I look down. The tips of Olivia’s fingers are turning black.
Olivia stares at them for many long seconds. Her unblinking gaze is uncannily mechanical. “What are you trying to say?”
Bayne turns back to Olivia, who’s looking between them, waiting for an answer. “I repeat what Vespa said. You are not human, Your Majesty.”
Vespa puts her head back in her hands. Bayne shakes his head. He seems to contemplate his shoes a long time before saying, “I would you were an Elemental for your sake. Perhaps then we could heal you. But no, you are something else entirely. You are like nothing I’ve ever encountered. You are a living, breathing automaton.”
There’s silence for several seconds.
“That’s impossible,” Olivia says. “I eat . . . I . . . I . . . sleep just like you! I have thoughts and feelings and—” She reaches up to grasp a hank of her hair, as if that would somehow be representative of her humanity, but it comes away in her hand. “Oh my,” she whispers, staring at it.
“Do you remember anything about your childhood? Your mother or father?” Bayne asks.
Olivia’s face becomes thoughtful. “My predecessor was both mother and father to me. I have never known anything else.”
“And do you remember growing up?”
“No,” she says slowly. “I have always been this age.”
“How far does your memory extend?”
She thinks for what seems an eternity. Finally, she shakes her head with a sad smile. More hair falls in golden curls on her lap. “There are just fleeting glimpses. Nothing that would suggest I was ever any less than I am now.”
“I don’t know quite what you are or how your father made you,” Bayne says. “But I think somehow he wedded flesh to metal.”
Deep within, a voice says, I know. I know that her father took her from the army here. I know how he used his dark and ugly magic to weld the body of Athena onto the skeleton of Blackwolf’s former general. But how I know that, I have no idea. And if I try to explain how, I literally can’t make my tongue form the words.
Bayne continues, “I don’t know how he did this, but the magic that kept it all working is dissipating. Perhaps it was the xiren poison, or the potion we gave you to purge you of the toxins. Or the demonstration just now. Whatever it is, I don’t think I can stop the withering of your flesh . . .”
There’s a commotion at the door—the sound of protesting and a thickly accented response, followed by the door thrown wide.
In walks Tesla, smoothing his hair with one hand before depositing the black box he used earlier in his jacket pocket.
Bayne moves to block him from getting too close, but I can see the Artificer’s eyes go to the dangling wires of the Empress’s broken ankle. Surprise is rapidly overwhelmed by curiosity. He moves to try to take a closer look.
“Shut the bed curtain,” Bayne says out of the side of his mouth.
Vespa hurries to comply, but it’s too late.
Tesla nods to them, then bows deeply for Olivia’s sake.
“Your Majesty will forgive the interruption, I hope,” Tesla says. “I had to see if you were well. You left my demonstration in such a rush, and . . .” He looks between all of us.
“I am well enough, Artificer,” Olivia says from behind the curtain. “Please allow us to retire in peace now.”
“Forgive me that I am so bold, but I could not help noticing your injury. Perhaps this is something I could help fix.”
Bayne crosses his arms over his chest. “What can be done has already been tried. I suggest you do as the Empress commands.”
Tesla’s mouth crimps, but he doesn’t seem in the least concerned by Bayne’s threatening posture. “Majesty, I can fix things as well as destroy them. I want you to know that. Things that your magic cannot fix.”
Suddenly Olivia throws back the curtain. I gasp.
“Can you fix this?” she says, gesturing toward her ankle. “Or this?” She rolls up a sleeve and shows where the flesh has melted from her elbow. “Or what about this?” She pulls back her stole and shows how her shoulder and neck have disintegrated into bloody shreds.
Her mouth is grim and her eyes frantic under her now-patchy hair.
I want to vomit from sheer horror.
Bayne steps aside reluctantly, and Tesla kneels near the Empress’s broken foot. He does not touch her in any way, merely gazes upon her circuitry. “This is the most amazing and wonderful thing I have ever been privileged to see,” he says. “And I do believe I can fix this, if you will let me.”
Olivia looks wildly between all of them. Bayne glowers, still with his arms across his chest. He looks like he wants to drag Tesla out of the room by his coattails. Vespa crosses over to me and puts her arm around my shoulders as if she knows what I’m feeling, though I’ve not been able to say a word.
“If you think you can . . . ,” Olivia says.
“There may be pain,” Tesla says. He looks up at Bayne. “I do not understand how your magic works, but might you be able to give her rest and ease?”
Bayne nods. “We can try. It didn’t work when we tried healing, but a sleeping spell should be easier. It will at least quiet the flesh.”
Tesla stands and bows, moving away from the bed. “If Your Majesty does not object . . .”
Olivia looks at me. As long as I live, I will never forget that wild, gray gaze nor the feeling that we are about to be swept away by the greatest storm any of us would ever face. I want to tell her . . . what? I am not sure that I can say what is in my heart. I go to her, and I clasp her blackened, bloody fingers. She holds my eyes until I feel as though she’s looking down into the dark place in my soul. I feel again her heavy body in my arms, her cornsilk hair against my lips. I want to tell her, but my feelings are tangled up in their own impossibility.
“I pray I will see you again,” she whispers to me. “There is too much left undone. I must see you again.”
All I can do is nod.
At last she looks at Tesla, Bayne, and Vespa. She nods slightly. “Where the Architect falters, perhaps the Artificer may find the way. But if you do not,” she says, looking around at each of us, “remember what we stood for. Remember what my Empire was meant to be. Not an Empire of conquest or violence but one of peace and learning. I charge you all by whatever power is left to me that you fulfill this mandate, that you strive to make the Known Lands a realm of peace.”
“Olivia,” Vespa chokes. She puts her hand over ours. “We will keep your wishes in our hearts forever.”
“Lie down, Majesty,” Bayne says. “All will be well.”
Olivia looks at all of us one last time before she closes her eyes. “I trust you with my life, such as it may be.” I think I see the glimmer of tears under her lids, and then one slides down her withering cheek. It leaves a trail of oil rather than water.
Bayne and Vespa stand on either side of the bed. They close their eyes and spread their hands. Magic, soft and somnolent, flows from their fingertips, enclosing Olivia in a misty glow. Tesla looks as though he’s trying to figure out how they achieve such manipulations of energy.
Soon Olivia’s breath becomes even, and her tortured body relaxes into a deep sleep.
“She will feel no pain now; the magic is enough to at least placate the flesh,” Bayne says. “Now see you do whatever it is you must do quickly.”
“She must be moved—perhaps if we each take an end of the blanket . . . ,” Tesla begins.
“What do you mean?” Vespa says. “Where are you taking her?”
“To my workshop,” Tesla says. “I can’t very well bring all I’ll need here.”
All of us are displeased.
“Look, do you wish me to fix her or not?” Tesla asks, looking at each of us in turn.
I want to hit him, but he has a point. I have no idea how much time we have.
Bayne finally bends to take a corner of the blanket and Tesla the other. I steady her in the middle. They lift her so as to keep her hidden in the blankets
as much as possible.
Vespa opens the door, and we carry Olivia away down the corridor.
CHAPTER 24
The next afternoon, Vespa and Syrus huddled around Olivia’s poor, mangled body in Tesla’s workshop, trying to figure out what to do. Healing spells hadn’t worked. Herbs and other poultices hadn’t worked. The sleeping spell was keeping her flesh in stasis, but she couldn’t be kept that way forever. Eventually, the spell would wear off.
Besides, the clock was ticking. Ximu was on her way and would likely arrive at the gates any day. Bayne had gone to see to the fortifications of Scientia and to make sure the City was prepared for siege if need be. He also, so he said, wanted to be sure the apothecaries were well stocked against xiren poison, if indeed they could figure out a proper antidote. He had forced Charles to go with him, trying to buy them time to figure out what to do for Olivia.
Tesla came to stand beside them.
“Do you happen to know if the Empress received any . . . message with the Phoenix I sent?”
“Yes,” Vespa said. “She received it and decoded it, just before the airship exploded.”
Tesla nodded. “Things are not what they seem to be here.”
“Well, I don’t know, this seems pretty bad to me,” Syrus said, gesturing at Olivia.
“This isn’t the half of it. She is a means to an end. Do you have any idea what she actually is?”
“I don’t know what you mean, Artificer. She is our Empress.” Vespa said
Tesla shook his head. “Perhaps she is now, but she was much more once.”
Vespa looked down at the thick white drape that obscured Olivia from her. “I don’t understand.”
“If what Charles has told me is correct, she was once the General of the Tinker King’s army.”
Vespa saw Syrus go pale. He was staring at Tesla as if he had known what the man was going to say before he’d said it.
“Syrus?”
He muttered something and shook his head.
“How is that possible?” Vespa asked.
“Perhaps some magic wedded flesh to metal?” Tesla asked. “I am eager to find out. But what I do know is this: Charles wants that army, and the General is the key. Without her, the army is merely an interesting art installation. With her, it is the most powerful army in the world.
“He entrusted me with helping him find it and control it. Thus far, I have been unsuccessful. When he discovered that the Empress was fleeing here from her enemies, he was ecstatic. Even more so when he realized that she was so vulnerable.”
“But how did he know what she was?” Vespa asked.
“He has studied many ancient texts, piecing together the story from them. He knew something like this”—he touched the white cloth near Olivia’s shoulder lightly—“was beyond him to recreate. Fortunately for him, I suppose, he had met me.”
“And you just went along with whatever he wanted?” Vespa asked.
“What I said yesterday at the demonstration was true. He offered me untold resources to make whatever I desired. I have not yet been able to secure any patron of that caliber. It seemed perfect. I should have known it was too perfect.
“Everything Charles says has the ring of truth to it, but there’s always an underlying lie. Yes, there was plague. But it spread unbelievably rapidly and by mysterious means. Anyone who thought they might have the solution to it disappeared or suddenly came down with plague themselves. Charles and I were the only two completely unaffected. Logically, that cannot be a coincidence.”
“And so?” Syrus said.
“When I understood the outlines of his plan, I decided to plead for help or at least hope that such a plea would be sufficient warning to your Empress. I had no idea what situation she was in or what she’d be fleeing from. I had no idea what she’d be like. I never expected her to be human,” he said, looking down again at Olivia’s still body.
“And we didn’t expect this,” Vespa said. “But she is still very human to us. Will you restore that?” She was challenging him, hoping that he was different from every other Scientist she’d ever met.
“I cannot fully restore that which was lost. I suspect the magic that kept the flesh together has been utterly undone. I also suspect the kinetic energy generated by the flesh is what kept the clockwork wound. I can fix the broken circuitry at the ankle, but I cannot know what else can be done until I can get beneath the flesh and see.”
“You are asking us to allow you to take off her flesh?” Syrus said. His voice was cold, but Vespa could hear the anguish underneath.
Tesla sighed. “I know it is difficult to understand. But know this—whosoever controls this automaton controls the army. She is the ultimate weapon, from what Charles says. We must have a care that she doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”
“She controls herself,” Vespa said quickly. “Unless you give her over to Charles or the xiren, she will follow her own destiny. She is still the Empress of the Known Lands.”
Tesla nods. “I think we understand one another, then. But I repeat: the flesh will have to come off if you want me to fix her.”
Syrus took Vespa by the arm and led her over to another corner of the workshop. The room was vast, filled with canvas-covered objects, metal struts, and tools strewn everywhere.
“You can’t seriously be thinking of letting him do this?” Syrus said.
Vespa sighed. She wasn’t sure what to think anymore. “Do we have any other choice?”
“Of course we do! We can choose not to kill her, for one thing! If we do this, we’re playing right into Charles’s hands!”
“I think Tesla is trying to say that we’re doing her more harm than good by keeping her this way. Bayne and I know from experience that her flesh cannot be healed. And Doctor Parnassus warned us of the same thing; we just couldn’t comprehend it. If she is kept in this state, she is more vulnerable to whatever Charles is planning than if she’s awake and functioning.”
“I still can’t believe this,” Syrus said. His dark eyes were as fierce as Vespa had ever seen them.
“Neither can I,” she said, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “But I’m beginning to think that if we keep her this way, we are denying her the life she was truly meant to live.”
Syrus hung his head.
Then she felt him straighten. He shrugged off her hand and marched back over to Tesla, who was hovering over something on his workbench.
“Who will she be when she wakes up?” Syrus asked.
Tesla’s smile was sad and brief. “I have no idea, lad. But I will do all I can to ensure she keeps the freedom to choose.”
CHAPTER 25
I don’t know where I’m going when I leave Tesla’s workshop. Somewhere, anywhere, other than this.
The girl I loved will soon be gone. In her place will be someone I don’t understand. Will she know me when she wakes up? Will she be reduced to only a machine?
Why must everything I love be taken from me?
The rage, held in so long, sweeps over me. I feel a great relief as I give myself up to houndshape. I let the hound take me, not caring that I am in the middle of a corridor full of people hurrying this way and that. I run through them, a white shadow fleeing through corridors of bone.
The black wolf is waiting for me when I come to the courtyard. I make my way over to him. He turns and I follow him, past the giant urns and crumbling statues, past empty temples where my ancestors worshipped the gods they’d left behind.
At last a hall looms before us, glowing like the moon’s twin brought to ground.
It feels as though the darkness within me opens wide to the darkness without here. In a vision I see the silver army swarming up and down this hill, locked in combat with Ximu’s minions. I see a tall figure watching from one of the balconies above. He is wearing the robes of the Heavenly Dragon. I still cannot see his face, but I know it’s Blackwolf.
The wolf leads me up the temple steps. The tall doors with their iron rings are wide-open.
I follow him across a broad porch. He slips behind an empty ivory throne. My rage is slowly transforming into curiosity. He whines and tilts his head.
A set of stairs leads down from behind the throne. He begins to descend, and as he does so, torches flicker with ghostlight. Whispers creep up the stairs, the conversations of a thousand spirits over the centuries.
I am not certain I want to do this, but I follow after him. At last we come to the bottom of the stairs. We pass a chamber from which so much sorrow flows that it nearly pulls me out of houndshape. But then we’re standing on a ledge. Crackling ghostlight illumines a vast pit.
The light skips across the tips of spears and the silver shoulders of an army that stretches farther than I can see. I cannot imagine how much time it took the hundreds who must have dug it to complete it.
In the distance I see a chariot at the head of a column. A chariot where a King might stand. Or a General.
There is an emptiness here, a yearning.
I look around, but the wolf is gone.
All that remains as the light slowly fades again into darkness is the image of the army and its empty chariot flaring behind my eyes.
CHAPTER 26
Vespa had not slept all night. She was still seeing Olivia’s poor mangled body as they slid it onto Tesla’s workshop table, still watching Syrus run through the corridors in houndshape. Piskel and Truffler had both been so sad, they were barely speaking to anyone. And Bayne had buried himself in work.
Vespa’s heart ached for all of them. For Olivia, who slept her magical sleep in hopes that her friends would be able to restore her. For herself, who just might have lost a friend. And for Syrus, who evidently loved their Empress passionately, far more than Vespa had ever realized.
She couldn’t allow herself to think that perhaps Olivia would never wake. She couldn’t allow herself to think that after all they had gone through, all they had fought for, that Olivia might indeed have succumbed. It was so senseless.
By dawn she was exhausted with thinking.
She dressed and, wrapping herself in a shawl she’d found in a trunk, decided to go seek out breakfast rather than waiting for it to come to her.
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