imposter, but to Mr. Caesar at least she sounded so familiar that it seemed worth the risk.
And the captain concurred. The Irregulars fanned out into flanking positions and then, once there were at least one or two pistols trained on the newcomer, he approached. “And what do you want with the lady?”
The steel-fingered woman turned her head towards the captain, leaving the rest of her body eerily still. “What do you want in this place?”
“Rescue mission.”
“Noble, but foolish. As for what I want, I have questions.”
While Captain James had the attention of the steel-fingered woman, Mr. Caesar took the opportunity to sidle around towards Miss Bickle. “Lizzie,” he stage-whispered, “walk towards me, slowly.”
It had been a valiant effort, but a doomed one. “And what will that achieve?” asked the steel-fingered woman, her gaze lighthousing around to fall on Mr. Caesar. “Were I any danger to the child, I assure you distance would not ameliorate it.”
“Perhaps not,” agreed Captain James. “But I’ve armed men with me, and a sorcerer amongst them. I fancy we’ve a fairer chance than you think.”
The steel-fingered woman twitched her beaten-copper wings. “Do you now?”
“Perhaps,” ventured Miss Bickle, “I could simply answer her questions?”
“Thatwouldbe simplest all round,” the steel-fingered woman agreed.
