“There are several petitioners already waiting to see you in the great hall, Madam President,” Jack interjected, just as Alice opened her mouth to reply to Pearl. Alice groaned, and the chair scraped over the floorboards as she stood. She was almost out of the door when she looked around. “Oh, Ivy, I wonder whether you might do something for me today?”
I glanced up from my plate. “Yes, Mother.”
“I’m supposed to visit the perimeter wall. My regular visit. Unfortunately, I won’t get through the list of petitioners in time. Are you feeling well enough to make the visit in my stead?”
I smiled. “Of course, Mother.”
“Of course, Mother,” Pearl mimicked my words in a high voice, rolling her eyes and tossing her hair. I glared at her before taking my leave from the dining room to change into something more appropriate for a perimeter visit.
The wind tugged at the strands of my hair. Much shorter now, it was impossible to tie back from my face, and though I’d grown to like the style—Pearl was right, it suited me—the wind now whipped the short hair into my eyes. I stood on top of the Twelfth Tower, which looked out to the north, beyond the boundaries of Melfall and out over the lands of The Forge as they stretched out to the horizon.
I’d never been beyond Melfall, The Forge’s capital city, though Alice took a tour through the countryside every couple of years. She said there were many little villages scattered throughout the land, though none were visible from my vantage point. In the foreground were rolling hills, and in the far distance, I could see hazy mountains, barely tipped with white in the heat of summer. Though I couldn’t see it now, I knew that if I visited the Seventh and Eighth Towers, I would see to the coast to the south and the glittering sea beyond.
I’d walked along the perimeter wall before; the first time was when I was a child and had argued with Alice about the size of the sky. I’d said the sky was small—I’d told her it was the width of my hand. She’d given me a curious look, and I’d held up my hand above me, to show her that it blocked out the sky over the width of the buildings that lined Sixth Avenue. Alice had tried to explain that the sky was much larger and that in the city we couldn’t see it so well because the buildings got in the way. I didn’t understand her, and so she’d taken me for a visit to the perimeter wall.
I remembered stepping out onto the wall-walk and trailed my fingers along the ramparts, as I craned my neck to see above me. With my other hand, I’d held it up to the sky, amazed that my hand covered only the slightest section of the sky. I had gazed around at the azure ceiling that spread out in every direction to meet a hazy horizon in the far distance.
Many times, I’d returned to the perimeter wall, and climbed the stone steps to one of the towers—there were twelve towers in all, each marking the end of twelve straight avenues that ran from the marketplace around the clock tower like the spokes of a wheel. I’d now walked every section of the wall that encircled the city, at least once, but I’d never tired of this view.
This time, though, I wasn’t here to enjoy the view or to walk the wall-walk. I was here to get a report from the Captain of the President’s Guard, or city guard as people knew them, whose job was to patrol the perimeter and guard against any threat to the city.
Alice formed the Guard at the start of her presidency, to replace the robotic Hearts who had formed the late Queen’s army.
Remembering Raven’s story, an unwelcome thought crept into my head. She might still be alive. No, it’s not possible. I shuddered.
“Miss. Rowntree?” The Captain stood to attention next to me, touching his forefinger to his forehead in salute.
“Captain Walsh,” I gave a curtsy, and he relaxed his stance somewhat, though he still stood straight under his plate armor, with his helmet tucked under his arm as he greeted me. His hair was damp, and beads of sweat had formed on his upper lip.
“You must be hot in all that,” I said. “Doesn’t the President’s Guard have a cooler uniform for the summer?”
“No, miss,” Captain Walsh said. “It’s too dangerous to wear anything but full armor when on patrol.”
I glanced down at the cotton vest I wore over my corset and shirt.
“No need to worry yourself, Miss Rowntree,” Captain Walsh added. “You are under my protection. I would shield you with my life if it came to it.”
“Thank you, Captain,” I replied. “Do you expect an imminent attack? I understand we have accords of peace with each of the other eleven kingdoms. Where are we expecting this attack to come from?”
“Expect the unexpected,” Captain Walsh said, turning to stare at the horizon. “We must never neglect our duty to our President nor to Melfall.” His words boomed.
Several guards saluted as they marched past, also in full plate armor. When they had gone, Captain Walsh leaned toward me to whisper. “Between us, Miss. Rowntree, you’re right. The Forge has no enemies and nothing to fear. There has not been an attack on Melfall, or The Forge, these last eighteen years, since the Queen’s defeat.”
At the mention of the Queen, the breath left my lungs. Still, I forced a smile. “That’s reassuring, Captain.”
“However, we must be diligent. I drill that mantra into all the guards under my command. We are ever mindful of our duty.”
“I will include that in my report to our President.”
Captain Walsh smiled, looking pleased with himself. “I’m at your service. What would you like to see?”
“What does Madam President do when she visits the perimeter?”
“Madam President takes a tour of the wall-walk, greeting the soldiers. It’s encouraging for the troops to have a moment with one’s superiors, you know.”
“I’ll do that then,” I said.
Captain Walsh led me along the wall-walk, and I spoke to several pairs of guards standing watch at regular sections of the parapets. I made small talk, learned that most of them had served on the President’s Guard for only a few years, and complimented them on the gleam of their armor. We strolled in the full glare of the sunshine. By the time we came to the First Tower, my shirt was damp, and my hair was clinging to the sheen of perspiration on my skin.
“No need to continue,” Captain Walsh said. “Word will spread about your visit. You need not chat with every man on the wall, no matter how much they’d like to bend the ear of a beautiful, young woman.”
I blushed, thanking him for the compliment.
“Shall we take the covered walk back to Twelfth Tower? I think you might prefer to be out of the sun?”
I hesitated, turning my face towards the sky to appreciate the limitless azure above. As if in answer, the wind whipped my hair again, and I turned my back on the view to cover my face.
We were about to take the stairs, when I glanced in the other direction, over the city rooftops.
I noticed the cogs that lined the apex of the rooftops and halted. I covered my eyes with one hand to shield them from the glare, squinting at the sight. From this vantage point, I knew the cogs were moving.
“Captain Walsh?”
He turned to me.
“Do you know what they are?” I pointed at the cogs on the rooftops.
“I’m not sure what you mean, miss?”
“There is machinery on those rooftops. See there? There are similar moving cogs on most of the roofs.”
Captain Walsh peered out. “I see them.”
“I’m sure they’re moving,” I said, leaning out over the inner ramparts, wishing I could get a closer look. “But what are they for? What do they do?”
Another puzzle.
Captain Walsh was less interested. He straightened and turned away. “Mere decoration, I’m sure. Every citizen of Melfall devotes themselves to the esthetic glory of our city. Beauty is the goal.”
I pressed my lips together. “It’s moving—like a machine. Nobody builds machines for beauty. They’re built for a purpose.”
“I’m merely a captain. You’re a much better judge of esthetics. In
any case, the eyes of the President’s Guard should always focus on what is beyond the perimeter. I spend little time scrutinizing our own citizens. Shall we?”
He gestured towards the steps that descended the first tower. I reluctantly turned from the rooftop cogs and took the steps back to street level.
A trumpet bellowed. Captain Walsh saluted, followed by the guards who stood in a line behind him.
“You have honored us with your visit, Miss. Rowntree,” Captain Walsh said. “Please give our respects to Madam President.”
“I will, Captain.” I smiled at the guards standing as still as statues. Then I noticed something unusual.
Behind them, at the place where Twelfth Avenue met the Twelfth Tower, the gates in the perimeter wall—one of only two entrances to Melfall—stood open.
I hesitated, frowning at the sight.
“Do we get much overland trade?” I asked Captain Walsh.
“I beg your pardon?”
I pointed to the open gates. “I would have thought it is harder to bring goods by the northern roads. Doesn’t most of our trade come by ship?”
Captain Melfall didn’t even glance at the gates. “Those gates are not open to admit a caravan of traders.”
“Oh?” I tilted my head. “Why would the farmers travel so far when it isn’t a market day?”
“It’s not to admit the farmers either.”
He shifted his weight, and I saw the hair sticking to the moisture on his forehead.
“Then why are the gates open?”
“The gates to our city are always open.”
I frowned. “They are?”
“These gates have not closed for eighteen years.”
“You leave them open all the time?”
“That’s correct.”
I stared around, trying to understand. “You just told me that the President’s Guard was always vigilant against an attack. Yet our gates remain open? Always?”
Captain Walsh shrugged his shoulders, though faint pink blotching rose up his neck. “The Forge has no enemies, Miss. Rowntree. There is no need to close the gates. That’s what Madam President said.”
I stared at the gates that had stood open for eighteen years. I was still shaking my head when I turned away.
“Thank you,” I murmured. Then, abruptly, I remembered something and turned back.
“Captain Walsh?”
He stood straight. “Yes, Miss. Rowntree?”
“Have you ever heard of the white rabbit?”
The captain frowned. “The white rabbit? Of course, I have.”
I blinked. “You have?”
“You’re probably too young to remember the white rabbit. A supporter of the Queen, and a member of her inner circle.”
“Have you heard rumors that he has returned?”
Captain Walsh shook his head. “Nobody has seen the white rabbit since the Queen… well, since your mother became Madam President—long may she reign.”
Moving parts on every rooftop. That’s what I saw as I retraced my steps along Twelfth Avenue towards the President’s Palace. I kept my eyes focused on the line of the roofs. Had those parts always been moving? If so, why was I only noticing them now?
I cursed myself for my previous inattention. How much happened in this city I was unaware of? I’d grown up in Melfall. I’d been nowhere else. I thought I knew the city well, but the last couple of weeks had shown me parts of the city that I never knew existed.
First, I’d discovered people living underneath Melfall. Now, there were machines atop every rooftop, and I couldn’t be sure it hadn’t always been so. Surely, I would have noticed?
I bumped into someone on the street and stumbled. My top hat fell from my head and rolled into the middle of oncoming traffic.
“Watch where you’re going!” an older woman’s voice scolded me.
I waved an apology as I dodged a steam-powered carriage motoring along the road. It’s horn blared, and the driver slammed on the brakes, before brandishing a fist at me as he rolled by.
I waved another apology, setting my hat back on my head. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of red. It drew my eyes into the alley leading off the busy avenue.
A Heart.
Without taking my eyes off the robotic card, with the mark of the late Queen’s patronage on its chest, I stepped off the curb again to dash towards it. More shouts and blaring horns followed, but I ignored them all.
I stepped into the deserted alley, my footsteps clattering over the irregular cobblestones to echo off the walls of the buildings as they loomed overhead.
The Heart was marching in the opposite direction, keeping a regular pace, holding a spear in one hand.
“Stop!” I yelled out as I dashed after it.
The Heart didn’t stop or turn. It kept up its steady pace along the alley. It came to a corner, jerked to turn around it, then continued without pause.
I gathered up my skirts, hoisting them above my knees, as I dashed forward. Breathing heavily, and wishing I hadn’t laced my corset so tight this morning, I rounded the corner after the Heart.
“Wait!” I heard my voice echo off the walls. “I need to talk to you!”
The Heart didn’t pause, and I wondered whether it could hear me. All the stories I’d heard about the Hearts told they were programmed to respond to verbal commands, to answer simple questions, and undertake complex actions. This one, however, wasn’t reacting as I’d expected.
I forced myself to run faster. The Heart marched at a regular pace, so I caught up before the Heart reached the next corner.
I yelled out again, before putting a hand on the Heart’s spear arm and coming around to stand in front of it.
“I’m talking to you,” I said and struggled to catch my breath. I looked into its robotic face, getting a good look at it. The body of the Heart was like a playing card, flat and rectangular, decorated in the Nine of Hearts motif. Its arms and legs were modeled to appear human, and when I stared up into its face, a shiver ran down my spine.
The Heart had a face, smooth and devoid of expression, but its eyes were cameras that rolled around so it could “see.” I heard a faint hum as the camera swiveled to focus on me.
I swallowed down my uneasiness and raised my voice. “Nine of Hearts,” I addressed it, “What are you—?” I said, but the Heart reached forward and grabbed the front of my shirt. It hauled me upwards, without effort, so that my feet were kicking in the air.
“Hey, what are you—?” I repeated, louder this time, as I tugged at the Heart’s fist where it bunched my shirt in its fist. I searched for a panel on its chest or a latch that I might open to see how the robot worked. Perhaps I’d even be able to disable it and take it back to the President’s Palace for further study. The Heart’s grip didn’t loosen in the slightest as I struggled, and I used my most commanding voice. “Let me go!”
At first, I thought the Heart hadn’t heard me, but then I hurtled through the air before slamming against the brick wall of the building across the street.
A stab of pain tore through my head. I blinked, as black shadows flickered at the edge of my vision. I crouched on the footpath, leaning against the wall and holding my head in my hands.
When I’d gathered my wits to look around again, the Heart had disappeared.
5
23rd August
The ‘closed’ sign hung on the door of Thackery’s Fine Antiques. I peered into the window, hoping I’d see some evidence of movement inside, some sign that Mr. Thackery was remedying the code violations I’d used to withdraw his license for operation. The shop was quiet, empty.
I closed my eyes.
“I have children to feed,” Mr. Thackery had said when I’d taken away his license. I heard the echo of those words now, and I couldn’t shake the heaviness that had lodged in my stomach when I’d visited the tunnels and seen how my strict adherence to the esthetic code had cost Mr. Thackery his livelihood, his home, and his family.
I leaned my
forehead against the cool glass of the shop window, wondering what to do next.
I wondered if I could find the tunnel entrance without Raven, or if I should even try—perhaps these people would rather be left alone than to be confronted by the architect of their miserable existences? I touched my stomach as the heaviness persisted. I couldn’t do nothing, but how could I help them? How could I undo the damage I’d done?
I saw Raven’s face in my mind as I remembered his offer: You can choose to help them. I hung my head. I should help them, but I couldn’t betray Alice to do it.
I sighed, opening my eyes as I turned to leave. A movement snagged my attention from the corner of my eye. My gaze snapped back to the shop, and this time, I pressed my face against the glass to see past the window’s reflection.
Someone was inside.
I rapped at the door. The figure lurking in the back froze.
A moment passed.
Then the figure hurried out of sight.
“Spades,” I cursed underneath my breath and ran to the corner of the street to get around to the rear of the building to see if I could head the person off before they disappeared.
As I rounded the corner, I saw a mess of gray hair and the dirty suit that Mr. Thackery had been dressed in when I closed his shop.
“Mr. Thackery!” I yelled out and ran toward him.
Mr. Thackery turned, his eyes narrowing as he saw me. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
I came to a standstill a short way away from him, giving him space. “I wish to say—”
“I don’t want pity, girl,” Mr. Thackery sneered. “Not from you.”
I grasped my hands in front of my chest. “I just wanted to say…”
“What? You’re sorry? Is that it?” Mr. Thackery pushed a hand through the mess of his hair. “A little late for that, isn’t it? You took away my shop, my business—I spent years building it up, you know. It’s tough, in a place that only values shiny, new things, to encourage people to find beauty and value in things that are tarnished and imperfect. There’s character in things that have been used and passed from one person to the next. Every scratch and every dent tells a story. Few people in the Forge are interested in stories, though. All they want is the latest thing, as long as it’s shiny, beautiful, and perfect. That’s all people care about around here. Nothing’s changed. Not really. I remember what it was like before, under the Queen. Not that you’d understand—all you know is peace.”
Ivy: Daughter of Alice Page 14