Dominion Rising: 23 Brand New Science Fiction and Fantasy Novels

by White, Gwynn

  We both nodded.

  “Very well. Let’s see if Alice can win you one,” he said. From inside his belt, he pulled out a dagger. He handed the blade to me. “Not five minutes after you saved your friend, I saw you peg a rat with a rock from three meters away. You have very quick hands, Alice, and Mister Northman tells me you also have a quick mind. Now, how can you do with apples? Do you think you can hit that one all the way at the top of the tree?

  “Yes, sir. Apples are much easier. They wriggle less than rats.”

  Mister Mock laughed. “Let’s see then.”

  I took a step forward and aimed. I knew that no matter what, my mark had to be perfect. My future, I felt, depended on it.

  I lobbed the dagger.

  There was a crunch, and a bright red apple fell from the tree, skewered by the dagger.

  “Well done,” Mister Mock said, clapping his hands together.

  He retrieved the apple and his dagger. He cut the apple in half and gave half to me and half to Bess.

  “Very good,” he said, wiping the blade clean. “You’ll need a bit of training up, and you and your sister will have to stay here—can’t have you living with the boys—but I think those big blue eyes and quick little fingers will serve me well. Do you understand me, Alice? Do you know what job I have for you?”

  I looked at him. Bess, who was chewing her apple happily, suddenly stopped and stared at Mister Mock.

  “I do, but my sister cannot do such work.”

  He smiled at Bess then reached out and gently patted her head. “Look there,” he said, pointing to an upstairs window.

  To my surprise, there was an elderly woman sitting at the window. She was rail thin and looked to be a hundred years old, but she smiled kindly and waved to us. “My mother is very old and needs a companion, Miss Bess. She’s quite ill. She hardly knows her own name and doesn’t recognize anyone from one day to the next. I need someone with a giving heart to look after her. Mister Northman said you can read?”

  She nodded. “Oh, yes. And I’m very patient.”

  Mister Mock nodded. “No doubt you are. My dear mother used to love to paint. Perhaps you can tempt her to it again. So, girls, what do you say? Do you suppose we could make a deal?”

  “Shall we try it?” Bess whispered to me.

  I looked back at Mister Mock. I was only ten, but I knew what life he was offering me. I’d work the streets, picking pockets and lifting goods. It wasn’t honest work—it wasn’t even safe work—but it would mean a comfortable life for Bess. My sister had nearly died the winter before in the cold bunkhouse. She was too gentle to wrangle machines and chase rats out of her food bowl. If we had stayed with Mister Northman, my sister might have died. Our parents were dead. I hardly even remembered them anymore. We had no one else. I didn’t want to be a pickpocket, but for Bess, I could do anything. We’d have a room in a fine house, my sister reading books to an old woman, sitting beside the fireplace all winter long. There wasn’t anything in the world I wouldn’t do to win that kind of life for my sister.

  “Bess will work in the house. Always. You promise?” I asked Mister Mock.

  He smiled. “Yes.”

  “Then we agree.”

  “Very good. Come along then. Let’s get you settled.”

  I looked up at Madame Mock. She smiled nicely once more. Bess waved happily to her. I hoped beyond all reason that things would work out and that the price would not be too great.

  I stared up at the window of the third-floor bedroom. Knocking on the front door felt entirely too obvious. I turned and headed down the nearby alley until I reached the back garden wall. Securing the blueprints on the strap across my back, I tossed the dress box over, then gripping the stones, I pulled myself up.

  I dropped into the garden of Jabberwocky’s—formerly my own—house. Everything was as it had been. Setting the box against the trunk of the old apple tree, I grabbed a branch and climbed up. The limbs stretched to the ledge. Moving carefully, I slipped off the branch and onto a ledge along the building. I eyed the decorative flagstones jutting from the side of the house. Getting a tight grip, I scaled the wall to the third-floor ledge. I shimmied to the window. I peered inside to find William still asleep. Balancing carefully, I pulled my knife then slipped it along the window frame, maneuvering open the lock. Moving carefully, I pushed the window open and slid inside.

  William sighed and rolled over but didn’t wake.

  A small fire burned in the fireplace of Mister Mock’s old bedroom. The room was warm and comfortable. William had changed the furnishings and linens, leaving the sense of the familiar and the new all at once. The room was sparse save his desk. Moving quietly, I sat down at the desk and began looking through the papers. He was corresponding with an airship pirate, moving opium from the Orient into London. He’d had some dealings with an apothecary in Cheapside leaving an itemized bill behind. The desk was littered with the expected items and a lot of literature on the Crystal Palace. The only piece of information that did catch my eye was a dispatch from a merchant in Virginia talking about inventory that was scheduled to be delivered via the airship Siren on April twentieth, two weeks earlier. Something about the way it was written, the vagueness of description, felt suspect. I looked through the rest of the papers but there was nothing of importance.

  Rising slowly, I moved silently to the bedside and looked down at William.

  How sweet he looked as he slept. His lashes were so long, but they’d always been like that. I remembered those lashes on the little boy version of him, the little boy who’d fallen instantly in love with me.

  I stared at his lips, remembering the feel of them against mine.

  Pain rocked my heart.

  Had he really left me for nothing more than this life? This house? This wealth? Was I so easily cast aside?

  But guilt nagged at me. In reality, who had done the casting? Wasn’t I just as much to blame?

  I sat down on the side of the bed, not bothering to be gentle, then stroked the lock of hair that fell just over his ear back into place.

  “Your security is terrible. I could have murdered you five times by now,” I said gently.

  He startled awake, gasping as he opened his eyes.

  “Alice?” he whispered. Without thinking, he reached out and took my hand. The sweetness of it, the look of warmth in his eyes, caught me off guard. “Alice.”

  It wasn’t the reaction I’d expected. I’d expected he’d brandish the dagger under his pillow to prove me wrong, or make some smart comment, or get up and move away angrily. Instead, the look on his face was much different.

  “I…I let myself in. Through the window,” I said.

  He didn’t even crack a smile. “I dreamt, you know, of waking up to your face in this house, in this room. I dreamt of waking up to your touch. Alice,” he said. He lifted his hand and touched my cheek, his fingers trailing gently down to touch my lips.

  “Yes, well, we’re at an impasse on that, aren’t we,” I said, rising. I had to get away from him or I was most certainly going to kiss him.

  “Please, let’s talk about it,” William said, sitting up.

  “What’s there to talk about?”

  “It’s not too late for you to change your mind. You wouldn’t have to come back into the life. You and Bess can move back here. This is your home. I hate that you’re living in that hovel above the dress shop. I hate that Bess is too poor to marry that hatter. It’s not too late, Alice. We can just do it over again.”

  I went to the fireplace. Was he right? Could I come back? Could we do it over again? How many times had I regretted my decision? How many times had I felt the pang in my heart that I, not William, was at fault?

  William rose and joined me, wrapping his arm around my waist, pulling me close. “Alice. Please. You know I never stopped loving you. And you never stopped loving me. Come home to me.”

  “Why are you doing this job for the Queen of Hearts?”

  “What?”

 
“The job. The job that has a very high probability of getting one or both of us shot or put in the stocks. Why? Why did you take the deal? What went wrong between you and her?”

  “I…it’s complicated.”

  “I’m reasonably intelligent. Try me.”

  “Alice,” he said, but he said no more. I realized that no answer was coming.

  I pulled away. “You see. This is why. This is why I won’t come back. Nothing but darkness surrounds this life.” I turned and looked at him. “Get dressed,” I said then turned and headed toward the door.

  “Where are you…are you leav—”

  “Of course not. Dark deals or no, I’m not going to leave you to hang for whatever it is you’ve done. I’m going downstairs to see if Maggie will cook me some breakfast,” I said then slammed the door behind me.

  Too close.

  Too close that time.

  Too close to saying yes.

  10

  Inside a Raindrop

  If you say it again, I’ll stab you,” I said as I struggled to adjust the formal gown. The bulging bustle of fabric on my backside made my lower back itch, and my corset was too tight. A proper lady’s gown indeed, but I wondered how anyone who dressed in proper fashion got anything done. I touched the brim of my tiny top hat. It, along with my parasol, were the only pieces of the outfit I actually liked. Of course, the parasol had a feature that allowed me to slip the White Queen into the shaft to serve as a handle. Leave it to the Countess to think of that.

  “All I said was that you look lovely. I hardly think that’s a stabbing offense.”

  “Shows what you know,” I replied as I eyed him sidelong. He had changed into a fine suit and wore a black top hat. I both hated and loved being there with him. My conflicting emotions made me cranky.

  “Tickets,” said a man standing just outside the door of the Crystal Palace.

  “Good morning,” William said politely and handed the man our tickets.

  The man stamped the date on the tickets then handed them back. Nodding, he motioned for us to enter.

  Taking me gently by the arm, as a gentleman ought to do, William escorted me inside.

  While the Crystal Palace’s ornate structure, made of glass and iron, towering several stories high was a sight to behold from the outside, nothing quite prepared me for the marvels inside.

  As we entered, a cacophony of sounds reached our ears. The sweet melodies coming from a stand of self-playing harps, the screech of monkeys, the hum of machines, and the sounds of hundreds of voices rolled to our ears all at once.

  The structure had been built around the tall ash trees that had stood in the park. They still stood standing tall in the middle of the structure. Fountains lined the center promenade. The crowd gasped and stepped back as a group from Africa passed on their way toward their display, lions on leashes walking in front of them. Not far behind them, a man wearing a straw hat jogged past pulling a rickshaw, two laughing—and elegantly dressed—ladies inside.

  I gasped as a man flew overhead on wings made of lightweight material. To my great surprise, he flapped his wings, the metal of the clockwork bones and joints revealed when the sun overhead struck him just right.

  William chuckled. “Shall we take it all in?”

  Barely able to breathe, I nodded.

  “Now, there is my Alice,” he said softly. “Her curious eyes open wide.”

  I smiled. “It’s a wonderland.”

  In that moment, I could hardly feel angry at him. He had tricked me to bring me back into his circle and was being completely obtuse on why he was in this predicament in the first place, but I loved being there with him.

  “Ladies and gentleman, ladies and gentleman, come see these wonderful clockwork delights,” a gentleman called from the German exhibit. He was standing in front of a curtain.

  William and I stopped to look.

  “How many of you have ever loved a dear pet and lost one? A dog, madame? Perhaps a scrappy little alley cat, sir? What if you could own a pet that never died? What if you could own a pet that would always be there for you, save time when it came for a patch or two? Behold,” the man called, and pulled the curtain away, revealing an odd little zoo. Inside a display of cases were all manner of creatures, and all of them made of metal.

  The crowd gasped.

  “The clockwork menagerie,” the man said. “Fine German craftsmanship. Each creature made to order by our tinkers,” he said then pulled a clockwork cat—a fine looking machine made of striped metal to make the animal appear as if he were a tabby cat—from the display. He set the cat on a show platform.

  “The cat has been designed with optics to navigate your home and behave just like a living creature. Simply press this lever to activate your feline,” the man said, pressing the lever. The cat’s eyes opened wide. They were the color of aquamarine gems. It stood and twitched its mechanical tail, then sat again once again and began licking a metal paw with an equally metal tongue.

  “Does it meow?” a child called, her mother and father looking on.

  “Only if you like,” the man said. “Just wind the small crank here, and your kitten will cry for his…oil!”

  Everyone laughed.

  The man worked the crank and a moment later, the clockwork cat let out a loud meow. He picked the creature up, holding it just like a cat, and walked in front of the crowd so everyone could see and touch it.

  “It even purrs. Madame, would you be so kind as to give him a scratch behind the ears?” he said to me.

  I looked from the cat to William then back to the cat again.

  Reaching out, I stroked my hand across the metal ear of the cat. A purring sound erupted from the little creature and then, a moment later, the clockwork feline smiled, revealing a row of wide, square teeth.

  I laughed. “He’s smiling like he just had a bowl of Cheshire cream.”

  The crowd gathered around me chuckled.

  We took in the presentation then turned back to the main thoroughfare.

  “Look,” William said, pointing to the massive stone sphinxes that stood at the entrance of the Egyptian exhibit. We headed inside to discover all manner of fine artifacts on display: papyrus scrolls, an ornate sarcophagus, and lapis lazuli jewels.

  In my childhood dreams, I’d imagined myself a treasure hunter. I envisioned myself exploring the pyramids in Egypt, a crumbling map in hand. I envisioned myself outsmarting ancient curses on chests of pirate treasure or unlocking the secrets of the lost Atlantis. But such adventures could only be had in my imagination. In reality, Bess and I had been left to the workhouse after our parents had died of a wasting disease. Jabberwocky had saved us from certain poverty, but at what cost?

  As I walked beside William, taking in the delights, I thought about my path. William was right. It had been my choice to leave. I didn’t want the life. I didn’t want to do the job anymore. But he too had chosen. He’d picked the life over me. Yet I could go back. It wasn’t too late.

  I shook my head. I didn’t dare think about it anymore. After all, this was a job, not a date. I scanned the area around us. There were four guards at the main entrance, two at each of the six side entrances, and one of Victoria’s men in each display in addition to whatever security the international groups had brought with them. I looked the guards over in the Egyptian exhibit. They eyed the visitors, looking for pickpockets. The admission price, however, kept the common street ruffians away. Yet their eyes were keen. No one would get past them alive.

  We left the Egyptian exhibit and carried on with our tour. The Great Exhibition took up two floors with a third, half floor, above. Several windows were cranked open overhead to let the heat out. The tops of the trees inside the building nearly reached the windows.

  “There is a line to see the diamond, but it disperses at lunch time. We’ll go then,” William whispered in my ear.

  “So, does that mean you won’t be buying me lunch? I am, after all, putting my life on the line for you. Doesn’t that earn
me at least a ploughman’s platter?”

  William laughed. “Afterward. I promise.”

  Next, we took in the Chinese display, marveling at the lanterns, paintings, and myriad of painted vases. As we passed, I picked up all the pamphlets they had available showing the artwork.

  “For Bess?” William asked.

  “Yes. Several of her customers have remarked on the vases. She wanted to try her hand at them.”

  “Replicas will catch her a fortune. She should come see them herself.”

  “I’m sure she can render the images from these well enough,” I said, looking down at the papers. In truth, the cost of entrance into the exhibit was well beyond what we could afford. On top of that, Bess could not walk to the exhibition. She’d need a carriage, and unless we found someone with one to spare on her behalf, there was no way for her to get there without risking her health.

  William frowned, guessing at what I had left unspoken. In his expression, I saw his frustration. “You’re so stubborn, Alice,” he scolded me then under his breath. “Wouldn’t life with me, back at home at the manor, with some means at your disposal, be a better life for you both?”

  “Here I am, finely dressed and seeing wonders I could never afford on my own, but I’m about to commit a crime against the crown. The trade-off hardly seems worth it.”

  “Alice—”

  “If something happens to me, you will be responsible for taking care of Bess. You remember that.”

  “I promise I will protect you, nothing will—”

  From somewhere in the building, a massive clock chimed, drowning out his words. I sighed with relief. Whatever it was he was planning to say, I didn’t want to hear it.

  I glanced up at a nearby clock. It was the lunch hour.

  “Shall we?” I said, looking in the direction of the British display.

  William nodded and said nothing more.

  We joined the main thoroughfare once more. Each country had beautiful displays tucked into alcoves along each side with other interesting displays along the center of the walkway. There was a colorful display of glassworks in the Austrian exhibit, Turkish textiles and rugs, and models of ships and silks from India. We bypassed the American display where an airship had been docked at the center of the exhibit. A presentation was underway showcasing the use of helium. As well, the display of Colt revolvers was getting a lot of attention. Eventually, we reached the queue for the Koh-i-Noor. The diamond, just as the Countess’s schematics had revealed, was sitting in what looked more or less like a bird cage on a pedestal. I eyed the crowd. There were less than twenty people in line in front of us. Two guards kept watch on the diamond. The gem was sitting on a red pillow.