Flights and Chimes and Mysterious Times (18 page)

It was late, but that was all to the good. The strange creature had always let itself wind down at night when it lived in the palace. His guards came running at his call, left just as quickly with their instructions. That meddlesome doctor, with his unnatural experiments, was too useful to dispose of, but he could be taught a lesson. Oh, yes.

He did not have long to wait. The guards returned, Beth carried between them like a plank of wood. The ribbon loose from her hair, one shoe hanging precariously from its foot.

The window was still open, and Lorcan scarcely paused as he took her from the guards and carried her to the ledge.
It took only the smallest of pushes and she tumbled, turning over and over, dress billowed on the wind. She smashed in a storm of wires and gears on the courtyard below.

“Oh, dear,” said Lorcan. And he smiled.

G
RAY SNOW FELL
upon the Empire, turned it to a charcoal rendering. Rounded and edgeless, the seam of one building smudged into the next.

Days had come to matter little, in the way a single grain of sand matters little to the beach. Each one was a sparkling, crystal thing that melted against the days before it. As Jack watched the city turn dull and soft from his window, he could remember only a few shining months of laughter, music, long games of chess by the fire. His portrait had been finished, and it hung on the wall with the others. Every now and then, the Lady would announce that she was bored, and they would take another flight in an airship, but Jack was glad not to meet any more dragons.
The tiny one in his room was enough to be getting on with.

Beth had not visited him again, but perhaps she would after the holidays. Several times, Jack had tried to explore the secret passages alone, but without Beth’s help, he only got hopelessly lost. Not only had he not found a way out of the palace, but he hadn’t even managed to find the rooms to which Beth had taken him, her own and the beautiful golden one with its paintings and birds. Although, remembering what happened there, it was likely best that Jack not go poking around again.

It would be Christmas soon. Piles of presents under a magnificent tree and plum puddings and glass baubles to catch the light. That was the way Mrs. Pond always did it, and Jack knew he had only to ask. His new mother would give him everything he wished.

In fact, he would go and ask right now. Arabella had tucked him into bed an hour before, but the palace was his to roam as he liked, even after bedtime. The Lady, especially, wouldn’t be angry with him.

The marble was cold beneath his toes, tinged with some of the chill that frosted everything beyond his window. Jack padded down the stairs. Even the footmen and guards had gone to their beds; perhaps the Lady was in her own rooms, as well. But no, for there were voices coming from the throne room.

“I have already said no, Lorcan. Why must you continue to test me? You act as if I don’t know your secrets, or wish me to keep them for you.”

Jack crept closer to the closed door.

“I did it for you, Lady,” Lorcan said. He sounded distraught, as Jack had never heard him. “Everything I have done, all for you.”

The Lady laughed. “But I no longer need you. I have Jack.”

Silence.

“He is too young to captain the fleets. Lady, if we simply give the colonies what they ask for—”

“Then everyone shall be happy!” she said. The unmistakable sound of her clapping pierced the wood against Jack’s ear. “I like happy. I am far too pleased to go to war, Lorcan. I do not need those places across the seas. Let them rule themselves, and I will spend my time with my son.”

“Andrasta—”

“It would upset Jack,” she said, and he blinked at the sound of his name. “Think of how he saved the dragon. Such a good boy. Such a gentle boy. Such a
perfect
boy . . . and you wanted to kill the beast! He would not wish to go to war over a few handfuls of land. I have more than I could ever hope for right here, on this island. Let that be enough.”

Another silence. Jack thought of the hangings. How
it had made him ill to imagine the swinging, the kicking feet. The last one, which he’d seen with Beth. Mother was right; he didn’t want the Empire to be at war.

“Go, Lorcan. Do . . . whatever it is you do. Leave us to our fun. Inspect the fleets if you must, but you are not to command them into battle. We shall have peace.” Her words sparked, hinting at a fire.

“As you like, Lady.” Lorcan’s voice was strung tight as a crossbow. Quick as his feet would take him, Jack ran to the nearest room and slipped into the shadow of a rather fine wardrobe, holding his breath until he heard Lorcan’s boots fade far away. And waited another minute after that.

“Mother?” he said, stepping into the room.

She turned from the window, all bright smile and gleeful eyes. “Darling boy, what is it? Can you not sleep?”

He decided it was best to wait to ask about Christmas. “No,” he said, and let her pet his hair and tell him a faery story—about real faeries—until a yawn threatened to crack his jaw. Even so, it was some time after he returned to bed that sleep found him. So, there would be no war. He was glad of this. Being a soldier was supposed to be a fine calling, but from what he knew, war seemed a silly thing. Boys got in trouble for fighting at school; it made Headmaster Adams shout and sometimes he’d whip them so they couldn’t sit down for a week.

But this was not the most interesting thing to think about.
You act as if I don’t know your secrets.
Curiosity burned inside Jack. It couldn’t be that Lorcan was a magician; he’d made no secret of that, from the moment he’d rung the bell at the Fosters’ home in London.

It was something else. Something, possibly, to do with the golden room, and Jack made up his mind to discover it.

Perhaps Lorcan had taken the Lady’s advice and gone away, for he was nowhere to be found the next morning. Jack was glad of this, too. He set about doing all he could to put the Lady in the best possible mood, entertaining her by taking apart the Tune-Turner and putting it back together, asking for more cake, suggesting they amuse themselves with a favorite game of hiding in the palace, taking it in turns to find the other. Arabella and the other girls laughed, though they did not join in, and made sure hot tea was waiting when the fun ended.

Jack had discovered a great deal of the palace with this game, though not as much as Beth had known. There was an entire room filled with clocks, each wound to different times and ran at different speeds, so that it was never possible to tell if he’d been hiding for a minute or an hour. Another lined with mirrors, where if he stayed too long he nearly forgot which of him was the real one.

At the end of the afternoon, the Lady sat on her throne
and watched as Jack tinkered with the great machine that sucked the dust from the rugs, proud when it stopped making that irritating noise or coughing up puffs of soot.

“I wish to be alone with my mother,” he said. Arabella gave him a startled look, but saw herself and the other girls from the room. The Lady smiled brilliantly as Jack went to sit at her feet, a cake, which he slowly pulled apart, in his hand.

“What makes Lorcan so special?” Jack asked.

The Lady blinked in surprise. “Darling! Has he upset you?” She began to rise from her throne, but Jack stopped her.

“No, Mother,” he said, which was a lie, but she wouldn’t know, or punish him for it if she did. “But if I knew how he stayed young, then I could do the same, and be with you forever.”

“Oh.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “That isn’t possible.”

“Why, though? Why isn’t it possible?”

Her fingers whitened, gripping the arms of her throne. “Because there was only ever one, and he destroyed it. He told me, and by then it was too late to punish him.”

One
what
? Jack opened his mouth to ask, and the door opened, too.

Lorcan swept in, topper under his arm starred with snowflakes, hands coated in oil and ash. “Lady,” he said,
bowing deeply. “Might I borrow young Jack for a time? Your lordship,” he said to Jack, bowing again.
Keep your smile and hold your tongue, little Jack. Do not make me do anything unfortunate. We are merely going to talk.

“Of course,” she said, distracted, gazing out the window. “Go and be the best of friends, but do not keep him from me long, Lorcan, or I shall miss him too much to bear.”

“Indeed, Lady.”

Jack followed Lorcan from the room, half running to keep up with the man’s quick steps, reminded of when he had followed Lorcan to the clock. He hadn’t the faintest idea what Lorcan wanted with him, but that was all right, since he knew what he wanted from Lorcan.

To find out what, exactly, Lorcan had destroyed.

A palace guard stood at the front door, ready to hold it for them as they ventured out. Jack hadn’t left the palace on foot since his arrival. It was cold, and the wind made swirling ghosts of the snow. Jack shivered inside the thin clothes that were warm enough only for indoors.

Beyond gates crusted by icicles, a carriage waited in a puddle, blasting warmth several paces around. The driver jumped out to hold the door, just as Wilson did, but there were no horses here. Lorcan ushered Jack inside, waiting until he had settled on a wide bench before climbing in
himself. A thick wall separated the compartment from the driver.

“We did not have the best of starts, you and I,” Lorcan began. Slowly, the city began to slide past the windows.

Jack held his tongue.

“I, as anyone, must do what is necessary. This, you will learn. And what is necessary is the Lady’s happiness. Without her, we would all be—” He let his fingers float through the air. “I was her son before you. Were you aware of this?”

“Yes,” said Jack. They were crossing a bridge over the frozen river. Huge cracks ran through the ice, so that the whole thing looked like a spider’s web.

“And now, now I am nothing. Not her child, merely the commander of an army she will have stay home, warm in their beds, instead of fighting for the Empire as is their duty. You will grow old, and I will not, but tell me, young Jack, am I expected to wait? Am I expected to stand by and watch her let the Empire slip away, all for the sake of a boy she will tire of in a few short years?”

Jack wondered if he should be frightened, more certain than ever that Lorcan hated him. Had gotten him for the Lady, yes, because she asked—or ordered—but hated him nonetheless.

He drew himself up.
He
was the Lady’s son now, and
Lorcan was jealous, but Jack would not be bullied. “What will you do when she finds out I’m her last?” he asked. “I haven’t told her the doorway’s gone, but I could. Whenever I like.” A small victory, but an important one nonetheless. Jack leaned back against the seat, pleased with himself.

“Why does everyone want you?” Lorcan hissed. “The Lady loves you far too much. Your fool of a mother, your real mother, weeping like an infant when you disappeared. As if you are special.” His fingers curled and straightened again. A deep breath made his chest rise and fall.

Jack blinked. “S-she cried?” In his entire life, he couldn’t remember ever seeing her do so.

Lorcan ignored the question. “Very well. This is how it is to be. Tell me what you wish from me to keep the secret of the doorway.”

She cried. Is sad I am gone.
“It’s really destroyed?” Jack asked, and Lorcan nodded. “All right. Tell me why you won’t grow old and how you can speak in my head.”

Lorcan paled. “So, you have taken my place,” he said, almost to himself. “I may indeed have chosen too well. All right, little Jack, I shall tell you, but not today. I have learned much magic from the faeries, and I will teach you everything I know. On the eve of the new year, when the old dies and all is reborn. I will show you then. Precisely at midnight, when magic is strongest. Watch the clock and I
will come for you.” His words were softly spoken, and he was smiling, but there was something sharp in them as a needle hides in a shirtsleeve, ready to draw blood.

•  •  •

Christmas Eve came with a fresh blanket of snow, and enormous automatons roamed the streets to clear it, leaving dangerously slick cobbles behind.

The palace was everything Jack wanted it to be. A thousand times better than the bits of holly and glass strung up by Mrs. Pond. He ate himself sick on plum puddings and danced with the Lady, Arabella and the other girls spinning around them in pretty gowns.

Best of all was the pile of presents high as a mountain under a tree hung with golden lamps. “From Duke such-and-such,” Arabella would say, carrying in another armful that had traveled across the seas.

“Splendid,” cried the Lady. “Everyone is so happy. Are you happy, darling Jack?”

“Yes, Mother.” He smiled at her.

It was quite impossible to sleep. Cold though it was, Jack crept from his bed to open the window. A flock of faeries darted inside, wings flapping so rapidly they were simply a blur. He released his dragon from its cage and watched as the creatures chased one another around the lights, golden flames ringing off steely bodies. The
faeries screeched when the dragon’s tiny, snapping jaws came too close to their feet, and then they would gather in a swarm to descend on it, poking and laughing their metal laughs.