“No one has, really. It comes from China. It has a lot of names: ma que, mu tsian, ma jiang, even mah jong. They all mean sparrow.”
“China,” Gavin repeated. “Why would Edwina tell us to play a Chinese game with the Queen?”
“She knew the Third Ward was coming,” Alice said. “Those lights on her wall were a series of alarms. She knew you and I were coming, remember? At any rate, she couldn’t tell us what she meant outright with the Ward in the room. It’s a hint that no one else would get, just like the coordinates puzzle.”
“And what’s the hint?”
“Mrs. Babbage reads the Times every day; did you know that? Every word. She also reads the Gazette, Punch, the Examiner, the Graphic, the Atlantic, and, well, everything!” Alice’s eyes sparkled. “There’s a speaking tube in the library, and you can ask her a question and-”
“I know, I know,” Gavin interrupted. “I met Mrs. Babbage last year. What does this have to do with Chinese sparrows? What’s the hint?”
“According to three different articles in different periodicals, the Chinese ambassador and his son introduced the Queen and the Prince Consort to ma que, and the four of them play quite a lot.”
“All right. But how could Edwina expect us to play ma que with the Queen?”
“She doesn’t,” Alice said. “But who does play ma que with the Queen?”
“The Chinese ambassador.” Gavin fiddled with his teacup. “You think Edwina wants us to talk to him?”
“I do. I think Aunt Edwina knew she was going to be captured, so she’s sending us to talk to someone else about the cure. The Chinese ambassador must know something important.”
“And where do we find him? We’d never get into Buckingham Palace. Not even with Third Ward credentials.”
Alice clapped her hands. “Ambassadors don’t stay at Buckingham Palace. They stay at Claridge’s hotel. You’ll never guess where that is.”
Gavin didn’t even think. “Near Hyde Park.”
“Shall we take a cab or get horses from the stable?”
“Wait just a moment.” Gavin tightened the final bolt and tossed the wrench aside with a clatter. “Let’s see if this works first.”
“I’m telling you, it won’t fly,” Alice repeated.
Gavin spun a crank on the generator and pressed a switch. It coughed twice, then sputtered to life in a cloud of acrid paraffin-oil smoke. Indicator lights flickered. Gavin reached for a dial on the side.
“Let’s see what happens,” he said, and turned the dial.
At first nothing at all happened. Then a thin crackle snaked through the air. Soft blue energy threaded through the loops and spirals of the lattice under the skin of the envelope and lit them like threads of sky. A soft hum thrummed under Gavin’s feet. Ropes creaked, and the envelope rose, taking the gondola with it. A moment later, it gently bumped the ceiling, as if nosing for a way out.
“Oh my goodness!” Alice laughed. “Oh my goodness! Gavin! What did you do?”
Gavin couldn’t stop grinning. “I wasn’t sure it would work. That’s why I didn’t want anyone to come look. It uses wire made from the new alloy Doctor Clef created for his Impossible Cube. The alloy pushes against gravity when you pump electricity through it. The more electricity you use, the more it pushes. So you don’t need a big envelope to fly.”
Alice balked. “Electricity is running through an envelope filled with hydrogen?”
“No, no,” he reassured her. “That’s something else I came up with. My ship uses helium, which doesn’t explode.”
“Well! Mr. Ennock, I have to say I find you intelligent and resourceful, and the way you lifted that generator made me truly appreciate how much a man you are.”
He laughed again. “How do you always know exactly what to say to a man?”
“I know what to say to you.” And she kissed him while the gondola swung gently beneath their feet. They parted and laughed.
“You didn’t lie about the gondola being too big for the envelope,” Gavin said. “Even though you thought it might hurt. Thank you.”
Gavin picked her up in one fluid motion, swung her around in a circle, and kissed her again. His tongue slid into her mouth, and she accepted it, smooth and soft. He set her down, and she put a hand up to catch her hat.
“Oh! That was engaging,” she said with a laugh. “Should we fly your new ship to the hotel?”
“I have to paint her yet,” Gavin said. “Let’s hire a carriage.”
Claridge’s, formerly Mivart’s, had gained a reputation as London’s only proper hotel for international political travelers. It was five stories of glass and red brick that occupied an enormous section of corner at Davies Street and Brook’s Mews. Alice adjusted her hat and allowed Gavin to help her down from the carriage. The afternoon was overcast, but not foggy, so they didn’t have to worry about plague zombies-not that even zombies would have dared wander close to Claridge’s.
In preparation for visiting an ambassador to the Orient, Alice had spent considerable time in a Third Ward attic searching for a suitable dress while Gavin washed up. She chose an afternoon dress of deep gold silk-and found she didn’t like wearing it. No matter how carefully Kemp and her little automatons altered the garment, the restrictive corset and annoying skirts got in the way. But she was calling on the Chinese ambassador, and she could hardly do so in trousers. At first, she chafed at having to follow the rules so shortly after being freed from them, but then she realized the dress was a disguise for a secret agent, which made her feel better.
Gavin’s coat and trousers allowed him freedom of movement and made much more sense. He certainly cut a dashing figure, with his powerful build, startling blue eyes, and white-blond hair. He dressed like a gentleman, but moved like a rake, and she saw envious glances from passing women as he offered her his arm outside the carriage to escort her indoors.
The concierge met them inside the lobby doors. Gavin showed him a silver badge. “We’re looking for the Chinese ambassador,” he said. “Crown business.”
Sometime later, they were ascending in a tiny lift, and Alice was examining a handwritten card the concierge had given them.
“His Honor Jun Lung, room 310,” she read. “You’d think he’d have more names than that. What do you know about China?”
“Nothing,” Gavin admitted as the lift stopped.
Alice knocked at the appropriate door, and it was opened by a young man in a long blue coat, which was heavily embroidered and had wide sleeves. His black hair was pulled back and plaited in a braid that hung down his back. Gavin showed the badge again and gave their names.
“We need to see His Honor, the Ambassador Jun Lung,” he said.
“Sorry. His Honor see no one.” The servant’s English was heavily accented.
“It’s Crown business,” Alice said.
The servant bowed. “Sorry. His Honor see no one.” And he shut the door.
Alice and Gavin looked at each other, dumbfounded. “That frankly didn’t occur to me,” Alice said. “Now what? Break the door down?”
“I don’t think that would put His Honor in a good mood. Maybe if we left him a note?”
“How do we know he’d read it?” Alice said. “A telegram might-”
The clatter of the lift interrupted them. From the cage emerged another Chinese servant, also in a blue coat. He was pushing a cart with covered dishes on it. Exotic smells wafted from them, and Alice wondered if the ambassador had his own private chef in the hotel kitchen.
“Here’s an idea,” Gavin muttered. He put a hand in his pocket and approached the man. “I wonder if you could help me, sir. I need to talk to the ambassador.” He took his hand from his pocket, and Alice caught a flash of silver. Something dropped to the carpeted floor as Gavin laid a heavy coin on the linen-covered cart. The servant flicked the coin away as if it were an insect and kept going, his expression wooden. Then he jerked the cart to a halt, leaned down, and scooped the fallen object from the floor.
; “Where you get this?” His eyes were wide.
“That’s mine,” Gavin said sharply. “Give it back now.”
“Where?” the man repeated.
“It was a present from a friend. Give it back, or I will hit you. Very hard.”
The servant dropped it into Gavin’s palm and bowed twice. “You come with me, please. Please, you come now.” Abandoning the cart, he opened the hotel room door and ushered them inside.
Alice was half expecting the rooms to be decorated in Oriental fashion, with carved dragons and Oriental wall hangings, and silk everywhere. Instead, she found a set of lavish hotel rooms, with generous furniture, thick carpets, large windows, and a marble fireplace. A middle-aged man sat in an armchair with his back to the door, a book in his lap. The servant scurried over to him and bowed, leaving his head down until the man acknowledged his presence with a word. They exchanged several sentences in Chinese before the servant returned.
“His Honor see you now.” He brought Alice and Gavin over to the sitting area, and the man rose to his feet. He wore a long, gold-bordered scarlet robe, which was embroidered with dozens of designs. A wide, round cloth hat covered his head, even though he was indoors, and his angular face was clean-shaven. Alice floundered. Should she bow? Offer her hand? Her schooling in etiquette had covered what to do when meeting everything from a priest to a baronet to the Queen herself, but not a dignitary from the Chinese Empire. Gavin looked equally perplexed.
The ambassador solved the problem for them by offering his hand first to Alice and then to Gavin. “I am Jun Lung, nephew of the Guanxu Emperor and ambassador to England.”
“Alice, Baroness Michaels, daughter of Arthur, Baron Michaels,” Alice said.
“Gavin Ennock, agent of the Third Ward,” Gavin said.
“And a friend,” Jun added. “Please, sit. My servants will bring food.”
Before Alice had time to wonder at the friend remark, a servant settled her on a chair and Gavin on a sofa, then quickly set small tables near their elbows while another servant, the one who had brought them inside, trundled the cart up and uncovered the food trays. Three mechanical spiders leapt out from under the cart and climbed to the table. They scooped food onto plates, which they rushed to set on the little tables. But instead of simply leaving the plates there, each spider captured a bit of food between two tendrils. Before Alice could react, “her” spider climbed up her arm, perched on her shoulder, and poked the food at her. She was so startled, she opened her mouth to protest. The spider dropped the morsel neatly between her lips and scuttled down her arm for more. Gavin and Jun received their food in the same way. Jun watched them both for their reaction. Gavin was working to hide his surprise, and Alice quickly schooled herself into an expression of nonchalance. One didn’t remark on food or how it was served. It was, though, quite delicious and a bit spicy, with ginger in it.
Jun started with small talk, asking Alice about her family, and then Gavin about his, and she felt compelled to do the same for Jun. She kept a practiced expression of politeness on her face, though inside, beneath the dress, she was prowling like a tiger, wanting to pounce on obvious questions. Jun, however, refused to come to the point. Alice quickly sensed she was in a game, one whose rules she knew well-the first to bring up the real subject would have to tell everything. Gavin started to interject, but Alice caught his eye and gave a slight shake of her head to stop him, and all the while the spiders popped food into their mouths.
“What do the ladies at the Chinese Imperial court wear, my lord?” she asked. “I must have every detail.”
And when he started to answer, Alice pinned him down further, asking for finer and finer detail. “What color of fan? What shade of scarlet? Do the shoes match the gown or the embroidery?”
Gavin was squirming, and the food plates were empty when Jun Lung finally let out a soft sigh and said, “It is a pleasure to talk to you, Lady Michaels.”
“But I must hear more!”
Jun held up a hand, and Alice knew she had won. “I have heard that you, Mr. Ennock, have come into possession of a small object of interest.”
“I have,” Gavin said with relief.
“May I see it?”
Gavin held up the silver nightingale, and Ambassador Lung let out another sigh. “That is indeed the object.”
“What do you mean?” Gavin asked.
At that moment, the front door opened, and into the room strode a Chinese boy of perhaps seventeen, though he was dressed in an ordinary shirt and trousers. Gavin leapt to his feet. “My God!”
“You!” The boy ran over and shook Gavin’s hand in both of his. “It is you!”
Alice blinked, bewildered. “What’s going on?”
“He saved my life,” the boy said. “He saved me!”
“Where have you been?” Jun asked sharply, then dropped into Chinese. The boy responded in kind, alternating between looking abashed and stubborn. Jun was clearly struggling to keep his temper under control in front of guests.
“This is Feng Lung, my son,” Jun said finally. “And that nightingale he gave you was built by my grandfather, who was one of the Dragon Men.”
“Dragon Men?” Alice asked.
“Your empire calls them clockworkers.”
“You are unhappy that I gave him the nightingale, Father, but I would be a memory for your sorrow instead of a target for your anger if not for him,” Feng said.
“What are you talking about?” Alice said.
“It happened in Hyde Park,” Gavin began.
“Of course it did.”
As Gavin told the story of how he hid a young Oriental man from his pursuers, Alice’s eyes went wider and wider.
“I was in the park that day,” she said breathlessly. “I heard your music, the most beautiful music since God created the earth, and then I heard the shot. I thought I must have been hearing things.”
Feng added, “I gave my brave friend the nightingale as a token to one who saved me with his music. And now he can copy his music whenever he wishes.”
“Copy?” Gavin said.
Now Feng looked surprised. He dropped to the sofa next to Gavin. “Haven’t you seen? If you press the left eye, the bird listens to sounds until you press that eye again. If you press the right eye, it sings the sounds for you.”
Astounded, Gavin held the bird up. Feng pressed the left eye. “Good morning,” Gavin said, then pressed the right eye.
“Good morning,” the bird said in Gavin’s voice.
Gavin gaped. “Is that what I sound like?” he said.
“It’s wonderful!” Alice said. “A true treasure.”
“Yes.” Jun stroked his chin. “But now you must tell me why you came here. I thought it was about the nightingale.”
Alice shook her head. “It’s about the clockwork plague and clockworkers.”
“Ah. Did the Queen send you?”
“What? No!” Alice said. “The Queen has no idea we’re-”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Jun interrupted. “She’s a well-informed woman, and I’m surprised she allows your country to treat Dragon Men-clockworkers-with such deplorable disdain.”
“What do you mean?” Gavin asked.
“You Englishmen shun clockworkers as if they carry disease,” Feng put in. “In my country, Dragon Men are revered. We gather them up and give them workshops and money and status so they can create their wonderful inventions. A Dragon Man brings any family great honor.”
“And what about Dragon Women?” Alice asked.
“They are all Dragon Men,” Jun said, “whether they are male or female. Though I suppose China should not complain about the way Britain treats its clockworkers. The balance of power between our empires, as I’m sure you know, is delicate. The British Empire controls the oceans and most of the air, and it has colonies everywhere. The Chinese Empire does not expand its borders, but it does control the tea, silk, and porcelain trades. Europe and the Ukrainian Empire separate us, so we don’t come
into direct conflict, but the. . tension is still there.”
“Especially over opium,” Feng said.
Jun shot him a hard look. “At any rate, our empires are locked in a continual game of ma que. Do you know the game?”
“I’ve only recently learned of it,” Alice said.
“It’s the best game in the world,” Feng said. “Father and I play against the Queen and the Prince Consort all the time. We let them win when Father wants something.”
“Does it work?” Gavin asked.
Feng nodded. “Usually.”
“What does ma que have to do with clockworkers?” Alice interjected.
Jun said, “The players draw ivory tiles of varying value and power, which they meld until a winner becomes clear. The Dragon Men and clockworkers are powerful, random tiles in our little game. They appear when they wish, helping out one player and then the other, but they balance out both sides in the long run.”
The world swirled dizzily for a moment. The solution hung there in front of Alice like ripe fruit, and she knew.
“Balance out,” she echoed. “Good heavens. Dear Lord. Ambassador, thank you for seeing us, but we have to go.”
“What?” Feng said. “I want to know my friend better.”
“Later.” Alice was already on her feet, which forced the men to rise. “Gavin, we have to leave. Now.”
Jun Lung caught Gavin’s arm. “My son may have repaid you the favor you did, but I have not. Honor still binds me to you, and I hope to see you again, young sir.”
With that, they left. Down in the lobby, Gavin turned to Alice. “What was that all about?”
“I understand what’s happening with Aunt Edwina and Lieutenant Phipps,” she said. “And I want a damned stiff drink before I tell you about it.”
A bit later, they were sitting at a corner table in a pub. Gavin had a Guinness at his elbow, and Alice had a very bad glass of wine. She gulped it down without tasting it, and her hands were shaking as she signaled for another.
“Tell me,” Gavin said worriedly, “before you get too drunk to talk.”
“It’s all about balance.” Alice leaned across the table, hardly able to believe she was saying these words, but knowing they were true nonetheless. “The Third Ward wants to lock Edwina up because the Crown wants to make sure her cure never, ever gets used.”
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