Clockwork Chaos (3 page)

Cobham assessed their situation as he reached for the revolver. There were just too many. While he suspected that Sparrowknife would be a good man to have in a scuffle, he wanted Kassandra involved in none of this. He handed over his bone-handled knife as well. Sparrowknife proffered up a small pistol and several knives. The armed Antelaunders marched behind the party now as Sante Moore led the group in the direction of the odd thumping noise.

After passing through the buildings, they turned a corner to discover the originator of the sound. Inside a hollow carved out from the surrounding snow lay a large iron machine. The dull brown color of it was tinged with spangles of orange rust. Chuffing steam, one giant lever arm thrust out over and over sideways. The resultant clang of its extension echoed throughout the encampment. This must be some sort of pump, Cobham thought. Beyond the device, the ground sloped downward into the tar pit that Moore had mentioned.

“So is that where we’re going to end up? Sunk in the tar?” Sparrowknife snarled, taking a step toward Moore. The bell of a blunderbuss swung around to thump against the airman’s chest. He never took his eyes from Moore’s. Cobham’s appreciation of the young man went up a notch.

But Sparrowknife wasn’t done, “Miss Kassandra, don’t be fooled by him. There’s plenty of dirty work afoot here. If he hasn’t done it himself, then he’s seen fit to approve of it. Those leviathans didn’t die by themselves.”

“Oh, I am certain that I question our host’s qualities but whatever do you mean by that, Airman?”

While answering her, Sparrowknife still glared at Moore. “I may not have ever seen a beaching before, but it would be a true oddity if all of the poor creatures were to drag themselves into a nice regular row where their heads were in a line despite how large they were. Besides that, why would they all end up on their backs? I suspect that it’s because if we saw their tops we’d find a hole very similar to that on the wrecked dirigible. Isn’t that right, Sir Moore?”

Cobham watched Sante Moore unclasp the pipe from his lips to tap out its contents into the snow. The big man put it away, each one of his moments stiff with restraint as the scientist struggled to hold his tongue. “Well, young man, before we had an instance where I could have told you that the
Sharpshin
disappeared mysteriously. Now that’s no longer the case.”

“So what’s he doing digging in all of the leviathans?” Cobham asked.

Moore was silent, his face now twisted into a scowl.

“Ambergris,” Kassandra answered, “Leviathans are known to produce ambergris in a regular fashion whereas in their whale relatives it is somewhat rare. Ambergris is worth quite a bit of money—money that could be used to continue to fund such a project.” She watched their captor intently, “But that’s not it, is it, Sante? You’ve found another use for the ambergris haven’t you?”

“It is a very unique substance, given its volatility.” Moore said with a smile. “In fact, mixing it with certain elements taken from ancient Greek alchemical texts makes it an excellent catalyst.”

“Let me have a guess, one that could be used as weapon?” interjected Kassandra.

Moore continued without acknowledging her outburst. “The catalyst mixed with the refined oil from the tar pit makes quite an explosive. Apply sufficient force to start a reaction and the mixture becomes quite destructive. That my dear is the weapon.”

Another sound intruded on Cobham’s hearing, just below the omnipresent pump. This was a drone of sorts. Sparrowknife noticed it as well. The airman’s eyes flickered away from Moore to look upward. Out of the clouds came an immense dirigible, its prow low over the encampment. The long, grey cylinder of its bulk stretched into the distance.

“The
Windram
is quite an aeronaught isn’t she?” Moore asked, his voice filled with pride.

“There’s no such thing as an aeronaught,” Sparrowknife spat.

Looking at the massive machine drifting by overhead, Cobham felt that he might just have to disagree. It was armored along the sides and bottom. Two sets of spars jutted outward at a swept-back angle bearing immense rotary fan blades that spun in a blur. Round barnacle-like protrusions harbored the barrels of cannons. The massive tail fins cut through the low-hanging clouds. He couldn’t blame Bornesun for lighting out with the
Sharpshin.
The airship couldn’t stand a chance against this behemoth.

Kassandra, as always, went straight to the point, “Why, Sante? Why do all of this?”

Moore responded after a moment’s thought. “The King’s empire in the New World is dying. Dying because he refuses to let us grow and learn.”

“That is treason,” Sparrowknife said in a clipped tone.

“Spoken just like a King’s man. But in consideration of your loyalty, do you know the history that your monarch’s dynasty is based upon?

“When Edward the Third and the Black Prince led the court out of the Old World establishing New Britain in the New World it was a time of great opportunity. We left behind the old ideas with the plague-ridden continent. We conquered a whole new land. We opened our arms to the survivors that made it to our shores because we’d realized it didn’t matter where one grew up. We were human and alive, that was enough. Our nation grew from the strengths of its many cultures. We experienced a renaissance, much like the old Greeks. Our scientists, artists, and philosophers all came together to create something greater than the sum of the whole.”

“That’s true,” interjected Kassandra, “It was an age of adventure and growth.”

Moore’s countenance darkened as he swung towards her. “Then we conquered the entirety of the southern continent using what we’d discovered of the Black Plague as a weapon. We pushed all of the native peoples out of our new land into the Southern Islands off of our coast. We gave them indentured servitude that might as well have been slavery.”

Shaking his head, Moore pointed a finger at their party. “But we’d reached too far. Our grasp couldn’t contain all of the lands we’d conquered. Now we had to try to hold onto what we’d conquered. We couldn’t even do that. We gave the southern continent to the Mexateca and the Southern Islands back to their inhabitants. We also left them all of our machinery and knowledge as well. Is it any wonder they harbor resentment of us? Our proud Monarchy bred generation after generation of Edwards until our present incarnation who can barely see beyond what his fingers can grasp on a map. New Britain is waning. Our once great country has no future.”

Moore’s sudden silence after such a long diabtribe caught Cobham by surprise, but he could see the tension still working in the man as he strode back and forth. This time when Moore turned back to the group of captives, his attention was focused on Cobham and Sparrowknife and as he spoke each word grew louder in volume until he was shouting.

“Because I am a man of science I cannot be restrained by hidebound ideals and a lack of vision. Your tottering empire, ruled by aged, senile fools trapped in the dark bunkers of their fear is trembling on its very last legs. The future will leave His Majesty behind. I don’t intend to be left with him.”

Shaking with anger, Moore addressed the Antelaunders, “Take them to the outbuilding by the pump and secure them there. We’ll decide what needs to be done after the
Windram
comes to tether.”

“My father used to speak of you as a true visionary, Sante. I wonder if he couldn’t see past that to the madness,” Kassandra stated as one of their guards grasped her shoulder to spin her about.

Moore turned his back on their party starting to walk off. “You father used to be part of my coterie. He used to be a believer, one of many. Disabuse yourself of the notion that I am doing this on my own, dear Kassandra. But your father, he never had the stamina to keep up with us. He was weak,” their captor threw over his shoulder and then marched off.

The dilapidated shed was a poor windbreak and Cobham could feel the incessant gusts and hear them whistling through the cracks in the building. The three prisoners huddled about the small coal brazier in the shack’s center.

“This morning I walked though the wreckage of an aircraft. Now I’m in the clutches of a mad man. I really can’t tell you how much I enjoy being along for the adventure, Kassandra. In the future can we possibly consider something a little bit less life-threatening?” Cobham said shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his parka, leaning closer to the brazier.

“But isn’t it exciting?” she responded with a sly smile.

Before he could frame a suitable response, Cobham found the items that he’d discovered inside the leviathan. He pulled the metal from his pocket, holding it up before the feeble light from the fire.

“Can I see that, constable?” Sparrowknife asked. The airman turned the fragment over in his hands. “Well, there is the cladding we were looking for earlier. Where did you find it?”

“Moore’s using it to line some of the rooms inside the leviathans.”

“That is odd, but it does prove that Moore went back and removed the cladding and everything else from the iceberg,” Sparrowknife mused. He took the metal and tossed it into the brazier. Immediately, the small fire blazed up in a puff of flame. “Must be the paint. Southern Islanders and Mexateca sometimes use inferior paints on the exterior of their dirigibles.”

“What I don’t understand is the whole reason for their involvement with the wreckage,” Kassandra said.

“I think we can call it an experiment,” Cobham offered. “If I was to guess I would say that Sante made the discovery of the ambergris bomb some time ago. Once he was able to perfect it, he and his allies used it to kill all of the leviathans we’ve seen on the beach to acquire more ambergris. From there they needed to prove that it could be used as a weapon against aircraft.”

“So the wreckage was from a test,” Sparrowknife interjected.

“Yes, they tethered the dirigible to the iceberg. Then they dropped the bomb on it. That might be why there was nothing but the framework, they wouldn’t have wasted anything else. I suppose that since he is familiar with this area that Sante knew the iceberg would drift back toward Aurora. The
Windram
could be here to salvage the framework,” Cobham continued.

“So now they have something with which to destroy dirigibles and airships, how perfectly awful,” Kassandra said shaking her head.

Reaching for the other item, Cobham found that the ice covering the piece had melted soaking his handkerchief. Cobham thrust his hand closer to the fire and stared at what lay in his palm.

Kassandra’s brow wrinkled as she poked at his hand. “Constable, wherever did you find a severed finger inside the leviathan?”

Cobham was silent a moment considering the stacks that the finger had come from. “There were bodies inside the leviathan so frozen together I couldn’t tell what they were. I broke off a piece before Sante and his men found me. I wonder how many there are in there.”

“Well that explains something,” Sparrowknife offered. “I know how he convinced the Antelaunders to work for him. Some of them developed a taste for human flesh. Moore must be paying the cannibals that way.”

“So he’s got a larder full of corpses stored inside a dead leviathan. This just gets better with every passing moment. Who are they, I wonder?” Cobham asked.

“From the looks of things, I would say anyone who doesn’t agree with that madman,” Kassandra offered. She reached out to Cobham for the finger. He happily surrendered it to her. “Your question constable has another meaning. Who are the people supporting Moore? I think I may have a way to find out.”

Kassandra pulled back her hood. Shrugging out of her gloves, she reached up to free the long ringlets of her red hair. Her tresses were bound up on her head in a bun transfixed by two amber-colored rods. She pulled the rods out, sparing a moment to twist her hair out of the way. Setting the rods aside near the severed digit, she reached for one of her gloves. Working the liner out, she was able to get at the woolen interior. Regaining the rods, she lay them in the liner. Then she began rub the shafts back and forth. After a few moments, Cobham could see the fibers of the wool starting to stand up as well as the loose hairs on top of Kassandra’s head.

“Constable, make me some room on the floor please. I’ll need a smooth area in the dirt close enough to the brazier that we’ll be able to see.” Cobham took off his gloves and set about scraping the detritus on the floor away from the desired area. She nodded at him when he was done, then said, “Please place the finger at the bottom closest to me.” As soon as he’d dropped the severed finger on the ground, she leaned forward touching it on either end with one of the rods. A fat blue spark jumped from each rod and the finger shimmered with a slick coating of something that looked like mercury. Cobham had seen Kassandra call spirits before and knew that what he was seeing was ectoplasm, but what she intended next, he had no idea.

She held out the rods to the two men. “Airman, please write in the dirt on the left here the numbers from one to ten then the words ‘yes’ and ‘no’. Constable, I need you to write out the letters of the alphabet here on your side.” Then she leaned forward to pick up the finger. Holding it in her hands, she squeezed her eyes closed, took a breath and held it. When she breathed out, silvery ectoplasm coated her lips. It wafted out in gossamer strands in the air as if she were spewing out spider’s silk. Drifting downward, the mercurial matter collected on the finger.

Both men sat back, having finished writing. Cobham found himself staring as Kassandra lay the silvery digit on the floor. He spared a glance at Sparrowknife. The airman seemed to be taking the oddity of the situation fairly well. Sparrowknife caught the look and commented, “Not to worry, constable, my auntie was well known for making simples and small tellings.”

“Well, you’re handling it better than I did the first time. Kassandra made everything in the room float including me and brought everything back to earth with a crash,” Cobham said.

“It was someone else’s equipment with inferior quality at that. As you see, gentlemen, quite a good deal can be accomplished with a small amount. But to business, let us see if we can establish a rapport.”