Free The Last Four Things by Paul Hoffman

edge of death followed by eternal hell where devils every day will disembowel them with a spade or swallow them alive and shit them out for all eternity. Save them from a fate like that – those are the hoops of steel that’ll bind them to me.’
    â€˜These are deviants. The very boilings of moth and rust.’
    â€˜If they don’t come up to snuff, I’ll return them for execution. These are trained men abandoned by everyone. At least give me their tallies.’ Cale smiled, the first time in a long time. ‘I don’t even believe you disagree.’
    â€˜Very well. We’ll both read the tallies. Then we’ll see.’
    â€˜Tell me about Guido Hooke.’
    There was a knock at the door which opened immediately followed by a Redeemer who nodded obsequiously toBosco and dumped a large file in a box, marked ‘INTRO’. He nodded again and left.
    â€˜Hooke,’ said Bosco, ‘is a nuisance to me and of no real concern to you.’
    â€˜I want to know about him.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜A hunch. Besides, I thought I was to know everything.’
    â€˜Everything? You see that file Notil just bought in. That’s just a day’s paperwork – a slack day. Stick to what you’re good at.’
    â€˜Tell me.’
    â€˜Very well. Hooke is a know-all who thinks he can understand the world by the book of arithmetic. He is a great inventor of engines. He is brilliant in the way of the best of such people but he has struck his gonk once too often into things that he had much better not have done. I’ve left him alone because I admire his mind, and for ten years. But his declarations about the moon contradicted the Pope, I warned him to leave and suggested the Hanse might be willing to employ him. While I was in Memphis he went to Fray Bentos to take ship but was caught by Gant’s men in a hoteli waiting to embark.’
    â€˜Why didn’t they take him to Stuttgart?’
    â€˜Because in Stuttgart he wouldn’t be my responsibility. Now I must either make an Act of Faith of him or be seen to defy the ruling of the Pope.’
    â€˜But you said the Pope was wrong.’
    â€˜You are being deliberately slow.’
    â€˜What kind of engines?’
    â€˜Blasphemous engines.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜A machine for flying – if God had meant us to fly hewould have given us wings. A wagon cased in iron – if God had meant us to have armour we would have been born with scales. And for all I know, or care, a machine for extracting sunlight from cucumbers. Most of the drawings he’s made are fantasies. His idea for a hopiocopter that flies is twaddle. It doesn’t look as if it could move along the ground, let alone fly through the air. But I have made use of his water gate in the east canal.’
    â€˜If God had intended there to be water gates wouldn’t he have made water flow upwards?’ Bosco would not rise to the bait.
    â€˜If you want to know about him read his tally. He’s a dead man, whether you do or don’t.’
    Kleist had been forced to hang around until the next day before Lord Dunbar and his men left and he could collect the knife he’d dropped in the bramble bush. He thought carefully about what to do next. He was not interested in revenge, not being the indulgent type – it was dangerous and Kleist did not believe in risk. On the other hand he was in the middle of some bumhole wilderness with no horse, no chattels, no money and few clothes. All in all he decided he had to follow them but he wondered repeatedly over the next three days if he hadn’t made a mistake. He was cold and hungry. He was used to that, but though the surroundings were green enough he came across no standing water. Weakness from lack of water could take you quickly and once he lost touch with Dunbar he was finished. He had one break: he found some bamboo – spindly but good enough. Probably. He cut