Chapter 20

I think Jack knew I would scream. I don’t think he knew I would pull the small knife at my waist and try to stab him in the face. He caught it, and there was a small scuffle where he slammed me against the side of the carriage until I dropped the knife. That left the whistle.

It wasn’t the best, but, regardless, Jack Gimlet did not expect to be stabbed in the hand with a whistle by the Lorus. In this small box, I could not hide, so I ran. I surged to the other side of the carriage and after finding the door locked, squeezed myself out the window. I pulled up short for a second as Jack grabbed at the chain the whistle was attached to, but the craftsmen knew their work. In my panic I kept going. The thin chain broke, readily releasing me out the window and on to the roof.

I had seconds. I knew it. The cab driver whirled around in his seat then dropped his whip as he grabbed the roof of the hansom. In a moment he would be upon me. My eyes darted everywhere looking for a solution. Then, like the arm of an angel, out of the mist it came: the windmill paddle.

The cabby pulled himself up, but I had already taken the two steps I needed to launch myself off the roof and onto the wooden arm from the Tilted Mill. My breath caught as I jerked upwards. Below, Jack gave a shout I was all too familiar with. He stood in the street below alternating between cursing the driver for being slow and waving his arms at me.

“You little idiot!” he added in some new curse words I hadn’t heard before. I credited them to his time in New Castle. Apparently, there were some things my tutors still hadn’t taught me. Towards the top of the arc, I began repeating some of the words as well. At some point the arm would flip. Then I would be pointed head down back towards earth, and Jack.

I tried to kick my leg over the arm, which helped a little, but I was still heading towards the down swing, and my arms were getting really tired really fast.

Below I heard a sudden shout. Out of the mist something like a blue butterfly darted. It clambered up on top of the elk hansom and did the most spectacular thing I had ever seen. He punched the cabby, leapt, to the reins, and nearly ran over Jack as he pulled the hansom under my descending ride. The butterfly stood up on the seat and looked up. It was Trochi!

“Loris! Jump! I’ll catch you!”

I’m pretty sure the words I wanted to scream were, “Not for all the chestnuts in New Castle you lunatic!” But by then I was upside down and swinging fast, all of my weight was working against my arms. As hard as I tried to hang on, the downward momentum snapped my feet off the arm and over my head, wrenching my hands from the fabric as well. I shrieked.

But I hit something soft. I don’t think Trochi expected me to weigh so much. The two of us piled into the top of the carriage, and for a moment I just lay there on top of him, shaking and looking for words of thanks I could not find.

A cursing from below put both of us back in motion. I thought I saw a hand grab the side of the bench. I scrambled off Trochi. I had just a second to slip beside him on the seat before he cracked the reigns on the elk. With a kick and a buck the beast took off.

I’m not sure what I expected. Somewhere in the morning mist a howl like a wolf on the plains cut through my skin to chill my bones.

“Looooooooooorus!”

If there was any more to Jack’s strangled howl, I did not hear it. I shivered and realized Trochi was likewise quivering next to me. He looked over, but his attempt at a brave smile cracked somewhere in the middle.

“Well, that was an incredibly narrow scrape. Do you always spend such exciting evenings out, Loris?”

I shook my head and opened my mouth but had to reconsider.

“With Jacl around, Loris can never tell.” And of course I could never tell how the evenings around the Ayfortees campfire, however cold or hungry, seemed almost welcomingly boring compared to falling off buildings and running from Owls.

“So who is this Jack character anyhow? A cabby? You could have Giada look into that for you.”

“No. Jack would rather eat elk than ride it. Jack was the other one.”

“The other one?”

Trochi was looking curiously at me. He shrugged and popped the reins once more.

“Well, it is very foggy out. That should make our homeward journey a bit easier.”

Indeed, Trochi seemed to know just as many by-ways and slip-throughs as Tabby Porter. We didn’t even have to go over any walls or up buildings before finding ourselves back in Ward 1 and in front of the Forsythe house. Trochi hopped down then helped me down as well. He glanced for a moment at the house. Only three lights were on, two downstairs and one in an upstairs window. Lifting his hat off his head, Trochi leaned forward and wrapped an arm around me before putting his mouth next to my ear.

“Don’t forget me too soon, will you Loris?”

I put my hands in front of me. He was terribly close but not letting go.

“Of course not. Trochi helped Loris. Loris will not forget that.” I felt there was more I should say but wasn’t sure what he was expecting. “If Trochi ever needs-“

“Invite me to your birthday.”

I looked up. Through the mist of the evening, some of Trochi’s eye makeup had begun to streak. It made it look like tear tracks running down his face. Impulsively, I reached up and used the corner of my sleeves to wipe it back. Trochi smiled.

“Well that’s embarrassing. I hate it when my mascara runs.” Trochi tipped his hat and gave a bow then swung back up onto the hansom.

“Loris will invite Trochi.”

He paused and tipped his hat again. This time the smile reached all the way to his eyes. Something felt very warm inside my chest, and my face felt hot. I was probably catching a cold, so I waved and hurried inside.

Crane was waiting in the foyer. She didn’t ask any questions or say much, and she even shooed away Brissi and some of the other maids who came to see who had come in so late. I could hear Pilosa laughing and regaling someone with tales of the evening in the sitting room. Did that woman ever sleep? After cleaning and drying off, Crane put me in some dry clothes and helped me crawl into bed. She paused in the doorway for just a moment.

“Did you enjoy your evening, Miss Loris?”

I grunted, “Loris would prefer warmer, quieter evenings,” I couldn’t stop the yawn that interrupted, “but seeing Mumsy sing was very wonderful.”

Crane nodded, “Yes, she is. Lady Pilosa always has quite a few eyes on her. It’s almost as though she can’t help but draw attention. You should be prepared to draw no little attention yourself, young Loris.”

Swaddled in blankets and worn out from my night in Ward 3, I didn’t even have time to ponder Crane’s words. Much to the household staff’s relief, I slept soundly in my bed the rest of the night.

When I woke up, it took me a few moments to identify the wooden sounds of drawers sliding open and shut. Peeping through half-open eyes, I watched one of the maids, Brissi it was, sliding some of the drawers on the desk open then after a glance, closed again. I didn’t know what she was looking for. Maybe someone else visiting the room had left something behind. There was a tap at the door and the poor gal made the clumsiest scurry I’d ever seen for the closet. Crane poked her head in and looked straight at me.

“If you want to enjoy breakfast before your lessons at the Atrium this morning, Loris, I would suggest rising sooner rather than later. I’ll send one of the girls to help you dress,” she shook her head, muttering, “I thought Brissi had already come up. Where has that girl got to?”

Curious, I slid out of bed and padded across to the closet. All seemed quiet, so I threw the door open. No one was there. Blinking, I wondered if I had imagined the whole thing. Breakfast was waiting, and I didn’t want to delay that any longer, not if it was going to be a whole day of being talked at for lessons. I did my best to pick out what I thought looked suitable and left the mystery of the vanishing maid for later.

My efforts were mostly accepted by Crane who only insisted I add a printed jacket to the affair to add a little more color, something Pilosa sleepily endorsed on her way up the stairs as she yawned and sipped a cup of something bittersweet.

Once again I found myself in the company of my cousins on the way to the Atrium. As we stepped out the front door and into a crisp and sunny day, I pondered giving them the slip again and absconding to the roof tops. I still felt there was much more I could learn about New Castle by walking in it rather than staring at it in books or dusty relics. That notion was immediately squashed as Abbi stepped up and looped her arm through mine like we were the best of buddies. Blanch and Cori did likewise and brought up the rear.

I watched Abbi chew on a corner of her bottom lip as we walked along. She had something to say, and I wished she would just say it.

“I say, it’s a rather nice day out, isn’t it Loris?”

I turned my head to look at her smiling face.

“What is Abbi mad about this time?”

Behind us Cori and Blanch started snickering as Abbi did her best to look indignant.

“Nothing! I’m-I’m not mad at anything!” She paused, “But I do wish you would be a little more discreet if you’re going to go slumming it.”

I thought about the Tilted Mill with its dazzling lights and velvet upholstery. The image of Passeri greeting Abbi the same way he greeted Pilosa tickled me for some reason.

I snorted, “If Abbi thinks the place Pilosa goes to sing is a slum, then Abbi has some major perspective issues Loris isn’t even going to touch.”

Abbi huffed, “Look, I’m sure Uncle Passeri’s place is decent, but some of the company who frequent there- well, they just don’t have the right kinds of adventures. You see?”

“Uncle Passeri’s is decent? Has Abbi even been there?” I demanded.

She reddened in the face.

“Of course not! In the first place, everyone knows proper Wardensans always get permission before traveling between wards. And secondly, I’m under age! And so are you!”

I waved my free hand dismissively at her.

“Loris had permission.”

“From whom?!”

I shrugged, “From Pilosa, of course.”

Abbi rolled her eyes and looked back over her shoulder at the cousins.

“Really, Loris? You know Pilosa’s not a Forsythe. She’s an Applewite.” Then she tossed her curls like she’d just declared herself the winner of her own imaginary race. I looked over my shoulder as well at Blanche and Cori. They caught me looking at them. Blanche gave me a blank stare, but Cori stuck her tongue out and crossed her eyes. I nodded. So that was the angle.

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“Loris sees Abbi’s concern.”

She shot me a skeptical look.

“Do you?”

I nodded, “Abbi has been in New Castle much longer than Loris. Abbi knows much better than Loris how things in New Castle are supposed to work.”

Abbi nodded and hesitantly smiled, “Yes. Yes you do understand. As Wardensans the rest of the Ward, from Cogs to Seconds, look to us to be the example of what a good New Castelian should be. Your behavior wouldn’t be that bad if you were a Bench Dog or even someone’s Second, but for a Wardensan, you’re making us look like-like Shoalfolk!”

It took all of my might and resulted in Blanche plowing into the back of me, but I skidded to a stop, yanking my arm from Abbi’s. With cousins like this, I began to wonder if Bentley’s hermitage in his room wasn’t self-imposed.

“Remind Loris again, Abbi. Who are Loris’s parents?”

Abbi gawked for a moment before pulling herself up.

“According to Ward Caitlyn, you are the first daughter of Wardensan Royce and entertainer Pilosa Applewite.”

“And what was Royce’s family name?”

“What?”

“What was my father’s family name?”

Abbi blinked at me then answered evenly, “Forsythe. Royce Forsythe was third son of Granddame Catalyn’s first son, Petre's son.”

“And your father’s name?”

Abbi blinked at me. She had the same big, brown, cow, doe eyes her mother had, yet she lacked all the cunning of her sire. I had learned to keep very careful track of sires and dames while living with people desperate for offspring.

“At least Loris has one parent born in the Forsythe family.”

Abbi looked like I had slapped her. Mechanically, she turned and walked away. Blanche and Cori both looked at me with something between fear and disgust as they ran after her into an enormous, white marble building.

Left suddenly on my own again, I was very tempted to turn on my heel and either head home or go explore the city some more. Unfortunately, at that moment a light but practiced hand alighted on my shoulder, spinning me about.

Chelsey Lynwood smiled brightly at me. One hand was raised in greeting, the other curled around a pair of shoes tucked under her arm.

“Miss Loris! I say, this is good luck.” Her eyes narrowed. “You would not believe this most curious item that I found atop the butler’s pantry at the Tilted Mill the other night after documenting the Owls’ raid.”

My eyes shot left and right then to the door the cousins had just disappeared through. It was time to make my own escape.

“Sorry! Loris is late for lessons! Don’t want to keep Professor Qa'la waiting!”

That actually froze Lynwood in mid-stride, so I took the opportunity and hustled through the door as well.

The moment I stepped inside the heavy wooden door, I was glad I had decided to enter on my own. From the outside the Atrium barely looked larger than a shed. Inside, however, halls held aloft by magnificent pillars starred out in seven directions, each lined with the wreckage and skeletons of our grancestor’s past. I didn’t know what half the items were, but they were fabulous!

There were huge carts that looked like they were made out of glass and stone and ran on metal wheels. From the ceiling there were pieces and parts of rooms filled with chairs that had the remains of a long, flat arm sticking out one side. I wandered over to look at a drawing of what the rest of it was supposed to look like. Even though I couldn’t understand the writing, I understood the context of the clouds and the birds. Our grancestors flew! No wonder Mr. Fox was so frustrated!

Further on there was a gallery of limbs. I know it sounds odd, but there were some of the most perfect arms and legs, and even a jar of glass eyes on a shelf. More portraits celebrated a time when standing too close to a fire and getting an arm blown off didn’t result in permanent disfigurement but an upgrade to a finely tuned arm made out of machines. Or, if one lost their legs, one could drive an elk-less chariot or even be fitted out for incredible, spring-loaded mechanical legs. Suddenly, losing my little toes didn’t seem like such a bother.

Apparently, our foreparents loved light because everything seemed to have one or a lens or a peculiar glass eye staring out of it. The curators for the Atrium had taken care in lighting little candles inside of some of the glowing boxes and orbs to show how they might have looked. Many had one side removed so their rainbow colored wires could spill out like copper guts for the curious to speculate over.

There had never been time when I was out in the woods and wastes to ponder the bits of scrap metal or smoother-than-stone but brittle and colorful as leaves material some called plastic. Now, standing in the middle of the history of success and failure of my species, I felt very detached and peculiar. I wanted to know who these people were, yet I couldn’t fathom how they thought or even how they began to come up with some of the things I was looking at.

“Astounding, inspiring, and yet ultimately tragic. Weren’t they?”

“Yes,” I whispered before stopping to think. Startled at my own voice, I whirled around to find Professor Qa’la smiling from the entrance of another hallway.

“I am so glad you finally made time to come see me, Miss Loris.”

Now I was doubly caught. I wasn’t sure where to look so I pointed up at the flying things overhead.

“Does Professor really think grancestors could move a whole building through the sky? Sometimes people make stories bigger than they really are.”

Qa’la smiled. It made his eyes crinkle all the way to his fuzzy ears.

“I do indeed. And those ones there are called aeroplanes. They were more of a flying trolley than building,” he pointed to a bank of windows suspended in a white wall. Below it in a glass case was an enormous yellow foot with wings on the heel against a field of blue. I stared at it. Winged feet. They walked on clouds!

“That one is from something called a ‘blimp’. It’s actually a much rarer specimen. Apparently, our grancestors liked their speed, so not as many invested in casually floating through the clouds.”

I nodded enthusiastically until I saw a picture of it. I tried to spot where people would take off for their stroll through the clouds, but the big floating egg seemed to be just another transport. I studied the picture for a while, puzzling over it. Finally, I remembered what was bothering me.

“New Castle has one of these sky blimps?” I tried to remember what I’d seen from the rooftops of New Castle. I wasn’t quite sure how to describe it. “Gray and green, with kind of blue speckles? Or maybe another piece for the Atrium?”

Qa’la looked at me curiously. For a moment he was very still, almost like he was looking through me.

He answered with some hesitation, “A blimp? No, now of course sky travel has been the ideal of many a thaumaturge, so there’s no saying it isn’t someone’s little project. Why even our own Mr. Fox has dabbled with the idea of balloon flight. He even once bet Ms. Shrike that he could sail one of his projects around the entirety of New Castle and the Shoals in less than eight hours. He even convinced her to come on board!”

Qa’la started chuckling and had to remove his glasses before wiping them with a handkerchief.

“What happened?” I began pondering just how Fox was going to get one of those big, round orbs to pull them aloft.

“Well not nearly as much and yet entirely more than Fox had predicted for, really!” Qa’la put his glasses back on his face. “On lift off, one of the warmers filling the main envelope with hot air ignited, as they are prone to do, and the lovely silk chute went up like a moth in the flame. However, not all of it burned. As it was a windy day, there was just enough gust to catch what was left of the fabric and haul it off, basket in tow. Fox leapt clear, but apparently Lithi was caught up inspecting some form of reed beetle that had bored into some of the basket weaving. Fox ended up chasing his balloon with the basket and a very vocal Shrike from one end of Mural fields to the other, all the way out past Bubaker Shoals before it caught in a stand of trees and let Lithi stagger out. Didn’t take her long to recover enough to pop poor Avery one though. Ah, to be young and high spirited like them again.”

Qa’la knelt suddenly and rolled up the leg of his right pants. I thought he might be adjusting his socks, those itchy things Castelians insisted on. I saw that my speculation as to just how much of Qa’la was covered in tattoos was probably correct. He pointed to a small splotch on his calf surrounded by other squiggles and ambiguous shapes. Upon squinting I realized it was indeed a basket on its side with some sort of patchwork quilt heaped next to it. To the side a red fox and little brown bird seemed to be looking on in amusement.

“It was also the first time I heard Lithi laugh since the Byron Expedition debacle. I thought it was worth noting.”

I looked at the faded image and snorted.

“Must have been a long time ago at all when Shrike last laughed.”

Qa’la shook his head, “Oh no, all this was just last summer.”

He rolled his cuff back down.

“It’s just the ink is not as good in this one. It was a whim, really. The Crew was all back together and what not.” Qa’la sighed, “Shrike would scold me for being whimsical if she knew. But then even bad tattoos outlast the Halcyon days.”

I was not entirely sure what he meant by that and what it had to do with tattoos. His deflated balloon was fresher than both mine and Bentley’s canaries, but the birds definitely looked better. I debated showing him mine and asking his opinion, but the conversation moved on as he suddenly strode away.

“Come along, young Loris. It’s time we make good on the precious hours afforded to us.”

Qa’la gave me a cursory tour of the Atrium. It did indeed seem more like someone’s endless, sprawling storage shed, or as Qa’la called it, a museum. But I could also see where the object would cause some contention between Wards who seemed truly to covet anything and everything their grancestors had developed then discarded.

At last we arrived at the main hall of the Atrium; the actual atrium of the place had soaring ceilings of stained glass and choruses of potted plants and shrubs. A pair of long wooden tables ran down the middle of the room at which I spotted Abbi and the other girls along with some other children pawing over open books and making scribblings on paper next to them. Occasionally, Abbi would glance over to answer a question from a little one or look over Blanche or Cori’s work. It looked stupendously boring.

“And this, my dear Loris, is where we will have future lessons. We are all in free study right now, but most of the time I regale the class with stories of New Castle’s past, and we work together to better explore the prestigious and noble society of New Castle.”

I nodded mutely. Not only were there less of lessons in New Castle than Purgatory. Now it seemed there were more, and they involved even more tedious things.

“Today, however,” he continued, “we have a special request for an individual lesson. Step this way please.”

At that he had my full attention again. Qa’la paused before another heavy wooden door at the end of the hall.

“Curious?”

I nodded, probably too vigorously. Qa’la grinned, a little mischievously I might add.

“It seems the Iron Crane feels your studies may have been…lax in a certain area. She insisted that a private tutor be added to your already impressive roster to assure smooth progression of your other studies.”

My mind raced. What oh what had Crane noticed? Was it my table manners? I thought I did better the last time. I didn’t even take food off of Danse’s plate when it was obvious she wasn’t going to eat it. Dress? But Brissi and the maids took care of that? Maybe it was the reading thing. I winced. It had to be the reading thing.

“Ah, I see you are perhaps recalling an incident last night where you returned home at a rather late hour missing your dangler.”

Qa’la pushed the door open, and I followed him, blinking, back out into the muted sunlight. I shivered a bit as a damp wind descended out of the low hanging gray clouds. It felt restless and alive in contrast to the stillness inside. Just beyond the stoop was a nice, lush yard of green grass. In the middle pacing back and forth as she pinched her bottom lip and muttered to herself, was Chelsey Lynwood. The minute we stepped forward, her head snapped up. The worry on her face suddenly melted to cheer.

“Oy! Loris! You’re my pupil? Right on!”

“What?!”

Qa’la put what he probably thought was a comforting hand on my shoulder. It felt like a bear paw propelling me forward.

“Don’t be so alarmed, Loris. Lynwood, though her heart is devoted to the stacks and further the purpose of RCFers, really is an outstanding soldier and stalwart member of the Regulars Special Exploratory Unit Hares’ Mounted Bicycle Cavalry! You’ll be training with her today just to make sure you don’t come home ever missing anything more than a dangler.”

“What?!!”

That was what Crane found lacking in my education? That was what she thought I was lax in? Defending myself?! Did the woman not realize that my entire time outside of New Castle had been nothing but learning to survive by any means necessary?!

“Not much of a talker, is she?” Lynwood frowned but then shrugged. “Ah well, means you won’t be interrupting me as I explain. All right, Prof. I’ve got this.”

“Go easy, Lynwood. Remember, doing it right means learning it right-“

“Means only having to do it once,” she rolled her eyes. “I know, Prof.”

Qa’la’s mouth made a straight line.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me, intern Lynwood?”

Her spine snapped into place as she saluted smartly, eyes up and far from reproach.

“No sir! Professor, sir. I was merely inspecting the grounds to check for any debris that might interfere with the curriculum!”

Qa’la harrumphed, “Good to be thorough. I had just thought of a section in the Wax wing that might be in need of a good dusting. All those nooks and crannies deserve thoroughness, don’t they, Lynwood?”

“Absolutely, sir!” Lynwood stood at attention until Qa’la shook his head and strode back inside.

“I leave the Loris in your capable hands then, Lynwood.” Just as he passed inside the door, I thought I saw a corner of his mouth quirk upwards. “Sometimes you are entirely too easy, dear gal.”

For a moment after Qa’la left Lynwood continued to hold her salute then after confirming that the yard door really was closed she dropped her arm and gave her whole body a shake.

She grinned at me, shoulders wide, hands on her hip.

“All right then, squirt. Let’s see what you can do.”

Then she hauled off and punched me in the forehead.