Amid Wind and Stone

by Nicole Luiken

  The wizened priest began to sing a hymn in a cracked, but loud voice: “Goddess have mercy.” More voices joined in, but the Goddess seemed disinclined to listen.

  “Mercy? What mercy have you shown My children?”

  Another tremor almost bounced Dorotea off her feet. She lurched sideways and fell to one knee. Gerhardt and Burt likewise slipped and slowed. The gargoyle alone kept his feet, riding out the tremor with ease.

  “He’s wearing a collar,” Elect Harmon yelled as dust sifted down onto his hair, turning the brown strands gray. “The gargoyle is under her control. Seize her!”

  Burt rushed at Dorotea. The ground heaved under them, sending them both sprawling. Dorotea bruised her hip. Ominous creaks came from overhead, and cracks appeared in the stone ceiling.

  A rock the size of a child tumbled down and shattered on the Cathedral floor thirty feet away. One of the white-robed priests cried out, stung by rock chips. A dark-haired girl around Marta’s age screamed, though she seemed unhurt.

  The Goddess snarled in anger. The cavern shook.

  Dorotea’s stomach churned with bile. What had she done? She cowered on the floor, her hands over her head. “Tell Her we’ll help Her children! Beg Her to stop!”

  The gargoyle laid his hand on the wall again, murmuring under his breath.

  The shaking stopped. “My patience grows thin. Heal my children, or be annihilated when next I wake.” The Goddess’s eyes closed, the crystals once again covered by dark gray stone.

  Dorotea drew in a ragged breath.

  The underpriestess seized Dorotea’s arm and covered her mouth to keep her from commanding the gargoyle. The woman smelled of sweat. She was terrified of both the gargoyle and her own goddess, which seemed wrong.

  Dorotea bit the fleshy part of her palm. The priestess let go with a cry.

  On hands and knees, Dorotea scrambled toward the gargoyle. Someone grabbed the back of her dress and yanked.

  Across a gap of fifteen feet, her gaze met the gargoyle’s. Dorotea suddenly realized that, in her haste, she hadn’t given the gargoyle any instructions on what to do after delivering her message to the Goddess. He could flee, and the collar wouldn’t stop him.

  She should’ve been horrified but found herself oddly ambivalent. If he kept his word and stayed far away from humans, then she didn’t begrudge him his freedom.

  Burt hauled her to her feet by the back of her dress. He’d lost his maul somewhere. Dorotea stomped on his feet and kicked his shin, trying to slither free. He ignored the blows and held her fast from behind so that her arms were bound to her sides.

  “Get the bracelets off her!” Gerhardt yelled.

  The Elect grabbed her left wrist. “I don’t see them.”

  Dorotea lifted her legs, knees bunched up and planted her feet on his stomach. She kicked with all her strength. The Elect stumbled back, but her struggles made one bracelet slide down her wrist into view.

  “I see it!” Elect Harmon pressed forward again, and this time, she didn’t get her feet up in time. He wrenched at her wrist.

  And then the gargoyle shoved him aside with casual, brutal strength. His stone hands squeezed Burt’s wrists.

  Burt gasped and dropped her. Dorotea fell on her bottom.

  “Any orders you’d like to give?” The gargoyle smirked.

  Dorotea screamed as Gerhardt rushed up and swung his maul, hard, at the gargoyle’s head.

  Alerted by her warning, the gargoyle twisted and ducked under the murderous swing.

  Terror parched Dorotea’s mouth. The maul might shatter the gargoyle. It would definitely split her head open like a ripe pumpkin, and Gerhardt wasn’t taking particular care to avoid hitting her. She scooted backward on her bum.

  Gerhardt raised the maul over his head and began to swing it down. The gargoyle caught the handle close to the sledge and held it off with impressive strength.

  “The bracelets, you fools!” Gerhardt yelled.

  Elect Harmon licked his lips. “Get them, Burt!”

  Coward.

  Dorotea hid from Burt behind the gargoyle. Ironic, when not long before she’d been terrified of him.

  “Still waiting for orders, Mistress,” the gargoyle sang out. He almost seemed to be enjoying himself. He yanked the maul free from Gerhardt’s hands and threw it twenty feet away.

  You must never hurt me or any other human, she’d told him. Even if you command me to? he’d asked. Only the memory of the gargoyle’s mockery kept her from ordering him to knock Burt and Gerhardt out.

  Dorotea yelled, “Gargoyle! Take me to safety!”

  The gargoyle stooped and slung Dorotea over his shoulder. He began to run, bulling forward. Every stride drove his hard shoulder into her stomach, and all the blood rushed to her head. Dizzy, she nonetheless had the presence of mind to hold tight to her bracelets.

  Upside down, Dorotea saw Gerhardt and Burt pick up their mauls and run after the gargoyle. A gap quickly opened up. Even carrying her weight, the gargoyle’s longer stride and greater strength prevailed.

  They reached the hollowed out space next to the grotto. The gargoyle dumped her on her feet and stepped inside with her. He raised his hands to manipulate the rock.

  Dorotea saw Burt’s eyes widen in surprise—and then a layer of stone flowed across the opening, enclosing them within seconds.

  Chapter Eight

  Two Visits, One Familial and One Mercantile—

  In Which Hatpins of a Special Nature are Purchased

  Air World

  The day before the Queen’s Birthday, Audrey sneaked off to see Grady.

  Knowing her mother had a dressmaker’s appointment, she’d boldly claimed that the thank-you note she’d received from the Henderson sisters was actually a picnic invitation. Her mother had granted her permission to go. She’d had to take a footman with her, but Jem had never tattled on her the other times she’d detoured to Tier Four to visit her half brother.

  “Oh, it’s you.” Grady sounded disappointed when he opened the door. He must have seen the family crest on the pedal car and hoped that their father had relented. He sagged against the doorframe, gray of face and apathetic.

  A pang of pity and guilt struck Audrey. She felt desperately sorry for her part in the fiasco, but she still believed he would have fallen to his death otherwise. His naval career had been doomed from the beginning.

  She pushed past him. “Here. I brought some foodstuffs to tide you over until Father relents.” She set the heavy basket down on the rickety table. She’d told Cook to pack a picnic luncheon for six people, knowing from experience there would be enough food for at least ten.

  Grady mumbled an embarrassed thank you. His younger sister Mae immediately started unpacking the hamper and exclaiming over it. “A whole ham! This’ll feed us for a week! Ooh, look, jam tarts, my favorite!”

  Audrey flushed. “It’s nothing,” she said. Her father ought to have provided better for his son.

  “Cor, look at the pretty patterns on the plates. Bet we could sell them for a pretty penny down at the market,” Mae said excitedly. Her hair was even redder than Grady’s.

  Grady closed his eyes and spoke through clenched teeth, “The plates belong to Lady Audrey. She’ll be taking the hamper back with ’er. I’m sorry,” he said to Audrey. “Mae’s a proper little merchant.”

  “It’s all right. I’m sorry I didn’t come by sooner,” she said awkwardly. “I’ve been restricted to the house.”

  Silence fell. Finally, Grady inclined his head. “Shall we talk upstairs?” The narrow row house didn’t possess a parlor, but one of the attic bedrooms was Grady’s by virtue of his being the only boy.

  It was smaller than Audrey’s closet. They sat on the bed because the ceiling was too low to stand properly and there were no chairs. No wonder Grady hadn’t complained about the cramped bunks on board the flagship; he was used to bumping his head on the ceiling.

  Grady screwed up his eyes, seeming to brace himself for bad news. “Has he said
anything about me?”

  Audrey shook her head, feeling miserably selfish. She’d been so wrapped up in her own disgrace and the mystery of The Phantom, she’d hadn’t lobbied on behalf of Grady as hard as she could have. “But that doesn’t mean much. I only see him at mealtimes, and my mother’s there…” She trailed off.

  His face twisted. “And Lady Bethany hates me. I know.” He clunked his head against the wall and opened eyes haunted by despair. “What should I do? Ma’s washing don’t bring in enough money to feed us all. Nobody wants a fourteen-year-old apprentice. And I won’t have the young ’uns out selling flowers. Bad things happen to flower girls all the time,” he said fiercely. His speech, which he’d worked so hard to improve, was already slipping back into old dialect patterns. “Maybe I’ll join up with a pirate ship.”

  “You’re afraid of heights.”

  “A thief gang, then.”

  “No,” Audrey said, alarmed. “Don’t do anything drastic. Wait. Let me talk to him. He’s busy right now preparing for the Queen’s Birthday, but after that, I’ll pin him down.” Her promises sounded like hot air to her own ears, but Grady’s shoulders relaxed.

  “Thank you. You’re my favorite sister. O’ course it helps that you don’t steal my socks and make poppets out of ’em,” he joked.

  Audrey smiled painfully. She pleated the blanket under her hand. Was this all he slept under? It seemed far too thin.

  “I have some news,” she said. “I saw The Phantom again. He stole something from Father’s study and, um, talked to me.” She hesitated, but if she couldn’t tell Grady, then who could she tell? “I want to prove his existence to Father.”

  “Capture him, you mean? I’d love to get my hands on the bugger,” Grady said darkly.

  “So you believe me?” Audrey blurted. She’d feared that he thought her a liar, too.

  “O’ course. You wouldn’t lie to me about something so important.” Grady smiled fleetingly. “So what’s the plan? If I help capture him, maybe it’ll get me back in Da’s good graces.”

  “I sent him a message on the wind, asking him to meet me during the parade.”

  Grady waited a heartbeat, then his red eyebrows shot up. “That’s it? That’s your plan?”

  She grimaced. “Well, that and enlisting you. Between the two of us, we’ll figure something out. Will you help me?”

  “I’m in,” he said firmly. “So long as you promise the plan doesn’t involve you wearing trousers again.”

  Audrey stifled a small pang. “Deal.”

  “Is it—? Why, yes, it is. Lady Audrey, how lovely to see you again.”

  Audrey froze, then pasted on a smile and greeted Franklin’s friend. “Mr. Tennyson, what an unexpected surprise.” For just a second, she wondered if he was a fortune hunter who’d bribed a member of the staff to tell him her whereabouts, but, no, it had to be a coincidence. Everyone but Jem thought she was on a picnic at the Hendersons’, and even Jem hadn’t known she’d planned to stop here after visiting Grady.

  “Please call me Piers,” he invited her with a warm smile. He wore a gray suit, bowler, and goggles on the blustery day.

  “And you must call me Audrey.” Recalling her manners, she held out her gloved hand. He gripped it briefly, bowing over it as if they were in a ballroom and not standing on the street outside McNally’s Clockwork Emporium.

  Piers glanced around. “Where’s your escort? Surely, you’re not traveling alone on this tier?”

  “Jem is guarding the pedal car,” she said truthfully. She’d ordered him to stay outside, insisting she would only be a minute. The staff were very good at keeping mum about her clandestine visits to her brother’s family, but she didn’t want her purchase to become below-stairs gossip.

  It wasn’t as if she were in any danger of being accosted. Though McNally’s wasn’t a top-tier establishment, they were two terraces higher than Donlon’s slums. Audrey had never done more than overfly the lowest tiers, but it was said both that the air was so thick with poisonous marsh gas, you couldn’t walk without an air filter—and that the inhabitants were so poor, they couldn’t afford filters. The thought made her shudder.

  “Hmmm. In that case, good manners insist that I accompany you and keep you safe from all the dastardly villains and cutpurses hanging about,” Piers said, even though they were alone on the street. He placed her hand on his arm. “Unless you’re carrying a blunderbuss in your reticule?”

  Jem had the blunderbuss. “What would you do if I said I am?” she asked.

  “Apply to you for protection, of course. I don’t have a blunderbuss.”

  A smile escaped her. She didn’t need an escort, but Piers was good company. And the below-stairs gossip would now center on Piers and speculations that she’d arranged the chance meeting instead of what she bought. “If you don’t have a blunderbuss, what good are you?”

  His eyes twinkled. “I can be useful in other ways. Such as steering you around mud puddles.” He demonstrated. “And carrying hatboxes.”

  She glanced askance at him. “I’m not planning to buy a hat.”

  “What? No new hat for the Queen’s Birthday? What are you planning to do to celebrate?”

  “Father will be busy with Fleet maneuvers, of course, though he’ll try to join us for supper. Mother and I will watch the parade from the Hendersons’ balcony; they’re close to the palace and have a top-notch view. Then a light supper at Guillarme’s and on to the Royal Ball. I’m not old enough to attend yet, but there’s a Children’s Ball held in the royal gardens. They always do it up with fanciful decorations. Last year, it was butterflies.”

  Honestly, she would miss the Children’s Ball once she turned eighteen and was officially of marriageable age. From all reports, the Royal Ball was both very staid and a total crush.

  Audrey stopped, aware that she was chattering. “And you? Do you have family plans?”

  “Alas, my family will not be attending the festivities this year.”

  Which could mean anything from a decline in fortunes to an illness in the family or a pregnancy. But it was rude to ask which. Audrey shoved down her curiosity.

  “I’ll be on my own,” he continued lightly. “I’ll probably beg an invite off Franklin or another chum.”

  Audrey made a mental note to ask the Henderson sisters to invite him. He was handsome and personable. Maybe he could loosen Franklin up.

  They reached McNally’s Clockwork Emporium. Audrey studied the shop dubiously. The sign was gaily painted, and the gold scrollwork was pretty, but the window needed washing. She was suddenly glad Piers was here to squire her about.

  The first two aisles were full of toys and amusements. Audrey instantly thought of Grady’s sister Mae. Her hand started to reach for an adorable windup doll, then withdrew. She only had twenty-five gills in her purse. And she was here on business.

  The third aisle contained women’s gewgaws: brooches, hats, stylish goggles, parasols, and reticules with hidden compartments, ranging from quite clever to gaudy beyond belief. Piers picked up a large hat adorned with both peacock feathers and a miniature clock and plopped it on her head. “There. You look very fetching.”

  Audrey removed it. “It’s hideous.”

  “Yes, the hat is hideous. You, on the other hand, are fetching.” His voice had become husky.

  Audrey blushed. The flirtation felt fun, but it also made her feel skittish because she’d barely thought about Piers after the garden party, obsessing over the kiss she’d shared with The Phantom instead. Did that make her a flirt?

  She avoided Piers’s face and searched the shelves. Thankfully, she found what she was looking for at the end of the aisle.

  “Hatpins of a Special Nature?” Piers read the box’s label. “Never lose a hatpin again.”

  “I’m always losing my pins,” Audrey said truthfully. Piers trailed after her as she took the box up to the front counter and laid it down in front of the shopkeep. “I’ll take these.”

  “Fifty gills.”r />
  “Fifty?” Audrey squeaked. Fifty gills was three months’ allowance. She only had twenty-five.

  The shopkeep studied her over the rims of his spectacles. “They come with a brooch and are of Siparese manufacture. They were invented by the Clockwork Earl himself and are correspondingly dear. Fifty gills.”

  “For hatpins?” Piers interrupted. “Ridiculous. One can buy ten boxes for that price.”

  “Not these hatpins,” the shopkeep put in, affronted. “I done told you the Clockwork Earl invented them. Why, these are the only set of hatpins a lady will ever need. The regular kind fall out or get tugged loose by the wind, but these will never get lost. Let me demonstrate.” He picked up the brooch and moved it farther down the counter.

  The hatpins began to vibrate, then twitch. Small legs extruded from the tiny blue butterflies on the heads of the pins. Audrey watched in rapt fascination as the pins began to walk toward the box.

  The shopkeep laid his hand flat on the counter, and the clockwork hatpin bugs gamely clambered over the back of his hand.

  Once reunited with their “mama” brooch, the little legs smoothly folded away again.

  “How clever!” Audrey exclaimed.

  “Range is thirty feet,” the shopkeep boasted. “Fifty gills and cheap at the price.”

  Piers raised an eyebrow. “More like ten feet maximum, and they wouldn’t be worth fifty gills even if they were made by the Clockwork Earl. Which these aren’t. See here.” He picked up the brooch and showed the underside to Audrey. “The initials R.N. prove these were made by Robert Norton, a clever Donlon copier with whom I happen to be acquainted.”

  The shopkeep flushed red. “Miss, I can let them go for thirty-five gills. Any less and I’d be robbing myself.”

  Audrey had taken the shopkeep in dislike. She turned to Piers. “Let’s go.” She lifted her chin, and they swept out of the shop together.

  “Twenty-five gills!” the shopkeep shouted behind them.

  Audrey started to turn back, but Piers squeezed her elbow. “Forget him. I really do know the copyist, Norton. I’m sure he’ll sell you a set of hatpins for half price.”