Clockwork Angels: The Novel (16 page)

Owen understood, and was sad that he did.

Francesca had ascended to the platform to begin her act for the people of Ashkelon. When two unbathed pig farmer lads dared each other to climb the trapeze pole, Owen ceased his juggling routine and hurried over to stop them. “You’re not allowed to do that!”

The two young men sneered at him, “Look, he thinks he’s the Watchmaker and can lay down the rules.”

“The carnival has its own rules.” His heart pounded; he had never been in a full confrontation before. He remembered what Golson had told him, and he stood straight, not backing down, as he repeated. “You’re not allowed to climb that.”

The two pig farmers leered up at Francesca, who was stretching against the trapeze bar. Hearing Owen’s tone of voice and sensing the argument, she looked down.

One of the young men grabbed the ladder knobs and began to ascend, but Owen ran forward. “
Don’t
do that!”

“You’re not going to stop him,” said the second pig farmer.

“Yes, I am.” But with his arms full of apples and one of Tomio’s soap-bubble spheres, it was hard to muster much of an intimidating presence.

The second pig farmer rounded on him. “Not gonna take that from a carny.” Since a brawl with Owen was less daunting than climbing the trapeze pole, the first young man dropped to the ground, also closing in.

Then, like an angel gliding down from heaven, Francesca snagged a dangling rope and slid down to drop in front of them. Her voice was haughty. “I’m offended. Isn’t my performance enough to hold your interest? Or would you boys rather play with each other?”

The two pig farmers looked at Francesca in a way that Owen definitely did not like. One of them answered, “We’d rather wrestle with you.” He laughed with a sound that reminded Owen of the seagulls at the river docks.

Francesca gave a breezy laugh, not bothered by the comment, but Owen was furious. Why didn’t Tomio arrive like a dashing hero and chase away these unsavory men with his sword? Then again, Owen didn’t really want Tomio there—he wanted to defend Francesca himself.

He stepped forward. “That is uncalled for in the presence of a lady!” He hurled the soap-bubble sphere, which burst at the feet of the two pig farmers and doused them with foul smoke that smelled of pickles. The aroma was a considerable improvement over pig shit, but the green dye and stinging fumes set them howling in anger. As they backed away and fled into the crowd, Owen pelted them with his apples, even though Francesca yelled for him to stop. When his hands were empty, he balled his fists.

He looked up to see two blue-uniformed Regulators marching up to him. “There is a specified fine for harassing people.”

Owen pointed and blurted, “But they’re the ones harassing— they started it.” The Blue Watch captain turned, but the two pig farmers had disappeared.

“Ashkelon is their town. They are citizens of the area. You are guests.”

Francesca grabbed Owen’s arm and spoke to the Watch captain. “Just give us the citation. We’ll pay it.”

Owen caught his breath. His pulse was racing and his face felt hot. He did not regret his actions because they proved his love for Francesca; he had shown he would come to her defense, as her hero.

But to his surprise, she looked disappointed instead of starry-eyed.

Magnusson paid the fine without complaint. Tomio hurried over to make sure that Francesca was all right, and when she confirmed the story but laughed it off, Tomio seemed to worry no more about it. Golson was proud of Owen and clapped him on the shoulder hard enough to spin him around.

But why did Francesca seem to be avoiding him? Finally, after dark that night, he went to her tent, anxious to talk with her. She met him and placed her hands on her skirts and tossed her head, her raven hair long and loose. “Well, what have you got to say for yourself ?”

Owen remained tongue-tied and befuddled. “I’m sorry for whatever I did, but I don’t understand. Those young men were being cruel to you. They said terrible things. I defended your honor!”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “You don’t think I could have protected myself ?”

Owen considered this. Lavinia would never have been able to fend for herself. “I . . . I just felt so angry. Tomio wasn’t there— if he loves you, he should have come to your rescue.” He took a breath, reminded himself that Golson had told him to exude confidence. “I love you more than he does.” His heart fluttered as he said the words.

Francesca laughed. “Of course Tomio loves me.”

“So do I! I plan to prove myself. I will win your heart, and you’ll choose me over him.”

Francesca’s dark eyes widened, and her smile was warm now. She reached out to wrap her arms around him, and Owen didn’t know what was happening. “Oh, you silly fool! Tomio is my brother.”

Owen thought his knees might buckle, but Francesca was holding him, and he embraced her back. She kissed him on the mouth, and it was even more wonderful than the first time on his birthday. And the next kiss was better still.

She led him into her tent.

T
he next day of traveling brought them to the outskirts of Crown City, and their excitement built with the upcoming summer solstice performance for the Watchmaker. Before they arrived in the zoned city area, where they would require permits, the carnies camped in an open field near one of the steamliner rails. They would put on one last show before their grand performance in Chronos Square.

His companions were hard at work, oiling and polishing the components of the Ferris wheel and the whirling rides, topping off the hydraulics in all the machinery, wiping down the game apparatus, repainting the gypsy fortune teller’s red booth. The equipment had to be spotless, every act flawless for the solstice show. The Watchmaker would expect nothing less. From the way César Magnusson spoke of the Watchmaker, it was as if he had some sort of personal affinity for the carnival.

While the carnies were focused on the grand show, Owen found it hard to concentrate. He wandered around carrying a stack of freshly printed broadsheets to celebrate the Chronos Square performance, but found no place to post them. He didn’t realize that his giddy mood was so obvious to the others until Tomio and Louisa stopped him.

The bearded lady sounded sincere and caring. “Be careful you don’t get in over your head, Owenhardy.” He didn’t know what she was talking about.

“It’s not his
head
he’s thinking with.” Tomio let out a goodnatured snort. “Francesca is my sister, and I know her well. Take care for your own sake. She’s one of us—independent, full of life, passionate. Don’t expect her to think like a girl from a quiet, small town.”

Owen grinned, unable to help himself. He couldn’t disagree with Tomio’s characterization of her as
passionate
. “Francesca . . .”

Letting out a concerned sigh, Louisa shook her head. “I doubt there’s anything we could say that’ll reach him.” Tomio shrugged, and they left him to wander about with his broadsheets. He paid little attention to what they had said to him, and in less than an hour he forgot the conversation had even occurred.

Owen came upon César Magnusson sitting outside the carnival’s main office tent, poring over lists of towns, marking destinations on a map of Albion. He joined the ringmaster, curious to look at all the names of places he had never thought he would see.

“It’s been a busy season,” Magnusson said conversationally. “We have to fit in as many villages as possible before we go up the coast for winter.”

Owen studied the marked route, the list of towns Magnusson had compiled—and his heart leapt when he saw that Barrel Arbor was one of their upcoming destinations. After such a long time away and everything he had experienced, he was going to go home. He laughed out loud at the thought of seeing everyone again, and he realized that he could have everything a man could ever want.

When the ringmaster didn’t understand why he was chuckling, Owen said merely, “Yes, the Watchmaker does have a perfect plan.”

Even though the carnival was set up on the outskirts of the city, a surprisingly large crowd came out to see them. By now, every newsgraph office had carried the announcement that the Magnusson Carnival Extravaganza would perform for the summer solstice, but since most people could not get tickets for the show in Chronos Square, they came to watch this local performance instead.

Owen felt happier than he had ever been, still enchanted from his night with Francesca. Now he knew that she was, indeed, his true love. They were connected, as if magnetic field lines bound them together. Lavinia could never hold a spark to Francesca! How he had fooled himself back in Barrel Arbor.

During the afternoon performance, he walked through the carnival crowd as if floating. Even though he fumbled his apples more than usual, he laughed at himself, and his lovestruck grin was so bright and charming that no one seemed to mind.

Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed someone who looked familiar—the nameless stranger who had pulled him aboard the steamliner. Before Owen could turn, the man melted into the crowd so quickly that Owen thought he must have imagined him.

Half an hour later, though, he found Tomio, obviously unsettled. “D’Angelo Misterioso was here—the one I told you about.”

“Oh, I know who you mean! Maybe he came to see the show.”

“Maybe, or maybe he was up to no good.” Tomio’s expression was grave. “Keep alert. If you see him, come and find me.”

The rest of the show passed without incident, however, and Owen noticed very little—beyond occasional glimpses of Francesca. When she performed her act on the trapeze, he felt he was witnessing a miracle. No wonder the Watchmaker embraced perfection in all things—but had even the wise old man seen perfection to match Francesca’s?

Owen thought beyond the big show in Chronos Square. Since the carnival’s route would take him back to Barrel Arbor, like the weighty pendulum of destiny, he had so much to plan. He had the printed congratulatory card the Watchmaker had sent him in preparation for his birthday, promising him happiness. A life perfectly planned. Now, the unexpected prospect of returning home was a sign that told him all was indeed for the best.

An adult, like Owen, was supposed to become betrothed to his true love; he had never questioned that, but he had been too calm and accepting, waiting for life to happen to him. He had almost made a terrible mistake with Lavinia, because she had been there in Barrel Arbor, and the obvious choice. Fortunately, life’s roundabout journey had conspired to bring him to Francesca instead—and that was exactly what he needed.

She was engaging, independent,
alive
in a way that made Owen feel alive. She would crook her finger, beckon him across the tightrope of his own future, and he would meet her there halfway . . . not over a precipice, but high in the air. Like the Angels. He couldn’t stop smiling as he thought of the comparison.

He would walk across that tightrope for her.

Late that night, after the show had wound down and the crowds wandered home, Owen screwed up his courage, drew a deep breath. He knew what he had to do. He took out the now-dried rose that he had kept for months, and it still had a faint beautiful smell that, for him, was inextricably connected with Francesca. He found his resolve, reminding himself of what Golson had told him about confidence being his greatest weapon.