Chainbreaker

by Tara Sim

  “Yes,” he said softly. “Can a message be sent to London?”

  “Of course. Where to?”

  “The office of Clock Mechanics Affairs.”

  “Let’s see.” He tampered with the telegraph and nodded. “What’s the message?”

  Danny curled his hand into a damp fist, then loosened it. “Christopher’s son is alive and well.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Danny left the tent in a daze. It was only by luck that he managed to stumble upon Akash.

  “Anything?” Akash asked.

  “I found out where Lytton’s camp is. And I sent a wire to Agra for Dryden.”

  Akash looked impressed, and also a little scared. “What did you say?”

  “That we need assistance here, if they understand the message.”

  “And if they don’t? What do we do then?”

  “Then we’ll need to figure this out ourselves.”

  “Oh, good,” Akash mumbled. “And here I thought it would be something difficult.”

  Daphne was thinking about her mother. It had been painful spending Christmas here, in spite of the soldiers’ quaint festivities (mostly drunken caroling). She knew her mother would be disappointed that she hadn’t come to visit. Or at least, it was her selfish hope that her mother had even noticed her absence.

  But a messenger from Dryden drove all thoughts of guilt from her mind.

  She hurried to the counsel building. Meena and Crosby were already there. The major paced, scowling at the floor. Daphne skidded to a stop, grabbing the back of a chair.

  “What happened?” she asked them.

  “There’s been a wire from Delhi,” Dryden said, pointing to a piece of paper on the table. Daphne snatched it up and read it.

  “But what does it mean?” She read it again. “D.H. is Danny Hart.”

  “That is what we believe, yes,” Dryden said gravely.

  “And V. L.? Who or what is that?”

  “We think it stands for Viceroy Lytton.”

  Daphne frowned. “Viceroy Lytton? Why would the viceroy require Danny’s service?” Where the hell has he been? Why didn’t he come back to Agra? Is Akash with him?

  Crosby plucked the message from her fingers. “That is what we are undecided on. I still say it’s a false message. A trap of some sort.”

  “A trap for who, Lieutenant?”

  Daphne looked at Meena, who was tugging on her braid and staring at the letter still in Crosby’s hand. As the men argued, she calmly cleared her throat.

  “‘God save the Queen’ could mean that Danny is in the durbar itself, rather than the city,” Meena said.

  The other three fell silent, considering the possibility.

  “It’s far more likely he’s at the clock tower,” Dryden said.

  “Then we must go there,” Meena said. “Either way, we have to find him.”

  “Indeed. Crosby, I want you to gather a small search party and head up to Delhi. Join the clock tower guard.”

  “Sir, tomorrow’s New Year. The coronation.”

  “Yes, and everyone will have their eyes elsewhere,” Dryden said, “so we can smuggle Mr. Hart out without fuss.”

  “But what’s he even doing there?” Daphne demanded. “This isn’t like him. Major, please let me go. I need to speak with Danny and find out what’s going on.”

  “Miss Richards, I’m sure that once he’s back here, he’ll be able to tell us exactly what’s happened.”

  “Sir, please.”

  Crosby gave the major a look that plainly said he was tired of this nonsense, and Dryden sighed.

  “I’m sorry, but after what happened in Meerut”—he nodded to Meena—“I will not risk the lives of any more clock mechanics in this camp. Not even for the Delhi tower.”

  Fuming, Daphne turned and stalked out, Meena on her heels.

  “Akash might be there, too,” Meena whispered. “Do you think he’s with Danny?”

  “I hope so. Even if he is, I have to go. Something’s not right. The way Danny worded his message, it’s as though there’s something else he couldn’t say.”

  She didn’t realize they were walking toward Colton’s room until they were right in front of it. Daphne took a deep breath and unlocked the door.

  Colton stood as they entered. In one hand, he held the picture of Danny.

  “There’s been news,” Daphne said. “We think Danny is in Delhi.”

  “Are we going to find him?”

  “The major says I can’t go, but I’ll find a way. Don’t worry, Colton. I’ll bring him back.”

  Colton stuffed the picture into his pack. “You have to take me with you.”

  Daphne glanced at Meena. “Colton—”

  “You have to.” He put his hands on her shoulders, the most interaction they’d ever had. It felt strange, like the air around them shifted slightly to acknowledge her. “Daphne, please. I know he’s in danger. I have to help him.”

  “You’re in danger, too, if you haven’t forgotten.”

  Colton stubbornly set his jaw. “If you leave me here, I’ll reveal myself. If people are looking for me, I’ll let them find me.”

  Daphne swore and rubbed her hands over her face. “You’re just as bad as he is.”

  Yet life had been breathed back into Colton. His amber eyes, ominously vacant until now, were suddenly lit with determination like the pop and flare of a bonfire. Hoping she wouldn’t regret it, Daphne gestured toward the door.

  “Come on, then.”

  Wearing the cog holder on his back, Colton grabbed his pack and followed Daphne and Meena into the deep evening blues outside. Meena looked nervous walking around with a clock spirit, but no one else could feel the pull coming off of Colton’s body. To the soldiers, he was just a boy who may or may not have been lost.

  Daphne’s plan was to find an auto and drive to Delhi, but when she shared her idea with Meena, the girl stopped her short.

  “We can’t,” she whispered. “The autos are locked and the keys are all hanging in the major’s rooms. He’ll know we’ve taken one within minutes.”

  So much for doing this on her own.

  Then a new thought took hold. “The officers have their own keys, don’t they?”

  “Yes.”

  There was only one officer she trusted in this cantonment.

  They found Captain Harris packing an auto with Partha. Daphne breathed a sigh of relief.

  “You’ve heard, then.”

  Harris turned around, startled. Partha looked between him and the girls, frowning.

  “Heard?” Harris repeated blankly.

  “About Danny.”

  “Oh—yes. Mr. Hart’s wire.”

  Daphne squared her shoulders. “The major is sending you and Crosby to Delhi, but we want to go, too. I’m asking you to take us.”

  “I … what?” Harris frowned at Colton. “And who’s this?”

  “Captain, Danny might be in trouble. We have to go.”

  Harris rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think this is a good idea. It’s better for you to stay here, where it’s safe.”

  “We’re not safe anywhere, apparently!”

  “Miss Richards, please—”

  “Captain,” Meena said softly, uncertainly, “if you do not take us to Delhi, then I will be forced to tell the major your secret.”

  The blood drained from Harris’s face, and Partha’s head shot up, eyes wide with horror. Meena winced at their reactions, but didn’t lower her gaze. The men looked at each other as though they’d both been sentenced to the gallows.

  “Secret?” Daphne repeated. “What secret?”

  “That they are lovers,” Meena said.

  Daphne looked at the two of them again, only now seeing the signs. The soldiers stood stricken. Meena looked miserable.

  Colton stepped forward, his expression wondering. “You’re like us, then.”

  Harris looked him up and down again. “What? Who are you
?”

  “I’m … I’m Danny’s …” Colton looked at Meena, who finally dropped her gaze. “Lover.”

  Again, the captain and the sepoy were struck speechless. Daphne balled her hand into a fist, feeling her heartbeat struggle against her palm.

  “I promise to keep any secrets you may have,” Colton said, “but please, help us. Help him. What if he were in danger?” Colton pointed to Partha, who looked away.

  “You’re the one he spoke of,” Harris murmured. Shaking his head, the captain took a steadying breath. “If we bring you to Delhi, will you promise not to say anything about Partha and me?”

  “I give you my word,” Meena said.

  Harris exchanged another helpless look with Partha. “We’ll leave before daybreak.”

  “Can’t we go now?” Daphne demanded.

  “The major will suspect something. The men will be celebrating the New Year at midnight. If we stay until then and make a show of going to bed, we’ll be in the clear.”

  “Don’t worry,” Colton told her. “I’ll make sure they won’t leave without us.” He unceremoniously climbed into the backseat of the auto and locked himself inside, arms crossed.

  “Captain, you do promise to take us?” Daphne insisted. “You won’t go back on your word?”

  He cast his eyes skyward, as if pleading with the heavens. “Lord help me, but yes, I promise.”

  Daphne bent toward the window. Colton met her gaze.

  “You’ll be all right here?” He nodded. “We’ll be back soon.”

  She glanced at Harris and Partha, urgently whispering to each other. Lovers, she thought with renewed surprise. Before turning away, she looked into the back of the auto, where Harris and Partha had stored their rifles. She supposed it was better to take precautions. There was no telling what they would find in Delhi.

  Or who.

  As Danny and Akash prowled through the tents, stars began to speckle the sky. In the cantonment, it wasn’t irregular to see soldiers drunk and singing at three in the morning. Since tonight was New Year’s, the soldiers were taking full advantage of having no curfew.

  “Huh,” Danny said. “Tomorrow it’ll be 1877.”

  “And your queen’s big day. Do you think Dryden has seen your message?” Akash asked as the gas lamps around them flared to life.

  “I hope so. He must have the means to speak with Lytton.”

  “And if Lytton won’t listen?”

  Danny threw his hands in the air. “Then the man will just have to be—” He checked himself, swallowing the word. “Let’s not dwell on that, all right?”

  “Danny,” Akash said softly, “why are you doing this, anyway? Whose side are you on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You see how they treat us. You haven’t even seen the worst of it. If I told you some of what I’ve seen and heard …” He shook his head. “I thought you knew this occupation was wrong.”

  “Of course it’s wrong,” Danny whispered back. “I don’t want India to be a prize for the Queen. I don’t want our soldiers to humiliate yours. I don’t want a Black Raj.”

  “Then why—?”

  “Because you know what a second rebellion would do? People would die. Your people, and mine. And we’d be stuck in the middle of it all. Daphne and I might never be able to go home. I might never …”

  He might never see Colton again.

  “So your answer is to let this oppression continue,” Akash said, voice flat.

  “No! That’s—I don’t know. There’s no black and white here. You think one side is the villain and one is the hero, but that’s not the case. It’s more complicated than that.” He paused. “Do you think I’m evil?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Good, I don’t think you’re evil, either. Or Meena. What about Daphne? Think she’s evil?”

  Akash’s eyes shifted. “No.”

  “And yet there are cruel people on both sides of this potential rebellion. Violence will only create more violence. It won’t ever stop, don’t you see that?” Danny rubbed his eyes, exhausted. “Besides, if this plan succeeds, the rebels are going to help Zavier take down more towers. I can’t risk that.”

  It was an argument he knew he shouldn’t even take part in, given who he was and where he was from. Akash and his people deserved better than that. In truth, Danny still didn’t know where right or wrong stood, or if he was even within sight of their horizons. Maybe it was enough to constantly be in search of the difference.

  And hoping, in the end, he chose the lesser evil.

  He dropped his hands and lifted his chin in the direction they’d been walking. “Let’s keep going.”

  They studied the tents, looking for a senior officer. But the officers must have all been celebrating elsewhere; Danny and Akash only saw low-ranking soldiers, laughing and popping party crackers. One kept shouting “Happy New Year!” to anyone who passed by.

  Danny slowed to a stop when he heard a voice say Lytton. Akash stopped beside him, and Danny motioned them to the tent from where he’d heard the voice. Standing in the shadows, they cocked their ears. The majority of words were in Hindi.

  “What are they saying?” Danny whispered.

  “I think there are a few rajas inside. They’re complaining about a party the viceroy held a few days ago. The British officers were making fun of the rajas in English, forgetting the rajas know English quite well.”

  Danny rolled his eyes. “No one’s ever happy here, are they?” A thought struck him, and he let out a groan. “What if the rajas are in on it, too? What if some of them are rebels?”

  Akash nodded reluctantly. “It’s possible.”

  “You there!”

  They spun around. A British lieutenant was moving in their direction, mustache aquiver.

  “What are you two doing, loitering about in the dark?”

  “We—We were just—” As Danny hesitated, Akash swayed beside him and leaned against his shoulder. He made a motion like he was doing up his trouser lacings.

  “Had to relieve myself, sahib,” Akash slurred. “Haaappy New Year!”

  The lieutenant looked him over, disgusted. “For Heaven’s sake, do that away from the rajas’ tents! I’ll have your head on a spike if I catch you at this again. You, there. Make sure this one gets to his tent tonight.”

  “Yes, sir.” The lieutenant made to leave, but Danny sprang forward. “Sir? I was wondering what the schedule for tomorrow will be.”

  “Your senior officer hasn’t told you?”

  “I don’t believe so. Not in any detail.”

  “The viceroy will give his speech in the morning. Each regiment has their own place on the parade grounds, so I would suggest asking your senior officer where that is. You lot will be toward the back, I wager. After the viceroy’s speech will be a feu-de-joie, and after the ceremony, you are to go back to your post immediately.”

  Both Danny and Akash jumped at the now-familiar French phrase. “Feu-de-joie?” Danny repeated. “What does that mean?”

  The lieutenant grunted. “The salute, boy, the gun salute.”

  Gun salute. “Thank you, sir.”

  The lieutenant gave Akash one last look of disgust before he turned and walked away.

  Danny swore. “The assassin might be planning to shoot the viceroy during the salute.”

  “How do we stop him?”

  Danny shook his head. He had no idea.

  There was a sudden commotion as the countdown to midnight began. The soldiers called out “Three! Two! One!” before a tumultuous cheer rose above the tents. Danny clapped along with the rest, but the moment’s impact was lost on him. He was already living several hours from now, in the light of an uncertain dawn.

  They found Akash’s tent first. Other sepoys had taken off their shoes outside. Akash did the same, but looked helplessly at Danny.

  “What if the real Chopra is inside?”

  “Then pretend you’re drunk and sleep on the floor.”

&nbs
p; Akash glanced up and down the street, then leaned in, lowering his voice. “There’s nothing we can do if the rebel’s plan is already in motion. You must know that.”

  “We’ll see what the morning brings.”

  Danny found his own tent and slipped inside, hoping no one would talk to him. A few of the cots were empty. Danny took off his boots and the outer jacket of his uniform, then curled up on a cot with his back to everyone else. He wondered where the real Wilson was, and if he had been assigned to another tent. That was, quite honestly, the least of his worries.

  He held the small cog as the other soldiers settled down, wishing that he could Stop time, that he could prevent this disaster from happening.

  But this wasn’t Enfield.

  Really, who was the villain here? Zavier? The rebels? The British?

  He didn’t know.

  He was afraid to find out.

  Morning came an eternity later, and Danny still had no ideas. The soldiers got up to shave and don their best uniforms, but Danny had to settle for wrinkled trousers.

  He found Akash in the mess, where the soldiers shoveled porridge into their mouths like it was a competition. Akash didn’t look like he’d slept, either.

  “What are we going to do?” Akash asked.

  “Just look out for anything suspicious. If we see an officer, we can try to convince him. Otherwise, we’ll have to wait for Dryden.”

  If Dryden was even coming.

  And there was still the matter of the clock tower. Danny’s power kept straining toward it; he wished he could duplicate himself and guard the tower with the soldiers inside the city. Zavier was nearby, he was sure of it. He could imagine him on the observation deck of the Prometheus, waiting for his chance to strike.

  The soldiers filed out of the mess into a clear yet strangely chilly dawn. The men were in high spirits, their hair slicked back and boots shined to perfection. Danny noticed a few disapproving glances at his messy state.

  On the parade grounds, ranks of infantry and cavalry marched with banners and standards fluttering in the wind, their drums puncturing the air with deep, reverberating pulses. The rhythm synced with Danny’s heartbeat and made his chest ache. He looked at the other regiments already in position, flawless squares of bodies all turned toward the dais where the replica of the Queen’s throne sat. Someone had brought a large portrait of Her Majesty and placed it on the throne, a gaudy if necessary reminder of why they were all gathered.