The Clockwork Fairy Kingdom

by Leah Cutter

  “A bracelet,” Nora said, frowning at the piece in front of her. “If I can figure out how to twist the knots, first this way, then that...”

  Denise left Nora alone, recognizing that she’d get little cooperation from her daughter while a crafting problem took up her attention.

  In the office, Denise pulled out the divorce papers. She’d never go back to Chris. Yet, filing the papers meant the formal end to her marriage, and that made her sad. Though she’d asked for child support from Chris, she really wanted nothing to do with him.

  Still waiting in the drawer sat the restraining order paperwork. Denise wanted it ready, just in case. She knew she should file it as well.

  Sighing, Denise put the paperwork away. Thinking about Chris was actually more difficult than billing her clients. She told herself again that Dale was fine, that she had nothing to worry about, before she started putting her plan into action, determining the late and near-late bills, and firing off letters.

  Dale didn’t get home until just before dinner. Nora had told Denise to go ahead and order the pizza, that Dale would get home before it arrived. She acted just as dismissive as she had that afternoon, but Denise could tell she was worried.

  Denise heard the front door open and shut, bringing her attention back from her work. “Dale?”

  Her son’s head popped in the door. “Hey. Pizza tonight? I’m starving.”

  “Where have you been?” Denise asked, trying not to sound accusatory.

  “Didn’t Nora mark me out? Jeez. Nora!” Dale called, storming away.

  “Dale, come back here,” Denise said, turning off her computer.

  “Yeah?” Dale’s head popped back around the edge of the door.

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Dale slowly shuffled into the office, hands stuffed into the pockets of his shorts. “I was out,” he said, addressing the tops of his shoes.

  “Where?” Denise asked. This wasn’t like Dale. What was wrong?

  “At the beach.”

  “Alone?”

  Dale barely shook his head.

  Denise finally realized why Dale was acting so strangely: He was shy. “Who were you with?” she asked gently.

  “Adele,” Dale murmured. “She’s this girl I met.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “Down the road,” Dale said, jerking his head.

  “I’d like to meet this Adele,” Denise said.

  Dale looked up, his eyes wide. “No! Not yet. She’s shy, and Nora, and—” He shook his head. “Not yet.”

  Denise sighed. Of the pair of them, Dale had always been more sensitive. She’d read once that while women feared death, men feared being laughed at. That certainly was true of her twins: Dale had always taken teasing much harder than Nora. “All right,” Denise said. “Not this week.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Dale said, obviously relieved. “Pizza?” he asked, hopefully.

  As if in response, the front door chimed.

  Both Nora and Dale talked excitedly over dinner about their summer plans. Nora had several knitting and knotwork projects, while Dale had some clockwork he was repairing. He didn’t mention Adele, and Nora seemed to know not to tease him about it.

  At the end of dinner, Denise told the kids, “I have some news.” She’d been surprised that Dale hadn’t asked about her appointment. She’d excused him, though—he was too caught up in his new crush.

  Both twins looked at her with the same expression of impatient waiting.

  “I saw the cardiologist today—”

  “That’s right!” Dale said. “How did it go?”

  “She’s afraid there’s something wrong with the battery in my pacemaker. It has to be replaced.”

  “Is that why you’ve looked so pale recently?” Dale asked.

  “Probably,” Denise admitted. “I should have listened to you and gone in earlier.”

  “Is it serious?” Dale asked, kicking his sister under the table.

  Denise chose her words carefully. “The battery needs to be replaced.”

  “What does that mean?” Nora asked, suddenly concerned.

  “Friday night you’ll be on your own,” Denise told her. “Eli, our landlord, volunteered to look after you two for the night.”

  “Can’t we stay with you in the hospital?” Dale asked. “What if something goes wrong?” Dale and Nora exchanged worried looks.

  “The operation is in the afternoon,” Denise assured them. “They only want to keep me overnight for observation. Really, it isn’t a serious procedure. They won’t even put me to sleep.”

  “Promise?” Nora asked.

  “Yes, I promise,” Denise told her. Normally, Dale was the one who first asked for such reassurances. This Adele must have upset Nora more than she was letting on.

  After dinner, they agreed to watch a movie together. While Denise made popcorn, she heard Nora ask, “Did you see Adele?”

  “She’s wonderful, Nora,” Dale whispered back.

  Smiling, Denise decided that Eli should come stay with them for the evening, instead of uprooting the kids and sending them to his place for two days. She didn’t want to tear the two new lovebirds apart.

  ***

  Adele still couldn’t believe her luck as she flew against the evening winds back to her kingdom after leaving Dale on the road. Not only had she found the human Tinker on the road, unprotected by his sister, the Maker, he’d also given her his name, instead of merely something to call him by. Humans had forgotten too much about fairies and their ways, as well as the power of names. He’d also accepted the enchanted stone she’d given him just before he left. It would bind his tongue, should he be tempted to spill her secrets.

  Tinker blood ran true in the boy. Even though he was a human, he had more talent in one little finger than all of Thaddeus’ apprentices combined. Of course, he hadn’t been able to fix the machine that day. He’d seemed disappointed Thaddeus had left no notes. While fairies could read and write, they rarely found the need to do so. Still, he quickly learned the flow of the machine, needing little guidance from Adele. He’d sketched out a series of special gears the final motion works would take, telling the Queen shyly that he had some jeweled bearings from his Grandpa Lewis that he’d like to use as well.

  When Adele reached the abandoned cottage, she didn’t fly straight in. Instead, she flew around the house, three times clockwise, strengthening the illusion. She’d only stretched the truth earlier when she’d been talking with Dale. She didn’t like the mess necessary to keep most humans away. However, the house had also disturbed her. The illusion had grown hollow. The damn dwarf had weakened it. So Adele solidified the glamour, giving the house a much more haunted feeling. Only the very brave or stupid would risk the teeth of the door handle now. The Tinker’s sister, the Maker, also wouldn’t willingly cross the threshold—the house would repel her, disturb her in ways she wouldn’t understand.

  With a wave of her hand, Adele opened the door and flew down the staircase. Around and around she spiraled, laughing and feeling deliciously dizzy. She shot out of the tunnel and up into the sky, over the rooftops, as daring as any young warrior after her first kill.

  Finally, Adele returned to the palace. The fairies from the southern kingdom stood in the garden, easy to spot in their traditional dress, as gaudy and joyous as the flowers. Adele remembered that she’d been neglecting them for too long.

  “I see you are as happy as we are today,” Gaurung said, stepping forward and bowing. When he straightened he towered over Adele: All the southern fairies were much taller than the ones in her court. He had a round, dark face with a mobile mouth that easily smiled. His dark eyes, though, always remained cool. The other fairies all held similar expressions, caught between happiness and cool calculation.

  Adele tried to contain herself and conduct herself as the court thought a queen should. “Yes,” she said breathlessly. “You remember our grand project?”

  “The great barrier, yes? That stan
ds between you and the humans? We’ve been most interested in learning more about this.”

  “The project had some...complications. But it’s all coming together!”

  “Very good! Very good indeed.” Gaurung nodded.

  Adele had wanted to go straight back to Thaddeus’ workshop, to bask in the marvel of the boy’s work. However, she also remembered her duty to her guests. “Would you like to see the factory?” Adele asked, thinking this was now the best time for such a tour. “I’ve been meaning to ask you for days. But with the king’s death, things have been complicated.”

  “We would be honored,” Gaurung said, bowing.

  Adele instantly bounded back up into the air. When she looked back down, Gaurung was exchanging looks with his companions. She belatedly remembered that royals didn’t like to fly as much as warriors—something about their wings not being as strong. Still, at least half a dozen of the southern fairies took to the air gracefully, their expansive wings filling the sky. A few stayed behind. Adele wondered if they had problems flying.

  At the entrance of the factory, Adele dropped gracefully to the ground, landing on the stone path. She waited as the royals landed, shaking their wings and grinning at each other. They’d seemed to enjoy their short flight. “This factory is where the apprentices that have successfully passed their qualifications make the gears we need for the great machine.”

  “Where do you get the raw materials?” Reena asked. She was the shortest of the southern fairies, and also the most fair, with golden hair and skin. Only glitter covered her chest, and a gauzy silver skirt barely covered her below her waist.

  “We scavenge most of it,” Adele said proudly. “Warriors go out into the world to find the spare silver, copper, and brass.”

  The royals looked impressed. Adele remembered that the royals didn’t like to go outside as often as the warriors, too.

  A sorting area stood just inside the heavy wooden door. Many of the items in Kostya’s caves had found their way here, not that Adele was about to admit that to the foreign fairies. Let them think this was their usual bounty. Neatly formed piles crowded the wooden floor. “You see this wire,” Adele said, pointing to the large heap. “It’s been separated and found useful. It’s waiting to be straightened, or perhaps braided, to make it stronger.” She moved to the next pile. “Much of the metal we find is too small to be useful. These are already sorted metals, going to the furnace to be resmelted.”

  “Do you have blacksmiths?” asked one of the fairies—Adele thought her name was Savit. She was dark like Gaurung, tall, with eyes that held great cunning. She was much more modestly dressed than Reena, with a man’s jacket and a skirt that fell to her knees.

  “Yes,” Adele said, curious. “Don’t you?”

  Gaurung stepped forward. “We’ve lost many of the old skills. Only a few new skills have replaced them.” He flexed his wings, the streamers hanging from them stirring.

  Adele glanced at them, distracted for a moment. Then she looked closer. While the royals of the southern kingdom wore the older, more traditional fairy clothes—short skirts, tightly fitting jackets, and streamers in their wings—she finally realized the materials weren’t old-fashioned. The iridescent glow of the material didn’t come from spiderwebs and woven moonbeams but from plastic and human chemicals. She turned and looked at Reena and the others. None of them wore cloth like her court.

  “It’s why we came here,” Savit said, staring hard at Adele.

  Adele bristled at the implication: Did the southern fairies consider her kingdom old-fashioned?

  Gaurung added, “As well as to see what new things you’ve learned. So this metal—it’s sorted, then resmelted, you said?”

  “Yes,” Adele said, only slightly mollified. “Brass, copper, and steel. All can be reused.” She escorted them into the next room.

  The apprentices hadn’t come in, as the period of mourning was still in effect. Their machines, gears, and spare parts littered the workbenches that lined the walls. Stools of carved wood and red leather seats stood scattered around the room.

  “Before an apprentice is allowed in the factory, she has to demonstrate not just skill, but creativity. They must make their own gear cutter, to the master Tinker’s specifications,” Adele explained.

  The royals muttered to themselves. “The level of care you’re taking with every step is remarkable,” Gaurung said to Adele. “Amazing craftsmanship. We’ve lost so many of these skills, so much of this pride in workmanship. Truly amazing.”

  Adele beamed. Maybe the southern kingdom could be useful allies, someday. If they didn’t decide to go to battle and try to take her kingdom for themselves, that was. She continued leading them through the factory, through the polishing rooms, pointing out the lathes used for making all the screws and bushings, as well as the scales used to accurately measure the weights for all pendulums.

  “Queen Adele,” Gaurung said as they walked back to the palace. “This effort of yours, this barrier between you and the humans. Your people have sacrificed a great deal to bring it to life.”

  “It will be wonderful!” Adele said, skipping and clapping her hands.

  Gaurung smiled at her condescendingly.

  With a sigh, Adele went back to walk demurely beside him. Royals didn’t express themselves the same as warriors. Though Adele had been in the court for most of her long life, she still felt like a warrior. Particularly now that Thaddeus’ steadying influence was gone.

  “Is that all it will do?” Savit asked, using that disapproving tone of hers.

  Was Savit taunting Adele? She looked at the other fairies. They all wore similar expressions of exaggerated patience, like a parent waiting for an over-excited child. Did they still look down at her kingdom’s handmade things and quaint crafts? Adele would show them. “Of course not,” she scoffed.

  The visitors from the southern kingdom looked at her expectantly.

  “Why should I tell you?” Adele asked.

  “We know you are more than you seem,” Gaurung said slowly. “You are a warrior, yet you’re also a queen. Your kingdom is falling apart, yet your people willingly follow you, trust that your plans will lead them to glory.”

  Adele preened. She knew that the servants understood why she was demanding such sacrifices. She would lead them to such a grand life.

  “We promise you that your secrets are safe with us. Just between our two courts.”

  Adele looked at the other southerners. They all seemed sincere, their eyes open and honest for the first time. She knew she couldn’t trust them. But she wanted to tell someone since she no longer had Thaddeus to share such secrets. “If you tell anyone in my court, I will kill you. And your families,” she promised, smiling grimly, showing her warrior-sharpened teeth.

  “Not a word. To anyone,” Gaurung promised, his wide mouth showing his serious intent.

  Adele nodded, thinking. It was a calculated risk bringing them into her plans. They could be her representatives, carrying the news south once the machine was turned on. She moved closer to Gaurung so she could speak softly. The other fairies gathered around her. “It won’t just repel the humans. It will cripple their machines.”

  Gaurung looked quizzically at her. “That would certainly encourage them to leave you alone. However, wouldn’t their scientists come, then? To learn why? It seems rash to expose yourself that way.”

  “Not if we attack them first,” Adele said. “Drive them away, ahead of us.”

  “To what end?”

  “To leave this underground tomb!” Adele replied. “To have the skies free. To hunt, and have pride again.”

  “My Lady,” Gaurung said, standing up straighter. “What an audacious plan!”

  Adele realized she’d never heard any of the southern fairies address her with such respect before. Even Savit looked impressed.

  “If there’s anything you need, anything at all that we can do to help, let us know,” Gaurung said earnestly.

  Adele beamed at them
. Maybe their two kingdoms could form an alliance. Together, they’d defeat all the humans in the New World, then return to the Old Country and do it again.

  ***

  Robert watched the final race, his heart beating so loudly he thought everyone could hear it. It had been a small bet, but it had paid out big. He backed slowly out of the group of men standing around the big flat screen TV in the living room and went over to the “cages”—really just a closet under the stairs. The old man behind the wooden bars grinned at him, nodding his balding head and sucking at his dentures. “Good luck today. Really good luck.” He counted out the money once, handing it to his unseen partner, who counted it again before sending it out the small hole in the door to Robert.

  The money felt hot in Robert’s hands. He fanned out the bills for a moment before he remembered where he was. He folded them up and tucked them into three different pockets, throwing looks over his shoulder, up the long, dark staircase. The big bosses sat up there. He didn’t want to be called upstairs, not ever.

  Robert made it outside without being stopped; then he paused, fighting with himself. He wanted to make another bet—needed it. However, he knew that if he went back in, he wouldn’t leave until every penny was gone. He’d made it out, now he needed to keep walking. He still heard the TVs inside blaring the scores. He didn’t let himself turn around. Large, smelly dumpsters hulked next to the buildings. Robert cautiously made his way between them, only breathing freely when he’d reached the sidewalk.

  Clueless tourists paraded up and down Main Street, oohing and ahhing over “local” crafts clearly made in China. Dour fishermen sold boat tours, mainly by growling at people. Perkier operators also tried to separate the masses from their money, offering bikes for rent, kites for sale, and cheap plastic beach-gear.

  Robert went to one of the big national fast food chains, certain that Chris wouldn’t surprise him there. It wasn’t the sort of establishment a “gentleman” frequented. After getting his greasy fries and watery shake, Robert took advantage of the free WiFi and AC and started making calls. He finally had the money he needed to finance his misdirection of Chris.