Angel of Brass (6 page)

Molly looked out the window; the students
wandering about were all heavily dressed against the cold. “It’s
freezing out there—well, not literally, but it won’t be comfortable
to sleep in.”

“I don’t really feel the cold.” Jin stood up
shakily. “Malachi did something to us.”

Molly and Liam exchanged a startled look.
This Malachi is a genius, and not just with gears and wire. Too
bad he’s an amoral maniac
.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll walk Jin down,
then. Liam?”

Liam suppressed a yawn. “I’m going to grab
some sleep here, before the first class comes in.”

“Lucky,” Molly muttered. She had to be in
class by eight, and saints help her if she nodded off during the
lecture.

She led Jin down the stairs to a small
courtyard behind the building, which was a favorite studying place
for students in better weather. They stopped on the way so that he
could throw up again behind some bushes, but at least he didn’t
look quite so green afterward. Two wooden benches faced each other
across a brick walkway, and she pointed at one. “There. People
sleep here all the time, so no one should bother you.”

He stretched out on it, eyes closed already.
“Thank you.”

She stood for a moment, staring down at him.
He looked oddly vulnerable, his cheek pillowed on one gloved hand
and his long legs curled up to fit on the bench. Although it was
cold enough to make their breath steam, he didn’t seem
uncomfortable. Even so, it felt wrong to just leave him dressed in
nothing warmer than a shirt and waistcoat, so she removed her heavy
coat and spread it over him.

“Just don’t run off again,” she told him, not
certain if he heard her or not. “I’m going to want the coat back,
you know.”

He murmured something and hitched it higher
on his shoulders. Shaking her head, she turned away and headed in
search of enough coffee to keep her awake through Applied
Thermodynamics.

* * *

Jin’s dreams were restless and grew more so
as they shaded into memory. He dreamed of sitting in his bed, small
enough still that it seemed enormous in comparison. His arms lay on
the blanket in front of him, and he couldn’t stop staring at them,
couldn’t stop crying. Malachi had taken him down to the basement
the day before, to make yet another in an endless series of
adjustments.

And it hurt; oh saints, it
hurt
, so
bad that he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t
do anything but sit there and breathe, his heart fluttering in his
chest like a trapped bird. Del had tried to curl up in bed beside
him for comfort, but he’d screamed when she inadvertently touched
his newest set of arms, so now she lay on the couch across the
room, watching him.

The door opened, and Malachi came in,
carrying a tray. “How are you, my boy?” he asked gently, sitting on
the edge of the bed.

Jin felt tears welling up again. “It hurts,”
he managed to say.

“I know, I know. You’ve been so brave.”
Malachi smiled. “I’m so very proud of you. Would you like some ice
cream?”

Jin nodded, and Malachi took the cover off
the tray, revealing a bowl of chocolate ice cream spiced with
cinnamon. Malachi scooped some up with a spoon and tenderly fed it
to Jin. “There you are, my brave boy. It’s good, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Father. Thank you.”

“Of course. Anything for you, son. Anything
for you.”

* * *

Jin opened his eyes and found himself lying
on a bench, under the open sky. Students were passing by, laughing
and chattering, but as Molly had promised, none of them paid him
the slightest notice. They were a motley lot, with every skin tone
under the sun, their bodies decorated with metal or feathers. A
tall, pretty girl dressed in skirts, corset, and a great deal of
lace, kissed a boy wearing smoked glasses and clothing so rough he
could have been a dockworker. Another boy, who must have lost the
use of his legs, clomped past in an iron walking machine.

Jin sat up slowly, drawing Molly’s coat about
him. It smelled of lavender and sage, overlain with the tang of
worn-in grease and oil. The chains dangling from the shoulders and
elbows clanked softly, contrasting oddly with the small scrap of
lace decorating the sleeve. Leaving it with him had been an
unexpected kindness, and he wondered if that was why he’d
dreamed.

Molly had shown him the first kindness he’d
ever experienced that wasn’t somehow tainted.
And how do I repay
her? I spin a web of lies, and pretend to be some hapless human boy
that Malachi adopted. If she knew that I’m not real, that I’m just
something Malachi built out of spare parts, would she be so eager
to help me?

As if in answer to his thoughts, he spotted
Molly making her way through the crowd. Her spectacles flashed in
the sunlight, the reflection briefly hiding her blue eyes. Her hair
was disheveled, and she still wore the same clothes from the night
before: grease-stained trousers with reinforced knees, heavy tool
belt, plain brown shirt, and a quilted waistcoat that he guessed
was fireproof. She’d put on a pair of fingerless gloves, but still
shivered in the cold, her arms wrapped around herself for
warmth.

She carried a small basket slung over one
arm, and as she drew closer, the smell of bread and cheese cramped
his stomach with hunger. “You’re still here,” she remarked, as she
sat down by him.

“I couldn’t just steal your coat, could I?”
He shucked it off his shoulders and offered it to her. “Thank you.
And not just for the coat.”

Her mouth flexed into a smile. “You’re
welcome. Are you feeling better? I brought lunch. Or dinner, I
suppose, at this hour.”

“I am better, thank you.” He touched the back
of her hand lightly as she opened the basket. “You didn’t have to
help me, and you certainly didn’t have to stay up all night putting
me back together. It...it means something to me that you did.”

She didn’t flinch at his touch, even though
she knew what was under the gloves. Last night, she hadn’t looked
at him with revulsion, only curiosity. It almost made him feel as
though he had nothing of which to be ashamed.

They made sandwiches of bread and cheese, and
drank coffee from a thermos. When they were done, Jin felt almost
human, although he didn’t think he’d ever touch another drop of
whiskey as long as he lived.

“So,” Molly said, peering at him through her
thick spectacles as she sipped her coffee, “I’ve been thinking
about what you told us last night. To be honest, a part of me is
scared to get involved in this mess.”

“You’ve done enough already,” he said
quickly. “I’ll get out of the city and go someplace else. With any
luck the smiling men will follow me, and you won’t need to worry.
I’ll be all right.”

She sighed and hunched her shoulders under
the coat. “I’ve got a life, you know. Classes. My father is paying
my tuition, against my mother’s wishes, and if I fail...it won’t be
good.”

Although a small part of him was
disappointed, he couldn’t fault her reasoning. “I understand. I’ll
just be on my way, then.”

“Let me finish, first.” She scuffed her
steel-toed boots against the sidewalk. “I’ve been thinking about it
all day. I can’t just walk away from this. We have to tell someone
about the conspiracy, Jin. If we don’t do anything and the
conspirators blow up the palace, or turn a death ray on a crowd
where the queen is giving a speech, or whatever they have
planned...a lot of innocent people are going to get killed. I
couldn’t live with myself if that happened, could you?”

He opened his mouth, then shut it again.
Del
.

He’d spun more than one lie for poor Molly,
although this one was a lie of omission, at least. He hadn’t
mentioned the part Malachi intended for Del and him to play. The
part he had
built
them to play. If anyone found out about
that...

They’ll shoot Del on sight, the same as
they’d do a maddened dog. Me too, maybe.

Yet, if he refused, people would certainly
die. A large number of people, most likely.

“You’re right,” he said at last, heavily.
“But I need some sort of assurance that Del won’t be hurt.”

“It’s obvious that your sister is a victim,”
Molly said. “Don’t you see, Jin? This is your chance, not just to
do the right thing, but to rescue Del. Instead of doing it on your
own, you’ll have the Eroevian government behind you.”

I hope you’re right
. “Very well. So
what do we do? Go to the police and pray they think we aren’t
crackpots?”

To his surprise, Molly shook her head. “No.
I’ve got a better idea.”

Chapter 5

“Your sister lives
here?”
Jin
asked.

They stood in the street in front of
Ellington House. A high brick wall faced the street, pierced only
by a small iron gate. The house was set far enough back that only a
few white cornices could be glimpsed. Otherwise, the bare branches
of enormous oaks and willows formed a tangled canopy that protected
the privacy of those within and lent the property an air of
mystery.

“That’s right,” Molly said. “Winifred’s
husband isn’t important enough to actually live on the palace
grounds, but he’s done well enough. Why do you sound so surprised?
I thought you said Dr. Malachi was rich. Didn’t you grow up
somewhere like this?”

Jin eyed the imposing walls and the bit of
garden that could be glimpsed through the gates. “Yes, but...you
work in a
shop
.”

“I wasn’t born in one,” she snapped. “Not
that it’s any business of yours, but I lived in Brasstown for
several years. We had a townhouse—nothing like this, but I’m in the
gutter by choice instead of necessity.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You’re hardly
in the gutter.”

“Yes, well, tell that to my mother.”

Molly headed for the gate before he could ask
any more questions. The footman stuck his head out of the little
guardhouse when she rang the bell, and his face broke into a wide
grin at the sight of her.

“Miss Feldman! You’re looking well. The
mistress didn’t say you were coming for a visit today.”

“Hello, Crowley. Winifred isn’t expecting
me,” Molly explained as she waited for him to open the gate. “How’s
your daughter?”

“More like her dear mother every day,”
Crowley said fondly, as he swung back one of the elaborate iron
gates. “Enjoy your visit, miss, sir.”

“You must come here often,” Jin said as they
made their way up a flagstone path that wended its way through the
gardens.

“Not really,” Molly said, hoping a curt
answer would prevent him from asking yet more questions about her
family.

“Oh. The guard seemed...familiar...with you,
though.”

“Crowley isn’t a guard, he’s more of a
doorman. He’s only there to make sure random people don’t wander in
off the street. And he’s familiar with me, as you put it, because I
talk to him. I find that people like it when you treat them like
human beings and not automata.” Her mouth quirked wryly. “Trust me,
I know of what I speak. You ought to hear how rude some of the
customers at the shop can be.”

“I see,” Jin said. “Del and I were never
encouraged to interact with the staff beyond the basic necessities.
Given the sort of people Father—I mean, Dr. Malachi—hired, I doubt
most of them wanted to interact with us, either. They came because
they needed the money, or wanted to be left alone, or had reasons
of their own for hiding from the outside world. And of course, none
of them could have any inconvenient relatives who might come asking
if they should...disappear.”

Molly shuddered. “Did that happen often?”

Jin hunched his shoulders. “If they
displeased him. Asked too many questions, or tried to steal from
the liquor cabinet. Or tried to leave—that was always the worst. He
took it as a personal betrayal, I think.” His throat worked as he
swallowed. “No one left, once they were on manor grounds. No one
ever left.”

And I thought my family was bad. Mother
and I might not get along, but at least she’s not a homicidal
maniac
. Molly paused long enough to put a hand to his arm. Jin
looked up, startled, one of the feathers in his hair curving along
his cheek.

“
You
left,” she said gently. “So will
your sister. We’ll get her out of there, Jin. I promise.”

How she would keep that promise, she had no
idea, but it was worth it for the smile that lit his face.

The butler waited impatiently for them at the
door; no doubt Crowley had signaled ahead that guests were coming.
As usual, his livery had been starched to the point that Molly
wondered it didn’t cut him when he moved. “Miss Feldman,” he said
with a stiff bow and a disapproving sneer for her clothing. “And
how may I announce your...guest?”

“Jin Malachi.”

“Very good, miss. Follow me.”

As they trailed after him into the foyer,
Molly leaned close to Jin and whispered: “I’ve been trying to talk
Winifred into replacing him with an automaton.”

Jin contemplated the stiff line of the
butler’s back. “How would you be able to tell the difference?”

Molly muffled a snicker with her hand, but
she thought the butler’s gait grew even stiffer.

Winifred and her husband were in the study,
writing letters. The room was relatively small and intimate, its
walls painted robin’s-egg blue and trimmed in white plaster figures
depicting the lives of the saints. A brilliant blue macaw sat on a
perch in the corner, using its enormous beak to break open some
exotic nut. Pomanders scented the air with cinnamon and clove, and
a cheerful fire crackled in the hearth.

The butler announced Molly and Jin, then
withdrew without looking in their direction again. Winifred set
aside her pen and paper and rose to her feet, smiling brightly. She
was impeccably dressed in a simple primrose day gown, her hair
caught back in ribbons that curled artfully to her shoulders.