Clockwork Alchemist (The Thief's Apprentice Book 1)

by Sara C. Roethle

  “Well?” Arhyen pressed.

  She sighed and once again glanced around the apartment. Grand it was not, but it was better than being alone in the dark. “I could probably remember,” she began, “given the time. It would help if I had reference material to look over. Sometimes I forget the symbols.”

  Arhyen leapt to his feet. Before she knew it, he’d put his hands on her waist, and lifted her from the ground as he spun in place. As soon as he put her down she stumbled with dizziness, but he effortlessly caught her with a hand at her back. “How utterly brilliant!” he exclaimed happily.

  She stared up at him, confused, and still a little dizzy.

  He frowned, then laughed as he pushed his shaggy hair out of his face. Seeming to realize their closeness, he stepped away from her. “Sorry for the sudden excitement. I was simply overcome with joy that I brought you to London.”

  She smiled as something like elation filled her heart.

  “Who knew that you’d make such an excellent back up plan?” he added.

  Her heart dropped. For a moment there, she thought he actually wanted her along, when really, he was just using her for information. It didn’t matter. With sudden resolve, she straightened her spine and lifted her nose in the air. She was using him so she could find her purpose in life, after all. It was no different.

  “What do we do next?” she asked blandly.

  Arhyen seemed to lose some of his joy, but explained, “I suppose first I’ll acquire the reference books you mentioned. I’ll need to stall my employer. I’d rather not let him know the journal was stolen. I’ll of course supply you with anything else you may need. You’re doing me a huge favor.”

  Liliana nodded and internally reassured herself, If he was going to use her, she would use him too. “Anything I need?” she pressed.

  He suddenly seemed a bit nervous, but nodded. “Yes, anything, unless it’s something absurd like asking me to assassinate the queen.”

  She inhaled sharply. She didn’t know what he was talking about, but it didn’t matter, as long as he could help her. “In exchange for recreating my father’s journal, I need you to find my purpose,” she stated bravely.

  Arhyen leaned further away from her in surprise. “Your purpose?”

  She nodded. “Everyone needs a purpose. Your purpose it to steal journals for people. That cafe man’s purpose is to bring people tea and sweets. I need a purpose.”

  Arhyen’s lips formed an oh of understanding. “You mean you want an occupation.”

  She pursed her lips in thought. “Is stealing journals an occupation?”

  Arhyen laughed. “Not in and of itself, but it is part of an occupation.”

  Liliana’s mechanical heart sped as she had as sudden idea. “Can you teach me how to steal journals?”

  Arhyen frowned, then patted her shoulder. “I’m not sure you know what you’re asking.”

  She pouted. She was so sure she’d had a very good idea. “What is your occupation called?” she asked, hoping to clarify what she wanted from him.

  He chuckled. “Most would call me a thief, though I do other things too.”

  She nodded in acceptance. “That settles it. My condition for recreating what was in father’s journal, is that you must teach me to become a thief.”

  Arhyen balked, which made Liliana feel all the more satisfied with how she’d taken control of the situation. If being a thief was Arhyen’s purpose, then perhaps it could be her purpose too.

  Arhyen’s eyes seemed to be slightly bulging out of his head, but finally, he nodded. “If that’s truly your desire, I suppose I’m not in a position to say no.”

  Despite his obvious reservations, Liliana’s spirits lifted. “When do we start?” she asked happily.

  He tsked at her. “The first rule as my new pupil is that you must have patience. Right now, I must meet with my employer to buy us some time, and I’ll try to find you some reference books on the way back. Then tonight, your training will begin.”

  Liliana couldn’t contain her excitement. She wanted to remain poised, but knew it shined through in her stance and expression. “What will my first night of training entail?” she couldn’t help but ask.

  He winked at her. “We’re going to find out who stole your father’s journal, and why.”

  She frowned. “But we won’t need it if I can recreate it . . . ” she trailed off.

  He answered with a curt nod. “Be that as it may, as the greatest thief in all of London, I cannot let the perpetrator go unpunished. I’ve never failed a job, and I don’t intend to start now.”

  She nodded in acceptance. As long as she was still needed, she wanted to find out why someone had stolen the journal from them too. “But how will we find anything out? The man who took the journal wore a mask.”

  Arhyen grinned, then began to pace around the apartment. “Remember how I mentioned that stealing journals, and other things, for that matter, is only part of what I do?” He moved to a shelf and started pulling items out of his coat pockets, only to replace them with new items.

  Following him across the room, she nodded.

  “The other thing I’m good at is finding information,” he continued, moving to another shelf to retrieve a notebook. “You’ll have to learn both traits if you expect to become a successful thief.”

  Excitement filled her once again. “I’ll work hard to recreate the journal, and I’ll learn everything you have to teach me,” she assured.

  He smiled and held out his free hand to her. She was familiar with the gesture, but had never actually participated. She reached out hesitantly, and his large palm encased her gloved hand and gave it a hearty shake.

  Their hands parted, and Arhyen strode across the room to where he’d left his satchel. Lifting it in his grasp, he placed the notebook inside, then moved to paw through a kitchen drawer with his free hand. “I shouldn’t be gone long,” he explained as he next moved to the bookcase, removed a book, placed a few sheets of paper inside of it from within his satchel, then replaced it. “Just an hour or two to meet with my employer, then another hour to gather your books,” he continued.

  Liliana watched him curiously, resisting the urge to examine his discarded items.

  Satchel slung across his shoulder, he walked back to the designated kitchen area and began cutting slices from a large loaf of bread. As he proceeded to make himself a sandwich, he continued. “No one is likely to bother you here, but I’d appreciate it if you remained inside with the door locked.” He paused his activities to look over his shoulder and meet her eyes. “Don’t open the door for anyone, even if they knock politely. Whoever it is will come back if they have business with me.” He turned back to his sandwich preparations.

  She was beginning to feel nervous about being left alone in the apartment. Sure, there were locks on the door, and she was quite accustomed to being alone, but she knew nothing of the city. What if something caught fire, and she had to evacuate? What if one of the officers they’d seen at the gate came calling? Was she to ignore his knocks as well? She slumped down onto the nearby sofa, feeling dizzy.

  She heard crinkling, and turned to watch as Arhyen wrapped his sandwich in a piece of parchment. He stuffed the wrapped sandwich into his satchel, then turned to look at her. Seeing her expression, his face grew concerned. “Are you well?”

  She nodded, but it made her even more dizzy. Everything was happening so quickly. She’d only just gotten to London, and now she was already going to be left on her own.

  He frowned, but took her word for it. “Remember what I told you,” he ordered. “Just stay here, and I’ll be back soon.”

  She nodded again, and a moment later he was out the door. She heard the sound of several locks being turned, then the sound of his footsteps as they echoed down the street. She remained on the sofa and looked down at her hands in her lap. He hadn’t told her what she was supposed to do. Whenever her father had failed to give her direction, it meant she was supposed to remain by his side silent
ly until he came up with a task for her. When her father would leave the compound, she was to sit in the study and wait for his return. Of course, she rarely obeyed on the latter. When her father was gone she would read his books, make up games to play with herself, and sometimes even experiment with minor alchemy, taking care to clean up her messes long before he returned.

  She supposed she should apply the same tactics to the current situation. She was alone, after all. No one would know if she read the books, or did cartwheels across the apartment even. She laughed at her own thoughts. The books would do, and maybe a quick peek at the things Arhyen had removed from his pockets.

  Arhyen hurried down the street, wanting to accomplish his tasks as quickly as possible. He wasn’t sure what had him so riled, but he felt uneasy leaving Liliana alone. No one was likely to bother her, but still, they’d left a body in an alleyway, and the masked man weighed heavy in his thoughts. Why had he stolen the journal? Could he have known what it contained? Few knew why Arhyen had ventured to the hidden compound, or that he had gone at all, but the information could have been obtained by any number of individuals. His best lead in that direction was his employer. It would be helpful to know if he’d told anyone else what he’d hired Arhyen for, but Arhyen didn’t see an easy way to gather that information without admitting the journal had been stolen. He needed to avoid that at all possible costs.

  Before he knew it, he was out of the slums and back onto one of the busy main streets. The citizens of London strolled about lazily, glancing in shops and ignoring the street hawkers pushing the sale of their goods. He trotted down the sidewalk toward his destination, plagued by his thoughts. If his employer gleaned that he had lost the journal, things wouldn’t end well for him. This was a job he simply could not fail. He would have to think of an excuse to buy himself some time until Liliana could complete the formulae. If she could complete the formulae. In the mean time, they’d find out information on the masked man. He knew a few places to start, but unfortunately, that would position him to owe a few favors in the process.

  He hurried through the market district until the crowds thinned and he was left looking at bleak office buildings filled with lawyers, accountants, and the like. All upstanding professions he’d never had the slightest bit of interest in. Thief might not be a respectable vocation, but at least it wasn’t boring. He frowned as his thoughts turned back to Liliana, and the absurd notion of her becoming a thief. He doubted she knew what she was asking, but did it matter? Probably. He’d continually repeated to himself that she wasn’t a real person, but then why did she have wants and desires just like any normal human? Why would she care about her purpose, if she didn’t have real emotions? Why would she care about anything?

  The answers to all his questions eluded him. Perhaps she really did have a soul. He was no alchemist, so who was he to say what was or wasn’t possible?

  He took a deep breath as he left the rows of office buildings behind to enter a wealthy residential district. The wealthy residential district. The rows of mansions were referred to by most as White Heights, though the name wasn’t official. Anyone who was anyone lived along the well-maintained cobblestone streets, all bordered by tall, ornate iron fences, painted a uniform white to match the mansions they guarded.

  Arhyen paused as he reached his destination and straightened his tan coat, its pockets filled with knives and other means of distraction should he need to escape danger. He looked up at the imposing white gates and the green grass beyond them. Though he was dressed to fit in with the wealthier class, even out on the street he felt out of place. No matter how much time he spent among the upper classes, he always felt like a fraud.

  His stomach growled as he considered his options. He only then remembered his sandwich, but it was too late to eat it now. He wasn’t about to enter the imposing mansion with condiments and bread crumbs smeared across his face.

  With a hiss of steam, the gate swung inward, seemingly of its own volition. Someone had obviously spotted him from within the mansion, and had pulled the lever to open the steam-powered gates. Forgetting about his sandwich, Arhyen began his journey up the long, white gravel driveway, bordered by perfectly manicured green grass. In front of the mansion he could see a shiny black automotive, a new invention, limited strictly to the wealthy. Automotives were coal-powered, the same concept as trains, though they didn’t require rails to guide them. He’d never ridden in one, and probably never would.

  His heart was racing by the time he reached the end of the long driveway, to stand beside the automotive and the mansion’s ornate double doors. He’d taken a few steps toward the gleaming wood of the door, when it swung inward, revealing a female automaton in traditional black and white maid’s garb. The girl seemed nothing like Liliana, staring at him with entirely blank eyes beneath her blonde bangs. Her face was so lifeless, it could have been made of porcelain. She stood aside and gestured silently for him to enter.

  He did as he was bade. His silent boots padded across the gold-flecked marble floor until he reached the middle of the grand entry room. An ornate staircase, almost as wide as his entire apartment, loomed before him.

  The man he’d come to meet glided down the stairs in his ivory suit, sliding a hand down the narrow lapels of his short jacket. His blue eyes sparkled behind thin-rimmed, gold spectacles. His cream-colored loafers, likely more expensive than the automotive outside, squeaked on the immaculate tile floor as he came to stand before Arhyen. His name was Clayton Blackwood, and he was one of the most powerful men in London. He was born into nobility, but that had little to do with the power he held. He was an investor of sorts, and scoured the world over for new inventions to fund. Unfortunately, the actual inventors often ended up losing out on the deal. Sometimes they even lost their lives. As if the money of new inventions wasn’t already enough, he also owned several steel mills, and had stock in the railroads.

  “Did you find it?” Clayton asked, smoothing back his short, golden hair with a smooth flick of his wrist. He’d likely rehearsed the movement countless times in the mirror.

  “I found many things,” Arhyen answered with a sly grin, feigning confidence. “It may take me a few days to sort through them, but once I find a match for the sample you provided, I’ll bring it straight here. I simply came to report that my venture to the hidden compound was a success.”

  Clayton frowned, instantly crumpling his facade of good cheer. “Bring all of the materials to me,” he demanded. “I will sort them myself.”

  Arhyen did his best to keep his breathing even. “If that is your wish . . . ” he trailed off. “I don’t mind skipping the task of sorting through countless journals, covered in dust, mold, and other unmentionables. Why, I’m sure my hands would be black with filth by the time I finished.”

  At the small, nervous twitch of Clayton’s immaculately groomed hands, Arhyen knew he had him. Clayton Blackwood was terrified of all forms of filth, which was ironic considering his hands were metaphorically more dirty than any of the vagrants the man so utterly detested.

  “Fine,” Clayton snapped. “But be quick about it.”

  Arhyen nodded, glad he’d decided against questioning his employer on whom he might have told about the journal.

  Clayton waved a hand carelessly at the automaton. “See Monsieur Croft to the door,” he ordered, though the door was only about two yards away. With that, he turned and glided back up the stairs, pausing on the fourth or fifth step to look over his should at Arhyen.

  “And Arhyen?” he said softly.

  Arhyen looked up at him.

  “You know what happens when my employees fail,” he muttered ominously.

  Arhyen replied with a bow of his head. Yes, he knew exactly what happened when employees of Clayton Blackwood failed. They became one with the dirt their employer so utterly despised.

  As the automaton maid saw him out, he thought once again of Liliana. If he was unable to recover the original journal, his life would quite literally depend on her.
He hoped she’d been made with an excellent memory. If not, his illustrious thieving career might soon come to a grisly end.

  Chapter 5

  Liliana sat on the couch, glancing anxiously back at the loaf of bread on the counter. Would it be rude for her to try a bite? The chocolate cake she’d had earlier had been divine, and she couldn’t help but wonder what other tastes were out there for her to try. She’d looked through Arhyen’s books, and found many she hoped to read, but had resisted, fearing she’d be caught in the process. She’d also found many items around the apartment that she’d never seen before, and desperately wanted to inquire about their function, especially the items that had been removed from his pockets. Some she recognized as weapons, but others, tiny glass capsules filled with various shades of liquid, she’d never seen before.

  A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She froze, unsure of what to do. Arhyen had instructed her not to open the door for anyone. She waited for several heartbeats, then the knock sounded again. She stared at the closed door. The knock sounded a third time.

  “Time to pay up!” a voice shouted from outside.

  She jumped at the sudden shout, then let out a long breath. She recognized that voice. It was Arhyen’s associate from the previous night, the one who’d gained them access to the city. Arhyen had said not to open the door for anyone, but did this man count? He’d helped them back at the gates. What if he could help them some more? He’d known those who guarded the city gates, so did that mean he was a detective or officer of some sort? Would not answering the door make her a lawbreaker?

  The man grumbled something under his breath. She could tell he was about to leave. Not taking the time to consider her actions any further, she leapt from the couch and raced toward the door, careful to hop over the ankle-height wire still strung tight near the threshold.

  She fumbled with the various locks until the door swung inward.