The Tinker King

by Tiffany Trent

  “Get me out of here and I swear, I swear . . .”

  All I can feel for her is pity as the shadow closes in on her and drags her back into the lake of fire.

  I jerk awake, sweating, the blanket wadded between my fists. I toss my hair out of my face and sit there, shaking.

  I can still hear her voice. I can feel the terror, a unique terror that only I can understand.

  Please, she whispers in the dawn, please help me.

  I’m so eager to get the key to Olivia and see if it actually works that I forget all about breakfast. I practically run to Tesla’s workshop. I haven’t forgiven him, not one whit, but if he perhaps has begun to understand what is happening and is willing to help us, then maybe I will be able to forgive him.

  But only if Olivia wakes up.

  As I approach her on the table, it’s still hard to reconcile her with the person she was. But I see that Tesla has finished cleaning her so that she shines, and has repaired the circuitry on her ankle.

  Tesla is working at the other end of the shop on some hulking thing that I only dimly saw last time in my rage.

  When he sees me, he puts down the tools he’s working with and comes to the workbench.

  I pull the key from my pocket.

  “You found it, I see,” he says. “I was about to start pouring a key mold. Only problem with this world—you have to build every single thing you want from scratch. Well . . . some things.” He looks around at the everlanterns.

  “I was given it,” I say. “And I hope I don’t fail the person who gave it to me. Or her.”

  I place the key in the keyhole. I can hear the gears winding and tumbling, the whir of flywheels and cogs and inner workings so intricate as I can’t even imagine.

  The ticking grows louder, but nothing happens.

  “Please, please,” I whisper under my breath.

  Olivia’s eyelids flutter and open wide. She lifts her hands. When she rises and sees her feet, she stumbles off the bench and falls in a clanking heap on the floor.

  “Olivia!” I bend down to pick her up, but she moves me away from her with terrifying strength. She puts her hands back on the slab to steady herself. Looking down, Olivia sees the key slowly turning in her belly and she pulls it out, as if she’s just pulled out a dagger. Her gears and tumblers keep turning. They should keep going until she winds down, which hopefully will not be for a very long time.

  “Syrus?” Her voice doesn’t sound like her voice; it’s silvery and brittle, not the mellow honey it once was.

  But she knows me. She definitely knows me.

  “Do you remember what happened?”

  Olivia puts a hand to her forehead and seems both repulsed and intrigued by the clinking sound. She also seems to realize at the same time that she has no hair and no skin.

  “Yes,” she says slowly. “I remember too much.” She looks at me with metal eyes. “I remember everything. So many lives . . .”

  I look at Tesla. “How is that possible?”

  “I don’t know,” he says. “Perhaps she’s developed new memory cells . . . or . . .” He leans toward her as if to pry open one of her panels and discover all her secrets.

  “No,” I say. “No more experiments or tests. She is still the Empress of the Known Lands.”

  She smiles sadly. “Thank you for that, dear Syrus. Now, would one of you fetch me a robe?”

  In the end, Tesla is able to find her a dusty laboratory coat. She puts that on.

  “I suppose I don’t really need clothes anymore. It’s just . . . familiar.”

  I want to hold her hand because that is familiar too, but I don’t. I want to offer any number of comforts—tea, food, rest—but I realize probably none of those are particularly comforting to her now.

  “What has happened?” she says.

  I realize that much has happened and yet nothing.

  Tesla is better, apparently, at neutral subjects than I am and brings us over to the thing he was working on.

  “I have just finished a new invention,” he says.

  He calls the circulating everlanterns to all focus above the thing. For a moment I’m deeply amused. It looks like a mechanical Kraken.

  “I call it the Cephalopod,” he says.

  “What does it do?” I ask.

  Olivia is looking over it, gently touching it with her silver fingertips. I can almost hear the processors whirring, taking in information.

  “A little bit of everything,” Tesla says. “It can be used on land or in water. It can pick up things, cut things, hold things . . . I envision it largely as a drilling and tunneling engine.”

  Olivia smiles. “It’s a work of art.”

  “As are you, Your Majesty,” Tesla says.

  I’m genuinely moved by his respect for her. I would not have expected it. I feared he simply wanted to use her for whatever he could.

  He takes us over to another bench. “And here is where I am perfecting my radiant energy device.”

  Although Olivia’s face can now hold no expression, I sense distaste and hesitance in her gaze.

  There are antennae all strewn about and another of the little black boxes like the sort that nearly broke Olivia apart.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “It won’t hurt you anymore. I had no idea it would have that effect. I suppose I should make a note of that.” And he does, on a little notebook he whips from his pocket.

  “What is it supposed to do?” Olivia asks.

  “All kinds of things, Majesty. It could potentially give heat and light to all. It could transmit waves of sound around the world so that people could talk to one another from any point on the globe, no matter how far away.”

  She draws back in disbelief. “That hardly seems possible, Mr. Tesla.”

  Tesla smiles at her. “I would have said the same of you, Majesty. You are indeed my dream come true.”

  CHAPTER 30

  The slender invitation arrived on a tray in the late afternoon. Vespa had kept to herself throughout most of the day, practicing and reading more books that Truffler had brought her.

  Your presence is requested in the Trophy Room at five o’ clock.

  Somehow the simplicity of it made her exceptionally nervous, as if she was being invited to her own execution. But she let the maids dress her in yet another plain gown and put up her hair with horn combs. She secured the scarabeus on her wrist, hoping she wouldn’t need to use it.

  She was led back to the first room they’d dined in just after they’d arrived at Scientia. Although the refreshments and trappings weren’t as elaborate, she was still dazzled by the architecture and magnificence of the Grimgorn collection. She browsed the cases, admiring the handiwork of the taxidermist who had preserved birds and butterflies from all around Newtonia. But at the same time she had to wonder if this was any better or worse than what she had done for the Museum. Many Elementals had nearly gone extinct because of human rapacity. Were other species experiencing the same troubles?

  Bayne entered then with Arlen. Though Bayne’s clothes weren’t evered or too richly embroidered, he no longer wore the Pedant’s coat he’d had since she’d known him. He hadn’t spoken to her since he’d seen her in the garden with Charles, and he refused to look at her now.

  Vespa lifted her chin and stared fixedly at the butterflies in the case. She had no reason to feel ashamed. He had no claim on her, and she had done nothing wrong.

  She did look up, though, when Syrus and Tesla entered, escorting Olivia between them. It was the first time she’d seen Olivia since they had agreed to allow Tesla to remove her dying flesh.

  To say it was a shock was an understatement. Gone was the golden hair, the deep gray eyes. Gone the pale hands that fluttered at Olivia’s throat when she laughed or smiled. There was only silver, folded and hammered into the shapes of a human woman. She wore a dress for modesty, Vespa supposed, but it looked as though someone had tried to dress up a child’s toy.

  Vespa fought the urge to run. She didn’t
want to see her friend this way. She didn’t want to accept the truth. But it was Syrus’s face, the tenderness with which he helped Olivia to her seat, that kept Vespa in the room.

  She went up to her Empress and offered her the greatest curtsy she could muster. “Your Majesty.”

  “Vee!”

  Vespa hid her wince. Even Olivia’s voice was gone, replaced by something metallic and seemingly inhuman.

  But the emotions were still there. Olivia rose and embraced her, and though her arms were heavy and her cheek cold, Vespa realized her friend was still there with her.

  “Are you well, Majesty?” Vespa asked.

  Olivia nodded, and Vespa could hear the mechanical whir of gears as she did so.

  “Much better! Though I hope you don’t find me too hideous now to look upon.”

  Vespa looked into her metal eyes and took one of Olivia’s silver fingers in her own. “Never,” she said.

  Vespa hadn’t even noticed that Charles had come in, except when he cleared his throat. She took her seat by Syrus.

  “You’re looking well, too,” Vespa whispered.

  “Hard not to when one finally gets some sleep,” Syrus said.

  “I’ve called you all here,” Charles said rather loudly, “for a very special purpose.”

  “Execution?” Syrus muttered under his breath. Nothing Charles could do would ever make Syrus fully trust him, Vespa guessed.

  “I am immensely pleased to see that Nikola and Mr. Reed have restored Her Majesty to herself. Thank you for that effort. I hope this means we will be able to protect her all the better against what is coming and ensure the future of the realm.”

  “And just how do you plan to do that exactly?” Bayne asked. “Are we not all precisely where you want us? Spring your trap, sir, and have done!”

  Charles looked genuinely baffled. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean!”

  “I mean, the facts do not line up in your favor, Charles,” Bayne said. “Consider: There was a great plague, but you survived; you sent an airship just in our hour of need, after a year of not responding to our Empress’s correspondence. Yet you knew, in point of fact, what the Empress was and what advantage she might give you were she to come here, did you not?”

  “I—” Charles began.

  The Empress held up a silver hand. “Enough, my Lord. I can speak for myself here.”

  “As you wish, Majesty.”

  “Charles, I do not have the history with you that others at this table have had,” Olivia said. “It will be easier for you therefore to tell me the truth, I hope. We were warned before we came here that you had overthrown the Duke and were holding the people hostage. But when we came, we found you a victim of circumstance, a grieving widower who had been thrust into the position of caring for a Duchy. We found you pleasant and helpful. Yet every step of the way you have just been waiting for us to help you find the key, to reveal me for what I truly am, yes?”

  There was a long silence. Charles’s gaze darted between them like a frantic bird.

  “I am Your Majesty’s most humble servant!” he said. “If I was otherwise, would I have been as pleasant and helpful as you say? Would I have returned the Duchy to its former heir?” Charles looked at Bayne. “And while the facts may not be in my favor, my Lord, I had nothing to do with that wretched plague. I loved your sister. I would never have harmed her or this City. What was begun in Old London was completed by your sister. I am not the man I was.”

  Now it was Olivia’s turn to be silent. Vespa could almost hear the gears turning.

  At last she said, “Over the centuries I have seen many men like you, Charles. Men who wanted power. Men who tried to do good and could not because their love of power overruled them. Do not be one of those men. They never end well.”

  Vespa watched Charles carefully. He bowed and lowered his eyes. She sensed nothing amiss. No curl of the lip, no craven hypocrisy, as he said, “I shall endeavor not to repeat history, Majesty.”

  When he straightened, he met all of their gazes. “But you must all endeavor to do the same. Whether you will it or no, your freeing of the Heavenly Dragon has unbalanced the world. Now you must set it right.”

  “And so we will,” Syrus said. “When the battle is won and my people are free . . .”

  “You are a fool, Tinker.” Charles said it without menace, but Syrus rose in protest. Olivia put a hand on his arm and forced him to sink back beside her.

  “If you kill Ximu,” Charles said, “you will only make matters worse.” He looked at Bayne. “You of all people should know what happens when those who deal in magic circumvent the Great Law.”

  “And you should know your history better, Charles. The Great Law was set in place after the binding of the Umbrals. It affects only those who swore to uphold it.”

  Charles laughed, and it reminded Vespa of his former self. “You truly think that killing an Umbral that has been here since the foundation of the world will not unbalance the very essence of magic? Look what setting Tianlong free did!”

  There was a long silence.

  Syrus spoke up in a small voice. “There is also another thing to think about: Lucy Virulen.”

  “How so?” Bayne asked.

  “She came to me in a dream, after the Tinker King lifted Ximu’s curse. She told me that she wanted to be free, that she’d had no choice but to join with Ximu to survive.”

  “Ximu cursed you?” Bayne asked.

  Syrus’s fingers danced over the old wound on his neck. “Yes. She has been using me to spy on all of us, trying to force me to give Olivia over to her. Until now.” Olivia laid a silver hand on his arm in silent sympathy.

  Charles ignored this information as if it was not new to him. “If you kill Ximu,” he said, “you will almost certainly kill Lucy.”

  “But you killed the Grue,” Vespa said, “and you lived to tell about it.”

  Charles shook his head. “No. I was able to weaken him enough to separate from him without lasting harm to myself. There’s a difference.”

  “So, what are you suggesting?” Bayne asked.

  “Separate Ximu and Lucy. Trap Ximu for all eternity, so that she is alive but can no longer do any harm.”

  Everyone spoke at once. Olivia called again for quiet.

  “Let us think about this, and how it might be done. If Lucy is truly repentant, then we should do our best to help her, yes?”

  “How can it be done?” Vespa asked.

  “Quite honestly,” Charles said, “I don’t know if it can be done here. But I do have the formulae for the purgatives I took. The other thing that will be needed, the final thing, is a literal shock to the system.”

  “As in some sort of blast of etheric energy?” Bayne asked. Vespa could see he was still incredulous.

  “Yes, in a manner of speaking. Though Tesla can summon it up via radiant energy fields, as you saw in his demonstration.”

  “So,” Vespa said, “we feed Ximu these potions, then shock her, and that should somehow free Lucy?”

  Charles nodded.

  “But how do we get the purgatives into her?” Olivia asked.

  Charles smiled. “We will need bait.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Vespa finds me in Tesla’s workshop, of course. Olivia and I have been working together on one of Tesla’s radiant energy transmitters. She’s quite skilled at such things, having regained a memory of helping her former King in building the army and their weaponry. Tesla’s making several transmitters, enough so that we can cast a net of energy across the city and see if it will actually power everything without the use of myth. If it does, we may be able to keep Ximu’s army at bay more easily than we’ve thought. Tesla is out installing some of the others in a small net as a test.

  Olivia holds the panel open with her metal fingers so that I can reach inside and weld the plates together according to Tesla’s plan. She can withstand much more heat than I can and has greater strength. It still is so strange that I can barely allow
myself to think about it, except that her metal eyes are looking at me and she is smiling her silver smile.

  I realize Vespa is there when Olivia nods toward a point behind me.

  I feel a bit of dread in the pit of my stomach for some reason. I think I know what Vespa has come to ask about. I really don’t want to say yes.

  I slide the face shield from my head and turn.

  When Vespa hears the sparking of the welder stop, she also turns to face us. “Syrus. Olivia.”

  Her voice seems overly cheerful.

  I try not to sound sullen. “What?”

  “Syrus,” Olivia whispers. Even her whispers now have metal in them.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but may I speak with you for just a moment?”

  Vespa wrings her hands for a second, as if she’s rehearsed this but suddenly has forgotten how to begin. “Look,” she says, “I know that none of us really like Charles. I don’t like him either. But I think that he has a good plan, perhaps the best plan we’ve yet come across.”

  “You mean the one about trapping Ximu in the strongest paralytic field ever created so that she’s just biding her time until someone lets her loose?” I ask.

  Vespa purses her lips. “Not exactly.”

  “Well, that is what will happen, you know.”

  “But you’d rather kill her instead?” Vespa tilts her head, and her eyes are sharp and defiant as the day she pulled the banshee alarm on me.

  “Look, that isn’t really what I’d prefer. I’d rather not kill anything if I can help it. But it seems to me the risk of doing otherwise is too great.”

  “How so? You know better than anyone what happens when things are thrown out of balance,” Vespa says.

  I grit my teeth. “Yes, but—”

  “So, how will killing her solve anything?”

  “She’ll be dead. She won’t ever come back to haunt us again.”

  “You know it’s not that simple. When something with as much power as she possesses is destroyed or mortally wounded, the entire world can fall out of balance. Who knows what Ximu caused when she killed the Titan and turned her into a palace?” She says it with great confidence, but again it sounds as if she’s been rehearsing all this.