“Taking those gremlins was the stupidest idea.” Tatiana threw herself down in a riveted leather chair, one hand to her forehead.
Rivka sat in a plush chair as she eyed the contents of Tatiana’s flat. The decor was very white, very austere, elegant in a way that seemed devoid of personality—very Tamaran, really. She set her tool satchel by her feet.
“Your message said there was an emergency with the gremlins?”
“Yes! What am I supposed to do with them?”
Rivka shook her head. She should have known it would be an exaggeration. “Tatiana! I was in the middle of reassembling a cabriolet engine—”
“An engine? In your workshop on the tenth floor?”
“Yes, it’s for the steam car of another resident. I did have some funny looks when I hauled it up in the lift the other day.” Rivka made a dismissive motion and immediately realized she’d picked up the gesture from Tatiana. “I also need to complete my grammar assignment before my tutor comes later, or Grandmother will string me up like a dinner roof rat.”
“Well, I have a guest bedroom that reeks of ammonia. The gremlins stripped the bed—I mean that literally! They tore the sheets into strips and wove some kind of . . . thing. It’s awful! It’s only been a day, and they destroyed everything in there!”
“Do you want me to take them?”
Tatiana’s mouth was a tense line. “Mr. Cody knows I have the gremlins. I’ll keep them here. But what purpose does this really serve?”
“Look here.” Rivka opened her satchel and pulled out a book. “This isn’t the best of sources since it’s fairly old and only shows humans, but see?” She flipped to the first of many bookmarks. “This diagram shows how a replacement human arm is made. The skin, the metal bone, the bands for tendons . . .”
Tatiana began to fidget and frown; she simply had no stomach for the stuff.
Rivka closed the book. “I want to make replacement limbs for little gremlins and let them live full lives again.”
“You gave me grief because of my idea to ride Lump in the Arena, but how is this supposed to help? There’s a reason people cover their mechanical limbs with clothing, you know. Lump’s metal extensions make him all the more monstrous.”
Rivka stared at the book on her lap. “I thought it would make them look more sympathetic. See, Mr. Cody is a politician. He cares about what the people think. If we can change how citizens view gremlins, maybe they won’t be so thrilled to see a mecha-chimera in the Arena. Maybe it’ll be alarming rather than exciting.”
“Huh.” Tatiana sat back. “Now that’s a good idea, but do you really think it’ll be easier to change how millions of people think than to change Mr. Cody’s mind?”
“Look at your dress. How everyone here must wear the same color and style.” Rivka grimaced at her own dress. The waistless form was all the rage, and she had scarcely any curves to grant it shape. “Maybe we can make gremlins . . . well, fashionable.” She stroked the cover of her book. “Then maybe people will care that Mr. Cody is ripping apart living gremlins to make larger ones. Broderick said all of the little ones will be killed when Lump is done. Saving these three here isn’t enough.”
“All of them? But there are so many!” Tatiana’s eyes widened. “Constructing new extremities will be a lot harder than fixing that automaton at Mr. Cody’s party.”
“I know. Broderick would have to help, too. It’ll also be quite expensive. I’d need crystals.” That would mean digging into her savings intended for her lip surgery. Rivka could deal with that. Her lip was a cosmetic thing; giving gremlins new limbs meant something more, and this might just help save the whole room from that awful cart.
Plus, she’d rather handle the matter on her own than ask Grandmother for help. Not that she feared Grandmother would discourage her; quite the contrary. After two months in Tamarania, Rivka knew that dealing with Grandmother was like trying to harness a hurricane. She didn’t want to invite that complication, or the nagging, or the reminders that Rivka should lift up her chin and be proud, et cetera.
“Then there are the schematics,” Rivka continued. “Cody’s designs must be secret. With only human blueprints to go by, it’ll be a huge challenge. I’m starting from scratch on a different scale, and with wings, too.”
Tatiana stood. “Alonzo’s leg was made by a master mechanist who’s supposed to be the best in Caskentia. I met him once, but I can’t recall his name. I can thumb through letters to find out, then write him to see if he can help!”
“Do you—would he?” She thought back to Mr. Cody’s mechanist and how he treated her. A Caskentian mechanist might refuse to help for many other reasons. “While you go through letters, I’ll check on the gremlins.”
Tatiana flashed her a grin and whirled away.
“Would you like an aerated water or tea first, miss?” A servant spoke up from the doorway.
Rivka hesitated. “Water would be lovely, thank you.” She sounded so proper though she wondered if she would ever really get accustomed to being waited on.
The servant retreated. Rivka stood to fully look around the room. She gravitated toward a wooden desk stacked with texts—grammar, mathematics, biology, penmanship. A neat pile of papers contained tidy looped cursive. The sheet on top was a persuasive essay on pay raises for household staff, with arguments for and against. The subject might have been dry, but damn, Tatiana could write. She was as manipulative on paper as she was aloud. Rivka couldn’t help but be a little jealous. As much as she loved to read, she hadn’t inherited Grandmother’s skill with a pen. Tatiana could sell fire to infernal magi.
“Miss?” asked the servant.
Rivka whirled around, a guilty flush heating her cheeks as she set the sheets down. “Oh, yes. Thank you.” She accepted the water and took a long drink. Tiny bubbles fizzled against her upper lip. “Would you please take me to the gremlins?”
The servant led her to a shut door. “In there, miss. I recommend you duck inside and close the door fast.”
Rivka did just that. Cheery squawks welcomed her, and before she could turn, they were on her. Little hands and feet scampered up her legs, surmounted her breasts, and began crazy circles around her shoulders.
“Hello to you—pfft!” She spat out a hand. “You seem happy out of your cages—gah! No fingers in my mouth, you don’t need to climb my head!” She pried a hand from her ear and tried to pat her flaxen hair into place. It was bound into three braided buns in anticipation of extended hours in her workshop. Long, loose hair and fine metalwork were not a good combination.
She lowered herself to the floor and had a good look around. The mattress had been gutted, cotton fluff strewn about like a massacre. The still-curved springs had been stretched and woven with strips of blankets that created a happy riot of color. The construction was in the form of a massive teardrop, the top somehow connecting to the ceiling. A small, gremlin-sized hole was just visible on the side nearest the wall.
Meanwhile, the carpet had been untacked from the floor and bubbled up in places, as though the gremlins had burrowed beneath. Wallpaper draped in large swaths. She had a sudden sense that, given time, the gremlins could dig through the walls or ceiling. Or the sharp stink would gnaw through like acid.
She wanted to be happy that they were enjoying their newfound freedom, but as she looked around, she was at an even greater loss of how to get people to like gremlins and stand up against Mr. Cody. Tamarans wanted personal accomplishment, they wanted order. Gremlins were chaos swaddled in green skin.
She stroked down a gremlin’s knobby spine. “I bet you could all learn to dance like Lump did yesterday, but that wouldn’t win over people in the right way, either. I saw a few fellows in Mercia with trained monkeys. That’s not a life you lot need. You don’t need to be used. Mr. Cody’s done enough of that.”
The door pushed against her back as it opened a tad. “Rivka?” At Tatiana’s voice, the gremlins scrambled for the security of their nest. The room was suddenly, strangely quiet. “I found the name! Kellar Dryn, in Leffen. I have a letter ready to go! Are you almost done in there?”
With Tatiana’s writing skill, this letter of introduction might just do the trick. “Just a few more minutes.”
“I’ll send this to the lobby via the pneumatic. The clerk can mail it off today!” Tatiana shut the door.
Rivka clicked her tongue. A gremlin’s head popped through the nest’s hole, two long ears wobbling, and scampered straight to her lap. The other gremlins followed, one leaping to her shoulder, the other absolutely fascinated by the sole of her shoe.
To think, these yellow-tagged gremlins, vibrant as they were, would likely already be dead if they hadn’t come home with Tatiana. She felt a lurch of grief for the ones left behind, and for Broderick.
“Be still,” she said softly, tapping the one on her lap. The gremlin froze. Rivka examined it all over. The nubs at the wings had healed well. The surface area was small. That meant a lot of finesse in creating connectors so that the nerves and mechanism could work together. At some point, she’d need an aether magi to enchant the wings, too.
She released a frustrated huff. Hands and feet would be challenging in different ways due to joint articulation.
These were skills she could certainly learn under the best mechanists in Tamarania, with Mr. Cody as her sponsor. This mechanist in Caskentia—he was still Caskentian. What was a master there compared to a master here?
“I don’t know how we’re going to do this,” she whispered. The gremlin’s ears bobbed. “How to stop Mr. Cody from making more chimeras, from using you for parts, from killing the other hundred gremlins still in cages. And now other people are looking at Mr. Cody as an example as they make their own behemoth chimeras. If we let Lump go to the Arena—if we let things continue on this path—and I work for Mr. Cody, will I be able to do more good in the long run?”
“Rivka?” Tatiana rapped on the door. “You need to come out. Right now.”
The gremlin hopped from her lap as she stood, but the one on her shoulder remained and mewed near her ear. She gently plucked it off and nudged the third away when it tried to latch onto her skirt.
“I’m sorry. No, down. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”
They continued to cry, but they did seem to understand the meaning of “down.” That was good. She still felt the lingering tickles of their little fingers as she dove through the doorway.
She whirled around and found herself face-to-face with Grandmother. A cold anvil dropped into the pit of Rivka’s stomach.
Grandmother’s arms were crossed over her ruffled bosom. The swirl in her hair had been dyed into cheery streaks of blue and pink. “I believe we need to talk.”
Rivka nodded and followed Grandmother into the parlor. Tatiana looked calm and collected as Grandmother passed by, but when only Rivka could see, her eyes betrayed panic. Of course—Grandmother wouldn’t hesitate to write Tatiana’s mother about what she was up to. The gremlins would be an issue for sure, but if Grandmother discovered Tatiana’s intention to ride Lump . . .
“Imagine my surprise when I visited home to find you had again escaped the tethers of your workshop.” Grandmother sat with a rustle and fluff of skirts, her hands pressed just so on her lap as she looked between Rivka and Tatiana. “It seems your mischief has continued. Now do tell me, why has Miss Garret here acquired gremlins? I could hear them. More so, I could smell them.”
Rivka and Tatiana sat across from each other. Rivka stared at her lap, wondering how to even begin.
“Rivka. Child. Whatever you intend to say, raise your chin.”
That caused Rivka to jerk up her head. “Do you have any idea how much I hate it when you say that?” she snapped. “I’m not a child. I’m allowed to look down sometimes. Everyone does. It doesn’t always mean I’m hiding my face.”
Grandmother looked taken aback. “You’re right. You weren’t hiding your visage just now. Something has changed.”
“She stood up to Mr. Cody!” Tatiana said. “She certainly didn’t have her chin down then.”
“Really?” Grandmother perked up. “Do tell!”
Rivka did. She spoke of Lump, of Mr. Cody’s harvest of gremlins, of Broderick’s horrible labor beneath Miss Arfetta, of how Mr. Cody’s cruelty was inspiring even more cruelty. That she and Tatiana were seeking a way to save the laboratory gremlins.
Her one omission was Tatiana’s intention to ride Lump in the Arena bout.
“I daresay, you two are mosquitoes setting out to cause a mighty itch! My pride is boundless!” Grandmother’s eyes sparkled. “You’re right that winning over the population is the surest way to scare a politician witless. Mr. Cody, Miss Arfetta, you won’t change their minds. They’re as dense as that Warriors’ mountain in the Arena.”
Rivka’s fingers itched with need to do something. To work on diagrams, finish that engine, start on gremlin wings. She walked to the window. The view overlooked a brown-bricked building and a portion of the street below. From the fifth floor, she could barely hear the constant rumble of cabriolet wheels. The absence of horses stood out to her again.
“Grandmother, Mr. Cody said something about a campaign to save horses years ago. I’ve noticed very few horses on the streets here, and the ones I do see are in sound health compared to those in Caskentia. Why?”
“Oh! That. There was a play several years ago that became quite the sensation. It was told from the perspective of a drayman’s horse. Started with his happy years as a colt, through various owners, abuse, love, the whole woe of a working horse’s life. The original production’s technical aspect was quite a marvel as well—they constructed metal horses that performers used by wires and rods, while a chorus offstage sang the lines. No one had attempted such a spectacle from a horse’s perspective before. I tried to acquire the rights to publish the script in Caskentia. The government refused me a permit, said horses were too valuable to the war effort, and the play was near seditious. Bosh and tosh.”
At that moment, everything fit together like moving cogs in Rivka’s mind.
She whirled on her heel to face them. “That’s it! That’s how we connect with people to get to Mr. Cody. Not with a play, though. There’s no time for that. We need a book written from a gremlin’s perspective, showing exactly what they endure in his laboratory—”
“Yes! An exposé done in fiction. It would require some delicacy, because of potential matters of slander, but this would work!” Grandmother clasped her hands. “I could start on this tomorrow. It would require a quick deadline to be in print before the next bout—”
“Grandmother. No.” Rivka grinned. “Tatiana should do it.”
Tatiana looked between them. “What? Me?”
“Yes, you! You’re a brilliant writer. You know the laboratory and the chimeras.”
“I, well, this isn’t part of the plan! Me, writing a book? I can’t write a book!” Tatiana and her plans.
Grandmother looked only somewhat disappointed. “Well, Miss Garret, I haven’t read your work, but there is something to be said for intimacy with one’s narrative. Besides, it wouldn’t need to be long. Slim, pocket-sized booklets are our bestsellers here.”
“Tatiana, you have a knack for being . . . persuasive. You can make people feel how a gremlin feels.”
“You really think so? You’re sure that you don’t want to do this instead? The glory . . .”
Because Tatiana would certainly never pass on such an opportunity. Rivka shook her head.
Grandmother lifted a finger in a very regal gesture. “I would caution you against too much focus on glory. A work such as this, flirting with the reputation of a Tamaran august, requires a pseudonym—a pen name—and the utmost secrecy about the author’s identity.”
“Oh.”
Rivka tried not to smile too much. Loud chattering carried from down the hall, as if the gremlins called for her. Maybe they did. “Grandmother, for the sake of Tatiana’s household, do you think it’s possible to train gremlins to be . . . not so pesky?”
“Ah, you are speaking of a psychological endeavor! Our little gremlin Leaf on the airship was young and bright. I say start small. Build vocabulary! Come to know the creatures. Speaking of which, gremlins can work locks, did you know? I imagine your little menagerie could wander freely whenever they so desired!” Grandmother airily waved her arm, oblivious to the sudden horror painted across Tatiana’s face. “One thing Miss Leander taught me is that there is great power in simply asking. Many assume they know the answer and don’t bother with the question. Ask of these gremlins. Be a tutor.”
Tatiana beckoned the servant. “The locks on the door. We need a bolt on the outside, something that’s not silver, that can’t be lifted.”
The servant looked equally appalled at the idea of gremlins gallivanting about the household. “I’ll send Harris shopping straightaway, miss!” She rushed away.
Tatiana straightened, calm and collected again. “Speaking of asking, Mrs. Stout, I know you write to my brother and his sweetheart. About all this . . .”
“I can imagine Mr. Garret would be disconcerted to know you had any dealings with Mr. Cody. I won’t lie to him or Miss Leander, but I will not volunteer information, either. Not unless I find it necessary.” Grandmother stood, with a pointed look at Rivka. “We should be getting along. I must return to my printers. Miss Garret, I will send you a note later on my expectations on this gremlins treatise. I expect my deadlines to be met!”
“I’m up to any challenge.” Tatiana beckoned. “Rivka, I need to talk to you for a minute.”
Grandmother headed toward the door.
Tatiana stood at the window, arms folded. “You really think I can write a book?”
“Yes. Grandmother will help. Actually, she’ll probably try to help too much.”
“I just . . . I wasn’t sure why you let me . . .” Tatiana shook her head, her molded hair unmoving. She looked fragile and young, and so very unlike her normal self.
Rivka shrugged. “If I can befriend a chimera that can bite off my arm, I can be friends with you.”
Tatiana looked stricken for a moment, then they both burst out laughing. “I suppose if this goes well, I won’t get my Arena bout.” She sounded a little wistful.
“I wouldn’t say that. You might not ride Lump there, but you can still be a mecha jockey someday and only put your own neck on the line. As for your mount, well, I do happen to be a mechanist in training.”
Tatiana grabbed Rivka in a split-second hug, then held her at arm’s length. “You know, it’ll be great fun to train as a jockey for Mr. Cody, all while writing this book. He won’t suspect a thing.”
“I’m glad you’re on my side,” said Rivka, shaking her head. She wondered if Tatiana even knew that her brother Alonzo had been a Clockwork Dagger, one of the Queen’s elite spies. Perhaps Tatiana was more like her Alonzo than she realized.
Rivka rejoined Grandmother, and together they walked down the austere white passage lined with doors. Her mind leaped ahead to the work that awaited her at home and the hope of work to come. With Grandmother’s publication house putting out this book, and with Rivka already making her opinions known to Mr. Cody . . . the man would put two and two together.
He was going to assume Rivka wrote it.
That might irritate Tatiana, but it’d also keep her safer as she continued to work with him and Lump. Meanwhile, Rivka needed to dig through her scrap bins and paperwork and start sketching metal wings as they waited for word from this mechanist in Caskentia.
“You’re thinking about machines, aren’t you, child? I can tell. You’re gazing at invisible airships.”
She fidgeted with the handle of her tool satchel. “More like invisible gremlins. I need to talk to Broderick about how a medician and mechanist work through the early stages of limb assembly. Plus, I need to see if he’ll help Tatiana with details in this book.”
“Mercy upon this poor boy snared in your machinations!”
“About Broderick.” Rivka’s brows drew together in thought. “Miss Arfetta is a terrible teacher. I know Miss Percival’s academy only takes girls, but what about other medician academies for boys or men?”
“Hmm. Yes. I can make inquiries, though I didn’t think you’d aim to chuck him so soon. Even I couldn’t help but notice the man, and you’re of age—”
“I’m not interested in him like that.” Though she had a hunch that Tatiana was.
“Ah. You just want to use him for his magic.”
“Grandmother!”
“You said as much.” Grandmother pressed the button to summon a lift, her grin wicked.
“You’re putting words in my mouth.”
“If your emotions for him change, I want you to feel like you can speak with me. I know . . . it’s hard to be a girl in your time of life, to be without a mother, to endure what you did. I had my own trials, as you know.” Her voice softened, her gaze distant. “Rivka, child. I erred greatly with my son. I don’t understand my own blindness of what he became. I want . . . I want to do better by you. Always know I am here.”
Rivka blinked back sudden tears as she stared up at the number dial. Grandmother’s plump hand slipped against hers, neither looking at each other as they waited for the lift.