Land of Verne

by David H. Burton

  Grim nodded and swallowed down what felt like a lump of sawdust in his throat.

  The twins and Ellen were teary eyed, but Sam sobbed and shook. The last time Grim had seen him cry like that he’d just lost his pet hamster. He gave both their dads a prolonged hug.

  Sam then put his little hand in Grim’s and they stood together until their parents disappeared on the horizon. Then the six children wandered back into the tent to pack up their belongings.

  They departed the tent and when all was ready, the small group that remained began the trek. Treena eventually came over and walked with Rudy and Grim, yet conversation was at a minimum. Even Treena, talkative as she was, sensed that neither was in a mood to chat.

  Grim only briefly struck up a conversation with her, trying to think about something other than losing his dads.

  “Do you have that device?” he asked. “The one that summoned that fire girl, or whatever she was.”

  Treena shook her head. “Father took it. He said I won’t need it where we’re going.”

  “Bummer.” He was hoping to get a better look at it.

  The time seemed to travel slowly, almost painfully as they marched through marsh and fog, forest and dale. When they finally came upon their destination, it was almost a relief.

  The buildings were old and at the center of the city sat a blackened, decrepit manor. Sinth carriages silently hastened through the streets.

  The city was dark, and dirty. They walked its cobbled streets, onlookers paying them no heed. They wound through the maze of streets until they finally came to a crooked structure. It had a sagging tower that appeared as if it was about to crumble and the grounds about the building seemed to have swallowed half of it. Ravens were perched all about the iron fences and a vulture sat atop the tower ― a twisted stone finger that beckoned them forward.

  Aunt Patrice raised the heavy door knocker and let it drop.

  After three attempts of loud thumping, a pale woman with a smooth, ageless face appeared at the door. Her lips seemed permanently pursed together in a slightly off-center position ― like she was trying to kiss her own ear. Her hairdo was so tall and intertwined it looked like a giant bird’s nest and she wore a long black-and-white dress that skirted along the floor behind her.

  “Welcome to Madam Malkim’s Home for Destitute and Wayward Children,” she said with a lilting voice. She cupped her hands together in the most prim and proper manner. I am Madam Malkim.”

  Destitute and wayward. Great.

  Aunt Patrice approached the woman. She whispered in her ear and Madam Malkim kept eying the large wart on Aunt Patrice’s nose. Every time it came within inches of her face, she backed away or swayed her head around to avoid it.

  She gazed towards the children, pausing, and finally gave a single nod of her head in which her hair almost toppled over.

  Madam Malkim pushed on the door and it didn’t creak when it opened; it moaned, like it was on the verge of death. She led them down a dreary-looking hallway, coated in dust and grime. She paused in front of a narrow staircase, beside which sat a weathered painting of a staunch-looking man in a gray suit. He held a matching blaster. At the bottom of the painting was etched an inscription:

  Lord Occularis Green, Keeper of the Night.

  Madam Malkim immediately pointed at the twins, “Your room is up the stairs, three doors on your right. You two little ones,” she said to Ellen and Sam, “next door. You two girls,” she said pointing to Rudy and Treena. “Two doors further. And you,” she said, looking at Grim, “next door to them. Tomorrow your chores will be assigned.”

  “Chores?” asked Barny and Benny.

  “Indeed,” she said with a snort. “You must earn your keep.”

  A look of disappointment spread through the small group.

  “Surely you did not think we would wait on you hand-and-foot? It takes work to maintain Madam Malkim’s.”

  Everyone nodded their heads, and rather dejectedly at that.

  “Now, off you go,” she said and clapped her hands. She walked with Aunt Patrice and Master Galan, and Grim was pretty sure his Aunt passed the woman a few gold coins.

  The twins darted up the stairs, howling with excitement. Treena hesitated with Grim and Rudy. Sam and Ellen took hands and marched up the stairs after Ben and Barny with Toby on their heels.

  Grim ascended the stairs behind them all, unsure if the steps would crumble under his feet. He crept down the corridor, lined with more of the same cantankerous-looking paintings.

  It took effort to walk through the hall and up the stairs. Everything leaned so badly it was like trying to walk through the crooked funhouse at the fair.

  With the sensation that something was watching him, Grim looked behind him, but each time he found nothing.

  He strode a little further and turned.

  Nothing.

  He took a few more steps.

  Still nothing.

  Then one of the paintings blinked.

  Grim hustled down the hall, eager to get to his room. Rudy looked back at him with one eyebrow raised.

  Most of the rooms were occupied since there seemed to be a few belongings in each room on top of the beds. Finally, after the others had found their rooms, Grim came across the one that was his.

  The space could only be described as cramped. It was about the size of his old bedroom back on Earth, with two wooden poster beds that looked ripe for the junkyard. There was one nightstand between them and a simple wooden wardrobe against one wall. A ragged-looking rug lay on the floor just in front of a small fireplace. Frayed, puffy red drapes hung in front of the window, and the walls were bare.

  The room gave Grim a slight chill, and he knew in the cold months it was going to be awfully drafty. He plopped his belongings on the bed, except for the pocket watch from his dads. That he placed inside his vest.

  Grim stepped out into the hall. His siblings and Treena all poked their heads out their doors as they heard a mechanical clopping sound. It was a set of footsteps, but they seemed off. One foot was considerably heavier than the other.

  Then around the corner hobbled a creature who was a mishmash of parts. Her left arm and leg were a mechanical menace that hissed and whirred. The right side of her face was the same. The rest of her was flesh, but not human.

  “Greetings,” it said. The creature sounded female. Her voice, unlike most of her neck, was natural. The fleshy parts of her were lithe, with bronze-colored skin, pointed ears and eyebrows that slanted upwards.

  The girl did not smile.

  “My name is Valeria Bellow,” she announced. “I am here to assist you. Madam Malkim indicated there were new orphans.” The fleshy part of her lips pressed together. The metallic parts remained unchanged. “My male counterpart will meet us downstairs momentarily. You will need to be sized for garments.” With that she turned on her mechanical heel and strode down the hall.

  The children followed, if a little hesitantly.

  After the ambush they weren’t sure of what to do with this thing.

  Downstairs they met a brawny, peculiar creature with grey skin, pointed ears, and wings that protruded from his back. He, too, was half machine and was dressed in a vest with matching cap and breeches. His face was distorted and harsh ― like it belonged on the side of a building, but when he saw them coming he smiled. His teeth were sharp spikes, but the cruelty of his features melted away as he grinned at them. Grim couldn’t help but stare. Despite Valeria’s abnormal features, she at least resembled a human. This creature did not.

  “Hello, Valeria,” he said as they approached. His voice was low and raspy, almost mechanical.

  “Greetings, Dorian,” she replied with a slight nod.

  Sam raised his hand, waving it about as if he was in desperate need to visit the lavatory.

  Dorian nodded to him. “Yes?”

  “What are you?” Sam asked.

  Dorian laughed. “Gargoyle. You must not get out much.”

  Sam giggled. “Not
you. Her,” he said.

  Valeria looked horrified at his pointing little finger. “I am a Sylph,” she replied with a sniff.

  Rudy put her arm around Sam’s shoulder. “We’re from very far away. We’ve never seen a Sylph before.”

  “Well, that would explain much,” snorted Valeria. “Come then, it is time we began the tour.” Dorian winked at the children and they followed the Sylph along the dim corridor. As they marched through the hallway, Valeria’s voice echoed off the walls.

  “This is Madam Malkim’s. It serves two purposes. It houses orphans and incorrigible children that no one wants. Secondly, it is an Academy of great renown among the nobility.”

  “And it’s haunted,” muttered Dorian.

  Valeria wheeled on him, but said nothing. He offered a sheepish smile.

  The Sylph then took them through various dilapidated hallways, each more run down than the next, showing where the orphans would live and earn their keep. Then she came upon a set of heavy double doors. She pulled on the iron handles and yanked them open.

  All of them gasped.

  On the other side was a corridor with elaborate paintings, fine tapestries, lush carpets and intricate moldings.

  “This,” said Valeria, “is Madam Malkim’s Academy for the Affluent.”

  She sped them through the fine halls, pointing to this classroom and that, but mostly she focused on things like: this lavatory that you will clean, that classroom where you will dust, this closet where the cleaning supplies are kept, and these chambers in which you will make the beds.

  Valeria paused as some young people were screamed at by what appeared to be a couple of well-dressed youths. One of them had stark-red hair that Grim couldn’t help but notice. Valeria turned to Dorian. Her eyes twinkled for a moment.

  “This is where I must leave you. I have other duties that require my attention. I trust you can handle the last of the tour, including getting them fitted for clothing, showing them the kitchens where they will cook and clean, and bringing them to the hall for dinner.” She marched off towards the kafuffle and there was a collective sigh from the group.

  Dorian offered a mechanical laugh. “She’s really not that bad when you get to know her.”

  They all just stared at him.

  “All right, fine,” he said, laughing again. “She’s always been stuffy like that. You’ll get used to it. Anyhow, let’s see to your clothes and then get some dinner.”

  Treena leaned over to Grim. “We’ll be lucky if she doesn’t turn into a Banshee.”

  “A Banshee?” he asked. Grim remembered well the Banshees that attacked them in the forest.

  “When Sylphs are angered they can turn into a Banshee. And they can never change back. I’d say she’s on the verge.”

  “Why can we see her without the goggles then?”

  “It’s the machine parts of her. She’s not fully Sylph anymore.”

  Grim nodded, but didn’t want to think of what a cyborg-like Banshee would be like. Then he caught Valeria lingering in the doorway. The Sylph gave Grim a prolonged look that screamed of scrutiny, and withdrew into a dark corridor.

  Grim and the others followed Dorian out the door and down the street to a little building where reams of cloth hung in the window.

  Madam Sloan’s Magnificent Manufactorum.

  The space was filled with sinth-driven sewing machines that were operating on their own.

  “Come in, come in,” said the proprietor. The woman had green skin and two small horns protruding from the sides of her head. A long mechanical tail whipped around behind her. Grim stopped in his tracks at the sight of her and blinked.

  “Newbeez I zee!” zipped Madam Sloan. The woman’s lips moved so fast Grim had to pause to interpret her words. It was like listening to Treena on fast forward.

  “Orphanz, yes?”

  Dorian nodded.

  “All right zen, line up and I’ll meazure you one by one. Orderly fazhion now!” She seized a piece of rope with dark markings on it and measured each of them, zipping about here and zooming about there, all the while muttering under her breath.

  “One and a half-ztitch-five-ztitch-four-width-zeven-ztitch.” When she finished with each she would scream out, “Next!” She measured them in almost no time at all. She then ushered them out the door.

  “Your new clothing will be delivered to Madam Malkimz,” she said and let the door slam closed. They all stood staring after the woman.

  Dorian chuckled, adjusting the cap on his head. “That’s how I looked when she first measured me. Madam Sloan is a Goad ― well, at least part of her is. You’ll go back for more fittings over the next few years. Four months from now is the twenty-fifth anniversary of Madam Malkim’s Academy for the Affluent. There’s going to be a big celebration. And since Madam Sloan is the best seamstress in the City of Harkness she has been requested to make gowns and clothing for many of the attendants. If I’m not mistaken, almost all of the Manors will be invited.”

  “Will our parents be invited?” Grim asked.

  Rudy kicked him.

  Gah!

  Dorian cocked his head to the side. “You’re not orphans?”

  Grim winced.

  “It’s all right,” he whispered. “Your secret is safe with me. Though most of us are orphans or sinthoids, there are many unwanted children here.”

  Grim nodded, blushing. Now they would be known as little hooligans.

  Unwanted. Great.

  “Come on,” Dorian said.

  They stepped into a dark alleyway and through a side door at Madam Malkim’s. They skirted through the corridors to a small room set with some crooked tables. There were a few murmurs and pointing fingers in the direction of the new children. The faces that gawked at them were of varying races including humans, Sylphs, Gargoyles, and a large number of other creatures that appeared to be half-human and half-machine. Grim tried not to stare at them as they entered.

  Through a half-door they could see into the school dining hall. It was crammed with a plethora of hungry, eager faces. All of them were human.

  Dorian brought them to one of the tables off in the corner of the smaller room. It wobbled as they sat.

  “Wait here, I’ll be back in a moment.” He left them to speak with some of the older boys seated at the end of the row. Grim figured, by the rather large size of them, they were all meant to lift heavy things. Some looked pretty freakish with their mechanical parts.

  Treena leaned over the table. “What do you think?”

  Grim wasn’t sure what to say. He couldn’t say he was in love with the place. He simply shrugged.

  “What do you think?” she asked Rudy.

  “Interesting,” was all Rudy managed to utter.

  She was busy studying the structures that held up the roof, if a little nervously.

  For once, the twins sat quiet while Ellen watched some other girls in choking dresses. Sam just petted Toby, whispering in his ear.

  Dorian returned to them with a couple of boys in aprons.

  “Dinner is served,” he said and plunked down. The table shook and rattled.

  Most of the tables were now filled with people, young and old, all waiting to be served. In the Academy’s dining hall, a legion of orphans rushed through the kitchen doors with plates heaped with food. Yet what arrived at their own table looked nothing like what was being served to the students. Instead it was gray slop, two pieces of cardboard-looking bread, and slimy wet liver. Grim covered his mouth and Rudy looked like she was going to hurl.

  By the time the last of the plates was served, Grim wasn’t sure he could hold on to what little was in his stomach. And he was almost positive the slop on his plate had just moved of its own accord. Even Aunt Patrice’s liver would have been considered a delicacy in comparison.

  The rest of the orphans dug in immediately.

  Grim barely picked at the slop on his plate as Dorian burped throughout the meal. He waited for Aunt Patrice to come stomping in and scold the
Gargoyle for such rude behavior, but no such thing happened. Instead the old woman sat quietly at her table with some other instructors, or Tutors, as they were called, delicately nibbling at her meal and ignoring the ruckus among the orphans in the kitchen as if all was perfectly normal. Even when some of the Gargoyles passed gas and a foul stench wafted across the room, everyone just continued eating ― though Grim did catch some of the orphans plugging their noses from time to time. Sam giggled incessantly.

  When Dorian finished his third helping, he pushed his plate away and offered up another generous belch.

  He advised them to wait until the students had mostly departed before leaving.

  “Sometimes extra orphans are required to help clean up,” he said.

  When that didn’t seem necessary, they slipped through the corridors back to the dilapidated half of the building where they hovered in the doorway of a haphazardly decorated room. At its center was a lifeless stone hearth. Scattered about were a few fur-covered chairs and sofas, almost all of them falling apart. Two mechanical clocks that didn’t tell the same time barely managed to cling to the wall. Paintings of stuffy old people riddled the space, mostly crooked. Rudy stepped in and adjusted them, but they slid back into their tilted position after she walked away.

  A number of children were playing a game with large cards. Some of them were human, the others were not — half machine, half something-else. All of them wore goggles and Grim and the others followed suit. He looked around the room, but none of the Unseen were there.

  Grim and the others lingered near the door until one of them motioned for them to enter.

  “Do you know how to play Mystic’s Switch?” she squeaked. She was a creature with wings about the size of Grim’s hand and somewhat fairy-like in her appearance. Her mechanical half made it difficult for her to fly, so she nearly crashed into Grim’s shoulder rather than alighting on it.

  “No,” Grim replied. He nearly swatted her off like a bug.

  “My name is Helia,” she screeched.