Free The Steampunk Trilogy by Paul di Filippo

nothing. How grand. . . . He had been right not to fear. . . . Paradise, hello!
    Cowperthwait opened his eyes.
    Chuting-Payne lay dead on the turf, the back of head blown off in a gory mess.
    It dawned slowly on Cowperthwait what must have happened. “McGroaty! Goddamn you, McGroaty, you promised! That was hardly sportsmanlike!”
    Out from the trees stepped a figure.
    It was Viscount Melbourne. The Prime Minister clutched a smoking pistol.
    “William—I don’t—How? Why?”
    The dapper nobleman calmly removed the spent cartridge from his gun and substituted a fresh one. “I could hardly let Chuting-Payne continue to live now, Cosmo, could I? After what he just said about his plans to embroil Victoria in a hideous scandal. Not after all the work the two of us have put into keeping her name unsoiled. And besides, I rather like you, and owed you a favor. I consider that debt discharged.”
    “But I thought you said you didn’t believe in assassination.”
    “That was of women, boy. Entirely different set of rules for the other sex. No, I fear Chuting-Payne’s treasonous intentions earned him his death. And besides, without heirs his estate devolves to the throne. I’ve had my eye on it for years.”
    A thought occurred suddenly to Cowperthwait. “The Queen! He knew where she was! Now the knowledge is gone with him.”
    Melbourne seemed queerly unconcerned. “Yes, rum bit of luck, that. But I could hardly wait any longer to bag him.”
    A sudden malaise swept over the young scientist, leaving him disinclined to press the matter further. All he wished now was to be home in bed. Thoughts of those welcoming counterpanes brought up an associated matter, which he now put to the Viscount.
    “My creation—it’s been so long since I’ve had any news from you. Is she flourishing? Does she ever seem to—to pine for her old surroundings?”
    Melbourne sought to brush the matter aside. “She does well. Her needs are simple, and easily fulfilled. Most of them, at any rate . . . if you know what I mean, eh?”
    Cosmo opened his mouth to adjure the Minister not to overtax the chimeric creature, but Melbourne cut him off.
    “Well, you’d best be heading home. Oh, don’t worry—there’ll be no legal repercussions. The Crown will handle matters.”
    From out of the woods there appeared McGroaty, accompanied by Gunputty. Melbourne raised his pistol, anticipating deadly action from the servant on behalf of his wronged master. Cowperthwait too fully expected that the loyal Indian servant would attempt to revenge his master’s death.
    But instead, the Indian merely beamed a bright smile their way! Picking McGroaty up like a child, he trotted eagerly toward them.
    “Nails, what—?”
    “Everything’s jake, Coz. I just finished explainin’ something mighty beneficial to ol’ Ganpat here. That’s his real name, by the way, after some heathen god or other. I managed to instill some demmy-cratic ideals in him, made him see that iffen his master was to die, he’d be a free man, able to make his fortune with his good looks and exotic ways. We’re plannin’ to get him a job with P. T. Barnum, who’s blowin’ in through town soon. He does a mean snake-charmin’ act.”
    Cowperthwait sighed. A regrettable lack of remorse all around here.
    But life must go on, he supposed.
    Mustn’t it?

7
    WHAT EVERYONE ELSE KNEW
    C OWPERTHWAIT SLEPT FOR a day and a half. His dreams, if any, were painless, and vanished upon waking. Standing over him was McGroaty, bearing a tray heaped high with lavishly buttered scones, a decanter of tea, and a lidded crystal pot full of fresh strawberry jam.
    “I thought you might need some vittles by now, Coz.”
    Cowperthwait sat up in bed, plumping the pillows behind himself. “Quite right, Nails. Time to fortify the body before attempting to tackle the problems of the mind that yet beset us.”
    “I couldn’t’a phrased it no better myself.”
    Cowperthwait dug hungrily into the repast.