Clockwork Looking Glass (Heart of Bronze Book 1)

by Michael Rigg

  I nodded to the Hall guardian. "Mornin', Captain."

  She smiled brightly. "General."

  I clasped my hands behind my back and bounced on my heels. Then, realizing I looked like a nervous fool, I stopped myself and smiled crookedly. "It sure is a lovely day."

  She blinked up at the sun before returning her smile to me. "It certainly is. Hot."

  "You must be lucky to be posted here," I said with a nod to her spotless white uniform.

  "How so?"

  "Well, you don't have to freeze inside and you don't have to broil outside." I raised an eyebrow to her simple comment on the weather. “If it gets too hot you could always go in to cool off.”

  She laughed. Her smile and dimples tugged at me. "Oh no, I can freely move about the Citadel and catch my death of cold with the change in temperature. The difference is likely to make it rain in the foyers." I laughed with her and held my smile. "You are quite charming for a guard captain. And your accent... Northern gal?"

  "Yes sir. From Chicago originally, but don't let my Yankee upbringing color your impression of me. I am a lady of the South at heart."

  "Indeed," I smiled.

  "Indeed."

  "Have you been here long?"

  "About five years or so."

  "Mm."

  She studied me for a time as I tried not to study her. In truth, I couldn't look away. Finally, she said, "General Landry?"

  Snapping out of it, I said, "I'm sorry. There seems to be somethin' familiar about you. Like I'd seen you somewhere before."

  She shrugged. "I would imagine so. I've seen you come and go from here most every other week for the past five years." She tilted her head, “But it's funny.”

  “Funny?”

  “I was going to say the same about you.”

  "Interesting, indeed.” My eyes lingered on her smile. “You said you've seen me come and go? Did you feel the need to spy on me, guard captain?” I said it with a smile and an eyebrow raised in the hopes she would take my words for what they were, simply veiled curiosity about the young woman with a dash of teasing.

  She could barely hide her blush. "It's not hard to miss a dashing Confederate officer."

  I smiled brighter. "And it's not hard to miss a beautiful guard captain... even if she is a northern gal." She laughed again and fanned herself. “Oh, General, please. You flatter me backhandedly.”

  I laughed. “Oh, it wasn't backhanded at all, my dear.” I shot her a wink. “I've never had a problem with northerners. Well, besides that scalawag Bradford Thorne.”

  Her forehead wrinkled at a thought. “Now there's a name that seems as familiar as you. Has this Thorne been to the Hall?”

  I chuckled. “Not likely. Poor deluded Imperial just likes to count his money—what's left of it. I don't think he ever leaves the Center of Trade towers.” The Captain turned from me slightly and stared off into the distance as I told her about Thorne. When next she spoke it was as though from a daydream. “It's odd. I have a vague memory of being in New Yorke, but don't remember any details.”

  “Do you recall when it was?”

  Her chin pushed up her lower lip and she barely shook her head. “It was probably when I was a little girl, or about the time of the war before last. I tend to be a little phased on my memories since I started my post here.” She offered me a look that I read as distant and sad. “To be completely honest with you, General Landry, I don't remember much at all before that.” She nodded toward the Citadel wall behind me. “It was part of my indoctrination here, I think. ADAM and EVE put me through my paces back in the day... All I really know is this place and my duty.”

  “And a noble duty it is, Captain.”

  She met my eyes and bowed her head slightly. “Thank you, sir. That means more than you know.”

  I bristled slightly, longing for her to drop the businesslike pretense while simultaneously kicking myself for not being more of a gentleman. “Oh, please don't call me sir. I'm not stationed here and we're not from the same branch.” I practically winced. Good one, Bryce.

  Her smile was beautiful, bright, and warmed my heart as much as it seemed to bring enough chill to ward off the stifling day. It was a comfortable, familiar beauty I couldn't quite place. “All right, General. Would you be terribly offended if I called you Bryce despite our differences in station?”

  “Offended? I'd be honored.” I opened my uniform coat and reached into the pocket inside to withdraw my kerchief. I dabbed my brow, and offered the Captain a smirk as I glanced to the sun. “I suppose I'd been inside where it's cool a trifle too long.”

  “If I didn't know better, I'd swear it was more likely you were hiding a blush.”

  “Blush?” I puffed out my chest and raised an eyebrow, still dabbing to hide the sudden rush of heat to my face. “Officers don't blush, madam.”

  “Mm.” That was it. Her sudden smile was so bright, her perfect teeth so heartbreaking, my jaw and kerchief hand both dropped in slow motion. I had to shake my head and glance around at the monuments to memory in order to regain my composure.

  The Captain nodded and changed the subject, perhaps to let me know that my perspiration or embarrassment wasn't a bother to her. She did seem to have more important things on her mind. "It was delightful to meet your sister, Addy. She's quite an effervescent young woman."

  "Effervescent?" I repeated with a chuckle as I returned the kerchief to my inner pocket. "I'd never heard of Adel being called that before." The Captain then gave me a rather Landryesque wink and smiled. “I think your sister likes playing at matchmaker.”

  I looked over my shoulder and noticed Adeline on top of the rise just outside the start of the monument circle, shading her eyes with her hand. When she saw me looking at her she quickly turned, lifted her gown and jogged toward Lucien and the waiting aerocar. I smiled at Adel though she couldn't see it. “That she does.”

  I turned back to the Captain to find she'd been studying me. “I can imagine she told all manner of tales about me before I came out here.” The Captain blushed slightly herself. I had to fight to keep from bouncing proudly on my heels. “She did, but I assure you she painted you as nothing but a gentleman.”

  “Oh, I'm sure,” I laughed. Then I did something I hadn't done in decades. I asked a woman if she would enjoy my company.

  "Would it be untoward of this General of the Borderwatch to ask this Captain of the Citadel out for some sweet tea some time?" I don't know where it came from or how it flowed so freely, but it felt good to ask it despite what her answer may be. Still, I looked to her hopefully, my hands clasped behind my back in true attentive soldier fashion. “I know a lovely place not far from here with a wide shaded porch and high backed chairs facing--”

  "General Bryce Landry, it would be my honor and pleasure." She clasped her hands behind her back to mimic my pose and bowed slightly at the waist. “I admit there is something curiously intriguing about you.”

  “Precisely mirrored, my dear Captain,” I mused aloud. “A delightful repast of sweet tea and a light lunch might be just the welcome retreat for us both, and give us the opportunity to get to know one another.” She nodded sharply. “Agreed. Though I can't tell you much more than you already know about ADAM and EVE.”

  I smiled. “That's just as well. I'm more interested in their guardian.”

  Her smile was tight but as warm as ever. Her heart-shaped face was so lovely, so adoring, even framed atop a starched uniform that spoke only of business. Clicking my heels I bowed to her with a smile. "I shall call upon you here tomorrow evenin'. Will that suffice?"

  Her dimples showed more when she smiled and bit her lower lip. "It would. You are very gallant, Bryce Landry."

  I nodded and slowly turned to leave, reluctant to trade the vision before me for that of my butler on the crest. Just a few paces away, I turned back and said, "I'm sorry, Captain. I usually avail myself to be a gentleman but I neglected to ask you your name." She smiled with a slight lift of her chin. "ADAM and EVE give new
names and identities to their elders, keepers and guardians. It's a security measure."

  “And what would yours be, dear Captain?”

  “You may call me Alice.”

  My smile brightened. I couldn't say why, but I almost said Alice just as she said it. Perhaps she looked like an Alice. I couldn't be certain. “I will see you tomorrow evening, Alice.” I waved to her and continued on my way.

  “Bryce!”

  I turned and saw her crouch to pluck something off the path. Perhaps I'd dropped a coin when I withdrew my kerchief. Happy to approach her again, I raised an eyebrow. “Did I lose a button, or....”

  She stood and held something between us. “I believe you dropped this.”

  I don't know how or why but I became transfixed. When I first saw Captain Alice I was struck by her poise and beauty. As she spoke, I felt a curious familiarity. Now I was stunned into silence as our eyes locked together on the item dangling from her fingertips.

  There, at the end of a chain, was a heart of bronze.

  THE END

  Of the first Heart of Bronze Story

  A Taste of Book 2

  What follows is an excerpt from the second Heart of Bronze book. I'd share the title with you, but it may give away more than a “taste.” It may also change before I publish it. Who knows? What you're about to read could change too. So, consider this a “collector's item.” Enjoy.

  Oh, and I should point out that it's really, really, really rough.

  I mean... Draft -1 Rough.

  Still. I couldn't update Clockwork Looking Glass without sharing a taste of the next book with the readers who made it this far, and who have asked me for updates. I hope it keeps you interested.

  ~ Michael J. Rigg

  SOMEWHERE AROUND CHAPTER 4...

  Captain Richard Kinney stepped out of the galley of the airship Compassion and sipped his coffee. He nodded and twitched his handlebar mustache, licking his lips and tasting mustache wax mingled with Chef Brody’s remarkable blend of Brazilian and Peruvian beans. He wiped at his upper lip with a slender white-gloved finger before turning toward the bridge.

  Compassion hovered high over the hills of Kentucky, angling slowly downward and coming out of thick cottony clouds as Kinney stepped through the hatch. “Afternoon, gentlemen.”

  The three men on the bridge mumbled greetings as they continued their work, not glancing up, as their captain took his place beside Lawrence Toller at the navigator’s table. Kinney lifted his mug in toast. Toller was a squat man with a wide forehead, and round spectacles fitted with various magnifying loupes to aide his nervous eyesight. Kinney, at six-two, and appearing sharply in his navy blue coat, leaned over him like a collapsing tower, and muttered, “Anything yet, lieutenant?”

  Toller, who was busy shuffling between a brass sextant, silver compass, and several chewed pencils, squinted through the forward windows, huffed, then made a mark on the map. “If you decide to continue heading west—”

  “We are heading west.”

  “Well…” Toller nodded as if hurried about something, and drew a finger along the map, “Our refueling options will be limited.”

  Kinney raised a pointed brow and looked out over the hills and valleys rising up to meet them. “Nonsense. There are plenty of dirigible stations between here and New Cali.”

  “I think what he means to say, sir, is that we’re deep within Confederate territory.”

  Toller nodded vehemently, his shaky hand waving the sextant at Pilot Gabriel Joseph who was concentrating on their descent. Kinney looked over his navigator toward the bald African at the wheel. “Do you share this paranoia, Gabe?”

  “No, sir. I’m just translating for the lil' guy.”

  Toller made a noise that sounded like a squeak.

  “I mean the lieutenant,” Gabe corrected himself, shooting a friendly smirk toward Toller.

  Kinney took a deep breath, then set his mug down on the map table near the raised edge fashioned to prevent things like pencils, compasses, and mugs from sliding off during the pitch and yaw of the ship. He pulled his white gloves a bit tighter, smoothed out his uniform coat around its gleaming brass buttons, adjusted his captain’s hat, then eyed each man on the bridge carefully. None of them wore their uniforms. Gabe’s gusseted shirt and vest gave him the appearance of a pirate’s mate, Lawrence Toller’s rumpled suit gave him the appearance of a stow-away accountant, and Crewman Brody, who was currently monitoring the steam gauges against the aft wall, was still wearing his grease-stained cook's apron.

  Slobs, Kinney thought. All of them. He cleared his throat and spoke with authority, “Firstly, we are not,” he raised his hands and made finger quotes, “Deep within the Confederacy. We are in Kentucky. Alabama is deep within the Confederacy. Brazil is deep within the Confederacy.” Kinney shook his head. “We are not going south. We are going west.”

  “Straight west will take us the width of the Confederacy,” Toller pointed out, his left eye twitching behind his spectacles. “There’ll be patrols, and with that mess out over the Atlantic—”

  “Which doesn’t concern us, particularly since the Atlantic lies to the east and we’re going west.” Kinney said as if addressing an impatient child. “Look.” He caught himself, took a deep breath to prevent himself raising his voice, and repeated in a lower register, “Look… Yes, we are flying Imperial colors. Yes, we are painted Imperial blue. Yes, we are Imperial officers of a former warship.” He narrowed his eyes at the squat navigator. “And, yes, I am well aware that our great nation has once again entered a state of disagreement with our misguided drawling neighbors to the south.” Kinney raised a finger for emphasis, the white glove bright in the shadowed bridge of the airship. “However… The Security Treaties of ‘77 remain in place. They have not been rescinded, and under Article K of the Security Treaties, both Imperial and Confederate vessels flying the red flag of Article K are exempt from privateering and may cross the other’s border in the pursuit of criminals.”

  Kinney lifted his mug from the table and sipped as he gave each man a challenging look. He spoke in a low voice as if his mug was a telephone and he was talking to a conspirator in another room. “We are pirate hunters now, not a carrier tug. We are in lawful pursuit of three enemies of the Empire.”

  Toller looked through the side viewport to the black and red flag flying below the larger circle of stars on a blue field. He pointed toward the small flag that flapped in time with the rapid beating of his heart. “They won’t see that from a distance, and not from our port side. And our vessel is a rather striking shade of Imperial blue, yes? I—”

  “I think,” Kinney interrupted as he leaned down to face the navigator, “You need to find me those pirates.” He stood tall and raised his voice. “The sooner we strike down those ships, the sooner we can go home.” He turned and moved purposely toward the aft hatch. “We all have work to do.” Kinney stopped at the door and turned toward the cook. “Mr. Brody.”

  The cook scratched at his thick beard and tapped the glass of a gauge. He yawned, “Sir?”

  Kinney raised his mug. “Excellent brew this morning.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The captain sniffed. “Do Lieutenant Toller a favor, will you?”

  Brody glanced toward Toller who looked back questioningly. “Sir?”

  “See to it Radio calls ahead for refueling stations. Let her know we’ll need coal, water, and a Tesla buffing.” Then he emphasized: “Tell her to tell them we’re an Article K vessel and explain our colors.” Kinney glanced toward Toller as he stepped through the hatch. “See if you can’t find some compassion for the Compassion.”

  After the captain was gone, Brody and Toller shook their heads at one another and returned to their duties.

  Gabe craned his neck forward and spotted something on the ground far below. “Looks like somebody beat us to it.”

  The other two men turned, then quickly moved to the forward viewport. They leaned out over the brass railing to see the fis
h-shaped charred wreckage on a hillside far below. Thin wisps of smoke were curling up from what clearly was once an airship.

  “Can you make it out?” Toller asked, squinting and pushing his specs up with shaky fingers.

  “Nope,” Brody said, “But I’ll bet diesel to dipsticks it weren’t a friendly.”

  “Why?”

  The cook motioned at the farmland all around the wreck. “No security. No Confeds swarmin’ over it. Whatever happened, happened quick and without a word. I guarantee ya, that’s one of ‘em, or the victim of one of ‘em.”

  Gabe pulled a large lever to bank steam and began a corkscrew descent toward the wreck. “Best let the captain know.”

  Brody nodded and rushed aft. As he moved past Gabe, the pilot said, “And tell Radio to keep her ears on. Just ‘cause they ain't here now don’t mean this place won’t be swarmin’ with ‘em in a minute.”

  “Right.”

  When they were alone on the bridge, Toller put his sextant back on the map table and moved to stand by the pilot. “What if it’s not one of the pirates?”

  The large man pulled his silver red-lensed goggles down over his eyes as the ship rotated to face the sun. “Then we’d best make that assessment and get the hell out of here before the Confeds get us.”

  Toller laughed nervously. He flashed a crooked sneer and gestured to the red and black flag outside. “But we’re Article Kaaaaaaay,” he said in mockery of their captain.

  “Won’t matter if she’s not a pirate and they think we’re the ones that shot her down.”

  Toller looked to the poster on the far wall that displayed the silhouettes of three airships, all of them relatively small but large enough to house a sizable artillery and crew to man it. Beneath each identifying silhouette was a name: Mystic Lady, Greedy Whore and Black Princess. Toller attempted to memorize the dark oblong shapes before returning to the railing and squinting down at the wreckage again, which was nothing more than a silhouette itself. “I can’t tell.”