by Anna Butler
We raced into the pit room, and Thoth put out his hand and wiped the faint grin from George’s face.
“Bloody hell.” George stopped dead.
The great machine hulked before us, silent menace in every wheel and cog. It was enormous. Daunting enough to pull the heart from a man.
“Yes, indeed.” I lowered my voice. “Sound might carry up the shaft. We’d better be quiet now.”
So quiet, we took off our boots and socks. I didn’t fancy fighting barefoot, but I liked even less the thought of boot cleats ringing the ladder rungs like chapel bells and bringing disaster on our heads.
I dialled back the brimstone in my hand until it was something a glow-worm would sneer at, and breathed my last instructions into George’s ear. “I’ll turn this off entirely when we’re on the ladder. Keep it quiet—speed isn’t as important as silence. That thing’s likely to tick, or beat, or whatever it does, while we’re in the shaft. We just cling on and bear it.”
George grimaced but nodded.
I led the way across the bridge to the walkway, and squirmed inside the machine’s outer skeleton. George followed me in, flattening beside me against the stone column. It was a tight fit for the two of us, with not a lot of room to wriggle as we got onto the ladder. He jerked his head towards the pit and the aether will-o’-the-wisps far below us, his expression grimmer than an open grave. I supposed my description of it on the staircase was a bleached, bloodless reflection of the reality.
I’m no athlete. No skipping up the ladder like a mountain goat for me. I put my foot onto the bottom rung, at waist height, and heaved myself up, with George giving me a boost. As soon as I was a few feet up and George was on the lower rungs, I jammed the brimstone deep into my pocket.
Darkness shrouded us. Three hundred feet above our heads a square of queer, dingy light marked the opening of the square shaft around the smaller Antikythera machine in the Place of Verification.
Three hundred feet. It wasn’t all that far. So close we couldn’t risk a light or sound. But at the same time, it felt an impossible distance, more arduous than scaling Mont Blanc.
Thoth must have had long legs and arms. The rungs on the ladder were about eighteen inches apart—a voice in my mind, sounding terribly like Ned’s, corrected the estimate to “a cubit, of course, Rafe”—just enough of a difference to a human-sized ladder to make every step up more of an effort than it should be.
I didn't dare go too fast. One slip would be fatal. Slow and steady. Be a tortoise, not a hare. Slow and steady. I ignored the burn in my shoulder and thigh muscles, kept my eyes on the stone a few inches from my nose, arms above my head, hands reaching for the next rung, testing each one as I went to make sure none had rusted and worked loose over the eons. Not that I expected Thoth to allow it. He embodied perfection.
My real worry was that Ned hadn’t seen any signs of the ladder higher up. What if it ran out short of the top?
At one point, I thought it did. My right hand flailed around at what I knew—I knew—was the right height for the next rung, but connected with nothing. It had to be there. It had to—
Over to one side. A rung slapped against my hand. I grasped it, slid my palm along it, and grabbed a firmer handhold. The ladder had a sort of twist in it, marking the transition place where the column left the open space of the pit chamber to be enclosed by the square shaft cut through the mass of the pyramid’s lowest step, though why Thoth needed his ladder to shift over a couple of feet was beyond me. I slanted over to the right, slowing to swing myself into the new orientation. Immediately above me now one of the bridges spanned the square hole placed there to allow Thoth access to the Antikythera machine in its centre.
Good. The bridge was narrow, but it offered a little shelter. Made us less easy to see.
Halfway. We must be halfway there. More.
We were climbing up inside the shaft now. It wasn’t any darker than the pit chamber, but it was windier. The air in the pit had never been turbulent, but it had moved in the open room, shifting with whatever system Thoth created to ventilate the pyramid. The gap between the column and the sides of the shaft was a good seven feet, funnelling the air upwards, strengthening the air currents.
It was cool inside this stone tomb, especially on a winter’s night. Yet sweat trickled down my spine, the hairs on my head lifting and prickling. I might have missed the column’s gentle vibration if I hadn’t been pressed against it, clinging to it.
I looked down. I could just make out George making the same traverse to the new orientation of the ladder I’d done earlier. Far, far below him, the aether lychlights writhed and moved up towards us. They were faster and brighter than before, casting their cold blue gleam on the great wheels and dark glass globes filling the pit.
It was coming.
No way to warn George, but he was no fool. He’d be ready.
My hands were sweating, slipping on the rung above me, and I tightened my grip. I clenched my fingers. If they’d had mouths and voices, they’d have screamed.
Chukkkkka-
The air whined out between my teeth. The sound roared up from beneath us. It swallowed us, gulped us down, the meagre defences of our frail human bodies stormed by it as by an overwhelming army. It echoed and reverberated, setting a vibration in my bones that threatened to rattle the teeth from my head. I shuddered and shook with the force of it, pressing my face in the gap between two rungs until my cheek rested on the column’s cold stone, clinging on with arms and legs until every muscle made a soundless screech of pain.
-THUNK
The column vibrated against me. One shake. Another, less violent. Another. And it stopped.
Silence again; the smothering baleful silence reminding us how insignificant we were against the power of the god. My hands ached, clenched on the rungs until the metal bit into my palms. I held on, relishing not being dead. It would be so much nicer if I never needed to move again.
Something touched my ankle. A hand, tapping against the bone.
George. Typical that a bloody House guard couldn’t give me a moment or two to recover my equanimity.
Dry-mouthed, hands shaky, I went on. There was no going back.
At the top, a single offset rung would allow me to squirm out from under the bridge. No wonder Ned hadn’t seen it. The enamelled black metal was camouflaged against the basalt blocks of the column.
We’d come up the south face of the shaft, the side of the Verification Chamber where Thoth had left all his toys lying on the long table. Clinging under the bridge, twisted to peer around the south end of the chamber, I couldn’t see anything of Altenfeld or his men. I had to hitch myself up and look to the left before I spotted one of them. He wasn’t level with me, but stood a little forward of the machine—and me. He wasn’t looking behind him.
As silently as could be managed, one hand on the offset rung and the other splayed on the bridge, I hoisted myself up onto the narrow walkway around the Antikythera machine. The Prussian was focused on whatever was going on between the machine and the vestibule, but I didn’t hurry. I didn’t want a sharp movement to catch the edge of his vision and turn his attention onto me. It was better when I was on the walkway, the column and the machine both broad enough to hide me. To my right was the eastern bridge across the shaft mouth, a single step away when I needed to take it.
I bent at the waist and peeped around the eastern corner of the machine.
The other two Prussians had moved in closer and made a better target now they weren’t so spread out. One stood near Nell, who was still seated on her little stool; Theo had put himself between them. He was stiff with tension, but I couldn’t see enough of Nell to tell how she was holding up. The other Prussian and Günter Reitz were with Altenfeld, who sat on Thoth’s throne, the table before him strewn with papyri. He held one up to the light, turning it this way and that.
“Very interesting to our scientists, I am sure.” Reasonably unaccented English, but his tone was affected. “And they will ma
ke good use of these things. But I want more, the thing of great significance that the Kaiser and the Stadtschloss require of me.” He fluttered the papyrus in Theo’s direction.
Theo shrugged. “I can’t help you. I don’t read hieroglyphs.”
“Ah, but your brother can. The Stadtschloss will want the weapon that brought down our aeroships. All of this”—and Altenfeld waved the papyrus again—“suggests we should find a papyrus on the machine. It drives the weapon, ja?”
He looked towards the Antikythera machine as he spoke, and I froze, hoping he couldn’t see anything of me. Otherwise the game would be decidedly up. George touched my shoulder, and when I glanced at him, he nodded towards the other corner of the machine. Good. He’d reach the west bridge in a step when needed. We were about ready to go.
“I have no idea. I’m not an engineer.”
Altenfeld sagged back and blew out a breath. “You are most stubborn. Did your brother find it? He was alone in the pyramid with Lancaster for more than an hour. Exploring, they said. What did they find?”
“Ned didn’t say, and I don’t read minds any better than I read hieroglyphs. I’m the wrong tree to bark up, Altenfeld.” Theo’s sigh was so loud, I heard it. “We’ve had this conversation several times already. My answers will not change.”
Günter said something in German.
Altenfeld ignored him. “You should address me properly, Winter. As Euer Hochgeboren.”
Highborn? Günter’s stories back in Cairo, when he gossiped about Altenfeld’s irregular parentage, said otherwise. Unless his father had been a very tall footman.
“I don’t think so.” Theo was pleasant. Disinterested.
I swung the Marconi mouthpiece into place.
“Theo.” Günter’s tone held a warning.
“Oh, you English.” Altenfeld gestured to the Prussian near Nell.
An instant later, Theo let out a grunt of pain and staggered a few steps, clutching at the small of his back. A blow to the kidneys with the harquebus butt, most likely. Nell let out a high-pitched “Theo!” and jumped up to run to him.
I put my hand over the Marconi mouthpiece, to muffle the ghost of my whispered “Ned.”
“And you Englishwomen. Ornamental, perhaps, but useless.” Altenfeld rose and unhooked the aether lamp from its lotus-stem stand.
I glanced at George. He nodded. He was ready. We both were. Whatever chance we got, we’d take it.
Whatever chance we got. If we got one.
“Here.” Ned’s voice in my earpiece, as quiet as my own.
“We’re in place. On my mark.”
Out on the stage in front of us, this distasteful drama continued. Theo had fallen to his knees. Nell put her arm around his shoulders, holding him up.
“I think, Fräulein, we should attempt to remedy that.” Altenfeld returned to Thoth’s throne, the lamp in his hands sizzling and hissing its energy in little lightning storms wherever his fingers touched the glass globe. “You can be ornamental, but useful. Come here.”
She said something so unladylike I was tempted to cheer.
“You will learn obedience. Every time you defy me, Winter will suffer for it.”
“Wait,” I breathed into the mouthpiece. “The last guard is moving.”
The third Prussian, the one who’d been hanging back to my left, moved towards Nell, answering the beckoning summons from Altenfeld. Good. They had moved inwards, reducing the weapons coverage over the chamber.
But Nell and Theo were too close. Too close.
Nell threw off the hand the third Prussian extended to her, straightened shoulders already so perfectly aligned she might as well have been wearing a school-room backboard, and marched up to Altenfeld. Her chin was so high she sneered down her nose at him.
Not that it appeared to affect him. He held out the lamp. “You can be my ornamental lampstand.”
“Altenfeld!” Reitz was sharp as an ice pick.
Altenfeld continued to ignore him. He gestured to the Prussian who’d hit Theo. “Or shall I get Ribbeck to teach Winter the lesson you are refusing to learn? And that lesson, Fräulein, is that you English are worthless. You will do as you are told.” He sat back and smiled. “Perhaps I shall shoot him.”
Nell didn’t hesitate. She snatched the lamp globe from Altenfeld. Her face was set, expressionless.
“Excellent. I needed a better light. Hold it just there. Good. That’s very good, my dear.”
I’d kill him.
“Now, Ned.” I glanced at George and nodded.
He was ready.
Nell held the lamp in her outstretched hand. Her arm shook with the strain.
“Keep still,” Altenfeld said. “Reitz, this one could be useful—”
And Ned strolled through the portal.
“Good evening, Günni, Herr Altenfeld. I believe you’ve been looking for me.”
They froze into statues, as if Medusa had shown them her face.
Nell took one step forward and smashed the lamp onto the back of Altenfeld’s head. He fell forward with a surprised grunt. She raised the lamp and hit him again. The globe broke, spraying out the aether-phlogiston mix to ignite the instant it kissed the air.
“Nell!” Theo surged to his feet to reach her, just as the aether went up with a whoosh louder than a thunderclap.
But Reitz was there before him. He cannoned into her, knocking her down and rolling her to relative safety away from the vivid blue flames.
I leapt from behind the machine. One foot landed square on to the eastern slab bridge, and that was all the impetus I needed to use it as a springboard to reach the other side of the pit shaft. I was already firing, and the Prussian who’d been close to Reitz earlier folded over to clutch at his gut. Behind Ned, the Gallowglass guards roared into the room.
Someone screamed, a shriek that tore the air apart.
The second Prussian, Ribbeck, was down under the blaze of Banger Bill’s pistol, and George had the third.
Down. They were all down.
Another howling screech.
Altenfeld had leapt up, his clothes and hair alight. He stumbled backwards, his arms thrashing about, brushing at the fire around his head and neck. A flame floated away from him to land on the table—the papyrus he’d been reading, all ablaze. It licked at the other papyri lying there, breathing them into the same brief incandescent life that ended in ashes.
Where the hell was Nell?
“Nell!” I ran to Altenfeld, pulling off my jacket as I went.
I threw it over Altenfeld’s head. He screamed and screamed, writhing away from me. I tripped him and followed him to the floor, pressing the smouldering jacket in tight, choking off the air the flames needed.
A pistol boomed, and now the scream was Nell’s.
Nell!
I smothered Altenfeld’s head with the jacket and pushed away, leaving him to it. He was rigid and still now, sobbing on each hard, fast breath.
Where the hell was Nell?
She stood behind Thoth’s throne, Reitz’s arm around her waist, pulling her in against his chest. He had a pistol very close to her temple.
“I am so very sorry,” he said.
George and one of Banger’s men held Theo back. Banger himself bent over Altenfeld, pressing the jacket into place to be sure the fire was out, but his eyes were on Reitz. Altenfeld had stopped sobbing, harsh coughs rasping in his throat, shaking him to pieces. Banger gave him an impatient shove to one side and stepped back, bringing up his pistol.
“I will not hurt her,” Reitz said. “I will not. I just need to talk without your people killing me, Ned. I promise.”
Ned faced him, arms rigid down his sides, his hands in fists. “Let her go, Günni.”
“In a moment. In a moment. Ned, I did not want anyone hurt—”
Ned made a chopping motion with one hand. “Get on with it!”
“Ned, I will hand over my gun, and you may put whatever restrictions on me you like, if you will let me take something back fr
om here to show the Stadtschloss. Just a couple of the papyri. That would do it. They do not have to be anything important. Just something to satisfy the Kaiser. This is my best chance, you see. It is the only way I will ever get it back. That is all I ask. Two little papyri.”
Damn it. My sister’s body shielded him. I didn’t have a clear enough shot.
“There’s nothing to take,” I said.
The papyri were ash, the gleaming edges dulling to dark grey.
Günter Reitz’s mouth dropped open. “No.”
I went to stand nearer Ned to give me a better chance at Reitz. “Let her go, Günter.”
Nell’s gaze met mine. I put everything I could into the silent promise I made her. She wet her lips, and her gaze slid away to Theo.
“But I have no other chance! You do not understand—”
“Oh, I think I do.” He’d lied to me the other day, telling me of the estates taken by the Prussians. I’d be a terrible farmer, he’d said. “You want your father’s estate back.”
Reitz looked… he looked lost. He drew a deep wavering breath that echoed around the chamber. Then, very gently and slowly, he released Nell and stepped back. He lowered the hand holding the pistol until the barrel pointed at the floor.
Theo wrenched free of the House guards and bounded to Nell as if he had springs in the heels of his boots. He caught hold of her, wheeling her to one side away from Reitz, holding her so tight she probably couldn’t breathe. I left him to it. He would take care of her.
“Günni?”
Reitz looked at me, not Ned. “Rafe is right, Ned. They promised me… They promised I could get it back.”
“Your mother didn’t do you any favours.” I wouldn’t feel pity for him. I wouldn’t. “Living at the castle gates, I mean, so you knew, every minute of every day, what they’d taken from you.”
He flashed into brief life. “No! She was right! She was right to never give up. She would never let me forget it is mine. They stole it. Those verdammt Prussians stole it! I—” The energy drained away. “It was my only chance.”
