The Clockwork Fairy Kingdom (9 page)

Denise laughed bitterly. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“He stiffed me,” the man said hurriedly. “And I have
expenses, so I was wondering if you could, you know, help out.”

“He knows where I am?”

“No. Not yet.”

Denise fixed him with her best “Mom” stare.

“Not where you live,” the man amended after a few moments,
withering under her gaze. “Not your address.”

“But he knows this town,” Denise guessed.

The man sighed. “He’s here,” he admitted.

Denise turned, looking at the house. How long would it take
her to grab the kids? At least the rest of the afternoon. Where would she go
this time? How could she play for a new place?

“Denise,” the man said, quietly calling her back. “He won’t
find you here. Not for a while.”

Denise took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart.
The man was right. If they stayed here, around the house, they wouldn’t have to
leave right away.

“So you don’t have any money,” the man ventured.

Denise laughed again, hopeless and sad. “I have to have an
operation by the end of the week and I don’t have a clue how I’m going to pay
for it.”

Old Eli’s truck pulled up to the house. The man started
backing down the driveway. “Stay home. Use the grocery delivery service. Keep
the kids close. And file for that divorce. I’ll keep him distracted. At least
for a while.” He turned and got back into his car.

“Who was that?” Eli asked as he sauntered up the driveway.

“I don’t even know his name,” Denise admitted.

“Are you all right?” Eli asked. “You don’t look so good.”

“No, no, everything’s fine,” Denise said automatically.

The old man tugged on his cap. “Maybe. Maybe not. You don’t
look fine, though. You look pale.”

Denise opened her mouth to protest again that she was fine,
when she abruptly decided
to hell with it
.
She was tired of always making excuses. “It’s my heart,” she said. “I need
surgery. Soon.”

“Want me to watch the kids for you?” Eli offered.

“No...wait, are you sure?”

The old man shrugged. “Sure. Could stay here or at my place.”

“Thank you,” Denise said. The relief made her dizzy. “I can’t
tell you how much that means to me. What a help that will be.”

“Now, you don’t worry yourself about that anymore,” Eli
assured her. “We can work this out.”

“Thank you,” Denise said again. She considered asking him
about breaking the lease, but decided she couldn’t. Not yet. She needed to get
her affairs into order first. To get the money owed her.

To file for a divorce.

***

Dale followed Queen Adele down the grass trail without
hesitation, his earlier fears vanquished. The queen—
his
queen—would protect him from the warriors.

Queen Adele always flew a mere foot ahead of Dale so he had
the chance to watch her wings. The craftsmanship amazed him. The gears
tightened a spring with every down stroke, which was then released, powering
the upstroke. He was sad that he wouldn’t meet the Master Tinker who had
created such a marvel.

They reached the end of the trail abruptly. Dale had been so
fascinated with Queen Adele’s wings he’d barely noticed they’d been walking.
The queen landed beside him, then turned a frowning look at the abandoned
cottage.

“What’s wrong?” Dale asked.

Queen Adele shook her head. “I just despair, sometimes, at
how messy this entrance has to be, so it doesn’t draw the wrong type of
attention.”

Dale nodded, pleased that his queen also found the lack of
order disturbing. “How did the warriors find me?” he asked, remembering the
last time he’d stood there, a shiver going down his back.

Queen Adele took Dale’s hand and turned it over, looking at
the palm. Her hand felt warm, soothing his unease. The mark from the machine
had faded, barely noticeable. Still, the Queen found it easily, pointing to it.
“How did the dwarf
Kostya
know where you’d gone?” she
asked as she let go of his hand.

Dale shrugged. “He just knew. He’s Nora’s friend, not mine,”
he added hastily. He hated lying to his queen, and he didn’t want to help the
dwarf, but he didn’t want to make Nora mad at him either for not following
their plan.

“Your sister should be careful,” the Queen warned. “He’s
untrustworthy.”

“I’ll tell her,” Dale said. “Though I doubt she’ll listen.”
Nora had taken to
Kostya
like he was a homeless
kitten.

Queen Adele smiled at Dale. “There’s listening, and then
there’s listening.” She scooped up a bit of sunlight and set it dancing above
them. Then she gestured at the door. It swung open, revealing cool darkness.
She sent the light ahead of them.

“Is the door a test?” Dale asked, watching the turning gears
as he crossed the threshold.

“Yes. Not all can open it,” Queen Adele replied. “Your
sister, for example, would have a problem if she tried alone.”

That surprised Dale. Nora could do anything, even magic. Did
that mean his talents were just as special?

The Queen directed the little light up to the ceiling. Dale
had remembered a squishy carpet and moldy smell, but neither of those remained.
Old-fashioned wallpaper—red roses in tan columns—covered the walls,
reminding him of nostalgic movies. No furniture took up any space, which made
the room seem bigger, not empty. A white mantel filled most of one wall. The
fireplace gaped dark and empty, as well as the space above it, where a mirror had
once hung. Machines and parts lay scattered under the windows opposite the mantel,
catching and holding Dale’s eye.

Dale turned back to the Queen. She’d said earlier that this
was an entrance—as had
Kostya
—but he didn’t
see a doorway.

“Tell me which one you’d choose to open the door to the stairway,”
the queen replied, indicating the machines.

Dale obediently walked over to study them. A few he
dismissed automatically; though he didn’t know what they did, they felt
incomplete to him, like clock without a mainspring. Finally, Dale settled on a
machine that reminded him of a spider. Levers stuck out from all sides of the
center barrel. Some of the levers were for decoration only, while others moved
gears that spun around the body of the machine.

“Very good!” Queen Adele said, clapping her hands. “I knew
you were clever. And so brave to come in here that first time, all alone, with
no light!”

Dale’s cheeks grew warm her praise.

“Now, are you clever enough to work it?” the queen
challenged.

“I’ll try,” Dale replied seriously. It took him three tries
to find the right combination of levers to set the center barrel whirring. Blue
light sparked, causing Dale to start and almost drop the machine. The queen
laughed softly.

An echoing light outlined the mantel. The shimmer grew
brighter, then the mantel disappeared. An open arch appeared in its place, as
well as the top of a grand marble staircase, leading down into the earth.

Awed, Dale turned to the queen. She beamed up at him, then
told him, “Leave the machine here. You’ll always be able to find it now. That’s
your personal key to my kingdom.” She unfurled her wings again. “Will you join
me?” she asked, indicating the arch.

“Yes,” Dale said. He wished he had some sort of formal
training, so he’d know exactly how to speak with his queen. “Please.” He left
the machine next to the arch and descended after the queen. The staircase
spiraled around and around. Soft lights danced along the rough-cut walls. The
polished marble stairs shone and reflected the light. The stairs were wide
enough, and the ceiling tall enough, that Dale could walk upright.

“This will be one of the few places you’ll be able to stand
up fully, I’m afraid,” Queen Adele told him. “The grand staircase is large
enough for a formation of warriors to fly up together,” she added proudly.

That made sense to Dale, though the mention of the warriors
made him uneasy. As if the queen read his mind, she added, “I must apologize
for how the warriors previously treated you. It was my fault. I should have
sent someone from the court to fetch you. I’d assumed the warriors would merely
escort you. I can’t imagine why they decided to kidnap you.”

“No need to apologize,” Dale murmured, feeling better. He
believed his queen—she wouldn’t have ordered them to hurt him.

“We have a saying:
Never
ask a warrior to listen
.” The queen laughed merrily. “They only know how to
fight.”

Before Dale could ask any more questions about the warriors,
or the other fairies, the spiraling staircase made its final circle. Through another
arch Dale saw a valley; they had come out on the side of a hill. Above him, the
“sky” was carved rock, rounded and lit with thousands of tiny lights, as bright
as daylight. Hundreds of tiny homes set along ordered streets fanned out before
him, from the base of the hill below him to a distant, similar cliff. A stone
wall immediately to his right circled around a grand palace made of brick and
wood. Further to the right, almost touching the wall on that side, stood a
golden tower. To the left, roughly in line with the tower, lay the only open
spot Dale could see, populated with rows of rocks. It took him a moment to
recognize it as a graveyard. Beyond that stood a gleaming white building: A
factory, he realized excitedly.

“It’s beautiful,” Dale told the queen. The streets looked
clean, set out in a grid, the houses well maintained. He bet no one knew
poverty here; no homeless beggars in the streets, no trash carelessly thrown
into the streets.

Queen Adele nodded gravely. “It is. But it’s in trouble. Please,
come see what I mean.” She led him around a bright fountain, splashing merrily,
then along a brick path between smooth white walls. A cluster of austere
buildings lined the right side of the road. Dale realized they were barracks
for the warriors.

At the gate, Dale had to bend over to pass under the arch.
He tried to look at the guards on either side as he walked through. Warriors,
he realized, strong and tall, bigger than the queen. They passed a few servants
along the gravel walkway to the palace. They seemed much smaller than the queen,
with smaller wings. Dale remembered
Kostya
had said
there were three races of fairies—the warriors, the royalty, and the
peasants. Dale wondered if he’d just seen all three.

The door to the palace disappointed Dale: plain wood,
leading to a plain hallway where he had to bend over again. The queen hurried
now, leading Dale along passageways quickly so he only caught a glimpse of the
paintings decorating every wall. The servants all bent their heads with their
eyes downcast. Dale assumed that none dared speak with the queen. He hoped that
he wouldn’t have to leave in a hurry, or without the queen. He’d never find his
way on his own.

After another winding staircase, going deep into the bowels
of the palace, Queen Adele finally paused in front of a set of large, double
doors. “My former husband’s workroom,” she said formally, before throwing them
open.

Dale couldn’t help but gasp. A huge piece of machinery stood
in the center of the room.

“He died before he finished it,” Queen Adele continued
behind Dale. “It is supposed to protect us, to save our little kingdom from any
invaders, human or fairy.”

Dale found he could stand up in the workroom. The machine
reached two fairy stories high, at least. A balcony lined the upper part of the
room.

The machine crouched on three golden legs, looking as if it were
about to leap into the air. The bottom motion works looked finished to Dale’s
critical eye. However, the top gear assemblies weren’t complete. Dale walked
around the machine, marveling at the workmanship. Many of the pieces held
delicate etchings, designs for other workers or repairmen.

A workshop surrounded the machine—rows of tools hung
on the walls, along with small containers of parts and wires. Gears hung in
order, from smallest to largest, on one side. Everything was spotless, not a
spec of dust to be found. The order sang to Dale’s heart. Finally, someplace he
could work. He’d gladly give his soul to be able to live here.

Dale reached up to touch a wire, then drew his hand back
guiltily.

“It’s all right,” the queen gently assured him.

Dale shook his head, ashamed.

“What is it?”

Slowly, Dale showed her his hand. “I must wash my hands
before I touch anything,” he explained, suddenly ashamed of the dirt and grime
under his nails. He looked down at his shorts and sandals, again feeling out of
place. He didn’t belong in this clean room, this formal place, not dressed like
this.

“I’ve already prepared something for you,” Queen Adele said,
opening a closet next to the door.

A white silk shirt, human-sized, hung there, along with a
long-tailed, heavy work coat, also white. Fine brown leather boots stood below
them.

“Perfect,” Dale said. He squashed the voice in his head, the
one that sounded suspiciously like Nora, that accused it of being too perfect.
He didn’t care. She’d never fit in here. She couldn’t even have opened the
door.

Nora watched the piece in her hands grow more lopsided with
every knot. She threw it down on the bed beside her and banged her head against
the wall. “
Kostya
, what am I doing wrong now?” Nora
hated how whiny her voice sounded, but she was too frustrated to try to change
it. Dale would have teased her about being three years old, but Dale wasn’t
there—he was meeting with the fairy queen.

Kostya
put down the machinery he’d
been tinkering with, came over to the bed, and picked up the offending
knotwork
. He clacked his tongue as he drew his finger along
the piece. “Threes, my dear. You always forget: patterns of three.”

“Knitting is odd and even rows,” Nora grumbled. “The
patterns are always divisible by two. Not three.” She knew that wasn’t true,
but she was too frustrated to be truthful.

Kostya
patted her knee. “I’m sure
you’ll get it. You just have to be patient.”

“All right. I’ll start again.”

Kostya
tutted
at Nora. “Remember what I said about used pieces?” he said, handing her the
knotwork
she’d been working on.

With an aggrieved sigh, Nora took it from the dwarf. “I
know. I know. Even this little bit has some magic in it—enough to cause
problems. But I’m not learning anything taking it apart! Can’t I just start
again?” Ripping apart the
knotwork
didn’t feel the
same as ripping apart a knitting project. It wasn’t creative destruction. There
was nothing creative or fun about it.

Kostya
pulled the piece down and
looked at it critically. “You only have to rip it out to there,” he said,
indicating a mere inch of
knotwork
.

Nora sighed and acquiesced. This project felt like it was
going nowhere: two steps backwards for every step forward.

Using fingernails, teeth, and a safety pin, Nora pulled out
the irritating knots. Finally she reached the spot
Kostya
had indicated and started following his pattern again. “Left, left, right,” she
muttered under her breath. “Right, right, left.” She stopped and showed
Kostya
when she successfully completed a new row. “They’re
like little eyes, aren’t they? Each knot?”

Kostya
looked at Nora strangely,
eyebrows raised.

“It’s supposed to be a bracelet to help me see, right? To
find the edges between reality and illusion? So the knots, to me, kind of look
like eyes.”

“Very good,”
Kostya
said. He
nodded at Nora as if he approved, but he wasn’t smiling. He looked upset. “That’s
exactly right.” He handed back the piece to Nora with surprising reluctance.

“Good,” Nora said, turning her attention back to her work. “Now
all I have to do is remember the pattern.” She paused for a moment. “You know,
the screws that Dale took out of that fairy machine—they all had a kind
of three-pronged indentation. These knots have threes all over them.”

“Yes, yes,”
Kostya
said. “Fairy
magic—all magic—is based on threes. You know the most stable chair
in the world is a three-legged stool, right?”

Nora hadn’t known that. She also didn’t see the connection,
between stability and magic. “I don’t understand.”

“You will,”
Kostya
said, finally
smiling at her. He turned back to his tinkering and Nora tried knotting again.
Her mind wandered, though, and soon the piece was lopsided again.

“I hate this!” Nora complained. She threw the piece across
the room. It instantly disappeared into a pile of yarn heaped by the door. “Take
that,” Nora muttered. If magic could just show up in her life, it could
disappear just as quickly, she decided.

Kostya
clucked his tongue. “I need
to go get some parts,” he told her. “From my tunnels up north.”

Nora nodded, arms folded over her chest. “Good. I need to
work on something else for a while.” She was glad Dale didn’t hear
Kostya
talk about his other tunnels. He would have wanted
to know why the dwarf hadn’t stayed there the first night.

“I will see you in the morning,”
Kostya
said, bowing slightly.

“Okay,” Nora said with ill grace. At that moment she didn’t
care if she ever saw the dwarf again.

“You will be able to learn it,”
Kostya
told Nora as he paused on top of stacked book under the window—a
staircase he’d built for himself to get in and out of the room easily. “You’re
picking it up much more quickly than I’d thought a human could.”

“Thanks,” Nora said, unsure if she’d just been insulted or
not.

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

After
Kostya
left, Nora got off
her bed and wandered over to the pile where she’d thrown the piece she’d been
working on. She picked up a second piece laying there as well. Instead of
working from the top down, knotting side to side, she’d tried experimenting
with making a loose crochet chain along the long side of the bracelet, then
knotting from there.
Kostya
had stopped her, telling
her she had to learn the proper form first. While she understood what he meant,
she still knew she wanted to play. She’d learn faster if it wasn’t so serious.

Nora put it down and picked up a failed hat. She’d done a
swatch to get the measurements right, but when she’d started knitting, the
pattern had stretched and it was several inches too big. Only a monstrous giant
would have a head that big. With glee, Nora started tugging the stitches out,
tearing the piece apart. As the hat unraveled, a new image took place in her
eye. Now that she understood the properties of the yarn, she knew what she
needed to make from it instead. A cool shawl appeared to her mind’s eye, not a
pattern she’d ever seen, a twisting knot that doubled back on itself and took
advantage of the easy looping of the yarn.

This was magic Nora understood, how destruction brought
about new creations. Now, if only she could do that with the knot magic.

With a sigh, Nora quickly wrapped the freed yarn into a
ball, then dropped it onto the other abandoned projects scattered on the floor
and picked back up the failed knot experiment.

On her way back to her perch on the bed, Nora took a detour
to the corner where
Kostya
had been working. A
partially assembled piece with a scarlet-jeweled body and lever-like legs
caught her eye. It looked like some kind of insect. Two thin, filigreed wire
wings stuck out at awkward angles near the shoulders. The head lay next to it.
Tiny wheels and gears filled the open brain case. It didn’t have eyes or teeth
yet. She knew those would determine if it was cute or creepy.

Nora didn’t know what the bug was for, but she didn’t trust
it. She didn’t trust the fairies or
Kostya
. She might
have been initially charmed; however, there was something off with him, with
the whole situation. When she went back to her bed, she debated which piece she’d
work on—the one that was her own experiment, or the one following the
dwarf’s strictures.

With a sigh, Nora picked up
Kostya’s
piece, attacking the knots again. She didn’t trust herself, or her own vision,
either.

***

Kostya
left Nora’s room, then went
to sit by the side of the road, waiting for the Tinker, Dale. The gray,
overcast, early evening suited his contemplative mood. He pushed behind the
first row of grass, pressing down a circle of stems to make a comfortable seat
for himself. When he sat very still, no one—not human nor fairy—could
see him waiting. Cicadas and the occasional gull broke the quiet of the
afternoon, but even the wind seemed subdued.

Nora had quickly taken to the
knotwork
—too
quickly. She’d found her own path with her knitting instead of being forced
down a more artistic, but less natural road, like drawing or painting.
Kostya
wasn’t sure if it had been her Grandma Lily’s
influence or, more likely, Dale’s. Having a twin gave Nora more confidence at a
younger age than most Makers ever achieved.

Kostya
had still been able to
subtly mislead her. Even if she finished a bracelet following the pattern he’d
set for her, it wouldn’t be very powerful. He’d set the eye knots to look at
each other, instead of outward. The piece could be used for meditation, not
breaking illusions.

However,
Kostya
didn’t know how
long he’d be able to deflect the girl from her path. Making her take out the
knots from her failed attempts merely slowed her, not stopped her.

Then there was the boy. He’d been harder to turn to
Kostya’s
purpose. Stubborn, that one—possibly more
stubborn than his sister.
Kostya
had tried to
influence his dreams and been soundly rejected. Still,
Kostya
did what he could to weaken Dale’s natural defenses, making him more
susceptible to suggestion.

When
Kostya
saw Dale walking down
the road after meeting Queen Adele, he realized he’d succeeded, too well. The
boy was completely enthralled by the fairies. A net of power wrapped around his
aura, contracting his spirit and his will. He couldn’t lift a finger to defend
himself. The net was wrapped too tightly.

Nora wouldn’t see it, at least, not at first. It would take
her a day, perhaps two, before she realized something was wrong with her twin.

Kostya’s
plans of carefully
introducing one
magicked
jewel at a time came
crashing down. Nora would put a stop to the fairy magic, sooner rather than
later. Too soon for
Kostya’s
plans.

The boy walked heavily up the driveway to his house,
weighted down with fairy ropes. How many days would he return here? How long
before he ran away to live with the fairies, just because it was easier on his
soul?

Once Dale had entered his house,
Kostya
left his resting spot. It was going to be a very long night. He started walking
up the road, heading north, then to the coast. He hoped his little boat still
stayed hidden, that his stash of jewels and supplies hadn’t been raided, that
the clouds cleared so he at least had the light of the stars to guide him.

Kostya
had started making an
ohotnik
, a little
bug to keep track of the twins. Dale would appreciate the craftsmanship, while
Nora would find the creature attractive.

Now, though,
Kostya
planned to
modify his design. The little
ohotnik
would still track. But it would also lay eggs:
powerful, explosive eggs.

***

When Denise came home later that afternoon, Nora’s casual
assurance that Dale had met some girl did nothing to assure Denise,
particularly not after the visit from the strange man. Dale’s cell phone went
straight to voice mail, and when she tried to find it, it showed he was out of
range.

However, asking Nora for more details only brought an
exasperated sigh. “Mom, he’s okay. Stop worrying. You’re worse than he is.”

Denise bit her lip and didn’t respond. Nora was obviously in
the middle of a project. Yarn was spread all over her room, looped around the
back rungs of her desk chair as well as clipped to her bed. Nora practiced
knots, some kind of macramé. “What are you making?”

“A bracelet,” Nora said, frowning at the piece in front of
her. “If I can figure out how to twist the knots, first this way, then that...”

Denise left Nora alone, recognizing that she’d get little
cooperation from her daughter while a crafting problem took up her attention.

In the office, Denise pulled out the divorce papers. She’d
never go back to Chris. Yet, filing the papers meant the formal end to her
marriage, and that made her sad. Though she’d asked for child support from
Chris, she really wanted nothing to do with him.

Still waiting in the drawer sat the restraining order
paperwork. Denise wanted it ready, just in case. She knew she should file it as
well.

Sighing, Denise put the paperwork away. Thinking about Chris
was actually more difficult than billing her clients. She told herself again
that Dale was fine, that she had nothing to worry about, before she started
putting her plan into action, determining the late and near-late bills, and
firing off letters.

Dale didn’t get home until just before dinner. Nora had told
Denise to go ahead and order the pizza, that Dale would get home before it
arrived. She acted just as dismissive as she had that afternoon, but Denise
could tell she was worried.

Denise heard the front door open and shut, bringing her
attention back from her work. “Dale?”

Her son’s head popped in the door. “Hey. Pizza tonight? I’m
starving.”

“Where have you been?” Denise asked, trying not to sound
accusatory.

“Didn’t Nora mark me out? Jeez. Nora!” Dale called, storming
away.

“Dale, come back here,” Denise said, turning off her
computer.

“Yeah?” Dale’s head popped back around the edge of the door.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Dale slowly shuffled into the office, hands stuffed into the
pockets of his shorts. “I was out,” he said, addressing the tops of his shoes.

“Where?” Denise asked. This wasn’t like Dale. What was
wrong?

“At the beach.”

“Alone?”

Dale barely shook his head.

Denise finally realized why Dale was acting so strangely: He
was shy. “Who were you with?” she asked gently.

“Adele,” Dale murmured. “She’s this girl I met.”

“Where does she live?”

“Down the road,” Dale said, jerking his head.

“I’d like to meet this Adele,” Denise said.

Dale looked up, his eyes wide. “No! Not yet. She’s shy, and
Nora, and—” He shook his head. “Not yet.”