Lumière (The Illumination Paradox) (16 page)

“You’re sure that’s what’s inside there?” I say.

Her gaze lopes over my features as if assessing me. She holds her tongue as if harboring some sort of secret. “What else would it be?” she finally says.

Bottled Vapours, my bonnie arse.

“You must be the cousin.” She extends a hand.

Cousin?

“Urlick sent word I’d be meeting you.”

Word?
How? I take her hand and it falls to mush like a cold serving of oatmeal in my palm. I shudder, smelling weakness and the lack of a warm heart.

“Flossie,” she says. “I’m Urlick’s
tutor.”

Or course, the tutor. I’d almost forgotten. That explains the sudden intrusion and the lack of interference by Iris, the watchdog of the house.

“It’s Priscilla, isn’t it?” she asks.

“
Priscilla?
”

“Or do you prefer,
Prissy?”
The word hisses through her snaggled teeth.

This must be Urlick’s idea of preserving my identity. And a bad one at that. “Priscilla will be fine, thank you,” I narrow my eyes.

“Prissy it is, then,” she smirks. She turns to walk away, then turns back. “You’re an awfully pretty thing.” She eyes me sternly. “Too pretty to be any cousin of Urlick’s.”

I swallow.

“Distant?” Her bushy brows beg the question.

“Quite,” I answer, smiling.

“I see…” she hesitates and cocks her head. “Well then...It’s been a pleasure, but I’m afraid I must go and prepare for the lesson.” She nods her head. “I’m sure our paths will cross again.”

Not if I have any say.

She turns, carelessly lassoing the jar with her sleeve. My hand snaps out and catches it before it crashes to the floor.

“Oops.” She grins, bringing a hand to her mouth. “How careless of me.”

I set the jar up straight on the mantel as I stare her down.

What a diabolical pepsin salt
she
is.

She turns, brittle shoes snapping over the hardwood, making her way across the room toward the kitchen, hesitating in the doorway. She leers at me from across the study. “Forgive me, where are my manners?” she starts. “We’ll be studying advanced mathematics today, the principles of quantum physics. You’re welcome to join us, if you like.” She pulls her gloves through her hands. “Unless of course...that’s beyond your capabilities.”

“Thank you, but no.” I smile, biting my tongue for fear it will lash out and slap her upside the head. “I’ve already received an ‘A’ in that area of study. Wouldn’t want me showing Urlick up, now would we?”

Flossie’s sassy expression sours.

She whirls around and disappears into the belly of the kitchen as I fall against the mantelpiece, relieved—clumsily knocking the jar from its stand.

The pedestal bounces, then snaps. Glass splinters everywhere. The hood of the dome falls away. The mysterious grey cloud within slowly seeps from the wreckage. I back up, coughing, and cover my mouth, worried Flossie is right and it is poisonous.

I blink in disbelief as the cloud expands, then rises, steam-like, above the mantelpiece...filling in the unfinished portion of the map. I stand astounded, staring at the fog-like diorama forming before my very eyes. Three-dimensional plots of land float above the map, like a series of islands in the sky, hovering and bobbing, strung together by a series of tiny wooden bridges and rope. Below them a word slowly begins to appear, scrawled in the same loopy, Old English cursive as the rest of the map…

Limpidious

Followed by the word…

Groves

“It can’t be.” I gasp, bringing a quick hand to my mouth. “Limpidious! My father’s utopian world! It does exist!”

S
eventeen

Eyelet

“Is everything all right in there?” Flossie’s voice bounces off the kitchen cupboards. My heart rolls in my chest.

I burst into action, waving my hands through the steamy cloud to erase its details. I lunge at the floor to scoop up the glass, deposit the shards in a nearby potted plant, and kick the remains of the pedestal under the settee just as Flossie’s face graces the doorway, her brows tight in a weave.

“Is everything all right in here?” She glares at me, her eyes two grey pebbles peering out from under a thunderstorm of suspicion.

It’s only then I realize I’ve cut myself. Quickly, I throw my hands behind my back, pinching the cut with my other hand to stop the bleeding.

“I thought I heard something,” she goes on. “Like a crash.”

Her eyes scan the room and I doctor my position. Stepping to one side just enough to block the empty space on the mantelpiece, I bend my arm and lean my head into my hand playfully to further hide it. “It was nothing, really,” I stammer. “I just tripped over this.” I kick the cast-iron fireplace ornament standing next to me. The poker falls from the stand. “You see.” I bite my lip.

“Really?” She breathes, bringing a hand to her chest, her eyes narrowing to slits. “I could have sworn I heard something shatter.”

“Really?” I say, blood dripping through my fingertips.

“Eyelet!” Urlick’s voice bursts into the room, causing us both to jump.
“Eyelet! Are you there?!”
He appears in the doorway short of breath, cobwebs in his hair, his expression—formidably priceless.

“Eyelet?”
Flossie whirls around. “I thought you said your cousin’s name was Priscilla.”

Urlick pulls a hand through his sweaty curls. “It—it is!” He swallows.

Flossie’s eyes land hot on me.

The pulse triples in my wrists.

“It’s a family thing.” I step forward bravely, looping my good hand through Urlick’s arm. “Eyelet is my—
pet
name,” I say, thinking quickly. “It’s silly really,” I chortle. “But it seems my father thought me as pretty as the trim that edged my dress on the day of my christening. And so I was renamed...and it’s stuck ever since.”

Flossie twists her hands.

“Isn’t that right, Urlick?” I turn to him and swallow.

“Right,” he nods, patting my hand.

“Now that I’ve grown up, I’ve asked everyone to address me by my proper name, but from time to time, Urlick slips. We spent a lot of time together as children. Old habits die hard, I guess.”

Flossie’s expression stiffens. “I had no idea you were that close, Urlick.” Her head cranks around, catching Urlick up in a venomous stare. “You’ve never mentioned having a cousin
before.
Especially not one you address by a pet name.” She turns her eyes on me. “I would have thought I’d have heard of her at some point over the past two years.” She floats forward, touching Urlick’s other arm, running her fingers lightly down his sleeve. “Considering how close we’ve been.”

Urlick flinches under the weight of her touch, bolting backward as if he’s been scorched by fire. His eyes are as wide as a cornered raccoon’s. I can’t help but laugh inside.

She folds her hand over his and the hairs on the back of my neck sizzle. Though I’m not sure why. I could care less that she’s touched him.

She gazes into Urlick’s eyes, hers dancing scantily beneath painted lashes. Running her fingers in provocative lines across her chest, she glances at me to see if I’ve noticed.

I noticed.

Not that I care.

I don’t.

Do I?

“Well, shall we get started then?” Flossie tips her chin toward Urlick. “I see Iris has lunch prepared.” She raises a hand to primp her hair, staring me down out of the corner of her eye. “After all, we’ve only so much time together.” She tightens her grip on his hand.

“Are you coming?” Urlick says, looking back over his shoulder as Flossie drags him through the archway into the kitchen.

“I’m not really hungry,” I lie, trying to steal some time to figure out what to do about my finger, shifting my boot over the puddle on the carpet.

Looking past Urlick, my eyes fix on a stranger, standing with his back to the wall on the opposite side of the kitchen. He’s smoking a cigarette, and his left eye is covered in a leather patch, just like the one the Brigsmen—

I gasp.

Flossie’s eyes track my gaze. “Forgive me—again with my manners. I’ve forgotten to introduce my new driver, haven’t I? Cryderman…” She turns, unfurling a hand in his direction. The stranger lifts his gaze.

It’s
him
. Smrt’s henchman. The one who chased me from my mother’s side the day she lay dying in the street. What is he doing
here?
I avert my eyes, trembling. I’ve got to get out of here. If I stay, he’ll surely recognize me. “No introduction necessary,” I blurt. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

I push past Flossie and dash up the stairs to my room. “Enjoy your studies,” I call to Urlick over my shoulder.

“What was
that
all about?” I hear Urlick say.

“I’ve no idea.” Flossie’s says. “Flighty little thing, your cousin.”

E
ighteen

Eyelet

I bury my head in my pillow, terrified by the idea of my captor’s henchman lunching downstairs with Urlick at the kitchen table.

What if he
has
come for me? What if he tells Urlick? What if Urlick agrees to hand me over to him? He wouldn’t do that, would he?

How did one of Smrt’s henchmen suddenly surface as a commoner’s driver? I thought Urlick said Flossie lived out here in the Follies. That she had no connection to Brethren.

What am I going to do? How will I avoid him? When she’s due here twice a week to deliver his lessons? Every Tuesday and Thursday. That leaves me two days to uncover my father’s machine, use it, and figure out a way to flee this place, before Flossie and her henchman return.

I stare out the window into the forest, thinking of the criminals and the Infirmed. I’ve no choice. I’ve got to leave. Immediately. I can’t risk his discovering me.

My eyes drift to the top of the escarpment where the Vapours hover, coiling among the trees. Where will I go? What will I do? How will I overcome the Vapours?

I can’t possibly go back to Brethren. And I dare not return to Gears.

I have no choice. I’ll have to stay in the Follies.

I’ve nowhere else to go.

Nowhere else in the world.

Unless…

I hug my pillow across my chest. Yes. Of course, that’s it.

I sit up.

Limpidious!

The hydrocycle. I could ride it there. I could fly my way to Limpidious!

N
ineteen

Eyelet

I make an appearance only after I’m sure Flossie and her driver have gone for the day, sliding into place next to Urlick at the dinner table. After all, I need answers and I need them now. Starting with what he knows about the mysterious land beyond the map in his study.

“Everything all right?” He asks as I sit. His hand swings out to pull back my chair.

I stare at him hard and he drops his grip. I pull the chair out for myself.

“Was it Flossie?” he tries again. “Because if she said something that upset you…”

“She didn’t—”

“It just that I know, she can be a real—”

“It was nothing.” I raise my hand.

Urlick falls hushed beside me, his eyes wide and blinking.

“What’s happened to your hand?”

“Oh, that.” I look down at my bandaged finger. “I nicked it, helping Iris peel potatoes earlier.”

“Potatoes?” Urlick frowns. “But we’re not even having potatoes this evening.”

“They’re for tomorrow,” I blurt.

Iris appears out of nowhere, as she tends to do, a dash on the thinnest of air, and I’m grateful for the chance to change the subject, to get Urlick’s prying mind off me.

“Oh, my, what have we here?” I say, straightening my back and craning my neck to see as she flits past, steaming bowls in hand, and lays them out on the table. “Spanish yams, spiced okra, quail?” I look up at her, perplexed. “Where on earth did you ever find quail?”

“The market—” Urlick blurts, lurching up from his seat before Iris has the chance to answer. “In Gears,” he stammers on, adjusting the collar at his neck. “The other day when I found you.” The two of them share a curious look, like they’ve both swallowed a canary.

Quail in the common marketplace? In a laborer town like Gears?
Not bloody likely, that’s what I say.
Quail hasn’t been readily available in these parts since the Night of the Great Illumination. In fact, it’s become rather a delicacy. Raised in private pens, behind locked gates, no longer found in the wild. You’re a terrible liar, Urlick Babbit.