Clockwork Menagerie: A Shadows of Asphodel Novella (10 page)

Inside, a grizzled conductor in a blue uniform leaned against the wall, smoking a cigarette. A passenger slept on a bench, his luggage scattered beneath him. The telegraph operator hunched behind a counter, scribbling down an incoming telegram. No more than a boy, really, with blond peach fuzz instead of a proper beard. He looked like he should be delivering telegrams, not operating a piece of delicate equipment.

An idea hit Konstantin. Maybe he
didn’t
have to mug the telegraph operator.

He strolled over and spoke English with a deliberate American accent. “Hello, sir.”

Frowning, the operator replied in rapid-fire Russian.

“I speak no Russian,” Konstantin drawled. “Telegram?” He pantomimed writing, and received a pen and paper.

Holding his breath, he wrote down a message, also in English.

St. Petersburg

Grand Hotel Europe

Theodore Himmel

Returning by TS rail. Very cold. Meet me. – K

He slid the paper to the telegraph operator. “Collect, please.”

“
Da
.” The boy tapped out the message in Morse code. At least he was efficient enough.

Snuffing his cigarette, the grizzled conductor advanced. “Passport?”

“One moment.” Konstantin pretended to rummage in his pockets while listening to the Morse code.
T… S… R… A… I… L…

That had to be enough for Himmel.

“Excuse me.” Konstantin sidestepped the conductor. Exiting the station, his shoulders tensed, expecting a bullet in the back. The door banged open. When the conductor shouted, he shouted back, “I speak no Russian!”

At least Americans had a reputation for being loud.

Konstantin dodged into the forest and distanced himself from the station. Fang loped alongside him. Sunrise at his back, he hiked in a mindless oblivion. He had no hypothesis for how far he was from St. Petersburg.

Minutes dragged into hours.

Fang touched her nose to the back of his hand. When she whimpered, he frowned. “Yes?”

The dog whined, ears quivering, and licked her chops. She had to be hungry.

“You aren’t alone.” His knees trembled as he walked. “God, I would pay a hundred koronas for schnitzel. Or dumplings in soup.” His mouth watered so hard it hurt. “Or pastries stuffed with spinach and feta cheese.” He had eaten savory pastries in Greece, while fortifying the Hex in the islands of the Dodecanese.

Motivated by this imaginary feast, Konstantin trudged onward. Fang trailed in his footsteps, her head held low in defeat. “Fang!” He stumbled over a boulder and decided to stay down. “You would love frankfurters.”

Fang yawned. What a blasé dog.

“Perhaps Russians import them from Vienna. Though there must be trade sanctions …” He laughed at his own delirious ramblings.

When he slumped on the snow, Fang threw back her head with a bloodcurdling howl.

“Quiet!” He shushed the dog. “This is a clandestine mission.”

Fang howled again. Squinting, Konstantin stared at the blank expanse of the sky. Nothing. He closed his blurry eyes. Christ almighty, he was tired. He wanted to curl in the snow and sleep, but the damn dog wouldn’t stop howling. When she paused to inhale, another sound cut through the winter air: the drone of engines.

A zeppelin cleared the treetops.

onstantin dragged himself to his feet. The zeppelin’s
fins bore the black double-headed eagle of Austria-Hungary.

The
Nachtigall
.

“Help!” He waved his arms over his head. “Please, help!”

Propellers buzzing, the zeppelin held her own against a headwind. The
Nachtigall
dumped water ballast and dropped in altitude, her gondola grazing the snow. Himmel jumped through a hatch and hit the ground running.

Konstantin staggered toward the captain, his legs refusing to comply. “Theodore.”

“God, it’s you.” Himmel caught him by the shoulders and hauled him upright. “I flew day and night looking for you.”

“The telegram arrived at the hotel?”

“Yes.” Himmel marched him toward the zeppelin. “Hurry.”

Konstantin fumbled to grip the rungs by the hatch, but his numb fingers betrayed him. Himmel boosted him inside. When he crawled into the airship’s underbelly, his eyes watered at the difference in temperature.

“Wait!” Shivering violently, he looked through the hatch. “Fang!”

The white shepherd bounded across the snow and jumped aboard.

Himmel glared at Fang. “What the hell is this mongrel doing on my airship?”

“She saved my life.” Konstantin patted her head. “She’s a hero.”

Fang barked and wagged her tail.

“You must be delusional.” When Konstantin wobbled, Himmel grabbed his elbow. “Christ, don’t fall through the hatch.”

Konstantin teetered on the brink of tears. “I knew you would find me.”

“This way.” Without ceremony, Himmel marched him into his quarters. “Now.”

Stripped naked by the captain, Konstantin hugged himself, his teeth chattering. “What—?”

“Get in bed.” The mattress creaked as Himmel sat, unbuckling his mechanical arm. “That’s an order, Falkenrath.”

“Yes, sir.” Konstantin obeyed, crawling under the sheets.

Himmel tucked a quilt over him before joining him, the heat of his skin searing. “God! You’re colder than a witch’s tits.”

“That’s a disgusting thought.”

“It’s true.”

“No, it isn’t.” Konstantin huddled against the length of Himmel’s body, warming his back. “Thank you.”

“Best remedy for hypothermia.” He sounded so gruff. “Not much to do about frostbite.”

Konstantin tensed. He tried to wiggle his fingers; he felt like a rusted puppet. His skin prickled with a thousand needles.

“Does it hurt?” Himmel said.

“It itches.”

“Good. That’s your circulation returning.”

“God, it itches horribly!”

He caught his hand. “Try not to scratch.”

“So bossy.” Konstantin managed a smile. “When did my telegram arrive?”

Himmel’s arm tightened around him. His mustache tickled Konstantin’s neck as he sighed. “After I searched all of St. Petersburg.”

“I’m sorry, I should have told you where I went.”

“You weren’t subtle. Kotlin Island was clearly your primary target, but I found nothing.”

“Was
she
there?”

“No sign of the countess. Though she contacted Baron von Bach.”

Although Konstantin’s skin warmed, his blood ran cold. “What did she say?”

“That you seduced an officer in exchange for military secrets, but he fed you false information before reporting you.”

“Which officer?”

“That Dmitriev man.”

“Alexsandr? That’s absurd!” Konstantin rolled to face him. “I would never dream of approaching him in such a manner.”

“I believe you.” Himmel’s eyes darkened. “But the ambassador didn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t know that I flew out for you. He’s been ignoring the situation, as if you deserve to be punished by the Russians.”

Konstantin’s stomach plummeted. “He believes the countess?”

“I don’t know.”

“She caught me looking at the psychothaumaturgy in her laboratory.”

Himmel clenched his jaw. “I’m not sure it matters now.”

“But Theodore—”

“You don’t understand the severity of this situation.”

“Neither do you.” Konstantin shivered despite the warmth on his skin. “If the countess builds more beasts on the scale of the clockwork dragon, we won’t be able to defend Königsberg. Russia outnumbers us two to one.”

“I don’t care about Königsberg.”

“If Königsberg falls, the rest of Prussia is at risk. The German Empire itself.”

“You could have been killed.” Pain roughened Himmel’s voice. “Frozen, executed, starved to death in Siberia.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your apologies. I want you here. With me.”

Konstantin pressed his face to Himmel’s shoulder and inhaled the clean smell of his sweat. Himmel kissed his cheek, mustache tickling, and growled out a sigh. They lay together, listening to the drone of the airship.

Though he knew the safety of Himmel’s arms was sadly an illusion.

Sitting outside the office of Baron von Bach, Konstantin shuffled through papers. He had written a report on recent events: the clockwork menagerie, the psychothaumaturgy laboratory on Kotlin Island, the train to Siberia.

Would it be enough? What could he bring as proof?

Mouth parched, he leapt to his feet when the baron swept open the door. The ambassador’s face looked stony. “Enter.”

Konstantin clutched the folder. He followed von Bach into his office and balanced on the edge of a leather armchair. “Sir.”

“What do you have to say?”

“Here are my findings on the Russian technomancy.”

Von Bach grabbed the folder, glanced through the papers, and tossed them aside. “I’m aware of the events that transpired.”

Sweat broke out on Konstantin’s brow. “May I ask how?”

The baron ignored the question, blowing air through his nose like a bull about to charge. He opened a battered envelope and slid a telegram across the desk. The paper quivered in Konstantin’s hand as he read.

Archmage Konstantin to return to Vienna relieved of duty indefinitely

Static rushed through his ears. The telegram blurred into gibberish, like a textbook the night before an examination. Though even as a student, he had never felt this hopeless and foolish. “What does this mean?”

“Good God, man, can’t you read?”

Konstantin dropped the telegram, the paper damp with sweat. “There must be a mistake.”

“Your actions in St. Petersburg violated half a dozen diplomatic conventions.” Baron von Bach pounded the desk with his fist. “Not counting your jaunt to the Naval Engineering Institute. Did you proposition Captain Himmel?”

Blood rushed from Konstantin’s face. “Pardon?” He sounded remarkably calm.

“Don’t play innocent. You don’t understand the meaning of discretion.”

“Himmel seems irrelevant, sir.”

Von Bach’s nostrils flared. “You don’t deny the accusations?”

“I’m not aware of the accusations in their entirety.”

“Christ, you can’t lie to save your life.” Von Bach gripped the desk, the hairs on his knuckles bristling. “Did you bugger the captain? Or were you preoccupied seducing military secrets out of Alexsandr Dmitriev?”