Metal and Magic

by Chris Paton

  “A boy I hope to find soon,” Stepan said and turned away from Ivan to study the city.

  “The river first, Kapitan. Otherwise we will not be able to free the city.”

  “I know what I must do,” Stepan said and fingered the clasp of his wristband. He tapped the false watch face and pictured the photograph of his wife and child hidden beneath.

  “I will find the third member of our team,” Lena said as she stepped forwards to kiss her father on the cheek. “I will meet you here, in one hour.”

  “It will take you an hour to find one man?” said Ivan. “Who are you looking for?”

  Lena giggled and skipped backwards a step.

  “No, not him,” Ivan said. “He is not fit to be inside a tiny boat.”

  “It's a submersible,” said Stepan. “Not a boat. It sails under the water.”

  “This is my point. The man she is going to find...”

  “Yes?”

  “Pah,” Lena said and clapped her hands at her father's words. “The Cook is a very reliable Cossack. One of our best.”

  “Not one of mine,” Ivan said and whispered to Stepan. “The man she is looking for comes from one of the other bands.” He spat on the ground. “Most disagreeable, but handy in a fight.”

  “Da. This is why we need him,” said Lena. “See you in an hour.”

  “The Cook?” said Stepan as Lena made her way between the trenches, tents and cooking fires of the Cossack siege force. She turned once to wave at her father and then disappeared into a large tent.

  “She is a good girl,” said Ivan. “But too much like her father. And, like her father, she listens only to her mother.” Ivan reached into his pockets removed his pipe and a pouch of tobacco. Stepan watched as the Cossack leader pressed a plug of tobacco into the bowl of the pipe. “Lena is very dear to me, Kapitan Skuratov.”

  “I understand.”

  “And you will keep an eye on her, in the city?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good,” Ivan said and pushed the pipe between his lips and lit it. He puffed three clouds of sweet smoke into the air, the corners of his mouth twitching as he smoked. “Tell me about your son, Kapitan.”

  “I should really get ready, Ivan.”

  “No, stay with me a while, I am waiting for someone. I told them I would meet them here. You can tell me about your son while we wait.”

  “All right,” said Stepan. He paused for a moment before describing Nikolas, a small, thin boy who had suffered many illnesses as a child. “His lungs are not the best. It is almost as if he worked the mines, not his mother. But he does not complain.”

  “Ah,” said Ivan. “Strong of mind, like a good Cossack.”

  “Perhaps,” said Stepan with a nod. Thinking of his son reminded Stepan of the day the ships had arrived at the docks in Arkhangelsk. Nikolas had been so excited that day. He had eaten the last of Vladimir's sweets, just minutes before the emissaries had turned on the people. Stepan felt a lump grow in his throat as he imagined how scared Nikolas must have been, caught in the middle of a stampede of people, trampling upon one another to escape the swing of the emissaries' swords. Stepan swallowed and tried not to think of the following months, but the image of his son, hungry, frightened, and alone stuck in his mind and Stepan was quiet.

  “Kapitan?” said Ivan. “Are you all right?”

  “I am fine. I am just thinking about Nikolas.”

  “You need cheering up, eh?” said Ivan with a wave to two Cossacks standing close by. Stepan watched as the shorter of the two Cossacks helped the other around a trench. There was something familiar about the way the second Cossack walked. But the face was hidden with a scarf. “Kapitan,” Ivan said as he stepped forward to take the Cossack's hand. “I think you know your wife, Anna Skuratova.”

  “Anna,” breathed Stepan as Ivan led his wife to him. Stepan ran his hands along Anna's arms and removed the scarf to see her face.

  “Stepan,” Anna said and licked at the first of the tears on her cheek to reach her lips. “I thought I had lost you.”

  “And I...” he said and wiped the tears from Anna's cheeks. He tugged the scarf gently from her head, freeing the thin blonde hair that twitched with the wind. Anna lifted a hand to her mouth and coughed. She sank onto Stepan's shoulders as the cough continued. Stepan kissed his wife's ear and whispered to her as drowned in the smell of her hair.

  Anna caught her breath and lifted her head to kiss Stepan's lips. The sweet smell of Ivan's pipe tobacco drifted past and she broke free to hold Stepan's face in her hands, running her fingers through the light beard on his face as she searched his eyes. “Nikolas?” she said. “Where is our son?”

  “He is in the city. Ivan says he is alive,” Stepan said and glanced at the Cossack. Ivan nodded and took another puff of tobacco. “I am going into the city tonight.”

  “To find Nikolas?”

  “Yes, but first I have to block the river.”

  “You are going to war again,” Anna said and closed her hands into fists and pressed them upon Stepan's shoulders. “I hate it when you fight. I am sick of all the fighting. But,” she said. “I am sick of being sick. The emissaries should have been put to work in the mines, and now they force our people to work there, and more and more people become sick, like me. Like Nikolas.”

  “Nikolas is not so sick, Anna. He has not been in the mines.”

  “But his lungs are weak, like mine.”

  “I will find him, Anna. Whatever it takes. I promise.”

  “And I, for my part, will accept that you must do whatever you must to bring our boy home.”

  “I will.”

  “Go then,” she said. “Bring our son home.” Anna kissed Stepan once more. The smile on her face lingered for a moment as she stepped back, disappearing with another bout of coughing that tore at Stepan's heart. He pulled Anna into his arms and held her.

  The sound of a breathy whistle drifted around Ivan as a short and stubby Cossack waddled into view. Stepan saw Lena stop and wait as the man greeted her father. The Cook, Stepan noticed, was scarred with crude crosses on both cheeks, and armed with two bandoliers of knives crossed over the man's wool jacket. Two broad Saami knives dangled from the man's belt, but apart from the many blades, the Cook was unarmed.

  “Anna,” Stepan said as she stopped coughing. “I must go.”

  Anna lifted her head and nodded. Stepan kissed her on the forehead and brushed errant strands of hair from her face with his fingers. He studied her face, her pale cheeks, thin mouth and tear-red eyes.

  “Go,” she said. “I will be here when you get back.”

  “I will find you,” Stepan said and gave Anna one last kiss before he walked away to join Ivan and the Cook.

  “Kapitan,” said the Cook. “Lena says we are going into the city?”

  “Yes.”

  “Won't that be fun,” the Cook said and pulled Stepan into a rough embrace. Stepan wrinkled his nose at the man's breath – cabbage and vodka – and pulled himself free.

  “Lena chose you over all the Cossacks here,” Stepan said and waved his hand in an arc that took in the entire camp. “Why?”

  “I don't know,” said the Cook. “Maybe because I can do this?” The Cook's question had just reached Stepan's ears when he drew a long knife with a narrow leaf blade from the bandolier and threw it at the Cossack who had escorted Anna through the camp. The knife pierced the ushanka on the Cossack's head and wobbled there for a moment as the man stared up at the knife just inches from his forehead.

  “I think I understand,” said Stepan.

  “Da,” said Lena as she walked up to the Cossack and pulled the knife from his hat. “We are going to have a lot of fun.”

  Chapter 22

  The Tanfana

  Imperial Russia

  July, 1851

  Emilia kicked her heels to the rhythm of the waltz as the Wallendorf controllers guided their emissaries through a regimented dancing routine in front of the engineering car. Kettle
pot observed from a small stage in the middle of the dancing arena, and Luise, sitting beside Emilia, could have sworn the emissary was smiling. The concept, she agreed, was sound and the means of encouraging the Şteamƙin to inhabit the emissaries was nothing if not novel. But Luise was bothered by a detail she didn't quite understand.

  “Emilia,” she said. “What will happen to Kettlepot if the Şteamƙin leave his pipes in favour of one of the other emissaries?”

  “Oh, that won't happen, Miss.”

  “Why not?”

  “The Şteamƙin inside Kettlepot are there for good.”

  “Then where will the others come from?”

  “Anywhere and everywhere,” Emilia said and swept her arm in front of her. “Şteamƙin are in the ground and the air, all around us. But they're lazy, see. They have to be roused, and with all that stomping on the ground and the heat from their furnaces, and the steam running through the pipes, if there are any Şteamƙin within a mile of here, you can be sure they will get the message, and come for a look-see.”

  “You're quite sure?”

  “Yep. Positive.”

  “And how long will it take?” said Luise as she checked the time on her pocket watch. “We have to get to Arkhangelsk before Khronos.”

  “I think we'll know in another few minutes,” said Emilia and nodded towards one of the emissaries waltzing furthest from Kettlepot. “Look at that one, there. He's twitching.”

  Luise searched for the emissary Emilia had pointed out and recognised it in an instant – it was the only emissary not moving. Its controller dodged between a quartet of spinning emissaries and fiddled with the levers inside the control box from within a distance of a few feet. The emissary did not respond. Instead, it bent at the knees and gave the controller what appeared to be an intense scrutiny.

  “Yep,” said Emilia and leaped down from the ladder onto the tracks. “We've got one.” Luise watched as Emilia whistled for Kettlepot to come and meet the new Şteamƙin. Kettlepot stepped off the stage and clanked over to the emissary and its controller.

  “It won't respond to any commands,” the controller said and looked at Emilia. “Is this what happens?”

  “Yep,” she said. “Now you have to greet it and treat it proper like.”

  “Like a friend?”

  “Yep.”

  “All right,” the controller said as he put down the control box and held out his hand. The emissary stared at him for a moment and then looked at Kettelpot. Emilia's emissary lifted its own hand and shook hands with the controller. Kettlepot took a step back and let the new Şteamƙin emissary come forwards. The emissary held out its hand and closed its fingers around the controllers. The man screamed as the emissary squeezed, crushing the bones in the controller's hand as the man sank to the ground in pain.

  “Not so much,” said Emilia and waved her hands in front of the emissary. It let go and held its hand in front of its face, turning it one way and then the other in the light.

  The controller's scream stopped the dance and an officer lifted needle on the gramophone to stop the music. Hannah walked up to the controller together with the doctor.

  “He crushed my hand.”

  “Ja,” said Hannah. “But it worked. Put this emissary in the car together with the others. Be sure to keep them all steamed-up and ready for battle. Perhaps we will get lucky and more will turn before we reach Arkhangelsk.” She stopped to smile at Emilia and then looked at Luise. “Time to get on the train. The engine is repaired and we need to get moving. I suggest you use the time to study your notes and prepare for our next encounter with Khronos.”

  Luise watched as Hannah organised the officers and then waited for the doctor to finish binding the controller's hand.

  “Doctor,” she said. “Do you have time to hypnotise me once we get onboard?”

  “Are you in pain? Are there signs of bleeding?”

  “No, not so much, but I have an idea that I might be able to reach out to the man in Arkhangelsk, the one who has been helping me with the khronoglyphs, if I am under hypnosis.”

  “I am not sure how,” the doctor said. “But I am happy to assist you.”

  “And what about me?” said Emilia. “Can I help?”

  “I don't think so,” Luise said and smoothed her hand through Emilia's hair. “I think it best if you spend some time with Kettlepot, but come and find me at lunchtime. The doctor and I should be finished by then.”

  “Okay. I'll be in engineering.” Emilia whistled for Kettlepot to walk with her and Luise watched as the unlikely pair made their way down the length of the train.

  “Now then,” Luise said and climbed up the ladder and into the passenger car, “to the books.”

  The doctor joined her at the table closest to the door. He poured Luise a cup of tea before he sat down. She pulled her notebook from her pocket and placed it on the table. The doctor looked at it.

  “It's my khronoglyph diary,” she said and took a sip of tea. “A chronological record of each glyph, the day I discovered or received it and the notes I have made since using them.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Once I am under hypnosis, I want you to show me the khronoglyphs and ask me if I can think of any different combinations, and take notes. If you don't mind?”

  “I don't mind...”

  “And thanks for the tea,” Luise said. She spilled a drop onto the saucer as The Tanfana lurched into motion. “You look troubled doctor...”

  “Please, call me Mirko. We have known each other long enough now.”

  “Yes, all right. But what is it that troubles you?”

  “Hypnosis,” Mirko said and warmed his hands around his cup. “For people with your condition, haemophilia, it is used to calm them, to put them in a slow state of mind and body, to allow the body to heal...”

  “Exactly what I achieved with my impediment machine.”

  “Yes, but I don't like the idea of you working while under hypnosis – it defeats the purpose.”

  “Ah,” said Luise. “That depends on the purpose. I am not asking you to hypnotise me so that I can heal – I want to learn. I have reached an impasse and I think hypnosis can help me get around it.”

  “If you are sure?”

  “Many people have lost their lives already because of me...”

  “Not directly.”

  “Yes, directly, because of what I have done. It is time to make amends and to put that right. I am sure, doctor. Now, let's begin.”

  The doctor pulled a locket from his pocket and held it in front of Luise. The daylight caught the gold plate and it glittered as it swayed.

  “Don't laugh, Miss Hanover.”

  “I am trying not to,” Luise said and took a deep breath. She straightened her back, placed her hands on the table, and leaned forwards. “I am ready... Mirko.”

  The part of Luise's mind that was obsessed with science observed that it took less than three minutes for her to become entranced by the locket swinging from the doctor's grip. The other part of her mind, the part more prone to imagination and flights of fantasy, was lost all of a sudden in a cloud. It was real, cold with moisture wetting her cheeks and beading upon her clothes and in her hair. She wasn't falling, her mind knew that much, but she was suspended in the cloud, sealed within a pearl white mist, deafened but for the incessant drone of a propeller that seemed to engulf her. In the back of her mind, she heard the doctor's questions, and imagined him holding up the corresponding page of her notebook. But the khronoglyphs were all but forgotten as Luise realised where she was, and who she was with.

  “Khronos.”

  “Khronos?” said the doctor and opened the first page of his notebook and wrote down what Luise said. “Khronos the demon or a khronoglyph called Khronos?”

  Luise didn't answer. In her mind she was far, far away from the passenger car of The Tanfana. Khronos confirmed that fact as the Wallendorf flyer he had commandeered droned out of the mist and into Luise's sight. Khronos stared
at her from the pilot's seat, his initial surprise converted quickly into a scowl.

  You, he said. How can you be here?

  “I think you called me here. To this place.”

  I have no need of you. You had your chance to join me – you chose poorly. Now will die poorly. Khronos circled the flyer around Luise. Tell me, how do you exist here? You are no demon, unless... He flew closer and cast a tendril of demonlight at Luise. She watched as it passed through her body.

  “I am not here, and yet we must be connected.”

  I asked for no such connection, Khronos said and drew the demonlight back into his hand. You seek to delay me. That is your purpose.

  “No,” Luise said with a shake of her head. “I wish only to stop you.”

  And you think Abraxas can help you? Hah, Khronos threw back his head and laughed. That old man is past his prime. Was it Abraxas that sent you the khronoglyphs, the ones that allowed you to open the Passage? Of course it was, Khronos said and thumped the frame of the flyer. For that alone I will kill him.

  “And if you can't?”

  Can't? Can't what? Kill an old man? Khronos reduced the throttle and let the flyer drift closer to Luise. I will kill everyone and everything that dares to stand between Abraxas and me. Do you dare, Luise Hanover?

  “I dare to stop you, yes,” Luise said and clenched her fists. Khronos glared at her and then let his eyes drift down to her side.

  You cannot be touched in this form, he said and flicked his eyes back to Luise's face. But time works across all dimensions – for better or worse, faster or slower. I think, in your case, it will be worst if it moves fast. Let us see if your friends can heal you now. Khronos curled the fingers of his right hand and spun a sphere of demonlight around Luise. She jerked once as the sphere spun a violent rotation around her body. She gripped her side as fresh blood pooled beneath her skin and she sank from the cloud and plummeted towards the train below.

  The doctor caught Luise as she slumped to one side. He lifted her hands from her side and tugged her shirt out of her skirt to examined her abdomen. Her skin was flushed with a deep blue in the area she had been beaten when he had first examined her, and now the doctor could see that all his previous work had been undone.