Hour of Mischief (4 page)

The air down here was suffocating, and every sound seemed to echo off the cavernous walls. Somewhere in the darkness, water dripped in a constant rhythm, driving me crazy with each hollow
plink.
It was so
dark
too. What time was it? Did time even matter down here at all?

I pushed myself slowly to my hands and knees, my muscles groaning from the toll of our previous fight. Sylvia was the only one already up, sitting at the edge of the cell with her knees up to her chest, rocking back and forth and taking deep, slow breaths. She was shivering like mad, despite the damp, humid air of the prison.

“Sylvie,” I whispered, crawling over to her, moving as quietly as possible so as not to wake the boys. “Hey.”

She didn’t look at me. Just stared into space, still breathing deeply. She breathed in for three seconds and breathed out for six. But each breath seemed to tremble as it left her lips. Yeah, this was a bad one.

I held out my right hand and she seized it in hers though she still didn’t look at me. She gripped my fingers with such ferocity I thought she might break them. I winced but did not take my hand away. In most situations, I would have used my left hand to avoid pain. It was instinct. But for this, I knew Sylvia needed the warmth only flesh could provide.

I breathed with her in silence until her gasps seemed to calm. Then she blinked hard and looked up at me. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” I asked.

“For what happened in there,” Sylvia looked down at her knees. “It was my idea to go in directly above the artifact. I should have considered the possibility of a cage. We could have rigged something up to–”

“No, don’t blame yourself,” I cut her off. “We both made the plan. And it was my job to figure out the alarms.”

“And my job to check you,” Sylvia said. “And now we’re all caught because of me.”

“Sylvie.”

“It would have made more sense to leave me. You had time to escape. At least then, three of you would be safe.”

“Sylvia.”

“With three of you on the outside, maybe we could have orchestrated a plan. Maybe there would be a chance. But now we’re all stuck down here and–”

“Sylvia, stop,” I snapped.

She did, staring at me wide eyed. I sighed. I hated seeing my friend like this, caught between her mind and her emotions. Sylvia was a brilliant strategist. I relied on her for a lot of our greatest plans. But in moments like these all her worst, most suffocating emotions caged her mind and sent it spiraling to the worst places. I squeezed her hand.

“I don’t care what made the most sense strategically,” I said. “We don’t leave people behind. You wouldn’t have left any of us behind and you know it. Don’t blame yourself. In the end, I made the call. I’m the leader. The blame falls on me.”

Sylvia closed her mouth and stared at the ground. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re okay,” I said. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I know you’re just saying that to make me feel better,” Sylvia said. “You don’t want me to worry. But I already am.” She swallowed. “What do you really think?”

I opened my mouth to let loose more mindless reassurances. But in the end I couldn’t. “I don’t know. I keep telling myself that we’ll figure something out. I just don’t know how. There will be a trial. But you know how trials for thieves go. We’ll be tried and found guilty. We’ll be lucky to get less than forty years. So the only hope is escape.”

“But no one has ever been able to successfully escape this place,” Sylvia said.

“Good thing we’re not like most people,” I said.

“No. We’re not,” Sylvia replied, but her voice broke.

“Listen Sylvie,” I said. “I’m going to take care of us. No matter what. I always have and I always will. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Sylvia murmured.

“I’m not. I
will
keep this one,” I said, looking her dead in the eye. And I meant it. I didn’t know how I could keep such an impossible promise but in that moment, I meant it.

Sylvia opened her mouth as if to say something more but footsteps sounded, coming down the hallway. The heavy clanks of a vigilant guard, and a lighter set that moved almost daintily across the stone. I released Sylvia’s hand and stood as two figures came into view, stopping in front of our prison.

The first was the vigilant from earlier, the one with the mechanical arm I had to thank for the bruise on my right shoulder. The second I didn’t recognized. He was garbed all in black and white, in a simple suit with coat tails hanging to his knees. Not a flash of color on him. But there were telltale signs he was from the center ring. The way he kept his hair slicked back and plastered to his skull, the porcelain white buttons on his jacket, and the gold chain of a pocket watch clipped to his belt all pointed to his wealth.

“You.” The vigilant guard pointed at me. “You’re the leader.”

“That’s me.” I eyed them both warily.

The guard unlocked the cell. “You’re coming with us.”

Sid and Parker had stirred from sleep when the vigilant started talking and now they both stood.

“Where are you taking her?” Parker demanded.

“It’s not your concern.” The guard moved into the cell, as if he intended to drag me out. Sid stood in his way.

“She’s our leader. Why wouldn’t it be of our concern?” he asked flatly. The look in his eyes was so deadly even the guard must have second guessed his size and strength.

“We only want to question her,” the smaller man said, pushing up his spectacles. “As she is to represent you in trial. If she cooperates, this won’t take long.”

Oh good, because I’m such a natural at cooperation.

Sid looked as if he might fight the guard, and Sylvia and Parker looked ready to join in. I had no intention of letting my team get killed over something so trivial, so I rested a hand on Sid’s shoulder. “Its fine, I’ll go with them,” I said. “I can handle this.”

Slowly, Sid stood to the side and I stepped forward. The guard reached for me and I held up a hand. “But
only,”
I said. “If you don’t hold my shoulder with that damn hand again. The bruise is bad enough already.”

The vigilant didn’t look happy about that, but he let his hand drop and gestured toward the cell door. “Move.”

They took me to a small, dark room, closed in by thick stone walls instead of bars. But at least I didn’t have to listen to that incessant, dripping sound.

A single electric light, the first I’d seen since I entered this prison, hung from the ceiling. Below the light sat a table and chair. The smaller man gestured for me to sit. I considered saying no, but that might get our interrogation off to a bad start.

A rather elaborate map of Memoria was nailed to the wall next to the door. Though the room was dimly lit, the bulb above my head gave off enough light for me to see the sacred clock and the eight realms within. Being uneducated, I’d only read a few books in my life with Sid’s help. But the first one he ever gave to me contained maps of Memoria. Of each of the four human realms, even the empty realm, and of the great clock that contained them all.

Fortuna was one of the smaller realms, containing only three of the hours: eleven, twelve and one o’clock. Tiyata and Kabila were much larger, about equal in size and each containing four hours. Tiyata housed two through five and Kabila, seven through ten. Cambiare, the empty realm, was the only realm smaller than Fortuna. It contained only one hour: six o’clock. The sign of each of the twelve clockwork gods was engraved beside their respective hour. It was said the placement of the clockwork gods reflected each realm’s highest values. How fitting Fortuna should contain the hours belonging to the Goddess of Festivities, the God of Love and the God of Abundance, the one whose artifact we had been charged with stealing.

But the most important hour of this prison was clear. The black flame of Axira, Goddess of Death, was painted boldly across the pendulum hanging below the sixth hour, larger than any other sign. This place was fond of constant reminders of the Goddess and her domain, as if to warn us we would all one day be suffering there.

“Nice map,” I said flatly, taking a seat. “Guess it’s no secret who this place favors.”

The vigilant sneered. “Death is the only thing prisoners have to look forward to here.”

“Charming.” I twisted my necklace around my finger, nearly crushing it in my grip. If the Clockwork God really did exist, he had just screwed me over. “I’m going to attempt optimism and say I have plenty more to look forward to before death.”

“Only if your trial goes well.” The smaller man stepped forward. “Which if I have my way, it won’t.”

“Ah, so that’s the reason for the black and white get up.” I gestured to him. “I wondered why you weren’t more flamboyant. You’re from the courts.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re trying to get my team sentenced here.”

“Yes.”

“So, why am I talking to you?”

“Because I want to know the extent of your crimes.”

“So that you can use them as evidence against me.”

“Yes.”

“Then . . . why would I tell you any of my crimes?” I sat back in the chair, crossing my arms. “That just seems incredibly stupid.”

The man’s shoulders hitched and his glasses slipped a bit down his nose. “We value honesty in the courts. It is my right to have the truth.”

“Yes, but I’m a thief.” I glanced down at my necklace, pretending to be disinterested. “I think we have slightly conflicting values.”

“If you don’t cooperate.” The vigilant stepped forward. “We can lock you in here in the complete dark for three days. No meals.” His gaze locked on my necklace. “And why do you still have that? All possessions should have been taken you before you entered the prison.”

“It’s a religious token,” I said, unwinding the necklace from my finger. “They let you keep those. I know it’s not the awe-inspiring black flame of death, but it’s still religious.”

“Which one is that?” The lawman squinted at the necklace, leaning close enough I could have punched him in the face. But that move was best used as a last resort. Solitary confinement didn’t seem like my cup of tea.

“Is that Cheveyo’s tree?”

“No.” I sighed. “It’s the Clockmaker’s Key.” I held up the tiny charm to the light. “Really, why would I have the symbol of the God of the Natural World when the only forests in Fortuna are outside the city?”

“Well, why would a thief have a Clockmaker’s Key?” the vigilant asked. “Why not Itazura’s hand? That’s your patron god.”

“Or one of those other lowly gods,” the lawman said. “Like Artifex. You slum dwellers favor him, don’t you?”

My, his face was looking infinitely more punchable with every word he spoke.

“I don’t keep symbols of any clockwork gods. I don’t worship them much,” I said flatly. “I’m not the reverent type. Maybe you noticed when you caught me stealing from the God of Snobbery’s temple.”

“Amontillado is not to be trifled with,” the law man said stiffly.

“He was pretty easily trifled with when I stole from his temples all those other times,” I muttered.

“So you have stolen from him multiple times. I’ll make note of that.” The lawman looked pleased. I scowled.

The vigilant, on the other hand, still seemed stuck on my necklace. “If you’re not reverent, then why keep a religious token at all?”

“Because the Clockmaker hasn’t pissed me off yet.” I shrugged. “He’s mysterious enough to command some reverence. Besides, if the religious wackos are right, the Clockmaker created all of the gods. Saves time just worshiping him, you know?”

“Mysterious and missing,” the vigilant said. “The Clockmaker has never been seen in the human realms. He’s likely just some story. He plays no part here. You’d have been better off wearing the Hand of your God of Mischief around your neck. Then you might not have botched this job.”

“Or the Heart of Meroquio.” The lawman leered. “You’re a Redstone after all. Doesn’t that mean–”

He never finished that sentence because I decided to play my punching card. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground.

“She hit me . . . she actually hit me. . . .” the lawman whimpered, cupping his jaw. It looked like I’d knocked a few teeth loose.

“That’s it,” The vigilant said. “We gave you the chance to cooperate–”

“I can’t feel my mouth.”

“–but we’ll see what a few days of solitary confinement does to your resistance.”

“I think she broke my jaw.”

The vigilant hauled the lawman to his feet, leading him, still muttering under his breath, out of the room. He glared at me before he slammed the door. The lock clicked from the other side and moments later the lights switched off.

“Damn it,” I muttered. “Damn it, damn it, damn it.” I stood to my feet, but since I couldn’t see, my foot caught on the chair and sent me sprawling. The chair landed on top of my legs and I groaned. “Shouldn’t have punched him. I am stupid.”

“I don’t know. I thought it was entertaining.”

I started at the sound of a new voice–inside of the room.

“Who’s there?” I asked, vaulting to my feet.

A chuckle rolled from the darkness. “Me, of course,” the figure said in a distinctly male voice.

“Okay, vague, mysterious, voice in the darkness.” My eyes narrowed. “Do you expect me to know who you are?”