The Clockill and the Thief

by Gareth Ward

  Eldritch, now dressed in a tattered boilersuit, stood from the cell’s bunk. “I’ve always found that confined spaces make me want to reflect quietly on my lot in the world. Maybe if you could see your way clear to letting me out, I’d be a tad more talkative.”

  “The Fixer had very strong views on people who welched on deals. He even had a little saying.” Sin pulled a steampistol from his belt and rested it on the bars. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, ain’t going to happen because you’ll have died horribly in excruciating pain.”

  “Major C wants me alive,” argued Eldritch.

  Bone-tired, Sin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, I don’t care.”

  “Hawk won’t be happy if you kill me. It will be mutiny or treason or whatever the aeronautical equivalent is.”

  “Well, here’s the interesting thing. Your one word, ‘Summersong’, got me thinking, ’cos I’d seen that before somewhere.” Sin tapped the steampistol against the bars and Eldritch backed away.

  “Then it came to me. There was a picture of the SS Summersong on Captain Hawk’s desk. A bit of asking about and I discover that her fiancé was captain of the airship when it disappeared without a trace. Except it didn’t disappear without a trace, because I saw some of its crates on the Deadnaught. Mystery solved. I reckon Hawk’s going to be proper unhappy to know her betrothed was turned into a Clockill. She’s going to be even more unhappy when I tell her you were working with Yan Shi.”

  Eldritch slumped back onto the bed, defeated. “What do you want to know?”

  “Let’s start with who killed my mother.”

  “I don’t actually know who killed your mother –”

  “I knew it.” Sin cocked the steampistol. “More lies. I was a fool to trust you.”

  “Hear me out.” Eldritch held his hands defensively in front of him. “I don’t know the person who killed your mother. I do know it was the King’s Knights who sanctioned it.”

  “You’re a King’s Knight.” Sin sighted down the weapon’s barrel.

  “I wasn’t then. I was still in the army. I didn’t agree to them trying to kill Nimrod and I wouldn’t have approved of targeting a mother and her child.”

  For once, there was a visceral honesty to Eldritch’s words. Maybe there was a line even the traitor wouldn’t cross. However, Sin wasn’t willing to let go of his anger quite yet. “You were happy to hold a blade to Zonda’s throat.”

  Eldritch shrugged dismissively. “You all made yourselves targets when you joined COG. You can’t merrily choose to run onto the battlefield and then complain when someone shoots at you. Life doesn’t work like that. Call yourselves what you want, but you’re soldiers now. Soldiers follow orders. I follow orders. That doesn’t mean I always agree with them.”

  Sin lowered the weapon. His shoulders slumped, and he stared down at the floor. Much as he wanted to blame Eldritch, perhaps it wasn’t the traitor’s fault. Sin understood what it meant to do the bidding of dubious men like the Fixer, so he could hardly hold Eldritch to account for the attack on his mother. Even so, he wanted answers. “Why would they murder her – my mother? What had she done?”

  “She’d created you.”

  Sin’s head snapped up. He clutched the iron cell bars with his free hand. Nimrod and his mother had been part of some grand experiment that had resulted in his birth, that much he knew; how could he be the cause of her death?

  Eldritch paced around the cell. “The Eugenesis Project wasn’t just any experiment; it was about creating a better soldier. When your mother realised you were less her child and more a piece of military hardware, she tried to run.”

  “And they killed her for that?”

  “She would have escaped to the continent with a Ransilvainian Baroness, taking the secret of how she created you with her. They couldn’t afford for that knowledge to fall into enemy hands.”

  Sin breathed in deeply, fighting his weariness. “Can you find out who gave the order?”

  “I could. But I won’t.”

  Again, Sin levelled the weapon. This time Eldritch didn’t move. “Shoot me if you want. It’ll be cleaner than the punishment from the King’s Knights for betraying them. The penalty for treason is death. Horrible, agonising death.”

  “They won’t know,” Sin promised. “I can keep a secret.”

  “You think Mr Clark and I are the only King’s Knights in COG? They’ll know, and they’ll kill me. They’ll kill you, too, if you go up against them.”

  Sin laughed hollowly. “Red Blades wanted to kill me. You wanted to kill me. Mr Clark wanted to kill me. Yet I’m still here. I’ll take my chances.”

  Eldritch shook his head. “COG hasn’t been able to stop the King’s Knights, despite all their efforts.”

  Sin locked the pistol’s safety catch. “Until now, COG didn’t have me.”

  A large log fire warmed Major C’s study, keeping the sharp November chill at bay. The pleasant heat made Sin drowsy and he had to dig a thumbnail into his hand to keep focused. The debrief with Captain Hawk and the Major had already lasted over an hour, the same questions asked again and again in slightly different ways, as if they were trying to catch him in a lie.

  Outside, through the window, Sin watched the other candidates help moor the Sky Palace in preparation for the Heroes Ball. He wished he could be with his friends, enjoying the excitement rather than enduring the relentless interrogation. He dragged his gaze from the window and concentrated on the Major.

  “You don’t think COG Jenkins was working with the King’s Knights or Yan Shi?” asked the Major, the sceptical tone in his voice suggesting that was his suspicion.

  Sin shook his head. “Definitely not. He helped me destroy the Deadnaught.” It wasn’t a lie as such, just not telling the whole truth. He had deliberately not mentioned that Jasper had been turned into a Clockill to spare Velvet’s feelings. Even though the debrief was supposed to be confidential, Velvet’s mother was on the COG Committee and he was certain that details of the debrief would filter back to her.

  Captain Hawk leaned closer. “Eldritch was working alone? There are no more traitors in COG?”

  The predatory look in Hawk’s eyes drilled into Sin, as if she could see into his mind. She couldn’t. Years on the street had taught Sin the art of deceit and he answered with a righteous confidence. “Apart from Mr Clark, Eldritch was working alone.” The truth followed by a lie, just as the Fixer had taught him.

  During their chat in the brig on the Aether-Mare, Eldritch had let slip there were more traitors inside of COG, and although Sin wanted to believe that the Major and Hawk were loyal, he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t risk tipping his hand.

  “One last question, COG Sin,” said the Major, his tone deepening. “Is there anything you could have done differently to save COG Jenkins’ life?”

  All those times in training at COG, he could have tried to help Jasper rather then provoke him. Jasper was already doomed, turned into Clockill by the time Sin had boarded the Deadnaught, that was the easy answer, the one Sin wanted to tell himself. However, in his heart he knew there was plenty he could have done differently.

  “No. Nothing,” said Sin. The biggest lie of all.

  The Heroes Ball was in full swing. The Sky Palace’s function room took up the full width of the building, gently curving around the massive central balloon. Swathes of black and silver fabric hung from the teak-panelled walls, framing lumograph projections of COG’s fallen heroes. At the very end of the room, Jasper’s giant face gazed down.

  Every COG member not on a mission was in attendance and the dance floor heaved with the wild, the bad and the dangerous to know. The orchestra broke into a polka-trot and a cheer went up from the revellers. Major C took the hand of the recently returned Baroness Lilith Von Darque and they clanked across the dance floor with an almost regal confidence. His kilt flapping in a frenzy, Staff MacKigh spun Sergeant Stoneheart’s wheelchair in chaotic circles.

  Around the room a riot of
elaborate, stylish and often impractical costumes coloured the celebrations. Beautiful ball gowns, heavy-duty corsets, frilled shirts and waistcoats with leather and litanium armour plates were in vogue.

  Sin stood by the exit to the terraces, the gilt doors pushed open to allow the cold night air to circulate. What Eldritch had told him about his mother had put a cloud over his head. A cloud that had grown even darker since Jasper’s funeral two days ago. He’d been in competition with Jasper to take Zonda to the ball, yet he’d give anything now to see them both twirling across the dance floor, smiles on their faces.

  Jasper hadn’t wanted to be at COG from Day One. Hell, he’d not wanted to be there since before Day One, but his father’s dying wish had placed an emotional noose around his neck. The one thing that had probably made it bearable was his friendship with Zonda, and he’d been terrified that Sin was going to steal that away from him.

  Death was a constant companion when Sin had been living on the streets. You didn’t get to grow old living in a gang. Looking at the meagre smattering of operatives in their thirties on the dance floor, it seemed you didn’t get to grow old in COG either. Jasper certainly hadn’t, and Sin couldn’t shake the feeling that he was to blame. He hadn’t given Jasper the chance to be a hero; his actions had ultimately forced Jasper into it. The death weighed on Sin’s conscience, and if he were to go against the King’s Knights, he would put more of his friends at risk. Was it worth it? And would he be doing it to help COG prevent a war or was his real motive to avenge his mother?

  “Penny for your thoughts,” said Zonda. She’d returned from the buffet, her plate piled high with eclairs.

  Since returning to the palace, the loss of Jasper had hit home and Sin knew she was trying to take her mind off the grief. He wished he could help. Nothing he said seemed to ease her pain. Maybe it was something only time would heal.

  “I was thinking about my mother,” said Sin. “She was committed to her science, and she wanted to understand more about the world . . .”

  “Only?” prompted Zonda, nibbling at an eclair.

  “Only if she’d understood more about people, she would have known she was dancing with the devil.”

  The music on the dance floor stopped. Velvet twirled to a halt then bowed to her partner, Noir. She dabbed her brow with a lace handkerchief and headed over to join Sin and Zonda. “When shall we three meet again? In airship laboratories, bound by chain,” she said conspiratorially.

  Sin frowned, confused.

  “Macbeth. The three witches. Winifrid Shakespeare.” Velvet shook her head. “Never mind. I got your message, so I’m here.”

  “I want to tell you what Eldritch said.” Sin paused, uncertain. “But if I do it will change everything. It will put us on a dangerous path with no way back. I can’t do this on my own. I need the help of good friends. People I can trust.” Sin held out his hands, palms upwards. “Are you with me?”

  Zonda placed her hand on his, interlocking her fingers. “I’ll always be with you, Sin.”

  He nodded and smiled, then turned to look at Velvet. Her face was stark, displaying no emotion.

  “I owe you my life.” Velvet grasped Sin’s fingers with her brassanium hand. “Von Darques always remember their friends.”

  Sin squeezed both their hands. Zonda’s soft and warm, Velvet’s hard and cold. “We joined COG to stop a war, and to do that we must first stop the King’s Knights.”

  Before he could say more, Nimrod walked across the dance floor towards them. He nodded to Zonda and Velvet. “Ladies, may I borrow COG Sin for a moment?”

  “Absolutamon.” Zonda dropped Sin’s hand and took Velvet’s instead. “Would you honour me with the next dance?”

  Velvet smiled. “Anything to get out of having to dance with Noir again.”

  Nimrod led Sin across the disc of formal gardens surrounding the Sky Palace to the embarkation ramp. Hinged at both ends, with a cunning concertina at its centre to allow for changes in buoyancy, the long litanium gantry descended to the roof of Lenheim Palace.

  They clattered across the metal structure, an icy breeze swirling around them. It was a cloudless November night and although the moon had waned to a sliver, the stars shone brightly.

  “There’s something I want to show you.” Nimrod guided Sin between chimneystacks to the top of the tower that formed the upper part of the scientist’s quarters. “I know you’ve wanted to see the observatory for a while, but I was waiting for the right occasion.” He grasped the arm of a cherub statue that formed part of the sculpture decorating the tower. Pressing it down, hidden mekaniks clicked and a section of stone wall swung inwards.

  A sizeable telescope filled the tower’s interior, above it a large copper dome. Nimrod turned a wheel, and with the hiss of steam and the clicking of well-oiled gears part of the roof slid aside. “I realise I haven’t been the most forthcoming in respect to your mother.” Clockwork whirred and the telescope extended, stretching up towards the night sky. “Even after all these years, I find it so hard to talk about her.”

  Sin saw the tremble of Nimrod’s lips and the watery sheen in his eyes. There was something else, too, etched in the lines of the scientist’s face. For the first time, Sin recognised a similarity between himself and his father – not in looks, but in the guilt they bore. “She died protecting me,” said Sin. “She deserves to be remembered by more than just you.”

  “She does, and that’s partly why we’re here.”

  Sin didn’t understand the significance of the observatory. Perhaps it didn’t matter. He was finally going to get the answers he so desperately wanted. “You’ll tell me everything?”

  “I will. Although there may be things that not even I know. However, tonight we have other business.” Nimrod motioned to a chair beneath the telescope’s eyepiece. “Please, take a seat.”

  Adjusting the chair’s height, Sin looked through the viewer. In the middle of a sea of black sparkled a bright dot that seemed to pulse with a blueish hue. “Is that a star?”

  “It is. Although not just any star. I discovered it.”

  “You discovered a star?” Sin pulled away from the telescope to stare at Nimrod.

  Nimrod smiled. “I did. And that gives me naming rights.” He placed his hand on Sin’s shoulder. “I thought perhaps we could call it Eve Metis.”

  Sin looked back through the telescope in wonder. The picture blurred, and he brushed a tear from his eye. So long as there were stars in the sky, his mother would always be remembered.

  THE END

  The Clockill and The Thief was not written in isolation and I would like to thank a number of people for their help.

  Thanks to Linsay Knight and Nicola Santilli at Walker Books Australia for their editorial expertise, and to all the staff at Walker for supporting me with these books.

  Thanks to Adele Broadbent and Jackie Rutherford for feedback on my early drafts and to Brandi Dixon from “Charcoal and Brass” for feedback on my later drafts.

  Thanks again to Storylines and Tessa Duder for all their help on this journey.

  Thanks to all the reviewers, booksellers, book reps and customers who loved Traitor and supported it. Please have no doubt that it was you fantabulous people that made the sequel possible.

  Thanks to Bex and Karl at “Little Red Robot” for drawing the awesome graphics on my website: www.garethwardauthor.com

  Thanks to Adam and Lynda for bizarre cheese, and Cthulhu, and being top shelf weird.

  Thanks to our dog Tonks for keeping my feet warm while I wrote.

  And special thanks to Alex, Max and Louise who are my life.

  GARETH WARD (aka The Great Wardini) is a magician, hypnotist, storyteller and bookseller. He has worked as a Royal Marine Commando, police officer, evil magician and zombie. He basically likes jobs where you get to wear really cool hats. Born near Oxford in the UK, he currently lives in Hawke’s Bay, New Zealand, where he runs two independent bookshops with his wife Louise. His first novel, The Traitor and the
Thief, a rip-roaring young adult steampunk adventure, won the 2016 Storylines Tessa Duder Award, the 2018 Sir Julius Vogel Award for Best Youth Novel, was a 2018 Storylines Notable Book Award and was a finalist in two categories at the New Zealand Book Awards for Children and Young Adults. You can learn more about the fantabulous world of Gareth Ward at www.garethwardauthor.com

  First published in 2019

  by Walker Books Australia Pty Ltd

  Locked Bag 22, Newtown

  NSW 2042 Australia

  www.walkerbooks.com.au

  The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

  Text © 2019 Gareth Ward

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise – without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  COVER IMAGES: steam punk skull © Agor2012/Shutterstock.com; mechanisms © Agor2012/Shutterstock.com; stained metal plates © Andrey_Kuzmin/Shutterstock.com; boy silhouettes © basel101658/Shutterstock.com; adult silhouettes © alex74/Shutterstock.com; airship silhouette © HerArtSheLoves/Shutterstock.com