“Dag!” she muttered, rushing back to where the big man lay. She knelt by him, touched his face. To her great relief he stirred, moaning, his hands pressed against his belly.
“Emily?” he said. “Emily … are you …”
“We’re safe,” Emily breathed, looking over at where Stanton was crouched beside Caul’s crazily spasming form. Stanton had put a hand on each side of Caul’s head and was muttering something in Latin.
Tears streamed down Caul’s cheeks as he struggled ineffectually against Stanton’s grip. “I won’t f-f-forget forever!” He stumbled over the words as if his tongue were being jerked from his mouth. “I won’t forget you or h-h-her either … I will f-f-find you …”
Teeth clenched, Stanton terminated the magical recitation with three loudly barked commands: “Lacuna! Caesura! Oblivio!”
He jerked his hands away from Caul’s face. Caul slumped back, abruptly silent, his head lolling. Stanton reached down, taking the alembic from Caul’s clasped hand. He stood, staring into the distance for a moment, as if he’d forgotten where he was.
“Is he dead?” Dag looked up at the Warlock with new respect. “Did you kill him?”
Stanton didn’t answer, but threw the sangrimancer’s alembic to the ground, crushing it under the heel of his boot. The glass shattered with a pop and hiss.
“I didn’t kill him,” Stanton said. “I’m not a murderer.”
“Then what did you do to him?” Emily rose, putting a hand on Stanton’s shoulder to steady herself.
“Put him to sleep, made him forget. Forget us …” Stanton’s green eyes were strangely unfocused. “Forget everything. He’ll wake up in a few days, but …” Stanton did not complete the sentence. Instead he stared off into the darkness, his eyes fixed and unseeing. Emily gave him a shake.
“Mr. Stanton?” she said. “Are you all right?”
“All right?” Stanton slurred the words like a drunkard. “No, I’m not, I’m fine …” Then he stopped speaking entirely.
The train was coming up the tracks, the beam of its headlamp a brilliant knife slicing the darkness. Emily found that she was no longer leaning on Stanton for support; rather, he was leaning on her. His eyes were sliding closed and then opening abruptly, as if he were trying to keep himself from falling asleep.
“Your train’s here.” Dag climbed to his feet slowly, straightening with a wince. “Let’s get you both on it.”
Emily looked at Dag, as if seeing him for the first time.
“Dag …” she whispered.
“I understand now, Emily,” he said.
The huge black train pulled to a stop with a vast rushing of steam and a piercing squeal of hot brakes. Dag threaded an arm under Stanton’s, shifting the weight of the Warlock from Emily’s shoulders to his own. Stanton’s eyes fluttered briefly; he looked up at Dag and mumbled, “Yes, I’d like coffee with the eggs, thank you …”
“Is he going to be all right?” Dag asked Emily as he dragged Stanton toward the passenger car. There was a loud hiss from the front of the train as the fire tenders jerked down the water pipe and sent cold mountain water gushing into the engine’s tanks.
“I don’t know,” Emily said as they approached the closed door of the passenger car. The conductor leaned out the window, his face registering slight alarm. Emily could see her little group reflected in the man’s eyes—three shabby men, torn and bloodstained, drunk, probably.
“Two for New York,” Emily blurted, digging into Stanton’s pocket for the purse of money Dag had brought. “The cheapest you got.”
Emily dearly hoped the conductor couldn’t see Caul’s motionless form lying a few feet off. Apparently he couldn’t, for while he hesitated a long moment, he finally took her money, tore off two tickets, and punched them slowly.
“I’ll help you get him on,” Dag muttered, and he lifted Stanton up the step into the car. With a bit of wrangling, he managed to get the lanky Warlock into one of the wooden bench seats.
The train whistle gave a curt blast; the conductor gestured impatiently to Dag.
“We’re going!” he snapped. “Buy a ticket or get off!”
Dag turned to climb off the train. Emily stopped him in the vestibule, the little space between the cars.
“What about Caul? He’ll wake up eventually, Mr. Stanton said—”
“I’ll drag him way up one of the old timber roads. Easy to get lost up there, right?”
“And you’ll watch out for Pap?” she said. The train gave another whistle; the conductor gave an impatient growl.
“We’re goin’, mister!”
“I’ll see that he’s safe,” Dag said, ignoring the conductor.