Slipping, half-sobbing, Verity rolled onto the ledge.
"You made it," Liam called out.
Wearily she looked back towards them. It wasn't far, maybe only fifty feet, but it felt like a long way. She raised one hand and gave them a little wave, all the while wanting to claw out this insides of her own mouth. Moving with great care, she got to her knees, and then even more daringly her feet.
At any moment she felt like she might slip over backwards and plunge into the oil once more. As she rose, the lights on each side of the ditch of oil flared to life. Green life.
If Verity had any doubts they were in the wrong place, then here was the confirmation. Callinicus came here, and the city still held its secrets.
"Oh I say," Potts chirped, his head bobbling wildly. "Behind you, Miss Fitzroy!"
The slight lines carved into the surface that she'd only been able to make out with some difficultly, now flared as if lit from within. Again green.
And repeated in two languages she understood, Ancient Greek and Latin. Both were languages her father taught her—only fractionally behind English and just before French.
"I sleep. Do not waken me without due cause, " she read, even while her heart battered in her chest. "The drums of this place, spell disaster for those without ears to hear."
She presumed that this was a message from Callinicus himself. It was a thrill to see the words of someone who she admired, but she had to take seriously the threat from the man who had invented the Emerald Flame, the greatest weapon of the modern age.
The words then were a threat, and a reminder the secret she chased was very real.
The taste of the oil and the slipperiness under her feet faded to insignificance. She placed her hands on the surface, searching for some kind of secret entrance of passage. The oil on her palms burned when she pressed them against the stone, but she didn't pull them away.
The blank silence behind the stone began to fade away, and a sound began to reach her. It echoed up her hands and into the bones of her forearms. It did indeed resemble a drum beat.
Verity expected her Sound to bring her the click-clack of an engine at work, but this was more like...
"It's a heartbeat," she whispered her herself, and pressed her ear against the stone.
"Are you quite alright?" Potts called across the distance, but she ignored them. Nothing mattered to her now but the heartbeat growing louder and more powerful as it ran through her.
It was slower than hers, so much so that Verity thought of a sleeping giant. Could there be one behind this seal? After an undead pharaoh anything seemed possible.
Trying to get control of her own heartbeat, she slowed her breathing, listening with the Sound to both their heartbeats. She wasn’t sure how long it took, but eventually she managed to get her racing pulse to slow.
As it got closer in rhythm to that of the giant, she began to hear the swell of mechanical sounds rising, like an orchestra beginning to play. The Sound was there, beginning to grab hold. They were now in synch.
Half-opening her eyes, the seal shifted under her hands and cheek, sliding down and away. It was not a door as it turned out. A chamber beyond was far too small for that name; it was more the size of a wardrobe. Verity peered in, and saw it was more like the tiny cockpit of an ornithopter, if such a spot could be carved from stone. A narrow seat rested parallel to the door she'd just opened, and it too was made from the local rock. Whoever made the clockwork city did seem to have a strange love for stone for people who made clockwork. Tucked in against it was a roll of a ladder, something used to climb down, so maybe on the other side there was also a drop.
Without an explanation there was nothing for it, but to get in, because the wall at the other side had not opened in a similar manner.
With a long breath, Verity slipped into the seat. The last glimpse she had of her traveling companions was Emma with her hand over her mouth, while Liam put his arm awkwardly around her. Potts bright eyes flashed green for a moment before the door she'd entered slid shut.
Inside the now closed chamber, the only light came from the thin sheen of oil covering Verity and her clothing. Luminescent it should have comforted her in this dark space, but all she could think of was how close the walls were. Feeling around with her hands she could detect no levers or knobs to work.
What could be the purpose of this little space? Her breathing which she just got under control, began to come out in short gasps again. The heartbeat noise was no longer around her, and she found it had actually been somewhat comforting.
Sitting in the cold, confined space, she only barely held back panic. This was not a coffin, she told herself firmly, after all why would anyone go to such elaborate means to seal a person in like this? No, there simply had to be another reason.
Finally after a few minutes sitting in silence with only her own elevated breath to keep her company, the wall in front of her began to waver with green light. Verity rubbed her eyes just in case the oil had run into them, but it wasn't that. As she looked closer, she figured out that small perforations in the stone above, were letting some of the oil run down the surface of the stone.
No, it was not enough to flood this chamber, but it was a curious effect. Her hands gripped instinctually against the stone surface of the chair she sat on, and that was when the green changed. It began to ripple and form patterns that quickly became pictures.
Ships on an ocean, and she recognised them as Greek triremes. They were pumping gushes of the Emerald Flame onto other vessels sailing towards them.
The flutter of their sails was sketched in the green oil, and the effect was entrancing. She wondered if this was how the ancient machine would communicate.
When the voice boomed in the enclosed space, she almost jumped. It took Verity a moment to understand it spoke in Latin and translate it.
You have the Sound, you have the heart, but do you have the knowledge?
It was a man that spoke, and far better than she’d ever heard from any machine, apart from Potts. Maybe it was the actual voice of Callinicus. That would be incredible.
A rush of understanding filled her. It made sense that a city of ancient engineers would have the Sound as she did. It must have made their work so much easier, as it did for her. Beyond this point must lie all their best and most important secrets.
Laboratories and libraries, these were the things the archaeologists hadn’t discovered in the shallower parts of the city. “The deepest part holds everything,” Verity whispered to herself, and leaned forward to watch the green display shift once more. She couldn’t think how it was done, but she was certain it wasn’t clockwork.
Aether then, and she knew Una McTighe would have given anything to be sitting where she was now. Still it was not Verity’s strong suit, but she breathed a little easier when she saw the display arrange itself into something more familiar. Cranks, gears, mainsprings were sketched on the stone, but nothing was connected to anything. She stared for a moment, and then reaching out touched one of the parts described. It shifted slightly as her still oil stained finger moved. Verity frowned and then smiled.
Dragging the mainspring over, she connected it to the key and then in short order attached the gears to drive the crank. It was quickly obvious that she was constructing on the surface of the stone a very basic mechanism to drive an automaton.
Her fingers flew over the surface of the design. When everything was in place the green oil bled and drained away, only to be replaced with another set of parts, this time finer and more detailed.
The room didn’t matter anymore. Verity grinned as she put together this more complicated machine. When done it too faded away.
All in all she completed five diagrams, each getting more complex. Only the last one, a fully functional automaton with two dozen working joints, and a programmable interior mechanism, did the flow of oil drain away, not to be replaced with anything.
Verity felt a powerful sense of achievement, but also a little disappointmen
t. She hadn’t been so challenged since the Delancy Academy. It felt very satisfying to have her knowledge and skill tested like this. The display in front of her changed once again, this time showing a map of what was beyond the door. Laboratories, though they were not labelled as such. It was quite a complex the Byzantines built in here.
Then a moment later the doors on both sides of the chamber rotated up at the same time, and she smiled in triumph. Glancing back the way she’d come she saw the pit of oil draining away. Emma and Liam were at the edge ready to come across to her, while Potts rolled from side to side. Even the stuffy professor had to be excited by this new development, even if he wasn’t an engineer or an archaeologist.
Though she might now want any others coming with her, she found she didn’t want to go any further without someone by her side. She needed to share the wonder of the city with someone.
The grin was still on her face, as she slid out of the seat. Now the rolled up metallic ladder made sense. She was just in the process of unfurling it for her friends to make it, when a whirring and clanking noise, brought her head up suddenly.
Someone was coming down the corridor, someone mechanical, and worst of all she couldn’t use the Sound to make out who or what that was.
When Glennis Driscoll came around the bend, she was not alone. Two automatons, tall and shining bright with brass followed at her back. If that had been all, Verity would have felt better about things, but it was not.
One automaton’s long powerful fingers were clamped down on Christopher’s shoulder, blood dripping down where they were imbedded. The other automaton had a hand on Una and Julia McTighe. Christopher had obviously put up a fight, bloody and bruised as he was, the McTighes looked frightened but unharmed.
The Driscoll woman smiled, and gestured with a large sidearm. “So nice of you to solve the problem for me. Una’s daughter was telling her mother all about her. Luckily, I was listening.” She gave a shrug. “I was going to force Una to open the door, but I think I’ve changed my mind.”
Out of the corner of her eye Verity spotted Liam going for his boot knife, but she shot him a hasty shake of his head.
Easing herself down from the cockpit, Verity made her way towards the Welsh woman. The closer she got, she realized that Christopher must have resisted because his face was quite black and blue. He always did think of himself as a bruiser.
“Stay there,” Driscoll said, pointing to a spot a few feet in front of the automatons. Striding over to Emma, Liam and Potts, she let out a short laugh, produced some stout rope from her satchel, and tied them up. While she did so, Verity took the opportunity to communicate with Emma by use of their finger language.
Other tunnel in. Run interference. Can’t let her have it.
Driscoll found Liam’s knife and tossed it into the darkness. “Boy and their stupid toys,” she muttered under her breath. Once she’d finished her work, she tied up Christopher’s feet to go along with the bonds already on his wrists. It was unfortunately quite a professional job. Still as long as she thought them just foolish children, there was still hope.
Julia and her mother were already tied, but Verity soon found she wasn’t to escape all this rope trickery. Carefully she made sure to keep her wrists slightly apart, not enough to be noticed, but just the right amount to give her some wriggle room.
Potts tried to make an escape, waddling off on his little legs, seeming to forget all about his other form of perambulation. “I’ll bring help,” he bleeped over his ovoid shoulder, but the woman was faster.
“I could never get this stupid thing to shut up,” she snarled, scooping up Potts, while at the same time fishing out a flat, green glowing device.
“Unhand me woman! This is most undignified. I am a scholar of the sciences, not a paperweight,” he squawked but it was to no avail.
“Well,” she said with a wide grin, “now you are.” With a twist of the device on his outside, his arms and legs disappeared inside.
The automaton’s head bobbled wildly. “What have you done?” he wailed.
She banged the side of his round body. “Locked up like a chestnut.” Her grin was particularly nasty. “I should have done that back in London.”
So this was indeed her; the figure in the shroud of mist who had separated Alexander Potts from his body and stuffed him in his current form.
Verity glanced up at the fierce automatons now controlling them. It was obvious she had been able to perfect her craft. Now that Driscoll wrapped them up like a brace of pheasants, she had control of the situation, and there was the door waiting wide open for her.
How Verity would have been embarrassed if this got around the streets of London or worse—if Henry found out..
“Follow me,” their captor said, and one of the automaton’s clamped down on Verity’s shoulder, pushing her ahead of it. “We have a mystery to solve, and I feel you women can provide all the answers.”
Julia and Una shared a look, but neither said anything. Leverage, Verity realised, threaten one and the other would crack. It was often the way criminals got what they wanted. She raised her chin, and did not wince when the sharpen fingers of the automaton behind her punctured her shoulder.
Never give up, Agent Thorne once told her. Assess the situation for a moment of advantage, and then move.
Let Driscoll think she held all the cards. Beyond the door no one knew what waited.
Chapter Nineteen
A Kindly Offer
It was a surprise to wake up—and a pleasant one too—even if he wasn’t where he expected to be. Henry stared at the ceiling for a moment trying to place himself somewhere. It was unlike any ceiling he’d ever seen before; trimmed gold around the edges with a scattering of partly clad nymphs and cherubs among the painted clouds.
He blinked to clear his head, but no… they were still there. Not a hallucination then.
“You’ll need some water,” the voice to his right, made him half-start up. It was almost on the edge of singing he thought, but it was no angel waiting for him at the pearly gates. When he turned his head, it was to find the woman who had given the speech last night, the one whose automaton had screamed so horribly.
No creations right now though. The woman in black, sat at his side, grey hair pinned back from a face that managed to be both stern and beautiful at the same time. She had to be ancient though, at least over fifty he guessed. Why he wasn’t being tortured or having his soul ripped out to be stuffed into an automaton at the moment, remained a mystery.
He wasn’t bound to the bed, so he slipped upright and sat on the edge of it to examine her right back. His mind was already reeling, and he did wonder where Eddie might be, but sometimes asking questions to early revealed the cards in your hand. This woman had the appearance of someone he needed to study before offering up anything. So he stayed silent to wait her out.
They stared at each other a bit longer, before she got to her feet, and poured him a glass of water from the pitcher on the dresser by the door. She turned her back to him, and automatically he felt for his knife strapped to his leg.
“We were kind enough to take you in, young man, but we’re not stupid enough to leave you armed.” Turning around she handed him the glass, and watched him drink from it.
He only took a small mouthful. Enough to wet his lips, but hopefully not enough to poison him if that was her plan.
She sat back down and watched him before adding, “You’re quite a clever young man, I can see that, and despite your plan to rob us, you have actually done us a favour.”
“What’s that then?”
“Thanks to you, we have located a man that’s been making trouble for us for many years.”
“So you killed him then?” Henry asked, managing to keep any hint of concern out of his voice.
Her mouth curved up into a smile that he was certain didn’t quite reach her eyes. “What a life you must have led, young man. How could you think such a dreadful thing?”
Had she forgotten that
he’d seen her automaton display?
“I’m sorry,” he muttered.
“No, the poor man is quite mad, so we’ll take good care of him. See if we can’t put him right.” She held out her hand. “My name is Mrs Glynis Driscoll.”
Henry frowned. "Just Mrs? Not Professor or Doctor?"
The smile she shot him was more genuine, as was the laugh that followed after. "I don't believe that tacking a title on your name makes you any more powerful. I studied in my youth, but I had far too much going on to waste time on getting my PhD."
Henry thought about all those scientists they'd met, the high and mighty, the ones with bristly moustaches who looked down their noses at everyone who had gone to Cambridge or Oxford. He'd often gone out of his way to bring them down a peg or two. He nodded. "I'm with ya on that one." He took her hand and shook it. "Henry Lloyd."
It was a surname the Seven used from time to time, mostly to give the impression they were blood relatives.
Mrs Driscoll however took it as something else. She raised an eyebrow. "Got Welsh people in your history have you. Lloyd means grey in Welsh... you don't look very grey..."
When she ducked her head and smiled at him, he suddenly didn't mind being decidedly brown. Most people would have made fun of his skin in this kind of situation, but Mrs Driscoll didn't focus on that.
Adjusting the hint of lace at her collar, she went to the door. "Since you tried so very hard to see what we are doing here, perhaps you'd like to go for a look now. If you're feeling up to it that is."
He couldn't pass the offer up, so he dropped down from the bed to stand on his own two feet. He wobbled a bit, and there was some definite tenderness in his back and shoulders, but he'd gotten off very lightly.
The Mystery of Emerald Flame (Verity Fitzroy and the Ministry Seven Book 2) Page 16