by A. W. Exley
“You’re not going to kidnap me and hold out for an exorbitant ransom are you?” Laughter burned in his eyes.
She cocked her head to one side, considering the possibility. Shut up with Jared in a remote location? Her heart stuttered against her corset stays. The two of them in seclusion? Not going to happen. “Wasn’t planning on it, sorry.”
“Shame,” he murmured.
Heat flushed through her torso. “So how does this stone work?”
Zeb resumed his impromptu lesson. “Some say the stone was touched by the hand of God and is proof that only he can bestow life. The stone works because it carries the trace of His touch and imbibes a hint of life to mechanical things.”
Allie’s mind turned to Eloise and her experiments with electricity, which would challenge the theological view. “What do you think?”
“I think it works in a way we don’t yet have the science to explain, but will one day.”
Another thought crept into her mind. “So does Thumper have a brain?”
The three boys exchanged guilty looks and none of them answered.
“Well, it’s sure going to be fun when you flip his switch. Have you thought what you will do if Thumper is as opinionated as Weasel?” Allie couldn’t keep the laughter from her voice.
Zeb looked equal parts flummoxed and worried as he considered the possibility.
Genius doesn’t always go hand in hand with common sense.
A chime from the clock over the mantle reminded them all of the time. The others rose to head back to their rooms, to finish homework due the next morning. Alfred raised a hand to Allie, calling her over to his desk. Weasel kept pace with Allie, his body hidden among the folds of her skirt.
Her grandfather shuffled papers, waiting until the other youths left before clearing his throat.
Oh, no. A cold lump circled lower and lower in her gut. “Out with it, I’m guessing you have bad news.”
“I have been advised that your presence is not required at dance class,” he said, risking a glance over his glasses at his granddaughter.
Allie gripped the book in her hands tighter and resisted the urge to laugh aloud. “I assume Lady Madeline had a hand in that decision?”
Alfred said nothing but shifted uncomfortably in his chair, a clear indication Allie was correct. She guessed Madeline had been unhappy about sharing her dance partner.
I bet she never shared her toys in the nursery.
Or perhaps she should thank Madeline, unsure how her racing pulse would cope with waltzing with Jared every week, before she gave herself away.
“Don’t worry about me, Poppa, I’m not upset.” She kissed his cheek, and left.
Monday, 1st August.
Early morning, Allie, Jared, and Duncan took the steps to Marshall’s mezzanine office. With the slate blinds raised, the office opened to the floor below. Marshall leaned on the railing, watching. Allie walked the floor as nervous energy fizzed under her skin. Her mind shot in several different directions as she tried to decide what to do. Part of her urged her to confide in the weapons master. She had watched him for several weeks as she worked under his tutelage during the summer holiday. Although hard and demanding, he was always fair. She saw him not just as a teacher, but as a mentor. Someone whose opinion she was coming to trust.
The three men watch her pace for several minutes before Marshall broke the silence. “Out with it.”
She halted and studied Marshall’s awkward stance, then realised when you only have one arm, you couldn’t cross them over your chest. “We shouldn’t have this conversation inside. Walls have ears.”
He snorted. “You’re guild through and through.” He moved to his desk and picked up a metallic object, the size and shape of an apple. He gave the stalk key several winds, depressed the top, and set it down on the desk. A low, unobtrusive hum filled the room. “Not that anyone would be listening here, but that should reassure you.”
Allie nodded. The apple device was a resonance emitter, which would interrupt and counteract any listening devices. “Zeb’s in something over his head and we need to stop him from drowning.”
“He’s building something in his lab that could blow the school up,” Duncan threw in, making a whooshing noise and throwing up his arms in glee at the prospect.
Jared shook his head at his cousin’s strange sense of humour. “The device has a lethal military application and Allie believes it would generate a large amount of interest on the black market. KRAC have been sending the Conri to deal with him.”
Marshall scratched his chin. “I knew they were sniffing around here, but the boy worries me.”
“Zeb’s an easy target if word got out,” Allie said.
Marshall fixed Allie with his sharp gaze. “Has it?”
Allie crossed her arms and raised her gaze to Marshall. “You keep making assumptions about what I am and how much I know.”
“You’re guild, feel free to fill in the rest for us.” He gestured to the apple device, reminding her their words would not be overheard.
“My grandfather is not guild.” Her feet wanted to pace some more but she commanded them to stay put. She crossed and uncrossed her arms instead.
Marshall kept picking at her defences. “No, but guild money paid for your place at St Matthews. I’m betting the association is on your father’s side.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that I am not a willing accomplice in whatever is at play here?” Her tone climbed higher but she pulled it back down. Letting out a breath, she held up her arms to the weapons master, exposing her slender wrists. “I’m seventeen, I am not marked. All your talk of allegiances, for what? No guild controls me.”
“What do you mean, not marked?” Jared’s question cut through the tennis match.
Duncan’s head got a break from flicking back and forth to watch the volley of conversation.
Marshall flicked his gaze to Jared and released Allie from his sights. “Eighteen is a significant age for nobles and guilds alike. You’ll be considered an adult and able to control your land and holdings. In the guilds you chose your allegiance, which is then tattooed on the inside of the wrist.”
Allie’s feet won out and she paced the few strides to the railing. “I’ll be marked by the guild which holds my life.”
“Holds your life? A strange way of putting it,” Jared said.
“No it’s not.” The energy drained from her body and into the floor beneath her feet. She came to a halt. What am I doing? “Breaking guild law carries lethal consequences. As children the very first guild law we learn is not to talk to outsiders about guild business.”
“I know what risk you take, talking to us.” Marshall’s soft tone reached out to her, as he laid a hand on her shoulder.
Allie fought back tears, vowing she would not cry in front of the men. The choice she would soon be forced to make overwhelmed her. She turned her face toward Marshall and away from Jared and Duncan. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her mind. Life unravelled in front of her. The secrets they wanted her to give up would cost her life, or worse, her freedom. Which side do I serve? Noble or guild? Friend or family?
She pulled back. “I have a contact with a guild. I have a suspicion I was placed here because of Zeb, but I’ve not been told anything yet.”
Marshall nodded. “In the meantime keep an eye on Zeb. Make sure one of you is with him all the time, we don’t want him disappearing on us.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze before dropping his hand Allie’s shoulder. “Is there anything I can do in exchange for your help?”
A sigh tore through her body. Events were now set in motion and she didn’t know how they would end. An idea popped into her head. “Yes, I need space for Eloise and her experiments. Somewhere light and high up. It needs to be private and with access to the roof.”
Nobody can help me but at least I can do something for Eloise.
Marshall laughed. “An unusual request but I’ll ask around, see what I can do.”
Dusk h
azed the light outside when Allie sat at the desk in her room, a tiny strip of paper held between two fingers. Taking up her quill, she scratched out a brief question:
Am I here for the same reason as KRAC?
Letting go of the strip, she let it furl back into a tight roll. Opening a drawer, she pulled out a small glass vial with a copper stopper. Inside lay a slumbering insect. Unstopping the end, she tapped out the minute creature. She ran a fingertip down its back and sheer gossamer wings of rainbow hues unfurled. The dragonfly had a metal body, with small antenna on its brass head that resembled dual compass needles. The Stone of Coulags imbued the miniscule brain with sentient abilities and ensured the mechanism never needed winding.
Allie unhinged the end segment of its body and slid in the tightly furled note. The insect had absorbed a drop of her blood and another from the recipient of the message. The blood enabled it to act as a tiny carrier pigeon, one capable of finding the matching blood, regardless of where the person resided.
The head turned from side to side and the antenna swung back and forth as the insect oriented itself. Opening the casement she leaned out, palm extended, and then set the dragonfly free. So beautiful and delicate; she could imagine how it would flit around the countryside, fitting in with its flesh and blood counterparts, unnoticed, as it winged toward London.
Wednesday, 3rd August.
hree nights later and a tap, tap, tapping dragged Allie from sleep. The noise sounded like a clock with an erratic heartbeat, unable to keep time. She sat up and glanced around the room and expected to see a twitching frog launch itself off Eloise’s desk and then realised it came from outside the room. The window to be exact. Letting her toes sink into the lush oriental carpet, she approached. A flash caught her eyes in the moonlight. A fragile creature threw itself against the window trying to gain entrance.
“All right, all right, don’t hurt yourself,” Allie muttered as she opened the casement. The brass dragonfly shot into the room and alighted on Allie’s arm. She drew the window closed and sat at her desk, holding out her left hand. The insect hopped onto the outstretched palm.
“Let’s see what you have for me, my little friend.” She gently tapped the last segment of its body and it unhinged, revealing a tightly scrolled piece of paper. Allie unfurled the tiny strip to read the hidden message.
There is more to be learned, than what is taught in a classroom.
She gave a deep sigh. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
Allie stroked a finger along the dragonfly’s back and it folded it wings back over itself, allowing her to drop it into a small glass vial. Placing the stopper on the end, Allie tucked the messenger into her desk drawer. She headed back to the comfort of her bed, sunk into the mattress and pulled the coverlet over her head, trying to shut out the world invading her dreams.
Thursday, 4th August
Allie found Marshall at his desk in the mezzanine office. One look at her face and he reached for the sonic emitter and pushed the stalk. She waited until the buzz prickled her skin before approaching.
He took the slim piece of paper, glanced down then raised his gaze to her. “This isn’t aethertape. How are you communicating?”
A small smile flitted over her face. “You were supposed to be teaching Jared subtlety but that’s as blunt a question as he would ask.”
Marshall gave a huff of laughter. He placed the tape on the desk and used two large fingers to reveal the message. He studied the few words for a moment and then released the ends. The tape rolled back upon itself and he leaned back in his chair.
“You’re aligned to the Whisperers.” A statement this time, no question.
“You sound so sure.”
“The message is subtle and speaks of knowledge; the Whisperers are the only guild with those attributes.”
Cold water ran down Allie’s spine. Her actions crossed a line, violated guild code and now Marshall knew who pulled her strings.
“As we feared, the guilds know of Zeb’s work. I know the risk you make sharing this and I have kept my end of the bargain. There is a space available for Eloise.”
Later that afternoon Allie dragged Eloise along an empty corridor. They were in the disused wing of the school. Far below their feet Zeb kept his laboratory. Instead of heading down, Allie took the darkened entrance opposite and they climbed up a spiral staircase. The worn stone steps wound round and round the central axis.
“Where are we going?” Eloise said, her breath coming short from the exertion.
“You’ll see,” the only clue Allie gave her friend.
The base of the stairwell had no external openings. Only as they climbed higher did small arrow slits start to appear and shed light on the gloomy oubliette. They stopped at a door at the top and Allie pushed it open to reveal the tower chamber. Sunlight streamed in through enormous windows and highlighted the dust-covered floor.
Eloise walked to the thick hand spun glass and pressed a palm to the grimy surface.
“The school is letting you have this space as a laboratory,” Allie said.
Her friend spun from the window, her eyes wide.
“You won’t be interrupted up here. There is plenty of light, the tower is the highest point and I’m told it’s frequently struck by lightning.”
Rapture spread over Eloise’s face at the mention of lightning. A shimmer crept into her eyes and a single tear raced over her cheek. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Zeb is under your feet and if he blows himself up, he’ll topple the tower as well.”
The girls laughed and explored the small room. A circular workbench hugged the stone and ran halfway around the space. Although coated in decades of dust, the wood appeared sound. One window opened and gave access to the flat roof of the turret via a rusted iron ladder.
Allie reached out one hand and yanked at a rung. The ladder held and she hoped it took her weight; she didn’t want to take a tumble several stories to the cobbles below. “I’m sure Duncan and Jared will help carry up whatever equipment you need. And once it’s dark I’ll go out and move your turbines.”
Friday, 5th August
Weasel chased the castor wheels on the library trolley, batting at them and jumping back as though expecting retaliation. Allie laughed watching his antics, so similar to a live kitten, if it were merged with a weasel, skeletal and covered in vicious spikes.
I hope Eloise doesn’t get any ideas and try to replicate it in flesh.
Allie shelved books for her grandfather after classes with Weasel keeping her company. She picked up a thick tome from the top of the three-layered trolley, her eyes scanning the shelf, looking for the right spot.
A low hiss came from by her ankles and then Weasel shot between two books on the bottom row, peering out from his hiding hole at the approaching intruder.
Edward Hamilton walked down between the shelves, his hand trailed over book spines and then he stopped between Allie and the cart. “Well, look what I have found between the pages, a pressed flower.” He pushed her back against the stack.
Allie took a deep breath. “Did you get lost? This is the library, in case you can’t read the sign over the door.”
He gave a sneer and caged her with his outstretched arms. “I hear you have taken to hanging around the gymnasium, are you helping that cripple polish his sword?” He laughed and sniggering came from the other row, giving away the presence of his toadies.
She turned her head and bit back the retort on her tongue as she tightened her grip on the book. Looking up she gave him a smile, before shoving the corner of the heavy volume into his stomach. He gave a grunt and staggered backwards.
“I don’t just polish swords, I shove them into soft squishy things. You might want to keep that in mind next time you try and touch me. I just might bite.” Throwing the book on the trolley, she pushed the laden cart along the row and out into the open walkway.
Alfred looked up from his desk. “Everything a
ll right?”
“Fine,” she called back. “Lord Hamilton and his friends were lost.”
The three youths exited the stacks, threw glances to Allie and her grandfather and then hit the swing doors. Weasel trotted behind hissing and spitting with the spikes along his back raised. He didn’t lower his defences until the door closed behind the trio.
Collecting more returns, she pushed the trolley to the history aisle. She stood amongst the old books with several waiting in her left arm and balanced on her hip while she worked. She stretched upward with her right arm toward a high shelf and swore under her breath as the muscle in her shoulder screeched in protest. The jab of pain shot down her arm and forced her to drop the limb.
She pulled the muscle sparring with Duncan. During hand to hand the previous week she attempted to take him down to the mat and miscalculated her position. She wrenched her shoulder trying to manoeuvre his bulk the wrong way.
Marshall drilled her in the correct holds daily to ensure they became second nature. A guild master would have beaten her for such an error.
Sparring with the more powerful youths put extra pressure on her body. She swivelled her head and tried to rotate the joint to ease the pressure, when a voice came from behind.
“Why didn’t you say you were hurt?” Jared stalked down the stacks on silent feet and arrived in time to catch both the exclamation and the contracted movement.
“Some watch dog you are,” she whispered to Weasel.
The critter cocked its head. The ears rotated to Jared and back again without so much as a twitch, indicating he saw no threat to Allie.
“It’s nothing.” She tried to wave it off and continue with the job at hand. However life conspired against her, the next book also resided on a top shelf. She glared at it as though it jumped the pile just to torment her. She was unwilling to stretch her arm again in front of Jared.
“I swear you’re as stubborn as a mule,” he muttered under his breath. “Let’s have a look at it.”