“That’s what I’m thinking of calling it. Be right there.” Sev waited for his dear friend, expecting the sound of the lift. He laughed when Silas leapt from the window Sev had just exited. He landed with surprising grace, obviously more used to the outer-skeleton. He’d redesigned his frame. It didn’t extend his limbs as before; now, it conformed to his body the same as Sev’s.
“Ye redesigned yer skeleton.”
“I can’t very well show up dressed as Kettlebent. They know Kettlebent.”
“I never considered that,” Sev admitted.
“He’s pretty recognizable. How’s it feel?”
“Not bad.” Sev moved his limbs, testing the frame.
“Fancy a race?” Silas asked with a smirk.
“Do I?” Sev responded. “On yer mark.” Sev bent his knees. “Get set.” He rolled onto the balls of his feet.
“Go!” Silas shouted, already on the move.
“Bastard!” Sev spat, springing into action. The heightened strength and speed felt remarkable. He watched Silas’s path and, anticipating his next turn, Sev leapt onto the nearest building, launching himself over it and ahead of Silas. Sev spared a quick glance over his shoulder before he poured on speed. He left Silas behind. Secure in his lead, Sev decided to test his new frame. He leaped into the air with a double kick. Sev soared into the air of Undertown, leaping so high he could see the patterns of rock in the ceiling. Henry swooped alongside him, hooting excitedly. He found the whole experience exhilarating. As the ground rushed up to meet him, he realized when he leapt he hadn’t considered how to land. Instinctively, Sev allowed his body to relax, and he rolled. The frame once again absorbed the impact, impressing Sev even more. He laid on the smooth stone, chuckling and relieved.
“See you at home,” Silas laughed as he strode above Sev.
“Damn.” Sev flipped to a standing position and bounded off after Silas. It only took Sev a moment to catch up with him, and they reached their flat at almost the same time. “That was amazin’.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Silas smiled and hugged his friend. “This will give us an advantage tomorrow.” He released Sev.
“It’s too bad we couldn’t have made one o’these for everyone. We’d be unstoppable.” Sev punched one of the strange carvings, and it cracked.
“I thought about giving the design to Midnight to manufacture for us. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.” Silas shrugged out of his Kettleframe.
Sev imagined Midnight outfitted with one of these frames and shuddered. “That was probably wise,” he observed. Sev was reluctant to take off the skeleton, but he did. Probably not the best idea to sleep in it. He might hurt Silas. He stripped off the rest of his clothes, put out the lamps, and joined Silas for what could potentially be their last night together.
DAWN came too soon the next day, Silas’s alarm clock shocking them out of their shallow sleep. Sev sat up groggily, startled. As consciousness solidified, he realized the import of the day. He and Silas slipped out of the bed. They dressed in silence. As Kettlebent, Silas had always hid his outer-skeleton, and they both put the prosthetic frames on first. Without clothes under it, the frame fit Sev much more comfortably. He finished dressing, and they met their teams at the entrance. It seemed to Sev that the entire population of Undertown had turned up to see them off. “We should say something,” Silas whispered as they surveyed the sea of their allies.
Sev stepped forward. “It’s goin’ t’be a shite-storm today, mates. It’s up to us t’give ’em a kick to the bollocks!” A cheer rippled through the city. “All right, mates. See ye soon.” Sev turned and grabbed the lever opening the doors to the tunnels.
“That got them,” Silas stated. He was wearing his goggles and his overcoat, but he’d abandoned the beard and stovepipe hat.
“It might not’ve been as eloquent as Kildeggan, but I think I made my point.” Sev smiled at his friend. He wore the armored waistcoat and tailored black clothes Midnight had given him what seemed so long ago. Silas nodded, and they filed into the tunnels. They had two hours to get in position for Michaels’s diversion. They followed the tunnel that would bring them out into the Fairside tubes.
Sev and Silas emerged onto the streets of Fairside with their teams. They scanned the area, made certain they weren’t observed, and started along the street. The city appeared abandoned. “Maybe we should split up now,” Sev whispered. Silas was about to respond when the sound of twin auto-carriages interrupted him, one driven by Monty and the other by Madame Beauchamps.
“Get in,” Monty said in his thick French accent. Beauchamps inclined her head. Sev and Silas allowed their teams to load into the carriages, and then each climbed up next to their driver, Sev next to Monty and Silas next to the madam. Sev nodded to Silas, and the auto-carriages parted ways.
“What’s going on, Monty?” Sev asked as they rolled down the street.
“Zhere has been a change of plans, Monsieur Sept. Instead of trying to hide on zhe grounds of zhe palace, Madame Beauchamps and I will wait with your teams outside zhe grounds while you and Monsieur Kettlebent subdue zhe guards. Monsieur Kildeggan thought it would be easier, having studied zhe grounds firsthand last evening.”
“Aye. That’s sound reasonin’. Two people can hide better than twelve. Will Michaels still distract the guards for us?”
“Oui, and zhen he will climb to zhe roof and signal us when it is time for your teams to join you.”
“Sounds good, and they’ll know where to meet us?”
“On opposite sides of zhe grounds zhere are guard stations where you and Monsieur Kettlebent will wait once zhe guards have been dealt with. Zhe teams will meet you zhere.”
“I’m not keen on killin’ all them guards, Monty. They’re just fellas doin’ their jobs. I mean, some of ’em are right bastards, but not all of ’em.”
“Zhat is why Monsieur Kildeggan asked me to get zhis.” Monty held up a wooden box.
“What’s this?” Sev asked, grabbed it, and opened the top. Inside he found a thin black pipe and what looked like a billfold filled with tiny feathered needles.
“Zhat is a blowgun and darts. Zhey are dipped in poison from a toad or fish? I am not so sure. Zhe man I procured zhem from assures me zhey will cause a temporary paralysis. Zhe guards will not be able to move or alert zhe others.”
“Really?” Sev held one of the darts in his gloved hand. “Silas has a set as well?”
“Oui. You must be sure to get it into zhe skin.”
Sev nodded. “This is great, Monty. Thanks.”
Monty patted Sev’s back. “We must all do our part, mon ami.” The carriage chugged along toward the palace.
As they approached, Sev saw what looked like a city of tents, a sort of palace made of canvas towering out of the palace gardens. “Bloody hell,” he gasped.
“I forgot you have not yet seen zhe royal tent. You have been under zhe ground.”
“Why didn’t we hear about this?” Sev wondered aloud.
“Zhey erected it in just a few days, but zhe seamstresses have been working without pause for months. Zhere has been a team of tinkerers constructing large heaters to feed hot air into zhe structure.”
“Living underground, ye tend t’forget about weather and temperature and all that,” Sev explained. “That’s a bloody monstrosity.” The canvas wasn’t simply white either. It had been dyed with all manner of royal hues and embroidered with the royal seal. Flags flapped from the cloth ramparts. It reminded Sev of the old faires or a circus. Circus, he thought. Definitely a bloody circus.
“Zhere are men patrolling zhe outside of zhe tents. You must take zhem out first, zhen move inside.”
“This should be interestin’, Monty.”
“Oui. Zhat it should.” As Monty drove the carriage along Piccadilly, Sev got a look at the sea of citizens pressed together outside the gates of the palace, eager for a look at the upper crust. It turned out they had opened the wall between Fairside and Blackside for the day. Fairg
ate wanted as big a spectacle as he could wring from the country. The general chaos would definitely benefit their efforts. Carriages arrived in droves, horse-drawn and steam-powered. One of the guests even arrived in a carriage drawn by steam-powered horses.
Eventually Monty parked the auto-hansom on Chapel Street. The Frenchman informed Sev the other team would be parked on Wilton. Sev spoke to his team, briefing them on what he’d learned. “Bonne chance, mon ami,” Monty said.
“Merci,” Sev answered and dashed off.
SEV walked briskly along Chapel Street, then crossed Grosvenor Place and entered the trees bordering the royal gardens. Just before he emerged from the tree cover, he swept his gaze around, catching Silas’s stare to his right. Silas signaled, smiled, and indicated he would travel southeast while Sev covered the southwest. Sev nodded. He wanted to blow Silas a kiss, but didn’t. He didn’t want to appear a ponce, not that anyone could see. They crept off in opposite directions.
Sev slipped back into the tree cover and stepped carefully through the underbrush. He didn’t have to wait long to find a Steamcoat patrolling the perimeter. Sev pulled out the blowgun and loaded a dart into it, waiting for the man to turn back toward him. The metal-suited guards wore full military uniforms underneath, and that meant very little exposed skin. Luckily for Sev, the steam-suits gave off a great deal of heat, and the guards often wore their coats open at the neck. Sev aimed the gun and shot. The dart pinged off one of the metal struts and startled the soldier. He looked about for the source of the sound. Seeing Sev in the trees, he shouted, “You there!” Sev took the opportunity to load the dart gun once more and fired a second shot, catching the man directly in the neck. He reached up to touch the wound, mumbled something Sev couldn’t hear, and then slumped in his suit. The suits were built in such a way that the soldier remained standing despite his paralysis. Sev left the man staring in shock at the trees.
Sev spent the next thirty minutes incapacitating the outer guards. He eventually reached the junction of the ceremonial tent and the wall of the palace. Sev assumed guests would disembark at the main gates and then walk in grand procession through the palace, the courtyard, through the palace again, and then into the tent. That meant all the guards on this side of the palace outside the tent were taken care of. Good, Sev thought. The coast would be clear for their teams to enter the grounds once the signal was given.
A sudden commotion excited the crowd at the front gates. Sev wondered if that was Michaels’s distraction. He started back toward the center of the wall of the tent where he suspected the guard station to be located. Sev lifted the bottom of the tent and peeked under. He’d overshot the guard station by twenty feet or so. The station consisted of a raised wooden room with windows on three sides and a small walkway running around the outside. Stairs ran up the side. Sev could feel the heat on the skin of his face from the machines heating the tent.
In the small space he could see, there stood a plentiful collection of flower arrangements, potted plants, and decorative statues. Of course the royal couple spared no expense. A guard stood in the station, still and vigilant, watching over the proceedings. From what Sev could see, there was no snow within the tent, and the lawn appeared a luxurious green. He wondered if Fairgate had used his magic to make it so.
He was about to slip under the canvas wall when a deep boom sounded from somewhere within the palace. Michaels. There weren’t nearly as many guards within the tent, and all but the two men in the guard stations ran into the palace. Sev took advantage of the distraction and slipped into the tent, crawled up behind the elaborate floral decorations, and then dashed up the stairs. He’d already put another dart in the blowgun, and as soon as the guard turned, Sev shot him. Before he could fall, Sev caught him and propped him up next to the window. Anyone on the ground would just see a vigilant, stoic guard.
Sev pressed his chest to the man’s back and watched the entrance of the tent. His gaze darted to the opposite station, wondering if Silas had made it in as well. A few moments passed, and the other guards reappeared. They shook their heads and waved a signal that probably meant a false alarm. Sev grabbed the paralyzed guard’s arm and moved it in a responding wave, then waited without breathing to see if any of them would sense something amiss. They returned to their posts near the entrance without any hesitation. Sev released his breath, relieved. Waiting for Kildeggan to show and give them the signal remained the only thing left to do.
Sev slipped the guard’s field glasses from his belt pouch, ducked to the floor, and peered out the window. From this vantage point, he was able to see the entire garden. It really looked like a circus with various performers, attractions, and spectacles. Sev gaped at the rows of tables with fancy food and delicate sweets. At various points in the garden, behind dark mahogany bars, stood clockwork barmen with brass skin, pouring champagne for the guests. A flesh and blood fool juggled with his copper counterpart. Sev marveled at a golden dragon creeping along the lanes of the garden, its clockwork tail swishing from side to side. The guests seemed intimidated by the false creature. Though its motions were precise and unwavering, they seemed sure it would attack.
More and more people entered the gardens. Sev searched the crowd for people he’d recognize. He thought he saw Faraday. He was sure that there were dignitaries present from many different nations, but he couldn’t decide who was who. The person Sev really wanted to see was absent. He searched the crowd for Kildeggan. Sev believed Heph’d be in the crowd disguised as a noble, but no one in attendance was him. The Duchess of Inverness moved about the throng. She seemed completely disinterested. Sev hoped no one watched her too closely. She could expose the entire mission. Someone approached her with an extra glass of champagne and she accepted, speaking with him. Sev sighed with relief.
He watched as a mechanical man walked out of the palace carrying a large crate. The metal man placed the crate on the ground, and it opened like the petals of a wooden flower. Inside was a clockwork turtle with a cake perched on its shell. The turtle trudged to a table and climbed up. Once on top, the clockwork turtle retreated into its shell, and all that was left was the cake. Clockwork and actual birds flapped around the reception, and delicate tin and snow-white natural feathers drifted from the tent peaks.
Sev watched as guest after guest arrived, each one more elaborately dressed than the last. They wandered up to the clockwork barmen. Most of the nobles and guests conversed civilly, their voices low, respectful, unless someone said something particularly funny or insightful. The garden quickly filled with guests, and the noise in the tent grew. Sev wondered if this was a typical royal wedding, having never seen one before. Music drifted amid the voices from a small orchestra consisting of equal parts human and clockwork musicians. Sev had never seen so much clockcraft in one place and of such advanced design. He wished he could get a closer look at the mechanical wonders.
As he marveled at the musicians through the field glasses, something occurred causing the musicians and the crowd to fall silent. They weren’t just quiet, they were silent. The only sounds Sev could hear were the low chugging of the heating machines and his own breathing. He scanned the crowd. Everyone looked in the same direction, and Sev moved the field glasses that way. He dropped the glasses from his eyes, unsure that what he saw through them was true. When he brought them back up, William Wrathsbury, the Duke of Sutherland was smiling and introducing his guest for the wedding, Mr. Jonathan Middlenight. The duke looked handsome and dashing, the very picture of highborn British society. He wore a decadent and beautifully tailored suit of the finest silk, shining deep blue with delicate embroidery and trim of gold. Sutherland looked like a prince in a fairy story.
His guest looked like the devil. Midnight wore a suit of an even more elaborate design from black silk just as fine as the duke’s, but all the detailed embroidery, all the lace and fancy trim was black as well, a black darker than the shadows at night. The only shock of color in Midnight’s ensemble appeared in his hair. He’d managed to p
ut a stripe of red in his fringe, and he gloried at the attention everyone afforded him. All eyes in the tent focused on the pair, and now Sev noticed a susurrous noise traveling through the crowd. He realized people had begun whispering about the new arrivals.
No one moved to stop them as they strolled up to one of the clockwork bars, Sutherland taking a flute of champagne and passing it to Midnight. He accepted the glass, and they toasted. The duke sipped while Midnight gulped his down. The villain walked up to the barman and held his glass beneath the pouring wine. Sutherland had been correct; no one paid any attention to anything but the duke and his controversial companion.
Even Sev jumped when his team joined him in the guard station, his focus was so intent on the preposterous scene playing out beneath them. They had just enough space in the little room. Sev instructed his mates to sit low, stay quiet, and remain out of sight. Sev sat with them, his back to the wall beneath the window, wondering how long they’d have to wait for the queen and Fairgate to arrive.
Sev periodically peered over the windowsill. He saw a priest in a white and black robe, carrying an enormous bible. The gray-wigged man walked solemnly up to the pavilion opposite the palace. He climbed the stairs of the elaborately decorated dais to the velvet-upholstered railing and placed the giant book on a podium within. “Priest is here,” Sev relayed his observation.
“Why ain’t they havin’ this travessy in a church?” Billings asked in a whisper.
“It’s travesty,” Sev pronounced the word properly. “But that’s a good question. There’s a chapel in the palace.”
“Maybe the bastard can’t go in a house o’ God,” Meredith guessed.
“Or the monster what’s in the queen?” Billings added. Sev had never considered that possibility. That might be true. He wondered if the queen still attended services. Would the priest be able to sense something off about her? Could he do anything if he did?
Applause interrupted Sev’s thoughts, and his heart leapt, beating faster. This was it. He looked up to confirm as the orchestra music rose to announce the arrival of the groom. The guests migrated toward the dais while Fairgate marched imperially along the red carpet at the center of the tent. He wore his red-coated military uniform, the lapel festooned with medals. Sev sneered at the smug expression on the man’s face. He would’ve liked nothing more than to shoot that look off the bastard’s face at the moment. But he had to be patient, follow the plan. Sev smiled when Fairgate passed Sutherland and Midnight and the expression wavered. Jack pressed the situation, bowing and offering his hand. Fairgate shook it nervously, and then pulled his hand immediately away like he thought Jack might bite him. It was certainly a possibility.
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