Steel Dominance

by Cari Silverwood

  She hovered nearby after Tansu returned from her morning bathe. Should she tell her?

  “What is it?” Tansu looked up from the bracelet she’d slipped on. “Could you do this up for me?”

  “Of course.” Keying the tiny tongue of silver into the slot was a welcome distraction. She held her tongue tip between her teeth as she concentrated.

  “You’re so cute when you do that.”

  Sofia frowned. “Hmm. I’m not sure I want to be called cute.” The plaintive sigh from Tansu made her pause. She lifted her head. Lying was just not her. She couldn’t do this. “I’m sorry, I know you…”

  “Shh. I understand. You are Dankyo’s, not mine. I’m not a flower, and this is but an infatuation of mine.” She pulled her hand away. “I will survive.”

  The nonchalant angle of Tansu’s eyebrow seemed dismissive, yet tempting. An undercurrent simmered; her eyes were bright. If I touch her, if I run a finger down her arm, I think she’d kiss me.

  She stepped back and smiled weakly.

  The inclination to tell her about the waning of her period had passed. What would be the use? But please, another day, two…

  When Tansu left to go to the Clockwork Warrior, for the first time in years, Sofia wanted to pray. Had to, whether she believed or not. With a thump, she went to her knees on the rug beside the gold-and-white divan. The blue pattern of the rug blurred.

  Someone knocked at the door.

  “Yes? Come in,” she said, barely loud enough to be heard.

  One of the younger women of the harem entered in a swirl and swish of green silk, then stood before Sofia and bowed her head. “Excuse me. The harem mistress has called you to her.”

  “Thank you.” Why? Only the one possibility leaped at her. They’d been counting the days too.

  When the door shut with a muted thud, she stared at her fingers. They were white and blotchy red where she’d laced them together. They hurt.

  In a small room bare of anything except a padded table and a chair, the harem mistress examined her, then brusquely declared her ready for the emperor-bey in one day.

  This can’t be. Why is everything going wrong? Even if Dankyo comes, it may not be soon enough. The honeyed timber shutter of her room door was before her. She remembered nothing of the walk back.

  She entered, went to the desk, sat, and dragged the book over. Maybe she’d missed something? Methodically she ran through the verses again. One by one, her fingernail scored a line down each page. What have I missed?

  Why should this hold the answer? It was just some crazy poetic monument to some long-gone warrior in a battle. She was nothing but a university researcher lost in a cesspit of intrigue and hatred, and she really had no idea what she was doing. She perched her elbow on the leather blotter and softly hit her forehead with her palm, over and over.

  Concentrating was impossible. Her thoughts were a stew of other clues and possibilities.

  Last night Tansu had seemed unsettled, then at breakfast her hands had trembled, and she’d vomited afterward. Was she merely ill? And how had she convinced the guards to let her visit the Clockwork Warrior, and look the other way?

  The letters on the page she’d been reading were an unfocused mess of black.

  Had Tansu dared to offer herself to a guard—and would they dare to sleep with one of the women of the harem?

  She shook her head and murmured, “I hope you didn’t do that.”

  It made her wonder what became of a slave if she became pregnant to a guard? Concealing pregnancy, here, would be impossible surely? Especially since Tansu had not been called to the emperor-bey’s bed for months. What would be the penalty for getting pregnant to a guard? Execution?

  All this pondering led her to a ridiculous thought. What would it be like to bear Dankyo’s child? To hold a child of theirs, of his, in her arms… Tears filled her eyes. Both a longing and a deep sadness filled her. She lifted her head and stared at the slim window. She might never know.

  “Stupid.” She sighed and went back to her reading.

  When Tansu returned, Sofia held her breath and waited for the door to click shut. “Anything?”

  “No. Nothing. Nothing grows. I’m sorry.”

  “I see.” Time had run out. Tomorrow the emperor-bey wanted her. She exhaled, squeezed her eyes shut. Cloth whispered as Tansu walked over and knelt beside the chair.

  “What is it, my Sofia?” Tansu’s warm hand covered hers and stilled her twisting fingers. “Tell me.”

  “My period is finished.” She looked at Tansu. Such concern showed in the tiny frown lines and the tension in her mouth. “The emperor-bey will see me tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” The flinch aside of Tansu’s gaze was only for a second. She patted Sofia’s hand. “This will not kill you. You must remember it is only sex, and I know you’ve done this before. Life will go on.”

  The right words didn’t come. There seemed none. “Yes. I suppose it will.”

  “Be strong, Sofia.”

  Being strong didn’t seem to be an option. What would Dankyo tell her if he were here? Would he pat her and say, be strong? She didn’t think so. But then Tansu had lived with this for much of her adult life. The prospect of being here forever chilled Sofia to the bone.

  But Dankyo is coming. Doubts crammed into her head. This was not exactly the easiest place to assail or infiltrate. What if he fails?

  Tansu still patted her hand.

  “I don’t know that I can do that. I just…” Sofia’s voice hitched. The patting stopped. “I’ll try. But I just don’t know.”

  “Sofia, don’t you suicide!” The fierceness in Tansu’s voice rattled her, as did the terrible frown and the paleness of her face. “I won’t have that. I won’t. Others have done that.”

  I didn’t say suicide. “I won’t.” What had happened to those others that suicide had been their best option? “No. I’d rather try to climb the walls, or dive into that waterfall. There’s a chance of survival.”

  If anything Tansu went whiter. “No. No. You mustn’t. Please. I’ll think of something else.”

  Though she nodded, the idea had been planted. If Dankyo doesn’t arrive, the waterfall. Yes. She leaned over and hugged Tansu, whispered, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Just be good. Don’t try to leave me, not like that.”

  “I’m sorry I upset you.”

  But Tansu simply nodded and breathed into her shoulder. Though her breath warmed Sofia, the trembles alarmed her. What was this? Tansu was always the levelheaded one.

  Tansu pulled away. “I have something to tell you.” Her brown eyes fastened onto Sofia.

  “Oh?”

  “I didn’t say this, because it’s not…good. Not exactly. They say that Dankyo has been captured by the Ottomans. The emperor-bey has bargained for him, and he is being brought here—tomorrow or the next day.”

  The world halted and waited, teetering, on the very precipice. He’s really alive. Relief sank in, like the first stone on a path to solid ground. How mad am I? He’s a prisoner, and yet…alive.

  “They say that is certain.” She shrugged. “But, I also heard a rumor that perhaps it is a ruse. That he comes to rescue you.”

  “Oh. Now that is better.” The room swayed. Sofia breathed again. “But you don’t know for sure which is true?” Please, please, please, let it be the second, but…how does she know all this?

  “No. I don’t.” She took Sofia’s hands in hers. “However I believe the second is more likely. Do not give up hope.”

  “Of course not. I won’t.” Questions swam round and round in her mind. How could he rescue her if he came as a prisoner? How did Tansu learn all this? How much could a harem slave know about the outside world? Did she have a guard on a leash? How?

  The most devastating question of all arrived in her head and jumped up and down screaming for attention. If she knows this, then what is the likelihood that Xiang or the emperor-bey knows?

  “How did you find all this out? Cou
ld the emperor-bey know this too? Or Xiang?”

  “Not all, no. I can’t tell you why. Please, the person who told me risks death.” Tansu stood, flicked her loose mane of jet black hair behind her, and proceeded to wind it into a long tail, then into a bun that she knotted on itself. The way she concentrated on her task meant her eyes didn’t meet Sofia’s.

  “I see. Then you mustn’t say.” Still, she wondered. So convenient. But, Tansu is my one ally.

  Without looking, while tucking in the last strands of hair, Tansu spoke quietly. “You don’t trust me anymore, do you?”

  The voicing of her thoughts left Sofia speechless. She didn’t want to lie. Not anymore. So she said nothing.

  “I see.” Tansu walked away into their sitting room.

  Oh God. She put her head in her hands and rubbed her temples. Can I trust no one? Be strong—how I need that now. Dankyo is coming, but perhaps as a captive. Tansu…I don’t know what she is up to. And me, I’m the emperor-bey’s next appetizer.

  What do I do? Summon a magical demon army?

  Later that night, after a meal that Sofia had barely eaten a spoonful of, Tansu latched on to Sofia’s arm, and despite her protests, drew her to the bed, and made her sit. She knelt at Sofia’s feet, then put her hands before her face as if about to pray.

  “I’m sorry.” Tansu looked up, worry lines etched on her forehead. “Forgive me.”

  “Forgive you?” Perplexed, she watched as Tansu held out a vial.

  “You were right not to trust me. This is yours. This is what grew from beneath the silver grille.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Sofia held it up to the light. The vial held something brown and bubbly. She uncorked it, sniffed. I’m supposed to eat…drink this? Just the thought made her ill.

  “Why? Why didn’t you show me this?”

  The crease on Tansu’s forehead deepened. “I was worried you might become sick from this. I did.”

  She lowered the vial. “That’s all? You ate some, didn’t you? We could have talked.”

  “Could we? You would have done it anyway.”

  “Yes. I would have.” She searched Tansu’s face, looking for something else, as if there had to be more. Living in the palace had made her suspicious. “You know how important this is.”

  “Do I? Do you? This did nothing to me except make me ill. You might kill yourself if you drink it. Then what would Dankyo rescue? Your corpse?” Bitterness oozed from her words, perhaps even anger. “How do you know what you think the book says is true?”

  “I know clues, puzzles. I’m right. And look at how the Clockwork Warrior changed without a single thing going wrong, after all these centuries. Whoever did that was a great inventor who knew clockwork back to front.”

  “But, Sofia, you are not clockwork, and that”—she pointed at the vial—“is not clockwork either.”

  Yet they planned this so well. This must be right.

  “Then why did you give this to me?”

  “I wanted some…honesty between us. And perhaps, there is some secret to be discovered? But I don’t quite believe that. And I’m regretting it now.”

  “Really?” Before she could change her mind, Sofia swigged back the contents. The stuff slid over her tongue and down her throat like a putrid oyster. She grimaced. “Yuk.”

  The ghastly look on Tansu’s face made her feel even worse.

  “Sofia!”

  “Shush.” She waved the vial. “Don’t.”

  Tansu sat back on her heels. “Well, then. It’s done. It was hours before it made me feel ill. But if you feel anything, tell me.”

  Itchy prickles spread inside her throat and down into her stomach. Cold, so cold. This was like ice crackling across a lake—stilling the run of the water, the ripples, making everything…wait.

  “I have to lie down.” The pillow cradled her head. Blood throbbed. Thud thud, thud thud.

  “Sofia? Sofia!”

  She closed her eyes. Blackness rolled in like fog.

  Tansu’s voice came softly through the darkness. “Oh, Sofia. What have you done to yourself?”

  She smiled and drifted lower, deeper.

  “Forgive me, my dearest one. Forgive me for what I’ve done.”

  What did she mean? Forgive her?

  Words streamed away into nothingness.

  Sounds and waves of light fumbled and danced through her mind, flaring louder, trickling gently as a tiptoeing mouse. The click and purr of little wheels and golden springs, of diamond pinheads and brass gyroscopes, rattled about here and there, assembling themselves into monstrous mechanicals that rose and towered above before they abruptly crumbled back to piles of metal and dust. Then the metal dust gathered again and rose to become strange creations and fell.

  Something rested on her, and she put her hand up and found a creature sitting on her chest.

  “Zigzag,” she murmured, hearing her words echo. He’d come back. The puttering of his clockwork heart ticked away time, cutting it up into little bite-size pieces, reassuring her. All was well. Tick tick, tock tock.

  She floated off again, knowing she was guarded by a friend. Tansu wouldn’t get her now…the traitoress.

  The metal creations and the seas of clockwork swelled and receded, again and again. Every time she awakened a little, she listened. Sometimes Zigzag was there and sometimes not. The little devil played games with her, hide and seek, like he loved to.

  She’d catch him and tie him down and turn him into springs if he wasn’t very, very careful. Springs and cogwheels. Yes. Springs…and cogwheels.

  * * * *

  “Sofia. Sofia.”

  Someone rocked her, shaking her by the shoulder. She opened her eyes and saw a blurred face. Tansu. “You. What did you do?”

  “You must get up and get bathed and dressed. They are taking us to the Garden of Audiences.”

  The bleak set-in-concrete look on Tansu’s face made Sofia lick her lips and swallow.

  “Why?”

  “They are bringing in Dankyo, as a prisoner of the Ottoman.”

  The journey through the harem and to the garden went by in a stumbling sea of dizziness. The surroundings shimmered in and out. All her senses seemed jumbled, and she felt pain when she heard sounds, smelled lemons when the sun blinded her. Spots danced across the pathway they walked on. And somewhere, in the back of her mind, things ticked and clicked and spun. The nausea in her stomach surged back and forth.

  Dankyo is here. She clung to the notion that he knew what he was doing, that some devious plan had been set in motion.

  Zigzag is out there too. I’m sure of it. And…how do I know that? Am I going mad?

  By the time they reached the Garden of Audiences, her thoughts were settling. She knelt beside the throne in a line with Tansu and two other women. All of them wore little more than silver flower chains wrapped around their breasts and upper bodies. Their wisp-fine skirts flooded onto the flagstones in a circle about their legs like small lakes of cloth.

  “For you.” Grinning, a guard stalked over with gold chains and collars hanging from his hand.

  He clicked a collar onto each woman, then hooked the key to a collection on his belt. The keys danced and clinked against each other.

  The chains connected the collars. Sofia put her hand to her neck.

  “Uh-uh.” The guard crouched and slapped her once on the cheek, stinging her, making her gasp, rocking her head to the side. “Behave.”

  She lowered her hand. The pain radiated. He went back to his position as if he’d done nothing more significant than pick some food from his teeth.

  I’m a piece of nothing to these men. She’d never felt so trampled on as she did now. I had the world at my feet, and now I’ve been spit out and made into a thing.

  Tansu was to her right.

  Deceit seemed to exude from the woman, like the trail of a slug. Why did she think Tansu had betrayed her? Odd. Had something had happened while she slept?

  Everything hazed.
>
  The locks…the locks were clockwork. She cocked her head and listened to the ratchets on the cogs whirring. Such a pretty sound.

  Even her hands and fingers seemed to hold little bloodred clockwork spheres. She saw them tumbling in the tubes inside her body, all red. Spin and they’d go one way…then reverse and spin the other way. Little clocks. She stared at the tendons on the backs of her hands where they rested on her thighs. Where were these weird images coming from?

  “Sanjakbey Zagan of the Ottoman!” The cry carried from a man at the head of the steps leading to the lower garden.

  At first she could only see their heads as a party of three men walked up the steps. But one of them was Dankyo—collared and bound with his hands before him. His broad chest was naked, but he wore simple dark trousers. His thick, muscled shoulders were etched with shadows and light. Red lines crisscrossed his torso. Only one line showed the brightness of blood. These must be the scars of Xiang’s punishment—almost healed after only a few days.

  Sofia shivered. He was here, and a prisoner. Whatever secrets the Clockwork Warrior’s potion might reveal, they were too late. Already Xiang advanced toward him, with four guards flanking her. Their bared sabers seemed to have drunk of the sun for it ran in liquid shimmers up and down the blades.

  “You will not escape this time.” Xiang’s threat was as hard and certain as a nail in a coffin. “You will lie before me and beg for your life so that I may laugh. Or maybe I’ll just kick you a lot after I cut off your balls and hamstring you. Either will make me happy.”

  The emperor-bey chuckled. “This should be amusing.”

  Tears overflowed and wet Sofia’s cheeks. What can I do? I’m fastened here.

  Then she saw the set defiance on Dankyo’s face flicker. He’d glanced at her through the gaps between the guards. And his hand shifted. Be ready.

  Hope rippled in.

  She quivered, fingernails digging into her legs. Her muscles trembled. There would be another command. This was what the message meant. Her gaze locked on him, and she desperately tried to keep him in view. But Xiang blocked her—Xiang and the long sword she’d seen so many times in the clockwork gardens being used to perform the sword katas and kill rats.