Magical Mechanications

by Pip Ballantine

  I actually learned a lot in those first days, probably more than I would have had I had my voice. Listening bought me a lot of information—so much that if I had been a spy I would have discovered much from the stream of conversation Iria sent my way. It made a welcome distraction from the constant grind of pain that my grandmother’s device provided. Once I had largely forgotten the agony of the potion, it remained ever present.

  However, it was all made worth it when Prince Roan came on the third day. He burst into Iria’s parlour without being announced and stood in the square of late afternoon sun like a jewelled fish of the reef. His eyes were as I remembered them, but he seemed even more desirable now in his own element.

  The music of my legs grew louder when I saw him, but he took no notice of me. I might as well have been part of the furniture. “I found her,” he proclaimed loudly and my heart leapt. Maybe he had noticed me!

  Being wrong had never stung so badly. He was not looking at me.

  “Roan, you’re so rude!” Iria snapped, her hand dropping protectively down over mine. She must have thought the sudden tears in my eyes were due to his rudeness, when in fact they were due to the fact he didn’t recognize me immediately. I thought I had made an impression when I saved him.

  It got worse. “I found the girl who rescued me.” I stared at him in horror, unable to move, as he told his sister excitedly how he had found the one girl that had fished him from Mother Ocean. Prince Roan went on at great length about her beauty, her kindness, and her strength. However, I knew one thing, he was a fool and she was a liar.

  Apparently he had found one of the girls who had come down from the temple, one that had rolled him over and dragged him out after I had returned to Mother Ocean. It was she that was taking advantage of my rescue efforts. If I had not caught him and dragged him Above he would be dead.

  I should have been angry perhaps, but I felt as carved out as an empty whelk shell. Finally, when he was done, he turned to Iria. “And who is this, sister?”

  The princess gestured to me. “Some poor simple child, a reject of one of those mad tinkers, father thinks. She has no voice at all, but her legs are quite remarkable.”

  With a surge of energy I got to my brass feet. My mouth opened and I struggled to squeeze out words; the words that would tell him he’d been mistaken, it had been me there. I wanted to yell about how his head had rested on my shoulder, and how I had seen him standing on the deck of the ship before the attack. However, my throat choked up, burning with effort, but producing nothing.

  Instead, it was my legs that spoke. The chiming rattle of the music box filled the room, and on its wings I began to dance. While Iria and Roan stood there, with wide eyes, I twirled and danced in the princess’ parlor. I was desperate to communicate in whatever way I could.

  It felt strange after dancing in my father’s kingdom with my tail, but it pushed back the pain to the edges of my mind. After a while it began to feel very good. I hoped my dance would tell the prince it was me. I wished it contained my longing and hopes that he could understand as easily as words.

  However after a few minutes, when the music and the dance faded, Roan looked bemused rather than informed. “It is a lovely dance,” he said, with a slight frown. He shrugged at his sister. “Your charge has quite the talent, sister. The gods have obviously seen fit to give her talent to make up for her deficiencies.”

  I thought the black potion had been painful, but the prince’s blindness cut even deeper.

  However, I did not give up. I couldn’t. For Prince Roan was what I had given up Mother Ocean, my father, and all of my sisters for.

  I became the prince’s shadow. I trailed around behind him, and tried my best to reach him in the only way I could. At first he was kind, smiling when I began my little dances in every corner of the palace. I could not speak, and I could not write their language either—so the dancing was all I had.

  However, after a week, he did not stop to watch. I danced desperately, even as I heard that this girl he had mistaken for me was coming to the palace. Roan’s delight, turned to amusement, then boredom, and finally anger. Now he stalked angrily past me as I began to spin, and I realized I had gone too far. It was done. By trying to tell him so often, I had made myself abhorrent to the prince, and now even if the truth came out he wouldn’t look at me with love.

  However, I had one last thing to say.

  The morning that the girl was to arrive, I waited outside his bedroom, and when he appeared, launched into a spinning, melancholy dance. I swept my arms and legs in long arcs, mimicking the broadness of Mother Ocean, and with smaller appealing gestures I tried to show him that I was sorry. I just wanted to be back in that moment where I had held him on the shore. I was no longer Triton’s martial daughter. Somewhere along the way I had lost that.

  He glared at me, and then turned away with a growl. “Idiot girl, Iria shouldn’t just let you run around loose.” And then he walked away.

  Roan didn’t see me. I watched, the syrienne’s devices sending jolts of pain up my spine, as he went down the steps to meet the thin girl who only had dark hair in common with me. I had come here with such hope for something new, and all I had found was pain and loneliness.

  I ran. I couldn’t bear to see him welcome her, love her when he should have loved me. My father had been right after all; humans were cruel. Blindly, I made my way to the beach, my legs playing a sad tune that seemed to tell me nothing was worth this agony. The physical pain meant little.

  I stood at the edge of Mother Ocean, and looked out over it, tears burning down my cheeks, and broken screams in my chest. The Sea Witch had said I couldn’t return, and yet I wanted to. Death might await me in the sea, but I would be free of the pain, and I would get to see my family for a brief moment.

  “Lorelei,” a voice called, and it had been so long since anyone had spoken my name for a moment I wondered if I had imagined it.

  I was even more surprised when I saw the dark shape of my syrienne grandmother lying in the surf. Where as in the deep valley she had been rather terrifying, at the very edge of the Above she seemed smaller and vulnerable.

  With the legs she had made sending shots of agony up my spine, I went to her, and slid down to sit next to her on the sand. I looked jealously at her tail shifting back and forth in the waves.

  “This isn’t how you imagined it, is it?” the Sea Witch said. When I shook my head, she nodded slowly. “Your sisters saw you walking up on the cliff face, and they could tell you were unhappy. It was Tethys who sought me out.”

  Fresh tears poured from my eyes, knowing that my sisters had risked much to find me, and loved me enough to do so. Seeking out our grandmother was something I never would have imagined from my stern older sister.

  The Sea Witch touched my arm, drawing my attention. “I lied to you, granddaughter. I did not make the legs to make soldiers. I made the legs long ago for your mother…but too late. She had already fled my house for your father by the time they were ready.”

  In the waning light of evening, her golden eyes were soft. “I think you have learned what she learned. Not all perceived sanctuaries are what we think they are, but that doesn’t mean we have to give up on life. We can always move on.”

  They were sweet words, but they couldn’t do anything about the facts. I gestured to my tail, then out to the Mother Ocean that would never be mine again, and finally up to the Palace where I had no place either.

  The Sea Witch smiled, just a little. “There are always more possibilities than you can think of in the midst of despair, granddaughter—more than you can imagine.”

  She slid back under the water, so that I was terrified that she had gone for good, but when she returned, clutched in her hand was another long see-through pod.

  “I was not quick enough to let your mother seek out the world she wanted. She wanted to see the world beyond Mother Ocean, and I would not give it to her. Now you have that chance. You will become the most amazing creature, darling gr
anddaughter, a creature that has lived in the sea, on the land, and finally in the air itself.”

  She ripped open the package and a pair of beautiful brass and silk wings unfurled themselves before me. I gasped, and the legs began to play a different tune; it was light and hopeful. After a moment of contemplation, I glanced at my syrienne grandmother, and mimed drinking a potion. I did not care to have that experience again.

  She laughed, just a little. “No potion this time, granddaughter. You have already sacrificed your voice and your tail. These are yours without pain.”

  Suddenly Roan seemed petty, and my hopes those of a child learning to walk. Instead of a life as a cossetted princess of the ocean or the land, I would become something else entirely.

  I slipped the wings on over my shoulder and spread them wide. Just like the legs, these wings knew what to do. What could I do with them and the sound of the music in my legs? Would I see distant lands and become a creature of myth?

  “Go, find out,” the Sea Witch said, a faint gleam in her golden eyes.

  As I rose into the air, music surrounding me, I looked out over Mother Ocean. In the waves I could see the heads of my sisters bobbing in time to the waves. I raised my hand to them and smiled.

  I’ll come back, the music sang, but first I must see what is out there.

  Then the wings began to beat to my desires, and I set my sights on the distant horizon. Now I was a creature of the air. I left the palace and the prince far below me, and did not think of it again.

  Mechanical Wings

  by Pip Ballantine

  Eleanor stood in the shadow of her father, and watched him slip the golden ring on the finger of the wickedest person in any of the floating cities. Her protestations, her scream of outrage lay still on her tongue like a painful stone. One that she would have gladly spat out into the world—but dared not.

  Faine Escrew was tall, beautiful and the richest woman in all of the sky. She also had a heart as dark as a moonless, starless night, and not an ounce of pity for any living creature in her blood. As she turned and looked over her shoulder at Eleanor and her brothers standing on the steps of the palace below her, a smile lingered on her lips. It was one that some might have said was beautiful, but the princess knew was more of a smirk than anything else.

  King Ivan had long ago passed into Faine’s iron grip—anything that Eleanor said now would be wasted on him. However her brothers were not so circumspect. Iain, the youngest of the King’s sons, and of the eleven the closest to his sister in age but furthest in temperament, could not keep his words to himself.

  “Snake,” he whispered under his breath, his blue eyes narrowed in hatred. Too late Eleanor shot him a look to silence him. A slight shift in Faine’s back told that she had heard Iain’s comment.

  All unaware the aristocracy and common folk of the City of Swans, watched their monarch marry his second wife. Perhaps they hoped he would not have quite so many children with this one, but more likely no thoughts at all occupied their minds. Madame Escrew had that effect on people. The dirigible city relied on her trade for its mere existence.

  Every ship in this city, tethered one to another, filled the envelopes of their airships with gas mined from her mountain estate. Those ships that could not afford the precious æther from the Escrew Conglomerate, would eventually be cut loose from the city as a whole, and be allowed to drift downwards into the boiling earth beneath the clouds.

  It was a fair enough reason not to stand against her, but it didn’t make it any easier for Princess Eleanor.

  Furthest down the stairs stood Eric and Merion, the eldest of her brothers. They were whispering to one another, not bothering to even try to be covert. She had eleven brothers, and all of them were far too rash.

  Finally the ceremony was over, and the priest proclaimed them husband and wife. As the crowd cheered—somewhat weakly Eleanor thought—the couple retired into the bowels of the cathedral ship to begin the arcane right of crowning Madame Escrew queen.

  Eleanor released an angry sigh, spun around, and walked down the steps towards the knot of princes waiting for her.

  Eleven brothers. The other Cities, particularly Eagle and Owl, were jealous of the surplus of sons the King of Swan City possessed. Eleanor could tell them it was not everything that they imagined, especially for a lone princess. Much as she loved her brothers, sometimes it felt like she was floating in a sky full of men. At times like this in fact.

  Instead of complaining, she led the way back to the palace with not a comment to her brothers except for a curt look. They fell into step around her, all varying shades of blond and brown hair. Just like that her feelings towards her brothers changed. Instead of swallowing her this phalanx of tall men were providing comfort. Now, they were her own personal army.

  She knew full well, that was what Madame Escrew feared.

  On reaching the palace, Eleanor ignored the throne room, drawing them all up to their study. It was here they learned of the history of the City of Swans, mathematics, geography, and navigation. Here and now, Eleanor would be the teacher, her brothers dutiful students.

  Eric, the eldest at nearly thirty sat himself on the window, and peered into the swirling clouds below. The palace ship was in the center of the city, but gaps between the ships meant that the reality of their existence could still be seen. “That woman—” he began, but his sister held up her hand.

  Eleanor pinned up the long curls of dark hair into a far more utilitarian bun than the court fashion she’d worn to the wedding. Then, she darted to her desk and withdrew the dragonflies she had spent the last week working on. This had been done out of the sight of Madame Escrew naturally. While the brothers watched, she carefully wound up the five gleaming machines with the two tiny keys in their abdomens before releasing them. With a flicker of bright green, they leapt into the air and began to circle the room in a cloud.

  They darted about from ceiling to floor. They had only been airborne for mere moments when one quickly grabbed something hidden on top of the bookshelf. The brothers all winced as a high-pitched whine echoed through the library, which was about as enjoyable as fingernails scratched down a blackboard.

  The little gleaming predator pulled loose a long whip like creature not much longer than it was. As the brothers watched wide-eyed, the dragonfly ripped it apart with its gleaming articulated legs. Eleanor smiled, but she waited until her creations had circled the rest of the library.

  “We should be safe to speak freely now,” she said, arranging her ridiculous dress as she sat on a stool.

  “Eleanor,” Alan whispered, his eyes following the continuing path of the machines as they buzzed around the room, “they are incredible. I didn’t know you could build such marvelous things.”

  Their sister shrugged. “Neither did I truth be known, brother. Something about that woman’s presence in the palace just brings out the inventiveness in me. I remember seeing a plan of them in one of those books that old tinker showed us last summer.”

  “Finally that memory of yours is some use,” Roger, who had been her childhood competitor, flicked a balled up piece of paper on the desk at her.

  “Madame Escrew might take you as her apprentice,” Maximilian laughed.

  Eleanor felt something like a hard sob form in her belly. Once they had been genuinely merrier. This very room had rung with laughter and learning.

  “I blame myself,” she whispered, even as she held out her hand for one of the dragonflies to return to her. “After Mother’s death I should have taken better care of Father. I should have noticed he was so lonely. Madame Escrew would never have—”

  “It’s not your fault, Ellie.” Alan grasped her hand. “We were all distraught when it happened. None of us ever thought…”

  “No, we did not!” She snapped, yanking her arm free and turning away before they could see her tears. “That is what she counted on. She saw an opportunity and she took it. Now we must deal with the consequences.” Out the window, their flag of a ra
mpant swan fluttered in the always-constant breeze, seeming to challenge her.

  “What can we do?” Alan went relentlessly on. “Father is utterly bewitched by her.”

  “We must find a way,” she said with determination. “Not just for ourselves, but for the city itself. We must be like her, and find an opportunity.”

  The siblings looked on her, the silence as thick as the tension of the day. One by one, they retired to their rooms, choosing to miss on the revels of the evening and avoid the new queen.

  The next morning, Eleanor forwent any assistance by her maid and dressed herself. The princess went down to breakfast on the very edge of being late. The less time she had to spend in her new stepmother’s presence the better. Apparently her brothers had either been down early, or had abandoned any thought of food whatsoever because she was alone with her father and his queen.

  The three of them sat at the long table, while being served by masked servants. They served grilled flying fish, starling eggs, and expensive grilled bacon to the silent royals.

  It was the new Queen that broke the stillness. Her voice like silk. “You are looking very pale, Eleanor. Are you well?”

  “Not at all, thank you,” the princess replied, concentrating on the food before her. She stabbed an egg with a certain misplaced anger.

  “It is just this is the season for insects, and I would hate to think you have been bitten by something…nasty.” Madame’s hard brown eyes locked with Eleanor’s just as determined blue ones. The princess did not need to be told; the new queen had noticed her listening device in the library had been removed.

  “What could be nasty in our palace?” Eleanor said mildly. “All is so wonderful here. If any such vermin were to infest our hallowed halls, Your Majesty, I would take action. Have no fear.”

  Eleanor’s eyes flicked over to King Ivan, who remained oblivious to their verbal sparring. He was nothing like the man he had been before his real Queen’s death.