Alise Read online

  The other men in the rogue guard’s unit were already interred deep in the basement for failing to report his treacherous thoughts. Ripples spread outward from the assassin, and the dead man’s actions shone a spotlight on all his fellow guards. Lady Alise demanded loyalty, and she would get it by any means at her disposal. Insurrection would be swiftly punished. How many of them would be consumed before she was satisfied?

  “Head down, eyes straight, right?” his companion said as they passed through the doorway to the staircase upward.

  “I live to serve our lady,” Ephraim mumbled as he climbed to the top.

  That day, he walked the parapets with extra care. The tingle at the base of his neck whispered trouble was coming but from which direction? On the plains, the sensation alerted him to a predator licking its lips as it eyed up their sheep or goats from behind shrubs. Anyone could be the predator here. They were all wolves in sheep’s clothing waiting for the opportunity to turn on the weakest member of the unit. Distrust kept them in line.

  Ephraim made it to the midday meal without incident. In the mess, he took his bowl of stew and hunk of bread and found a quiet spot. Let the others mutter and whisper. He wanted no part of it. Perhaps it was time to move on. He could search for his sister in the coastal region of Uisage. She could have been sold as a servant in the household of an oremancer. Yet something inside him rejected the idea and kept him chained to the parapets. The same tingling sensation said Astrid was close. Somewhere.

  Silence fell over the room as the captain walked between the narrow tables clutching a piece of paper. His mouth kept forming words as he read something to himself. He glanced up, looked at the men, and then stared at the slip again, as though he expected the words to change. After doing that several times, he heaved a sigh and cleared his throat.

  “Brass Company, today we received a new order. Lady Alise has a special project that requires your assistance. You are to gather up one hundred fit, healthy, and intelligent children. All the youngsters are to be ten years of age—no older and no younger. Our great lady requires fifty girls and fifty boys. You will be sent out into the city to collect the children and bring them back to the courtyard.”

  Men set their cutlery down and looked at each other with puzzled expressions. Murmurs turned to louder conversations as questions were voiced.

  “What does she want with children?” one brave soul asked. Perhaps he had a family of his own and wanted to either push his offspring forward or, more likely, hide them under the floorboards.

  “Our lady has not yet revealed that part of her plans,” the captain said. His fist curled around the sheet of paper. “As there are fifty of you, each man is personally responsible for collecting one boy and one girl. You will report to the courtyard first thing tomorrow morning. There you will be mustered into ten squads of five. Our lady has given you five days to complete your task. Each day, each squad will go into the city and return with one soldier’s selection of two children.”

  A chill slithered down Ephraim’s spine. Lady Alise’s surprises were rarely pleasant. Coupled with the recent assassination attempt, his gut said the children were part of her retaliation. By making each guard select two children, they became personally culpable for whatever fate befell the poor mites. Fifty of them would forever bear the stains on their souls by grabbing children off the street and serving them up to her.

  The task was, of course, another way to test their loyalty. To weed out any more insurgents like the poor sod rotting in the fountain. The men glanced at each other. Haunted eyes all thinking the exact same thing—who would stand up and say no? What man would initiate the sea change and refuse Lady Alise’s command?

  No one. They were soldiers and cowards, not heroes or starters of revolutions.

  Ephraim swallowed, but the knot of bread was dry and stuck in his gullet. He was about to add child-stealer to his list of sins.

  The rest of his shift passed in a numb vacuum. Ephraim stared at the people below and wondered which ones would have a sister or son snatched away tomorrow. At the end of his shift, he trudged back to his tiny square home and changed clothes. Tonight, he would meet the others at the Clockwork Sow and he needed their quiet counsel. He tugged the sleeves of his worn greatcoat up his arms and wrapped the warm wool around his body. He opened a locked box, extracted a few coins, and shoved them deep into a pocket.

  Then he marched into the descending chill. As he walked the crowded street, he scanned the faces he passed, as always hoping to discover his sister. He found Indi on her usual corner with Myra and a few other girls. She smiled as he took her hand and kissed her chilled knuckles.

  “Do you have to work tonight?” He was fortunate his job gave him one solid, if uninspired, meal per day. He had little coin to spare, but he gladly shared it with Indigo.

  Once she had saved him, now he laboured to save her. He scanned her face for signs that she’d wasted coin on Sunshine, not that he could begrudge her. They all sought escape in one form or another.

  There were dark smudges under her eyes, but the whites were clearer and the blue spider veins had retreated. She hadn’t used the narcotic today. She leaned in close to him. “I’m only talking with the ladies tonight. I have a sewing commission and I need to get back to work before the light fades.”

  He pulled her close and rested his cheek on the top of her head. “You have a real talent, Indi. One day, you will make gowns for the richest people in Mecha City, and they will clamour for your garments.”

  She wrapped her arms around his middle and hugged him. “Only if I have the money to open a shop. Until then, I do what I can to survive.”

  He kissed her forehead. They all did what they could to survive. “Don’t be out too long. You might catch a chill.”

  He left the women chatting on the corner and headed for the Clockwork Sow. The dim interior still carried the sombre mood of a funeral. Since he was first to arrive, Ephraim ordered a beer and took the drink to a booth in a corner.

  Thaddeus arrived next and sat opposite him. His obsidian skin almost vanished into the long shadows. He leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

  “Tough day?” Ephraim asked as he sipped his drink.

  The large man could have been a carved statue. Only his lips moved as he spoke. “There was a big power drain in one sector two nights ago. We spent all day trying to find it.”

  Thaddeus worked far beneath the castle in the rooms that housed all the mechanics. He was one of the team responsible for ensuring Lady Alise’s lights stayed on and her wine was chilled to the perfect temperature.

  Mechanics was a mysterious subject to Ephraim. As far as he was concerned, Thaddeus wielded a type of magic that cogs and gears did as he commanded. “Perhaps our lady had all the lights blazing late as she devised her latest edict.”

  Thaddeus opened his eyes and leaned forward. He fixed Ephraim with a pale, eerie stare. “What edict?”

  At that moment, Ira zoomed across the floor and stopped at their table. Thaddeus scooped him up and placed him on the wooden bench next to him.

  “What did I miss?” he asked as he looked from Thaddeus to Ephraim.

  “My unit was given a new job today.” Ephraim glanced around. There was no one seated close to them, and he waited for the waitress to move away before continuing. “We are to find our lady one hundred healthy children.”

  Thaddeus narrowed his eyes and ground his jaw so hard his next word was barely audible: “Children?”

  Ira blew a low whistle. “What do you think she wants with them, Ephraim?”

  He stared at his drink. “Nothing good.”

  The three men drank in silence. What could you say when Lady Alise demanded a hundred children?

  They parted company with muttered words and sidelong glances. Each of them caught in their own nightmare as they wondered what their lady planned to do with children. But none of them wanted the answer.

  Indigo was gone when Ephraim walked past her corner. He hoped she was in her room working on her sewing, and not in a dark alley with her back pressed to the cold bricks. Not that he would ever judge her for using her assets to earn coin. It broke his heart years ago, when after one night together, she had left him to work at the Orchid Garden. She had sold her body to the brothel, while he sold his soul to guard Lady Alise.

  He wished he could sweep her away to a better life. He no longer had his own dream, but he had one for Indi. He needed enough coin for her to open a shop. Somewhere where sunlight streamed in through windows and exotic fabrics spilled over workbenches.

  But another image edged into his dream—the sad faces of ghost children.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered to the crying faces made of mist and smoke. If he couldn’t save one child years ago, what hope did he have to save a hundred now?

  5

  DAY 1

  The next morning as Ephraim dressed, he pondered the appeal of Sunshine. The drug made the intolerable, tolerable. Could he poison his veins and grin like an idiot as he snatched away someone’s child? How easy it would be to let his brain bask in artificial warmth and false happiness as he destroyed a family.

  No. He wouldn’t mask his actions behind the drug. He might be a coward, but the one honest thing he could do was be stone-cold sober as he followed his commands. His amber eyes stared back at him as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror bracing his hands on the sink. They were not the eyes of a man who would take a stand for what was right, but the eyes of a man racked by fear and self-doubt. He was so afraid, at times he bordered on soiling himself.

  Afraid of what would happen to him if he disobeyed the command.

  Afraid of the pain Lady Alise could inflict on his body.

  Afraid to do anything except follow orders.

  His hands shook as he buttoned his jacket and picked up his rifle. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he walked down the stairs, trying to bring the tremors under control. The line at the tunnel entrance moved slower today. More than one man fumbled his code and the red light flashed. The speaker next to the panel hissed at each error.

  At least he wasn’t the only one dreading today’s task. Tomorrow would be even worse. Apart from Thaddeus, Ira, and the other guards, no one in the city knew about Lady Alise’s latest request. Once they roamed the streets and began snatching children, however, word would spread through the city like wildfire. Each day, their job would become harder as citizens moved to stop them. No one would believe the lady’s intentions were honourable. She would hardly want a hundred children as guests at a massive party.

  The only question was—why did she want the children? What words could Ephraim offer as cold comfort when he tore a child from their mother’s grasp?

  His mind whispered to him all the rumours he had heard from ten years of living in the city. Some said that Lady Alise created the wasting disease so there were crippled children for her oremancers to experiment on. Others muttered she hunted mermaids in order to consume their hearts. Another said she kept a woman with no limbs in a cage as a songbird. There was one reoccurring theme in every rumour about their lady—the screams of tortured citizens were the sweetest music to her ears.

  The line under the tunnel shuffled forward, and it was Ephraim’s turn to punch his identification number. His hand shook as his finger poised over each button. He blinked and squinted as he laboriously entered the sequence. He was determined to at least get this part of the day right. The green light flashed, and he was buzzed through the gate. It might have taken him three times as long as usual, but to his surprise, he got the code right on the first attempt.

  Never had the tunnel seemed so long or desolate. Today the air was frigid, and his breath frosted over his lips. At the other end of the tunnel, the guards gathered in the weak morning light. They shuffled from foot to foot with slumped shoulders. Nerves made them all fidget, and their wool uniforms itched more than usual. No one wanted to be there.

  They stood in near silence for fifteen minutes before the captain finally appeared and strode across the courtyard. He held a sheet of paper away from his body, as though it carried a contaminant. He halted before them and cleared his throat. “You have all been sorted into a squad for the week. Each man is responsible for ensuring the other members of his squad do their duty for our lady.”

  In an objective way, Ephraim admired Lady Alise’s cunning. They were all rats on a sinking ship, and none of them were allowed to swim to freedom. Instead, they’d chew each other to death to claim the right to cling to the highest point as they all drowned. Anyone who wavered in his duty would end up as the entertainment at the next banquet, probably having his skin flayed from his body while Lady Alise nibbled on canapés.

  “First squad.” Without looking up at any of the assembled men, the captain started calling out numbers. The guards arranged themselves into ten groups of five as batches of identifiers were read out. After he read each group of numbers, the captain paused to allow men to break away before moving on to the next set.

  Ephraim’s number was among the second batch of five, and he moved to join his new companions in misery. The men glanced at each other and nodded. They knew each other from years of walking the ramparts, but friendship was not encouraged. He didn’t even know their names; each man was identified by his number only.

  A culture of fear and suspicion held sway within the ranks of the castle guards. You never knew who had your back and who was sizing it up for dagger placement. Ephraim learned early on to keep his own counsel. Seven years ago, as a new recruit, he spoke up about the treatment of beggars huddled against the wall. One of the guards reported his words, and that earned Ephraim a week lashed to a post outside the main gate.

  He had been treated as a living doorbell and forced to holler when anyone threw a rock at him. The beggars held up sacks around him to block the rocks thrown at him and shared what little food they had with him. Indigo had snuck down every night to pour cool water down his parched throat and tend his wounds.

  At the end of seven days when he was cut down, the captain had asked if he had learned his lesson. Yes, he said, he had learned his lesson. Never trust the men around you. He would keep his thoughts firmly within the confines of his own head. Never speak up where others might overhear.

  He dropped the second lens over his eyes and let amber infuse the courtyard. Before too long, all the soldiers were divided into ten groups of five. Still no one spoke. Only the occasional cough or sneeze broke the quiet of the morning.

  The captain folded the paper and tucked it into his jacket pocket. “Each squad has been allocated a different segment of the city to search, and you are responsible for bringing two children back each day that meet the Lady Alise’s criteria. One boy and one girl, both ten years of age, fit, healthy, and of sound mind. You will return with them by the end of each day. We have a special place for them to stay until they are all assembled.”

  Rail lines ran through the courtyard and disappeared through twenty-foot high gates. As the captain finished talking, the gates swung open. A gleaming ebony engine chugged into the space towing two long cars. The carriages were black metal with no windows. Only a single door in each allowed entry or exit. The train with its ominous carriages stopped before the castle steps. Steam blew from beneath its wheels.

  Train of death, Ephraim thought as the shadow slunk into the courtyard and halted. But what was its ultimate destination?

  His gut supplied an answer. Duo Uisage and the oremancers. What would the wizards do with a hundred healthy children? Or worse, what couldn’t they do with that many children?

  A voice penetrated his skull and pulled him back to proceedings.

  “Each squad has the use of an ORV to scout for their candidates. You are due back here by seventeen hundred hours.” With that, the captain turned on his heel and stalked towards the wall.

  ORVs were off-rail vehicles. Within the city, ORVs were used by guards and merchants to move through the streets. Larger rail lines ran into Mecha City from each province to move people and goods back and forth. Overhead were the smaller tram lines with the comfortable cars for the middle and upper classes to commute from their luxury homes to the city and castle. The poorer citizens walked. There at least was the benefit of being a Castor—they had wheels and could speed along the paved streets or up the sides of buildings.

  Ephraim swallowed and wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers. He couldn’t do this. The other four men in his squad were walking towards the main gate, but he couldn’t make his feet work. He remembered the day, ten years ago, when a shadow swooped over the flock he guarded, and his sister’s laughter was cut off by the man who grabbed her from behind.

  “Come on,” one guard said before stopping to stare at Ephraim. “Or are you refusing your orders?”

  The words echoed around the courtyard. Many eyes turned to stare at Ephraim. Sweat trickled down the back of his jacket despite the chill morning. Was he going to refuse and make a stand for the boy out there in the city about to lose his younger sister? He glanced at the fountain with the grisly ornament stuck to the unicorn. Making a stand hadn’t ended well for that poor bastard.

  The tattoo at the base of his throat burned reminding him of his lack of backbone. He didn’t protect his own sister—how could he defend fifty innocent girls?

  “Coming,” he muttered and fell into line. Easier to comply.

  They were assigned the northeast quadrant of the city and their ORV waited for them, its nose pointed towards the main gate. They were squat vehicles roughly rectangular in shape with a rounded nose that protruded at the front. Three wheels on either side were contained within heavy tracks that could go up and over any obstacle. Only the very front had a window that curved around the sides, so the driver could see where he was going. A large door in the back of its armoured skeleton was the only entry point. Behind the driver’s and co-driver’s seats sat a cage welded to the middle of the floor normally used to transport criminals or those who disrupted Alise’s quiet order.