“Miss Hawking? Do you like baked apples?” Mister Flint called as he returned from the kitchen.
Smiling, the lord exited the hall.
What an odd, odd mech. Grinning, I looked back at the automaton crossing the room toward me. The scent of freshly baked apples and cinnamon spiced the air. I picked up my fork and hoisted it like a saber. “I’m armed for the battle.”
Chapter 18: Tempting Morgan le Fay
I woke the next morning with renewed vigor. Setting my books and Elyse’s mirror aside, I grabbed what paper I could find from the writing desk and repacked my satchel. The sky overhead was a bit cloudy, but I wasn’t going to let the rain stop me. Digging in the wardrobe once more, I discovered a light spring jacket that fit well but was worn by time. I slipped on the dark blue coat and headed toward the front of the castle.
To my surprise, the lord was waiting by the fireplace in the hall.
“Miss Hawking,” he said, bowing to me. “I thought you might find this useful.” He handed me a cylindrical leather package.
“What is it?” I asked.
“A map of the island.”
“Oh! Oh, yes. This will be very helpful indeed. Thank you.”
“The western side of the island only. I have your word?”
“Yes, of course. Best to avoid wolf country.”
The lord chuckled, a sound that was surprisingly human. It was a shame I couldn’t have a look at his voice box. The design of it amplified sound perfectly. When I returned to London, I would have much to consider regarding these mechanicals. Perhaps I could convince Missus Silver to tell me more about her creator.
“And to ensure your safety, I ask that you take a companion.”
“Companion?”
He whistled. A moment later, I heard the quick sound of scurrying. The noise reminded me of street performers doing a tap dance. I was surprised when, a moment later, a dog appeared. Well, a dog but not a dog. The creature, like everything else on this island, was clockwork.
I knelt to look more closely at the beast. The dog had large golden optics and a metal tail that wagged happily. Its body was created from a color of bronze that was nearly red. Great care had been put into her creation.
“This is Kelly,” he said. “She is a loyal companion.”
“What manner of dog is she modeled after?”
“She’s an Irish Setter.”
“Hello, Kelly,” I said, setting my hand on her head.
She wagged her tail happily.
“Well then, come along,” I said, tapping my leg as I rose and headed toward the door. The cylinder for the map hung on a strap which I strung around me.
“Western shore to the castle only,” he reminded me.
“Of course,” I said with a smile then headed outside.
ONCE I WAS OUT OF THE castle gates and in the forest once more, I felt the tension leave my body. It was beautiful in the forest. I had grown so accustomed to life in London that I never thought of the countryside.
Kelly snooped through the forest, nose to the ground, in the manner of a real dog. I eyed her skeptically. Who had created these fabulous creatures, and why had they been abandoned in this place?
I left the castle from the west gate and headed directly to the shoreline, only stopping once I reached the beach. I stared out at the dark blue waves which thundered against the shore. The smell of the sea filled my lungs. Kelly stood beside me staring out at the water. To my surprise, she whimpered.
Kneeling, my instinct was to pat her head, to comfort her. But why? She didn’t actually feel anything, did she? The dog looked longingly at the water.
“You’ll rust if you go play in the waves, won’t you, poppet?”
The dog whimpered once more.
I was anthropomorphizing the mechanical. She was made to behave like a dog. Perhaps someone had designed her analytics to respond in such a manner when confronted with water to ensure she didn’t get wet and rust out.
But still.
The large golden optics looked...sad.
“Shall we go look for the standing stones? Nothing to see here but pebbles anyway,” I said to the dog then sat down on a piece of driftwood and pulled out the map. “We’ll begin here and make a sweep. There seems to be some structure north of here. Noted here on the map,” I told Kelly who seemed to be observing the map with me. I chuckled. “Clever girl. Can you read a map as well? There is a man in London I quite loathe, Gerard LeBoeuf, who is said to be the greatest cartographer in all of England. He advises all the explorers who go out on the seas to adventure. Detestable creature though. He says he loves me, but he tells that to every woman he meets. I wish I could find a gentleman who professes such passion but does so in earnest,” I said with a laugh.
Taking one last glance at the map, I decided on my course. “Let’s go find this mysterious structure, and we shall use it as our rallying point.”
I gazed out at the sea one last time. Exploring the island was a distraction. More than anything, I hoped that Papa had made it to land safely and was busy arranging for a ship to come for me. But I couldn’t think about that now. I didn’t dare give into the thought that maybe Papa had not made it home.
“Come on, Kelly,” I said then turned and headed back toward the interior of the island.
We walked under the thick limbs of the old oak trees deep into the lush green. Everything smelled fresh and alive. Keeping my eye on the landscape, the map in mind, I pushed through the dense woods until I spotted the ruins of a small structure ahead. Kelly ran toward it. From what I could tell, the place must been some sort of hermitage tucked into the forest away from the castle. Ivy and unusual orange-colored roses grew all around the Grecian-style columns. The small ruin was beautiful. Its gentle grace was a stark contrast to the metallic precision of the garden at the castle.
“What is this place?” I whispered to Kelly as I wove through the columns. The small ruin seemed to have been built to complement the natural surroundings. I was surprised to see some hints that it had frequently been used in the past, including a clock worked into the columns, the time on the face arrested close to nine o’clock. I passed through one section then found myself standing on a small veranda that overlooked a beautiful, picturesque scene. A brook meandered through the woods, emptying into a small pool on the rise just below the terrace. Somewhere in the trees above, a bird warbled happily. This place had been created to view the natural splendor. I imagined a painter or poet working from this very spot, calling up lines or dabbing green paint on a canvas.
Feeling content, I sat down on the flagstones and pulled out the map. Taking a pencil from my bag, I divided the landscape around me into four quarters, mindful to keep to the west of the island only. Wolves, right? I gazed back in the direction of the castle and east. Why was I supposed to avoid the mine? What had Missus Silver so upset?
I looked down at the map. The more hilly area of the island was all to the east and south of the castle. What had they been mining there? Had the mine run out? Why had all the equipment been left behind?
Frowning, I folded up my map. It didn’t matter. Papa would return within the week. I’d make my study of the standing stones and the Ogham and see what I could learn about the automatons. I would keep busy until I could leave the island. The small hermitage would be my home base from which to explore. I rested a while longer then headed into the woods.
Kelly and I tromped through the ferns until we found the first of the standing stones. The menhir was covered in knotwork and Celtic designs. Sitting on the ground before the monolith, I sketched the rocks, copying each shape exactly. I also noted the Ogham writing on the stones. Digging in my bag for the writing paper and a piece of coal, I did a rubbing of the ancient language. Noting the stone on my map, I explored the rest of the woods only to find another small rock with a face like the one I’d seen when I’d first arrived and the other not far from the mine. This face wore a deep grimace. I noted it on the map and sketched it in my journal. I wa
s almost done when Kelly, who’d been sniffing—or so she was tinkered to behave—through the ferns stiffened. Like a trained hunting dog, she lifted her leg in point, her back stiffening, tail straightening.
Rising, I followed her gaze.
She was staring into the forest on the eastern part of the island where the trees were the thickest. A late-afternoon fog was rolling in from the sea, and the sky had grown cloudy as the day had progressed.
In the dark forest, I heard the sound of a tinkling bell and a soft laugh. I stared into the woods. Then I saw a shimmering blob of golden light.
Kelly growled.
I watched the strange glow as it bounced playfully then disappeared into the forest.
A wisp.
I looked down at the small stone with the face. My eyes deceived me for a moment when it appeared the face thereon was looking up at me.
“Well, Merlin. What tricks are you playing?” I called into the woods.
There was only silence and the strange feeling of eyes upon me.
“Or is it Morgan le Fay who haunts these woods?” I added.
To my surprise, I heard a soft laugh.
My skin prickled to goosebumps, and the hairs on the back of neck rose. If this was a holy island, a sacred place for Druids, it did not pay to play with things I didn’t understand. Yet everything within me urged me to follow. To see where the wisp had gone. To know what was in that mine. No. Not a mine. To see what was in that cave.
I stepped toward the woods.
Kelly whimpered then trotted forward, blocking my path.
“The lord sent you to keep an eye on me, did he?”
The dog wagged her tail.
I stared into the forest. “I am too curious for my own good. It’s true. Also, it may rain, and I won’t have you getting wet. You win, Kelly. Let’s head back to your castle.”
The dog wagged her tail again. She turned and headed back toward the castle, only pausing to look back expectantly at me.
“Coming,” I said. I looked back at the forest one last time.
From the thick foliage, I could have sworn I heard a soft whisper.
Isabelle. Come.
Chapter 19: Windup
Kelly and I had just entered the castle foyer when it started to rain. Kelly disappeared somewhere deeper within the castle while I shrugged off my coat. I listened for the sounds of Missus Silver or Mister Flint or any of the other servants—or the lord—but heard nothing.
I eyed the castle steps. Perhaps this was my chance to learn more about the automatons.
Moving quickly and quietly, I worked my way up the stairs of the castle back to the turret hangar where I had found Papa. The place was empty. I closed the door behind me then set down my bag. I went to the workbench and began looking over all the tools. This workshop was that of an airship engineer, a mechanic. This was not the workshop of a clockwork tinker. That made no sense. In a house full of automatons, where were all the pieces and parts? Where were all the schematics? Where were the tools needed for fine work? I found nothing save sketches, equipment, and mechanics meant for airships. Old airships.
There were no answers here.
Frowning, I picked up a handful of blank paper and shoved it in my bag. Tiptoeing, I slipped back out of the hangar and down the stairs once more.
“Ah, Miss Hawking. I was looking for you. Some tea, miss?” Mister Flint called, climbing the stairs toward me.
“Um. Yes. Please.”
“Very good. I shall prepare high tea in the dining room,” he said then turned around and headed back downstairs. I paused a few moments, pretending to look out the window until I was sure he had gone.
Then, creeping, I headed downstairs. All of my movements thus far had been restricted to the west wing of the castle. But there was a narrow hall on the first floor that led to the east wing. From what I could tell, the lord kept that wing to himself. Every time he appeared, that’s where he’d come from. And that’s where Kelly had run off to.
I turned and headed down the hallway. The wide hall had windows that looked out on the grounds on one side. On the other were rows of doors and even more corridors. I kept one ear listening for the lord or the servants then went exploring. The first hall was lined with oil paintings. Welsh lords and ladies, clearly aristocrats, were commemorated in their royal best, frozen in elegant poses. The paintings dated back many generations. When I reached the end of the hall, I noted a discolored spot on the wall where a canvas was missing. At the end of this hall, I found a staircase that led upward, presumably to the suites above and the other castle turret.
I had just made up my mind to risk his bad humor when I heard footsteps descending the stairs. I made out the distinct footfall of the lord followed by the padding of Kelly.
Frowning, I turned to the nearest door. Locked. I tried the next. Locked again.
The footsteps drew near.
I stuck my hand into my satchel and pulled out my small tool kit. Turning to the nearest door, I worked quickly. A moment later, the lock popped. Opening the door quietly, I slipped inside. I closed the door with a silent click just as the lord and his dog descended the stairs.
I listened, my heart pounding in my chest, as the lord and the dog passed.
Turning, I looked back into the room. There, on a long table at which at least twenty people could sit, was an endless mountain of windup keys.
Confused, I approached the table. The keys had been separated into piles: steel, copper, bronze, silver, gold, stone, and even some that looked to be made of glass. There were thousands of keys. Thousands. Each of the keys had a small tag. I lifted one of the steel keys. It was numbered: 8,015. I gazed around the room. There were chests sitting everywhere. Moving quietly, I opened a pinewood chest only to find more windup keys, all of which had been tagged.
A slow realization washed over me.
The lord was searching for his key. That made no sense. Couldn’t someone just tinker a mold for him? And where had all these keys come from?
I froze when I heard voices drift down the hallway. It was Missus Silver and the lord. I scanned all around the room looking for a place to hide, a place to escape. There was none. But I also noticed that sitting in one corner was a large painting covered with a drape. The portrait from the hall? Why was it here?
Dismissing the idea for the moment, I hurried across the room, opened the window, and slipped outside. It was a tight fit getting around the iron topiary positioned there, but I took a deep breath and slid past the metallic ornament as I closed the window behind me. Once clear, I ducked low.
“And in today’s chest?” Missus Silver asked.
“Nothing,” the lord replied flatly. “You know the game. Of course, there was nothing.”
“The girl—Miss Hawking—surely she could help you. She is a very gifted tinker. Perhaps if you let her examine you, she might find a way—”
“No.”
“But, my lord, she is a very bright and honest girl. Perhaps if we just tell her what has happened to us, she will believe us. She will help us.”
“Say nothing. This is my burden to bare. I must be the one to undo the curse.”
“If you won’t tell her, then, at least... I am not sure how to put it, my lord, but she is the first woman to come to this island since...since it happened. Don’t you think she might be the one to help break the curse?”
“I will not trouble that poor girl. You’re right. She is honest and bright, and she is also gorgeous. She doesn’t deserve to be drowned by our misery. Her father will return, and she will go. And soon, my heart will stop, and that will be the end of it. When I am gone, you will be restored.”
“But, my lord, you could at least try. If not for us, at least for yourself. She is an amiable creature, really.”
“Amiable, yes, but also very unusual.”
“Time has passed. The manners of the day have no doubt changed.”
“I am sure you are right. No, there is no fault in her. The fault is in
me. Look at me, Aelwyd. What is there for any woman to consider?”
“My lord...Rhys...what’s in a face? It is the heart that matters most.”
The lord laughed in a deep, tinny voice that rattled. “And what heart have I shone her? Have you seen her arm? I did that. Me. I can barely look her in the face,” he said then paused. “Do you feel the breeze? The window latch is open.”
Gasping, I turned and quickly darted away from the open window. My heart pounding in my chest, I raced around the front of the castle toward the gate and out of sight. Surely, he had not seen me.
I dashed to the front door and stood for a moment under the eave away from the rain.
A curse.
The place was cursed.
Well, no wonder it had been abandoned.
But cursed by whom? What had the lord meant? I replayed the conversation in my head, but it didn’t sound like anything to me. I couldn’t make sense of it. The thought that he found me both admirable, even if a little odd, made my heart beat quicker. Why? He was just an automaton. What did his opinion matter? But all the same, the compliment affected me. But their words...the curse...what did it all mean?
Moving quickly and quietly, I slipped inside once more then headed toward the dining room. I arrived just in time to find Mister Flint setting out the tea.
“Ah, Miss Hawking. Good timing. Please,” he said, pulling out a chair.
My heart still racing, I slid into my seat, relieved that the room was dim enough that he didn’t notice that I was damp from the rain.
“Not the freshest tea, I must confess. And I do apologize. It may be a bit more herb than Earl Gray.”
“It’s all right. I have work to focus on anyway. Hardly ever even notice my plate in such a state, I confess,” I said as I began unpacking my satchel. “But I’ll begin in good form,” I said, picking up a bite of the apple from the plate and popping it into my mouth.
Mister Flint laughed. “Good appetite, yes. Your form, however...you know I did set you out some flatware.”
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