Of Steel and Steam

by Pauline Creeden et al.

  “How do they know?” I whispered and gestured to the sweeping peoples in the courtyard. “How do they know what to do?”

  Night lounged on our shared seat, as though he had the whole plush armchair to himself. His face looked bored.

  “Many of them will be familiar with the game. Those who aren’t will either recognise sprinkled clues for what they are, or be victim to the game’s phases.”

  “Phases?” I gave him a doubtful look.

  “There are stages to the game,” he explained. “The players who do not reach the next stage before their time cuts out are ejected—into Spades.”

  My shoulders slumped, skin still prickled from the voice that had crept all around me like bony fingers ready to steal my soul. So I couldn’t hope to be thrown from the Hatterthon, as I would only land in Spades, not my home.

  Night’s long legs stretched out in front of him, one arm draped over the back of my chair.

  “Not a fan of the story?” he asked, eyes glued to the side of my face. “This can’t be the first time you’ve heard this version.”

  Though people began to thread through the court, looking for a hint of their next move, I couldn’t tear my eyes from the wall where the stage had been.

  “You don’t believe it?” I asked.

  A ghostly smile danced over his lips but never quite took. “I believe the Queen of Hearts is a cruel woman, and the people of Hearts invent stories to give themselves hope. In this tale, the heir made it out alive. That gives the people hope that the heir will return and save them. One event will have a dozen stories to it.”

  “Stories like the ones about the Sisters?” I levelled his unreadable gaze and arched my brow. “I didn’t believe in the Sisters. But I was still afraid of them growing up … and all my life.” I cleared my throat and tangled my sweaty fingers together. “Turns out they’re real, and I’m stuck with strangers in a game I don’t understand, and I have no idea what to do.”

  A blush warmed my face. I shared more than I wanted to. It was beginning, and at the worst time too—the silliness.

  Getting boy-silly in this game was not a winning strategy.

  If Night cared about my embarrassment, he didn’t show it. To my slight relief, he acted as though I hadn’t splurged secrets at all.

  Night leaned back in his chair and looked to the growing throngs of people wandering around the court. Beneath the darkness of the sky, shadows licked up his face but they seemed to belong, as though his ghostly pale was home to them. The sharpness of his pallor only darkened his eyes into pools of secrets, swarming like the sheen of plum blood on a hot day.

  “What we do,” he said, turning his gaze to me, “is play the game.”

  “What game?” I said, and threw my hands up. “Watching plays? Are we supposed to find the heir?”

  Night drew closer and spoke lowly near my ear, his breath tickling my skin. “Nothing that extreme, not this early on.”

  I swallowed, hard.

  He was so close that I could smell the peppermint chocolate again. But I didn’t pull away, not even as his side pressed against mine and shot jolts of excitement through me.

  Night shifted his gaze around the other players, and I knew he didn’t want to be overheard. So I fought the urge to recoil, and planted myself in his aura.

  “First, look for the smaller things that stand out,” he said lowly. “Mistakes in the performance, mismatched drapes, jesters out of place. You’ll move further in the game from there.”

  Scratching my tingling ear, I frowned at him. “How would you know that?”

  Night considered me for a moment. “This isn’t my first time in Spades.”

  My breath caught in my throat before words rushed out of me; “You’ve been here before?”

  “Some time ago. It’s a long, dull story, but I can’t say the experience doesn’t have me at an advantage.”

  “You know how to play,” I said, realising with a blanket of disappointment. His advantage would be my disadvantage.

  “I didn’t play.”

  His gloved hand tightened on his knee. Barely noticeable. But I’d been in enough spars and fights to see a tell anywhere.

  “I fell into a nearby town in Spades,” he added, “not too far from the Hatterthon. A local helped me find my way out, but not before I saw enough of the game to understand it.”

  Hope spurred inside of me and shoved me closer to him. Our sides were pushed so tightly together now that all tingles of excitement popped into a pain at my hipbone. “There’s a way out?”

  “Not inside the game. We’re trapped here until the game decides to offer us an escape. Usually, that offer comes when you least want it.”

  I could taste the faint flavour of peppermint chocolate on his breath. It drew my eyes to his lips for a beat. The bow of his upper lip dipped enough for me to wonder what it would be like to kiss him. It wouldn’t be a fumble of plush mouths battling. It would be a lock—a perfect, soft and tender fit.

  Night’s mouth pulled out of my view and yanked me back to myself. With a face redder than the blood back at the village, I shifted away from him.

  Entirely oblivious—or entirely disinterested—Night said, “If you want to make it out of Spades, you have to play the game. We might as well play together,” he added. “In this game, there’s safety in allies.”

  I blinked at him. “I don’t know where to start, what to do—or anything about the Hatterthon. Can’t be much help to you.”

  “I know enough for the both of us,” he said. “And you’ll help me in other ways.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “By other ways, you mean what?”

  “Even the sight of a pair can scare off competitors. That alone is helpful. We can make it safely between parks in the playground. With our skills, I bet we’ll make quite the pair.”

  Reluctantly, I gave a stiff nod.

  Unless I found Lock in the game, there wasn’t much else of a choice. Alone and without my sight, I doubted I would fare well. But with someone who’d seen the game play out before, my hope blossomed from a shrivelled bud to a wilted flower.

  It was the best option I had, and we both knew it. Maybe he knew it better than he should—that I needed him.

  Chewing on my thoughts, I scanned the court.

  Jesters swarmed the stone like ants on a sugar pile. They dangled from silver hoops, and soared above on thick ribbons, and juggled fiery balls.

  The performance was over, but the entertainment didn’t stop.

  I watched a jester cartwheel, another who disappeared in a cloud of smoke, before I settled on one hunched behind a pillar. Through the blur, I could barely make him out, but I saw enough to know that he hugged his knees to his chest and buried his face in his crossed arms

  “You wore spectacles before,” said Night.

  I realised he was studying me. I rubbed my sore eyes.

  “Have you lost them?” he asked.

  “They were stolen by the Sisters.”

  Night said, “Sometimes the price of entry seems too steep. But everything can be earned back.”

  At this, my spine stiffened. “How?”

  Night sighed a quiet sound, his eyes boring into each and every jester, as though he could catch even the most fleeting shutter of exasperation on their painted faces. His sight was another reason for me to team up with him, even if only for a short while.

  “People live here,” he told me. “This isn’t just a land of dangerous games. These jesters live in Spades. Vendors, carriage drivers, even the food servers—they are all from this place. You might think they are putting on a show for us, but it’s the opposite. They are watching us perform. All of Spades is watching, even those within the game,” he said, and threw a lazy gesture to a hovering white globe above us. “They’ll have favourites soon. And should you be a favourite of anyone, they might send you a gift.”

  Understanding settled on my face. “Like my glasses.”

  “Yes.” He gestured to the farthest pillar
where I’d noticed the hunched jester. “Look at him and remember this—everything they do is for the show. But we’re the ones performing.”

  I fumbled around for the binoculars. It took me a few wasted moments to realise they were gone. All of them, vanished from the seats. With a sigh, I screwed my brows together and focused, hard, on the jester. Every few seconds his back and shoulders twitched.

  “I think ...” I paused to study the jester a beat longer. “I mean, I might be wrong but I think he’s crying.”

  “Don’t doubt yourself,” said Night. “Confidence is key to championship. Look closer.”

  Through the pain, I searched the sobbing jester for any signs of difference. He wore the same clothes as the others, his face was painted with just as much white and black, and—his head of chestnut hair sat atop him like a wild bush.

  “He’s not wearing a hat.”

  A small smile tugged his lips to one side. That same flutter from back at the marketplace tickled my belly.

  I thought of his mentor badge that he must have lost somewhere between the attack and the Hatterthon.

  Were all of his novices in the tournament tickled in the stomach at even the slightest hint of his approval? It might have just been his touch of lazy danger, the distance behind the veil of his capturing eyes—or it might have been that when he smiled, his cheeks dipped as if carved from stone, strengthening the cutting lines of his jaw and cheekbones.

  Stop!

  If I was going to ally with Night, I had to bottle up my attraction to him, fast. Some things were more dangerous than fights and blades, like a man with a face meant to break girls’ hearts.

  I cleared my throat and twisted my fingers on my lap.

  “Now where could it be?” At my confused look, he flicked his hand, gesturing to the balcony above. “The jester’s hat.”

  I followed his aim to the balcony. Silhouettes slinked up and down, moving like shadows, and others scurried like mice. One silhouette caught my eye with his dark and pale face.

  With the distance between us and my missing glasses, it was hard to tell, but I could have sworn he wore a mask. Not face paint, a black mask that covered his eyes and tied around his head. The shadowy wisp of a man heaved a dark sack over his shoulder.

  “What’s he doing?” I wondered aloud.

  “My guess would be stealing.” Night’s trained gaze stayed on the masked man all the way down the balcony. “A hat, perhaps.”

  I made to respond, but a low hum cut me off and I flinched, expecting a wasp to whizz on by. It wasn’t a wasp.

  Bemused, Night watched me unwind from my cringe, then touched his gaze to something above me.

  I looked up.

  It was the globe Night had gestured to before. Bright white, not unlike the ones that followed contestants in the tournament of Hearts. They sent what they saw to the glass walls surrounding the city for the people to watch.

  I turned back to Night.

  Night, a stranger with no reason to ally with me, or hold true to his word. Night, a stranger who happened to appear at the perfect time and lure me in. A most convenient ally.

  “The hatless jester holds feathers in his hands,” said Night, cutting through my thoughts. “That is our second clue, perhaps where we might find the thief.”

  “We’ll find the thief with a peacock?”

  Night studied me with those cold, distant eyes of his. There was mockery in his gaze, an ancient and strained twist that spoke more of a grimace. “Or at the animal barn.”

  Ignoring the burn of my cheeks, I looked around and asked, “Is there a map?”

  “Through there,” he said, and pointed to the curtained booth in the corner.

  I hadn’t noticed before. I put it down to my missing glasses and that the booth melted in with the curtains I’d come through.

  Night said, “One button for admission.”

  “I gave my only button to the jester when I came in.”

  Night gestured to my skirt. “Check your pocket.”

  He proved himself a valuable ally with that one suggestion. In my pocket, I found a small leather pouch full of colourful buttons, some halved, some smaller than my pinkie nail, and others that could fit snugly in the palm of my callused hand.

  “It’s the true currency of Spaces,” he said. “Spend them only when you need to.”

  “Did everyone get them?”

  “Does it matter?” Night pushed up from the seat and held out his hand. “We really should go if we’re to play the game, not observe. I suggest we start with the feathers.”

  I stood from the chair, snubbing his hand, and swatted the globe away. It didn’t respect personal boundaries. It followed us all the way to the jester who handed us each a peacock feather, then to the booth. It waited outside while we checked the playground’s map—which stole my breath.

  The playground was bigger than I could have ever imagined. A hundred times the size of my village—big enough for a grand jester court, a circus, a carnival, an underground library, a ballet house (though, I hadn’t the faintest clue what a ballet house actually was), and a haunted forest.

  I was suddenly glad I was sent to the jester court…

  The haunted forest wasn’t the only spooky area on the map. There were two castles—one was the castle of poison, the other, the castle of death. Neither sounded too friendly.

  An entire lake was sketched onto the map, and on the lake were pirate ships—I wouldn’t sleep a wink in the midst of pirates. And from the sketch of the lake, it didn’t look like the rocky waters, with sharks and massive tentacles reaching out, was all that safe either.

  The jester court wasn’t so bad—not if I only had to do three things in this game. Three simple things.

  Survive.

  Find and follow clues.

  Win.

  That was the aim. The goal. If it was the prize, I didn’t know, but going home was prize enough for me.

  Night was my only way out of the game.

  Together, we left the court and headed for the circus—the likeliest place to find an animal barn in the whole playground.

  I kept my dagger close to my hand the entire walk. It was a small comfort.

  I followed the wolf into the dangerous folds of the game.

  Chapter 8

  The flutter in my belly turned cold. It was no longer meant for Night and his fleeting dark smiles, but for my home. The walk to the circus was too long, and my thoughts wandered to the attack on the village.

  Heart-Breakers had fought that battle before, before my time and on the same land. A brutal band of rebels, born of the right ideals, only to have evolved into what they fought against.

  Marybelle once said that the Heart-Breakers did what Hearts needed—they fought fire with fire. But I’d always thought that silly. Fire and fire make blazes.

  If the Heart-Breakers fought fire with water instead, they might have won the first war. Now, I was left wondering what the second war would cost, and if there was even a village for me to go back to.

  Night cut through my thoughts. “We’re almost there.”

  After we turned the curve that twisted the bloodied road, I traced his gaze to the hill ahead. My fingers tightened around the stem of the peacock feather.

  Around us, the trees began to thin, then vanish. In their place fell curtains of vines and thick green leaves.

  The closer we got, the thicker the salty air became. Not the same salty air from Crooked Grove. This air was fresh, heavy with the weight of magic, delicious with the flavour of popped corn. And just as the circus came into view, I felt the hit of magic pulsing over me.

  The hill glittered like the navy-blue sky above, and at its tallest tip sat a black and red tent, bigger than any house or shop in Crooked Grove.

  Little dots lined behind the tent like a tail.

  I squinted against the dark until the dots cleared, taking the oddest shapes. They were small shops and stalls, I realised.

  One looked like a blue top-hat
, another a glittery beanie. There were pink berets and orange bowler hats and even a silver-belled jester hat halfway down the hill.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said. “I’ve never seen anything so … alive.”

  The words barely made it out of my mouth before Night grabbed my arm and tore me off the road.

  I glared up at him, but my surprise quickly gave way as a carriage went charging past us, driven by an eager jester who bit down on his protruding tongue, as though he thought himself in a race.

  I shrugged off Night’s hold and trailed the tracks of the wobbly carriage.

  “No need to thank me,” he said.

  “I wouldn’t have almost been run down if we’d taken a carriage,” I said sharply. “And we wouldn’t be wasting all this time on a trek.”

  A dark glint sharpened his eyes. “Carriage rides are tricks to flush lazy players out of their buttons. Only those who have a chance at winning will be left in the game…and those who would do anything for more buttons.”

  I made to ask how buttons could be of any value, but my mind answered first; Buttons cover food and accommodation, and we must pay to play.

  We walked the rest of the way in silence, and the watch-globe drifted closely behind. When we reached the foot of the hill, all doubts I’d ever had of the Hatterthon’s trickery was banished in a blink.

  Up close, the glittering colours of the circus were shredded to ghosts of grey and blacks, and the sweet aromas turned sour and rotten.

  The hat-shaped stalls that lined the uphill path weren’t as pretty as they’d been from afar. They were all empty. Just squatting there like lumpy boulders. No trinkets or snacks to buy or games to play, no vendors, popcorn to gorge myself on.

  I shivered. “It’s a ghost village. Where are all the other players?”

  “More will come.” Night looked unfazed by the creepiness around us as he adjusted his leather gloves. “Some will be tracking other leads. There was more than one clue in the courtyard.”

  We found our way around the tent, where a gloomy barn was planted onto the dirt, between little tufts of grass. Night held open the creaky door and I dipped inside before him.

  He might have kept me on edge with his veiled darkness and dangerous eyes, but I was coming to like to his gentlemanly ways.