Clockwork Menagerie: A Shadows of Asphodel Novella

by Karen Kincy

  Konstantin stalled for time. “Good to see you again. You weren’t expecting me?”

  The countess laughed. “You have a habit of turning up uninvited.” Her eyes gleamed behind her mask of carved ivory.

  “Sorry to interrupt your little masquerade, but I have business to attend to.”

  Zinoviya smiled at his technomancy gauntlets. “How delightfully archaic of you. What do you expect to accomplish?”

  “Ending you and your experiments.” Konstantin gritted his teeth. “And you?”

  She opened her mouth, interrupted by a resonant boom. Doors splintered off their hinges as the Eisenkrieger barreled into the ballroom. Screams echoed under the high ceiling. From the cockpit, Himmel spotted Konstantin.

  They had to act fast.

  “Ladies and gentleman!” Konstantin raised his arms to the ceiling. “Pardon the interruption, but tonight I have a demonstration for you all.” He knew not everyone understood his words, but he would show them.

  The Eisenkrieger marched over, steel feet thudding on the parquet, and dwarfed the clockwork bear. Konstantin grabbed a screwdriver from his pocket and pried open the belly of the machine, accessing the diesel-electric transmission. Coils of copper wire gleamed like the Eisenkrieger’s intestines. The alternator generated enough voltage to stop his heart. Hands shaking, he remembered to breathe. He clipped an insulated wire to the transmission and ran it along to the catalyzer, which hummed to life.

  Now he had power, something he could work with.

  Konstantin flicked the switch on the catalyzer, directing temporal magic into his gauntlets. A green glow crackled between his hands. He concentrated, squinting at the magic, shaping the energy like a sculptor working with clay.

  His earlier calculations estimated the age of the little boy at perhaps five or six. That gave him a ballpark for when the count had to be alive. Beyond the help of mathematics, this was highly technical guesswork.

  The clockwork bear sat on its haunches, sniffing the air, as if it smelled the magic.

  Konstantin cradled the glowing sphere in his hands, focusing it between his fingers, and carried it over to the bear.

  Zinoviya’s shriek nearly shattered glass. “Stop him!”

  Alexsandr lunged, his hand on his saber, but Himmel was quicker. He swung the Eisenkrieger’s arm and knocked the man off his feet. Alexsandr tumbled across the marble and skidded into a clockwork chicken.

  Konstantin sucked in a breath, his concentration shaken. “Here we go,” he whispered.

  He moved his hands apart, expanding the sphere of magic, until it glimmered the size of a globe. The bear bared its teeth, like it longed to maul him, but he guessed the countess would never allow the beast to defend itself.

  He was right.

  When he touched the bear, it closed its eyes. The magic exploded like a bomb.

  Knocked off his feet, Konstantin hit the marble, blinded by the flash of green light. The bones in his hands throbbed, steel gauntlets hissing with steam. Time decelerated around the clockwork bear. The beast reared, clawing the air, before it toppled on its side and remained still. The stink of burnt hair filled his nose.

  Konstantin met Himmel’s eyes, seeing his own horror reflected there. What had he done?

  Countess Victorova laughed, a titter of triumph, her glove over her mouth. “Such a marvelous demonstration!”

  Konstantin thought he might vomit. Unsteady, he found his footing again. The little boy stared down at the clockwork bear, limp and singed, before he burst into tears. Sobbing, he clung to his mother and pointed at the beast.

  Green lightning crackled between the bear’s claws.

  And a ghost climbed from its corpse.

  ount Victorov rose from his soul’s crystal prison. He shimmered like a mirage, fraying at the edges. Water pattered from his soaked tuxedo, though the drops never hit the ground. When he walked, he vanished between steps, flickering ahead. The man’s stance was military, his eyes burning from beyond the grave.

  Beneath the chandeliers, the masquerade halted like rundown clockwork. Zinoviya stood transfixed by her late husband, hiding her mouth, her little boy clinging to her hand. Fear twisted her face, surely an admission of guilt.

  Count Victorov turned to his son, who watched him with a face frozen in shock. The ghost’s hand stroked through the boy’s blond hair.

  Zinoviya tried a trembling smile. “Georgy?” She reached out to her husband.

  Count Victorov shuddered, his body rippling underwater, and blinked to his wife. “Zinoviya.” Raw hatred rasped in his voice.

  She stumbled back, tripping over the train of her gown, and picked up her skirts, but Count Victorov lunged to possess her body. Zinoviya clutched her throat, gasping for breath, her rouged cheeks reddening.

  Murmurs rippled through the masquerade, as if they remembered how to speak.

  No, God, all of this was wrong. Konstantin never meant to idly watch a woman die. He hesitated, an instant too long, Zinoviya withering in a pool of ivory silk. Her fingers fumbled at her neck, strangled from within.

  “Mama!” Her son fought the men holding him back. “Mama!”

  Himmel retreated in the Eisenkrieger, already looking for an exit. Zinoviya’s head hit the marble, her hands relaxing at her neck. Blood saturated her cheeks and purpled the grotesque beauty of her face. Her son screamed.

  From her last breath, the ghost coalesced. “Do svidaniya.”

  The count touched the top of his son’s head before he vanished into tatters of mist.

  Drenched in cold sweat, Konstantin grabbed the catalyzer, evidence of his crime, and broke into a run while the suitcase banged against his leg. He shoved through the doors, the boy’s sobbing echoing in his ears.

  “Get in.” Himmel loaded the Eisenkrieger into the truck. “Now!”

  Konstantin hefted the catalyzer into the back. Sitting shotgun, he couldn’t stop looking at his gauntlets. “She’s dead.”

  Himmel twisted the key in the ignition. “Wasn’t that our objective?”

  “No.”

  Gunning the engine, Himmel tore from the alley and turned onto a street. “Your hands are clean. Her husband killed her.”

  Konstantin swallowed back bile. “Ghosts can’t kill.”

  “Not even poltergeists haunting castles?”

  “Formless, harmless. I gave Count Victorov the opportunity.”

  “You gave him revenge.”

  Konstantin stared at his unyielding face. “You think we did the right thing? A little boy watched his mother die.”

  A muscle in Himmel’s jaw jumped. “Women and children aren’t immune from war.”

  “How can you be so cold?”

  “Haven’t you killed hundreds of men by building the Eisenkriegers?”

  Konstantin clenched his gauntlets. “We saved thousands with the Hex.”

  “That may be true.” Himmel gave the truck more gas. “The arithmetic of war isn’t pretty. Only the sum matters in the end.”

  “None of them know the truth. The countess died for her psychothaumaturgy.”

  Himmel shook his head. “They can put two and two together.”

  Sick to his stomach, Konstantin stared out the window as they approached the airfield. He had been so sure of his goal, but these consequences hardly felt like justice. The countess was dead. The clockwork menagerie was dead.

  He closed his eyes.

  Boarding the Nachtigall, they abandoned St. Petersburg. Himmel donned his captain’s hat and commanded the zeppelin. Baron von Bach didn’t say a single word to Konstantin, though the darkness in his eyes explained it all.

  With a jolt, the zeppelin cast off from the mooring mast and powered up her engines. Nose aimed heavenward, she ascended into the blue brilliance of the sky. St. Petersburg dwindled beneath them. No Russian planes took off to pursue them; perhaps the ambassador’s diplomatic immunity protected them after all.

  Guilt transmuted Konstantin’s bones to lead. He sat on the starboard obser
vation deck, his hands still armored by gauntlets, until he couldn’t stand to look at them. Shaking, he loosened the buckles and yanked away the steel.

  His skin looked clean. “I killed the countess,” he whispered, testing the words.

  Once the airship reached a cruising altitude, Himmel joined Konstantin on the deck. “We’re returning to Vienna.”

  “Inevitably,” Konstantin said flatly.

  Himmel folded his arms across his chest. “Aren’t you happy to go home?”

  “And face the consequences?”

  “Maybe there won’t be a trial. Maybe they will pardon you.”

  Konstantin chewed on the inside of his cheek until it bled. “But I’m guilty.”

  “Not of buggery.” Himmel kept a straight face.

  Konstantin jogged his leg. “This isn’t amusing. I’m about to be fined, imprisoned, disgraced, or all of the above.”

  “They should thank us for taking out the countess.”

  “I didn’t want her to die!” The words exploded from Konstantin. He felt childish.

  Himmel’s jaw tightened. “You see yourself as blameless, and yet you work as an archmage and invent efficient killing machines.” His voice softened, somehow worse this way. “We all have blood on our hands.”

  Konstantin stood from the chair. “At least I’m not an archmage any longer.”

  When he left, Himmel didn’t stop him. The captain must have more important responsibilities commanding the zeppelin. This was war, after all. There wasn’t any room for foolish emotions and hopeful experiments.

  On the flight to Vienna, Konstantin hid in the cargo hold, polishing the Eisenkrieger until it shone. He traced his fingertips over its battle scars, remembering the violence of those fights. Technomancy could be beautiful, but the archmages only paid for its brutal applications. He couldn’t continue to work in their laboratory without killing the enemy by the hundreds, by the thousands. Who knew when this war would end?

  Lying in her cage, Fang woofed as Baron von Bach entered the hold. “Falkenrath.”

  Konstantin inhaled to steady his nerves. “Yes?”

  “You are to accompany me to the Hall of the Archmages, where there will be a hearing.”

  Konstantin folded the polishing rag into ever smaller squares. “Sir, I—”

  “At least she isn’t a martyr.” Von Bach turned his back on him, uninterested in a reply.

  In Vienna, one guilt outweighed the other.

  Konstantin left the hearing on numb legs. He clutched his golden edelweiss pin in his hand. Where was Himmel? They had promised to meet up outside the Hall of the Archmages, afterward, but maybe it was too soon.

  Thankfully, a minute later, Himmel strode through the crowd. “What’s the verdict?”

  Konstantin parroted their words. “My work in St. Petersburg effectively eliminated a threat. They offered me my job back.”

  “Wonderful!” Grinning, Himmel slapped his shoulder. “Congratulations, archmage.”

  “But—” He inhaled. “—I quit.”

  “What the hell do you mean, you quit?”

  Konstantin glanced at the edelweiss in his hand. “They decided the countess made false accusations, to divert attention from her own guilt, but said I should avoid suspicion at all costs. They told me to never see you again.”

  “Falkenrath, don’t be a fool.” Himmel thrust a finger at the doors. “Go back.”

  “No.”

  “Grovel for a second chance. A third chance, since you cocked this up already.”

  “I said no.” Konstantin slipped the edelweiss pin into his pocket. “I’m done with the archmages, but I’m not done with you.”

  Himmel stared him down, his eyes glimmering. “Have you lost your mind? You have a future with the archmages, Konstantin, and I won’t let you throw it away like a piece of trash. Not on my account. I order you to go back.”

  “You can’t.” Konstantin smiled. “You never outranked me, anyway.”

  Himmel cleared his throat, tried to speak, and cleared his throat again. “They haven’t given me a new assignment, but I assure you, it won’t be a humanitarian effort. We both know zeppelins will do more than observe the war.”

  Konstantin scuffed his boot on the icy sidewalk. “You might need a technomancer.”

  “On an airship? They won’t let you aboard. Not with your track record.”

  “Theodore, I’m asking for your help.”

  “I tried.” Himmel growled. “And yet you refuse to return to the archmages.”

  “That isn’t an option.”

  Slowly, Himmel nodded. “Then I’m afraid I must resign my commission.”

  “What?” Konstantin locked gazes with him. “Leave the Navy?”

  “Yes.”

  The shock of it left him breathless. “Theodore, you can’t do that!”

  “You just did.” Himmel raised his eyebrows. “And I said I would risk my career for you. Aren’t I a man of my word?”

  “But you won’t be a captain.”

  “You won’t be an archmage. That leaves us with only one logical solution.”

  It sounded impossible, and yet, this future unfolded before them. Possibilities outshone Konstantin’s wildest dreams. Could an archmage and an airship captain abandon their identities and start again? Who would stop them?

  Konstantin met his gaze. “Where will we go?”

  “Anywhere.” Himmel touched his arm, a subtle gesture of affection. “Together.”

  Karen Kincy (Kirkland, Washington) can be found lurking in her writing cave, though sunshine will lure her outside.

  When not writing, she stays busy gardening, tinkering with aquariums, or running just one more mile.

  Karen has a BA in Linguistics and Literature from The Evergreen State College.

  Find Karen online at:

  www.karenkincy.com

  www.facebook.com/KarenKincyAuthor

  www.twitter.com/karenkincy

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  Appetizer:

  Book Cover

  Title Page

  Main Course:

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Dessert:

  Closing

  About the Author

  Copyright & Publisher