Free The Rising (The Alchemy Wars) by Ian Tregillis

any longer. Not on this run,” she said.
    In the Central Provinces, and most of the empire for that matter, postal mail was delivered quite literally on the backs of Clakkers. Apparently mechanicals were still too expensive in the New World to use them to distribute packages and parcels between far-flung outposts. Which caused her to wonder…
    After briefly closing the flap while one of the horses defecated, she asked the driver, “What’s your route?”
    “Mostly back and forth up the river. The run between Fort Orange and the city, a few stops between.” He spat another gob of phlegm into the frigid night.
    The onrush of cold air hurt her throat and nose. She wanted never to feel cold again. She asked, “There’s a house north of where you picked me up. Have you ever stopped there?”
    “The Guild house? Of course,” he said. “Only when there’s a package to deliver, though.”
    Oh, you poor bastard
, thought Berenice.
I’m so sorry. When they figure out where I went, they’re going to question you.
    “How do you know it’s one of our properties?”
    There might have been the slightest beat, just a sliver of hesitation, before Cortland said, “Lady, no offense, but I ain’t blind. It’s the only place outside a city I ever seen one of them Stemwinders, much less two in one place. Hell, with a couple of them ticktock horses I could do this run in a fraction of the time!” His laughter was a bit forced. “I figure they run like demons.”
    They
are
demons
, she thought,
and they do
. In her mind’s ear the susurration of the carriage wheels over hard-packed snow became a faint clockwork gallop, swiftly growing closer in the darkness…
    Hold on a moment. Why does Cortland bother with horses at all when he has a servitor under lease? Sparks could pull this carriage just as well, which would save Cortland no end of hassle and money.
And then she realized:
Sparks doesn’t belong to him. This isn’t a regular mail carriage. Sparks is here to guard whatever comes and goes from the safe house.
    Just then the driver said, “Come to mention it, I have to admit I was sorta surprised you weren’t headed that way. Seems like that would’ve been your best bet for help as you didn’t know me and Sparks was on the way.”
    The warmth and comfort left her. Even the lightheadedness from the brandy seemed to disappear.
    “There was an accident,” she said. “There’s no help to be had at the house.” It was true enough.
    “Bet it was the Goddamned Frenchies, wasn’t it?” He spat again. “Sons of bitches, all of them.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    “Lady, begging your pardon, but how long have you been out here? By now you must’ve heard about what they did down in the city.”
    Oh. That
, she thought. “Oh. That,” she said.
    “Yeah. They’re fixing for a fight they can’t win. Ain’t that right, Sparks?”
    If the servitor responded, Berenice couldn’t hear it. She’d have to deal with Sparks, too, she realized.
    Shivering, she closed the flap. The rush of cold air had blown away the snug coziness of the compartment. She wrapped the driver’s blanket around her shoulders and took the warming stone in her lap. Her eyes closed, but still sleep eluded her.
    Bell’s pendant could open many doors for her, assuming Berenice didn’t overstep herself. At the same time, though, she was soon to be the most wanted woman in the New World. No pendant, no Clockmaker shibboleth, no amount ofsubterfuge, could protect her if she continued to lurk around New Amsterdam. She held the rosy cross at arm’s length, watching its long chain sway against the rocking of the carriage. Lamplight glinted from rose quartz. The Rosenkreuz. The
rosa crucis
. She’d seen it a thousand times. Its ubiquity within the empire granted it a strange invisibility. It even adorned the arms of the empire and the Brasswork Throne, and it could be found anywhere the Guild wanted to stake its claim. The emblem even granted, to those