The Devil's Pay (Dogs of War)

Clockwork figures were everywhere, but without the telltale steam exhaust produced by mechanical workmanship. The strange light emanating from their helms, and various other apertures, gave away their inhuman natures.

Those guarding the outer streets of the town bore heavy maces and shields, similarly illuminated by the strange energies common to the warjacks and “angels” the Dogs had defeated. The shields were especially curious, their crescent design suggesting some unknown purpose. Behind these defenders stood ranks of halberdiers, their figures no less feminine for their steely construction.

Other clockwork figures – men this time – patrolled the inner regions of the town of Calbeck. They carried no separate weapons, but marched with raised fists, one enhanced with a heavy punching blade, the other bristling with gun barrels. At the intersections of the larger streets, smaller three-legged and larger four-legged warjacks stood watch.

A new building towered far above it all, stretching out four vast, arched legs to touch the town’s four corners. Far larger than the recharging station, it was a rising tower of brass, steel, glass, suffused with the eerie blue-white light that powered all their machines. Four petals yawned open around a huge gray orb atop the structure. The tower’s elegant lines spoke as much of art as they did to efficiency, pointing to the sky like the cathedral of an alien god.

As Sebastian Nemo watched, the flying warcaster and her clockwork angels arrived to alight atop the unfinished tower. The warcaster turned to look back toward the Ordic bank. Her eyes turned directly toward the hill on which Sam and Nemo stood.

The Artificer General lowered the spyglass. “What have you brought me, Sam?”

“Some of the boys were worried you’d sent us on a gobber hunt.”

Nemo shot her a hard look, but his expression softened. “Well, I certainly didn’t think you’d bring me a dragon! But you, Captain Samantha MacHorne, you have brought me right to the dragon’s lair.”

“With that in mind, and considering the difficulty we faced, I’d be remiss in my duty to the boys, and the men, if I didn’t suggest an additional bonus is in order.”

With a glance across the river at occupied Calbeck, Nemo nodded slowly. “I’ll revise your letter of credit accordingly.”

“You want us to give you an escort back anywhere?”

“No,” said Nemo. “I’ll send a messenger to bring the rest of my forces here. I don’t know what this new enemy across the river intends to do there, but you can bet that I will find out.”



Dawson counted the coins before signing two copies of the receipt. The bank clerk countersigned them both and pushed one back along with a calfskin purse. “Courtesy of the establishment, Private Dawson. Always a pleasure to do business with the Devil Dogs.”

“At least when we’re flush from a new contract, right?”

“I assure you, Sir—”

Dawson tipped him a wink. “I’m kidding. When will she start receiving the money?”

“The next courier reaches Carre Dova in two days. Young Isla should receive the payment the day after.”

“And the medallion?”

“Yes, Private, and the medallion. The delivery receipt should come back in a week or so.” The clerk bobbed his head, eager to ingratiate himself with a new client. Dawson walked away, smiling as he shook his head.

As he left the bank, he saw a familiar trollkin peddling roast chickens that dangled from a stick she held across her big blue shoulders. Dawson beckoned her over and held up a finger. When he saw a legless man navigating the boardwalk by gripping a pair of blocks, he changed his order to two and delivered the second to the beggar.

“Don’t I know you?” said the beggar.

Dawson shrugged and dropped a handful of coins into the man’s pocket. “Buy yourself something to wash it down.”

As Dawson walked way, the beggar called after him. “I like your new jacket, Devil Dog,” he said. “I remember you now.”

Dawson tore off a drumstick and waved goodbye with it.

As he rounded the corner, he almost collided with Bowie, who’d come pelting down the cross-street. “There you are, Dawson! Sam wants all the boys back at the warehouse for first briefing.”

“Oh, come on,” Dawson complained. “I wish she’d pick someone else to fetch the boys this time. I just grabbed dinner.”

“She isn’t sending you,” said Bowie, pushing past to head on toward the Rust Market. “She sent me.”