Authors: Gloria Harchar
Maestro referred to the name of a particular shade of blue
recently developed in England
.
Not only could Allegro
see how two people felt for each other had anything to do with England
'
s national well-being
, but to say that a
dye
was just as important?
"
How can
dye
and love—things that are
so
trivial—
have an effect on something so huge
?
"
Maestro gave Allegro a mysterious smile.
"
Perhaps you will have your an
swers when the mission is over
.
"
Allegro threw up his h
ands, irritated over the whole assignment
.
Why not send him on a task where he could use his skill at reconciling rulers at loggerhead with each other?
"
How are we suppo
sed to start this mission? Where d
o
we begin?
"
"
I
'll tell you
.
"
Glissando gazed at him with an intent expression, the book cupped in his palm and dangling at his side.
Maestro rose from his fluffy, royal-looking chair.
"
My cue
to leave the pair of you to
your planning.
"
He took a step toward the Jetstream, then paused.
"
Oh, and Allegro.
"
"
Ye
s, sir
?
"
"
Always remember, i
f you succeed in this assignment, you just might get elected to be Mayor of Overture.
"
Overture.
Mayor
. How
did
Maestro
know
he
yearned
to be in a position to lead the people of hi
s beloved hometown?
Maestro spread his brilliant
wings and jump
ed
off the dais, black coattails flapping as he fl
ew away, riding on a
wind
current
.
With a sigh of resignation,
he turned to
his partner
.
"
All right, tell me what you know.
"
Glissando reached up to shelve the book away in the special cloud-enhanced bookcase, taking his time.
"
The girl
is the crux of the whole mission.
"
"
And why is that?
"
"
She
is a Diderot
.
"
"
Of course.
"
Allegro remembered from his study of the histories that the
Diderots had been the pixies
'
friends for generations. The union started when one of the Diderots from Medieval times married a Woodland Elf.
The Elves were obliterated by evil shapeshifters
from Northern England
, which
was when
the pixies
unite
d
with the Diderots.
But if he remembered right, that connection was beginning to diminish.
"
Her father
'
s mother was the most recent descendant who had the aura of a
Diderot. The grandmother married a Moore
, which makes the girl
'
s father a Moore, thus the girl a Moore
.
What a shame Western culture drops female surnames.
"
Glissando rubbed a finger along the cloud bank, gathering bits of sparkling pixie dust.
"
She has a knack for producing
dyes
of unusual shades. However, this particular Diderot has a peculiar trait.
"
"
Go on.
"
Glissando rolled the dust between his fingers, generating even more dust, making a good-sized pebble. Then he looked up.
"
T
he
girl
shows
abilities only the
ancient Woodland Elves
had
.
"
"What do you mean?"
"
As you hopefully remember from the ancient studies, the Woodland Elves were experts in nurturing nature to make all vegetation flourish. They were close to the One who created all life.
There is something surreal about the
Clockwork
Blue
, the
dye
she concocted.
The problem is
, she isn't aware of
the otherworldly. S
o she can't control the elements she infuses into the
dye
. In fact, s
he eschews her Diderot heritage, which means if the recipe to the
Clockwork
Blue
ever gets into the wrong hands—"
"
We're doomed," Allegro finished. "
This
mission just gets better and better.
And how do you propose we
get this girl to listen to us?
"
"
With a slight deception and b
y using her good-heartedness against her.
"
Allegro
'
s heart sank to his feet. The mission hadn
'
t even begun and already he dreaded going to work
.
After weeks of planning,
Malcolm
McPherson
, Earl of Falconwoo
d, prepared
to snare his prey. Nicola
Moore
and her reckless
cousin
were
on the verge of
step
ping
right into his trap.
Malcolm pushed
aside the accounts he
'
d been studying,
and
glanced once more at the invitation
he
'
d received the other day
. The foolscap had been p
erfumed with lavender, but he imagined the acrid scent of a discharged pistol as he wore a uniform d
ye
d in
Clockwork
Blue
.
H
e
fingered a swatch of fabric,
and
held the sample up to the late eve
ning sun as it
glowed through a
win
dow in his
study
. The cloth
had been drenched in deep color,
the pigment so rich his brea
th caught in his chest. A driving desire overwhelmed him. He
must
own the rights to
the shade
. B
usiness
ruled his craving for the dye
, he decided.
He wanted to be able to look down the street and see British
soldi
ers wearing
the
unusual shade
—a
steel-
blue and aquamarine
combination
—
a
shad
e
belonging to him
.
Once he obtained the rights, he would approach the Duke of Clarence and offer to supply the King's army with uniforms
dyed
in
Clockwork
Blue
.
W
hy
the yearning to own the dye?
He didn't comprehend it,
but the
Clockwork
Blue
was his destiny, and anyone attached to it.
Angry shouts
,
beeping horns,
neighing horses,
and the rumble of motorcars
floated up from the street below, reminding him briefly of Bombay. The sounds were a caustic welcome to
Malcolm
after being
away for ten
ye
ars
.
Not that he'd
expected a greeting from anyone in the two weeks since his return to Nottingh
am.
What
could
they
be
arguing about at this late hour?
All shops had closed
by now.
"
My lord, are you certai
n you should go to a commoners
'
ball?
"
Gaspar,
Malcolm
'
s servant and right-hand man for seven
ye
ars,
eyed
the invitation. He shifted nervously, his bulk causing the floor of the second-story office to creak.