Imperial Clock (The Steam Clock Legacy) (44 page)

No, don
’t let her haunt you forever. Things change. Change with them, damn it.

“
You’re not half distracted today, Red, love.” Angharad patted his shoulder, whispered, “Best snap to, deary—you’ve got a customer waitin’.”

“
Huh? Oh, right.” He reached into his tunic pocket for his spectacles, but found only glass shards and wire. “Bugger,” he muttered. “Hey, do you me a favour, Angharad? Read me the time. My spec—”

“
Ten minutes to ten.” She turned away and began sweeping up the spilled chestnuts, the broom nestled awkwardly under her one arm.

“
Shout for Bertie or one of the others,” he said. “Someone needs to watch my stall for a while.”

“
Why? You have some kind of royal engagement we don’t know about?”

“
Not exactly royal, but...I’ll explain later. Have to fly. Sorry.” From behind the crate of fresh apples under the counter he snatched the pile of letters he’d written over the past few nights. He counted them—all there. He checked to make sure no one was watching, then slid the letters into his leather belt pouch, fastened the stud, and patted it for good luck.

The bemused fathe
r of three waiting to be served tipped his bowler as Red limped out from behind the counter, the
clank, click-click, clank
of the mechanical leg an object of fascination for the toddlers. Red marched with as much spring as he could manage, ignoring the gasps from passers-by—expensive clockwork limbs like his were rarely seen outside high society. A steam organ’s soft, nasal rendition of
Land of Hope and Glory
trailed him all the way to the exit. It recalled warmer days tinged with patriotism, the naive, blissful kind that swelled an Englishman’s heart. A feeling he’d lost long ago.

He glanced around to
make sure he wasn’t being followed. A Leviacrum agent might be anywhere or anyone these days, scouring for hints of sedition. He sucked in a wintry breath and sighed. These people were so impressed by all this steam power and modern science. How little they knew about what was
really
underway in London and Angola, the true power set to be unleashed. And soon, very soon, he would have to return to the fighting.

After Christmas, damn it. I
’ve at least earned that much.

***