Rise of the Arcane Fire (The Secret Order) (24 page)

“I wish I could. I thoroughly insulted her, and she won’t soon forget it. She said I take after the headmaster’s wife. I don’t even know the woman, but it sounded like an insult,” I said.

“What did she say exactly?” Lucinda asked as she knit her brow.

Unfortunately, the exact words had haunted me all night. “She accused me of being Will’s lover, then had an outrageous notion that I somehow had designs on your brother as well. Then she said that Headmaster Lawrence may have taken me under his wing, but it’s his wife I take after.”

Lucinda laughed.

“It’s not amusing.”

“Do you have designs on my brother?” she asked as she tilted her head slightly, with a wickedly curious gleam in her eye.

“Heavens no!” A shiver trickled down my back. I ignored it.

“Well, then, there’s nothing to worry about.” Lucinda patted my knee. “Lawrence’s wife, Emma, has always been a kind soul. It would be a far greater insult to take after Mary Thornby. We should feel sorry for her, really. She has harbored feelings for David since she was three.”

“Which makes her dangerous,” I said, taking off my lopsided bonnet and placing it on the table. “What happened to the headmaster’s wife?”

Lucinda took a long draw of breath, then let it out in a resigned sigh. “Mary was dredging up long-dead gossip. The rumors about Emma died down at least fifteen years ago, perhaps more. I don’t even know why Mary brought it up, other than that she wanted to evoke a sense of scandal.” Lucinda waved a dismissive hand in the air. “If she had any sense at all, she would have realized you’ve never heard of it. So much for verbal warfare. She can’t even load the cannons properly.”

I chuckled at that. However, it did prove Mary was all too willing to use gossip as a weapon. “What was the rumor?” I asked.

Lucinda’s expression turned serious. “If I told you, I’d be no better than the rest. There was never any proof of anything salacious, only conjecture based on the thinnest of suspicions, and I couldn’t believe it of Emma. All you need know is that you should never feel ashamed for how you feel about Will.”

I wasn’t ashamed of Will. I never would be, but it was difficult to remind myself what I should be feeling when so many other things seemed to get in the way of it. David’s words still lingered, that I only loved Will because I had no other option. I didn’t believe it was true. “According to Lady Chadwick, David and I should have been betrothed.”

I don’t know why I said it. I supposed I needed to know what Lucinda would say on the matter and if she, too, would push me toward her brother.

Lucinda looked at me as if she knew exactly what I was really asking her. “Thankfully, your mother had enough sense to deny my father’s wishes, twice, both with her own betrothal and then again with yours. It’s why she kept you from the Order.” Lucinda’s gaze drifted as her expression became heavy with the weight of her thoughts. “My father is dead. He no longer has a bearing on either of our lives. I should have realized that before the spectacle I made of myself at his memorial. I was so caught up in my revenge against him and my mother, I very nearly ruined my own brother and sister. That wasn’t my intent.”

She sighed. “Marry whom you will, Meg. I have never once regretted my first marriage, and I know your mother never regretted her decision either.”

I bowed my head and stared at the callus beginning to form on the side of my first finger. “I miss Will.”

Lucinda nodded. “I know you do. He’s a good man.” She smiled. “Not that my brother isn’t.”

She stood and held out her hands to help me to my feet. “You have already done more than most ever could have. Even if I had had the chance to become an apprentice, I doubt I could have done so well as you. I know it is difficult, but these challenges will not last. The saboteur will be caught, and things put right once more. One day this difficulty will fade and your achievement will shine through.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, and doubted I could even speak.

Lucinda picked up her bonnet. “Now, are we bound for the train?”

She was right. I had come too far to give up now. If I gave in, then all the struggle I had suffered would have been for naught. I shook my head.

“Good, then I should return this.” She produced a letter from her reticule and handed it to me.

It was my letter of resignation from the Academy. Mrs. Brindle had never posted it.

I ENTERED THE ACADEMY WITH
a new sense of purpose. As I passed before the statue of Athena holding her sword aloft, the shifting light from the moving colored glass made it seem as if she were watching me closely. I held my head high and nodded to her, one woman to another. They may have enshrined her on a beautiful pedestal, but I intended my mark on the Academy to be every bit as deep as hers.

The apprentices met in the assembly hall, but it was clear we weren’t to remain there. Instructor Barnabus bunched us into a large cluster and told us not to take our seats.

I lingered around the edges of the group. The boys all talked quietly, leaning toward one another so they could speak in hushed tones. Every time I drew near, they fell silent and stared at me until I was forced to move on. I caught sight of Peter, but he turned his shoulder to speak with Noah. Samuel broke ranks and sat down, kicking his feet out and crossing his arms.

David was about to say something to him, when he glanced at me. He wore his fine silk waistcoat, and shirtsleeves that he’d rolled up to expose the lower half of his arms. Smudges of grease marred his otherwise perfect hands. With his hair tousled he looked a bit rakish, like the proverbial nobleman who longed for adventure and so became a pirate. His eyes warmed as they met mine. He may very well have been handsome, but I wasn’t impressed, truly.

He took a step toward me, and I turned and walked with purpose toward Manoj and Michael.

Thankfully, Headmaster Lawrence appeared at the far door and everyone turned to give him their full attention. I wasn’t sure if anyone else found the dark circles under his eyes, or the sallow appearance of his skin, as troublesome as I did.

No one else knew what endeavors he was engaging in in the cellar. I worried for him. He drew himself up with a large breath, then said, “Follow me,” without any further explanation.

We did as we were told, forming two neat lines as we walked out of the lower hall and then turned down the long corridor that led toward the cellars.

To make things worse, I was walking next to Peter. He refused to speak a word as we stepped side by side down the long spiral stair into the cellars.

Instead of turning toward the archives, we passed the casks, and Barnabus opened the large arched wooden doors on the far side. I tried not to stare at the cask that hid the entrance to the secret chamber where I’d seen Headmaster Lawrence working on his machine. I had to tell myself it was just a wine barrel like all the others.

Once we were all within the cavernous chamber, Barnabus shut the heavy doors with a resounding
boom
. The chamber we were in was vast, easily as large as the archives or the wine cellar, with heavy stone pillars supporting the floors of the Academy above us. There were no windows, and for the most part the room was empty.

An automaton stood at the center of the room, his head bowed as if he were quietly sleeping on his feet. He was easily the largest automaton I’d seen, fifteen feet tall with limbs like tree trunks and hands that could crush a man’s skull like an egg.

I wasn’t the only one to gape at the enormous machine. The rest of the apprentices had surrounded it, admiring it from just outside the automaton’s reach.

“Allow me to introduce you to Alfred.” The headmaster’s voice echoed against the walls. “He was one of the earliest functional automatons the Order ever created.” Headmaster Lawrence circled the giant with his hands clasped behind his back.

I knew about Alfred. Simon had written extensively about him. It was one thing to study a drawing of him. Seeing him in person was quite another experience.

The headmaster continued as I stared. “While our capabilities with automatons have improved over the years, we still find Alfred useful in teaching new apprentices the mechanics of automaton locomotion and control. Michael, if you would assist me please.”

Michael, being the tallest of us, followed the headmaster around to the back of the automaton, and between the two of them they turned a large wheel affixed to his back. The clacking of whatever coil powered the giant rattled off the bare walls. None of us dared to even whisper as we watched, transfixed.

It took several minutes to wind the machine. When the wheel began to strain and clack against the pressure, the headmaster and Michael finally stopped. Michael staggered back, his arms hanging loose at his sides as if he no longer had the strength to lift them.

“Now then.” The headmaster smacked his hands together and straightened his waistcoat. “If you look closely at the automaton’s chest, you’ll see a series of small levers. Each serves a basic movement, and depending on the combination . . .” His voice droned on. I recognized the lesson immediately. I’d already read it eight times, both in Simon’s journals and also from some records in the archives while I’d been trying to determine the best method to control my own automaton. My mind still heard the words as I recalled what I had read, but I no longer really listened to what the headmaster was saying. It was already imprinted deeply in my well of knowledge.

I found myself staring at the automaton’s face. Unlike so many of the automatons the Amusementists had created, Alfred did not have a smooth, blank mask. Instead gracefully rounded lids covered its eyes, waiting to roll up and wake the sleeping giant. Its squared jaw hung slack, giving it an oafish expression when combined with the sharply pointed brass wedge that served as a nose.

The giant looked alive in a way that the other automatons simply did not, as if it had thoughts and was waiting for the moment of freedom from slumber to express them.

It was so large, greater even than the Minotaur. I tried to shake off my memories of that mechanical monster, but I could not. It had moved so fluidly, as if it were alive and thinking. It would have been beautiful if it hadn’t been so intent on crushing me.

This automaton could easily crush half the monastery.

“. . . And so, as you see, with this configuration of motion, the automaton will take three steps forward, then stop.” I turned my attention to the headmaster just as his hand wrapped around the handle of a lever in the center of the automaton’s chest.

He pulled it, then took several quick steps toward the door.

The class parted like the Red Sea, giving the giant a clear path. Alfred trembled as if shaking off the bitter cold of sleep. Slowly its tarnished lids rolled up, revealing large, shining black spheres.

The automaton’s shaking increased as it lifted one leg and let it fall to the floor with a heavy
boom
. The boys around me gasped and moved farther from the lumbering automaton. We jumbled together, and the press of the crowd moved us away from the door.

Boom.

Another step. The automaton now stood between us and the only means of escape. My heart began to race as I pushed with all my might to get free of the crowd. I ended up next to David. He glanced at me and gave a short nod, as if all of this were critical to our automaton project, but at the moment all I could think about was how ominous each footfall sounded. They echoed like thunder when it breaks directly overhead.

Boom.

The chamber broke out in cheers. David clapped regally.

My fear was irrational. I should have been studying the automaton as well. Books could only do so much, and I did understand things better once I could see how they fit together.

The giant continued to tremble, though its feet remained fixed to the floor. I let out a relieved breath.

The footsteps had stopped. Thank the Lord, they had stopped.

“Now for the next movement,” the headmaster began, but he wasn’t able to finish.

Slowly, like a great bear sniffing for his prey, the giant’s head turned and its body twisted. Its enormous hands clenched into fists the size of anvils as the metal eyelids lowered and those cold black eyes fixed on me. A light appeared inside them, like twin candles were trapped within the glass orbs. Then they glowed red.

“Erm, Headmaster, is it supposed to do that?” Noah asked.

Suddenly the giant threw its tarnished head back and let out an unholy roar that filled the room until I could feel it shaking my bones.

“Run!” I screamed, gathering my skirts and throwing my shoulder into the boy next to me to force him to move.

The giant lifted its fists and starting swinging its arms as he charged straight toward us like a mad ape. The boys scattered like ants. The door was closed, and a press of bodies pushed up against it, preventing anyone from pulling the door open. The headmaster shouted for them to move back. In the confusion Noah fell.

“Noah,” I called, fighting my way back to him, even as Manoj grabbed my arm and tried to pull me away. The giant took a step to the side, then turned and stomped toward Noah. I wrenched my arm from Manoj, and ran. I reached Noah before the giant, and yanked him to his feet, throwing him toward Manoj. Then I dived forward as the giant’s foot landed where Noah’s head had been. The impact cracked the stone.

I tumbled off to the side, rolling over the ground before quickly scampering to my feet in spite of my skirts. The giant turned and faced me. He ground his heavy metal jaw.

It was behaving just like the Minotaur.

Because someone tampered with the automaton and gave it the same commands.

I needed fire. It was the only thing that had confused the Minotaur and rendered it blind.

“Meg, run!” David shouted as he loped to the side. I gripped my skirts and dashed as fast as I could to the back wall, where the large brass braziers were burning.

The giant charged after me like a locomotive, its momentum too great to stop. Panting for breath, I reached the wall and made a sharp turn to the left. The giant crashed into the brazier, spraying burning oil up and over itself.