by Laura Lam
She leaned forward. "One fateful day, Northern Temnian raiders attacked the coast, planning to conquer Cowl and build a base to later attack the capital. The raiders were merciless, and no one could stop them. The townsfolk fought bravely, but the invaders were too strong. All seemed lost, and Cowl was doomed to fall.
"But Fisk knew the Temnians were a superstitious lot. He dressed in a black cowl and carried a staff topped with a glass globe to cast eerie shadows on his face. He strode amidst the battle, showing no fear, singing a song in his harsh voice that his mother had sung to him as a babe, a lullaby of loss. The raiders stopped the battle, terrified. He sung and lifted the staff, as if casting a spell. The raiders fled, never to return. Though many perished, including Fisk's own mother, the village of Cowl was saved, all because of a scaled man that had almost been left to die."
The food came, and we were silent as the platters clunked against the wood. It was a sad tale and yet it was not. Fisk did save the town and lived a long life.
The conversation turned to other topics, but the story of Fisk stayed with me, tucked into the same corner of my mind as the Kedi.
• • • •
The food was marvelous – small portions of roast pork, apple chutney, mashed potatoes, gravy, and some peas, all served with freshly baked bread cooked with oats and butter. We were paying a high price for every morsel, but to me, it was worth it. And throughout the meal, the ale flowed freely.
I had grown used to drinking ale with my meals, but not so strong, and before I knew it, the room took on a warm and pleasant glow. Everyone around me was alehappy as well, though some more than others.
As the drink flowed, barriers lowered. The Kymri tumblers began to play their flutes and harps, dancing in place to their own music. Circus folk who rarely spoke with me clapped me on the back or swept me into a jig. I enjoyed the jocular atmosphere, and due to the copious amount of ale in my stomach, I caught myself grinning and laughing more than once. I danced with Aenea, content in this moment.
The drink made people talkative. I fell into a philosophical debate with Tin, the small man, about the merits of the monarchy.
"Fuck the Princess Royal!" Tin yelled, spilling beer.
"She's a child!" I responded. "Screwing her would mean losing a head, for her age if not her social station." I hiccupped.
"She'd like it," Tin said magnanimously.
"Why are you against her?" I had never known someone to speak against the future queen. The nobility knew better than to do such a thing openly.
"What's she done to deserve her silks and power? Naught."
I remembered my tutor's lectures. "She doesn't have any power, does she? The steward does."
"Aw, hell, she will soon enough. She's being primed for it. That wide-eyed innocence is all a ploy, so we don't care that she's robbing us blind and setting us up for war when she's of age."
Her family had avoided war for many years, but I knew better than to point this out to Tin, for war was a likely possibility.
"Doesn't seem like many in the circus are too fond of her. Funny, isn't it, considering we live outside her laws in many ways?"
"Aw, away with you, young master smart arse. We've all got problems with authority, ain't we, and you'll understand it more when you've sprouted your beard." Tin laughed at my indignant expression and took another gulp of beer. "Think I could get the innkeeper's daughter to come upstairs with me?"
"You can do whatever you set your mind to, I'm sure, Tin," I said, my mouth twisting.
"It ain't my mind I'm bothered with tonight." He jumped off of his stool and weaved his way to her. He tugged at her skirt. She looked about, brown curls swaying, and glanced down. Her expression was hostile, but at his words she broke into laughter, as if in spite of herself. I wondered what he'd said to her.
I took advantage of people's moods and spoke to nearly everyone that night. I flirted harmlessly with the contortionists, joked with the friendlier clowns, asked the Kymri tumblers to teach me a few words in their language – the curse words, naturally – and jabbered at anyone who would speak with me. Sal and Tila were on top form, finding increasingly creative ways to make me blush. Aenea watched me from across the room, highly amused, as she chatted with Bethany and Karla.
I had a mug of ale too many and the tavern began to tilt and sway. I had to grasp the table tops to make my way about. Stumbling outside for some air, I took deep breaths to settle my stomach.
I sat under the oilskin window of the pub, staring at the scaled hero of Cowl. His hood was pushed down, revealing his scaly face and wide, staring eyes.
"What had Fisk, the man behind the hero, been like?" I asked the night air, grandiose in my drunkenness. The night did not respond.
Bil stumbled out into the night from the tavern door, breathing heavily. He leant over and emptied his stomach, the sour smell causing me to gag. He did not notice me in the shadows beneath the windows.
Sal was returning from the outhouse. Bil stopped her.
"Can I interest you in a bit of business tonight, Sal?"
Sal paused, looking him up and down in his drunken state.
"You've never asked before, Bil. Trouble with Frit?"
"You don't know the half of it. Well?"
She paused, uncertain. "You don't like it much if I peddle to other circus members."
"I'm a little different now, ain't I? I only run the blooming thing." His words slurred.
She hesitated again. "I thankee kindly for your offer, Bil, but I don't think I'm of a mind to tonight."
Bil staggered toward her. "Why not?"
She backed up a step. "You and Frit, you're having some troubles, but you'll work them out like you always do. But if Frit ever found out, she'd never forgive me, and once you sobered, I don't think you could forgive me, neither."
Bil staggered toward her, crushing her to him and kissing her roughly. One of his hands disappeared down the front of her top, the other up her skirt. Sal's arms battered against him. She was not a weak woman, and one of the blows to the side of his head caused him to let her go and lurch away.
"Stupid bitch," he snarled, tottering toward her again.
Prepared, she danced out of his reach. "You've no right, Bil Ragona," she said.
"No right to couple with a whore?" he snarled. He braced himself to rush toward her again.
I stood and started strolling unsteadily toward the outhouse, whistling merrily. At the sound, they paused and stared at me, Sal's eyes wide and Bil's red. The air seemed to deplete from Bil. He looked oddly small. He sighed. "Get back inside, Sal. Where it's warm..."
She gave me a smile, as if nothing were wrong, and returned to the tavern. Bil gave me a drunken salute and walked to the statue and rested his forehead against its cold stone. I went to the outhouse and walked inside the tavern, and after another couple of tankards of ale and more dancing, I forgot what I had seen. Mostly.
25
SUMMER: THE CLOCKWORK WOMAN
"The Moon and the Sun circled each other in their dance, warming the world. From the dust of the aether they created seeds, which they scattered. Countries grew from each seed to become large continents whose names are now lost to history, stretching for many, many miles. Forests bloomed, deserts smoldered under the hot sun, and waves lapped the sand dunes. First came the Alder, and then the humans, and then the Chimaera. But then one day, there were no more Chimaera, and then no more Alder. The waters rose, and the humans were all alone, with only a vague promise that one day, perhaps, their dreams will return."
from THE APHELION
Imachara was even larger than I remembered.
The train crested a hill and wove toward the city, which stretched from the coast to as far as I could see. The city had originally been built in vaguely labyrinthine shapes, each quarter formed into a spiral. After years of construction, the spirals had uncoiled into a maze of side streets. The granite city's wonderful architecture was monochrome compared to the different shades of sooty
limestone in Sicion. Stone was a trade Ellada did well in. The city sprawled below us like a smudged charcoal drawing.
"Haven't you been to Imachara before?" Aenea asked, noting my stare.
"Yes, but not for some time," I lied. I had been last year.
"Where did you go in Imachara, as a merchant's son?" she asked.
"Mainly we went to fetch stock and supplies for the shop in Sicion, but occasionally we would also go to a restaurant, a play at the theatre, or one of the smaller balls."
"I've always wanted to go to a ball," Aenea said a little wistfully, and I remembered her tale of the past love who had hurt her, and who she had hoped would turn her into a lady. And yet now she was with someone who had been introduced at a debutante ball as a lady. It was funny, and it was very much not.
The doors to the compartment behind us, Bil's compartment, whooshed open. Frit stormed past us on the train, her hands balled into fists. We hit a turn in the tracks, and she lost her balance, sprawling along the floor. She looked up and I met her gaze. Her hair had tumbled from her bun and eyes were rimmed red and angry as a coal in a hot fire. I flinched and she broke our gaze. Tauro helped her up. Frit brushed herself off and gathered the shreds of her dignity about her. The entire cart was quiet, pretending we had not noticed her tumble.
She glanced over her shoulder, as if she expected Bil to have followed her. Nobody was there. She limped from the cart, slamming the compartment door behind her with a sound like a gunshot.
"Poor Frit," Aenea whispered.
"It's getting worse, isn't it?"
"It is. People think she'll leave soon. And to be honest, I hope she does. She deserves better than this."
Our fingers intertwined.
"They must have loved each other, once," I said.
"They did, I know it. When I first joined, I had never seen two people more in love. People were amused as first, with Bil so large and Frit so small and thin, sort of unassuming. But they were always together, joking and laughing. Frit used to always smile. They seemed to fit together perfectly. I thought to myself, 'That's what love is'. I suppose I was wrong."
"They say love and hate are closely tied, that they can turn at a moment's notice."
She sighed.
It took over a week to construct the circus on the beach of Imachara.
Nearly every aspect of the circus had to be bigger for the capital. The big top looked like an odd cloth-draped spider puppet as it slowly emerged onto the packed sand on stone. The seating stands in the big top were stacked as closely as possible so that a few more hundred bodies could fit into the tent. A larger tent was used for the freakshow, so that more people could see its contents. The carnival would be nearly twice the size of Sicion's, with many local merchants bringing their own carts and tents of wares.
We all helped erect the circus, and practice for the pantomime lasted long into the night. After three days, we were all teetering with exhaustion.
One morning, Drystan made an announcement at breakfast. Bil was still abed, probably with a hangover from Styx, judging by how much he had quaffed the night before.
"Listen!" Drystan cried, rapping a spoon against an empty pot. "Bil has generously given us the morning off to catch our breaths." Everyone cheered.
"But it's only the morning. We're under a tight deadline, and we still have far more to do than we'd like. So be back by two hours past noon. And no drinking!" he called over the sound of many bodies returning their trays to have as much time in the city as possible.
I was bouncing with so much excitement I felt as if I had springs attached to my soles. Aenea grinned with just as much enthusiasm.
"What shall we do?" she asked. "Is there something you wanted to see the last time you were here that you did not get a chance to?"
I thought a moment, and then I kissed Aenea on the cheek. "I know just the place."
"What is it?"
"A surprise."
"I'll go gather my things."
I raced to my cart and pocketed the remains of my coins and changed from my patched practice clothes to my less-worn ones and a light summer jacket. Knowing that Aenea would be primping and preening, I polished my shoes and ran a comb through my hair with a bit of pomade Arik had left behind. Before leaving, I glanced about the cart in dismay. As soon as Arik had left, I had given up any pretense of tidiness. I shrugged into my jacket and hurried to Aenea's cart.
"My, but don't you look dapper," Aenea said when she came out of the cart she shared with Dot and the new contortionist, Ellen. She made quite a portrait herself, in the same green dress she had worn on our outing to Sicion together.
"And don't you look positively breathtaking, my lady," I said, offering her my arm. The day would be sweltering. Aenea soon opened her parasol and we strolled beneath it.
Imachara was very different from Sicion, the air more fetid and cloying, the streets packed with passersby. The Penglass ridge of Imachara dwarfed that of any other city, jutting into the air like the spinal ridge of a dragon. On a sunny day like this, the strange domes bathed large swaths of the city in blue shadow.
Imachara was a constant bustle. Every night, something would be playing in the grand amphitheater, the Crescent, or any of the various smaller theatres. In the height of the season, balls were held by each prominent noble family, three or four a week. The grandest would always be in the Beach Ballroom, which we could just see from the site of the circus. Late at night, I had crept there and listened to the music, wondering if anyone I knew was dancing inside.
Shops peddled wares from all over the world – glass and crystal from Kymri, leather and animal goods, Temri shops of jewelry, and Lindean exotic wood. The summer market was also in town, in Silvergold Square, where even more treasures could be found.
"This must be a wonderful place to be rich," Aenea said, wonder and jealousy tinting her voice as we watched a lord and lady exit a carriage, leading a toddler between them, and walk into the Kymri glass shop. By their crest on the carriage, I knew they were the Balsas – a prominent family, but nowhere near the most wealthy or powerful.
"It's probably an equally terrible place to be poor," I replied, nodding toward the dirty and pinched faces of the beggars on most corners.
"Isn't any place awful to be poor?"
"Maybe not Temne or Linde. You can eat fruit all day long and it's always warm. You could live in a tree."
Aenea laughed. "You'd like that, you monkey. And then you could be eaten alive by a snake or slowly drained of blood by insects."
"True." I went into a newsagent's and bought a map. Unfolding it, my brow furrowed as I tried to find our destination. It was not on the map.
"You don't know where we're going?" Aenea teased.
"I've only been to Imachara a handful of times, and always with my parents. Tarry a moment." I returned to the newsagent's and asked for directions. We were not far, which was lucky, as I had no fare for a hansom cab. I thanked the man and we headed toward the boundary of the Glass and Gilt quarters.
Imachara was more clearly divided by class than Sicion, out of necessity. We were wandering through the merchant section, or the Brass Quarter, which also encompassed the docks. The Glass Quarter and the Brass Quarter were where the merchant classes lived, and the Gilt Quarter housed the nobles and richest of merchants. On the side of the city furthest from the Gilt Quarter were the Nickel and Copper quarters, for the destitute. The Penny Rookeries housed the poorest of the poor. As we walked closer to the Glass and Gilt, the streets became wider, cleaner, and less crowded. The sun sparkled off the mica of the granite pavement.
"Hey," I laughed. "My name matches Imachara better than Sicion, doesn't it?"
"So it does."
The buildings grew increasingly ornate and grand. The men and women passing us wore silks and brocades. I hoped they would let us into our destination with our clean but plain muslin and cotton.
The Museum of Mechanical Antiquities was a tall, narrow building squeezed between a clo
thing boutique and a high-end butcher. The paint of the sign flaked, the stone was layered with decades of grit and soot, stark against the clean buildings to either side. I did not remember it being so run down. I was amazed the city of Imachara allowed it to stay open, looking as it did in such a good neighborhood.
Aenea's eyes lit with delight. "I've heard of this place and have always wanted to go. Well done, Micah!" She kissed me.