Puppet © January 2024 E. C. Hibbs
Lo! Death has reared himself a throne
In a strange city lying alone
Far down within the dim West,
Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best
Have gone to their eternal rest.
There shrines and palaces and towers
(Time-eaten towers and tremble not!)
Resemble nothing that is ours.
Around, by lifting winds forgot,
Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters lie.
In a strange city lying alone
Far down within the dim West,
Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best
Have gone to their eternal rest.
There shrines and palaces and towers
(Time-eaten towers and tremble not!)
Resemble nothing that is ours.
Around, by lifting winds forgot,
Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters lie.
20 years before...
Back and forth. Up and down. Tick tock.
The swing cut through the air like a pendulum, and Leo held tight to the chains, kicking his legs as high as he could.
“You’re going to go over the top!” Daniel warned.
“That’s the point!” Leo said. “Push me! I’m going to the top of the Tower!”
Daniel hung back, but Leo’s brother August immediately ran closer, and shoved him as hard as he could.
The garden wall vanished, followed by the roof of the manor, until Leo was staring up at a pale sky. Then the seat slipped from beneath him. Before he even had time to react, he tumbled backwards and crashed to the ground.
“Are you alright?” August cried.
Leo sat up with a groan. “I’m fine.”
Daniel crossed his arms, in the same stern way his father always did.
“See? What did I tell you?”
“Oh, come on, he’s not hurt,” August said.
He reached out a hand. Leo moved to grasp it, but then he doubled over, coughing. It was so harsh, so relentless, his lungs burned. Would he vomit them up? No, that was impossible…
“Are you sure you’re alright?” August asked again, but this time, there was true concern in his voice.
Leo didn’t respond, except by sticking out his tongue. Then he took his brother’s hand and clambered to his feet. As he stood, his eyes passed over the garden. There were no real flowers there, only metal ones, painted and moulded into elaborate shapes, and placed in perfect rows. A gravel lawn crunched underfoot, and glass beads had been scattered among it, so they caught the sun and shone.
But that wasn’t what drew Leo’s attention. He saw the artificial beauty every day. Instead, he looked towards the gate, and noticed another boy standing there.
He was thin and scrawny, dressed in clothes which were well-made, but clearly old, and didn’t quite fit him. He watched with sheepish curiosity, as though he was regarding a cake in a shop window.
“Who’s that?” Daniel whispered.
“The watch mechanic’s son,” August replied. “His father’s here today, winding the clocks.”
Leo regarded the boy in silence. He had seen him before, but never this close.
“Hello,” he said.
The boy blushed. “Hello, Master Bellamy.”
“Do you want to join us?”
The boy almost fell over with shock. “Oh, I can’t. I need to help my father.”
“Then sneak back later,” Leo said at once. “You’re always done before he is. There’s no point you sitting on the step when you could be here.”
Daniel stepped forward. “Leo, I don’t think—”
“It’s fine,” Leo insisted. “Come back later. Alright?”
The boy hesitated, but then gave a bashful nod, and hurried away, as though looking too long into Leo’s eyes might burn him.
“We’re going to get in trouble,” Daniel snapped.
“No, we won’t,” August replied.
“Maybe you won’t. But if my father finds out…”
“Then he won’t find out. Simple.”
Daniel bit his lip, so hard, Leo thought he might chew straight through it.
“Stop worrying,” he said. “Come on. It’s your turn.”
Daniel glanced between the two of them. Nerves still pinched his mouth into a grimace, but nevertheless, he sat on the swing and began building momentum. Each kick was gentle — too gentle, so Leo ran behind him and pushed.
“No, not too high!” Daniel shrieked, but he couldn’t keep the laughter out of his voice.
“Are you sure?” Leo grinned.
Daniel didn’t protest again. But all the same, his knuckles turned white as they clutched the chains.
The boys took turns as the sun wheeled across the sky. From somewhere far away, the Tower chimed, building its tune every fifteen minutes, before booming out the hour with a series of strong singular tolls. Leo tried to time his breaths to match it, but it only threatened to make him cough, so he stopped.
He wondered, did the Timekeeper breathe in that way? Like everyone, Leo had heard of the mysterious figure who lived inside the Tower, overseeing the master mechanisms which powered everything in the City. He didn’t know who it was — nobody did, except for the Potentate — but that didn’t matter. The job was too important, and if there were secrets to keep it safe, then that was simply the way things were.
A knocking on the gate snapped Leo from his daydream. He looked up, and noticed the watch mechanic’s son had returned. Before Daniel could protest, Leo pulled the boy into the garden.
“Come on,” he smiled. “What’s your name?”
“Uh… Godwin.”
“I know that. Your first name.”
The boy twisted his shirt sleeve nervously. “Malcolm.”
“How high can you swing?”
Malcolm glanced between the three of them. “You… really don’t mind me being here?”
August smiled. “Not at all. You’re here often enough, you probably know the house as well as us, anyway. How come you’ve never said hello before?”
“I was always told not to,” Malcolm replied. “And… I was always busy.”
“Your father doesn’t need you now?”
“No. I’ve done everything he needs me for. But the water heating mechanism in the kitchen is taking longer to fix. That’s something only he can do.”
“Well,” Leo said, “you’re here now. Let’s have some fun.”
Daniel lowered his eyes and moved the gravel with the toe of his shoe.
“This is a bad idea,” he muttered.
“No. It. Isn’t,” Leo said. Then he slapped Malcolm on the wrist. “You’re it!”
Before Malcolm could even react, Leo bolted away. He paused only to cough, but swallowed it down, so August wouldn’t fuss.
The illness had been creeping over him for a while, but this was the season for it: the air hung cold and damp, autumn at its edge. Just like always, he only needed to endure his sore throat for a week, and then he could look forward to Midwinter.
Malcolm looked at Daniel, his hand outstretched, as though approaching a dangerous animal. Leo understood why. Conversing with him and August, the sons of his father’s employer; the sons of Lord Bellamy, was one thing. But Daniel was the son of Potentate Carter. No matter how many times he played with them in the garden, Leo had never seen Daniel get his clothes dirty, or even remove his wig. A boy, he might be, but one day, he would be the leader of the entire City of Forest.
Daniel locked eyes with Malcolm. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then a tiny smile fleeted across Daniel’s lips, and he ran.
Malcolm flew after him, but he swerved at the last moment, and hit August instead.
“Too slow!” Leo laughed at his brother. “You’ll have to run faster than that!”
Malcolm smiled as August leapt at him. It didn’t matter that they would never have mixed in the street. Here, surrounded by the high garden walls, nothing mattered at all.
*
Leo stood still as a maid buttoned him into a powder blue jacket. With every breath, he could smell the lavender water it had been washed in. That was expensive. Lavender was specially grown under artificial suns, and only used in the richest of soaps.
Then the maid fetched a white wig from a stand, and Leo’s heart sank.
“Please don’t give me that look, Master Bellamy,” she said.
Leo sighed. “Just don’t powder it too much.”
He fought the urge to squirm as she fitted it onto his head. He knew it was necessary: he was the future Lord Bellamy, and impressions and etiquette needed to be second nature. But all the same, the thick hairs of the wig made his neck itch, and the shape of it pressed into his temples. His only comfort was knowing that August and Daniel would have to endure this as well.
The maid brought out the powder. Leo held his breath and fixed his attention on a marionette slumped over the end of his bed. Its strings hung tangled together, eyes shining in the lamplight. The original glass ones had fallen out, so in a moment of boredom, Leo had crudely stitched two gears from an old clock over the empty sockets.
“I saw you playing with that boy today,” the maid said.
Leo glanced at her. “Did Father say anything?”
“No. But I should warn you, Master Bellamy, the Potentate won’t be happy if he finds out.”
“Then he won’t find out. He lets Daniel play here, doesn’t he? What harm is one more kid?”
The maid lowered her eyes. “You and your brother are aristocrats, little Master. But a watch mechanic’s son, playing with the heir to the City… Surely, you understand my meaning.”
Leo kept silent. He did understand, but alongside her words ran his own father’s. Where we come from means nothing. It’s how we live that means everything.
When he was ready, he thanked the maid, and then headed onto the landing. It wasn’t long before August appeared, dressed practically identical to him. They shared a nervous glance, walked down the sweeping staircase, and joined their parents in the parlour.
Their mother, Lady Bellamy, was swamped by all manner of frills and layers, her hair pinned into elaborate curls and adored with paper flowers. The smell of her perfume flew up Leo’s nose. It was even stronger than the wig powder.
He held a hand to his mouth and coughed.
“They won’t be long now,” his father muttered, checking his pocket watch.
“Good,” August whispered to Leo. “I’m starving.”
Leo nodded in agreement. The aroma of roast meat was drifting through from the kitchen. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was.
Far above, the Tower chimed. It was muffled by the thick walls of the manor, but Leo still heard it. He could have been at the lowest Level in Forest, and he would never escape that sound.
A flurry of activity suddenly filled the foyer. The family followed it, and waited, arranged like a portrait, as the door was opened. Leo straightened his spine, as though a rod had been forced down the back of his jacket. That was the correct way to stand, his mother insisted.
Daniel stepped inside. He was still wearing a wig, but both it and his clothes were more elaborate now, edged in ribbons of Carter red. Behind him walked his father: an imposing broad-shouldered man, with green eyes as sharp as flint, and a mouth which seemed pinched into a perpetual, yet humourless, smile. A black mourning band encircled his arm, held in place with a filigree pin.
Without needing to be told, Leo and August bowed.
“Welcome, Sir,” their father said. “And welcome to you as well, Master Carter.”
“Thank you,” the Potentate replied. He kissed Lady Bellamy’s hand, then shook Lord Bellamy’s. The ruby rings on their fingers glinted in the lamplight.
Daniel looked more sullen than earlier, as though he had been berated just before the door opened. Leo watched him, hoping he would catch his attention, but Daniel kept his eyes fixed on his father.
“What’s the matter?” August whispered, without moving his lips.
Leo shook his head. The Potentate had probably found out about Malcolm, and scolded Daniel. And Leo knew he wasn’t as forgiving as their own father. Several times, Daniel had been caned so harshly, it left him barely able to sit.
Leo continued watching him as they made their way to the dining room. Daniel took his seat at the table without a wince. So he hadn’t been struck. But there was definitely something wrong.
“How are preparations for your birthday, Sir?” Lord Bellamy asked.
“Oh, they’re coming along,” the Potentate replied. “I trust you and Lady Bellamy are still attending?”
“Of course.”
“Very good. It will be wonderful to celebrate with friends. And without a lunafauna in sight.”
Lord Bellamy dabbed his lips with a napkin. “Lady Feline hasn’t been extended an invite?”
“Any gathering without her is a relief,” the Potentate replied, a hint of vitriol in his voice. “Especially this time. I won’t have her anywhere near me.”
“Has she done something to offend you?”
“Her entire manner offends me. But I refuse to look at her, the creature which can’t die, at my first birthday without High Lady Alice.”
A sombreness fell over the room like a cold mist. Earlier that year, the Potentate’s wife had wasted away as consumption ravaged her body. Despite the best efforts of the doctors and alchemists to save her, it hadn’t been enough. And when she died, she had taken her unborn child with her.
“Of course,” Lady Bellamy said softly. “I’m so sorry. How are you coping?”
“As well as can be expected,” the Potentate replied. “But I’m sure we will be able to move forward in due course. In some manner.”
He glanced at his ring.
Daniel squirmed, but didn’t say anything. Leo quickly took a sip from his water glass. The wig wasn’t the only thing making him uncomfortable now.
But then, to his relief, the Potentate cleared his throat. Like scissors slicing through a piece of ruined material, the subject changed; the pressure in the air vanished. They would not speak about the High Lady any longer.
“Well, soon, all our boys will be old enough to attend such gatherings,” the Potentate said, in a much lighter tone. “Leopold, you’re twelve, aren’t you? The same age as Daniel?”
“Yes, Sir,” Leo said.
“And what of your other son, Lord Bellamy?”
“August is ten.”
“Hm. Tall for his age,” the Potentate said. His smile didn’t drop for a moment. “Time does fly, doesn’t it?”
Suddenly, the lights flickered. Everyone paused. The gears groaned, then the bulbs failed, plunging the room into darkness. But, after only a few seconds, they returned to normal, albeit a little dimmer.
Lady Bellamy groaned. “I do apologise. We’ve been having terrible trouble with our mechanisms lately. Jeremy, you need to call Godwin again.”
“I’ve already had him out twice this week,” Lord Bellamy replied curtly.
“It’s not just your mechanisms, Lady Bellamy,” said the Potentate. “A number of areas across the top three Levels have been suffering the same. It’s a little more widespread — at the moment, at least. Nothing we can’t rectify in due course.”
“So you’re aware of what’s causing it?”
“Yes. Please don’t worry. I know it’s an inconvenience, but I won’t allow it to become anything worse.”
The conversation faded as the soup course was brought out. Leo sat straight, trying to ignore the cough which tried to burst from his chest with every exhale. He threw all his concentration onto the spoon: the way it shone; the vine motif engraved along its length. Like all things in Forest, it was mimicking the nature which could never grow.
Then Leo heard a soft clinking sound, and looked at Daniel again. He had started on the soup too, but his hand was shaking.
He put down the spoon.
“Please excuse me,” he muttered, and slid his chair back.
August leaned forward, as though to follow, but Leo reached under the table and caught his wrist. Then he returned to his soup, but kept glancing at the clock. One minute passed; two; three. Still, Daniel didn’t return.
Finally, the cough swelled. Leo snatched his napkin and held it over his mouth. August threw him a worried glance, but didn’t say anything.
Leo lowered the napkin, and froze. A small smear of blood dotted the white linen.
He forgot to breathe. That had never happened before. No matter how awful the cough, or how tired he had felt…
He slipped the napkin inside his jacket, then got to his feet, gesturing for August to stay.
“I won’t be a moment,” he said.
He felt the adults’ eyes on him, but he walked quickly, before his parents could stop him. The footmen shut the door behind him, and Leo stood alone in the foyer, the moulded ceilings arching above him like an artificial sky.
He dragged a long, shuddering breath into his lungs. Even now, he could taste the blood.
He headed towards the washroom on the other side of the staircase, and knocked.
“Daniel? Are you in there?”
There was a shuffling noise, then Daniel opened the door. His cheeks were red, his eyes bloodshot. The shine of tears lined the side of his nose.
Without a word, Leo pulled him out of earshot of the footmen. The blood could be investigated later.
“What’s the matter?” Leo asked. “Did your father cane you when you went home?”
“No,” Daniel sniffled. “It’s… I don’t even know how to tell you. There’s not enough time.”
“It’s fine. We can go back inside in a minute.”
“I don’t mean like that.”
Leo frowned. He had never heard Daniel sound so despondent. It was as though all the joy had leached out of him, like rain through earth.
“Was it talking about your mother?” Leo asked.
Daniel pressed his lips together, to keep his tears under control.
“Yes. And… my sibling, as well. Leo, I’m so scared! There’s always been at least two Carter children. There has to be. I don’t know what’s going to happen now, and I can’t ever get away from it! It will always be there!”
“What will?” Leo pressed, trying to keep the alarm out of his voice.
Daniel shook his head and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… Forget I said anything.”
Leo hesitated. It was strange to see Daniel cry. He was always so stoic, always trying to emulate his father. Leo knew everyone cried, but it was something done when nobody was looking. Even he stopped himself from crying in front of August. He had to be the big brother, who wasn’t afraid of anything.
But it hurt him to see his friend in such distress, so he did the only thing he could think of. He put his arms around Daniel, and hugged him.
Daniel stayed as stiff as a mannequin. Leo wondered when he had last been embraced — not just by his father, but by anyone.
“It will be fine,” he said.
“It won’t.”
“It will. Are you scared of being Potentate? I’m scared of becoming Lord Bellamy. When they do, it means my Papa will be dead. But that’s not going to happen for a long time.”
Daniel pulled away. “I always thought it would be a long time before my mother died, too. Now it’s just me and Father. And…”
The lights flickered again. Daniel looked up at them, and Leo saw true fear in his face.
“Don’t worry about that,” Leo insisted. “You heard them saying it was nothing. It’s under control.”
Daniel swallowed, so hard, his collar moved.
“But think about it,” Leo insisted. “When you’re Potentate, you’ll be able to do so much good. More than what your father has done with you. When you have kids, you’ll be good at it. There won’t be anyone above you.”
Daniel’s cheeks turned pale. “Please don’t say that.”
Leo frowned. “Why?”
“Master Bellamy? Master Carter?”
A shudder ran up Leo’s spine. He held a finger to his lips, then stepped out from behind the staircase. One of the footmen was standing there, brows lowered in concern.
“Forgive me,” he said, “but Lord Bellamy is asking after you.”
“Were you listening to us?” Leo asked warily.
“Not at all, little Master. But I’d advise against staying out here for much longer.”
Daniel heaved a sigh, and followed Leo. His face was so composed, it was as though he had slipped a mask over his face. Aside from the puffiness around his eyes, there was no trace of his tears at all.
“Are you alright?” Leo whispered.
He knew the answer was no, but Daniel only nodded, stiffly, like a puppet.
“I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
Then the maid fetched a white wig from a stand, and Leo’s heart sank.
“Please don’t give me that look, Master Bellamy,” she said.
Leo sighed. “Just don’t powder it too much.”
He fought the urge to squirm as she fitted it onto his head. He knew it was necessary: he was the future Lord Bellamy, and impressions and etiquette needed to be second nature. But all the same, the thick hairs of the wig made his neck itch, and the shape of it pressed into his temples. His only comfort was knowing that August and Daniel would have to endure this as well.
The maid brought out the powder. Leo held his breath and fixed his attention on a marionette slumped over the end of his bed. Its strings hung tangled together, eyes shining in the lamplight. The original glass ones had fallen out, so in a moment of boredom, Leo had crudely stitched two gears from an old clock over the empty sockets.
“I saw you playing with that boy today,” the maid said.
Leo glanced at her. “Did Father say anything?”
“No. But I should warn you, Master Bellamy, the Potentate won’t be happy if he finds out.”
“Then he won’t find out. He lets Daniel play here, doesn’t he? What harm is one more kid?”
The maid lowered her eyes. “You and your brother are aristocrats, little Master. But a watch mechanic’s son, playing with the heir to the City… Surely, you understand my meaning.”
Leo kept silent. He did understand, but alongside her words ran his own father’s. Where we come from means nothing. It’s how we live that means everything.
When he was ready, he thanked the maid, and then headed onto the landing. It wasn’t long before August appeared, dressed practically identical to him. They shared a nervous glance, walked down the sweeping staircase, and joined their parents in the parlour.
Their mother, Lady Bellamy, was swamped by all manner of frills and layers, her hair pinned into elaborate curls and adored with paper flowers. The smell of her perfume flew up Leo’s nose. It was even stronger than the wig powder.
He held a hand to his mouth and coughed.
“They won’t be long now,” his father muttered, checking his pocket watch.
“Good,” August whispered to Leo. “I’m starving.”
Leo nodded in agreement. The aroma of roast meat was drifting through from the kitchen. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was.
Far above, the Tower chimed. It was muffled by the thick walls of the manor, but Leo still heard it. He could have been at the lowest Level in Forest, and he would never escape that sound.
A flurry of activity suddenly filled the foyer. The family followed it, and waited, arranged like a portrait, as the door was opened. Leo straightened his spine, as though a rod had been forced down the back of his jacket. That was the correct way to stand, his mother insisted.
Daniel stepped inside. He was still wearing a wig, but both it and his clothes were more elaborate now, edged in ribbons of Carter red. Behind him walked his father: an imposing broad-shouldered man, with green eyes as sharp as flint, and a mouth which seemed pinched into a perpetual, yet humourless, smile. A black mourning band encircled his arm, held in place with a filigree pin.
Without needing to be told, Leo and August bowed.
“Welcome, Sir,” their father said. “And welcome to you as well, Master Carter.”
“Thank you,” the Potentate replied. He kissed Lady Bellamy’s hand, then shook Lord Bellamy’s. The ruby rings on their fingers glinted in the lamplight.
Daniel looked more sullen than earlier, as though he had been berated just before the door opened. Leo watched him, hoping he would catch his attention, but Daniel kept his eyes fixed on his father.
“What’s the matter?” August whispered, without moving his lips.
Leo shook his head. The Potentate had probably found out about Malcolm, and scolded Daniel. And Leo knew he wasn’t as forgiving as their own father. Several times, Daniel had been caned so harshly, it left him barely able to sit.
Leo continued watching him as they made their way to the dining room. Daniel took his seat at the table without a wince. So he hadn’t been struck. But there was definitely something wrong.
“How are preparations for your birthday, Sir?” Lord Bellamy asked.
“Oh, they’re coming along,” the Potentate replied. “I trust you and Lady Bellamy are still attending?”
“Of course.”
“Very good. It will be wonderful to celebrate with friends. And without a lunafauna in sight.”
Lord Bellamy dabbed his lips with a napkin. “Lady Feline hasn’t been extended an invite?”
“Any gathering without her is a relief,” the Potentate replied, a hint of vitriol in his voice. “Especially this time. I won’t have her anywhere near me.”
“Has she done something to offend you?”
“Her entire manner offends me. But I refuse to look at her, the creature which can’t die, at my first birthday without High Lady Alice.”
A sombreness fell over the room like a cold mist. Earlier that year, the Potentate’s wife had wasted away as consumption ravaged her body. Despite the best efforts of the doctors and alchemists to save her, it hadn’t been enough. And when she died, she had taken her unborn child with her.
“Of course,” Lady Bellamy said softly. “I’m so sorry. How are you coping?”
“As well as can be expected,” the Potentate replied. “But I’m sure we will be able to move forward in due course. In some manner.”
He glanced at his ring.
Daniel squirmed, but didn’t say anything. Leo quickly took a sip from his water glass. The wig wasn’t the only thing making him uncomfortable now.
But then, to his relief, the Potentate cleared his throat. Like scissors slicing through a piece of ruined material, the subject changed; the pressure in the air vanished. They would not speak about the High Lady any longer.
“Well, soon, all our boys will be old enough to attend such gatherings,” the Potentate said, in a much lighter tone. “Leopold, you’re twelve, aren’t you? The same age as Daniel?”
“Yes, Sir,” Leo said.
“And what of your other son, Lord Bellamy?”
“August is ten.”
“Hm. Tall for his age,” the Potentate said. His smile didn’t drop for a moment. “Time does fly, doesn’t it?”
Suddenly, the lights flickered. Everyone paused. The gears groaned, then the bulbs failed, plunging the room into darkness. But, after only a few seconds, they returned to normal, albeit a little dimmer.
Lady Bellamy groaned. “I do apologise. We’ve been having terrible trouble with our mechanisms lately. Jeremy, you need to call Godwin again.”
“I’ve already had him out twice this week,” Lord Bellamy replied curtly.
“It’s not just your mechanisms, Lady Bellamy,” said the Potentate. “A number of areas across the top three Levels have been suffering the same. It’s a little more widespread — at the moment, at least. Nothing we can’t rectify in due course.”
“So you’re aware of what’s causing it?”
“Yes. Please don’t worry. I know it’s an inconvenience, but I won’t allow it to become anything worse.”
The conversation faded as the soup course was brought out. Leo sat straight, trying to ignore the cough which tried to burst from his chest with every exhale. He threw all his concentration onto the spoon: the way it shone; the vine motif engraved along its length. Like all things in Forest, it was mimicking the nature which could never grow.
Then Leo heard a soft clinking sound, and looked at Daniel again. He had started on the soup too, but his hand was shaking.
He put down the spoon.
“Please excuse me,” he muttered, and slid his chair back.
August leaned forward, as though to follow, but Leo reached under the table and caught his wrist. Then he returned to his soup, but kept glancing at the clock. One minute passed; two; three. Still, Daniel didn’t return.
Finally, the cough swelled. Leo snatched his napkin and held it over his mouth. August threw him a worried glance, but didn’t say anything.
Leo lowered the napkin, and froze. A small smear of blood dotted the white linen.
He forgot to breathe. That had never happened before. No matter how awful the cough, or how tired he had felt…
He slipped the napkin inside his jacket, then got to his feet, gesturing for August to stay.
“I won’t be a moment,” he said.
He felt the adults’ eyes on him, but he walked quickly, before his parents could stop him. The footmen shut the door behind him, and Leo stood alone in the foyer, the moulded ceilings arching above him like an artificial sky.
He dragged a long, shuddering breath into his lungs. Even now, he could taste the blood.
He headed towards the washroom on the other side of the staircase, and knocked.
“Daniel? Are you in there?”
There was a shuffling noise, then Daniel opened the door. His cheeks were red, his eyes bloodshot. The shine of tears lined the side of his nose.
Without a word, Leo pulled him out of earshot of the footmen. The blood could be investigated later.
“What’s the matter?” Leo asked. “Did your father cane you when you went home?”
“No,” Daniel sniffled. “It’s… I don’t even know how to tell you. There’s not enough time.”
“It’s fine. We can go back inside in a minute.”
“I don’t mean like that.”
Leo frowned. He had never heard Daniel sound so despondent. It was as though all the joy had leached out of him, like rain through earth.
“Was it talking about your mother?” Leo asked.
Daniel pressed his lips together, to keep his tears under control.
“Yes. And… my sibling, as well. Leo, I’m so scared! There’s always been at least two Carter children. There has to be. I don’t know what’s going to happen now, and I can’t ever get away from it! It will always be there!”
“What will?” Leo pressed, trying to keep the alarm out of his voice.
Daniel shook his head and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… Forget I said anything.”
Leo hesitated. It was strange to see Daniel cry. He was always so stoic, always trying to emulate his father. Leo knew everyone cried, but it was something done when nobody was looking. Even he stopped himself from crying in front of August. He had to be the big brother, who wasn’t afraid of anything.
But it hurt him to see his friend in such distress, so he did the only thing he could think of. He put his arms around Daniel, and hugged him.
Daniel stayed as stiff as a mannequin. Leo wondered when he had last been embraced — not just by his father, but by anyone.
“It will be fine,” he said.
“It won’t.”
“It will. Are you scared of being Potentate? I’m scared of becoming Lord Bellamy. When they do, it means my Papa will be dead. But that’s not going to happen for a long time.”
Daniel pulled away. “I always thought it would be a long time before my mother died, too. Now it’s just me and Father. And…”
The lights flickered again. Daniel looked up at them, and Leo saw true fear in his face.
“Don’t worry about that,” Leo insisted. “You heard them saying it was nothing. It’s under control.”
Daniel swallowed, so hard, his collar moved.
“But think about it,” Leo insisted. “When you’re Potentate, you’ll be able to do so much good. More than what your father has done with you. When you have kids, you’ll be good at it. There won’t be anyone above you.”
Daniel’s cheeks turned pale. “Please don’t say that.”
Leo frowned. “Why?”
“Master Bellamy? Master Carter?”
A shudder ran up Leo’s spine. He held a finger to his lips, then stepped out from behind the staircase. One of the footmen was standing there, brows lowered in concern.
“Forgive me,” he said, “but Lord Bellamy is asking after you.”
“Were you listening to us?” Leo asked warily.
“Not at all, little Master. But I’d advise against staying out here for much longer.”
Daniel heaved a sigh, and followed Leo. His face was so composed, it was as though he had slipped a mask over his face. Aside from the puffiness around his eyes, there was no trace of his tears at all.
“Are you alright?” Leo whispered.
He knew the answer was no, but Daniel only nodded, stiffly, like a puppet.
“I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
*
Thin autumn sunlight streamed into the garden. The petals of the metal flowers spun when a breeze caught them. Some, connected to clockwork chimes, sent a soft tinkling song into the air.
Leo heard it as though it were a hundred miles away. He was tired — more tired than he had ever felt before — but he was determined to not let it show. There were more important things, like making sure Daniel and Malcolm and August were having fun. He could always sleep later.
He planted his hands on Malcolm’s shoulders, and pushed. The swing soared higher, the chains creaking.
“Come on, more!” Malcolm laughed.
August ran to Leo’s side, to help. “It will be better with two of us!”
“Be careful,” Daniel warned.
Leo fought the urge to roll his eyes. A fortnight had passed since the dinner, and Daniel was still as nervous as ever. Multiple times, Leo had asked him what the matter was, but Daniel refused to speak a single word. He hadn’t even been able to muster his frostiness when Malcolm returned. He just stood back, watching Leo and August, with reservation pinching his lips.
Malcolm suddenly swung so high, the chains fell slack. He barely managed to hold on as he plummeted back towards the ground.
“Alright, stop,” he said shakily.
“What did I tell you?” Daniel muttered.
August turned around. “Why are you acting so odd?”
“August,” Leo whispered.
Daniel didn’t look at them. “I just have a lot on my mind right now.”
“Stop it, both of you,” Leo said firmly. “Come on, let’s play something else.”
“Like what?” August pouted. “Daniel never wants to play anymore.”
“Fine,” Leo said. “If he wants to just sit and watch, then let him. It’s no trouble.”
He said it as gently as he could, but he still noticed tears shining in Daniel’s eyes.
A dart of frustration pierced Leo’s chest. Why was it suddenly so difficult for them to all get along? It was like a bad smell, growing and growing every time they met.
“Why don’t we tell a story?” Malcolm volunteered. “We can all do that.”
Relief washed over Leo. A story would involve sitting. He loved being with his friends, but the last thing he wanted to do was run around. His limbs felt thin and cold; more like extensions of him rather than actual body parts. He was so tired.
He climbed onto the base of an ornamental statue, finding a seat between its carved feet. August perched beside him, and Malcolm remained on the swing, twisting the chains around themselves until he spun. Daniel glanced between the three of them, then settled on a bench near the wall.
“Alright, what do you want to tell?” he asked, despondently.
Malcolm placed his toes onto the ground to still the swing. His eyes roved around, looking for inspiration. Then the Tower struck the hour, and a smile spread over his face.
“The Timekeeper.”
Daniel froze. But Malcolm just spread his hands and lowered his voice dramatically, like the storytellers who plied their trade in squares on market day.
“Once, a long time ago,” he said, “the Keeper sat in the top of the Tower, and he looked down on the City…”
“Stop,” Daniel snapped. It was so forceful, so desperate, that Leo couldn’t help staring. Never mind Daniel’s weeping at dinner; he never sounded like this.
“I want to go home,” he said suddenly.
“Why?” August asked.
Malcolm moved backwards on the swing, as though anticipating a blow.
“I meant no harm in it,” he said nervously.
“That’s what I mean!” Daniel cried. “You don’t know what you mean!”
Leo leapt to his feet, held out a hand to keep August behind him, and approached Daniel.
“What is the matter?” he hissed. “We’re your friends! We’re only trying to have fun!”
“I’m not in the mood,” Daniel snapped.
“Then why did you come? If you don’t want to be around Malcolm—”
“It’s not that!”
“What is it, then? We’ll help you, but why won’t you tell us what’s going on? Friends don’t keep secrets!”
“I can’t!” Daniel shouted. “Father doesn’t… He doesn’t want…”
“He doesn’t want you to go outside the Pavilion?” August guessed.
Malcolm fiddled with his shirt hem. “If it’s something I did—”
“No, it’s not,” Daniel said. “I mean—”
“You’re no fun anymore!” August spat.
Daniel looked as though he had been slapped.
Leo pushed himself between them. But before he could speak, a cough tore through him. He doubled over; tasted blood. He tried to swallow it, so the others wouldn’t see, but it splattered over his lips, and then his knees hit the ground.
August and Malcolm cried his name, but it was distant, as though his head was underwater. He felt so cold; so tired…
He heard footsteps: large and heavy. An adult. One of the valets — he could tell by the blue trim on the sleeves — held a hand to his forehead. Then arms appeared underneath him as he was lifted up.
“I’m fine,” Leo protested.
“Begging your pardon, little Master, but you’re not,” the valet replied. “I’ll fetch your father.”
“No, don’t. I’m just tired…”
Leo’s words tumbled over each other in his mouth. Realising there was no point in arguing, he held onto the valet as they entered the parlour, and he was set down in a chair.
Within minutes, Lord Bellamy was at Leo’s side.
“What happened?” he demanded.
“We were only playing,” August said, his voice shrill with anxiety. “What’s wrong with him?”
Leo didn’t resist as his father wiped his face. There was no hiding this now. And perhaps, if he kept quiet, the adults would finish their fussing all the quicker, and he could go to sleep.
“Summon a doctor,” Lord Bellamy ordered.
“I’m fine,” Leo groaned.
Nobody answered him. August, Malcolm and Daniel watched from the doorway, their faces pale with shock.
Leo closed his eyes. Had this chair always been so comfortable? Even its perfumed cushions seemed inviting, and those had always made him sneeze, almost as much as the wig powder. He could sleep right here.
He barely felt as though he had drawn a breath, however, when he was lifted again, and then laid down. He recognised his bed from touch rather than sight. Opening his eyes demanded too much. All the energy had flooded out of him.
Someone took his pulse and opened his mouth. First, they checked his spittle, then slid a thermometer under his tongue.
He squinted. A matronly woman was standing over him, clad in the white coat of a medic.
“He must go to hospital,” she said.
Leo’s heart jolted. He tried to sit up, but his father pushed him back down.
“This hasn’t happened overnight, My Lord,” the doctor continued. “Master Bellamy, how long have you felt ill?”
“A few weeks,” Leo replied. “I thought it was just a cold.”
“And what of the blood?”
“Not long.”
“Tell the truth,” Lord Bellamy said firmly. “You’re not in trouble, but we need to know.”
Leo swallowed. He could still taste it, sticking to his teeth.
“I first saw it at the dinner, with the Potentate,” he said.
His father’s eyes widened in alarm. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I thought it would go away on its own.”
“No, not this,” the doctor said. “You need specialist care, or else it will only get worse. And there’s the risk that it could be passed on to other members of the household.”
Leo gasped. “August?”
“I’ll check your brother while I’m here, Master Bellamy,” the doctor assured.
“So it’s not a cold?”
“No. It’s consumption.”
Fear dropped through Leo’s stomach like a stone.
“But he’ll recover,” Lord Bellamy said anxiously. “He’s a strong boy.”
“As I said,” the medic replied, “we must get him to hospital. At once.”
Panic simmered in Leo’s blood like water in a kettle. Faces swam into each other as he struggled to keep his eyes open. His father herded August out of the room, whilst his mother and the valet stripped him out of his clothes. They slid a nightshirt over his head and laid him down. Cold cloths were pressed onto his chest. He coughed again, and felt blood on his lip.
His mother whimpered. Leo tried to reassure her, yet again, that he was fine, but the words died before he could speak them.
Sweat ran over his face, and exhaustion dug its claws into him. He fought with all his might, but still drifted in and out of consciousness.
He felt cool air on his cheeks; heard the rattle of a carriage, then the rumble of strange voices. The perfume smell vanished into the sharp notes of turpentine, stabbing at his nose like needles. The sheets under his back were scratchier than before. Cheap cotton, washed in even cheaper soap.
He forced his eyes as wide open as he could. His bed was gone. Instead, he was lying in a private hospital room, blankets drawn up to his chin.
Someone moved nearby. Leo let his head roll to the side, and looked into Lord Bellamy’s eyes. His wig was missing, but that wasn’t what startled Leo. A cloth mask was wrapped around the lower part of his father’s face.
“How are you feeling?” Lord Bellamy asked.
Leo let out a shuddering breath. “W-where am I?”
“Bentham Hospital, in the Fourth West. They’re keeping you in isolation.”
“When did I get here?”
Lord Bellamy’s brows shot down. “You don’t remember?”
“Sort of,” Leo muttered.
“Yesterday. Do you remember falling in the garden?”
“That was yesterday? Where’s August? Daniel?”
“August is at home, with your mother,” said Lord Bellamy. “Daniel went back to the Pavilion.”
“What about Malcolm?” Leo asked.
“Who?”
“You know… Godwin. The watchmaker’s son. He was playing with us.”
Lord Bellamy let out a sharp sigh. “Home as well, I suppose. Don’t worry about him, Leo. You’re more important right now. You must save your strength.”
He perched on the side of the bed and wiped Leo’s forehead with a cloth. His ring shone red, like an unblinking eye.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” he hissed. “We could have gotten you help sooner! Do you realise how dangerous this is?”
Leo groaned. “I know. I’m sorry. I thought I was doing a good thing.”
Lord Bellamy’s lip trembled. “No matter what good, the greater good must always come first. And your health is that greater good. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Papa,” Leo whispered.
“Promise me you’ll fight,” his father said, unable to keep the terror out of his voice. “Please, my boy, you must. Fight harder than you ever have before.”
Leo nodded, but already, he could feel his energy draining again. And beneath it ran the same current of fear as before.
Consumption. The slow, pallid, insidious death. It had killed High Lady Alice; killed practically everyone it touched.
He knew he had to hold on. But how was he supposed to do that, when nobody knew when the point of no return was crossed?
The Tower clock struck the hour. The lights flickered, and Leo closed his eyes.
Leo heard it as though it were a hundred miles away. He was tired — more tired than he had ever felt before — but he was determined to not let it show. There were more important things, like making sure Daniel and Malcolm and August were having fun. He could always sleep later.
He planted his hands on Malcolm’s shoulders, and pushed. The swing soared higher, the chains creaking.
“Come on, more!” Malcolm laughed.
August ran to Leo’s side, to help. “It will be better with two of us!”
“Be careful,” Daniel warned.
Leo fought the urge to roll his eyes. A fortnight had passed since the dinner, and Daniel was still as nervous as ever. Multiple times, Leo had asked him what the matter was, but Daniel refused to speak a single word. He hadn’t even been able to muster his frostiness when Malcolm returned. He just stood back, watching Leo and August, with reservation pinching his lips.
Malcolm suddenly swung so high, the chains fell slack. He barely managed to hold on as he plummeted back towards the ground.
“Alright, stop,” he said shakily.
“What did I tell you?” Daniel muttered.
August turned around. “Why are you acting so odd?”
“August,” Leo whispered.
Daniel didn’t look at them. “I just have a lot on my mind right now.”
“Stop it, both of you,” Leo said firmly. “Come on, let’s play something else.”
“Like what?” August pouted. “Daniel never wants to play anymore.”
“Fine,” Leo said. “If he wants to just sit and watch, then let him. It’s no trouble.”
He said it as gently as he could, but he still noticed tears shining in Daniel’s eyes.
A dart of frustration pierced Leo’s chest. Why was it suddenly so difficult for them to all get along? It was like a bad smell, growing and growing every time they met.
“Why don’t we tell a story?” Malcolm volunteered. “We can all do that.”
Relief washed over Leo. A story would involve sitting. He loved being with his friends, but the last thing he wanted to do was run around. His limbs felt thin and cold; more like extensions of him rather than actual body parts. He was so tired.
He climbed onto the base of an ornamental statue, finding a seat between its carved feet. August perched beside him, and Malcolm remained on the swing, twisting the chains around themselves until he spun. Daniel glanced between the three of them, then settled on a bench near the wall.
“Alright, what do you want to tell?” he asked, despondently.
Malcolm placed his toes onto the ground to still the swing. His eyes roved around, looking for inspiration. Then the Tower struck the hour, and a smile spread over his face.
“The Timekeeper.”
Daniel froze. But Malcolm just spread his hands and lowered his voice dramatically, like the storytellers who plied their trade in squares on market day.
“Once, a long time ago,” he said, “the Keeper sat in the top of the Tower, and he looked down on the City…”
“Stop,” Daniel snapped. It was so forceful, so desperate, that Leo couldn’t help staring. Never mind Daniel’s weeping at dinner; he never sounded like this.
“I want to go home,” he said suddenly.
“Why?” August asked.
Malcolm moved backwards on the swing, as though anticipating a blow.
“I meant no harm in it,” he said nervously.
“That’s what I mean!” Daniel cried. “You don’t know what you mean!”
Leo leapt to his feet, held out a hand to keep August behind him, and approached Daniel.
“What is the matter?” he hissed. “We’re your friends! We’re only trying to have fun!”
“I’m not in the mood,” Daniel snapped.
“Then why did you come? If you don’t want to be around Malcolm—”
“It’s not that!”
“What is it, then? We’ll help you, but why won’t you tell us what’s going on? Friends don’t keep secrets!”
“I can’t!” Daniel shouted. “Father doesn’t… He doesn’t want…”
“He doesn’t want you to go outside the Pavilion?” August guessed.
Malcolm fiddled with his shirt hem. “If it’s something I did—”
“No, it’s not,” Daniel said. “I mean—”
“You’re no fun anymore!” August spat.
Daniel looked as though he had been slapped.
Leo pushed himself between them. But before he could speak, a cough tore through him. He doubled over; tasted blood. He tried to swallow it, so the others wouldn’t see, but it splattered over his lips, and then his knees hit the ground.
August and Malcolm cried his name, but it was distant, as though his head was underwater. He felt so cold; so tired…
He heard footsteps: large and heavy. An adult. One of the valets — he could tell by the blue trim on the sleeves — held a hand to his forehead. Then arms appeared underneath him as he was lifted up.
“I’m fine,” Leo protested.
“Begging your pardon, little Master, but you’re not,” the valet replied. “I’ll fetch your father.”
“No, don’t. I’m just tired…”
Leo’s words tumbled over each other in his mouth. Realising there was no point in arguing, he held onto the valet as they entered the parlour, and he was set down in a chair.
Within minutes, Lord Bellamy was at Leo’s side.
“What happened?” he demanded.
“We were only playing,” August said, his voice shrill with anxiety. “What’s wrong with him?”
Leo didn’t resist as his father wiped his face. There was no hiding this now. And perhaps, if he kept quiet, the adults would finish their fussing all the quicker, and he could go to sleep.
“Summon a doctor,” Lord Bellamy ordered.
“I’m fine,” Leo groaned.
Nobody answered him. August, Malcolm and Daniel watched from the doorway, their faces pale with shock.
Leo closed his eyes. Had this chair always been so comfortable? Even its perfumed cushions seemed inviting, and those had always made him sneeze, almost as much as the wig powder. He could sleep right here.
He barely felt as though he had drawn a breath, however, when he was lifted again, and then laid down. He recognised his bed from touch rather than sight. Opening his eyes demanded too much. All the energy had flooded out of him.
Someone took his pulse and opened his mouth. First, they checked his spittle, then slid a thermometer under his tongue.
He squinted. A matronly woman was standing over him, clad in the white coat of a medic.
“He must go to hospital,” she said.
Leo’s heart jolted. He tried to sit up, but his father pushed him back down.
“This hasn’t happened overnight, My Lord,” the doctor continued. “Master Bellamy, how long have you felt ill?”
“A few weeks,” Leo replied. “I thought it was just a cold.”
“And what of the blood?”
“Not long.”
“Tell the truth,” Lord Bellamy said firmly. “You’re not in trouble, but we need to know.”
Leo swallowed. He could still taste it, sticking to his teeth.
“I first saw it at the dinner, with the Potentate,” he said.
His father’s eyes widened in alarm. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I thought it would go away on its own.”
“No, not this,” the doctor said. “You need specialist care, or else it will only get worse. And there’s the risk that it could be passed on to other members of the household.”
Leo gasped. “August?”
“I’ll check your brother while I’m here, Master Bellamy,” the doctor assured.
“So it’s not a cold?”
“No. It’s consumption.”
Fear dropped through Leo’s stomach like a stone.
“But he’ll recover,” Lord Bellamy said anxiously. “He’s a strong boy.”
“As I said,” the medic replied, “we must get him to hospital. At once.”
Panic simmered in Leo’s blood like water in a kettle. Faces swam into each other as he struggled to keep his eyes open. His father herded August out of the room, whilst his mother and the valet stripped him out of his clothes. They slid a nightshirt over his head and laid him down. Cold cloths were pressed onto his chest. He coughed again, and felt blood on his lip.
His mother whimpered. Leo tried to reassure her, yet again, that he was fine, but the words died before he could speak them.
Sweat ran over his face, and exhaustion dug its claws into him. He fought with all his might, but still drifted in and out of consciousness.
He felt cool air on his cheeks; heard the rattle of a carriage, then the rumble of strange voices. The perfume smell vanished into the sharp notes of turpentine, stabbing at his nose like needles. The sheets under his back were scratchier than before. Cheap cotton, washed in even cheaper soap.
He forced his eyes as wide open as he could. His bed was gone. Instead, he was lying in a private hospital room, blankets drawn up to his chin.
Someone moved nearby. Leo let his head roll to the side, and looked into Lord Bellamy’s eyes. His wig was missing, but that wasn’t what startled Leo. A cloth mask was wrapped around the lower part of his father’s face.
“How are you feeling?” Lord Bellamy asked.
Leo let out a shuddering breath. “W-where am I?”
“Bentham Hospital, in the Fourth West. They’re keeping you in isolation.”
“When did I get here?”
Lord Bellamy’s brows shot down. “You don’t remember?”
“Sort of,” Leo muttered.
“Yesterday. Do you remember falling in the garden?”
“That was yesterday? Where’s August? Daniel?”
“August is at home, with your mother,” said Lord Bellamy. “Daniel went back to the Pavilion.”
“What about Malcolm?” Leo asked.
“Who?”
“You know… Godwin. The watchmaker’s son. He was playing with us.”
Lord Bellamy let out a sharp sigh. “Home as well, I suppose. Don’t worry about him, Leo. You’re more important right now. You must save your strength.”
He perched on the side of the bed and wiped Leo’s forehead with a cloth. His ring shone red, like an unblinking eye.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” he hissed. “We could have gotten you help sooner! Do you realise how dangerous this is?”
Leo groaned. “I know. I’m sorry. I thought I was doing a good thing.”
Lord Bellamy’s lip trembled. “No matter what good, the greater good must always come first. And your health is that greater good. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Papa,” Leo whispered.
“Promise me you’ll fight,” his father said, unable to keep the terror out of his voice. “Please, my boy, you must. Fight harder than you ever have before.”
Leo nodded, but already, he could feel his energy draining again. And beneath it ran the same current of fear as before.
Consumption. The slow, pallid, insidious death. It had killed High Lady Alice; killed practically everyone it touched.
He knew he had to hold on. But how was he supposed to do that, when nobody knew when the point of no return was crossed?
The Tower clock struck the hour. The lights flickered, and Leo closed his eyes.
*
Time swept into itself. Leo slept more than he could ever remember, and whenever he awoke, he was wracked with pain. Cold compress followed cold compress. He coughed up more blood, struggling to breathe. Even lifting his arm was a battle. He tried to eat, but his stomach flipped at the very thought, and weight fell off him by the day.
“Fight,” he whispered to himself, whenever he could. “Fight…”
His father visited every evening, always wearing a mask and gloves. Leo understood why — consumption was notoriously contagious — but it still made his heart sink. For as long as he was in here, and the disease was within him, he was a risk to their everyone else. Nobody even touched him if they could help it, as though doing so would make them drop to the floor.
After several days, his mother and August came. Tears filled Lady Bellamy’s eyes as she hovered behind her husband. Even with most of her face covered, Leo could see her nerves.
“I just want to hug you, my darling,” she cried.
August glanced between them, and went to walk forward, but Lord Bellamy grabbed his shoulder.
“No, don’t.”
“Is he going to be alright?” August asked, quietly, his voice muffled by the mask.
“Of course he is,” Lord Bellamy replied. “He promised. Didn’t you, Leo?”
Leo didn’t answer; didn’t even nod. He was too tired.
When he next opened his eyes, his family had left, but Malcolm was standing there. He was wearing a mask too, and a medic waited in the doorway. Leo frowned. His family hadn’t needed supervision when they visited him.
“What are you doing here?” he rasped.
Malcolm threw a glance at the medic. “I wanted to check on you. They didn’t believe me when I said I knew you.”
Leo let out a shaky breath, and waved a hand.
“I do know him,” he said to the medic. “Malcolm Godwin is his name.”
The medic gave a disapproving sniff. “Regardless, I’ll remain here, Master Bellamy.”
Leo rolled his eyes. “What do you think he’s going to do? I thought I was the dangerous one.”
“But he’s—”
“He’s my friend. Leave us alone.”
For a moment, Leo thought the medic might ignore him again, but then her shoulders sagged in defeat. She stepped out of the room, and left the door ajar. Leo knew she was still listening, but he didn’t bother trying to shout at her. He wanted to save what little energy he had for Malcolm.
“How did you know I was here?” he whispered.
“August told me,” Malcolm replied. “My father was called back to the manor a few days ago. The lights are still flickering.”
Leo sighed. “The Potentate said it was something bigger. They have it under control.”
“Well, we’ve fixed what we can,” Malcolm said. He took a tentative step closer, but still kept his distance. “Who’s they?”
“I don’t know,” Leo muttered. “The Potentate and… well, the Keeper, I suppose.”
“I thought the Keeper’s job was to run everything smoothly. Not cut the power.”
“He must get tired, too.”
Leo tried to push himself higher on the pillows, but it demanded too much. He ground his teeth in frustration. Fight, his father had said. But even that simple word felt as though it was losing meaning. Even breathing was difficult now.
He felt a cough swelling, and covered his mouth. Blood splattered his palm.
Malcolm’s eyes widened. He fetched a handkerchief from the nightstand and wiped Leo’s chin.
“Thanks,” Leo said. “Don’t. Go over there.”
“You don’t scare me,” Malcolm insisted.
Leo threw a glance at the door. If August or his parents had approached like this, the medic would have run inside and bundled them away. But not Malcolm. He didn’t have an aristocratic bone in his body. To them, it wouldn’t matter if the consumption struck him down.
“Go over there,” Leo snapped, as firmly as he could.
Malcolm pursed his lips, but still did as he was told, and began fiddling with his shirt hem.
“Listen,” Leo breathed, “I’m grateful you came, but it’s not safe. You should go.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be fine. I’m in the best place. They know what they’re doing.”
“But… Leo, I’ve seen this before. My Ma had it. It’s…”
“I’ll be fine,” Leo insisted, slower, so he could listen to the words, just as much as Malcolm. He needed to hear them, so they might convince him, too. But they didn’t. And he could tell Malcolm didn’t believe it, either.
“Have you heard from Daniel?” he asked instead, desperate to change the subject.
Malcolm squirmed. “No. I haven’t seen him since that day in the garden. Hasn’t he been here?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry if I did anything to—”
“You didn’t. He’s been acting strange for a while. It’s nothing to do with you.”
Malcolm cast his eyes down. “He’s ashamed to be around me. I can tell. I’m not like you.”
“You’re a kid. That means you’re like us,” Leo said. “Just wait until I get out of here. I’ll talk to him.”
A soft silence fell over the two of them, and Leo’s own words echoed in his ears. When I get out of here.
It was a ghost of a hope. He knew it, and so did Malcolm. But if it was all he had, then he would cling to it.
“I’ll let you rest,” Malcolm said quietly. “Can I come back and see you again?”
“Of course,” Leo sighed. “But keep your distance. I don’t want anyone else getting sick.”
Malcolm nodded. “Alright. I… hope Daniel does come to see you.”
Leo closed his eyes. “I hope he comes to see you, too.”
He listened as Malcolm’s footsteps faded away. The door shut with a gentle click, and then he was alone.
He tried to claw his way back to the surface; to force his eyes open, but it was like moving a mountain. Every inhale burned his lungs. Sweat beaded his forehead, until his hair clung to his skin. His ribs felt as though they were a single cough away from falling apart — and yet, with each cough, they held, just burning with more and more pain.
He gripped the sheets at his sides. Fight. But he didn’t know what he was fighting anymore. He couldn’t separate himself from the sickness. It had crept up on him like a mist, and now it had him, working through his bones, refusing to let go.
He thought of August; the horrified look on his little brother’s face. He had to see him again, and Malcolm, and Daniel…
They came back, one by one. The medics shook their heads. August held Leo’s hand, and then, later, Malcolm. They didn’t pay any attention to the warnings. Knowledge wrote itself across their faces, as heavy and terrible as a storm in December.
Leo tried to squeeze their fingers, but they were too far away, and he was so cold…
“Here.”
Leo frowned. The voice was quiet, but nearby. It sounded familiar.
He inched his eyes open. The room was dark, and two figures stood over him: one large, one small; well-dressed; wigs on their heads. Even now, Leo could smell the powder.
“W-who is that?” he rasped.
“It’s me,” said the small figure.
Those two words were all Leo needed. Daniel. And the one next to him could only be the Potentate.
Confusion fogged Leo’s brain. What was he doing here? And in the middle of the night?
Far above, the Tower struck twelve. Potentate Carter leaned closer and pushed two fingers into Leo’s neck, taking his pulse.
“Good,” he said. “It’s still strong enough.”
“What?” Leo breathed.
“Father, please,” Daniel whimpered. “He’s my friend.”
“And if things had gone according to plan, it would have been your sibling,” the Potentate said. “Just be glad it’s not you.”
Daniel fell silent. Leo couldn’t see his face, but he heard him sniffling, as though preparing for a blow.
The Potentate brushed Leo’s hair aside. The red ring dragged against his skin.
“Don’t be afraid, Leopold. You have a greater purpose to serve. You’re going to save Daniel’s life tonight. It’s a small procedure, completely painless. You’ll be well again. And you’ll never have to grow up.”
Leo frowned. He tried to twist in the bed, to get a better look at Daniel. Did he have consumption too? Was that why he had stayed away, not visiting? But if he did, and he needed saving, why was he still able to stand?
“I don’t under—”
The Potentate laid a finger over Leo’s lips, then turned to the doorway.
“Take him.”
More figures slipped into the room. They were all dressed like medics and doctors, but they moved unlike anyone Leo had ever seen. Every action was precise, as though it had been rehearsed day after day, and even in the darkness, a cold focus shone in their eyes.
Panic shot into Leo’s veins. Whoever these people were, they were not doctors.
The Potentate steered Daniel from the room. Leo opened his mouth to scream, but a scrap of material was shoved between his lips and bound in place. The men lifted him off the bed, and laid him down again, on something hard and cold. Leather straps bit into his ankles and wrists. Two more were lashed across his chest and thighs, until he was completely immobilised. Finally, a white sheet was drawn over him, and he was wheeled away.
He tried to cry out, but only the tiniest squeak reached his throat. Even moving a finger was a struggle. He was trapped within his own body: a cage of flesh and bone.
What was going on? Where were they taking him? Why was Daniel with them?
He tried to keep track of where he was, but beneath the sheet, it was useless. He saw only the faint lights of wall sconces, glowing from the other side of the fabric. Then, even they disappeared, and cold air shocked his lungs. He coughed; felt blood soaking through the gag.
He couldn’t stay down like this. He would choke…
He stopped moving. He felt the slab being unhitched from its wheeled frame, and a door slammed shut. Before he could even get his bearings, the world started shaking.
He was in a carriage. Over the roaring panic in his ears, he could just make out the click of the mechanism at the front.
He drew as deep a breath as he could, and shouted into the gag.
“Let me go! Help!”
“Be quiet!” one of the men barked.
More blood crept up Leo’s throat. He wriggled, but the straps were too strong. Even if he wasn’t ill, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to break free.
The carriage tilted as it moved higher up the City. Leo counted two ascensions — that meant they were at the Second Level: the closest anyone could come to the Potentate’s Pavilion at the summit. What was he doing here?
The door swung open, and the sheet was pulled back as the men unbuckled the straps. Before Leo could move, one of them bundled him over his shoulder, and covered him again.
“Keep him hidden!” another hissed.
Something heavy scraped along the street, like a manhole cover. Leo heard a scramble as the men climbed down into it, and then he was passed between them like a sack of potatoes, until he lost all sense of direction. Blood filled his mouth as he coughed. If they carried on like this, they would kill him…
The air changed. It smelled stale, as though he was in a place which had never known a breeze. Then another voice reached Leo’s ears: cool, clipped, dripping with intelligence.
“You had no trouble, then? Were you followed?”
“Of course we weren’t. Not a trace,” one of the men snapped.
A shiver ran down Leo’s spine. He had suspected as such, but now he was certain: nobody knew where he was. Nobody had told his parents anything. As far as his family were concerned, he was still lying in the hospital bed, fighting for his life.
What would they be told tomorrow? That he had died in the night? That he was already in a coffin?
They would never know what had happened.
He struggled again, and the man slapped the backs of his thighs, so hard, Leo screamed.
“Open the bloody door, Paley!”
“Keep your volume down,” the cool voice snapped. “The Potentate’s waiting for us at the top.”
Leo twisted his head in alarm. At the top of where? They couldn’t go any higher than this.
A door opened, then closed, and Paley paused for just long enough to lock it. Then Leo heard a great ticking sound, like a million clocks all grinding together. He started moving up a staircase, and all around came a dull whooshing, as something huge swept through the air.
A pendulum. Leo would recognise that momentum anywhere, even if he couldn’t see it. And for it to be a pendulum that large; to be climbing this high…
He was inside the Tower.
With every step, the ticking grew louder, until he could barely hear himself think. Then he was jostled again, held upright by the arms, and the sheet was whipped off him.
Leo struggled to keep his balance. The ticking was everywhere. It was drilling into his head; reverberating through his body.
Shock rooted him to the spot. All around him were mechanisms: cogs, escapements, mainsprings; all locked together into one giant dance. Some of the gears were large enough to fill his entire bedroom at the manor; each tooth the size of his head. They sprawled across the ceiling, pierced here and there by metal staircases which led up into the labyrinth. On each wall sat an enormous glass clock face, the space beyond blackened by night.
Nausea swept through Leo’s stomach. It pressed on him from all sides, as though the air was being slowly sucked out of the chamber.
Suddenly, the Potentate stepped into view. Daniel trailed behind him, on the verge of tears, his face crumbled with discomfort. Could he feel the strange pressure too?
“Later than I’d planned, but never mind,” the Potentate said. “Take that out of his mouth, Paley. Look at the state of it.”
At once, Paley stepped forward. His appearance matched his voice perfectly: a tall, wiry man in his forties, though his hooked nose made him look much older. He untied the gag, but held it under Leo’s chin, to catch the blood which had built up on his tongue.
“Apologies, Leopold,” the Potentate said. “You must know I never intended for this to be you. I was actually hoping to procure somebody from the lower Levels, who wouldn’t be missed. But one mustn’t pass up an opportunity, and you and Daniel are practically like siblings, aren’t you?”
“I d-don’t understand!” Leo coughed. “Let me go…”
“I can’t do that,” the Potentate replied. “I told you. You need to save Daniel. You see, there have always been two Carter children. Always. One to rule the City, and one to run the City. If my wife — and by extension, my second child — had survived, we wouldn’t have anything to worry about. But without them, there’s only Daniel as the sole Carter heir, so he must be Potentate. And another must take the second’s place.”
Leo’s hair stood on end as the Potentate approached. His cold green eyes shone in a way they never had before, and Leo hadn’t failed to notice the pistol in his hand.
“A-are you going to shoot me?” he gasped.
“Of course not,” the Potentate said gently, stroking a finger down Leo’s cheek. “I don’t like to shoot anybody. That’s not my job. This is just for insurance, you see.”
Leo shook his head. He didn’t see. Not at all.
“This is for the best,” the Potentate continued. “Consumption has already killed Daniel’s intended second. I won’t let it kill you. The Bellamy family will carry on through your brother. But the Carter one will be gone if Daniel remains up here. And I don’t need to tell you how terrible that would be, do I, Leopold? Forest without a Potentate is just as terrible as Forest without a Timekeeper. One to rule, and one to run. He will rule, and you will run.”
“Father, please…” Daniel cried.
“Please, what?” the Potentate snapped. “Do you want to stay in here?”
“N-no… but—”
“Then there’s nothing more to say. Paley, fetch my brother.”
Paley hurried into the mechanisms, donning a pair of leather gloves in mid-stride. Leo frantically turned his eyes on Daniel. He covered his face with his hands, weeping so hard, his entire body shook.
After a few long moments, Paley returned, clutching a boy in his hands. He pushed him forward and retreated to a corner, bent double as though he had been punched. At once, the pressure intensified; Leo thought his body might come apart under the strain. It was something unnatural, pulling at him, trying to tear him to pieces…
The boy looked up. And, weak as Leo was, he screamed.
There was no way of saying where boy ended and machine began. His face was that of a child, but his pallid skin was falling off like wax from an old candle. Beneath the flesh were all manner of gears; pistons took the place of tendons; two gears spun around his irises. And yet, those eyes were Daniel’s eyes. There was no trace of green there, but the shape was exactly the same.
Realisation slammed into Leo like a hammer through glass. This was the Timekeeper. Half human, half automaton; as much a part of the mechanism and the Tower and the entire City, as he was living and breathing
Even the men holding Leo staggered in alarm. They obviously hadn’t been expecting this, either. Indeed, the only ones who didn’t react were Paley, the Potentate, and Daniel.
“Y-you knew about this?” Leo hissed. “This was… what you wouldn’t tell us?”
“I couldn’t,” Daniel muttered. “I’m sorry…”
The Keeper looked around at them. His eyes moved first, followed by his head.
“You subvert your family’s traditions, Alastair Carter,” the Keeper said.
Leo shuddered. That voice twisted his mind like a hook. It sounded so wrong.
“You know why I must,” the Potentate replied. “You can see everything, so you know there is no other way. And you will do this.”
The Keeper regarded Leo with an unreadable expression.
“I would contest it,” he said, “if there was time.”
“Exactly,” the Potentate hissed. “There is no time. If we leave this for much longer, everything will shut down. And isn’t this the best option?”
“There are only options. None are better or worse, in the end.”
“Enough. I’ve heard all this too often. Pass yourself on, now.”
Leo’s panic swelled. This was why he had been taken. To become the new Keeper.
He struggled harder than he ever had; harder than he thought he could. Still, the men refused to let him go. One snatched his hair and bent his head back, so viciously, his neck cracked.
“No!” he screamed. “No! Papa! Papa!”
The Potentate clicked his fingers.
“Hold him down and bare his chest. Keep him still.”
The men forced Leo onto the floor. Two pinned his arms, while the third ripped open the front of his nightshirt before restraining his legs.
The Keeper limped closer, one foot dragging behind him. With every movement, he clicked and groaned. A small trail of cogs tumbled out of an open hole in his calf.
Leo shrieked until blood filled his mouth.
“Don’t!” he cried. “No, please let me go! Daniel! Help me! Please!”
Daniel whirled away, but the Potentate took his shoulders.
“No,” he said firmly. “You need to see this. You need to know.”
“I do know! I don’t want to—”
“Watch. Or I will hold your head and make you.”
The Keeper knelt beside Leo. He went to twist away, but the men clutched him too firmly.
“Please…” he whimpered. “No, please…”
“All is as it should be,” the Keeper said. “You will understand, Leopold Bellamy.”
He raised a hand, and brought it down on Leo’s chest.
Leo’s scream enveloped him. His head flew backwards, his body straining, all his limbs shaking. White light seared his eyes. His ribs were on fire; his heart turned inside out.
His captors were no longer there. He wasn’t even in the Tower anymore. He was falling, spinning; surrounded by stars and threads and his own pounding pulse. Time lost its meaning. There was no time, and yet there was only time, in infinite forms, beginning and ceasing all at once.
Something snapped inside him. The Keeper let out a strangled gasp, then tumbled over with a heavy clang.
“August…” Leo breathed.
He tried to move, but his consciousness was slipping into the void. There was no coming back. Whatever had just happened had been the end of everything.
The last things he heard were Daniel’s weeping, and the Potentate’s voice.
“As I said, for insurance.”
Three gunshots sounded. Leo smelled the powder, then the blood, as the men fell down dead.
“Fight,” he whispered to himself, whenever he could. “Fight…”
His father visited every evening, always wearing a mask and gloves. Leo understood why — consumption was notoriously contagious — but it still made his heart sink. For as long as he was in here, and the disease was within him, he was a risk to their everyone else. Nobody even touched him if they could help it, as though doing so would make them drop to the floor.
After several days, his mother and August came. Tears filled Lady Bellamy’s eyes as she hovered behind her husband. Even with most of her face covered, Leo could see her nerves.
“I just want to hug you, my darling,” she cried.
August glanced between them, and went to walk forward, but Lord Bellamy grabbed his shoulder.
“No, don’t.”
“Is he going to be alright?” August asked, quietly, his voice muffled by the mask.
“Of course he is,” Lord Bellamy replied. “He promised. Didn’t you, Leo?”
Leo didn’t answer; didn’t even nod. He was too tired.
When he next opened his eyes, his family had left, but Malcolm was standing there. He was wearing a mask too, and a medic waited in the doorway. Leo frowned. His family hadn’t needed supervision when they visited him.
“What are you doing here?” he rasped.
Malcolm threw a glance at the medic. “I wanted to check on you. They didn’t believe me when I said I knew you.”
Leo let out a shaky breath, and waved a hand.
“I do know him,” he said to the medic. “Malcolm Godwin is his name.”
The medic gave a disapproving sniff. “Regardless, I’ll remain here, Master Bellamy.”
Leo rolled his eyes. “What do you think he’s going to do? I thought I was the dangerous one.”
“But he’s—”
“He’s my friend. Leave us alone.”
For a moment, Leo thought the medic might ignore him again, but then her shoulders sagged in defeat. She stepped out of the room, and left the door ajar. Leo knew she was still listening, but he didn’t bother trying to shout at her. He wanted to save what little energy he had for Malcolm.
“How did you know I was here?” he whispered.
“August told me,” Malcolm replied. “My father was called back to the manor a few days ago. The lights are still flickering.”
Leo sighed. “The Potentate said it was something bigger. They have it under control.”
“Well, we’ve fixed what we can,” Malcolm said. He took a tentative step closer, but still kept his distance. “Who’s they?”
“I don’t know,” Leo muttered. “The Potentate and… well, the Keeper, I suppose.”
“I thought the Keeper’s job was to run everything smoothly. Not cut the power.”
“He must get tired, too.”
Leo tried to push himself higher on the pillows, but it demanded too much. He ground his teeth in frustration. Fight, his father had said. But even that simple word felt as though it was losing meaning. Even breathing was difficult now.
He felt a cough swelling, and covered his mouth. Blood splattered his palm.
Malcolm’s eyes widened. He fetched a handkerchief from the nightstand and wiped Leo’s chin.
“Thanks,” Leo said. “Don’t. Go over there.”
“You don’t scare me,” Malcolm insisted.
Leo threw a glance at the door. If August or his parents had approached like this, the medic would have run inside and bundled them away. But not Malcolm. He didn’t have an aristocratic bone in his body. To them, it wouldn’t matter if the consumption struck him down.
“Go over there,” Leo snapped, as firmly as he could.
Malcolm pursed his lips, but still did as he was told, and began fiddling with his shirt hem.
“Listen,” Leo breathed, “I’m grateful you came, but it’s not safe. You should go.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be fine. I’m in the best place. They know what they’re doing.”
“But… Leo, I’ve seen this before. My Ma had it. It’s…”
“I’ll be fine,” Leo insisted, slower, so he could listen to the words, just as much as Malcolm. He needed to hear them, so they might convince him, too. But they didn’t. And he could tell Malcolm didn’t believe it, either.
“Have you heard from Daniel?” he asked instead, desperate to change the subject.
Malcolm squirmed. “No. I haven’t seen him since that day in the garden. Hasn’t he been here?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry if I did anything to—”
“You didn’t. He’s been acting strange for a while. It’s nothing to do with you.”
Malcolm cast his eyes down. “He’s ashamed to be around me. I can tell. I’m not like you.”
“You’re a kid. That means you’re like us,” Leo said. “Just wait until I get out of here. I’ll talk to him.”
A soft silence fell over the two of them, and Leo’s own words echoed in his ears. When I get out of here.
It was a ghost of a hope. He knew it, and so did Malcolm. But if it was all he had, then he would cling to it.
“I’ll let you rest,” Malcolm said quietly. “Can I come back and see you again?”
“Of course,” Leo sighed. “But keep your distance. I don’t want anyone else getting sick.”
Malcolm nodded. “Alright. I… hope Daniel does come to see you.”
Leo closed his eyes. “I hope he comes to see you, too.”
He listened as Malcolm’s footsteps faded away. The door shut with a gentle click, and then he was alone.
He tried to claw his way back to the surface; to force his eyes open, but it was like moving a mountain. Every inhale burned his lungs. Sweat beaded his forehead, until his hair clung to his skin. His ribs felt as though they were a single cough away from falling apart — and yet, with each cough, they held, just burning with more and more pain.
He gripped the sheets at his sides. Fight. But he didn’t know what he was fighting anymore. He couldn’t separate himself from the sickness. It had crept up on him like a mist, and now it had him, working through his bones, refusing to let go.
He thought of August; the horrified look on his little brother’s face. He had to see him again, and Malcolm, and Daniel…
They came back, one by one. The medics shook their heads. August held Leo’s hand, and then, later, Malcolm. They didn’t pay any attention to the warnings. Knowledge wrote itself across their faces, as heavy and terrible as a storm in December.
Leo tried to squeeze their fingers, but they were too far away, and he was so cold…
“Here.”
Leo frowned. The voice was quiet, but nearby. It sounded familiar.
He inched his eyes open. The room was dark, and two figures stood over him: one large, one small; well-dressed; wigs on their heads. Even now, Leo could smell the powder.
“W-who is that?” he rasped.
“It’s me,” said the small figure.
Those two words were all Leo needed. Daniel. And the one next to him could only be the Potentate.
Confusion fogged Leo’s brain. What was he doing here? And in the middle of the night?
Far above, the Tower struck twelve. Potentate Carter leaned closer and pushed two fingers into Leo’s neck, taking his pulse.
“Good,” he said. “It’s still strong enough.”
“What?” Leo breathed.
“Father, please,” Daniel whimpered. “He’s my friend.”
“And if things had gone according to plan, it would have been your sibling,” the Potentate said. “Just be glad it’s not you.”
Daniel fell silent. Leo couldn’t see his face, but he heard him sniffling, as though preparing for a blow.
The Potentate brushed Leo’s hair aside. The red ring dragged against his skin.
“Don’t be afraid, Leopold. You have a greater purpose to serve. You’re going to save Daniel’s life tonight. It’s a small procedure, completely painless. You’ll be well again. And you’ll never have to grow up.”
Leo frowned. He tried to twist in the bed, to get a better look at Daniel. Did he have consumption too? Was that why he had stayed away, not visiting? But if he did, and he needed saving, why was he still able to stand?
“I don’t under—”
The Potentate laid a finger over Leo’s lips, then turned to the doorway.
“Take him.”
More figures slipped into the room. They were all dressed like medics and doctors, but they moved unlike anyone Leo had ever seen. Every action was precise, as though it had been rehearsed day after day, and even in the darkness, a cold focus shone in their eyes.
Panic shot into Leo’s veins. Whoever these people were, they were not doctors.
The Potentate steered Daniel from the room. Leo opened his mouth to scream, but a scrap of material was shoved between his lips and bound in place. The men lifted him off the bed, and laid him down again, on something hard and cold. Leather straps bit into his ankles and wrists. Two more were lashed across his chest and thighs, until he was completely immobilised. Finally, a white sheet was drawn over him, and he was wheeled away.
He tried to cry out, but only the tiniest squeak reached his throat. Even moving a finger was a struggle. He was trapped within his own body: a cage of flesh and bone.
What was going on? Where were they taking him? Why was Daniel with them?
He tried to keep track of where he was, but beneath the sheet, it was useless. He saw only the faint lights of wall sconces, glowing from the other side of the fabric. Then, even they disappeared, and cold air shocked his lungs. He coughed; felt blood soaking through the gag.
He couldn’t stay down like this. He would choke…
He stopped moving. He felt the slab being unhitched from its wheeled frame, and a door slammed shut. Before he could even get his bearings, the world started shaking.
He was in a carriage. Over the roaring panic in his ears, he could just make out the click of the mechanism at the front.
He drew as deep a breath as he could, and shouted into the gag.
“Let me go! Help!”
“Be quiet!” one of the men barked.
More blood crept up Leo’s throat. He wriggled, but the straps were too strong. Even if he wasn’t ill, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to break free.
The carriage tilted as it moved higher up the City. Leo counted two ascensions — that meant they were at the Second Level: the closest anyone could come to the Potentate’s Pavilion at the summit. What was he doing here?
The door swung open, and the sheet was pulled back as the men unbuckled the straps. Before Leo could move, one of them bundled him over his shoulder, and covered him again.
“Keep him hidden!” another hissed.
Something heavy scraped along the street, like a manhole cover. Leo heard a scramble as the men climbed down into it, and then he was passed between them like a sack of potatoes, until he lost all sense of direction. Blood filled his mouth as he coughed. If they carried on like this, they would kill him…
The air changed. It smelled stale, as though he was in a place which had never known a breeze. Then another voice reached Leo’s ears: cool, clipped, dripping with intelligence.
“You had no trouble, then? Were you followed?”
“Of course we weren’t. Not a trace,” one of the men snapped.
A shiver ran down Leo’s spine. He had suspected as such, but now he was certain: nobody knew where he was. Nobody had told his parents anything. As far as his family were concerned, he was still lying in the hospital bed, fighting for his life.
What would they be told tomorrow? That he had died in the night? That he was already in a coffin?
They would never know what had happened.
He struggled again, and the man slapped the backs of his thighs, so hard, Leo screamed.
“Open the bloody door, Paley!”
“Keep your volume down,” the cool voice snapped. “The Potentate’s waiting for us at the top.”
Leo twisted his head in alarm. At the top of where? They couldn’t go any higher than this.
A door opened, then closed, and Paley paused for just long enough to lock it. Then Leo heard a great ticking sound, like a million clocks all grinding together. He started moving up a staircase, and all around came a dull whooshing, as something huge swept through the air.
A pendulum. Leo would recognise that momentum anywhere, even if he couldn’t see it. And for it to be a pendulum that large; to be climbing this high…
He was inside the Tower.
With every step, the ticking grew louder, until he could barely hear himself think. Then he was jostled again, held upright by the arms, and the sheet was whipped off him.
Leo struggled to keep his balance. The ticking was everywhere. It was drilling into his head; reverberating through his body.
Shock rooted him to the spot. All around him were mechanisms: cogs, escapements, mainsprings; all locked together into one giant dance. Some of the gears were large enough to fill his entire bedroom at the manor; each tooth the size of his head. They sprawled across the ceiling, pierced here and there by metal staircases which led up into the labyrinth. On each wall sat an enormous glass clock face, the space beyond blackened by night.
Nausea swept through Leo’s stomach. It pressed on him from all sides, as though the air was being slowly sucked out of the chamber.
Suddenly, the Potentate stepped into view. Daniel trailed behind him, on the verge of tears, his face crumbled with discomfort. Could he feel the strange pressure too?
“Later than I’d planned, but never mind,” the Potentate said. “Take that out of his mouth, Paley. Look at the state of it.”
At once, Paley stepped forward. His appearance matched his voice perfectly: a tall, wiry man in his forties, though his hooked nose made him look much older. He untied the gag, but held it under Leo’s chin, to catch the blood which had built up on his tongue.
“Apologies, Leopold,” the Potentate said. “You must know I never intended for this to be you. I was actually hoping to procure somebody from the lower Levels, who wouldn’t be missed. But one mustn’t pass up an opportunity, and you and Daniel are practically like siblings, aren’t you?”
“I d-don’t understand!” Leo coughed. “Let me go…”
“I can’t do that,” the Potentate replied. “I told you. You need to save Daniel. You see, there have always been two Carter children. Always. One to rule the City, and one to run the City. If my wife — and by extension, my second child — had survived, we wouldn’t have anything to worry about. But without them, there’s only Daniel as the sole Carter heir, so he must be Potentate. And another must take the second’s place.”
Leo’s hair stood on end as the Potentate approached. His cold green eyes shone in a way they never had before, and Leo hadn’t failed to notice the pistol in his hand.
“A-are you going to shoot me?” he gasped.
“Of course not,” the Potentate said gently, stroking a finger down Leo’s cheek. “I don’t like to shoot anybody. That’s not my job. This is just for insurance, you see.”
Leo shook his head. He didn’t see. Not at all.
“This is for the best,” the Potentate continued. “Consumption has already killed Daniel’s intended second. I won’t let it kill you. The Bellamy family will carry on through your brother. But the Carter one will be gone if Daniel remains up here. And I don’t need to tell you how terrible that would be, do I, Leopold? Forest without a Potentate is just as terrible as Forest without a Timekeeper. One to rule, and one to run. He will rule, and you will run.”
“Father, please…” Daniel cried.
“Please, what?” the Potentate snapped. “Do you want to stay in here?”
“N-no… but—”
“Then there’s nothing more to say. Paley, fetch my brother.”
Paley hurried into the mechanisms, donning a pair of leather gloves in mid-stride. Leo frantically turned his eyes on Daniel. He covered his face with his hands, weeping so hard, his entire body shook.
After a few long moments, Paley returned, clutching a boy in his hands. He pushed him forward and retreated to a corner, bent double as though he had been punched. At once, the pressure intensified; Leo thought his body might come apart under the strain. It was something unnatural, pulling at him, trying to tear him to pieces…
The boy looked up. And, weak as Leo was, he screamed.
There was no way of saying where boy ended and machine began. His face was that of a child, but his pallid skin was falling off like wax from an old candle. Beneath the flesh were all manner of gears; pistons took the place of tendons; two gears spun around his irises. And yet, those eyes were Daniel’s eyes. There was no trace of green there, but the shape was exactly the same.
Realisation slammed into Leo like a hammer through glass. This was the Timekeeper. Half human, half automaton; as much a part of the mechanism and the Tower and the entire City, as he was living and breathing
Even the men holding Leo staggered in alarm. They obviously hadn’t been expecting this, either. Indeed, the only ones who didn’t react were Paley, the Potentate, and Daniel.
“Y-you knew about this?” Leo hissed. “This was… what you wouldn’t tell us?”
“I couldn’t,” Daniel muttered. “I’m sorry…”
The Keeper looked around at them. His eyes moved first, followed by his head.
“You subvert your family’s traditions, Alastair Carter,” the Keeper said.
Leo shuddered. That voice twisted his mind like a hook. It sounded so wrong.
“You know why I must,” the Potentate replied. “You can see everything, so you know there is no other way. And you will do this.”
The Keeper regarded Leo with an unreadable expression.
“I would contest it,” he said, “if there was time.”
“Exactly,” the Potentate hissed. “There is no time. If we leave this for much longer, everything will shut down. And isn’t this the best option?”
“There are only options. None are better or worse, in the end.”
“Enough. I’ve heard all this too often. Pass yourself on, now.”
Leo’s panic swelled. This was why he had been taken. To become the new Keeper.
He struggled harder than he ever had; harder than he thought he could. Still, the men refused to let him go. One snatched his hair and bent his head back, so viciously, his neck cracked.
“No!” he screamed. “No! Papa! Papa!”
The Potentate clicked his fingers.
“Hold him down and bare his chest. Keep him still.”
The men forced Leo onto the floor. Two pinned his arms, while the third ripped open the front of his nightshirt before restraining his legs.
The Keeper limped closer, one foot dragging behind him. With every movement, he clicked and groaned. A small trail of cogs tumbled out of an open hole in his calf.
Leo shrieked until blood filled his mouth.
“Don’t!” he cried. “No, please let me go! Daniel! Help me! Please!”
Daniel whirled away, but the Potentate took his shoulders.
“No,” he said firmly. “You need to see this. You need to know.”
“I do know! I don’t want to—”
“Watch. Or I will hold your head and make you.”
The Keeper knelt beside Leo. He went to twist away, but the men clutched him too firmly.
“Please…” he whimpered. “No, please…”
“All is as it should be,” the Keeper said. “You will understand, Leopold Bellamy.”
He raised a hand, and brought it down on Leo’s chest.
Leo’s scream enveloped him. His head flew backwards, his body straining, all his limbs shaking. White light seared his eyes. His ribs were on fire; his heart turned inside out.
His captors were no longer there. He wasn’t even in the Tower anymore. He was falling, spinning; surrounded by stars and threads and his own pounding pulse. Time lost its meaning. There was no time, and yet there was only time, in infinite forms, beginning and ceasing all at once.
Something snapped inside him. The Keeper let out a strangled gasp, then tumbled over with a heavy clang.
“August…” Leo breathed.
He tried to move, but his consciousness was slipping into the void. There was no coming back. Whatever had just happened had been the end of everything.
The last things he heard were Daniel’s weeping, and the Potentate’s voice.
“As I said, for insurance.”
Three gunshots sounded. Leo smelled the powder, then the blood, as the men fell down dead.