The Doomsday Vault (46 page)

“I have,” Gavin said with relief.

“May I see it?”

Gavin held up the silver nightingale, and Ambassador Lung let out another sigh. “That is indeed the object.”

“What do you mean?” Gavin asked.

At that moment, the front door opened, and into the room strode a Chinese boy of perhaps seventeen, though he was dressed in an ordinary shirt and trousers. Gavin leapt to his feet. “My God!”

“You!” The boy ran over and shook Gavin's hand in both of his. “It is you!”

Alice blinked, bewildered. “What's going on?”

“He saved my life,” the boy said. “He saved me!”

“Where have
you
been?” Jun asked sharply, then dropped into Chinese. The boy responded in kind, alternating between looking abashed and stubborn. Jun was clearly struggling to keep his temper under control in front of guests.

“This is Feng Lung, my son,” Jun said finally. “And that nightingale he gave you was built by my grandfather, who was one of the Dragon Men.”

“Dragon Men?” Alice asked.

“Your empire calls them clockworkers.”

“You are unhappy that I gave him the nightingale, Father, but I would be a memory for your sorrow instead of a target for your anger if not for him,” Feng said.

“What
are
you talking about?” Alice said.

“It happened in Hyde Park,” Gavin began.

“Of course it did.”

As Gavin told the story of how he hid a young Oriental man from his pursuers, Alice's eyes went wider and wider.

“I was in the park that day,” she said breathlessly. “I heard your music, the most beautiful music since God created the earth, and then I heard the shot. I thought I must have been hearing things.”

Feng added, “I gave my brave friend the nightingale as a token to one who saved me with his music. And now he can copy his music whenever he wishes.”

“Copy?” Gavin said.

Now Feng looked surprised. He dropped to the sofa next to Gavin. “Haven't you seen? If you press the left eye, the bird listens to sounds until you press that eye again. If you press the right eye, it sings the sounds for you.”

Astounded, Gavin held the bird up. Feng pressed the left eye. “Good morning,” Gavin said, then pressed the right eye.

“Good morning,” the bird said in Gavin's voice.

Gavin gaped. “Is that what I sound like?” he said.

“It's wonderful!” Alice said. “A true treasure.”

“Yes.” Jun stroked his chin. “But now you must tell me why you came here. I thought it was about the nightingale.”

Alice shook her head. “It's about the clockwork plague and clockworkers.”

“Ah. Did the Queen send you?”

“What? No!” Alice said. “The Queen has no idea we're—”

“I wouldn't be so sure of that,” Jun interrupted. “She's a well-informed woman, and I'm surprised she allows your country to treat Dragon Men—clockworkers—with such deplorable disdain.”

“What do you mean?” Gavin asked.

“You Englishmen shun clockworkers as if they carry disease,” Feng put in. “In my country, Dragon Men are revered. We gather them up and give them workshops and money and status so they can create their wonderful inventions. A Dragon Man brings any family great honor.”

“And what about Dragon Women?” Alice asked.

“They are all Dragon Men,” Jun said, “whether they are male or female. Though I suppose China should not complain about the way Britain treats its clockworkers. The balance of power between our empires, as I'm sure you know, is delicate. The British Empire controls the oceans and most of the air, and it has colonies everywhere. The Chinese Empire does not expand its borders, but it does control the tea, silk, and porcelain trades. Europe and the Ukrainian Empire separate us, so we don't come into direct conflict, but the . . . tension is still there.”

“Especially over opium,” Feng said.

Jun shot him a hard look. “At any rate, our empires are locked in a continual game of má què. Do you know the game?”

“I've only recently learned of it,” Alice said.

“It's the best game in the world,” Feng said. “Father and I play against the Queen and the Prince Consort all the time. We let them win when Father wants something.”

“Does it work?” Gavin asked.

Feng nodded. “Usually.”

“What does má què have to do with clockworkers?” Alice interjected.

Jun said, “The players draw ivory tiles of varying value and power, which they meld until a winner becomes clear. The Dragon Men and clockworkers are powerful, random tiles in our little game. They appear when they wish, helping out one player and then the other, but they balance out both sides in the long run.”

The world swirled dizzily for a moment. The solution hung there in front of Alice like ripe fruit, and she
knew.

“Balance out,” she echoed. “Good heavens. Dear Lord. Ambassador, thank you for seeing us, but we have to go.”

“What?” Feng said. “I want to know my friend better.”

“Later.” Alice was already on her feet, which forced the men to rise. “Gavin, we have to leave. Now.”

Jun Lung caught Gavin's arm. “My son may have repaid you the favor you did, but I have not. Honor still binds me to you, and I hope to see you again, young sir.”

With that, they left. Down in the lobby, Gavin turned to Alice. “What was that all about?”

“I understand what's happening with Aunt Edwina and Lieutenant Phipps,” she said. “And I want a damned stiff drink before I tell you about it.”

 

A bit later, they were sitting at a corner table in a pub. Gavin had a Guinness at his elbow, and Alice had a very bad glass of wine. She gulped it down without tasting it, and her hands were shaking as she signaled for another.

“Tell me,” Gavin said worriedly, “before you get too drunk to talk.”

“It's all about balance.” Alice leaned across the table, hardly able to believe she was saying these words, but knowing they were true nonetheless. “The Third Ward wants to lock Edwina up because the Crown wants to make sure her cure never, ever gets used.”

“What?”
Gavin folded his arms. “That's ridiculous.”

“Is it? Ambassador Lung reminded us how delicate the balance is between China and England. Little conflicts flare up between us, but never quite escalate into an all-out war. We both trade. We make and break treaties. We negotiate. Why? Because both sides collect clockworkers who build little toys.
Both sides have the same technological advantage.
What would happen if England released Aunt Edwina's cure?”

“Countless plague victims would recover?”

“Unimportant,” Alice said, “from the British Empire's point of view. The plague would stop creating clockworkers. Once the current ones went mad and died, we'd have none. An end to clockworkers means an end to world-bending inventions for England, and
that
means China would become the most powerful empire in the world.”

“The cure would get to China,” Gavin countered. “Their clockworker supply would dry up, too.”

“The cure would take quite a while to spread to China,” Alice said. “Months, even years. That's all it would take for China to pull ahead, potentially forever. The Crown won't risk that. So they're suppressing Aunt Edwina's cure.”

“And condemning thousands to a slow, terrible death,” Gavin finished softly. His Guinness remained untouched. “That's terrible.”

“Do you believe it?” Alice half hoped he would say she was mad, that he would find some flaw in her theory to prove it wrong, but he only rubbed his palms over his face and sighed.

“I believe it completely.”

Alice felt proud of her deduction and absolutely wretched about it at the same time. Gavin reached across the table and took her hand. The gesture made her feel slightly better.

The pub door opened, and Feng slipped in. Ignoring the stares of the other patrons, he dropped into a chair next to Gavin and signaled for a drink. “Found you,” he said in his uneven English. “I will not lose you again.”

Gavin shifted uncomfortably. “Look, I don't know what you want from me, Feng, but I'm not—”

“I have no friends here,” Feng blurted out. “Everyone looks at me; they see a Chinese man. They see a curiosity. They see a son of the ambassador, grandnephew of the emperor. My father wants me to learn diplomacy, and I try and try, but I'm no damned good at it. If I sneak out to do something fun, it gets me into trouble.”

“By fun, you mean women?” Gavin said shrewdly.

“Many times,” Feng replied with an unabashed grin. “They think Chinese boys will show them something different. They say there are many things English boys will not do.”

“Mr. Lung!” Alice said. “Perhaps this is a conversation you and Mr. Ennock could finish later.”

“You see?” Feng said. “This is why I am a bad diplomat.”

“Your English is very good,” Gavin said kindly.

“I gave you the nightingale because it is meant to carry messages to secret lovers,” Feng told him.

“Now look—”

“No, no.” Feng laughed. “Boys like you do not please me.”

“But others boys do?” Alice couldn't help asking.

“Why not?” He leaned forward. “Have you ever tried them, Gavin?”

“No!”

“Then how do you know—”

“Mr. Lung,” Alice put in, “what is your point?”

“The nightingale remembers who held it last and will fly to that person. You can put your voice in it and let it fly away. Then it will return with another message. We can use it to communicate, too, as friends. I had no chance to explain it to you, but I hoped you would figure it out.” His Guinness arrived, and he drained it quickly. “I should go, before Father becomes angry again. Good-bye, my friends.”

And he was gone.

“I
t is finished!” Dr. Clef pushed his goggles onto his high forehead and gave Gavin a wide smile. One of his eyeteeth was missing. “Can you believe? The most difficult thing I have ever created!”

Gavin put out a finger to touch the cube on Dr. Clef's worktable. The cube was the size of a shoebox and made of a frame of thin beams. And it
twisted.
The edges crossed one another in impossible ways, with the front going behind the back, or the back coming before the front. It made Gavin dizzy. When his hand approached it, his fingers seemed suddenly too far away. He pulled back.

“What does it do?” Gavin asked.

“Turn the crank on the generator and you will see,” Dr. Clef replied. “Or perhaps I should say you will
hear.
”

Gavin turned the crank. Electricity crackled at the spot where the Impossible Cube was connected to the wire. The cube glowed blue and drifted slowly upward. Gavin thought of his new airship. He hadn't tested it in open sky yet.

Dr. Clef picked up a tuning fork from a set on the table and tapped it. A clear tone—G, Gavin noted—rang out. Dr. Clef pressed the base of the fork against one side of the cube. The note roared into full volume, but it was more than just an auditory note. It went straight through Gavin's body, through muscle and bone and into his soul. For a moment he felt as if he had no corporeal self. He had fallen into dust and scattered over the entire universe. Then the note ended, and he was standing in the workroom again. He stopped cranking, and the cube sat inert, though it continued to twist the eye.

“What the hell was that?” he gasped.

“Very interesting,” Dr. Clef observed. “Try this one.” He struck another fork—D-sharp—and before Gavin could stop him, he pressed the base against one side of the cube and cranked the handle himself. A cone of sound blasted from the prongs of the fork and gouged out a section of stone wall. Chunks of rock crashed to the floor.

“I like that one,” Dr. Clef said. “How about this one?”

“Stop it!” Gavin shouted, but Dr. Clef struck an A-flat and pressed it to the cube.

With a
pop
, the cube vanished. It left behind a severed electrical wire.

“
Nicht!
” Dr. Clef exclaimed.

The workroom door banged open, and Lieutenant Phipps rushed in with two agents behind her. It was the first time he had seen her since the Ward had captured Edwina several days ago. “What the hell was that?” she demanded. “I think everyone within a mile felt it.”

“Which one?” Gavin said. “The soul sound or the explosion?”

“I'm not in the mood for jokes, Agent Ennock. Doctor Clef? What happened?”

Dr. Clef's wide blue eyes were filling with tears. “My cube! He is gone! Months of work, gone!”

“It's true,” Gavin said. “It vanished. Right after it did that to the wall.”

“Huh. Maybe it's for the best, then.” She turned to leave, along with the agents. Gavin ran to catch up with her.

“Lieutenant,” he said, “I wanted to ask you—”

“If it's about your supposedly secret airship, Agent Ennock, you know we encourage our agents to—”

“No.” He shook his head as the other agents withdrew and Dr. Clef continued to sob over his worktable. “Nothing like that. I wanted to ask about the clockwork plague. Edwina claimed to have a cure, and—”

“That's enough, Agent Ennock.”

“But—”

“Shut it, boy!” she snapped. Then she closed her eyes for a moment with a sigh and put her metal hand on his shoulder, the most human gesture he had ever seen her make. “Listen, Gavin, I know a cure is important to Alice, which makes it important to you. But I've interviewed Edwina extensively and have personally gone through all her research. She's completely mad. There is no cure and never has been. And we can't afford to start rumors of one. You can imagine how the public would react.”