Of Steel and Steam

by Pauline Creeden et al.

  At home, the best you could expect of a guy was a flask of karvka at the tavern before a fumbled roll.

  Maybe that was why I fell into my work so entirely and found better friends in animals than the villagers.

  The animals stole my attention in the barn as well.

  Horses chewed on hay in their stalls, roosters clucked and waddled in a waist-high pen, and an elephant sat in the farthest corner with a newspaper spread out before it.

  Night steered my attention to the dark corner of the barn, where a woman sat at a messy vanity table.

  She caught sight of us in the mirror and turned on the stool.

  At first glance, I thought a flash of fear lit up her eyes, but when I blinked, any hint of it was gone, and she forced an ugly smile.

  I bit down on my cheeks to stop myself from gasping. Black glitter took the shape of a star on her cheek, but it was twisted and mangled. Like a branch from the Crooked Woods, a scar stretched across her cheek and puckered against the black glitter that poorly concealed it.

  “The first to arrive!” The performer spread her arms in welcome. “I’m Star, the animal carer of the circus. Do you have anything for me?”

  I waved the peacock feather through the air, but Night just dropped his feather onto a bench and wandered his gaze around, searching for his next clue.

  Star’s face shuttered with that same hint of unease I’d glimpsed before, but like then, she hid it with a grin and rose from the seat.

  “Tell us about your peacocks,” said Night as he wandered.

  Star stood, the glitter on her cheek crinkled by her great, unnatural smile.

  “Of course, over here, this way.” She ushered me to the closed pen.

  Night didn’t join us.

  “If you look inside, you’ll see the divide has already formed,” began Star.

  I’d never seen a peacock before then. They were mentioned in the forbidden tales I sometimes read under the candlelight in my bedroom, but to see one of the majestic birds up close was—

  “Amazing,” I said. “They’re so colourful!”

  Star agreed with a vigorous nod, then dived into her scripted speech about the stunning beasts.

  I looked to Night for his reaction, but he was over by the vanity desk, fingering through the open bags and shawls.

  I turned back to Star and hunched over the fence.

  Soon, I hung on every word the animal carer said. A dreamy smile lifted up the corners of my lips and I rested my chin on my folded arms.

  Star told all about their mating rituals, their gender divides, and even the aggressive streaks in the males.

  I was so enchanted that when Night came up behind me, my muscles jumped in fright.

  “See that man by the door?” he whispered. “He’s too wary to enter the barn. Our alliance is already warding off lone players.”

  Gaze on the peacocks, I mumbled, “Is that a good thing?”

  “It gives us the chance to find our clues first, and delays others in the game.”

  I just hummed, unwilling to look over my shoulder at a man we intimidated, who likely wanted what I did—to go home.

  “Another advantage of our alliance,” he added, “is that I’m here to let you know you’ve been lured.”

  With a frown, I rested my cheek on my folded arms and squinted up at him. “What?”

  “Star is distracting you,” he said, and I noticed that even with accusation in the air, Star didn’t even pause her speech about the peacocks. “You gave her the feather, now go find your next clue.”

  Before I could say anything, he drew away and went back to the vanity desk.

  I strolled in the opposite direction. Covering more ground.

  My wanderings took me the horse stall, where a silhouette leaned against the wooden post.

  At first, I thought he was another contestant, but as I neared and my sight sharpened, I realised he was a performer—the performer. The masked thief from the court.

  Blond hair licked down his temples and curled at his ears, skin so white that if he didn’t move, I might’ve thought him a marble statue. A skin-tight, black costume wrapped around his slender body and hugged every smooth, subtle muscle.

  I watched as he stroked a brown horse’s neck soothingly.

  As if sensing my gaze, he turned to look at me with silver eyes so striking that they reminded me of lightning storms in a clouded sky.

  I flushed and pretended to be interested in the horned hogs at the pen closest to me. After a short wait, I chanced another glance at the masked thief.

  He was leaning back against the post now, his arms folded over his chest, making no effort to hide that he stared right at me. He tossed a cherry into his mouth, then grinned a wicked smile that had my cheeks burning hotter than before.

  I rushed away, fast as I could, and found Night by the vanity desk. He held a black bunch of fabric in his hand, and picked through boxes of animal hairbrushes and shampoos against the wall.

  Night held out the black fabric.

  “Here,” he said. “The jester’s hat. Take it back to the court.”

  Hesitantly, I took it and ran my fingertips over the smooth velvet. “What about your clue?”

  “I’ll find another,” he said, and looked at me over his shoulder. “We’ll meet in the morning at the arch.”

  I stuffed the hat into my pocket and gave an awkward nod goodbye. After a lingering, cold stare, Night turned his back to me.

  When the barn door shut behind me, the weight of how alone I was in the game crashed down on me.

  Night was my ally, but not my friend. We would part in the game sometimes. We would share at first, but what about later? What would happen when the stakes were higher and the clues fewer?

  Looking up, I saw that I wasn’t entirely alone. A watch-globe buzzed over my head like a stalker-bee. It followed me all the way down the hill to the row of carriages.

  I jolted to a stop at the foot of the hill. The watch-globe struck the back of my head and faltered in the air.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  Right there on the footpath, ready to climb into a carriage, was someone who slashed through the thick feeling of loneliness I carried with me, and dragged me into a warm, familiar embrace.

  I started for him.

  He turned just I smacked into his chest, my arms flinging around him. The force of my hug almost took him off his feet. But in his true spirit he didn’t complain.

  He only wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me back.

  “Miss me, Rose?” he chuckled into my hair.

  “More than you know, Lock.”

  Chapter 9

  Lock untangled my arms from around his waist.

  He drew back to study me with that crooked grin of his. “How is it I knew you would be here?”

  “I was going to say the same thing.” I pushed his shoulder to fight off my relief, but it was a shove he saw through as easily as one could see through the glass walls of Hearts. “That’s why I chose the Hatterthon. I knew you couldn’t resist the thrill of the game.”

  “Yeah, me and half of Crooked Grove,” he said, his hand lingering on my arm, as if afraid to let me go. “Did you see how many of us the Heart-Breakers forced down the well? Even those two fat boys from the bakery are here. Maple, too.”

  “Maple’s here?” My voice hiked up a pitch at the thought. Maple, fighting her way through a dangerous game, walking blood-stained brick roads. She didn’t have a chance. “Poor thing.”

  Lock grunted. “Did those ghastly Sisters take your glasses, then?”

  Instinctively, I touched my fingers to my nose. It felt strange to connect with skin and not the hard bridge of my glasses. “They did, but I snagged myself a second pair of eyes.”

  Lock raised his brow.

  “Remember the tournament instructor who bought the sapphire dagger?” I smiled under his burst of scrutiny. “He’s helping me.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Still
up in the circus. We’re meeting again in the morn.”

  Lock considered this for a moment, then gave me a proud smile.

  “Use him for as long as you need to.” He took my hands in his. “But no matter what, we don’t leave this game without each other.”

  “Never.”

  In a blink I was back in his arms.

  The carriage driver waited patiently for us to climb in.

  We headed to the jester court. Lock’s clue led there too.

  The whole ride, we combed through every detail of the rebel’s attack on our village. It brought us no closer to home. The cold reality of it was, we wouldn’t know what happened to Marybelle and Augustus until we returned.

  When we arrived at the court, Lock drank in its hollow darkness with the same face as when he downed karvka too quickly.

  “You’re keeping your dagger close, I hope,” Lock said as he drew closer to the drapes. “This place doesn’t look the least bit inviting.”

  “Says the guy who once slept in the alley behind the tavern.” I eyed his dark profile, shadowed by worry. “Where are you staying?”

  “Oh, you would love it, Rose.” Lock threw me a knowing smile. “I’m staying at the library. Well, under it. The rooms are made of these smelly, old books.”

  I wondered why I hadn’t been dropped near the library. It was better suited to me and my love for forbidden tales. Lock was far more like a jester than me.

  “So this is it,” Lock said as we pushed through the last of the heavy curtains and stepped into the courtyard.

  It was nothing like before.

  The courtyard was drained of all vibrance and fun, and echoed with the same neglect that the circus had.

  There were three jesters left in the courtyard—the hatless one, who wept by the pillar; a jester who wore a fresh face without costume make-up; and the third, who tried to recite lines to himself, only to stumble over his words and curse.

  The rest of the jesters were nowhere to be seen.

  Even the players had thinned out to a scattered five, wandering the balconies above, searching for their rooms, and one fast asleep on the seats.

  “It looked better when I got here,” I said. “Less … haunted.”

  Lock nudged me. “I meant this is it for us.”

  I swerved my stare to him. “What?”

  “Our clues lead in different directions, Rose. And we’re staying at different places.” He ducked to squeeze me with a fleeting hug. “Be safe, and I’ll see you soon.”

  With that, he jogged up the grand staircase and chased his lead down a gloomy corridor.

  I sighed and dragged myself over to the weeping jester. Dropping to my knees beside him, I dug out the hat from my skirt pocket and offered it to him.

  “I think you’re missing this.”

  He peered up at me with smudged black-painted eyes and sniffed. I watched as he ran his fingers of the silver bells, then lit up with a dazzling grin.

  “Thank you, thank you!” he squealed. “My precious hat. What do you want for it?”

  “My next clue.”

  “All I have is this.” Weakly, he offered a bunched pouch, fastened with a single string of twine. “It’s all I can give.”

  I buried the pouch in my skirt pocket, where it bulged alongside the button purse.

  Before I could straighten out my legs, the jester had tugged on his hat and cartwheeled across the courtyard to the arch. He vanished into the night.

  I wondered where’d gone to and if the rest of the absent jesters had gone there too. Did they become vendors? Carriage-drivers? Or the audience to our miserable performance?

  Now, there was only the jester who poorly recited his lines, and the wandering one without make-up.

  Night had better hurry if he was to have a chance at moving further in the game. Tasks were being completed all over the courtyard, and I hadn’t even found my room yet.

  I removed the brass key from my pocket and turned it over in my hand. A chipped black number glared up at me from under the sharp moonlight.

  I went off in search of room 36. Predictably, it was on the third floor, three corridors away from the main balcony overlooking the courtyard.

  But there was no keyhole to put the key. In fact, there was no door at all, only a tangle of silk and sheer drapes between me and my room.

  I slid them to the side.

  Layers of them blocked my path, wool and velvet, lace and cotton. I ducked into the onslaught of fabric and waved my hands wildly to wade my way through. Some of the silk hems clung to my ankles as I shoved through, and the velvet drapes fell down on me in heavy blankets.

  It was getting harder to push through them, like they had a mind of their own and they weren’t so welcoming to me.

  And they weren’t.

  If I didn’t know any better, I would have sworn that the curtains clutched onto my ankle and yanked me off my feet on purpose.

  But as I hit the ground with a thud, I had to stop myself from taking my dagger to the drapes.

  I worked on the material fastened around my legs and peeled them apart.

  My attention was snatched by a rustle—my gaze found the hem of the papery curtain.

  A mouse scurried out from under it.

  I was a blacksmith, a fighter, and one hell of a swordsperson. But mice had a way of making my skin crawl.

  Panic surged through me. I thrashed in the drapes, clawing my way out of them. “Get off! Get off! Get off!”

  The mouse screamed. I screamed, kicking out my legs in a frenzy.

  Then the mouse huffed and doubled over, its tiny paw pressed against its chest.

  “You stupid human!” The mouse glowered at me. “What a fright you gave me!”

  My screams choked into stunned silence, and I just stared at the scruffy rodent.

  The mouse leaned closer, her whiskers twitching. “What are you doing on the floor, all tied up?”

  “I…” My voice came out in raspy breaths. “I … tripped.”

  A dubious glint sparked in her eye. “Maybe if you weren’t so large, you wouldn’t have tripped. Did you ever think about that?”

  I blinked at the mouse. Mostly, I stared stupidly at her pink beret.

  “No, I bet you didn’t. You beasts never think much, do you? All fight, no brains is what my wife says.”

  Slowly, I dragged my legs out of the drapes and turned onto my belly. Not once did I let my eyes stray from the mean mouse.

  She jabbed her clawed finger at me and hissed, “I was never here!”

  She dashed under the drapes in a blur.

  I stared at where the mouse vanished for a moment before let a violent shiver run through me.

  Finally, I managed to break free of the curtains and stumble into the room.

  With a plummet of my heart, I realised the room had two beds, pushed against the walls. Between the beds loomed an open archway that led to a small washroom with a copper, claw-footed tub.

  Towels and chamber pots were tucked underneath the beds. I noticed that whoever my roommate might be, she hadn’t arrived yet. I had to hope she would be a girl—otherwise, there was a strong chance I would be sleeping on the courtyard chairs.

  I used the chamber pot and washed my hands and face. But I had to delay my meeting with the copper tub. My stomach rumbled with what felt like acid, and crawled its way up my throat.

  I was starving.

  I couldn’t count the hours between now and the last meal I had.

  For a while, I wandered the jester court in search of food or a dining hall.

  Under the grand staircase, I found a long mahogany table with set dinner places, but it was empty. Not a crumb on a plate. Maybe the table was meant for breakfast only, I thought.

  Rubbing my burning throat, I left the court and stopped at the row of carriages. A few were rolling up the path and I squinted at them through the darkness of the tall trees.

  Without my glasses, aches singed the back of my eyes and strained as far as my
brow. The crunch of the carriage wheels drew closer, but the trees all around shrouded them in shadows.

  I was watching them roll up the brick road when I felt a warm brush of air graze over the nape of my neck, like the pinch of a winter breeze.

  I whipped around just as a dark figure brushed by. Our shoulders grazed; the touch sent prickles down my skin.

  Brow furrowed, I watched the dark figure slink away, moving the way a shadow would, or a ghost in a dream. Black strapped around his form, pale hair curled at the nape of his neck—the only light in the shadow.

  The figure paused and looked over his shoulder at me. A white mask covered half of his porcelain face, and a wicked smirk fit for the ruler of Netherland curved his lips.

  Cloudy, grey eyes smouldered at me from behind the mask, and I could’ve sworn he winked before his smile turned cold.

  I’d been so entranced by the masked man that I didn’t notice the carriages pull up until Night climbed out of the last one.

  He advanced on me.

  His gaze traced mine to the masked man, and I felt the energy around the court shift into something taut and stiff.

  “Keep mind of the performers,” said Night darkly. “They have a knack for stealing as many hearts as they do people from Hearts.”

  Wearing that cruel, mysterious smile of his, the masked thief dipped into the darkness of the trees, a black sack slung over his shoulder. I was absolutely certain that he was the same man I’d seen at the barn.

  “That’s not…” I cleared my throat and met Night’s cold gaze. “I was only trying to see what he was carrying.”

  Night rinsed me over with his dark eyes, then took a step closer to the arch. “I’ll be done in a few moments. If you’ll wait, I can take you to the glade.”

  “What’s in the glade?” I asked, torn between the thought of the narrow bed waiting in my room and the hope of stuffing my belly full of berries, pies and breads—if I could find them.

  As if reading my mind, Night made my decision for me. “Food.”

  I nodded.

  Night dipped through the drapes.

  He was loyal to his word and met me outside within minutes—me, and a patient watch-globe that shone faint, dusty light down on us.