On the Isle of Sound and Wonder (18 page)

“It was your birthday,” Dante groaned, “a week ago! You’ve already got the whole kingdom over me, Alanno, give it a rest!” But he smiled as they walked up the lawn to the house. It was good to see Alanno in high spirits again. He’d been rather down the last few years, ever since the queen, Isabella, had hurt her legs. Alanno doted on her, but he feared that unless she was able to regain much of her strength and constitution back, their chances of producing an heir would be less likely.

“Doesn’t look much like the richest place in town, does it?” said the king, pursing his lips. “Have you ever seen him in person?”

“No.” Dante glanced over the property. “It’s cozy enough. I hope he’s not some kind of hermit.”

“Hermit? He’s a genius. You’ll see.”

If one had a task for the inventors of the kingdom of Italya, a task that one did not want shared or broadcast among the masses, one inevitably sent word to the village of Orologio. There, one could employ the nation’s finest clockmaker, architect, intellect, engineer, and scientific mind that could possibly be found, and all of these were but one man. His name was Alfareo Garriley, and he was the chiefest among thinkers and polymaths of the day.

It was widely understood that Garriley had been born in Pirano, but that, as he got on in years, he had abandoned his city life for the gentle countryside, and only rarely left his beloved Orologio. He had not quite achieved hermit status, but he was comfortably on his way to such a title as the number of social appearances he made lessened year after year.

Alanno had written a letter—in his own royal hand—to Garriley, asking for his keen mind to come up with something that could help Queen Isabella to regain her physical strength and mobility, insisting that money was no object in helping his wife grow strong and healthy again. The longer they went without an heir, the easier it would be for rival nations to try and take the crown. Garriley had not written back immediately, but had considered it at length, and at last sent the king a polite but brief missive inviting him to the villa in Orologio for a meeting.

Alanno, always eager for an adventure, had roped Dante into coming along. Dante, beholden to his king and his best friend, had reluctantly agreed, although he would have rather stayed behind to continue courting his own lady love, Sophia. They had made a great outing of it, the queen and their attendants lingering at some lord’s villa several hours’ ride away while the king and the duke trotted out to Orologio, in the middle of nowhere.

“We don’t even know if he’s agreed to do it,” muttered Dante with a shake of his head, as they stepped up the short stair to the villa’s door. It really wasn’t even a villa—it was much more of a small mansion.

“If he planned on refusing us, why would he have asked us to come all the way out here?” Alanno sounded confident, jauntily ringing the bell.

“I don’t know.” Dante suddenly felt uncomfortable about the whole thing. “We should have brought the guard. We shouldn’t have come all this way on our own, Al.”

Alanno put his hands in his pockets casually. “Relax. You are such a worrier, Dante. Everything’s fine, I’m sure. Besides, he’s the foremost in nearly every field you’ve ever studied as far as invention goes. Don’t you want to meet him face to face?” His blue eyes gleamed.

“Well, yes,” blustered Dante, “but there are so many rumors that he’s a crackpot.”

“I certainly hope so,” agreed the king, as the door latch unbolted and the knob turned.

“Your Highness,” said the man at the door, “My lord. Please come in.”

The king’s smile faded, and Dante’s eyes widened. The man at the door wore the plain suit of a country servant, neat and tidy, in rustic browns and grays, but his skin gleamed a most magnificent rosy brass color, like polished metal. At first glimpse, his hair was black, and so neatly combed that it did not appear to move in the slightest. After a moment, Dante realized the coif was molded to the man’s head. He did not appear to breathe or blink or shift in the way that normal people do, but stood perfectly still, holding the door open with one gloved hand and the other out to welcome them into the foyer.

“Sweet Jove,” breathed Dante, before he could stop himself.

“Please come in, Your Highness. Maestro Garriley is very pleased you’re here.” His voice had a faint echo to it, and his lips and jaw did not move, but the words came from somewhere within him.

Dante’s mind raced. He stared at the man before him, analyzing the materials, theories, raw observations, trying to make sense of what his instinct was telling him.

“Come now, let’s not keep the maestro waiting,” beamed Alanno. Dante shot him a look as they stepped over the threshold, and the gleaming servant bowed slightly at the waist.

“You little imp!” Dante exclaimed, thunderstruck. “You knew! You knew exactly who—what—who was going to answer the door, and you brought me all this way for this.”

Alanno chuckled, removing his hat and looking like the cat that got the cream. “Don’t know what you mean, old boy.”

Well, this wasn’t how I thought today would go,
Dante fumed as the servant moved past them at a smooth but slow pace.
Automatons aren’t just possible, now they’re apparently already in production! That’s the last time I place a bet against Alanno.

They followed the man-machine down the carpeted corridor into a sitting room, which was simply decorated, but for the shelves and shelves of books on all four walls. Alanno flopped into a cushioned chair with a grin, but Dante’s eyes were fixed on the servant.

“I will fetch him at once,” the servant intoned in a clear voice. It bowed slightly again and went out of the room.

“Dante, what on earth’s the matter with you?” Alanno beamed innocently at him.

“You know perfectly well what. That,” growled Dante, pointing to the now-closed door, “is an automaton.”

“No!” cried Alanno, as though insulted. “You’re overreacting, Dante, surely! Simply because he doesn’t blink doesn’t make him any less of a man!” But his eyes danced merrily as he tossed his hat back and forth from hand to hand. “I knew you’d be surprised.”

“Surprised enough. I’m not paying you for that bet, by the by. Alanno, what precisely did we come here for?”

“I already told you! My commission, silly.”

“You said it hadn’t been approved yet by the Mae—by Garriley.”

“Well,” said Alanno, hedging. “That particular commission isn’t the one we’re here to pick up. There’s another one.”

“Another? But what about Isabella?” Dante frowned.

The door opened and the metal man stepped back inside with a curt half-bow. “Maestro Garriley, your guests: King Alanno Civitelli, first of the Italyans to bear his name, and the honorable Duke Dante Fiorente of Neapolis.”

The maestro himself, Alfareo Garriley, stepped into the room, smiling a peculiar, knowing little smile. He was a small, slight man, but had roundish features that indicated a well-stocked cupboard and many long, lush meals over his lifetime. His hair and beard were white, but where his beard was neatly trimmed and well-kept, his wild hair was like a baboon’s crested mane. He wore simple country clothes: a shirt, waistcoat, and trousers in ordinary cotton and wool, and a longer, lightweight jacket like a driving duster that appeared to be faintly stained with old marks of oil, soot, and possibly blood. His eyes gleamed the same coppery hazel as the servant’s skin.

“Welcome to my home, Your Highness,” said the inventor, bowing at the waist. “And my lord duke.”

“Ah, Garriley!” Alanno beamed, lounging in the armchair while Dante stood surprised at his elbow. “Thank you for having us. It’s good of you to allow us to meet in private this way.”

“Certainly, Your Majesty. It is my pleasure entirely.” Garriley looked at Dante, his hands lightly clasped at his back. “Duke Fiorente has a lot of questions for me, I think.”

“Bosh,” said Alanno, waving his hand dismissively. Dante pressed his mouth into a thin line. “That can wait. First, is it done?”

The inventor inclined his head to the king. “Yes, Your Highness. It’s done. The first round of Royal Guard are complete and ready to ship.”

Alanno smiled widely. “Oh, most excellent. That is very good to hear.”

Dante felt his insides coil tightly with uncertainty.
The cat has got the cream after all,
he realized, looking from Garriley to the king. “There is already a Royal Guard,” he said. “What do you mean, they’re ready to ship?”

Alanno stood up and straightened his own jacket, giving Dante a lofty, almost scathing look. “Yes, but our current guard are soft, permeable, and basic. They can be bettered, built upon. They can be improved.” His eyes gleamed, but the mischief and mirth was now gone, replaced with determination and pride.

“Alanno,” Dante ventured. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before? Why bring me here under different pretenses? Is there even a machine to help the queen?”

“There is,” interrupted the inventor. The king looked surprised.

“Is there?” Alanno seemed agitated.

“Of course, Your Majesty. I’ve built her a pair of leg braces that will renew her muscle strength and make her legs stronger. In addition to your ten Royal Guardsmen.”

“You’ll be paid extra, as agreed, if my wife recovers her movement.” Alanno’s mouth quivered a little, though his voice held steady.

“I wasn’t aware,” Dante interrupted lightly, “that our country’s technological capabilities were so . . . advanced as to include the completion of fully functional, speaking, and obedient automatons.”

Garriley inclined his head a little with a slight smile. “Your technology isn’t, my lord. But mine is.”

“I told you, he’s a genius,” breathed the king, pleased and reveling in his satisfaction.

“You are indeed widely regarded as truly excellent in your fields,” Dante admitted. “But you must allow a measure of skeptical concern at the significant promise you have made to His Highness.”

“Your lordship is truly a scholar. Would you care to view the guardsmen in my workshop before we adjourn for lunch?”

“An excellent idea,” agreed the king, nodding.

Dante held the inventor’s gaze firmly, but Garriley did not shift, he merely smiled. “Very well,” Dante agreed. “Let’s see them.”

The metal man by the door led the way out of the sitting room and down the corridor. At the end of the hall, they turned, and turned again, then came to a door which was barred with iron and marked with strange carvings in the stone arch and wood. Dante thought he recognized some of the shapes and patterns.

Prayers,
he thought.
No—spells?

His own research had taken him through the basics of alleged magical practices some time ago. He had read about the druids and the more primitive historical groups who used magic to heal ailments and shape reality, but it was all academically considered incomplete data, unlikely to have been fact. It was more likely that the ‘magic’ had simply been drug-induced perception, but of course that didn’t keep him from wondering if the real thing was out there, waiting to be discovered.

They passed through the doorway and descended a well-kept stone staircase into the lower layers of the mansion, emerging into a large, cavernous room with rounded ceilings and impressive industrial lights—the new electrical kind, Dante noted. The inventor led them past tables and workbenches, easels and blackboards, past a carriage prototype and several small scale models of cities and airships spread over one particular table. At last, they came to an open area of the work room, and Garriley stopped, the metal servant coming up alongside him.

“Well?” asked Dante. “Where are they?”

Garriley inclined his head and produced from his pocket a small handheld device with a series of small buttons, one of which he pressed with his thumb. A small door set into the wall opened, and the Royal Guard marched neatly into the room to stand in formation before them. They were unarmed, but their garments were uniform, their movements precise, and they cut an impressive picture, tall and imposing.

“They’re perfect
,
” breathed Alanno.

They’re terrifying,
thought Dante, but he immediately understood the reasoning behind their creation.
These are the real guard. The guardsmen made of flesh and bone can be stopped, or silenced. These men are more . . . formidable.

“I’m glad Your Highness is so pleased by them.” Garriley smiled. “They’re perfectly obedient. They don’t speak, but we can add voiceboxes if you’d like.”

“They’re impenetrable by bullets, aren’t they,” guessed Dante.

“Of course.”

“And waterproof?”

“Yes. They’re perfectly capable of standing watch out in the rain. They’re self-winding, too; their inner workings will run for a very long time before they wear down.”

Dante looked at him. “How long?”

“Oh, years.” The inventor waved a hand. “This one’s lasted a decade so far, and his wiring is a little more primitive than theirs.” He gestured, and another mechanical man came shuffling out of the corner, its features rounder and distinctly simpler than the smooth cheekbones and hard jaws of the Royal Guard. It was shorter, too, the same height as Garriley himself, and thus a comical companion to the tall and stately guards. Its eyes gleamed greenish-gold, bright and pupilless, its vague expression almost sheepish.

“A decade!” crowed the king, clapping his hands and bouncing toward the tall guards to study them up close. “Ah, Garriley, you’re a wizard!”

Alanno wasn’t looking, but Dante saw the peculiar expression flash over Garriley’s face, before vanishing. “Thank you, Your Highness,” the inventor said, tight-lipped. “But you know I truck only with science and mathematics. Hard facts. The impossible is achievable when the mind works hard enough,” he added, moving closer to the line of guards and the joyful king. “Let me show you the schematics for your new warship, Your Highness.”

“Ooh!” exclaimed the king, and they moved off toward an easel with some drawings on display.

Dante stayed behind, lingering and staring at the lineup of tall, perfect, gleaming brass guards.
Creepy.
Dante didn’t like their cold stares, their eyes lifted just over his own head. Then he let his eyes drop to the short, almost stubby, mechanical man just off to one side, whose green-gold gaze held steady as any lantern. The littler mech was benign, almost apologetic in its physicality, as though it was concerned it was taking up too much space. Dante moved closer, warily.