“We have to leave and come back,” she said firmly. “With more tools and lots of help.”
“The Gontas and Zalizniaks aren’t exactly a family, strictly speaking, strictly speaking,” Harry said. “They are a… collection, really.”
“Collection,” Gavin said. “What does that mean?”
Harry puffed on his cigar and cast a sidelong look at Alice. They were talking in what was euphemistically referred to as the Black Tent, though it was neither black nor a tent. It was actually a boxcar outfitted as a laboratory, with tools hanging on the walls, a portable forge heating up one corner, and half-finished machines littering the tables that lined the walls. It belonged to Dodd, who wasn’t a clockworker but who did have enough of a facility with machines to repair or even build basic clockwork designs, though nothing on the level that Alice could do. It was here that he had tinkered together the windup toys for Gavin and Tom when they were children, visiting the circus with Captain Naismith. The place smelled of machine oil, bitter coal smoke, and metal shavings, and made Gavin think of a time when he was still learning his way around an airship. Dodd called it the Black Tent because the work area had once been a blacksmith’s tent. When the circus became wealthy enough, Dodd had bought a boxcar for everything, but the original name had stuck.
Gavin was feeling restless again, and as happened on the train in Dodd’s car when he guarded Alice’s sleep, his hands went to work without him. A spool of Dr. Clef’s alloy sat in his lap. He wound more of it and snipped rings free of the dowel. He had quite a collection now.
Harry continued to hesitate. Finally Alice spoke up. “If you’re worrying about offending my delicate sensibilities, Mr. Burks, please stop. We don’t have time for nonsense. You must speak plainly.”
The rotund man moved his cigar to the other side of his mouth. “Very well, very well.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know how much Ukrainian history you know—”
“Maksym Zalizniak was a Cossack who rose up at an outbreak of the clockwork plague,” Alice said crisply. “He used Ivan Gonta and other powerful clockworkers to construct machines of war that forced out the Russians and the Poles—and then the Jews and the Catholics—so they could take back Ukraine and form their own empire. Get on with it.”
“Yes, well,” Harry said, “it didn’t stop there, of course. The Zalizniak clan took the left bank, or western half, of Kiev and Ukraine, while the Gonta clan took the right, or east. At first they got along very well, but things devolved very quickly, very quickly. Cossacks fight as a way of life, you see, and once they didn’t have the Russians and Poles to kick around anymore, they turned inward. The two clans bickered and sniped and fought all the time, all the time, their clockworkers ran rampant, and the people of Kiev were caught in the middle. They especially fought over the dam—and the power it generates.”
“But the house we saw had the two Cyrillic letters in the gate,” Gavin said. “A g and a z. They seem to be getting along fine now.”
“That’s the mystery,” Harry said. “Clockworkers don’t cooperate. Fifty or sixty years ago, the Gontas smashed the Zalizniaks flat, but instead of killing their rivals, they merged with them. How, no one knows, no one knows. Now, instead of having two collective families, they have just one, just one.”
“How do you get a family of clockworkers?” Alice said. “They don’t… they can’t…”
Gavin held his face impassive over the growing net of rings. He knew very well what Alice was trying not to say, that clockworkers, including him, died within three years of contracting the plague. Family relationships were cut unfortunately short. A sudden longing to see his own children filled him, made all the worse for the fact that he knew it could never come to pass, and he had to turn his face away for a moment to get himself under control. China. China would have the cure, if only they could get there.
“That’s the delicate part.” Harry coughed and reddened. “You see, the Gonta-Zalizniaks operate on a process of… assimilation.”
“I don’t understand,” Alice said.
“Nor should you, nor should you. The clans use a sort of forced adoption, you see. Any clockworker who appears in Ukraine is quickly snapped up by the Gonta-Zalizniaks and indoctrinated. I hear that by the time the process is over, they truly believe they are Gonta or Zalizniak.” He coughed around his cigar. “They also engage in experiments on… younger folk. There’s a belief that children are more likely to survive the plague and become clockworkers, so…”
Alice’s face paled and she staggered back against one of the tables. “You mean they deliberately infect children with the clockwork plague in an attempt to create more clockwork geniuses?”
Harry looked unhappy. “It’s only rumor, only rumor,” he said quickly. “People are always looking for explanations about why Kiev seems to have more clockworkers than a city its size should.”
“Numbers,” Gavin put in, though he was speaking through greasy nausea. “If you think about it for a moment, you’ll realize that somewhere has to have the highest percentage of clockworkers. Kiev is simply it.”
“Of course, of course.” Harry chewed his cigar. “It’s a difficult rumor to unseat, however, when it couples with the fact that the plague got its start here.”
“Is rumored to have gotten its start here,” Alice corrected. “No one knows where the plague started. Kiev just has the first recorded cases. The eighteenth century kept very poor records, unlike modern times.”
“This isn’t getting us any closer to Feng,” Gavin interrupted. He wound more wire around the dowel and snipped. “What is Ivana going to do with him?”
“Who knows?” Harry sighed. “He’s not a clockworker, so he won’t be indoctrinated. Clockworkers have free rein here with anyone they capture, and Ivana Gonta can do as she wishes with him. Kievites have been forced to become adept at avoiding clockworkers, so there’s a shortage of subjects these days. I hate to sound harsh, but she’s likely experimenting on him right now.”
A silence fell over the trio. In the distance, the calliope hooted a cheery song in B-flat, keeping time for one of the acts rehearsing in the Tilt. An idea stole over Gavin.
“How many clockworkers are in that house?” he asked. His fingers moved faster with wire and pliers, creating what looked like a framework of chain mail. He was adding to what already existed, which was currently the size of an evening cloak. On the floor nearby sat a framework and pack and machine parts that awaited assembly.
“No idea, no idea,” Harry said. “Could be two, could be two hundred. And all of them made to specialize in instruments of war. I’ve said it before—it’s a pity they don’t turn their efforts toward a cure for the plague. They might have found one by now. At any rate, the place is a fortress guarded by bloodthirsty lunatics. I don’t like to say it, but I think your friend is gone. Gone.”
“No,” Gavin said. “Maybe not.”
“What are you thinking, darling?” Alice asked. The note of hope in her voice pulled Gavin’s spirits up and gave him more confidence. He set down the growing net of links.
“I think we need to go see Dr. Clef.”
Dr. Clef was working in the little laboratory aboard the Lady with Click watching intently from a perch on a high shelf. He looked up in surprise when Gavin slid the door open. Alice and Harry stood in the hallway behind him.
“Yes?” said Dr. Clef slowly. He was sitting on a high stool.
“I don’t have time for nice,” Gavin said. “I need my paradox generator back.”
Dr. Clef blinked at him. “Generator? What generator, my boy?”
“I know you didn’t destroy it like I asked you to,” Gavin continued. “It was too beautiful for me to destroy, so how could you do it? If I hadn’t been distracted at the time, I would have realized it earlier. Give it back. Now.”
“I don’t have it.” Dr. Clef’s expression remained perfectly ingenuous. “Honestly, I don’t.”
“Like I said,” Gavin told him, “no time for ni
ce. So.” He reached up and took Click down from the high shelf. The clockwork cat looked at him with curious phosphorescent eyes until Gavin flipped him over and lightly depressed a switch on the underside of Click’s throat. Click froze.
“Gavin, what on earth?” Alice demanded.
“No!” Dr. Clef said.
“Hand over the generator, Doctor,” Gavin said, “or I’ll press it all the way. All the power in his spring will release at once, and he’ll shut down.”
Dr. Clef looked horrified. “Not my clicky kitty. Please!”
“The generator, Doctor.”
A torn expression crossed Dr. Clef’s face. He looked at Click and at Gavin, then flicked his gaze to a low storage cupboard. Alice edged around him and from the cupboard pulled the generator, complete with its crank and speaking trumpet.
“I’ll need the ear protectors, too,” Gavin said, and Alice snagged them from their hook. Dr. Clef appeared crestfallen, so Gavin handed Click to him. The cat recovered quickly and shook his head. Dr. Clef smoothed the creature’s wiry whiskers.
“You wouldn’t have done it,” Dr. Clef said, sounding like a recalcitrant child.
“It wouldn’t have hurt him, Doctor,” Alice said. “Though it would have taken an hour or more to wind him back up. And I might remind you that Click is my cat.”
“That is not how he feels.” Dr. Clef tickled Click under the chin. “No, he does not, he does not.”
“As you like.” Alice sighed. “We have to rescue Feng. Do you want to come?”
Dr. Clef looked genuinely puzzled. “Who is Feng?”
“Chinese man, little younger than me, so high,” Gavin said. “Likes the ladies. And the—”
“Gavin!” Alice interrupted.
“I do not remember him.” Dr. Clef cuddled Click. “Please leave me alone now.”
“If that’s what you want,” Gavin said. “Right now we have to collect Kemp and find Dodd.”
The first show of the day was just finishing up in the Tilt. A sell-out audience of all ages applauded and cheered from crowded bleachers while the Mysterious Yins, clad in red, went through their routine in the ring. Gavin thought of Feng and tried not to feel sick. Maybe Ivana was just holding him for now and hadn’t started in on him yet. He tried not to think of Feng clamped to an operating table with Ivana Gonta looming over him, tools at the ready, but worry and guilt continued to gnaw at him. This was taking so long.
A roped-off section down in front kept a group of dignitaries and their families and attendant automaton servants separated from the rabble. Many of the men wore red military uniforms and carried wicked-looking dress swords, and the women wore rich dresses in bright blues and blood reds, with heavy brocaded skirts and fur jackets. Even the children were carefully outfitted. More than one little girl carried a clockwork doll. And then it slapped Gavin in the face. This was what had been bothering him since he had arrived in Kiev: These were the first children he had seen in public. In all the crowds he had seen in the city, every person had been an adult. No children walked with their parents, none played in streets or alleyways. Except for the wealthy ones Gavin had just noticed, none attended this very circus. The only children Gavin had seen were among the families Alice had cured and zombies on the night streets. He thought of Ivana Gonta and her chocolate. Did all of Kiev keep their children indoors?
Three Yins boosted high poles upright while three others leaped from one to the other with the agility of lemurs. The audience applauded again. Off to one side waited the clowns, ready to gently shoo the audience away once this act was done. Gavin, Alice, and Kemp slipped behind the bleachers to the place where Dodd waited between acts and found him. He wore his usual red-and-white striped shirt and red top hat.
“He’s not going to like this,” Alice said in Gavin’s ear. “How are you going to persuade him to take a circus parade to the Gonta House?”
“The Gonta House?” Kemp said. “That would be dreadfully dangerous, Madam!”
“I don’t know how,” Gavin admitted. “I’m flying blind.”
Dodd saw them approaching and gave them a quizzical look.
“We need to talk,” Gavin said quietly. “I’m not—”
“Can it wait?” Dodd interrupted. “We’re all about to be very busy.”
“Busy?” Gavin said. The audience laughed at the antics of the youngest Yin. “I thought the show was almost over.”
“This arrived halfway through the second act.”
He showed Gavin a letter. In neat handwriting with a strange slant was written:
Come with circus to Gonta House for private performance immediately. Bring magnificent elephant.
Gonta
“Oh,” Gavin said.
“It came with a bag of money,” Dodd added. “Linda spouted some nonsense about the three of swords, but for that much money, I’ll face the hundred of swords. We leave in ten minutes.”
“Might Gavin and I ride the elephant?” asked Alice.
The elephant lumbered down the gritty, twisting streets at the head of another parade. Dodd, never one to give up the chance for publicity, insisted on a show. They had even installed a gaudy brass gondola atop the elephant. Normally Gavin would have enjoyed the experience—he was riding atop the elephant at the head of a parade with Alice next to him—but all he could think about was Feng.
Somewhat over a year ago, before the Third Ward, before the clockwork plague, before Alice, Gavin had been busking in London’s Hyde Park. A young man from the Orient—Feng—had rushed out of the fog and begged Gavin to help him. Gavin hid Feng and persuaded the young man’s pursuers that Feng had gone off in another direction. In gratitude, Feng gave Gavin the clockwork nightingale that re-created sounds. Much later, Gavin learned that Feng was the son of the Chinese ambassador to England and nephew of the emperor. When the ambassador discovered Gavin and Alice were fleeing to China, he asked them to take Feng along, since Feng clearly wasn’t suited to carry on his father’s career. Since none of them spoke a Chinese language, it seemed a good idea to bring him along. Besides, Gavin liked Feng. He was funny, and had a wistful air about him. It was only lately that he’d become surly, for reasons Gavin didn’t understand. Maybe something was bothering him, something more than just being housed among acrobats. He should have spoken up.
But did you ask? Gavin thought. Some friend you turned out to be.
“I still think this seems terribly fortuitous,” Alice complained. “Much too fortuitous.”
“Why can’t we have a piece of good luck for once?” Gavin countered, then added, “Don’t answer that. I agree with you, actually, though Ivana Gonta did say last night that she had guests to entertain and she wanted to see the elephant. It’s not that much of a coincidence. Maybe we actually are lucky. Those particles Charlie mentioned flipping at the same time to help us.”
“Hm,” was Alice’s only response.
He shifted the pack on his back and checked his wristbands for the fifth or sixth time. Alice’s parasol, newly repaired, gleamed as she waved it at the people crowding the sidewalk. A whistle dangled from a silver chain around her neck. Calliope music tootled behind them, drawing along stilt walkers, acrobats, horse acts, and animal cages. The parade scribbled a stream of bright colors through the gray city to the wide courtyard Gavin remembered from the previous night. By now it was noon, and Feng had been in Ivana Gonta’s clutches for twelve hours.
Hang on, Feng, Gavin thought. We’re coming.
The automaton guard flung the gates open and Alice guided the puffing elephant through. Its brass back was warm, almost hot, from the boilers contained inside it. Beyond the gate lay another wide courtyard, again all cobbles and stone. The blocky white mansion bent itself in a square C to make the courtyard. It reminded Gavin uncomfortably of a prison, and he remembered that the Gontas built the place at least partly in defense against the Zalizniaks across the river. An impressive set of steps rose up to a columned portico. At the base of the steps looking out over the court
yard were a series of long tables all set with fine linen, gleaming silver, and faceted crystal. A crowd of people dressed even more richly than the dignitaries at the circus occupied benches and divans and chairs placed all about the tables, and they were laughing and talking. Food—roast pork and hams and birds and fruits and dumplings and potatoes and soups—crowded serving platters, and the mingled delicious smells made Gavin dizzy. His stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Automatons of many shapes bustled about. Human-shaped ones replaced food and refilled glasses of kvas and vodka. Spiders scampered about, cleaning up spills and delivering fresh napkins. Several clockwork cats similar to Click lounged among the dinner guests.
When the circus paraded through the gate, the dinner guests stared and pointed. A few clapped. Dodd trotted smartly to the forefront as Ivana Gonta emerged from the crowd to meet him. She wore a pink afternoon dress with a low neckline more suited to an indoor spring tea than an outdoor autumn banquet, but the chill in the air didn’t seem to bother her. A red haze settled over Gavin’s vision and he realized he was growling.
“If she’s up here,” Alice pointed out quietly, “it means she isn’t doing anything to Feng at the moment. Maybe she’s been busy arranging this little event and hasn’t had time to touch him.”
“I hope so,” Gavin said through clenched teeth. “For her sake.”
“We just need to wait until— Eep!” Alice whuffed her parasol open and twirled it, effectively blocking Gavin’s view of the banqueters. “Don’t look.”
“At what?” Gavin’s muscles tensed. The calliope continued to play. Some of the clowns waved and made faces at the banqueters while they waited for a signal from Dodd to begin. “What’s wrong? I can’t see a thing.”
The Impossible Cube Page 20
