The Emperor of Mars

by Patrick Samphire

  The strange arrangement of delicate brass rods and balls, like an enormous sculpture of a crouching man (or possibly a collapsed clothes dryer), that I’d seen the curators trying to maneuver into the gallery stood by the bottom of the steps.

  Not all the artifacts were there. Some had been completely destroyed when Sir Titus Dane had plunged his excavator into the tomb, and others—the ones considered too dangerous for public display—had been discreetly taken away by the British Martian government for analysis. But even so, looking down the steps into the gallery felt eerily like being back in that tomb.

  On the far side of the gallery, Dr. Guzman had cornered Jane. I would have felt guilty, except that Jane had managed to also corner Mr. Davidson, and the three of them stood in an awkward, polite huddle just to the left of the dragon’s tail.

  “It’s … incredible,” Mina breathed, coming to a halt at the top of the steps. Her eyes were wide, and right now she looked scarcely older than Putty.

  “You should have seen it when we discovered it,” I said.

  She turned to me. “You found it?”

  I shrugged, trying to look like it was something I did every day.

  “Wow.”

  “I was more interested in saving my family,” I said. “They were kidnapped by a man called Sir Titus Dane. He and Dr. Blood would have killed them if I hadn’t rescued them.”

  She glanced away. “All this … You didn’t want to keep any of it?”

  “I found a dragon’s egg,” Putty said. “I kept that. Except no one knows, so you can’t say anything.”

  Mina stared at Putty. “You did? A dragon’s egg?”

  “The only one ever.”

  Mina closed her eyes.

  “Are you all right?” I said.

  She shook her head. “Your lives … I’ve never met anyone like you. I just…” She shook her head. “Your family is incredible.”

  I cleared my throat awkwardly. “Well. Shall we go in? I think it’s about to begin.”

  Papa and his curators had done a fantastic job of analyzing and repairing the artifacts from the tomb. Although some stood inactive, others were already back in operation. The smooth hum of spring-powered devices filled the room. In one corner, a group of men clustered around some strange, three-dimensional game that consisted of hundreds of different-shaped pieces arranged on half a dozen moving levels. Another machine was building a copy of itself from pieces scattered around it.

  “There you are!”

  I turned to see Olivia squeezing her way through the crowd toward us.

  “Papa’s been waiting for you to arrive so he can start his speech.” She glanced at Mina. “Hello.”

  “He really didn’t have to. Um. This is Mina. Mina, my sister, Olivia.”

  Olivia took Mina’s hand. “I’m delighted to make your acquaintance. Putty told me all about you.” She turned to me, grinning widely. “All about you.”

  I glared at her. “Isn’t Papa about to make a speech?”

  Olivia waved her free hand carelessly. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m far more interested in finding out about your friend.” She looped Mina’s hand through her arm. “I’m sure we have lots to talk about.” For the first time since I’d met her, Mina looked totally lost. Olivia gave me another grin. “Go and stare at a rock or something.”

  “This is not going to end well,” I muttered to myself as Olivia led Mina off.

  Someone cleared their throat behind me. I glanced back to see one of the junior curators hovering a couple of yards away.

  “Ah!” he exclaimed. “Master Edward. I had been looking for you.”

  I frowned. “It’s Dr. Tremaine, isn’t it?”

  “Is it?” he said. “Are we truly our names, or are our names us? Should you better say, Dr. Tremaine is you?”

  I closed my eyes for a moment. Now I remembered why I’d avoided Dr. Tremaine. He was probably the most irritating man in the museum, and that was saying something.

  “What can I do for you, Dr. Tremaine?”

  “An excellent question, young man. Indeed, what can you do for me? I am reminded of a treatise by Professor—”

  “You were looking for me,” I interrupted.

  “Indeed. Indeed. And now I have found you. Should we perhaps conclude that I have achieved my objective and that there is now no more to be said or done? A great accomplishment! A feat worthy of the history books!”

  “Are we finished, then?” Putty said, hopping impatiently from foot to foot. “I want to go and look at the exhibits. I’m certain some of the designs could be improved.”

  Dr. Tremaine’s white eyebrows shot up. “Improved? What an astounding idea, young lady. These are not dolls or dresses for you to play with. I’m sure you could, ah-ha-ha, make them pretty, but that is not their function. No, not at all. Baubles and ribbons, and suchlike. I am amused. I laugh.”

  He reached out a hand, as though to pat her on the head. I quickly inserted myself between them before she could bite it off.

  “So what did you want me for, Dr. Tremaine?” I said.

  He looked surprised. “Have I not said? No? Well. It has come to my attention that you were inquiring of one of my colleagues about a gentleman of, ah, native persuasion who was to be found perusing the exhibits.”

  “You saw him?”

  “Indeed not. What makes you think such a thing?”

  I stared at him.

  “My little joke! I did indeed see him, although I thought little of it. No, Dr. Guzman, for it was he who was source of said information, informed me that you were also interested in a fellow who approached him in a coffee house. Not your fellow, another fellow. We must consider them distinct entities for the purposes of this conversation, and indeed, for all other purposes.”

  Putty groaned loudly.

  Dr. Tremaine cleared his throat. “It appears, and it is indeed a fact, that the fellow approached me also. He asked me about the items being considered for display in your father’s gallery. He seemed well dressed and reasonably knowledgeable about artifacts, so I humored him. The museum is always looking for donors, you know. Our funds never suffice. It soon became clear that the fellow was interested in one particular artifact, and I must say that I was surprised, because it is not an artifact of significance, nor would its existence be widely known.”

  That was more than Dr. Guzman had found out from Dr. Blood. Dr. Blood must have tried a different tactic after Dr. Guzman turned him down.

  “What was it?” I said, looking around the gallery.

  “Nothing you will see here, I assure you. Did I not say it was not of significance? We may be poor fools at the museum, but we are not given to displaying items of little worth.” He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

  “Very amusing,” I said, through gritted teeth, and resisted the urge to punch him.

  “Indeed. Indeed. The fellow was interested in a casket made of sandstone. A miniature sarcophagus no longer than my arm.”

  I felt Putty jerk next to me. “Edward…” she hissed.

  I laid a hand on her shoulder, quieting her. Putty had found that sarcophagus in the dragon tomb. At first I’d thought it had been for a baby, but it had held the dragon’s egg that Putty had kept as a souvenir.

  “What was his interest in the casket?” I asked casually.

  Dr. Tremaine’s lip curled in displeasure. “The fellow asked me to obtain it for him. He wanted to buy it. He would pay the museum a large fee, and he offered me a ridiculous sum to carry out the transaction.” He straightened. “The casket may be of little historical value, but it is the property of the Museum of Martian Antiquities, and it is part of the great picture of Martian history. It was not for sale. I informed the fellow as such, and that was an end to it.”

  “But you didn’t tell anyone?”

  “I assumed the fellow to be a private collector. It would not be the first time that a collector had attempted to obtain an item from the museum, and I am afraid to say that not all of my collea
gues are so, ah, conscientious in their attitudes. I dismissed him from my thoughts, and that should have been the end of the matter. Except that when he approached me in the coffee house, he had been sitting with two other, ah, less salubrious gentlemen. Quite uncouth in their appearance. Dr. Guzman told me he saw them, too. They stuck in my mind, because they did not seem the correct company for a gentleman of means. And then I glimpsed them the next day in the museum. Failing to persuade me to obtain their artifact, it was my assumption that these men intended to steal it themselves.”

  “You didn’t try to stop them?”

  Dr. Tremaine lifted his chin. “The artifact in question is locked in a highly secure room in the basement. They could not hope to get it, and indeed it remains in the museum’s possession. The fellows have not returned. I believe my course of action was entirely appropriate, that is to say my action took no particular course, and as a result caused no inappropriate actions. I put it from my mind.”

  “And?” I said.

  “Indeed. ‘And,’ indeed. It was not until I heard of your inquiries about the native personage from Dr. Guzman yesterday that I recalled the coincidence of incidents. Those men had been in the museum on the same day as your Martian. I had seen them heading for the same gallery. It seemed likely to me that the two were connected. It is my conclusion that both your Martian and these rough fellows were in league. Your fellow, I conclude, was a thief. Indeed, there is no other possible conclusion.”

  I gritted my teeth. That confirmed what I’d already believed: Dr. Blood had been the one who’d taken Rothan Gal.

  He’d tried to bribe both Dr. Guzman and Dr. Tremaine to steal the sarcophagus, then sent his men after the fragment of ideograms Rothan Gal had been studying. But why? It still didn’t make any sense. What did he want with the sarcophagus of all things? It hadn’t even been impressive, just a hollowed-out block of stone with a hole in one end and a plain lid, only large enough to hold the single dragon’s egg. It was worth no more than the broken tablet of ideograms. I could have understood someone wanting to steal the dragon’s egg—it was unique, and probably valuable to a collector—but the egg wasn’t even in the sarcophagus anymore and Dr. Blood wasn’t a collector.

  Why was Dr. Blood trying to steal worthless items when we were in a gallery full of priceless discoveries?

  One thing I did know: Dr. Blood would have a reason for all this, and he wouldn’t give up. Dr. Tremaine might have confidence in the museum’s security, but I didn’t. I’d seen Dr. Blood’s mechanical crabs bring down an airship. If he wanted to get into that chamber, he would.

  I would have to move the sarcophagus. Hide it somewhere Dr. Blood would never think of looking. Stall his plans until Freddie or the British-Martian Intelligence Service could arrive to arrest him and end this forever.

  Except the sarcophagus was locked in a secure room behind six inches of steel and the most complicated lock I had ever heard of, one that would only open under Dr. Guzman’s hand.

  I glanced across the room to where Jane was still cornered by the junior-under-curator, second class.

  “Come on,” I told Putty, and started through the crowd.

  A shadow fell across the gallery, like a cloud crossing the sun.

  I looked up.

  A shape hung over the glass ceiling. It was a flier, a big one, the size of a small airship, and it was hovering low above the roof. The downdraft from its great copter blades beat against the glass ceiling, making the glass bow and shake in the frames.

  “He’s too close,” Putty said, puzzled, peering up. “What’s he doing?”

  Long, sinuous metal arms unwound and dropped from the flier, like jellyfish tentacles settling down above us. Claws closed around the ceiling struts.

  Then, with a single motion, they ripped the glass roof from the gallery.

  12

  Madness in the Museum

  Glass rained down.

  Screams sounded around me. I shoved Putty to the floor and threw myself over her. A splinter of shattered glass sliced across my jacket, narrowly missing my face.

  With a crash, the glass roof was tossed away. I jumped to my feet. People cowered on the stone floor. Others were already heading in panic for the gallery door. I saw Jane and Papa staring in shock from the far side of the gallery, but I couldn’t see Mina or Olivia. Where were they?

  “Look at that!” Putty said.

  The flier that had torn the roof from the gallery was separating into four parts, each held aloft by twin sets of copter blades.

  Figures leaped from the sides of the four fliers, landing with thumps into the gallery. At first I thought they were automatons, but then I saw men’s faces staring out through thick glass faceplates.

  “Clockwork armor!” Putty shouted in excitement.

  One of the men turned to us. He held a compressed-air gun in one armored hand. Cogs whirred as he brought it to bear.

  I lunged to one side, dragging Putty with me. A pop sounded as the bullet whizzed past me.

  “This way!” someone yelled.

  I spun around and saw Olivia waving wildly from behind a statue near one wall. She and Mina had sheltered there. They were all right! Thank heavens.

  There were crashes and shouts everywhere. Glass display cases shattered and artifacts tumbled to the floor. Panicked guests raced past. One by one, the four separated fliers lowered themselves through the gaping roof.

  I took advantage of the chaos and gave Putty a shove. “Go and help Olivia!”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get Jane.”

  I sprinted across the room to where Jane, Dr. Guzman, Mr. Davidson, and Papa were pressed against a wall. A fleeing curator slammed into me, knocking me to the floor. I scrambled back up.

  “Get out of here!” I yelled, waving wildly. “Get somewhere safe!”

  “My artifacts!” Papa wailed. “They’re destroying them. They’re destroying everything again.” He tore at his gray hair.

  I reached them, grabbed Papa by the arm, and pulled him toward where Mina, Olivia, and Putty were crouched. “Jane. Come on!”

  Jane looked scared, but she wasn’t panicking, unlike Mr. Davidson and Dr. Guzman. She glanced around, checking out the positions of the attackers, then grabbed Papa’s arm and helped me haul him around the edge of the room. Mr. Davidson and Dr. Guzman scuttled after us.

  The first flier leveled out ten feet off the floor. Its snake-like arms flailed around, snatching at artifacts and toppling them, adding to the chaos.

  Suddenly, Putty darted away from Olivia. Olivia snatched at her and missed. One of the flier’s arms lashed out, but Putty was too fast. She ducked under it and around behind the enormous brass rod-and-ball sculpture.

  That would never protect her. A single blow from the flier’s arms would crumple it.

  “Take Papa,” I said to Jane. If I slipped under the dragon’s belly, maybe I could reach her.

  The flier spun in the air, turning to Putty.

  Putty reached for the base of the artifact and pressed something. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the artifact sprang into the air, brass rods spreading like a thousand thin arms, right into the path of the flier. As they collided, the arms clamped tight onto the flier, wrapping around the copter blades. Metal screamed. Cogs jumped.

  The flier dropped.

  The impact crumpled it. Copter blades plowed into the wall with a shriek.

  Then Putty was up and running back to Olivia and Mina.

  Papa had stopped dead, his mouth hanging open.

  “That’s what it does,” he muttered, rubbing at his eyeglasses.

  I grabbed his arm again and we raced for shelter.

  “We need to get out of the museum,” Mina said as we reached them. “Outside we can run. Here we’ll be trapped.”

  “Not out the front,” I said. “We’d never make it across the square.”

  “You think they’re after you?” Mina said.

  The other fliers spread across
the gallery. The armored men herded the last of the crowd out of the door.

  “They’re Dr. Blood’s men,” I said. “He’ll never let us get away. You should get out of here, though. You’ll be safe. We’ll find another way out.”

  She gave me a defiant look. “No. I’m not going to leave you to this.”

  “You’re not?” I said, staring. I’d given her the key cylinder. She’d gotten what she wanted. She could give it to her dad. Maybe he’d even be grateful. She didn’t have any reason to stay.

  “Edward!” Olivia clapped her hands in front of my face. “Wake up!”

  I blinked. Dr. Blood’s men were everywhere. In a few moments, we would be completely trapped. My heart was pounding so loud I could barely think. I hadn’t expected Dr. Blood to come after us so quickly and so hard. There had only been two militiamen on the door. They wouldn’t even slow Dr. Blood’s men down. If they’d had any sense, they would have gone for help. If they’d had the chance.

  “Get them out the back,” I shouted to Olivia. I pointed at the small curators’ entrance at the far end of the gallery. “Then through the rear of the museum. You can get to the docks. Find Captain Kol. He’ll help you. We’ll slow them down.” I glanced at Mina. “Any ideas?”

  “A few,” Mina grunted. “Maybe.”

  “Edward,” Putty warned. “Look.”

  Balancing on the lip of the roof above us was a single figure. He stood outlined by the bright Lunae Planum sun. Even in the glare, I recognized him, and my heart sank. As if men with clockwork armor and guns weren’t enough.

  “Apprentice,” I whispered.

  How were we supposed to fight him, too? Apprentice was Dr. Blood’s right-hand man. He wore a cloak covered in hundreds of clockwork bugs that would launch themselves in deadly attack on his command. Where his mouth and nose should have been was a metallic mask, clamped in place by thick staples that dug into the flesh, twisting his face horribly. He absolutely terrified me.

  Mina stared at me with shocked eyes. “You know him?”