CHAPTER 15

  MELANIE gripped the rails of the lift. It rocked through the air with a racket of loud, complaining creaks. The sky felt cruelly bright this morning, and the wind shook them with the demented cheerfulness of a dog yanking at a rope toy.

  At least Unicorn seemed pleased; the cloak Melanie wore billowed dashingly even when there was no wind.

  Below, the thatched roofs of Hamlen crowded against the stark gray mountain, receding as the lift rose. Soon they were little more than tiny bubbles floating in that sea of green grass.

  And Livia was among them. Melanie had rushed to the girl’s tailor shop before meeting with Parno—just as dawn was breaking—but no one had answered her tentative knocks. Too nervous to wake the whole household, Melanie had settled for leaving a note at the inn saying goodbye and how sorry she was to go. She’d even promised to come back someday soon, blushing furiously as she wrote the words. Katzy had pledged to deliver it first thing.

  Parno leaned against the rail, his eyes on the horizon. His thick gray beard billowed in the wind. He’d been strangely muted all morning, and Melanie noticed that he’d left Adrianus behind.

  Traveler had donned his hat and his own long cloak, giving him a dramatic, wizardly appearance. Parno had raised an eyebrow when he saw the gearling emerge so besuited, but thankfully refrained from another lecture.

  While they rode, Parno explained how the mill powered the lift, among other necessary machines for the aerie. “Hamlen owes the aldermages a great deal,” he boasted. “Before the aerie, these people were all backwater shepherds. The fields were absolutely pocked with sheep manure.”

  From what Melanie could see of the passing mountainside, the village had just traded one kind of dung for another. Long trails of white excrement dribbled from the cliffs, like pigeon droppings but a hundred times the volume. It smelled awful, like moldering meat and wet metal, and only intensified the higher they went. A wave of nausea made her look away, but that meant she was looking down at the ground far below, equally dizzying. Her eyes settled on the gearlings standing side by side in the lift.

  Apart from Traveler’s outfit and the different colors of their metal, they were nearly identical. Both stood at attention, their poses perfectly mirrored and their glowing eyes utterly blank.

  Melanie desperately wished she and Traveler could communicate using the Gossip’s Friend charm. Last night had felt like such a victory, but now in the cold light of morning, with Hamlen disappearing below, she remembered Traveler’s warning—that the aldermage was more observant than he let on. She must be on guard with Parno at all times.

  “I’m aware that the youths of today find it fashionable to skirt the norms of decorum,” he said, having apparently changed topics. “But really, if you hope to make a positive impression at court, you should dress like a young lady. You don’t want people getting the wrong idea.”

  Melanie fought from rolling her eyes. Whatever ideas Parno thought were wrong, she decided Lady Porta enthusiastically supported them.

  The lift lurched, and a large shadow passed overhead.

  “Ah, here we are,” Parno said. “Be careful getting out. The first step is a tricky one.”

  Suddenly, the face of the mountain disappeared, and the craggy gray wall bent into a cavern as wide and open as a warehouse. Empire flags fluttered all around the space, many more than in Hamlen itself. Melanie felt their three-eyed gazes settle on her. She remembered Traveler’s question on their journey to Hamlen.

  And what does Lady Porta think of the thaumacracy? Of the three eyes, constantly watching?

  Melanie Gate had never considered it before. But Lady Porta . . . found the gaze unnerving.

  Women and men scurried around, hauling square bales of straw, casks filled with grain, and powder-blue eggs so large, it took two grown adults to carry them. Their uniforms were larger versions of the ones worn by the village children, except threadbare and smudged with white gryphon manure.

  Likewise, the adults of Hamlen looked worn. Old or young, dark circles ringed every eye.

  Nearby, a lift attendant leaned against a mechanical lever that was connected to an intricate pulley system. He yanked back on it sharply once the lift arrived, and the whole arrangement jerked to a halt. The man hopped off his platform, then cranked another lever attached to a mechanical wheel. A long metal scaffold extended out to meet the car, forming a walkway into the cavern.

  Parno threw open the door, barely waiting for the walkway to click into place. “Dozens of tunnels have been carved into the mountainside,” he said proudly. “We have enough nests for twenty full-grown war gryphons, not that we’ve filled them all. It takes three years to fledge the beasts to adulthood. Until then, the young ones nest with their parents.”

  Melanie toed her way cautiously across the walkway, following behind the aldermage. “How many gryphons do you have now?” she called after him. The cavern was noisy with the sounds of industry—shouts and clangs and thunderous rumbles—along with the roar of the wind.

  Behind her, the gearlings stepped onto the bridge. Melanie felt the whole configuration judder under their weight.

  Parno seemed unbothered by the movement. He continued without looking back. “Not nearly enough! The empire requires every tool in its arsenal against the Hexe of the South. Zerend’s murder was an attack against all of us.”

  “How many would be enough, then?”

  Now the aldermage finally paused, turning slightly. The restless eyebrow rose again. “Frankly, I find that question unpatriotic, Lady Porta. One can’t put a limit on our security. We’re in the midst of a war.”

  Which seemed a bleak answer to her.

  The lift attendant stared at Melanie as she arrived in the wide cavern, and he wasn’t the only one. The villagers of Hamlen all glanced her way, their eyes passing suspiciously from Melanie to Traveler. It was just like the flags, she thought. She recalled Traveler’s explanation about sympathetic magic. Like makes like. Perhaps people were a bit like that too. If the thaumacracy’s three-eyed gaze was always searching for enemies, its citizens would naturally follow suit.

  One of the grown-ups—a large, pinkish man with thinning hair—approached. He was better dressed than most of the others, his uniform clean and trim. He carried what looked like a black accounting book instead of a heavy load.

  “What’s this?” the man said. “Master Parno, this is no place for children.”

  “Calm yourself, Mister Frederick,” the aldermage soothed. “We won’t be staying long. Lady Porta is a visiting prodigy. I’ll be escorting her to Princess-Electa Maximillia’s estate, if you would be so kind.”

  The man’s eyes widened. He looked Melanie up and down. “That’s Livia’s work, yes?” he said. Then his eyes softened a touch. “Well, you’ve got taste, at least. Looks good on you.”

  Parno’s unctuous smile dropped like a wad of gryphon dung.

  Mister Frederick nodded briskly, then waved to a group in the back.

  “Prepare the carriage!” he boomed. Melanie flinched. It was a voice well-suited to the noisy atmosphere.

  Others carried the order like an echo down to the back of the hangar. Parno adjusted his shirt while he waited—calmly inspected his watch. Then, a sudden crash.

  Melanie heard voices rising in alarm, and an ear-splitting cry. A woman across the cleft began ringing a copper warning bell. At the sound, Hamleners ran for the cavern walls, parting just as a group entered from one of the tunnels. There were six in total, each holding a long pole with a loop of rope at the end. Knotted between them, tangled by the snares, was the most terrifying creature Melanie had ever seen.

  Its eye was as big as Abraxas, a sun-yellow orb of pure hatred with a black void at its center. The gryphon towered over its handlers. While the lion and eagle aspects were certainly present, this beast was so much larger than she’d imagined either creature could be.

  Melanie felt a cold hand grip her shoulder. Traveler slid smoothly forward, interposing himself between her and the animal. Melanie saw that Parno’s gearling had done the same.

  “Back to the wall!” Frederick barked, and together they edged to the perimeter of the space.

  The handlers moved with practiced care, each restraining a particularly dangerous appendage: wings, forward talons, and beak. The last of the six led the team—a burly man with thick biceps—ensnaring the gryphon’s neck. They brought it to the edge of the cliff, their movements part dance, part shuffle. Then the leader called an order that Melanie couldn’t make out, and all six twisted something within their snares. The ropes released, and the gryphon was freed. The handlers all dove away as it lurched forward.

  And Parno moved to intercept it.

  The wizard held a glittering object. Melanie couldn’t see what was in his hand, but clearly the gryphon could. It crashed to a stop, shrieking. Then, to Melanie’s surprise, it went still and quiet. Though the animal had been released from its snares, it wore a collar and a glittering anklet on its right forward talon. Melanie could just see a red leather band peeking from between the gryphon’s feathers.

  A second team of Hamleners emerged from the back of the hangar, pushing an enormous metallic sphere. They brought it to a stop just behind the gryphon, and one of the attendants slammed down a raised switch.

  The sphere came alive.

  It whirred like clockwork—Like a gearling, Melanie thought with a tightness in her chest—the surface spiraling open in a series of intricate circular movements. So, it was some kind of container? In a moment a passage had formed, revealing an inner room like a noble’s palanquin. A set of two plush leather chairs waited invitingly, along with a small army of pillows. There was even enough space for both gearlings to stand unimpeded.

  “Ready the jess!”

  One of the Hamleners had climbed to the top of the sphere. He yanked a thick glittering chain free of some unseen holster, then tossed a length of it down to a woman waiting just below. She in turn hooked it to the gryphon’s anklet, then hurried back from its reach.

  Parno strode confidently past the gryphon and into the interior of the sphere. His copper gearling followed behind.

  Melanie glanced toward the animal. Though apparently cowed by Parno’s magic, the monster’s cruel yellow eye still twisted her gut.

  “Oh, come along, Lady Porta,” the aldermage called impatiently. “The beast is subdued . . . for now.”

  Character trait: Lady Porta is n-not afraid of gryphons.

  Melanie took a deep breath and plunged forward, affecting as much indifference as she could. Traveler moved alongside her; the gearling kept himself between her and the gryphon the whole way. Melanie wondered if this was still part of the act. Would Traveler fight if the beast attacked?

  They arrived at the sphere, where Traveler gave her his hand to boost her up and inside. The interior was the finest space Melanie had ever been in. Just her chair was a revelation of comfort. She sunk into the mountain of pillows, and only barely restrained herself from mewling in pleasure.

  Traveler followed her inside, installing himself beside the copper gearling. Once they were all in place, Parno depressed a second switch installed within the sphere.

  The walls of the gyre sprang into motion. Melanie was reminded of the celestial models at the Crossport Museum of Thaumaturgical Philosophy—concentric rings that spun together, mapping the movement of the heavens in shiny brass. After a swirling dance of lattices, the carriage had sealed closed again. There were several windows, however, from which to view the outside. Melanie turned to the nearest one, then yelped.

  The gryphon’s yellow eye peered back at her.

  The creature craned down to the sphere, its predator’s gaze trained right on Melanie. It raised its forward claw—the one that the sphere was now chained to—and brought it down upon a handle at the top of the structure. All Melanie felt was the faintest shudder as the entire palanquin was dragged forward by the beast.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Oh, no!”

  Parno merely chuckled.

  Melanie could still see the huge, lumbering shape of the gryphon above them through a porthole in the sphere’s ceiling. The muscles of its leonine body rippled overhead as it worked to pull the sphere to the cliff’s edge.

  Then, before she could process what was coming, it threw itself from the cliff.

  Melanie screamed as the gryphon opened its wings. If she’d thought the beast was big before, its full wingspan was truly mammoth. The gryphon lifted into the air with a shriek, moving gracefully upward. One powerful beat of those wings—then two, then three—and they were off. Though the sphere swung tumultuously in the gryphon’s taloned grip, the interior of the carriage remained perfectly still. Only the outer layer rotated with its jerky movements.

  Melanie whipped around to see the aerie quickly receding behind them. Soon it was nothing but a dark stripe in the mountainside, and Hamlen a scattering of pebbles on the grassland.

  “Impressive, isn’t it?” Parno said, staring calmly ahead. “The carriage is my own design. It’s supported by a bevy of enchantments that offset the weight. Even a gryphon wouldn’t be able to ferry two gearlings very far without magical assistance.”

  “M-most impressive,” Melanie managed to grind out through firmly clenched teeth.

  “Sit back and relax, my dear. We have quite a journey ahead of us before we reach the princess-electa’s estate.”

  Melanie tried. She sank deeper into her pillowed seat and forced herself to breathe. She imagined Jane was with her, quietly marveling at every detail below, the vast sky all around them. Still, Melanie’s heart wouldn’t stop racing. They were so high up! And all that protected them from a deadly plummet was the grip of a vicious monster!

  Melanie took a deep breath, then a shallow one. In and out. Nice and easy. Eventually, she felt her pulse slow.

  Parno glanced toward her and smiled unctuously. “There we are. Perfectly safe. Now, to pass the time, perhaps you’d do me a favor.”

  The aldermage steepled his hands. “I’d like you to tell me who you really are.”

  CHAPTER 16

  A shadow crossed over Hamlen, just as the village’s newest visitors approached the village—seven foundlings and their middle-aged matron, all escorted by the most powerful wizard in the Aederian Thaumacracy.

  Jane Alley shielded her amber eyes, glancing upward through the carriage window. She caught the shape of an enormous bird outlined in the morning sun.

  Was it carrying something? The bird had shrunk to a dot before she could be sure.

  None of the girls had ever left Crossport before, and despite their nerves, they were buzzing with excitement. Even Mariana, who’d had her arms wrapped around Baruti since they left the city, came uncoiled to gaze out the window.

  They rode together in a grand coach, pulled by four exquisite horses. Helen Stables had screamed in glee when she saw the team pull up to the orphanage. Only the presence of the gearlings, along with the swift grip of Mrs. Harbargain, had kept her from rushing the animals.

  And the gearling presence remained, long after they’d left the city walls. The coach was surrounded by loping metal automatons who kept easy pace with the carriage as they traveled. They now stood at a removed distance, staring implacably ahead.

  Behind the coach, a second wheeled wagon had been hitched to the first, though this one held no passengers. Instead, an enormous shape bulged beneath a red tarpaulin emblazoned with the three-eyed symbol of the thaumacracy. None of the girls could get a sense for what the mysterious cargo was, and they didn’t dare discuss the matter in front of Riquem.

  But it was clearly very big.

  The girls were all pressed together around Mrs. Harbargain, so no one would have to sit too near to Riquem. All except Agatha. She’d happily perched beside the Third Eye, chatting companionably with him the whole trip.

  “Fascinating! So is the piece attached to your arm, or worn?” She indicated Riquem’s gauntlet.

  “Worn,” he answered gamely. “It’s the insignia of the Third Eye of the Empire. Sort of a badge of office. A bit flashy for my taste, but easier than lugging an enormous staff around like they used to. And it comes with some exhilarating unique enchantments.”

  “Like what?”

  “State secrets,” the High Enchanter said with a wink. “Wouldn’t want word getting to the Hexe of the South, now would we?”

  Agatha feigned a look of horror and Riquem chuckled.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get her in the end. And all of the Ley Coven. It was Zerend’s final wish.”

  “Were you close with High Enchanter Zerend?” Agatha asked. “Before the attack?”

  Real emotion shaded Riquem’s easygoing smile then. A distance touched his eyes that Jane couldn’t help but notice. He looked sad, and perhaps a bit lost.

  “We were,” he answered faintly. “But he wasn’t the only one who died that night. Some of the thaumacracy’s brightest magical minds—my friends and colleagues—were working together when the explosion hit. I was spared only because I’d been running late.”

  The softness in his brow constricted—a loose knot pulled tight. “The Hexe will pay.”

  They arrived at the village gate. A horde of children greeted them, returning the girls’ gawking with wide-eyed stares of their own. The children all kept far away from the gearlings, except for a single boy in the red uniform of the imperial aldermages.

  Riquem the Red frowned at the boy.

  Jane noticed Baruti shooting Agatha a what-are-you-doing glare—but Agatha maintained her inane smile, as if she hadn’t seen.

  “Wait here,” Riquem said. He opened the coach door and jumped gracefully to the ground.

  “High Enchanter!” Agatha called after him. “Go easy on Melanie, would you? She really is a good girl.”

 

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