The Impossible Cube: A Novel of the Clockwork Empire (7 page)

Normal people were able to reproduce a few clockwork
innovations—Babbage engines that allowed machines to retain information and appear to think. Tempered glass that let airmen create weapons that wouldn’t spark amid dangerous hydrogen. Designs for dirigibles. Electric light. But the vast majority of clockworker inventions were so complicated, so complex, that only clockworkers could create them, and their work seemed limited only by the materials they could afford. Normal humans couldn’t assemble the materials, even with careful diagrams or instructions. Even taking most inventions apart without breaking them was nearly impossible.

Alice, however, seemed to be unique in the clockwork world. She alone could understand, assemble, and repair clockwork inventions. She had, for example, assembled Click and Kemp with instructions from Aunt Edwina, along with over a dozen spiders and whirligigs, and could strip a clockwork machine to its component cogs in minutes, though this odd ability didn’t extend to the spider gauntlet currently gripping her left hand.

Alice had spent considerable time trying to pry it off, and with every tool at her disposal. It wouldn’t budge. She couldn’t even find a way to open it. It stoically wrapped her forearm and fingers, tipping her fingers with its claws and filling its tubules with her blood. It didn’t restrict her movements, and it left the underside of her hand uncovered, so she didn’t lose sensation, but she still found it… unsettling. It was always there, burbling to itself and dragging at her arm. The demon spider was a part of her now, and she a part of it. So far the demon did everything she required
of it, except come off, but she wondered what would happen on the day her desires ran counter to its.

Under her ministrations, the generator’s power dropped and the envelope’s glow dimmed. The
Lady
descended toward the abandoned farm buildings and touched the ground in front of them with a delicate bump.

“Perfect landing,” Feng said. “You are quite skilled.”

Gavin flashed the heart-stopping grin, then cast lines over the sides. “Let’s get to work. That barn—stable—is big enough to hide the ship in.”

Once the passengers, including Kemp, dropped to the ground, the ship rose a few feet. Everyone took a line and towed the ship toward the two-story stable, which was really little more than an empty shell. The ship barely squeezed through the gaping space left by the missing main doors, and the group lashed her in place at Gavin’s direction, then edged around her to get outside into the late-summer sunlight. Click looked down at them smugly from the stern, clearly pleased that he didn’t have to do any of the work.

“How did you know about this place?” Alice asked.

Gavin shuffled a little, momentarily looking like the teenager he technically was. “Sometimes the
Juniper
carried cargo that Captain Naismith didn’t want the port authority in Luxembourg to see. We used to drop it off here and pick it up later.”

“Smuggling?” Alice raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Ennock, I am shocked!”

“Well, Luxembourg has high tariffs on certain items that made it more expensive to ship them in than the goods were worth, and we couldn’t always be— Oh.”
He caught sight of Alice’s expression. “You were joking.”

“The famous dry British wit,” Feng observed. “So much like my father’s.”

“Madam,” Kemp said, “I am afraid I have to report that the food stores are nearly empty. Breakfast this morning drained what little we had.”

“Then we’ll have to get more,” Alice said. “How far away are we from the city?”

“Less than five miles,” Gavin said. “A decent walk, though we might be able to beg a ride from a farm wagon or a carriage. Alice, I think you should change into skirts. A woman in trousers attracts attention.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” Alice sighed. “And, Kemp, you and Click will have to stay behind with the ship.”

“Madam!” Kemp huffed. “It is my duty to attend to Madam’s every need and comfort. I cannot do that when—”

“The Catholics have made you illegal in Luxembourg,” Alice said patiently. “Besides, the Third Ward is looking for a group that’s traveling with a mechanical servant and a clockwork cat.”

“Madam,” Kemp replied stiffly. On the ship above, Click put his ears back.

“No worrying,” Dr. Clef said. “I will also stay. I am working on a new piece, and the clicky kitty will keep me company.”

“What about food?” Gavin asked.

“There is sufficient for one person for a day or two,” Kemp said. “I said we had little, not none.”

Dr. Clef looked sly. “And it gives farms about, with
fruit and vegetables in the fields. If you are gone for a few days, it matters nothing.”

“Right.” Gavin rumpled his hair. “That leaves you, Feng.”

“Oh?” The young man struck a pose. He was, as usual, quite good-looking, though nowhere near as handsome as Gavin, in Alice’s mind. “Do
I
stand out?”

“I know!” Alice plucked the goggles from Dr. Clef’s forehead and drew them down over Feng’s head, then extracted a red scarf from her pocket and wrapped it around the lower half of Feng’s face. “There! With the right hat, you’ll look like an airman instead of a mysterious Oriental. Around here, that shouldn’t attract attention.”

Feng made a horrified sound. “I was hoping my exotic good looks would attract a great deal of attention, if you understand my meaning.”

“Mr. Lung!” Alice admonished. “That’s hardly appropriate.”

“That is why my father asked you to bring me back to Peking,” Feng pointed out. “Unlike my father, when I see a pretty piece of… a pretty face, I become a
bad
diplomat.” His voice was muffled through the scarf. “But for your sake, my lady, I will try.”

“Your Ladyship,” Alice corrected. “A baroness isn’t rightly addressed as
my lady.
”

“You see? Bad diplomat.” He straightened the goggles. “Let us go now. I will be hungry soon.”

“Feng,” Gavin said, “the jar?”

Feng’s almond eyes widened. “How could I have forgotten?” He dashed for the ship.

Alice, meanwhile, quickly changed into skirts in her
tiny stateroom belowdecks and snatched up a cloth airman’s cap for Feng. She also took the book of figures. Gavin had changed out of his torn black clothes into a plain workman’s outfit, complete with a cloth cap of his own. He wore his fiddle case on his back, since he rarely went anywhere without it. Feng appeared with a rucksack that clinked. They bade Dr. Clef and the mechanicals good-bye and left.

“Are you still a baroness?” Gavin asked as the trio set off down the dusty, hedge-lined road toward Luxembourg. “I mean, you left the country and abandoned your fiancé and became a traitor, so—”

“Titles are for life,” Alice said. “My father was the last Lord Michaels, and I was his only child. His only relative, really. When he passed away, that left me Alice, Lady Michaels, and I will be until I die, no matter how scandalously I behave, though if I have a child, things become complicated.”

“How?” Feng inquired. His feet kicked up small puffs of dust that hung on the still air. Birds called from the hedges and the trees that grew among them, and cows lowed from their pastures.

“For the line to continue, any child I have must be legitimate,” Alice said, flushing a little. The subject still made her uncomfortable, even though England was hundreds of miles away. “If Gavin and I don’t marry in a Christian church, our children won’t be…”

She trailed off in horror, realizing what she had just said. Gavin would never live to see children. Tears welled up, and she looked abruptly away.

Gavin squeezed her hand. “I don’t care if they’re titled or not,” he said brightly. “We aren’t going back to
England, and that’s the only place the title matters. You will be my wife on our airship and the whole world will be our estate!” He spread his arms wide, then swept her into a kiss. “There! Title that!”

Alice had to laugh. “Thank you, Mr. Ennock.”

“You’re welcome, Miss No-Longer-Lady-Alice-Michaels,” he said impishly.

“I believe I will call you Miss A,” Feng said. “If you prefer.”

“Actually, I would not,” she said. “The Third Ward uses Christian names among themselves to show comradeship and to emphasize the fact that they operate outside the usual boundaries of society. Since we are traveling together outside the boundaries of society, and I have little use for my title anymore, I think I would prefer my Christian name. Feng.”

He put his fist into his hand and bowed to her in what Alice assumed was an Oriental fashion. “Then it will be so. Alice.”

“You must be looking forward to going home,” Alice said as they continued to walk.

Feng blinked at her. “What a strange thing to say.”

“Is it? I would think you would miss your homeland, though I would imagine it’s difficult to leave your father. Your mother will certainly be glad to see you.”

Feng was silent for a long moment. Then he said slowly, “I am not returning as any kind of hero, Alice. I thought you knew that.”

“Sorry?”

“I am returning in disgrace. The lowest disgrace you can imagine.”

“I don’t understand,” Gavin put in. “You and your
father don’t want you to be a diplomat, so you’re going home to—”

“That is exactly the point, Gavin. I am a nephew to the emperor and my father’s only son. I should be following into his profession. But my father has decreed that I have failed him and the family, which includes the emperor.” Feng’s usual carefree demeanor had left him. The words came out slow and dull as lead pipe. “I am a failure and a disgrace. If I am very lucky, I will spend the rest of my days scrubbing chamber pots with the servants.”

“Good heavens,” Alice said. How outrageous this was! “Feng, I had no idea. You always seemed so cheerful. I assumed you were thrilled to get away from London and go home.”

Feng swiped a surreptitious finger under one lens of his goggles. “What is the worth of moping about? I will be unhappy enough later. In any case, I am in no hurry to face my disgrace, so I am in no hurry to arrive in China.”

“Why not simply disappear between here and there?” Gavin said reasonably. “You’re smart and know several languages. You could vanish into any number of places and live very well.”

“That,” Feng spat, “would show cowardice and bring even more disgrace to my family. I will not do that to them.”

“You are not a disgrace,” Alice said tartly. “Just now you helped save Gavin’s life. Surely that should count for something.”

“Perhaps.” Feng sounded more tired than convinced, and fell silent. Alice didn’t know what to say, so she fell silent as well.

At that point, a farm wagon drove by, and Alice’s schoolgirl French was able to persuade the drover to let them ride on the back for a penny. Less than an hour later, they passed through one of the gates of Luxembourg.

The city was cleaner than London. The air smelled of horses and wood smoke and manure, but none of the scents were as cloying as in London, and dirt didn’t hang on the air with yellow coal smoke. A cheerful sun chased away the dank smell and the dampness. The people on the cobblestoned streets bustled about and shouted good-naturedly at one another. Windows stood open to catch the summer breeze instead of locked against the misty damp. A group of chattering children ran past the cart, laughing and shouting their way through a make-believe world of their own. Alice felt her own heart lighten, and wondered what it would have been like to grow up here instead of chilly, drizzly London.

The cart carried the trio to an open market, and they hopped off. A number of church bells rang to announce midday. The metal tones bounced off the hills and scampered up the side streets. Merchants shouted for attention from brightly colored stalls, and a number of surfaces sported garish advertisements for the
Kalakos Cirque International du Automates et d’Autres Merveilles.
Here and there, a mechanical horse pulled a carriage down the street, or a spider skittered by with a basket on its back.

Alice bought a loaf of bread and a bit of butter, and they shared it for lunch on a corner. Despite the heat, Alice wore bulky gloves to conceal her spider, but no
one seemed to take much notice. Most ladies were wearing gloves of their own.

“What is next?” Feng adjusted his scarf and his pack.

“We need to find paraffin oil for the ship, food stores, and a way to get both back to the ship,” Gavin said. “How much money do we have?”

Alice sighed. It was the moment she’d been dreading. She took the little book of figures from her skirt pocket. “Not near enough,” she admitted. “I performed a few calculations based on how much oil the ship used to get this far, how much weight we need to carry, what the winds are like, and the possibility that paraffin oil prices will be stunningly low—unlikely, considering how difficult it is to make, and how rare.”

“Meaning we won’t have enough money to make it to Peking,” Gavin finished.

“No,” Alice murmured.

“Then,” Gavin said brightly, “our plan is both to earn money and figure out a way to get farther on less oil. So. Feng, you buy supplies and find a way to get them back to the
Lady
without letting anyone know where the ship is hidden. And don’t forget about the jar. Alice, you find a supply of paraffin oil and bargain hard.”

“What are you going to do?” Alice asked.

“Earn money. Back away.” He whipped out his fiddle, sprinkled a few coins into the case on the ground before him, and began to play. The merry music on the crowded corner attracted attention fairly quickly, and even as Alice watched, a few people tossed coins of their own into Gavin’s case. He winked his thanks at
them and continued the song. Alice let the golden song wash over her. Though the violin was playing to the crowd, the musician was playing for her. He smiled at her, and her breath caught.

Feng plucked at her elbow. “We have much to do.”

She reluctantly let him lead her away. A few moments later, he dodged down a less crowded side street and opened his rucksack. “We should do this first.”

“Oh!” she said. “A good idea.”

From the rucksack Feng took a largish jar, the sort that might store pickles. It held a bunch of grass and twigs and bits of food. Amid all this swarmed a large number of little fireflies. They winked green in the shady side street and cast odd shadows into the corners.