Read Online The Crimson Skew by S. E. Grove - Free Book Online

Lick.”
    â€œOne of my depots is in Salt Lick,” Maxine replied, “so that would work quite well. Would you like to see the pigeons?” she asked Sophia.
    Sophia pushed her empty plate to one side. “Very much. I had heard pigeons could carry messages, but I have never seen any who do.”
    â€œYou may be disappointed,” Maxine said with a smile. “They look just like ordinary pigeons. But their feats of stamina are quite extraordinary. And they are remarkable in another way, too. These are iron pigeons.”
    â€œPigeons made of iron? How do they fly?” Sophia wondered.
    Maxine rose from the table. “Pigeons with the Mark of Iron.”
    â€œOh!” Sophia exclaimed.
    â€œCome with me to the dovecote, and we’ll dispatch your message to Shadrack right away.”
    â€œCould I come as well?” Goldenrod asked.
    Seneca shifted on Errol’s shoulder, dancing from one clawed foot to the other. “Oh, no, my friend,” Errol said to him firmly. “You and I are staying here.”
    Maxine led them toward the kitchen—a long room with several worktables and multiple ovens, where the cook and two assistants were toiling in the aftermath of the afternoon pastry production—and then out into a second garden patio. Beneath the heavy yellow clouds, insects buzzed in slow circles while a hummingbird dipped and darted. Herbs grew in dense clusters at the edges of the garden: lavender and thyme, sage and mint.
    A stone walkway wove through the herbs to an ornate iron stair. The narrow grillwork steps led to a low-ceilinged room, musty and close with the murmuring of pigeons. A long window with no glass or screen looked out onto the patio and, beyond it, the city of New Orleans. The pigeons were free to fly in and out. Nestled in narrow wooden shelves lined with straw, they fluttered and shifted, eyeing Maxine and the visitors dispassionately.
    â€œHere we are,” she said, “with the most well-traveled pigeons in the western world.”
    Goldenrod knelt by one of the shelves and extended her pale-green fingers toward the pigeons who warbled happily, inching toward her.
    â€œI see you have a way with them,” Maxine said approvingly.
    Goldenrod beamed up at her. “They seem very happy here.”
    Sophia noted Maxine’s startled reaction with a smile. Calixta and Burr were so flamboyant, so extravagantly beautiful, that they filled the room and dazzled onlookers wherever they were. Beside them, Errol and Goldenrod seemed like dusty little sparrows in the company of peacocks. But the two had a radiance of their own, and Maxine was seeing it now.
    â€œI hope they are,” she replied. “We try to take good care of them.” She opened a cupboard in the wall and took out a slip of paper, a pen, and a small piece of Goodyear rubber. “What shall we say to your uncle, then, Sophia?”
    â€œHow many words do we have?”
    â€œTell me your message, and I’ll abbreviate.”
    â€œLet him know that I’m safe with Calixta and Burr and here in New Orleans. We are heading north to Salt Lick and hope to be there . . .” She looked questioningly at Goldenrod.
    â€œThe train would be fastest. But Calixta and Burr might be recognized. We shall have to see. Two days would be the soonest. Ten days at the latest, if we cannot take the train.”
    â€œI have already thought of a solution for Calixta and Burr,” Maxine said, looking pleased with herself, “so do not worry on that account. I will let him know the time frame.” She wrote quickly on the slip of paper, rolled it expertly within the rubber, and wound a string tightly around the bundle. “Now,” she said, turning to the pigeons. “Where is Marcel? He is my most reliable courier, and he will brave his way through this horrid air we’ve had of late.” She petted the pigeons gently with the tips of her fingers, pushing