by Ann Hunter
Hesperia’s eyes narrowed even further, if that was even possible, and she requested that Rebecca please stop. Rebecca muttered something about stopping only so she could be kept under Hesperia’s boot, but Hesperia did not seem to hear that between the hammers and the hiss of the glowing cog as it dove into the bucket of water.
The day of the ball, Rebecca served Cassandra and Brunhilda fervently and without a word. They prettied their own faces, but Rebecca surprised them with the fashionable hair styles she had seen in the city, assuring them that Prince Andrew would find it pleasing to the eye. Not that either of them were any more pleasing to the eye than she was.
She pulled their corsets so tight that they turned a rosy shade of pink. Cassandra insisted hers be tighter. Rebecca did this with great gusto. Cassandra seemed to enjoy the pain of being trapped in such an awful device, and Rebecca did not mind taking out some of her resent on her.
Cassandra’s face matched her lilac gown when she was finally satisfied with the shape of her middle section. Brunhilda pointed her finger and laughed at her. Cassandra proceeded to bare her teeth and turn an intriguing shade of fuschia.
When it was time to ready Hesperia, Rebecca served her meekly without missing a single “my lady” instead of her usual “malady”. Hesperia questioned why Rebecca was so eager and willing this night and she simply replied that she hoped they enjoyed the spectacle at the ball and she did not wish for them to miss a moment of it.
When they were finally gone, and had been for at least a good hour, Rebecca readied herself. She scrubbed every part of herself until she glistened and smelled of roses and lilacs. She dressed with great care and then moved to the orchard to pull the covering from her creation. She stepped back and admired her handiwork. It would do nicely.
Several hours later, when the ball at The Corporation was nearing its full height, a single brilliantly polished brass carriage pulled up to the gates. The sides were carved intricately with interwoven cogs and gears, and a copper clockwork mechanical man ticked pleasantly from the driver’s seat as the carriage rolled along. He held his hands out forward with brass reins between them that sloped to where a horse should be, but there was only empty space.
When a tall young woman in a copper gown and cog decorated volto mask stepped from the carriage, the crowd fell hushed. She mounted the staircase to the ball room and the music stopped playing. Prince Andrew was dancing with lilac-faced Cassandra when he stopped mid-step to see the brown haired beauty at the top of the stairs. An intrigued smile curled the corner of his mouth. He gave his apologies to Cassandra and moved quickly to the new woman’s side. He bowed to her and offered his hand. When he swept her onto the dance floor, the music resumed. The woman smiled as Cassandra pushed people away from her to slink back into the crowd, stomping her feet like a young child.
“Welcome,” the prince said.
“Thank you.”
“I am glad you could make it.”
“As am I.”
“I saw your carriage. Very impressive. Every one here knows only a high born lady of the clock people, like yourself, could afford such a thing.”
“Indeed.”
“Tell me, my lady, what is your name.”
“I am Lady Rebecca Tremaine. My estate on is on the outskirts of the hamlet not far from this city.”
“Tremaine? I believe the last lady I danced with was a Tremaine.”
Rebecca smiled coyly. “Hardly a lady, and hardly a Tremaine, your highness.”
The prince laughed. “Well, Rebecca, allow me to introduce myself.” The prince spun her around. “I am Your Royal Highness Prince Andrew, Future Chief Executive Officer of The Corporation, son of King Andrus, who recently met an untimely demise.”
“Yes, so I heard. That is very unfortunate.”
The prince nodded. “Yes, it is. However, I hated the man, to be honest. I cannot wait to make changes around this wretched place. Tell me, dear lady, what changes would you make?”
Rebecca stepped in closer to him to murmur, “I would change the way my story ended.”
He cocked his head to the side. “How do you mean?”
“Well, your highness, my mother told me to marry a prince.”
Prince Andrew tilted his head back and laughed.
“Why do you find that funny, Your Highness?”
His gaze leveled on hers. “Your mother certainly had high hopes.”
“So she did. And so did I. My prince died on the night he assassinated your father.”
The music stopped and so did Prince Andrew. His eyes widened. He looked wildly about, then led her to the balcony with an iron grip and great haste.
Rebecca swallowed, all of a sudden unsure whether he would fling her off the balcony to her impending doom.
Prince Andrew pinned her against the balcony rail. “You were the girl.”
“Yes.”
“My father locked you away. How did you escape?”
“I had friends in the right places.”
He released her and paced the balcony, running his gloved fingertips through his hair.
Rebecca remained calm by concentrating on her breathing. Finally Prince Andrew turned and grabbed her wrists. Rebecca winced as though he were about to slap her.
“Thank you.”
Now it was Rebecca’s turn to express surprise. “Excuse me?”
He cupped her face and kissed her cheek earnestly. “Thank you!”
Rebecca looked at him quizzically.
“I was a slave to that man since I was a boy. I could not wait to take his place. To fix the world. I remember the day he took me down to the factory floor of The Corporation and showed me what was to be mine. I did not like what I saw. I kept my mouth shut. I silently vowed I would mend the weary and make right their lives. With the way my father lived, however, I was destined to be a very old man by the time I was able to do anything, but you fixed that.”
Rebecca’s mouth hung ajar.
Prince Andrew kindly placed his finger beneath her chin and shut it. “I know you must be shocked to hear such a thing.”
Rebecca nodded slowly. Her heart beat again for the first time in months. Her mind began racing with questions. “My mother died at the hands of your father while working at The Corporation as a mender. In her diary she mentioned a machine he was building. What was it?”
“That old thing?” Prince Andrew waved his hand nonchalantly. “It was an air ship.”
“My mother was convinced he would be sending it to the hamlet to drown us in ash and wipe out our people.”
Prince Andrew folded his arms. “Most likely. But that will never happen when I am King and Chief Executive Officer of The Corporation.”
“How can I know you are telling the truth?”
“Because that air ship makes a much more impressive means of transportation across the kingdoms to serve my subjects than a device of doom and gloom.”
Rebecca was still on edge, not sure if she could trust him or not. Her muscles became less tense until he slid his arm around her waist and leaned his head against hers. “Forgive me for my imprudence, but I’d like to properly thank my savior.”
Before Rebecca could utter a word, he gently sealed his mouth to hers. Rebecca raised on her toes, her head spinning. And though her heart protested, her body responded.
Quarren’s voice echoed in her memory, warning about the prince the night of their mission. Khronos, Prince Andrew was everything Quarren warned he was.
Rebecca swallowed hard and pushed the prince away, dashing toward the door. She hoisted her gown to move more quickly and stumbled down the stairs. As her carriage wheeled away, she turned her head to see the prince stooping on the steps and holding a brass slipper. Rebecca looked down at her feet. One was bare.
XII
Rebecca wept by the forge fire. She wrung her wrist and rocked back and forth on her knees, feeling as though she had betrayed both her mother and Quarren. She had revealed that her mother had secrets and had been
snooping about at the height of King Andrus’s reign. She had betrayed Quarren by allowing herself to be kissed.
Hastily she grabbed a nub of charcoal on the ground near the forge fire and darkened in the names upon her wrist.
Lilly.
Quarren.
She filled them again.
Lilly.
Quarren.
Again and again until there was no charcoal left, and it crumbled beneath her finger tips. She sobbed again. The prince knew too much about her. He’d come looking for her. And then what? Oh, Khronos, and then what?!
Prince Andrew had been charming, and kind, and surprising. It was hard not to warm to him. Rebecca could fill her mother’s death bed request and marry him. She could make a better world by his side if that is what he truly wanted. And if he were lying, she could destroy the remainder of the royal family from the inside out.
But marrying him was betraying Quarren. How could she honor the requests of both of the people whom she loved so deeply?
Then it came to her. Prince Andrew would inevitably comb the kingdoms for her. He would find her. He would propose. He needed a bride so that he could become Chief Executive Officer of The Corporation and king over the lands. Rebecca could accept. And then… then she could fulfill her destiny while remaining true to both Lady Lilly Tremaine and Quarren. It would be a better world at last. It would come at a high price, but Quarren had already paid so handsomely, sacrificing his life.
Rebecca felt a vital cog was missing from The Great Wheel. It did not seem to work as well without him in it. But she knew she could fix it by accepting the proposal. She would be close to the prince and closer than she ever had before to The Corporation. Yes, this would work nicely. She would help Prince Andrew cleanse the world. That’s all every one wanted. Wasn’t it?
Rebecca laced her hands together and bowed her head, asking Maker Khronos for guidance on what was to come as well as forgiveness. Though she still dreaded it, she prayed Prince Andrew would come and find her soon.
A month passed and word finally reached their kingdom that His Royal Highness Prince Andrew, Future Chief Executive Officer of The Corporation had been sighted. He sought the one who fit the brass shoe embellished with tiny cogs.
When the last house was exhausted, he finally found his way to the cottage on the edge of the hamlet. A great shadow cast itself over Farmer Diggory’s field of golden wheat. All were in awe at the air ship that puttered along and settled quietly, if squashing part of Farmer Diggory’s harvest. The Prince promised to reimburse the man for his loss as soon as he found the girl that matched the slipper. He even humored Mrs. Diggory with a fitting. They suggested he try the ladies at the Tremaine estate. He hastily borrowed Hank and cantered up the road, ever gallant, even if Hank’s idea of a canter these days was plodding with great effort.
Prince Andrew swung off the old gelding’s back, smoothed over his suit, and before he could even rap upon the door it swung open to him and he was greeted enthusiastically by Brunhilda who promptly sat him down in a chair and offered her foot to him. Cassandra brushed her aside, insisting she was going about it all wrong, and pushed the prince out of the chair so that she may seat herself instead.
She wiggled her toes as she proffered her foot. The shoe did not fit. Cassandra grit her teeth and yanked the shoe from the prince’s hands, insisting it had to fit. When it still did not fit, she demanded a dagger be given to her so that she may slice off her own big toe. Which she did. Much to the horror of Brunhilda.
Hesperia merely stood serenely, hands clasped together before her, forefingers touching, a cold smile curling her mouth. The color in Prince Andrew’s face drained. He asked Brunhilda if she would like to try again. Cassandra’s head flopped back as she bled into the copper shoe. She sank in the chair, forcing a triumphant smile upon her face. She passed the bloody dagger to Brunhilda who took it, but shook her head adamantly. Apparently being a princess was not worth the price of self mutilation.
Seeing how Cassandra was incapacitated at the moment, the prince looked around and asked Hesperia if there were any other ladies about the estate, any at all. Hesperia rolled her eyes and called for the Girl.
Rebecca came down the stairs calmly. Brunhilda eagerly shoved the dagger into Rebecca’s hands and darted out the door, turning a springly shade of green.
By now, Prince Andrew’s escorts had caught up to him breathlessly. They helped Cassandra move to a bench at the table so that Rebecca may sit. She smiled at the prince and offered her foot. He cleaned the shoe before sliding it onto Rebecca’s foot.
“A perfect fit.” As the Prince looked up with a smile, Rebecca plunged the dagger into the hollow curve of his collarbone. Her eyes were wild.
Prince Andrew’s mouth opened and closed like a fish as Rebecca murmured, “And we all live happily ever after.”
The prince collapsed on the floor, blood pooling around him. Rebecca looked up, clenching the dagger, wide-eyed and breathing hard.
Hesperia’s face was white. Her mouth opened slightly ajar. The escorts crouched beside Prince Andrew.
“What have you done?” Hesperia hissed.
Rebecca rose, trembling. “I have saved the world. You should thank me.”
The escorts seized her. It was the first time in her life she did not fight back.
Rebecca stood shackled before the court of cogs, bedraggled and unkempt. She did not fight. She kept her eyes to the ground. The guards guided her toward the bar.
The judge looked down his long eagle nose over wiry spectacles. His black robes shined in the light streaming through a tall window to the left. His periwig sat perfectly atop his pate. On the wall behind him loudly ticked a clock of many and various gears and cogs. The clock’s pendulum swung ominously.
At last the judge spoke. “Lady Rebecca Tremaine, you stand here accused of high treason and charged with the assassination of His Royal Highness Prince Andrew, Future Chief Executive Officer of The Corporation. How do you plead?”
Rebecca’s chains clinked softly. The room was thick with a hush. She inched her bare toes toward the stream of light before them, relishing the warmth. A slow smile crept upon her face. She raised her head and looked the judge bracingly in the eye. “Undeniably, undoubtedly, incontestably, and indubitably guilty.”
“Lady Tremaine, you speak these words as though it is something to be pleased about. Does it please you to know you face the most severe of penalties?”
“It does, Your Honor, for soon the skies will clear, The Great Wheel will renew herself, and the clock people will be safe once again. I cannot, will not, shall not protest my pleasure in knowing that. I am guilty. Guilty as the thief is hungry.”
The judge jotted down something on a parchment with a feather quill and ink. He glanced over the spectacles resting at the end of his nose. “Rebecca, you are a menace to society and a danger to yourself. I hereby and forthwith condemn you to life in prison where you will idle away the last of your days with no redemption for your actions. May Khronos have mercy on your sorry, tarnished brass.”
The guards marched on. The halls grew darker until they wound down a dark stone staircase. Rebecca plodded along compliantly, her copper chains dragging and scraping along the stones beneath her feet. Torchlight reached up from the floor below, dancing on the cold wall. The smell of standing water and human waste filled the air. A fat, black rat squeaked by.
Rebecca’s eyes remained forward, unflinchingly. The guards led her to a cell at the farthest end of the prison, isolated from the others. A heavy door with a single, small grill at eye level was the only entrance.
The guards remained silent as they removed a large iron ring of many keys and opened the door. They escorted Rebecca inside. The door groaned and shut with a formidable finality.
Rebecca stood in the light of a single window that showed only a little piece of sky that grew a tiny bit clearer day by day.
EPILOGUE
“That is it then? That is your tale, is it?”
>
Lady Rebecca Tremaine, Savior of the Clock People, and Martyr of the Time Keepers remained silent. Dawn had come again. A bird darted by on joyful wing. The spring air smelled fresh and cool.
“That is not a tale. That is a travesty.”
Rebecca clenched her fists. “No.”
“Pardon?” Lord Robert Tremaine asked.
She gazed over her shoulder. “My tale is a tragedy. Your tale is a travesty.”
“Why is that? What is the difference between my tale and yours, other than I am an innocent man?”
“Are you, Lord Robert Tremaine? No man knows innocence after infancy. Once Maker Khronos hammers the cog, all innocence is lost. I have been forged. I am strong. I am the cog that caused The Great Wheel to move once more when she had been standing still. And you…” She turned to him, nearly spitting on his polished shoe. “You are broken. You must be removed.”
At that very moment the door swung open and guards seized Lord Robert Tremaine. They had listened to the entire tale. Rebecca had testified against him through her tragic story. It was determined that her actions stemmed from the emotional damage her father had done unto her by leaving her alone, and after, in the care of the abusive Hesperia, Cassandra, and Brunhilda.
Robert was taken outside and met the fate all cogs did when they had outlasted their usefulness. Melted down in the pyre.
Rebecca’s nosed wrinkled at the stink of it as the smoke wafted into her cell. She crossed to the bench in the dark corner, and picked a sharpened bone she had fashioned over the years, from under a stone. There she sat and carved in one last name beneath Quarren’s.
Lord Robert Tremaine.
“All dead by my hand,” she whispered. “I am free.”
A few moments later, Lady Rebecca Tremaine, Savior of the Clock People, and Martyr of the Time Keepers, the cog who saved the clock people and forced The Great Wheel to move, stopped ticking.
Pyp, Arrow, and Henrietta Bartleby were secretly present amongst the crowd when they lit the pyre for Rebecca. They joined hands as they watched one of Maker Khronos’s most useful cogs melt away. A single whisper trailed from Pyp’s lips, “Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.”