Clockwork Twist : Waking (5 page)

“I'll handle the food supplies,” Capt. Davis said. “Arabel, do we need anything for the rigging or sails?”

“It's all fine now,” she said with a shrug. “I'll get some more rope, just in case, but we have enough canvas to keep the sails strong for a long while.”

“Thank you,” Capt. Davis said, already heading away.

“Come along, Twist,” Arabel said, slipping her finger through a button hole at the edge of his sleeve, “you're with me.”

Twist let Arabel lead him deeper into the crowds, with a resigned sense of helplessness.  After slipping past countless moving bodies, Arabel made a happy sound and hurried her pace, heading for one of the buildings.  She almost ran up the steps, and then stopped at a landing under an arch of stone filigree, before a huge wooden door.

“We have to stop here,” she said to Twist, who was out of breath from the run.

“Oh thank heaven,” he muttered. “What is this place?”

Arabel let go of his sleeve to push the door open.  The building was many leveled, with railed walkways around a central open space that was filled with dust motes and streaming sunlight.  Books filled every wall in tall cases that reached to the ceiling, and sat in neat rows on high shelves that took up most of the bottom floor.  A dome of glass made up most of the ceiling, spilling warm sunlight into the air with the help of the few thin, tall windows that stole some space from the bookshelves.

“It's the library,” Arabel said, her voice suddenly lower in the muffled quiet inside the building.  Once the door closed, the chaos outside was dimmed considerably. “It's not very crowded today, is it?” she said with a smile in her voice.  Looking around, Twist found no one else in sight but an elderly librarian behind a tall desk, who peered at them critically over the edge of her half-moon glasses.

Arabel took him up two floors, and into the back of the building.  There, beside a window that looked out onto a vista over the edge of the flying city and down to the sea below, she stopped and ran her finger over the titles of the books on the shelf.  She pulled her mask up to see better.

“Here it is,” she said, pulling one of the books out. “This is where I first found out about the clockwork princess,” she said, holding the open book out to Twist.  He pulled his mask down to hang around his neck.

The pages looked ages old, gilded and painted brightly in a style that reminded Twist instantly of flying carpets and magical lamps.  The image, however, was deeply familiar to him.  Taking the book, Twist gazed down at the drawing of the clockwork princess, dancing in her palace atop the mountains of the world.

As his fingers touched the page, his mind washed over with the tale in one beautiful, bittersweet, wave; the loving father who brought people from all over the world to entertain her, the jealousy of the suitors as she grew older and more lovely, the arrow that was meant for her protective father and instead struck her heart as she leaped to save him, the puppet maker from far away who built a metal puppet to contain her dying soul, the happily-ever-after in her new clockwork body as she danced forever in the sunlight on the highest mountains in the world.

“That book has such wonderful pictures,” Arabel said, “and the story is written so well that I got a clear enough image to find her when I read it.”

“How
did
you find her?” Twist asked, looking up to Arabel.

“Well,” she said, smiling at him smugly, “you're not the only one with a gift, you know.”

Twist's eyes opened wide.

“I can find things,” Arabel said with a shrug. “If I can get a solid idea of what I need, and I concentrate on it, then I just … know where to find it.  That's how I found you, too.”

“I wondered why you came to me,” Twist said, thinking back.

“Once we got to Nepal and saw the state of the clockwork puppet,” Arabel explained, “I knew we would need someone with great skill to fix her properly.  So, I focused on the problem, opened my Sight, and suddenly I just knew.  I knew your name, where you were, and that if you touch something that's damaged, you can see the cause.  That's what makes you so good at fixing things.  I knew you would be able to fix her.”

“You learned all that?  Just through your Sight?”

“Well, that was all I got, actually,” she said. “I usually get just enough information to find what I need, and nothing else.”

“Your Sight seems very pleasant,” Twist said softly.

Arabel watched him silently for a moment before she spoke again. “When did you first notice yours?” she asked. “Did it shock you the first time?  Or was it always there?”

“I was always good at fixing things,” Twist said.  There was a small seat placed against the window, so he sat as he considered his answer. “I got better and better at it as I got older.  After a while, I started to see clear visions with sounds and emotions.  By the time I was old enough to read and write, I could hardly stand to touch people anymore.”

“Is that because the visions were too strong?” Arabel asked, leaning back against the railing in front of him.

“The emotions are overwhelming,” Twist said, shaking his head, his eyes focused on his thoughts. “The first thing I see when I touch something is what caused any problems in it.  If it's a clock or a simple machine, then it's fine.  But people…”  He looked up at her. “Everyone is broken, in one way or another.  Whenever I touch people, I see exactly why.  I feel it like it’s happening to me.”

“So, when Zayle touched you,” Arabel began.  Twist looked away from her quickly. “But, what if nothing's wrong?” she asked, bending her head to catch his gaze again. “What happens if you touch something that isn't broken?”

“Then it's random,” Twist answered. “Sometimes I don't see anything at all.  Otherwise, I see a random memory associated with the item, or I'm just completely aware of how it works.”

“But, the boiler on the
Vimana
,” Arabel said, thinking back.

“Was very angry,” Twist said, finishing her thought. “Big, powerful machines have a lot of pride and anger in them.”

“Machines have emotions?”

“Of course,” he answered. “They have heartbeats, they breath.  Why wouldn't they?”

“I never thought about it like that.  Sure, the clockwork princess is supposed to be alive, but a wall clock with feelings?  It just sounds strange to me.”

“But being able to find anything you need just by thinking about it is perfectly normal?”

“Absolutely,” Arabel said brightly. “Nothing more natural in the world.”

“They say that there are many of us,” Twist said. “But I've never met anyone else, before.”

“Oh, I've met loads,” Arabel said with a flip of her hand. “You need to get out more, my dearie,” she added with a playful wink.  Twist's mouth twitched against the taste of the pet name. “Sights are becoming a normal quality these days.  Still, it seems that each new Sight is unique.  I've never met anyone with the same kind as mine.”  She frowned slightly, staring at Twist for a moment. “But yours does sound familiar.”

“It does?” he asked. “You've met someone with my Sight?”

“Well, not exactly.” She came closer and took a seat in the window beside him.  Twist shifted away slightly. “My brother is much like you,” Arabel said, holding his gaze with eager eyes. “His Sight is so strong that it's become a problem for him.  He couldn't stand to look at anyone anymore by the time he left.”

“He can't look at people?”

“When he looks at things,” Arabel said, “I mean, when he concentrates on something, he can eventually understand them completely.  If it's a machine, he can use it as easily as if he'd invented it himself.  Oh, he loves watching the sky too.  He used to tell me the name of any star I pointed out.  But, like you, it worked with people too.  When he looked into someone's eyes, he could see things about them.  He told me that he started to get visions of them as well, in different places, and he thought that some of them might have been future events.”

“Some of us can see the future?” Twist asked, wonder blooming on his face.

“They say that some can,” Arabel said, smiling with a nod. “It's still very rare, and apparently very difficult.  Like it is for Jonas,” she added with a heavy sigh. “As he got older, and his Sight grew stronger, he started to fear it because it was so hard on him.  He said that the visions were so clear that they hurt.  People were the worst.  Eventually he stopped looking at people at all.”

“What happened to him?” Twist asked. “You said he left?”

“He joined another crew,” Arabel said, her eyes full and distant. “A rival of ours.  Thieves and cheats.  We had a horrible fight, and he left the
Vimana
.  A month later, we found him on their crew.  Now I only see my brother on the other side of a fight,” she added, as if trying to make it sound like a joke.  Twist listened silently, wondering what it might be like to have a brother.

“Well, let's carry on, shall we?” Arabel said suddenly, standing up with a smile on her face.  “It's Carnival and I want to have fun,” she said, pulling her mask back into place.

After Twist and Arabel left the library, they continued on to finish their errand.  They met Zayle again when the sun started to fall.  Unbelievably to Twist, the city became even more crowded and the festivities even more energetic as the darkness grew.  Parties poured out of houses and common buildings with their golden light and music.  Dances sprang into existence wherever there was room on the streets and plazas.  Wines of all types found their way into every glass, and the volume of all conversation grew to such a constant din that Twist gave up trying to speak at all.

Thanks to Zayle's diligence, Twist drank enough to give up complaining as well.  Leaning over an empty spot of ivy covered balustrade, Twist looked out over the world far below, as the moon rose into a velvet sky.  Though his vision swam when he looked straight down to the terrestrial section of Venice—glowing now with golden fires and lamps in its own version of the carnival spirit—the height didn't bother him anymore.

“Are you having fun yet?” Aazzi's voice asked, stepping beside him while Zayle and Arabel danced together in the crowd behind them.

“This is my version of fun,” Twist said, gesturing to the vista.

“I thought you didn't like heights,” Aazzi said.

“I don't,” Twist said thoughtfully. “I think Zayle might have gotten me a bit drunk after all.  Either way, I just don't care at the moment.”

“Good,” Aazzi said, her smile apparent in her voice, though it was hidden behind her moon shaped mask. “Then I don't have to bite you.”

Twist looked to her and narrowed his eyes. “Didn't you want to?  I mean, isn't that how you eat, after all?”

“You probably wouldn't taste very good.”

“Why not?” Twist asked, suddenly affronted.

Aazzi laughed. “You haven't lived enough yet, little one.  But if you keep going to carnivals and traveling around the world to bring myths back to life, I'm sure you'll be very tasty in no time.”

“Naturally,” Twist said. “I'm sure I'd already taste good now...”

Aazzi's form stilled suddenly, growing tight and poised in such a flash that it startled Twist.  She pulled her mask away and turned slowly, looking over the crowd behind them with intent eyes.

“What is it?” Twist asked, seeing nothing changed in the crowd.

“I smell something,” Aazzi said, her voice almost as soft as his. “We have to leave.  Now.”

“I don't smell anything,” Twist muttered, still searching over the masked crowd.  Aazzi took hold of the cloth at his collar again, pulling his face close to hers.  Twist's numbed mind cleared sharply, feeling her breath on his skin, and he instantly pulled at her grip.

“Listen to me,” Aazzi said, her voice still low. “There are dangerous people here.  If they find us, they'll steel your lovely little clockwork girl away and sell her for parts.”

“That's monstrous!” Twist gasped.

“Don't look at anyone, and come with me, quietly,” Aazzi said, releasing his collar to grab his sleeve, and heading into the crowd.

Twist hurried to keep up with her, his heart beating quickly.  His vision still swam slightly from the wine, but he kept his footing as he carefully made his way through the dense crowds at Aazzi's heels.  As they walked, a small buzzing sensation began to tingle at the base of his neck, growing stronger and taking on a high, electrical whine.  Twist shook his head to try to clear the strange sensation, but it grew steadily, all the same.

Without explanation, Twist's head turned sharply—as if on its own—and his eyes stuck on a single figure in the crowd.  Black-lensed goggles were pulled off eyes so like Arabel's that for a moment in his confusion, Twist thought that it was her.  The moment Twist's eyes fell on the stranger's, his senses flashed to a burning hot brightness that blinded him for an instant.  The buzzing sensation at the base of his neck exploded through his veins like a lightning strike, before disappearing all together.  Twist fell to the ground, gasping to catch his breath as his senses flooded back to him.

“Twist, are you all right?” Aazzi was asking, standing beside him.

“I tripped,” Twist said, standing quickly. “I'm fine,” he said, wondering why he felt so deeply that he needed to lie.

“Come along,” Aazzi said, scanning the masked faces in the crowd but not apparently seeing what she was looking for.  Twist looked back to the figure he'd seen, but now it was gone.  He began to wonder if the person had been real at all, as they continued on.

“Ara,” Aazzi called, beckoning Arabel and Zayle closer as they danced together.

“What is it?” Arabel asked. “Want to cut in?”

“Quay is here,” Aazzi said quickly.  Arabel pulled her mask off, her face mirthless and intent while Zayle turned quickly to look around. “I'm taking George, here, back to the ship,” she said, nodding to Twist. “It's getting late.  Go find the others.”  Zayle and Arabel nodded.

“Come on, George,” Aazzi said to Twist, taking hold of his sleeve.  Twist was understandably confused about the sudden change in his name, but he remained silent and let her lead him on.

After a rather long walk through the throngs of party goers, they finally made it back to the docks and onto the ship.  Aazzi took Twist up to the open third deck.

“Your name is George, you're my husband's nephew and the ship's cabin boy,” Aazzi whispered to him quickly. “No matter who asks you, that's who you are.”

“Sure, why not?” Twist asked dryly. “Who are you looking for?” he asked, pulling his mask off to see better.

“A captain named Quay, and his crew,” she said, pulling her mask off too.  Twist was slightly startled to see the intensity of her grim expression.  She drew a small pistol from the back of her bodice and directed Twist to sit on the low railing behind the ship's helm.  She stood before him, watching over the rest of the ship, and the docs beyond, from her vantage point.

“Who is he?” Twist asked.

“A cut-throat pirate,” Aazzi said as if the words tasted bad.

“And you're a nice sort of pirate?” Twist asked casually.

“I don't cheat or steal against my own kind,” she said, her silver eyes electric and cold when they snapped onto his. “And at the moment, I'm protecting you, by the way.”

“And right well that you do,” Twist said, crossing his arms. “If I were killed by cut-throat pirates, my mother would just about kill Uncle ...”

“Philippe,” Aazzi said, bitterly.

“Uncle Philippe, yes,” Twist said. “I'm drunk, not stupid, Aunt Aazzi.”

“I think I like you better sober, after all,” Aazzi said.

Before Twist could retort, Arabel and Zayle returned with Capt. Davis and Dr. Rodés.  They all boarded the ship quickly and Zayle disappeared instantly down the stairs to the engine room.  Arabel began to climb into the rigging the moment she was aboard.  Aazzi brought Twist to join the captain.

“Well, what say we call it a night?” Capt. Davis said, looking over the edges of the ship.

“I don't sense anyone near,” Aazzi said, keeping her voice low.

“Better safe than sorry,” Capt. Davis said. “George, I think it's time you went to bed,” he said to Twist.

“I'll see him to his room,” Dr. Rodés said. “Can't have him walking into things in his state,” he said, adjusting the fit of the five-shot revolver in his hand.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Capt. Davis said.

Dr. Rodés said nothing else to Twist until he had led him all the way back to his cabin, had shut the door behind him, and had looked out both windows.

“Did you tell anyone that you were leaving London, or where you were going?” he asked Twist, stowing his pistol under his coat.

“Who are you asking?” Twist asked. “George or Twist?”

“Don't be a fool,” Dr. Rodés snapped. “Did you say anything about this trip to anyone in London?  Anything at all?”

“No,” Twist answered, sitting heavily on the closed chest against the wall. “I didn't speak to anyone after Arabel came to see me.”

“It might not even seem important,” Dr. Rodés said. “Did you say hello to anyone on the street, or tell the milkman that you weren't going to be round?”

“I didn't speak to a human soul after Arabel came to see me,” Twist said. “I usually don't anyway.  Why?  Who is this pirate, Quay, and what makes him so dreadful?  You all seem terrified of him.”

“We're concerned,” Dr. Rodés said. “We're not scared of that lowlife.  He's a thief and a scoundrel.  He's tried to steal finds from us before, and he's succeeded a few times, too.”

“Aazzi said he and his crew would try to steal the clockwork princess if they found us.  Does that mean he already knows about her?”

“I don't know,” Dr. Rodés said. “He might not know anything.  We're just being careful because this find is much bigger than our usual ones.  Arabel really outdid herself this time,” he added with a bitter touch to his words. “But if Quay finds out what we're up to, he'll definitely try to steal her from us,” he said. “That man's greed knows no bounds.”

“That would be bad,” Twist said, his mind still too numb for anything more eloquent.

“Yes, very,” Dr. Rodés agreed.

“So, what do we do now?” Twist asked.  As if in answer, the soft rumble of the engines began to pulse through the wood of the ship.

“We're going to try to slip away,” Dr. Rodés said. “If they haven't spotted the
Vimana
yet, then they'll never know we were here.”

“And if they have spotted it?”

“We'll keep a good watch, and blow holes in any ship we catch following us,” Dr. Rodés said with a smirk.

“Right, because you're nice pirates,” Twist said, “now I remember.”

“Who said we were pirates at all?” he asked back.

“Whatever,” Twist said with a dismissive wave.

Though he grumbled to himself a bit in what sounded to Twist like French, the doctor left it there.  It was only a moment before the
Vimana
threw off her moorings and left Venice at top speed, flying silently through the night.