Clockwork Lives by Kevin J. Anderson

Author:Kevin J. Anderson
Language: ara, eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC028060
ISBN: 9781770908093
Publisher: ECW Press
Published: 2015-09-14T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13

* * *

Even though the alchemy-treated paper in her book did the work of writing out the fortune teller’s tale, the effort of simply remembering it all exhausted the ancient clockwork woman. Charlotte. The windup key on the side of the booth slowly rotated to a halt, and the fortune teller sat straight, resetting herself.

Her last words came out in a dry rattle. “I need to rest now.”

But Marinda had the woman’s story, a long tale that went on for many pages. As she read it, Marinda realized that this fortune teller with her two centuries of astonishing experiences could have filled the entire volume by herself. Once again, the truths were a burden rather than a revelation.

Marinda had been brought up to believe that the world worked in a certain way, but now she realized that many things were different from what she thought she understood. And it made her angry.

As the Magnussen Carnival Extravaganza continued in all its joyful glory around her, she glanced toward the tall tower where the Watchmaker lived, a vantage from which he could observe Chronos Square, Crown City, and all of Albion.

And now when she saw the golden statue of the ragamuffin boy positioned near where the carnival had set up, Marinda simply stared. Now she believed the Watchmaker had placed it there on purpose—knowing that Charlotte was with the carnival … knowing the old fortune teller would see it.

After everything she had just learned, as well as previously reading of her father’s experiences when he had tinkered with the Clockwork Angels, Marinda felt a glow of anger rising within her. There was much more to the loving Watchmaker than she had previously realized—and not all of it good.

That was when Marinda made up her mind: she would go to see the Watchmaker in person and find out what he had to say for himself.

v

When she returned to Chronos Square the next morning, the carnival had departed like a brief summer storm that freshened the air and then moved on. The square was empty, save for the early workers in their red coveralls using pushbrooms and buckets to erase the debris of the show.

Back in her lodgings the night before, Marinda had reread the tales of all the lives the Watchmaker had left his mark upon, and she skimmed his autobiography, which she had purchased from Underworld Books. Even though that official tome had a great many pages, it did not contain much truth, according to what she knew now… .

Near the Watchtower, she paused to study the golden statue, thinking of Beneto and the mystery of what had happened to him. Had the Watchmaker truly killed him? Given all the years that had passed, the boy would be dead now regardless, unless he had achieved some kind of divine alchemical immortality. She stared at the smooth golden face, saw the hint of roguishness, possibly a hint of fear in his expression. She vowed to find the truth—and acquire another tale at the same time.

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