Loris of New Castle

Chapter 12

Perhaps I could not outrun my cousins anymore, but toes or not, I was betting I still had more guts. They seemed like the sort who always followed the rules and did just what they were told. Sure enough, I had just made it to the top of the building moving from window to window, up corner bricks and finally to the roof escape ladder when all three of them came back, looking and calling for me. I hid out of sight on the roof until, agitated, they left to look elsewhere.

My main concern for climbing onto the rooftops had been to escape the streets below. When I had a chance to stand up and look around, I realized it was probably the best move I had made so far. New Castle spread out like a glittering gem before me. It was a great, dazzling machine where everyone had their place, and everyone knew where they were going. The heart of New Castle, a giant white dome, wasn’t in Ward 1, but it was right next to it. Everything seemed to radiate out from that point. For a while I just watched, fascinated, as rivers of people flowed up and down the avenues, pulling their handcarts or pedaling rickshaws and pedicabs for larger cargo or human transportation. I saw a little two-wheel contraption painted bright green and purple pulled by an elk at a brisk trot go whisking by, so I decided to follow.

Carefully, I made my way across the roof. The moment of decision came when I reached the first skyway bridge. From below they had looked impossibly thin and narrow. That impression did not change much now that I was looking at it up close. A sudden clatter of feet alerted me to the approach of someone else. Hurriedly, I ducked behind a roof top. A letter carrier, the girl I had seen earlier was dashing back along her way. I looked out over the rooftops to see where she might be headed. With a jolt, I realized there was another letter carrier, a boy this time, running towards the walkway from the opposite direction. Well, this would be interesting. If two carriers reached the bridge at the same time, who got to go first?

It turned out, they both did. Without even missing a beat, the lad yelled ‘hi’ just as the girl shouted ‘lo’. Then with a great leap, he did a handspring just as she tucked and rolled under him. The two landed opposite and kept running as though nothing had happened, never slowing at all. My mouth may have been hanging open a little longer than I intended.

If two, soft cogs could pull a stunt like that off, there was no reason I, the wild Loris, should not also be able to master the skyways. Cautiously, I put my hands on the bridge then stepped up. The second my shoes hit metal, I knew it was a mistake. These dratted things were just too slick on the bottom. If I slipped even a little, I would certainly pull a header right over the edge. For a while I pondered trying to figure out how the mail carrier’s had run so well. Looking closer at the walk way gave me my answer, something I reluctantly would have to acknowledge Jack for. He was the best tracker in the tribe, after all, and he could never help explaining just how he came to his brilliant conclusions. Even though the sides were made of metal, the bridge itself had a strip of wood boards running down the middle with just a little bit of a gap in between each. I could also see the dust of footprints on the edge where the roof was riveted to the bridge. Their shoes had odd ridges on the bottom of them, probably to give better grip. The bottoms of my little button up shoes were completely smooth. They would have to go.

Without a thought more, I peeled off my shoes then my socks. Much better! A second later I was back up on the bridge and with determination set off across. I found going a little faster actually helped. I knew where I wanted my feet to go, so as long as I kept up momentum, I could trot across just fine, toes or not, since I stayed mostly on the balls of my feet anyways. When I slowed down to hop off was actually when I began wobbling and had more problems staying upright.

In no time at all, I caught up with the strange two-wheeled elk carriage. It turned out it was heading for the great white dome in the middle of New Castle. The Circus, as the signs indicated, was a road so large six whole elk carriages could parade about it shoulder to shoulder, and that appeared to be what everyone came here to do. The wide road looped all the way around the center dome, thirteen different roads spinning off it in their respective directions. There was also a large, green lawn with four different fountains and statues around it, all of heroic and noble looking people, some of them on strange horn-less elks. I think I remember them being called ‘horses’ in lessons. It seemed like a very popular spot. There weren’t only Wardensans out in their carriages looking splendid in all their bizarre colors and get ups, but all sorts strolled and chatted around the Circus.

I spotted what I presumed to be a class of Alchemists crawling about on the lawn with magnifying lenses as another woman in flowing blue robes stood in their midst and lectured on the cultivation of this particular winter rye. A few Thaumaturges scoffed while rolling by on their own wheeled shoes. One had something that looked like a sail sticking up out of his bowler, which as he explained to his mates, would allow him to skate by without all the work of moving his legs. Unfortunately, a rather large gust of wind caught his sail at that moment and propelled him unhappily into a nearby fountain. Luckily, for him, half a dozen of his friends immediately produced ‘insta-dry’ apparatuses. I was alarmed how many of them employed open flames. It seemed many of the city’s cogs were also enjoying my same pastime of people watching. They dressed more utilitarian, and although in smaller batches, many sported similar colors and fashions of the gleeful Wardensans whizzing around. I couldn’t believe how happy everyone seemed. It all rather took me back. Then the clock chimed.

It seemed the dome was one large, mechanical clock house. What I hadn’t been able to see from my vantage point was that panels around the dome actually slid open, and as far as I could tell, full scale figures, completely automated, did a funny dance and whirl, bowing and arching as their cogs and paint gleamed, before disappearing back into the dome. It was so delightful, I found myself clapping my hands in appreciation to the music their bronze bells played.

However, as the sun dropped lower and the last notes of the cheery chime echoed over the hill, I realized this had implications for myself as well. As if on cue, all of the cogs lolling on the walkways and all the Wardensans prancing around the circus turned towards their respective avenues and left. Everyone from the performers on the green to the maintenance men cleaning the fountains around the hub picked up their gear, smiles on their faces, and headed home. I had better do the same if I didn’t want to be ratted out by my cousins.

Hastily, I stretched out my limbs again and took off across the rooftops. I had a pretty good sense of which direction I needed to head. The only difficulty was making speed while still dodging letter carriers and Regulars. I hadn’t seen any for most of the afternoon, but now that the city was shutting down for the evening, I had a feeling the presence of the city’s night watch, the Owls as they were called, would soon emerge to watch over New Castle’s doings at night.

Since New Castle prided itself so very much on its innovative technology, I was a little curious as to how all the street lamps for the different wards came on at night. I knew the hearth and kitchen of each home could be restarted or stoked by sending a cog to the city Salamander run by the university and kept lit by efforts of both the Alchemists and the Thaumaturges. But did that mean every single lamp in New Castle was also lit by the scholars? Soon enough I had my answer.

“Lights on! Lights on! Wick ups here! Wick ups here!”

An ancient, little man with a barrel on his back as large as he was slowly made his way down the street with the aid of a long, brass walking stick. When he reached the corner he pushed a button on his walking stick, and suddenly an extra length of pole shot out, doubling its length. On the end of this was a small glow of a lit ember. The man took some time checking the bottom of the street lamp. He pulled out a hose connected to the barrel on his back and took a few minutes to top off the tank in the bottom of the lamp. Then when all seemed right, he held the ember up to a little, white wick inside the lamp’s glass case and with a small hiss, the lamp came on.

About that time a little boy came trotting out with an oil can.

“Oy Mac! Wick me up, Lamplighter?”

He handed the lamplighter a few coins in exchange for a twist of wick and a fill up of oil from the barrel before they parted ways with a merry “Good evenin’”. I wondered how many lamps the one lamplighter tended, but I had just made it to the next row of houses before I saw another one, a woman this time, also lighting a lamp. It seemed every street had at least one lamp lighter, and every street had at least twenty lights. Besides making for an ever present glow making, it also made it much easier for me to navigate. It also meant quite a few cogs had the duty of keeping the city lit.

I wondered if this was their only job or if the lamplighters tended to other things during the day? It occurred to me that if things didn’t work out with the Forsythes, I could make a very good lamplighter, especially if they got to sleep all day and spend most of the evening lighting lamps and passing out oil.

Up here above the city, I finally had the opportunity to marvel at all the Castelians had accomplished. Since Ward 1 was so far up the hill, I could actually see other Wards spreading outwards like the petals of a rose. When I stopped for a moment and really squinted, I could just about see past Purgatory to little lights and rises of smoke that I imagined would be the Shoals. Moron would be out there somewhere. So would Beka. I wondered how they were doing. Did they ever think of me these days?. The Shoals had their own towers and chimneys, much smaller than New Castle but impressive in their own right. I was sure Moron would say something like that then Beka would roll her eyes and say something about creating even better chimmeys.

Off to one edge, I thought I spotted something like a speckled goose egg nestled in the trees. I held up my thumb, trying to judge the scale. It would be enormous! Nearly as large as a Warden’s house. Was that someone’s project? Would Beka be interested in something like that? It seemed designed to blend into the foliage, so maybe it was supposed to be a secret, like Beka and Moron’s workshops.

For an odd moment I actually felt a bit lonely and found myself wondering what Beka and Moron were up to. How had Beka done on her entrance exams? I never found out whether or not she had made it. If she had, did she manage her dream of becoming a thaumaturge? If she had, what was Moron doing? Would he be lonely? I shook my head partially disgusted. Most likely they had both completely forgotten about me as soon as I was whisked away.

But then there was also Nurse Jane and Raikan. Nurse Jane seemed like she wouldn’t mind if I visited. Then again, it was her job to be nice to everyone. Raikan was the same. They too had probably forgotten me as soon as I left. For a moment my eyes stung. Angrily I ground the back of my hand into them until it came away wet, but the stinging stopped. There was no reason to dwell on Purgatory. I needed to focus more on making my place in New Castle. If only there weren’t so many blasted rules!

With a sigh I picked up my pace, remembering how hysterical the staff had been upon my disappearance earlier in the morning. If that’s how jumpy they were to sleeping under the bed, I could only imagine their reaction to me ditching lessons at the Atrium and running across the rooftops. I reached home just soon enough to glimpse the back of my cousins disappearing inside the front door.

Drat! No way to head them off there. There were also no skyways that connected directly to the Forsythe house, so I couldn’t duck in an upstairs window to make it look like I was there all along. It took more maneuvering, but I launched myself into a close enough tree. I tumbled a little bit, but eventually righted myself and began crawling along its limbs until I could get closer to the house. I planned to drop into the back garden area and explain I was exploring them since I was homesick for the forest. It was the best I could come up with.

“Who-who’s there?”

I froze and looked down the length of the tree branch I was wobbling on. I hadn’t realized that the furthest tips hung above a window. With my weight on it, they were softly scratching on the pane. When no one else called out, I began making my way downwards again.

I was quickly running out of sturdy branches to step on. If only there hadn’t been someone in the room with the window, I might have been able to slide down into it. As it was, my best bet was getting as low as I could then dropping into the bushes. I carefully scooted towards the end of the branch so it would begin to tip down, closer to the ground. It again scraped across the window ever so lightly. Whoever was sitting on the other side of it must have been either waiting for it or had incredibly good hearing. The window slid open. I froze and tried to hide in the foliage as much as possible.

Then an angel leaned out. One of the Ayfortees tribesmen had tried once to explain the notion of an angel to me. In my limited experience, they sounded much like the Roadies’ version of fairies; they just lived in the clouds instead of fields of mushrooms. The one thing both beings had in common was their unearthly beauty. I never understood what that meant until the white, glistening face leaned out the window, head ringleted by a halo of dark, cherry wood twists, like fine fingers of ivy. What really captivated me, however, were the eyes. They were golden, like the color of honey, and they shone as if they saw things that I could not.

“I’ve been waiting. I’m ready,” the fairy angel creature said breathlessly then held out a hand.

So enraptured was I while staring at this ethereal being, I barely registered that the bending branch I was on had kept bending. From behind me there was a loud crack, and suddenly my weight dropped. I gasped and grabbed another branch to stabilize, but it was too thin and snapped in my fingers.

“Jump!”

I looked up. The fairy-angel had one arm out, leaning out the window. It was as though everything slowed to a crawl. I jumped, using the bounce of the branch to propel me towards the window.

Somewhere in the house someone was screaming. It sounded like the voice from this morning. Below, the cog gardeners ran as fast as they could, but they were barely moving from my perspective as they searched the grounds. Wind blew and birds flew by the sunset colored clouds, but all I saw were the golden eyes I was on a collision course for. A hand as delicate as the teacups my relatives used raised slowly, like it was moving through water. For one second our fingers touched then interlocked. Then time restarted. I hadn’t jumped far enough.

With a gasp I felt my weight drop, and I plummeted. However, the fairy-angel was still holding onto me. I don’t know how those birch-thin arms found enough strength, but they gave a mighty pull. It just enough for me to get an arm and one hand on to the sill of the window.

“Look out! I’m coming in!” I grunted as my body thudded against the side of the house then I kicked my legs, feet scraping against the wall as I began pulling myself up.

“You can’t! I’ll go get-“

But with another grunt, I pushed myself up then rolled in the window on top of my savior, much to the surprise of the fairy-angel. I slid off onto the floor. For a second I sat there puffing and panting as the fairy-angel and I stared at each other. I waved my hand nonchalantly.

“See, not nearly as hard as climbing rooftops.”

I sat up as a commotion reached the door of the room. I scanned the room quickly for a hiding place. It was extraordinarily plush, even more lavish than my room. This one had all sorts of strange gadgets and gizmos all over the shelves and floors. Some had wind-up parts. Others were shaped like animals and had wheels attached so they could roll across the floor. The ceiling was strewn with glittering constellations and an evening skyline over a forest painted across the walls. Dangling from the ceiling cross beams were tiny, metal birds with jeweled eyes. In all the loveliness, however, I couldn’t find a place to hide. The door opened.

With a grunt the angel fairy grabbed a heavy blanket, threw it over me, and then sat on me.

“Don’t move!”

I had no intention of that, even though this creature was now lounging in my lap, incredibly light for being nearly as tall as I was, as far as I could tell. From under the blanket I heard the door finish creaking open.

“Master Bentley!” a breathless voice started, “we’re so sorry to interrupt you sir, but…” they hesitated.

“Really Brissi? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something here?”

I decided the voice was a he, young, and at the moment very whiny, but definitely a ‘he’, even though I had never heard of a male of any type being this pretty.

“I know, I know, Master Bentley, it’s just…well, your sister Loris has gone wandering again, and we were told to check everywhere.”

“Really?” Bentley asked dryly. “So somehow this Loris magically guessed where I was secreted away, stole the key to this wing from the Iron Crane, slipped past all the Regs disguised as butlers, unlocked three more doors to get here, and slipped in without me knowing. Or maybe she walked through walls? Or flew in?” His tone turned to mocking, “Really, Brissi, I know the Iron Crane orders you about like a doll on a string, but I don’t think she’d mind you exercise a little common sense now and then, don’t you?”

I actually felt a little sorry for Brissi. Bentley was saving me from more trouble, but she was just doing her job. The more I heard him talk, the more he reminded me of Gimlet.

“I-I’m so sorry Master Bentley!” Brissi sounded nearly on the verge of tears now. “I-I just, I-I’ll go now…”

Bentley nodded, and I could imagine him giving the same sort of dismissive wave Gimlet was prone to.

There was a pause, but I didn’t hear the door close.

“Ah, Master Bentley…” she was still here.

“What Brissi?” There was genuine impatience in Bentley’s voice.

“It’s just your chair. I don’t remember it-“

“Oh yes!” Bentley stood up, and for one terrifying moment my heart pounded as he put a hand on my head. “I made it this afternoon. I wanted something a little more ergonomic, a little more close to the ground so I could work on my posture and all. I’m afraid it’s not very aesthetic yet, a bit homely really, but what can you do with found junk? Now, if Mother would agree to let me attend the Thaumaturges-“

“Ahh I see! A ground chair,” Brissi’s nervous laugh interrupted Bentley’s long explanation. “I’m afraid you know Lady Pilosa’s orders. But I’m sure we could have better parts brought up here if you tell us just what exactly you need.”

“That’s what I’m saying, Brissi!” Bentley actually stomped his foot. I was half afraid he’d forget I was there and smack me in the head. “How can I know what I need for my inventions if I never get to see what people are making and creating?! Hmm? I swear, you never hear a word I say!”

Brissi was rescued from another lengthy lecture by someone else calling to her down the hall. She hastily excused herself then darted away. I heard one more pair of feet enter the room and shuffle around. Bentley groaned and griped some more, and this time a male voice answered him as Bentley made a show of flopping back onto his “chair”.

“Find anything, Daly?”

The man hesitated then answered, “No sir. But one of the gardeners thought he-“

“Then you should go check in the garden, Daly. Seriously, it’s like you cogs have nothing better to do than bother me all day. Go away already!”

And poor Daly left as well, shutting the door behind himself.

For a few minutes I continued sitting there as still as possible. It seemed like Bentley had no intention of moving, so I flipped the blanket down and glared at him.

“Oy! Lorus is not really a chair. Get off!”

There was a pause, then I heard Bentley sound rather pleased from the other side of the blanket, “But I’m rather comfortable. Even if your legs are a bit lumpy.” Bentley grinned at me then picked up a book and pretended to be absorbed in it.

“Lorus show you lumpy legs!” I bounced my legs and knees up and down jostling Bentley off my lap.

“Ow! Ow! Ow! Not so hard, Loris. I’m delicate you know!” he complained as I dropped him on the floor.

I snorted and stood up brushing my skirt off.

“Not too delicate to push other people around. If Bentley worries about getting hurt, he better be careful who he pushes.”

We eyed each other for a bit. His eyes didn’t seem so golden now, more of a tawny brown. There was something eerily familiar about his face though. I just couldn’t put my finger on it. Then something occurred to me.

“So you already know about Lorus? Lorus didn’t know about you? Why you not there with other cousins last night when Lorus arrive?”

Bentley made a noise of disgust then rolled over on his stomach to push himself up.

“Of course I already knew about you. The cogs have been talking about nothing else for the past month.”

He walked over to the window. At some point he’d pulled it closed, but now he pushed it back open and studied the tree I had sprang from. With a sigh he turned back then put a wide smile on his face.

“Of course I know all about you. You’re, Loris, my fake sister.”