Chainbreaker (Timekeeper)

by Tara Sim

  Dryden, Harris, and Crosby were frazzled. It was bad enough that towers were falling and no one knew why. Now an English mechanic was missing.

  How would Danny’s parents react to the news? Or Danny’s friends?

  Or Colton?

  It was obvious now that she and Danny had been forced to split up for a reason.

  She was such an idiot.

  Taking a deep breath, Daphne tried not to wallow in those thoughts. They would find Danny. She would find him.

  At least they’d brought back his things, which had been dumped in his cantonment room. Kneeling, she opened Danny’s pack and rifled through the clothes that needed washing, the shaving gear, the jar of aloe he’d used to protect his skin from the sun. Daphne’s hand brushed a piece of paper. She drew it out and unfolded it, her breath catching. It was a drawing of Colton. Danny must have done it; she recognized his lines from the clockwork sketches in his case reports.

  A sudden sadness passed over her, and she carefully put the picture away. The look Danny had captured in Colton’s eyes was not for her to see.

  She sat on the bed and stared at the far wall. Why would they take Danny? Why would they single him out? Where would they take him? It didn’t seem real. It felt as though Danny would come strolling into the cantonment at any moment, asking why everyone was so worried.

  They needed a plan. So far, Dryden’s only idea had been to lure the terrorists with something, but what could possibly draw them out of hiding? They could have their pick of any clock tower.

  Daphne’s only contribution had been to look up the French phrase she’d read on the chapati in Lucknow: feu-de-joie. “Furious joy.” A code of some sort?

  It has to mean something. Why else would that man have gotten so angry about me seeing it?

  Her head whirled in restless circles until she was interrupted by a knock at the door. Shaking herself, she got up and answered.

  The private on the other side tipped his hat. The burnt orange sky behind him was blurred with navy blues and rich purples. “Evening, Miss Richards. Someone said I might find you here.”

  “Does the major need me?”

  “No, miss, nothing like that. There’s a messenger for you. Asked for you by name.”

  Frowning, she opened the door wider and saw a boy standing behind the private. He was dressed in the English style with a white dust-stained shirt and dark vest, his cap pulled down low so that she couldn’t see his eyes. He studied his feet, refusing to look up.

  “Is that all right, miss? Or do you want me to get an officer?”

  “No, it’s fine. What message—?”

  The boy finally met her gaze, and the words were stolen from her throat. He looked at the private, then back at Daphne, amber eyes pleading.

  “I …” She slowly cleared her throat. “Thank you, private.”

  The soldier saluted and went on his way. They waited in tense silence until he was around the corner, then Daphne frantically gestured the boy inside.

  Once in the room, she forced herself not to slam the door. When she turned around, he’d removed the cap and held it between his pale hands, hands that had once been tinted bronze.

  “Colton,” she whispered.

  He tried to smile. “Hello, Daphne.”

  “What—you—” Breathing had suddenly become difficult. She walked past him and sat on the bed before she passed out. “I’ve gone mad. The Enfield clock spirit is in India.”

  “You’re not mad. I’ve come looking for Danny.”

  “This shouldn’t even be possible. How are you—?”

  He turned around, showing her a flat, leather-covered pack on his back. “It has my central cog. A few smaller gears, too.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “Please don’t steal it again.”

  “Colton …” He turned back around, desperation filling his eyes. “You need to explain. From the beginning. How are you here, and why?”

  “The beginning? It’s a long story.”

  “I need you to tell me.” She scooted over, and he sat next to her, dropping a small pack at his feet.

  “Can’t you just tell me where Danny is?”

  “I need you to explain this first.”

  He looked up at the ceiling. “All right. From the beginning.”

  She heard it all: the attack on his tower, his trip to London, the threatening letter, the flight from England, the train ride halfway to Agra, being shot at, and the walk the rest of the way. He was dusty and weary, his voice slow and methodical, like an automaton on its last gust of steam.

  Even with all this information, even with the incredible details Colton wove into his story, she sensed that he was keeping something from her. There was a muted quality to his eyes, as if he had seen something that went beyond words.

  When he was finished, he sat watching her expectantly.

  She opened her mouth a couple of times before she found what to say. “Why would anyone attack the tower, then keep the town Stopped? Time is running freely in every other place that’s been attacked. Why not do the same to Enfield, if that’s their goal?”

  “That’s why I need to see Danny. The other part—” He searched through the pack and showed her the letters and the photo. “He’s in danger. You probably are, too. They warned me that if I didn’t come here, something was going to happen to him. I asked for him when I got here, but the men said he wasn’t available. What does that mean? Daphne, can’t I just talk to him? Where is he?”

  A lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed it away with effort. “Colton—”

  “I tried to get here as soon as I could.” He began talking faster, growing more distressed. “The note said they would do something if I didn’t come, so I—Daphne? Where is he?”

  She closed her eyes tight. “He’s missing, Colton. There was an attack, and in the commotion, he must have been taken. We don’t know where he is. I’m sorry.”

  The room was silent. She opened her eyes, afraid Colton had left. But he remained sitting beside her, absolutely still, staring at nothing. Slowly, he curled toward his knees and put his head in his hands. He had come too late.

  Daphne knew how to fix broken clocks. She didn’t know how to fix a broken spirit.

  Danny woke to the smell of kippers. For a moment, he thought he was back home, his mother fixing up a full breakfast downstairs. The thought was so comforting that he smiled into his pillow. He would have a large breakfast with his parents, drop by Cassie’s place, then drive back to Enfield.

  Enfield.

  His eyes snapped open. He touched his aching elbow, where they had wrapped a new bandage.

  Now he remembered.

  “Ah, there you are. I thought some hot food would wake you.”

  Danny sat up. He felt curiously hollow, as if all his insides had been scraped out. A woman sat in a chair beside his bed, one finger marking her place in the book she’d been reading.

  She set it down and reached for the breakfast tray at her feet, placing it before him and settling back to assess his reaction. He looked her up and down. She was middle-aged, and looked quite fit. Her light brown hair had been tied into a simple chignon, revealing an angular face with hazel-green eyes.

  “You need to eat, love,” she said. “They gave you a much higher dosage than was necessary, and you’ve been in and out for nearly two days. Poor thing, you’re too thin already.” She clucked her tongue. “Don’t worry, I gave them a tongue-lashing. Won’t happen again.”

  Danny studied the tray. Tea, toast, kippers, mushrooms. His stomach rumbled, but he was too faint to reach for any of it.

  “Who are you?” he croaked.

  “Josephine Davis. Jo for short, if you like. I’m Zavier’s aunt.”

  Danny blinked. Aunt?

  “I’ll save you some questions and explain, but only if you start eating.” She pointed sternly at the tray. Danny slowly picked up the fork and speared a mushroom. It was chewy almost to the point of being rubbery, but the flavor flooded his mouth wit
h an almost painful intensity.

  “There’s a good lad. Now, let’s see. To start with, this is my husband’s ship. He passed away a few years ago, so for the moment, it’s unregistered. Zavier’s father passed from a mining accident when he was fifteen, and his mother, my sister, is—gone.” There was a curious lilt in her voice at the word gone. “He’s been with me ever since. He’s a good boy, if a bit narrow-sighted.

  “I help pilot the ship. Zavier takes care of operations. It was just him and a few others at first—Ed and Liddy, if you met them; they’re his friends from back home—and they had to work to convince me to let them use the ship, but in the end they won me over.”

  Danny forced down a bite of kipper. “I’m not planning to join—”

  “I know, I know. That’s between you and Zavier.”

  “Then why are you here, if not to recruit me?”

  “To give you a proper welcome to the Prometheus. And to apologize for my nephew.”

  Danny took a long sip of tea, wondering what to say. She didn’t make him anxious like the others did. There were no pretenses here, no masks, no suspicion.

  “You actually believe in this cause?” he asked at last. “Destroying clock towers?”

  “I do. Zavier has always known what he’s doing, and, by God, that boy is clever. I believe him about Aetas. About all of it.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “I’m sure he’s told you about Oceana. It was like a dream, but we all saw her.” Jo’s eyes glazed over, as though recalling something far away, unreachable. “It’s a little hard to not believe in something you’ve seen with your own eyes.”

  “You realize that you’re a terrorist.”

  Jo smiled. “Call it what you will, but you can’t deny the world as we know it is changing. Nothing can ever stay exactly as it is. Best get on the wagon before it leaves you in the dust.” She picked up her book again. “Eat, love. Then I’ll take you to see Zavier.”

  Danny’s stomach had shrunk while he slept, but he ate most of the breakfast, which appeased Jo enough that she was willing to give him his clothes back. She stood facing the wall as he dressed, then turned back to hand him a comb.

  “You can have a bath today, if you like,” she said in a tone that plainly meant he needed one.

  “Thank you.” He couldn’t believe he was thanking one of them, but she’d been decent, unlike the others. No jokes, no ultimatums, no handcuffs, and best of all, no needles.

  She took him to Zavier’s office and, after a quick knock, opened the door.

  “Danny’s awake. I’ve brought him to see you.”

  Zavier had been talking to Dae, who took this as his cue to leave. The smith gave Danny a once-over as he passed.

  “Please come in, Danny. Thank you, Aunt Jo.”

  She gave him a pointed look before she closed the door, and then it was just Zavier and Danny and silence. Zavier had a metal, rod-like device in his hands. He turned it over in his fingers before setting it on the desk behind him. It looked new. Dae must have brought it to show him.

  Zavier cleared his throat. “I apologize for what happened. We won’t resort to such methods again, provided you can remain calm. If not,” he said, touching the metal rod, “we have other methods. Less harmful, but still effective. Please don’t make us use them.”

  Danny stared at the desk, eyes roaming over the strange rod and the papers Zavier had been reading. Even upside down, he could tell that one of the sheets was written in French. He saw the phrase “feu-de-joie” underlined three times.

  “I won’t make you use them,” Danny said, voice cracking with weariness, “if you tell me what’s happened to Enfield.”

  “I’ve already told you. Now, I’ve been thinking. Since you don’t believe us about Aetas, I thought we could show you, so you can better understand. We still have a little water left after Meerut and Lucknow.”

  Danny’s heart began to pound painfully fast. “You’re going to destroy another tower?”

  “Just a small one in Edava. It’s a town on the southern coast of India. The tower there is already falling apart.”

  Danny thought of Colton’s tower, and how it had been falling apart from neglect when he’d first seen it. “You can’t just knock down a tower because of that!”

  “Not because of that, Danny. Because we’re freeing time. We’ve tried using the water without resorting to this, but found the power wouldn’t take over until the influence of the clock was removed. We’re doing these people a favor. Instead of worrying about their tower Stopping, we’re liberating the people of Edava from the tower’s wretched hold on them.” Zavier’s eyes flashed. “You more than anyone should know what a liability a tower can be.”

  There were too many words begging to be yelled, too many ways he wanted to smack the self-righteous look off Zavier’s face. Breathing hard through his nose, Danny said, “I won’t help you if you do this.”

  Zavier examined him a moment. He took Colton’s small cog from his pocket, making sure Danny saw it. “If you really want to know what happened to Enfield, you’ll let us show you.”

  Danny bared his teeth. Zavier took his silence as agreement and slipped the cog from sight.

  A knock interrupted their icy standoff. The door opened to reveal Edmund.

  “Za—oh, hullo there, Danny. Sorry about the whole … well.” When Danny only glared at him, he turned to Zavier. “The others have come back. When should we detonate?”

  “In a moment.” He glanced at Danny. “Remember what I said.” He slipped the metal rod through his belt, and Danny swallowed.

  At the observation deck, joined by a couple others, Danny’s stomach flipped. Before, his view had been an ocean of gray clouds. Now, he could see the sparkling azure of the Arabian Sea below, and where it met a rocky coastline crowded with palms. A town was nestled there. Quiet. Unsuspecting.

  “Some of the others rigged up explosives we got from Dae,” Zavier explained as they took their places before the window. Danny was flanked by Zavier and Edmund, the others—Prema and the large Sikh man—positioned slightly behind, probably in case he tried to run again. His elbow throbbed, a painful reminder of how poorly that had ended for him last time.

  “Dae found a way we can detonate the explosives from a distance, but we still have to be within ten miles for the transmitter to work.” Zavier held out a hand and Edmund passed him a metallic box. Zavier opened it to reveal a control panel inside.

  A small aircraft suddenly flew out from below them, toward Edava. Danny hoped, if only for a moment, that it was someone else—someone who had seen the airship and was rushing to get help. But then he quickly realized it was the same aircraft that had rescued Zavier from the train. It must have been docked on the airship.

  Danny held his breath as the plane circled the town in the distance, as the air beneath it began to shimmer.

  “He’s dropping Aetas’s water over the tower,” Zavier explained. “It’ll soak up the time of Edava, rendering the tower obsolete.”

  The plane turned and headed back for the Prometheus.

  “Watch, Danny. This is the power of Aetas.”

  “No,” he said quickly, even as Zavier reached for a button on the control panel. “No, you can’t! Stop!”

  He tried to lunge at him, but the large Sikh man held him back. Zavier pressed the button, and at first, nothing happened. Then Danny saw a plume of wild smoke rising from the middle of the town. He lurched forward.

  “You bastard!”

  “Watch, Danny!”

  Danny was let go, and he pressed his hands to the glass. He waited for a gray dome to block the town from the world, Stopping time the way Maldon had Stopped nearly four years ago, the way Enfield had Stopped the year before.

  Nothing happened.

  A ripple ran through him, through the very air, and he could have sworn even the airship shook. Sharp, crisp, just like Khurja.

  Edava began to glow, faintly at first, and then brighter, brighter, un
til the glow disappeared with a blinding blink. People appeared along the coastline, pointing at the Prometheus. They were free. Time was still running.

  And the Edava spirit was dead.

  “We know you want to preserve the towers,” Zavier said softly. “But sometimes, you have to sacrifice what you want for what’s right. Surely you must understand. And if you don’t yet, you will.”

  Danny didn’t realize he was crying until he saw his reflection in the glass. He closed his eyes and slid to the floor, weeping for a soul he had never known, and weeping for a soul he did know. One that these people were trying to erase from his life for good.

  Daphne knew she couldn’t hide a clock spirit in her room. Nor could she hide him in Danny’s, as it was regularly cleaned by Indian servants despite not having an occupant. She thought about her options, but when she started plotting how she might smuggle Colton into the Taj Mahal, she knew she’d run out of plausible ideas.

  So she went to Captain Harris—of all the officers at the cantonment, she trusted him most—and made an uncomfortable request. “I was wondering if, perhaps, I might have access to another room. A private one that’s out of the way.”

  Harris frowned. No doubt he’d been expecting yet another request to join the search for Danny, to which she had been repeatedly told no. “You already have a room, Miss Richards.”

  “Yes, it’s just, uh …” A flush crept up her neck. “I need it to practice.”

  “Practice?”

  “Yes. I … sing. Apparently.”

  He brightened slightly. “You do?”

  “It’s the only thing that calms me. During this, um, difficult time, I’m in need of quite a bit of calming.”

  “That’s certainly understandable. But why would you require another room?”

  “Mine’s right in the middle of everything. I don’t want anyone to overhear. It’s terribly embarrassing, but if I had a room that was out of the way …”

  “Ah. Let me see what I can do.”

  After conferring with the major, he gave her the key to a room in a lonely corner of the cantonment. After all, the major said, they didn’t want her becoming hysterical during this rough patch. Daphne gritted her teeth.