Legacy of the Clockwork Key (26 page)

The Amusementists had an eye for detail, it seemed. From the thick velvet draperies to the hand-blown glass of the lamps, the cabin looked as if some grand naval commander had charted the course of his ship in this room for years. Framed woodcuts depicted ships locked in battle with giant tentacled beasts. Cobwebs hung from the arms of the lamps and the carved molding, subtly shifting with the power of our awed breath.

“It’s the captain.” Oliver’s voice stabbed through me, even though he’d said nothing extraordinary. It had merely broken the silence. That was enough to set me on edge.

An automaton stood at the desk, looking stately in a dusty bicorn and dark blue coat with buttoned-back white lapels and gold braid. He reminded me a bit of Napoleon. He even had the emperor’s stature. His blank face, though completely smooth, somehow seemed to scowl at the charts strewn out before him.

“Look.” Will rubbed his hand over the captain’s chart.

The words “Play it” had been scrawled in a rough hand across the surface of the map.

THERE WAS ONLY ONE THING I COULD PLAY, AND ONLY
one place to play it. I crossed the plush Turkish carpet with a great deal of apprehension. I’d only ever performed on the pianoforte, never the harpsichord. Although the two instruments looked similar in shape, they couldn’t have been more different.

For one, the harpsichord’s keys were black with the half steps white. A delicate mosaic of blue and green tiles surrounded the double-level keyboard. Beneath the lid, a hand-painted image of a ship lost on a stormy sea loomed over the taut strings, and inlays of pale wood swirled like growing vines in the dark red cabinet.

But more than that, the entire instrument had been fitted
with wheels, cogs, tiny pistons, and brass shafts, so beneath the strings, the entire inside of the cabinet looked like the crowded inner workings of a pocket watch.

Please don’t let me forget.

The thought of missing a single note terrified me. I had no idea what the consequences of a mistake might be. I only knew one thing. I had to play my grandfather’s song.

The key could not help me now.

I pulled off my leather gloves and placed my hands on the smooth ebony keys, leaving dark smudges in the fine coat of dust. I let my grandfather’s song play through my mind.

Once again I could see him in our sitting room, laughing as I stood on his toes and we danced.

I wanted to be with him again so badly.

I pressed the first note, then the others followed in steady rhythm as if each note followed the beat of my heart.

The harpsichord plucked the tinny-sounding strings and filled the ship with high, metallic notes. The cogs and wheels were set in motion, spinning shafts below the instrument that disappeared through the floor. The ship, or perhaps it was the cavern itself, rumbled and shook.

I continued to play, refusing to break my concentration on the song.

Light spilled in through the dusty windows along the back of the room. The rumbling increased, the ship swaying against its ties.

“Keep going, Meg,” Oliver urged.

Something struck the ship. I started, and Oliver ran out the door. I turned to watch him go.

“Don’t worry about him. You can do this,” Will encouraged, taking a place by my side.

I gritted my teeth and played. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched humongous stone blocks slowly lowering on huge chains along the back of the cavern as a narrow shaft of light grew, much the way the light used to stream in when I pulled back the heavy curtains in Rathford’s study. I stared at the counterweights, now bathed in light, with awe, watching them drop with a grace that belied their enormous mass. Only those counterweights had the power to wind the ship and open the massive doors in the cliff face. Only I had the power to lower them.

My fingers stumbled and the ship shuddered. The sound of groaning metal filled the cavern. I had to keep going. I took a deep breath and focused on the music with everything I had. It was all that mattered.

The song flowed through me as I played. It was a part of
me. I didn’t need the key around my neck. I was the key.

Hitting the notes with greater fervor, I made the harpsichord sing merrily as the world outside seemed to shake to pieces.

As I reached the end of the song, the stones hit the floor of the cavern with a crushing
boom
.

“Meg, come look,” Will said. I pushed off the bench and joined him at the captain’s desk.

The automaton had come to life, perusing his charts with a slightly jerking motion of his head. His tall bicorn slid on his smooth head as he looked this way and that. Then his hand, nearly as golden as the braids at his cuff, rolled the chart to the side and reached under the desk. Will glanced at me and grinned almost as if he enjoyed this. How far we’d come.

“You seem amused,” I teased.

“This one doesn’t have horns.”

Click
. Gears rattled as the center of the desk rose straight up on brass legs.

Beneath it, the light caught the edge of the fifth plate.

Will gave me an impressed nod. “Well done.”

I reached into the secret compartment and my fingers closed around the plate. A part of me couldn’t believe it had been that simple, but then, it wouldn’t have been a simple
task for anyone else. It would have been impossible. I tucked the plate into the satchel and savored my moment of victory.

A gust of wind blew the door to the captain’s quarters open. The rush of air straight off the cold lake waters cut through my clothes, and I rubbed my arms.

Will pulled the coat off the captain’s back then held it out for me.

I slid my arms into the sleeves, pulling my braids forward so they wouldn’t catch on the epaulets. Will helped settle the comforting weight of the fine wool and linen on my shoulders then dusted off the back.

“He’s not going to need it,” Will commented as he looked at the naked brass torso of the captain. “And it suits you better.”

I ran my hand over the lovely ivory panels held back by brass buttons in the front. It made me feel important.

Will gazed into my eyes. It made me feel important to him. “What now, captain?” He gave me a mock salute.

I smiled. “It’s time to set sail.”

We hurried out of the captain’s quarters. “We found the fifth plate!” I called to Oliver and Lucinda.

“Best be off then before this storm closes in.” Oliver tugged on a waist-high lever, forcing it down. The lever gave
suddenly with a resonant
clunk
that nearly pulled him over.

A brass shaft detached from the side of the ship and receded slowly back into the stone bank of the canal. “Help me with these others.” Oliver shoved back his cuffs and pulled on another.

Lucinda tried a lever, but it took my efforts combined with hers to release the shaft. Working around the deck, we managed to detach them all. Finally, the ship was free.

The deck rose and sank in a disconcerting motion. I found I had to steady myself by holding on to the rail. For the first time I could really see the interior of the cavern. I felt as if I’d stepped inside the innards of a gargantuan locomotive. The complex gear works reached up both cavern walls, as brass girders supported pipes arching over the ceiling of the cave.

The cliff doors had slid open, revealing the lake beyond. Wind-swept water rushed into the short canal, lapping at the hull of the ship. The sounds of wind and water surrounded us as I marveled at the mechanism that engulfed both walls of the cavern.

The gears seemed to be the size of houses. How did men make such things?

This was too big for me.

“Who’s going to sail this thing?” I asked Oliver. I had never been on a ship, much less driven one, if that was even the proper term.

“Well, you, of course,” Oliver said as if it were obvious.

“What?” I couldn’t steer the ship. Clearly he had lost all sense completely. “I’m a girl. The closest I’ve come to sailing a ship is floating a saucer in a tub full of water.”

Oliver waved his hand as if shooing a fly. “This ship has been sitting in this cave for years now. The gears are going to give us trouble. You’ll need me down below manning the cannons.”

“You?” Lucinda interrupted. “Your aim is terrible. You couldn’t hit the lake. I’ll man the cannons.” She crossed her arms. “And if I can be the gunner, you can be the captain, Meg.”

Oliver cocked his head and glared at her. “In any case, if gears or levers are caught, Lucinda and I know how to work the automatons below.”

“What about Will?” My voice pitched higher. “I can keep lookout while he’s steering up on the high deck.”

“It’s called the poop deck.” Oliver tested one of the levers we’d just used to detach the winding shaft.

Poop deck? Surely he was jesting.

“I can do it.” Will straightened, looking a bit like a brawny sea captain.

“We need your strength on the main deck,” Oliver reasoned. “The automatons down here raise the sails and spin the wheels that drive the carriage below us. If they aren’t working, you’ve got to crank the gears or we won’t be able to move. You’ve got an eye for how these things work.”

“But . . .” I didn’t know if I could do this.

Oliver clapped his hands on my arms. “If you can fly, you can sail.”

I suddenly regretted telling him anything about the Icarus wings.

He led me to the steep stairs that rose to the poop deck. Oh heavens, he was going to make me do this. “Just hold the wheel steady. The chain will keep you tethered to the track.”

Yes, a track that would lead us straight into battle with no chance of retreat. I drew the captain’s coat close around me. Was I expected to go down with the ship? Damnation, if something went wrong, we’d all drown.

“How do we win?” I asked.

“Simple. The creature has a target at the base of his throat. We only need one good shot at it,” Oliver explained.

“You mean like that target?” My voice cracked as I pointed to the large medallion fixed to the main mast.

Oliver shrugged. “Well, yes, that . . . if the Leviathan hits that, a hatch opens up below and the ship goes under.”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

Oliver lifted a hatch in the deck, revealing a narrow set of stairs. “All you have to do is find a way to get us in line for the shot, and keep us from sinking.” Oliver jumped down the first two steps, holding his hand out for Lucinda. He thumped the deck twice with his fist. “Good luck!”

Good luck. Honestly? That’s all he had to say? “Go right ahead, Meg, sail the ship. Oh, and don’t drown us,” I muttered.

Will snorted as he unwound one of the ropes from a cleat on the rail. “At least we don’t have to grab the sea monster by the horns.”

“This isn’t over yet,” I warned. “I just hope Lucinda’s a good shot, because that’s the only thing that’s going to save us from a long swim.” I helped Will with the rest of the ropes, and then we climbed up the steep stair to the poop deck.

An automaton waited with his hands on the wheel. “Why can’t we just let him drive?” I tapped his smooth blank face then pulled on the lapels of my new coat.

“He didn’t do such a good job the first time, remember?” Will studied the brass man, then pulled down two levers in his calves, detaching him from the deck. I helped him drag the automaton to the railing. He slumped against it as if he’d just been demoted.

“Then
you
steer the ship,” I said. “I’ll make sure the automatons are working.”

Will clasped his hands on my shoulders and leveled me with an intensely intimate stare. “What is the matter?”

My words caught in my throat. I looked down at the deck, unable to say a thing.

“Meg, you’ve jumped headlong into every Amusement we’ve encountered, with no care for anything, even your life. Why are you balking now?” He lifted my chin, forcing me to face the scrutiny of his gaze.

How could I explain? I didn’t want to fail. I didn’t want Oliver to feel I was a disappointment, or Lucinda to think I wasn’t daring.

More than anything, I didn’t want to let Will down. With the coach, all I’d had to do was release the raven. Gearhenge was an accident. And at the labyrinth, I’d faced the Minotaur to save him. I hardly knew what I was doing, and he was the one who defeated it, not me.

Steering a ship took skill. Skill I didn’t have.

“I don’t know what to do. What if I get us all killed?”

Will cupped my cheek in his hand. “You won’t. I know you won’t. Just hold the wheel steady. I’ll raise the sails and keep the crew in line. We should pray Lucinda is a good shot for good measure, because she’s right. Oliver is terrible.”

I chuckled, then covered his hand with my own.

“I’m with you.” He brushed a quick kiss on my cheek then led me to the wheel.

Those simple words did more to bolster my spirit than anything else could. He was with me. I knew he held affection for me. Was it enough? I wasn’t sure, but in that moment, it was what I needed.

I grabbed hold of the wheel.

Will pulled a waist-high lever in the deck, and with a jerk and another low groan of turning gears, the ship sailed forward.

The wooden pegs of the wheel pressed into my hands as the ship sailed through the massive cavern doors. The waves lapped against the false cliff front, echoing in the chamber before we cleared the cavern and the wind buffeted me.

Taking a step back, I braced myself and held tightly to the wheel as I felt the first drops of rain against my cheek.
The automatons had come to life. About half of them jerked in metallic spasms, as the others turned various cranks on the deck, like tiny figures in a strange but beautiful music box.

Will hurried over the deck, repairing the automatons, occasionally kicking them back into motion. Then he wrenched at the cranks, loosening the stiff machinery, helping to power the various wheels with his own strength. Slowly the masts rose, reaching to the sky until they towered over us.

The brass crew pulled ropes and secured the lines as enormous square sails, beaten and tattered, unfurled from the risen masts. Will yelled to them. He’d taken naturally to his new role as quartermaster of the most bizarre crew to ever sail.