The Impossible Cube

by Steven Harper

  She continued talking, half to herself. “I mean, it isn’t as if we did anything wrong. I honestly thought he’d get along better with people who spoke his own language.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “It may have been a little presumptuous to assume he’d be happy with a troop of Oriental acrobats just because he himself is from the Orient any more than I—we—might be happy socializing with any random person we met from England—or America.”

  “You may have a point.”

  She gave a heavy sigh as they walked. Their footsteps echoed down the eerie, empty street. “You don’t suppose the entire circus has been gossiping about us, have they? I mean, you don’t suppose everyone thinks we… that we’re…”

  “If they do, it doesn’t seem to bother them,” Gavin pointed out. “No one seems to mind Dodd and Nathan.”

  “I can’t quite get over that,” she said. “Two gentlemen, and everyone knows.”

  “Which part can’t you get over? The two gentlemen part or the everyone knows part?”

  “Well,” Alice amended, “I can’t say I can’t get over it. It’s not as if one never hears of such things. It’s just that one never discusses them.”

  “You seem fine discussing it with me,” Gavin pointed out.

  “Yes. It seems I can discuss any number of things with you, darling, and that’s one thing that makes you so special.” She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder as they walked. For a moment, it felt as if the entire city belonged to her and Gavin alone. Even the plague zombies seemed to have retreated. A number of thoughts were working their way across her mind, and with no one else about, she allowed herself freedom to express them. “I suppose I was rather self-centered. I know Feng feels disgraced and he’s nervous about facing his family again, and on top of it all, we—I—drag him all around these cities to visit plague victims and zombies.” She sighed again, feeling more and more guilty. “He said such awful things, though. Am I being womanish to feel bad about arguing with him?”

  “I don’t know what that means,” Gavin said. “All the women I know would sooner smack you than sorry you.”

  “What women?”

  “My ma, for one. She’d smack you cross-eyed if you mouthed and I don’t ever remember her apologizing, but speak against one of her kids and you were in for a world of trouble.”

  “Do you think I’ll ever get to meet her?” Alice asked.

  “I don’t know.” Gavin’s eyes grew sad. “I don’t know if I’ll ever—”

  “Don’t!” Alice cut off the rest of the sentence by squeezing his arm with her iron-clad hand. Her parasol knocked against her knee. “I’m being thoughtless again. We’ll see her; of course we’ll see her. She’ll have to be at the wedding.”

  Gavin halted. “Is that a proposal, Lady Michaels? Come to think of it, I never did actually propose to you, did I?”

  “Oh!” She colored. “Good heavens! I—I didn’t mean to—”

  “Yes, you did. You certainly did.”

  Alice floundered. The evening was turning out far more peculiar than she had imagined it might. The street seemed to skew sideways, and words spilled from her mouth in a dreadful torrent that she couldn’t seem to stop. “I didn’t mean to push you into anything, though I rather assumed that once we found a spare moment we would want to formalize our relationship, not that we’re particularly traditional people anymore, but my title and my upbringing both mean I was hoping for something more traditional, and even though we were in a church in Luxembourg we never even had a moment to ask Monsignor Adames if—”

  Gavin shushed her. “I’ll make it easy for you.” He got down on one knee on the cobblestones before her and swept off his cap. His new wristbands gleamed in the lamplight. Alice couldn’t help clapping a hand to her mouth, not sure if she wanted to laugh or burst into tears. The horrible businessman’s offer she had gotten from Norbert last year came inevitably into her mind. He had offered her an emerald ring over a delicate luncheon of poached salmon and champagne. Gavin, dear, gallant Gavin, knelt on grimy cobblestones in a foreign city that stank of oil and steam. She couldn’t imagine a more perfect proposal.

  “Alice, Lady Michaels,” he said, “will you—”

  And then he was gone.

  Alice stared in uncomprehending disbelief at the stones where he’d been kneeling. Gavin had simply disappeared. It wouldn’t register. What had—?

  A split-second later, the clank of metal brought her head around. An enormous ostrichlike bird, easily two stories tall, was rising above her. It had come out of the alley beside and a little behind her. The bird was made entirely of brass and iron, intricately wrought and jointed. Gears spun and pistons puffed as it moved. Its head, at the end of a long segmented neck, was actually a rounded cage half the height of a man. Gavin knelt inside it, looking as startled as Alice felt.

  “Good heavens!” she gasped.

  The huge bird stalked forward out of the alley, revealing its body and legs now. Brass feathers shone. On the creature’s broad back rode a plump woman in a pink evening gown. Blond ringlets more suitable for a young girl framed her face, and she wore opera gloves. A console before her sported levers and switches, and she worked them with idle skill. A gleaming collar made of copper encircled her throat.

  “Min!” she called. “Spaceeba!”

  A hunting clockworker. The city had been so quiet, they had let their guard down. Alice’s heart pounded, and she was already moving, running straight toward the ridiculously sized ostrich, outraged beyond sensibility, her parasol raised. The amber head shone like liquid gold.

  “Release him this instant!” she demanded.

  “Stay back!” Gavin shouted.

  The clockworker pulled a lever, and one bird wing fluttered downward. It caught Alice full across the chest and flung her backward. The air burst from her lungs. Red pain smashed her body and scored her arms as she tumbled over the pavement.

  “Alice!” Gavin yelled from the cage. “Shit.”

  Alice staggered to her feet as the bird started to turn away. The pain receded under anger and adrenaline as she scrambled upright, only barely managing not to tangle herself in her skirts. Her hat was gone, but she had kept her parasol. Before she could charge the bird again, from the alleyway darted half a dozen birds, smaller ones this time, perhaps twice the size of a cat. They swarmed about the larger bird’s feet, wings spread at Alice with menacing intent.

  Gavin put one of his wristbands through the bars, aimed, and pressed a button. A gleaming gear shot from its magnetic release and spun toward the clockworker. She yipped and twisted out of the way with startling agility. Even a woman of her bulk came equipped with plague-enhanced reflexes. The gear pinged harmlessly off the bird’s metal back.

  “What you do?” the woman called up to him in English. “Do not fight. I need the meat.”

  The smaller birds clacked their beaks at Alice and scratched long runnels in the stones with their claws. Their eyes glowed red. The spider on Alice’s arm glowed back as if in answer. She gave the amber handle of the parasol a deft twist. It ratcheted twice, and a high-pitched whine shrilled in her ears. The parasol handle shone blue. The birds lowered their heads, ready to charge, and Alice slapped the handle. A bolt of electricity cracked from the tip of the parasol to the first bird. It froze in place. Sparks spat from its eyes and beak, and ozone tanged in the air. The bird fizzled with a smell of hot metal, but the electric arc was already jumping to the next bird, creating a wicked electric rainbow in the air. The second bird sparked and collapsed, and the power connected to the third, and the fourth. The arc of dreadful lightning poured from parasol to bird to bird to bird. Alice’s hair stood out like leaves on a wild bush. The lightning arced to the fifth and sixth birds. They crackled and spat and half melted, beaks open in silent screams. Then the electricity abruptly ended. The parasol went heavy in Alice’s hands, and the birds tipped to the pavement with six identical thuds. A line of smoke trickled from the end of the weapon, and
Alice lowered it with shaky hands.

  “Now,” she said firmly, “you will let him go.”

  “Hodynnyk?” the clockworker said.

  “Was that an insult?” Alice demanded.

  “I think it means clock,” Gavin said. He aimed with the wristband again and fired another cog. This one struck a lever on the clockworker’s control panel and moved it. The cage holding Gavin abruptly opened from the bottom like a claw being released. Gavin, ready for this, kept hold of one bar and swung himself around to the giant bird’s neck, whereupon he skimmed downward until he could safely drop to the ground. The move was magnificent to watch, and Alice couldn’t help admiring it, despite the recent fight.

  “You are clockworkers,” the woman said, switching back to English. She clucked her tongue. “You might have said instead of destroying our little pets. There are ethics.”

  “Sure,” Gavin said. “And you might have asked before you snatched me up.”

  The woman shrugged and pointed to herself. “Ivana Gonta. We see you are from other country. Would you like chocolate?” A mechanical hand emerged from the control panel with a small foil box. It extended itself down to Alice, who took the box without thinking. “You take. Is very useful.”

  “Thank you,” she said automatically.

  “Is good, is good. Because you are new, we will not kill you for hunting in our part of town, all right?”

  “Oh,” Alice said. “Er…”

  “The Dnepro divides Kiev. The Gontas and Zalizniaks rule as one, but everyone knows we Gontas are superior, so the Gontas hunt on the much better right bank and the weaker Zalizniaks”—she spat—“have the left. You go hunt over there for when you need meat, not over here.”

  “Right,” Gavin said. “Good advice. Thanks.”

  “Is good, is good,” Ivana said again. “Circus is in town, you know. We have seen. Wonderful elephant. You must visit. Perhaps we will bring elephant to our house for private entertainment for important foreign guests.”

  “Oh, we shouldn’t… ,” Alice began.

  “No, no, not you.” Ivana waved a gloved hand. “You are not important. We are only telling you because tomorrow night we are busy with guests and perhaps you can hunt then without that we kill you. You go now. Keep chocolate. Very good for luring children.”

  The large bird turned and lumbered away into the city, its cage dangling open. The six little birds lay on the street like half-melted metal candles. Alice looked at the box in her hand, then abruptly tossed it away and scrubbed her hand against her skirt.

  “That was very strange,” Gavin said absently.

  “Do you truly think so?” Alice couldn’t keep the disgust out of her voice.

  “Definitely. Your parasol should have lasted much longer.” He took it from her and held it up to a streetlight with a critical air. The amber had turned black. “I’ll have to look at the design.”

  “Gavin!”

  “Eh? Oh! I’m sorry.” He handed her the parasol, straightened his clothes, adjusted the fiddle case, which was still fastened to his back, and went down on one knee. “Alice, Lady Michaels, will you marry—”

  “Oh, good heavens!” Alice was all set to be angry, but she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a window that the ever-present light had turned into a mirror. The sight of her wild hair and disheveled clothing and smoking parasol brought out a burst of laughter instead. It overcame her, and she laughed and laughed. Some baroness she was. An image of her late father’s probable reaction to the entire situation popped into her mind, and for a moment, she understood why Gavin laughed so hard on that awful day in the ringmaster’s travel car. The ridiculousness of the entire world was pointed in her direction, and helpless laughter was the only response. She nearly bent double under the onslaught. Gavin scrambled upright and put his arm around her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Per-perfectly,” she gasped. “Good heavens. Will you marry me, indeed!” And she laughed some more while the gargoyles and dead metal birds overhead looked on. “You’re a true rogue, Gavin Ennock. I don’t know how I ever let you go before.”

  Before Gavin could respond, a shot rang out from the direction Ivana Gonta’s bird had taken. A second shot followed. Alice’s laughter instantly ceased. Gavin’s eyes met hers with the same thought.

  “Feng,” they both said.

  Chapter Ten

  “We shouldn’t have let him go off on his own,” Alice panted as they ran. “Foolish in the extreme. What were thinking?”

  “Guilt later,” Gavin said. “Run now.”

  The twisting, narrow streets remained eerily silent and empty—except for plague zombies. They seemed to be everywhere, rooting through garbage bins, lurking in doorways, shying away from the lights on the main streets. Male and female, adult and child, Gavin noticed enough to populate a small village, and those were only the ones he saw. He had never seen so many plague zombies in his life. Alice was noticing them too, he could tell. She flexed her gauntlet as they hurried on, itching to stop and help them, but they didn’t dare. Not now. They had to keep running.

  The trouble was, they didn’t know exactly where they were running to. Gavin’s keen ears tracked the sound of the two shots to a general area perhaps six or seven blocks away, but when they arrived at the place, they found nothing but an empty street.

  “Here!” Alice plucked a pair of pistols from the pave stones as another plague zombie shuffled into shadow. The pistols were bent and broken. “Good heavens. What do—?”

  “Sh!” Gavin held up a hand, hoping, and for once the clockwork plague cooperated. It rushed through him, thinning the world, making it transparent. Scents of oil and carbon and phosphorous floated on the air as conspicuous as feathers. Bits and beams of light rushed in a trillion directions, bouncing and battering against one another, trying to make a pattern amid their own chaos. Vibrations small and thunderous moved stone and brick and air and water, pressing and moving and swirling the mix. He felt the steady thrum and thud of factory dynamos in the distance, sensed thousands of heartbeats from the people tending them, felt electricity flick and dance. Through it all, he heard a steady pattern, a click-clack, click-clack combined with the hiss and swoop of steam trapped in a metal tube. The bird.

  “This way,” he said, taking Alice’s hand. “Hurry!”

  They followed Gavin’s heightened hearing, tripping on curbs and stumbling on cobblestones because Gavin remained more intent on listening to directions than on watching where he was going. The neighborhood shifted from lower-class residential to a mercantile district, with signs in Cyrillic that hovered at the edge of Gavin’s understanding, and he became aware that if he stopped and studied them long enough, they would begin to make sense, but he didn’t stop. The click-clack, click-clack continued, growing louder. Ivana was taking her time, which allowed them to catch up. At last, puffing and sweating, they came to a street that ended in an enormous courtyard with a spurting fountain in the center. Beyond the fountain stood a high wall that surrounded an enormous mansion of white stone topped by yet more gargoyles and grotesques. An automaton in the curved armor and metal skirt of an old-fashioned Cossack warrior was opening a double-wide iron gate with a and a 3 wrought into the center to admit Ivana and her bird. The claw-cum-cage that made up the bird’s head was closed again, and inside it knelt a familiar figure: Feng Lung. His face was tight with fear. The sight stabbed Gavin with guilt. It was his fault Feng was in this mess. The thought jolted him out of the clockwork fugue. The world’s minutiae vanished, and he became abruptly aware of his body again. Pain and exhaustion crashed over him. His lungs and legs burned in equal parts.

  Alice tried to shout something at Ivana, but she was too out of breath to make more than a squeak. Gavin was equally at a loss.

  “Do… something… ,” Alice panted.

  Gavin aimed one of his wristbands at Ivana and triggered the polaretic magnetized pulsation device he had built only that afternoon. A gear shot from it
and flicked straight at Ivana, but they were well over twenty yards away, and by the time the gear crossed the intervening distance, the automaton had swung the iron gates shut and the gear bounced off the bars. Ivana never even noticed. The automaton went to a guard box just inside the gates and stopped moving.

  Alice managed a final run up to the gates with her parasol, her loose hair streaming out behind her. For an insane moment, Gavin thought of Joan of Arc attacking an English castle. She reached the gates, grabbed one of the bars with her gauntleted hand, and jumped back with a yelp. Gavin summoned the strength to hurry over.

  “An electric field?” he asked.

  “I believe so.” She shook out her hand. “Godd— Good heavens, Gavin. It’s our fault. If we hadn’t argued with Feng, he would have stayed with us and… Oh, I don’t know what to do.”

  “Peasants do not approach the gate,” the automaton said, coming out of its box. “Peasants go to the rear for deliveries. Remove yourselves!”

  Gavin stepped back, partly in surprise and partly to avoid brushing against the electrified gate. “It speaks English?”

  “I speak a number of languages, peasant!” said the automaton. “Go around to the back!”

  “Who is Ivana Gonta?” Alice asked.

  “One of several members of the Gonta-Zalizniak collective family. Do you have a delivery for her?”

  “Yes.” She held up her parasol. “Special order.”

  “Go around to the back and wait for a proper hour. Your package will be admitted. You will not.”

  “It’s not going to let us in,” Gavin murmured. “Can we get over, do you think?”

  They both eyed the wall. It was at least eighteen feet high, studded with gargoyles, and likely contained a number of nasty surprises. All they had with them was a broken electrical parasol, a spider gauntlet that cured plague, a glass cutlass, and a set of wristbands Gavin had tested only sporadically. Although the parasol had proven marvelously effective, they had still severely underestimated the power of the local clockworkers. Meanwhile, Feng was inside the place, enduring heaven only knew what. Gavin thought of Charlie’s bare brain and his hands chilled at the thought of his friend Feng in the hands of someone with the intelligence to perform such a procedure and who referred to human beings as meat. He wanted to find a way to storm the gates, flatten the automaton guard, and force Ivana to release Feng, but he couldn’t think of a way to accomplish any of it. He turned helplessly to Alice. She set her mouth.