Amber Sky (C.O.I.L.S Of Copper and Brass Book 1)

by Claire Warner

  “Hmm.” A disbelieving snort left Tay’s lips as they covered the space to the door in several short strides. They entered the main sitting area, and Tay stared about the room with longing. If she could spend the rest of the night in this room, she would.

  Before she pulled open the final door, Beth stopped and placed her arms around her. “Try not to get caught.” And with those words, she stepped back and opened the door to the hall.

  The sound of music drifted along the hallway and mingled with the noise of distant conversation. All of the lamps were lit, and as she walked along the hall, she passed other ballgoers dressed in their resplendent finest. Moving through the chattering crowd, she began to relax. Her dress was fine, but not a patch on some of the creations that she saw around her. Worries that her dress would mark her out in the crowd began to fade, as she followed a trio of chattering ladies to the staircase.

  She descended the stairs, moving slowly to accommodate the length of her skirt. The staircase swept her down into the grand hallway and into fairyland. Strings of coloured lights crisscrossed the ceiling and walls, leaving pools of shadow in between. The music swelled in volume as she moved through the chattering throng. She had not realised how many people were in attendance, and the sheer numbers took her breath away. The men were as finely dressed as the women, and for a moment she wished that she could see Darius in this setting.

  The doors to the main ballroom hung open and the music issued from beyond. She walked past several small groups of people, catching snippets of gossip as she did so. Most of the talk revolved around Darius’ accident, and she moved away in disgust. They treated his injuries as salacious fodder with no empathy for him.

  The ballroom beckoned, and she walked forward into the chamber. The magnificence of the scene almost took her breath away. Beneath the lights of a grand chandelier, couples were dancing, a riot of colour in an already opulent room. The large doors on the left-hand side were open to the outside, the chill air making little difference to the packed room. Golden light spilt from the open doors, changing the colour of the fallen snow outside. Some couples even braved the frosty night air, seeking relief from the stuffy heat of the ballroom.

  At the far end of the room was a large dais with three ornate chairs, one of which was occupied. A woman sat on the right-hand chair, an elegant crown of gold resting on her jet-black hair. Realising that she was staring at the queen, Tay turned away and returned to her perusal of the room. Several small tables were arranged on either side of the door, and at each one sat an individual dressed in black and white. Taking a step forward, Tay saw that a thick ledger laid before each of them. Realising that this was the famed register, she swallowed nervously and turned from the scene. Out in the main hall, the crowd had lessened, easing some of the claustrophobic tension. The clock chimed the hour, the deep notes lost in the noise from the ballroom. It was ten o’clock, and she had an hour before registration. Glancing at the crowd, she steeled herself and walked in the direction of the library, taking a glass of strong-smelling spirits as she did so. As she moved across the hallway, she took a sip of the foul-tasting liquid and kept going.

  People lined the corridors, and she moved past them, forcing herself to stay at a measured and unhurried pace. Lights blazed in the library, and there were people in there too, she could hear the conversations as she moved past and approached the door to the records room. As expected, the door was shut. Moving with a confidence she did not feel, Tay pushed open the door to the office with what she hoped was a drunken laugh. A young man in the uniform of a guard looked up as she almost fell across the threshold.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she blurted out, slurring her tones as she did so. “I was looking for…” She broke off and stared at the ceiling as though lost in thought. “The gallery.”

  “I’m afraid you’re in the wrong place, Miss.” The guard spoke with some respect, and she marvelled at the difference an expensive dress made to attitudes. “I can direct you to the right door.”

  “That’s quite alright, I think I’d like to have a look at this instead.” With a lurching gait, she staggered over to the archival unit and peered at it. “What does this do?” She waved her glass as she spoke, the liquid sloshing close to the top as she gestured. The guard stood up and walked forward.

  “This room is off limits, Miss.” He began to walk toward her.

  “But I’m interested… oops…” She waved the glass vigorously, and the spirits splashed across the table, narrowly missing the machine. “I’m so sorry,” she giggled, as she ineffectually waved at the spreading pool of liquid with a handkerchief. The guard walked forward, frustration on his face as he stared at the spill.

  “Here.” He reached her side and began to wipe down the surface. Taking advantage of his distraction, Tay stepped backward and moved around to the other machine. Carefully, she drew the recorder from her bag, and placed it into the slot, the noise from the library covering the sound of the recorder connecting. She then made a big show of opening the drawer marked with the codes that Lars had drilled into her.

  “Miss.” The guard whirled round and caught hold of her hand as she picked out a random disc. “You have to leave, Miss.”

  “Or what?” The words slurred sufficiently as she continued to speak. “Do you know who I am?” For one moment, she was glad of her exposure to Talia’s toxic personality, as she impersonated her snobbish, domineering tones precisely. Her fingers unwrapped the stole from around her neck and draped it over the machine behind her in a seemingly careless gesture. “All I want to see is one of these in operation.” Her eyes quickly located the batch number of discs as she waved down at the drawer. “Not state secrets.”

  “I can’t, Miss.” The guard was sweating now, and she felt marginally sorry for the man.

  “What about this?” She picked up a disc labelled ‘lumber production’. “I’m certain there’s nothing on this disc I can’t see.” A softer, more cajoling tone left her lips. “I only want to see the pictures on the screen, and then I’ll go.”

  The guard hesitated for the briefest of instants, clearly weighing up his options. “Alright.” His fingers took hold of the disc, and he turned back to the machine. As soon as his back was turned, Tay reached downward and picked up the record she needed. Quickly, she placed it behind her back. As the guard switched on the machine, Tay used the noise to cover the sound of feeding the disc into the apparatus behind her. With her fingers crossed, she turned on the contraption and the recorder, hoping that the sound would be covered by the guard’s machine and the muffling effect of the wrapped stole. A clacking emanated from the device before her, and she prayed it would be enough. The guard pressed several buttons, and the tell-tale reading noise sounded across the archive room. Behind her, the machine began to record, in muffled but still audible tones.

  “Miss.” She froze, almost expecting the guard to arrest her on the spot. Memories of the Ration Centre played through her mind as she realised that there would be no reprieve if she were caught. “It’s ready, Miss.” Masking the sense of relief, she stepped forward and made a show of staring at the tiny images that raced across the screen.

  “How can you make sense of them?” she asked, unsure of just how much time was needed to copy the contents of the disc.

  “Practice,” the guard replied, looking at the machine with some pride. “It takes training to read this.”

  “Tell me more.” She leant forward, ensuring that the front of her dress stretched downward, exposing the top of her cleavage. “I’ve always wanted to know how these things work.” Another shuffle forward and she reached in close, pointing at the screen with a delicate finger. “How can anyone read anything that small?”

  The guard glanced downward, eyes fixed on the swell of her breasts as she leant in close. Tay saw him swallow, but he continued to talk, his voice slighter faster than it had been. From behind she could hear the muffled clacking of the recorder.

  “The images can’t be read on the
screen,” he explained, a strangely patronising note to his tone. “There is an image code or stream of codes, which are known beforehand.” He pointed at the plainly visible numbers. “You select the number”－his fingers tapped out a sequence on the typewriter and one of the images centred in the middle of the page－“and it tells the machine to type out the information.” He pointed at the familiar paper spool.

  “That’s amazing.” She purred her voice and leant in to stare at the fuzzy image. The clicking behind her ceased, and she breathed a little easier. “What’s that speck in the corner?” She pointed at the screen and stepped back, allowing him to go in for a closer look. As he leant forward, she reached out behind her back and retrieved the disc.

  “I can’t see anything.” He turned back to her, and she gave a vapid smile. “I must have imagined it.” With a kittenish laugh, she moved toward him again, placing the disc back in the drawer as she did so. “Thank you.” A finger touched his face. “I…” She made a great show of glancing at the watch on her wrist. “I’d better go.” She whirled round and made to remove the stole, turning off the machine as she did so. “My stole’s stuck,” she muttered, as she returned to the other side of the apparatus, carefully removing the recorder as she pretended to free the lacy fabric.

  “May I help?” The guard reached forward, but Tay slapped his at his fingers.

  “Keep your clumsy fingers away,” she retorted, as she pretended to remove the last of the fabric. With a seemingly drunken lurch, she pulled away from the machine, the device concealed within her hand. “There.” She wrapped the stole about her neck. “Thank you so much.” With a brilliant smile, she reached out and bestowed a kiss on his cheek. “This has been the most entertaining bit of my night.” She backed out of the room and into the hallway. A group of people pushed past her as they left the library, leaving a room that was clear of people. As the door to the records room fastened behind her, she ducked into the library and slid the recorder deep into her bag.

  “The library again?” She turned, heart pounding, to face the speaker. Talon stepped in front of her, his face uncovered and the mask he should have been wearing dangling around his neck.

  “I didn’t think we were supposed to take those off.” She pointed at the mask, hoping that he hadn’t seen her place the recorder in the bag.

  “I must have missed the memo,” he replied, with a shrug.

  Tay watched him lean against the wall, her curiosity piqued by his nonchalance. “How did you know it was me?”

  “I guessed,” came the answer. “Not many of the ladies would come here during the ball, so I assumed.”

  “And if you had been wrong?” The weight of the recorder played heavily on her mind, but there was no opening to leave his company.

  “I would have apologised.” A fine-boned hand reached out toward her. “Care to dance?”

  “What, here?” She gazed about her in confusion. Whilst the library was extensive, there was no space to speak of.

  “Why not?” His fingers hovered before her. “I don’t fancy dancing in the main hall, and as a fellow nightly researcher, I thought you’d appreciate this room more.”

  “Alright.” Tay reached out her hand and slowly took hold of his. The music could still be heard from the main hall, but it was faint, the notes almost inaudible. With a gentle tug, he drew her closer and then took her other hand.

  “I’m not good at dancing,” he noted, with a wry smile, “but I can wave my arms around with absolute perfection.”

  A chuckle escaped Tay’s lips at his words, and she followed his arm movements as he began to weave them through the air. “You’re crazy.” Her laughter surprised her, as did her behaviour. It was the worst possible time to flirt, and yet, here she was. She could have left, made some excuse and returned to the packed cattle market in the main hall, but she felt strangely comfortable in his company.

  “So, did you find what you were looking for?”

  “Hmm?” She finished copying his latest arm movement and stared at him.

  “The other night,” Talon clarified, as he lifted his right arm, and moved her into a spin. “You were looking at history.”

  “Bits and pieces,” she replied, her mind drifting back to the books she had read the night before. Most of the information had been similar to the information they had been given in school, but some of it…

  “Like?” he pressed, and she looked back at him, drawn out of her reverie.

  “Well,” she murmured, as he spun her around for the second time, “I found out that the Clockwork Temple is the oldest industry.”

  “Really?” A thoughtful look slid over his features. “I suppose it makes sense.”

  “How so?” His fingers felt pleasantly warm against hers as they moved through a couple more steps.

  “Well before the Factory can build anything, it has to be invented.”

  “I suppose,” she hedged. “I always thought the Mine was first.”

  “No,” Talon replied, as he danced them closer to the bookshelves and let go of her hand. “This is one of the earliest accounts of the Clockwork Temple.” A thick tome, bound in red leather, was drawn out of the bookcase. Tay glanced greedily at the title, wondering if Talon would hand it to her. “It states that the Mine and Factory were created by the Temple.”

  Tay’s eyes followed the book in his hand as he placed it back on the shelf.

  “What about the forest?” Talon almost stopped dancing, as a guarded look drifted into his eyes.

  “What about the forest?” He threw the question back at her, and Tay was surprised at the forced levity to his tone.

  “Are there really monsters?” Concerned by his reaction, she decided to stick with the popular rumour.

  “Oh yes.” It was Tay’s turn to almost freeze, she had almost convinced herself that the gossip was false. “You can hear them from the windows of the Summer Palace.”

  “Really?” Talon caught hold of her hand again and continued to dance. “I thought…”

  “You thought it was a story?” He gave a small chuckle. “Well it’s not.” They danced closer to the fireplace, and he pointed at the engraving on the lintel. “That isn’t someone’s fancy.” Tay glanced up at the mantel and swallowed. Several fanged and demonic-looking faces stared down at her. “Whenever the Clockwork Temple go into the forest, they take a full complement of guards and go via the river.”

  Tay fell silent as she digested his words, a theory working its way through her mind as she tore her gaze away from the monstrous depictions.

  “Sorry to bring down the mood.”

  “That’s fine.” With a shake of her head, she tried to dismiss the fear that the faces on the mantel produced. “Let’s talk about something else…”

  “Sire.” They stopped moving as one of the footmen walked into the room. Tay froze and stared at Talon in shock. “Your father requires your presence,” the man stated. Talon gave a small, wry grin and released her hands.

  “Very well.” He nodded to the older man and replaced his mask. “I’ll be right there.”

  “You’re…” Tay couldn’t finish the sentence, stunned by the revelation.

  “Disappointed?” he asked, with a bite to his tones.

  “I just…” Tay whirled away from Talon and headed for the door, the desire to run flooded her veins. “I’ll see you in the main hall.” Without waiting for him to speak, Tay raced out of the library and rushed down the corridor. Panic seared through her as she moved past the crowds of people heading for the ballroom. How could she not have known? The guard from the night before had been deferential and compliant. She should have realised that he was more than a regular noble.

  She pushed past a couple of girls in the doorway to the ballroom and raced inside, looking for a corner to hide in. Talon was the prince, she shook her head and reached for a glass of something from a nearby tray, downing it in an instant.

  “Lyana?” She glanced up and cast her eyes around the room. The masks, and
noise of the orchestra made it difficult to identify the speaker. “It’s me, Linnett.” Dressed in garnet and jet, the taller girl walked toward her. Even with the mask that covered her face, Tay had to admit that Linnett looked good. The jewel tones of the dress expertly matched the caramel colour of her skin.

  “You’re looking good.”

  “Thanks.” Linnett reached her side and leant closer. “Did you hear about Annetta?”

  Tay froze, remembering the visit from Kail. “No.” She shook her head and allowed the other girl to lead her to one side.

  “She’s gone.” Linnett’s voice dropped lower, as though afraid that someone would hear. “Her name’s been wiped from the betrothal books.” Her voice caught, but she controlled herself. “I don’t know whether she’s gone home, or…” Her voice trailed away.

  “I don’t…” Tay stammered, unsure of how to comfort the other girl. Disappearances were common in the Factory, but she had never expected them to happen here.

  “Just don’t ask questions,” Linnett continued, her voice spilling rapidly from her lips. “Sign the damned books and go home.” For a moment, Tay thought that Linnett was about to cry, but the other girl composed herself and started to walk away from her. “It’s show time.” Before Tay could formulate a question, the sound of a gong echoed through the crowded space. The hall fell silent, and everyone stared up at the dais.

  Shaken by Linnett’s words, Tay cast her eyes toward the stage as a man walked out from the wings and crossed the platform. As he reached the podium, the ballgoers dipped into reverential bows. As Tay hurriedly moved to follow suit, she followed the movements of the man, who could only be the King. Shorter than she anticipated, but with the lithe movements of a skilled athlete, he approached the podium.

  “Welcome.” Light bounced off his greying hair as his voice echoed loudly about the room. “We shall start the proceedings directly.” Behind him, Tay could see Talon, and she looked to her feet, the wall, anywhere but in his direction. “My son will sign the register first.”