The Clockwork God

by Jamie Sedgwick

  “Yes, Commander. May the Word protect you.”

  “And you.”

  The commander turned and left, leaving River in the company of the young soldier. “Who is the old man?” she asked.

  “The Keeper’s Thought. He doesn’t speak because he’s a mute.”

  “The Keeper’s Thought? What does he do?”

  The guard stared into the distance of the darkened hall. “The Thought is the Keeper’s adviser. He is a wise man. He will be an Ancient soon.”

  “So the Keeper keeps the Word of your god, and the Thought gives the Keeper advice?”

  “Is that not as it should be?”

  “But you said he’s mute. How can he give advice if he can’t speak?”

  “The Thought sacrificed his tongue for the honor of his position, and for the safety of the Keeper. He does not need to speak for god, does he?”

  The soldier’s voice had been very monotone at first, as if he’d simply been reciting the same words he’d heard over and over for all of his life. As River questioned him, she noted the pitch of his voice rising, and increasing tension in his posture. The soldier knew what he was supposed to say, as long as nobody asked the wrong questions. The more she tried to fathom the logic of the situation, the more apprehensive he became.

  River’s shoulders slumped. There was no point trying to make sense out of any of this, she decided. The thing to do was to find Kale, grab him, and run. She’d kill whoever got in the way. Not that she really wanted to. Looking at these soldiers, it was hard to feel anything but pity. And it wasn’t like any of these so-called warriors could really chase her down anyway. They were so starved they’d probably faint before they ran a hundred yards. But Kale’s safety was the matter at hand, and if these people presented a threat, she was ready to deal with them.

  The “Thought” returned, and made a dismissive gesture to the guard, who saluted, said the words, “May the Word protect you,” and then submissively disappeared through the front doors. The old man turned to River, offered a callous smile, and motioned for her to follow him. He proceeded down the hall, and she quickly stepped after him. River was a little surprised that after accompanying her all the way to the keep, the guard seemed to have lost interest in her. If they were willing to leave her alone with the old man, they clearly didn’t think of her as much of a threat. River couldn’t help feeling slightly insulted, even if their actions would probably make her escape easier.

  “Nice place,” River said sarcastically, noting the threadbare tapestries hanging on the wall, the rusted sconces, and the worn carpets on the floor. The interior of the castle appeared just as unkempt as the rest of the town. The lack of care and attention were evident in everything she’d seen so far. It was a miracle the town was still standing at all. River couldn’t help but wonder how long the townsfolk had been living like this.

  The Thought ignored her comment as he led her down the long hall, around a corner, and up a flight of stairs. On the second floor, they entered another long hallway. This time, things appeared more orderly. The black and red rugs that lined the floor showed some wear, but the patterns were bright and the fabric had only a few signs of patchwork. The sconces here were polished brass instead of rusted iron and the paintings and tapestries were, at least, well dusted. Even so, the cool air was heavy with the scent of mildew, and River doubted the rest of the castle would prove any better. They came to a tall wooden door, and the Thought knocked quietly.

  “Enter,” said a man’s voice beyond. The Thought pushed the door open and motioned for River to step inside. She did, and he immediately closed the door behind her.

  River found herself in a large, well-appointed room. The tapestries and curtains on the walls here were made of lush fabrics with deep, vibrant colors. Torches burned on the walls and a brass chandelier hung suspended from the ceiling in the middle of the room, casting off the light of dozens of red candles. A polished mahogany desk rested beneath the chandelier, and River noted several inkwells and a stack of yellowing parchment. Two chairs rested before the desk, both matching in quality and design, along with a sofa and several more chairs in the center of the room.

  “I would offer you wine, but I’m afraid we had no harvest last year.”

  River turned to see a figure standing in a nearby doorway. He was a tall, middle-aged man with black hair and beard, and raven-black eyes that sent a chill down her spine. He was dressed in long red and black robes, and moved with an air of authority that demanded respect.

  “You’re the Keeper?” she said.

  “Indeed. I am the Keeper of the Word. That is my title, but my name is Blaise Toolume. Here, you may call me by my name, but in public you must refer to me as Keeper or Keeper Toolume.”

  “My name is River. I’ve come here for my friend, a warrior who goes by the name of Kale.”

  “Ah, yes. I know of this man. Most unfortunate. It seems he broke several of our laws, not the least of which was the slaughter of our Ancients. The punishment for this crime is always death.”

  “Ancients?” said River, her eyes flashing as she remembered what Micah had told her. “You mean the horrible creatures I saw in the forest?”

  “You are a stranger here. As such, I will overlook your words, but I urge you to use more caution in the future. Among my people, it is a crime to blaspheme the Ancients.”

  “Blaspheme? But those creatures… they’re dead,” River said. “You must see that there’s something wrong with those things.”

  The Keeper set his jaw and fixed her with a dark gaze. “I suggest you heed my warning. You will not get another.”

  “Fine,” River said impatiently. “Then what of my friend? Can I see him now?”

  “You may, briefly, but I warn you do not try to free him. His companion escaped this morning. Perhaps you know him? A small man, like a child?”

  Silence hung between them, until the Keeper realized River wasn’t going to talk. “At any rate,” he continued, “Kale must now accept punishment on behalf of his companion as well. Such is the law among my people.”

  “Your law?” River said in an accusing tone.

  “God’s law, such as it has always been.” With that, he snapped his fingers and the door behind them instantly swung open. The Thought stood there, stooped over in the doorway. “Escort our guest to the prison,” the Keeper ordered. The Thought nodded and motioned for River to follow him. She had little choice but to comply.

  Chapter 11

  River found another guard waiting for her at the front of the keep. He was tall and clean shaven with dark hair, a feature which seemed to be very common in Blackstone. He was in his late thirties and, though his uniform was as tattered as the others’ were, it seemed somehow cleaner, as if perhaps he took a bit more pride in it than anyone else she had seen. The Thought communicated with the soldier through a series of hand signals, and then disappeared back into the shadows of the building. The guard nodded in her direction.

  “My name is Maru Toolume. I am commander of the city watch. I will be your guide while you remain in our town. The Thought has informed me that you wish to visit the prison?”

  “Yes,” River said. “You said your name is Toolume? Are you the Keeper’s son?”

  “No, he is my second cousin.”

  “It’s a small town,” River mused.

  “Indeed. Shall we?”

  She scanned the area, wondering just how many people lived there. It couldn’t have been more than a thousand. She wondered how long they had all been living like that, closed off to the outside world. It had been decades at least, perhaps even centuries. It occurred to her that malnutrition may not have been the sole cause of the health problems she saw around her. The people of Blackstone may have been breeding in a closed gene pool for too long. Even if they avoided marrying too close, as in the case of cousins, it was still possible for their isolated gene pool to cause certain problems. River had heard of such things before. She sighed as she joined the Commander on the
street. They began to walk.

  “Tell me about the tracks,” she said, nodding toward the rail tracks that ran through the center of town.

  “They belong to god. Once, he traveled back and forth on them, surveying the great forest. Now he only rests.”

  River cocked an eyebrow at that. The first thought that came to mind was that Maru was referring to a locomotive. That didn’t make sense, though. No one would mistake a locomotive engine for a god. Would they?

  “You’ve barricaded the walls,” she observed. “Is that to keep out the… the Ancients?”

  “Of course.”

  “But you worship the Ancients, don’t you? Why would you lock them out?”

  “The forest belongs to the Ancients. The town is for the living.”

  “I see. So you fear them?”

  Maru fixed his gaze on the street. “It would be blasphemy to say such a thing,” he said. “We must protect the Ancients. If we do not, then who will protect us when we join them?”

  River froze in her tracks. “Join the Ancients? Are you saying that you will become one of the Ancients?”

  “We all must, eventually. Is it not so in your land?”

  “No,” River said absently. “I’ve never seen… Ancients anywhere else. How does it happen?”

  “We die,” he said with a shrug. “And then we become Ancients. It is god’s will. So says the Keeper, and he should know. He keeps the Word.”

  “Of course he does,” River said absently.

  As they resumed their journey, River silently considered Maru’s statement. So many things about Blackstone didn’t make sense. The entire population was starving, and yet surrounded by a thriving forest, but they refused to hunt or farm the lands around the castle because they belonged to the dead, or as they called them, “Ancients.” Stranger still, the people worshipped these undead creatures, and apparently did so at the bidding of some other creature they called “god.” A creature that apparently once traveled on the railroad tracks. River couldn’t make any sense of it.

  Maru took River to one of the northerly towers, which was guarded by two men armed with swords. “Open it,” he said as they approached, and one of the guards pulled a key ring from his belt and unlocked the door. They stepped inside and River found herself in a broad, circular room filled with dusty old furniture.

  “This way,” said Maru. He led River up a flight of circular stairs, past several levels of the tower. Finally, near the top, they entered the prison. The commander pushed the door open and River winced as she stepped inside and noticed the chains and shackles hanging from the walls, and the torture devices scattered throughout the room.

  “River!” Kale called out. She glanced across the room and saw the burly warrior in one of the cages near the outside wall. His clothes were rumpled and his hair was a mess, but he seemed no worse for the wear.

  “You have five minutes,” Maru said. “I will wait here.” He closed the door and locked it, standing next to it as River crossed the room. As she did, she took note of everything. Not just the other occupants of the prison, but the layout of the cages and the other pieces of equipment. Anything in the room might prove to be a weapon or tool in the right hands. The trick was to become familiar with everything, and to do it all in a single glance.

  “Did Micah find you?” Kale said, latching onto the bars at the front of his cage as she approached him. River nodded ever so slightly, hoping the commander hadn’t heard the question. She didn’t want to give away any important information.

  “Socrates?” Kale said hopefully.

  Again, River nodded quietly. Before Kale could ask another incriminating question, she took control of the conversation. “How long have you been in here?”

  “Since last night. They arrested us for killing those-”

  “Ancients,” River interrupted.

  “What?”

  She quickly explained what she had learned about the Ancients, the Keeper, and their “god.” Kale and the others were only partially aware of the city’s practices. They knew nothing about the Keeper, the Word, or the Thought until she explained it to them. Or tried, at least. She still hadn’t quite grasped the logic that bound their belief system together, and therefore couldn’t communicate it very clearly. Then again, the soldier hadn’t been able to articulate it very well, either. Perhaps there was a reason for that.

  “We have to get out of here,” Kale said when she had finished. “These people are insane. They’re going to execute us.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Your friend will have a hearing today,” Thane said from the far corner. “Shayla and I have already been sentenced.” He stepped out of the corner and River looked him up and down. Thane smiled and offered a hand as he introduced himself.

  “I am Thane, bard of Avenston, and the woman over there is my companion, Shayla.”

  “River Tinkerman,” she said, accepting his handshake. River noted that Thane was a tall and vibrantly attractive man, but she found his refinement off-putting. He was good-looking but seemed somehow delicate. Such a thing might be said of many of the elfish Tal’mar men, but River had never seen that quality in a human before. It was strange.

  “When is the execution planned?” she asked.

  “The full moon,” said Thane. “It is their tradition. They will light a bonfire in the center of town and burn us as an offering to their clockwork god.”

  “Clockwork?”

  “Aye, the thing is some sort of a machine, but it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

  That at least, made sense. Perhaps the god truly was a locomotive or an old railcar. “And you say they’re going to burn you?”

  Thane nodded grimly. “Aye, so their god commanded.”

  River closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She felt the weight of her revolver on her hip and sensed the watch commander’s presence at the far end of the room. She didn’t necessarily have to kill him, just one shot to the leg or shoulder would be enough. He’d give up the keys without a fight. Then she could open the cages, and they could climb out the window. Devils, they could even walk out the front gate if they really wanted to. There wasn’t a true warrior in the entire town. They were all haggard, untried peasants. River doubted any one of them would stand up to Kale with his swords, and certainly not against River’s revolver.

  But something held her back. Perhaps it was her reluctance to draw innocent blood. After all, the guardsmen may have been coconspirators, but the truth was that they were just ignorant fools. Ignorant and superstitious. How else could she explain their worship of the undead creatures they called Ancients? And what about this god, this clockwork machine that Thane had referred to? River knew she could get Kale out of town and never look back, but she had to know the answers to the questions plaguing her.

  No, she wasn’t ready to leave just yet. Besides, she wasn’t about to abandon the boneshaker that she had spent so many weeks painstakingly recreating. She’d wait a while. Then, only if it was absolutely necessary, she would help Kale and the others escape. Hopefully, Socrates would find them before then. After all, Micah must have returned by now. All Socrates had to do was guide the Horse down the tracks and right into town.

  Chapter 12

  It was early evening when Maru returned to the tower. He was flanked by two guards wearing swords and helmets, and he carried a key ring in his right hand.

  “It is time,” was all he said, and that was all he needed to say. Kale had been waiting for this moment ever since River left. He’d begged her then to help him escape, but she wouldn’t hear of it. For some reason, River told him to be patient. That was ridiculous, of course. Patience was for card games, not for life and death situations. Unfortunately, River was the one on the outside, and therefore she was the one making the decisions. Kale had no choice but to go along with her plans, however ridiculous they might be.

  Kale glanced at Thane as the guards checked his shackles. The bard’s face was unreadable. When the guards we
re satisfied, they pushed Kale out of the cage and guided him towards the door.

  “May your ancestors watch over you,” Thane called out behind him.

  Kale glanced at Shayla as he passed her cell, and got his first glimpse of the woman up close. She was quite attractive, with olive skin and mysterious hazel eyes, and auburn hair that perfectly framed her face. Her lips were full, pouty, and surprisingly red, considering she hadn’t had access to face paints in at least a week. Her long, lightly curled hair swooped gently down over her shoulders to fall across ample breasts, and her tight leather bodice drew his eyes involuntarily to her thin figure.

  With some effort, Kale drew his gaze up to meet Shayla’s, and he saw a wicked smile curling up the corners of her lips. Somehow, Kale instinctively knew Shayla was trouble. Perhaps more trouble than everything else combined. Naturally, that only made her that much more intriguing. Kale immediately decided that not only was he not going to be executed, but he was also going to rescue her, and in doing so, earn her eternal gratitude.

  One of the guards ended these thoughts by rapping Kale on the back of the head with a sword pommel. Kale moaned and rubbed his head, and Shayla’s voice rang out in laughter. As the guard pushed him into the stairwell, Kale risked another thumping. He paused to look directly at her and in a low, devilish voice said, “I’ll be back, gorgeous.”

  “I’ll be waiting, hero,” Shayla said in a tantalizing voice.

  Kale disappeared into the hall and the guards slammed the door behind him. Kale and the guards disappeared down the stairwell, and the prison chamber went silent

  “I think that one likes you,” Thane said, grinning, staring at Shayla.

  “That’s what I get paid for,” she said. “To make ‘em like me. Though I must admit, I might let that one like me for free. The first time, at least.”

  Thane laughed aloud as Shayla smiled thoughtfully.

  Maru led Kale out of the tower and through the front entrance of the keep, where they found River waiting. She joined them as they passed through the set of tall wooden doors into the long, dimly lit courtroom. The grand hall was empty now, save for the row of unlit urns lined up near the end of the room, and the red velvet curtains that hung at the far wall. A few torches burned along the outside walls, making shadows leap and dance across the stone floor. A small crowd of gawkers followed after them, and fanned out across the back of the hall.