Free The Clockwork Dagger by Beth Cato Page A

bedding and carpet?”
    â€œI will tend to it. You see a bit of everything on these ships.” Mr. Garret stood and unsnapped the canvas from the support poles around the bunk.
    â€œTruly? You see that many attempted murders and medicians failing in their attempts to travel incognito?”
    â€œI referred more to unusual stains and matters of laundry. As for your efforts to travel incognito, I can assure you, your presence has created an unusual fuss on board ship. You are the focus of gossip right now.”
    She harrumphed beneath her breath. “I might find that flattering if my friend hadn’t nearly died.” Tears flooded her eyes. “This is . . . we can’t keep this a secret, not because of me. There’s still a murderer on board.”
    Mr. Garret folded the tenting and set it on the floor. He began to lift the sodden mattress and Octavia shook her head. “Wait a moment,” she said. “This won’t dry it to the center, but it will help.” She unholstered her parasol and held the stick over the blood. Immediately the outer layer began to pale, the desiccated blood falling away in thick flakes like curling candle wax. His eyes widened.
    â€œI never guessed that your medician wand was hidden there.”
    â€œGood. I might keep some secrets from you yet.”
    â€œAs to the killer aboard . . .” Mr. Garret sobered. “Captain Hue is a good sort, really, but he has absolute faith in the Caskentian government. He would moor us at the nearest tower and turn the investigation over to local militia.”
    Octavia slumped over, one hand to her forehead. “Oh dear. All our suspects are wealthy. They would buy off the local officials and be on their merry way within minutes.”
    â€œYou are sadly astute in the workings of the modern world.”
    â€œYou haven’t seen how Caskentia has treated the academy. If not for the working farm, all of the girls would starve. The cattle and the spring tulips bring in more than our healing has in years.” She shut her mouth with a click of her teeth. Miss Percival would swat her backside if she heard Octavia babble about privy details like that.
    Mr. Garret nodded as he balled up the mattress and linens. “I will take these downstairs and return.”
    â€œI’ll clean up Mrs. Stout while you’re away, but . . .” Memory made her bite her lower lip. “Whoever did this had a key. The door was locked when we arrived.”
    He looked at the door, frowning. “Perhaps they stole her key, or a master. I will be very, very fast.”
    â€œYou can’t guard me night and day, Mr. Garret. I can take care of myself.” She motioned to the capsicum flute hidden at her torso, rather proud of how she hid the tremble of her hand.
    â€œI will do my utmost to keep you alive.” Mr. Garret’s icy blue eyes appraised her for a moment and then he was gone.
    Odd. I’m usually the one who fights to keep people alive.
    Octavia locked the door; at the very least, it would slow down an intruder. She dug into the closet and pulled out Mrs. Stout’s case. The flap was unzipped with clothing dangling out. She froze. Mrs. Stout wasn’t the sort to leave her luggage in that state.
    The underclothes and dresses were a tangle, but she managed to find a spare nightdress and bloomers and set them aside. She reached for her own bag and found it in similar condition. Everything was unfolded and ransacked, though nothing appeared to be missing. Was this a robbery, or made to look like one? Maybe the murderer had been so confident he had the right bunk, he hadn’t bothered to check. A few quick stabs in the dark and the deed was done.
    Mrs. Stout remained asleep within the circle. Octavia tapped the copper threads. The warmth of magic thrummed against her fingers. “Lady, release thy burden on gravity and grant me time to cleanse thy charge,” she whispered,