The zombie straightened. Its eyes cleared, and it slowly wiped the drool from its chin with a sore-encrusted hand. Alice lowered the spider gauntlet with a sigh. She’d lost count of the number of people she’d cured now, but the relief and satisfaction she felt for each case never lessened. This was seventh or eighth plague zombie she’d cured tonight, and she was feeling a little light-headed now.
Behind her, Gavin played his fiddle, something sweet and soft, and she drank the music in as the zombie shuffled off into the shadows of Kiev. Berlin had been difficult without Gavin, more than she wanted to admit. She drew strength from every note he played, and Feng was no substitute, even when he played Gavin’s music with the little nightingale.
“My father taught me that song,” Gavin said. “I’m sure he did.”
“Hm,” Feng said. “How can you miss a man you barely remember?”
“I just do.” Gavin sounded testy. “You wouldn’t know what it’s like. You had a father all your life. You got to live with him, work with him, see him every day.”
“And live with his disapproval,” Feng added. “Maybe it’s better not to have a father. Then you have no one to disappoint. Perhaps you should think of that.”
“Now, look—”
“Boys,” Alice said tiredly, “I know we’re all nervous, but I’m not up for mediating an argument. I would prefer to move on now.”
Gavin looked away. “Sorry.”
“Now where?” Feng asked in a subdued voice.
“It doesn’t really matter,” Alice replied, and tried to make herself sound more cheerful. “You know, it’s rather nice to walk about and not worry about being followed by Phipps.”
“Phipps, no,” Gavin fretted, “but Kievite clockworkers are another story. Remember what Harry said—they can take anyone they like off the streets after dark. Every time I play, it draws attention.”
“That’s the entire point,” Alice said, trying not to show she was uneasy, too. “How will people find out the ‘angels’ are in town if they don’t hear your music in the dark? Besides, you’re armed.”
“Hm.” Gavin touched the glass cutlass at his belt and fingered the heavy, brass-adorned bands that encircled both his forearms.
Feng checked the pair of pistols at his own belt, a hard look on his handsome face. “We do not know for sure that Phipps has failed to follow. She will eventually notice that we twice appeared in the same city as the circus.”
Alice clutched the amber-handled parasol Gavin had given her and stole a reflexive glance down the street, as if Phipps—or a clockworker—might leap out of the smoking sewers to carry them off. Then she admonished herself for being silly. It was well after midnight, and the gritty street was empty of pedestrians, if brightly lit. This latter aspect had taken Alice by surprise. By day, Kiev looked dark and moody, ready to pounce on newcomers. But at night, the city gleamed with lights. Every street and byway was hung with them, and many doors and windows shone with a steady, unwavering glow. Alice actually found it more unnerving than beautiful. Light should flicker and pulse and live, not remain steady and dead as a granite statue. She wondered whether it existed to ward zombies off the main streets, or to let prowling clockworkers see better.
“Even if Phipps does make that connection,” Alice said, “it’ll take her a few days to track us down, and we’ll be leaving soon. How much money do we have?”
“Not as much as I would like.” Gavin took off his cap for a moment and rumpled his hair. “People didn’t donate much in Berlin. Dodd owes us some more for automaton repairs, and he won’t pay us until the circus has done a couple more shows here. But yeah—once we get that money, we should be able to buy enough paraffin oil to make a run for Peking. Ahead of Phipps.”
“Proschennia mene,” said a quiet voice. A young woman in a head cloth had emerged from one of the nearby houses and now edged uncertainly toward the trio, ready to run at the first sign of danger.
“That’s you, Feng,” Gavin said.
“I have nothing else to do,” Feng muttered half under his breath. “Nowhere else to go.”
Before Alice could say anything in response to this remark, Feng greeted the girl in careful Ukrainian and spoke with her at some length. Alice was glad Feng, someone she trusted, spoke a certain amount of Ukrainian—China watched the Ukrainian Empire carefully and many diplomatic families learned at least some of the language—but Feng’s behavior was different of late.
“The rumors have reached Kiev,” he reported, “just as Harry said. Lilya here heard Gavin playing, and she has braved the clockwork night to ask if Alice can cure the plague.”
“Lead on,” Alice said.
“Lady mine.”
“Feng,” Gavin said, “is something wrong?”
“No,” he said shortly. “Please, let us merely come along.”
Alice exchanged a glance with Gavin. He had noticed it, too—the closer they got to China, the more shuttered and surly Feng became. They needed to discuss this, but now was clearly not the time. In the tiny, low-ceilinged flat where Lilya lived, Alice cured the girl’s parents, who were both lying abed with fever. Gavin played until their pain lessened. Feng, whose facility with the Ukrainian language was the reason they brought him along, asked Lilya if she knew of anyone else who needed help. As Alice expected, Lilya did, and she threaded them through grime-laden blocks of houses lit by dead lights, chattering volubly with Feng, who listened with animated interest.
“What’s she talking about?” Gavin asked.
“Nothing in particular,” Feng replied loftily, and said something in fast Ukrainian to Lilya, who giggled.
Keeping a wary eye on dark sky and narrow street, they dodged beneath gargoyles to the next flat, where Alice cured three children, her parasol under her arm. The joyful parents pressed food on Alice and money on Gavin. She still felt odd about taking cash for curing the plague, but she reminded herself that they needed to buy paraffin oil if they wanted to reach Peking, and Gavin never asked for money. He only took what was offered.
“That went well,” Alice said as she brushed bread crumbs from her skirt and straightened her hat. She avoided trousers on most of these outings on the grounds that the spider gauntlet drew more than enough attention. A woman in trousers would only compound the problem. She looked about the flat’s tiny kitchen, which smelled of watery cabbage and rye bread. “Where’s Feng?”
They found him just outside the flat’s back door, which opened onto a stone courtyard shared by several blocky houses. He was caught in a passionate embrace with Lilya. Her skirt was hiked up to an embarrassing level and her blouse was open.
“Feng!” Alice gasped from the doorway.
Feng drew away from Lilya and blinked at her in the light that spilled from the door. There were no lights out back, and the shadows had half engulfed the pair. An oily smell wafted in from the river, covering everything with an olfactory patina of chemicals and damp. “Do you mind?” Feng said.
“Not this again!” Alice blurted, shocked. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“The same thing you have done for weeks,” Feng said as Lilya straightened her clothes, “only you do it with Gavin.”
Alice became aware that the inhabitants of the flat were standing behind her, as was Gavin, and she felt her face redden. “You’re… This is…” She recovered herself somewhat. “Feng, we have to leave. Now.”
“Of course.” He nuzzled at the girl’s cheek. “Lilya knows of another house of plague and we must go right this moment, must we not? Exactly on your schedule, and no one else’s, because you are English.”
Either he was oblivious to Alice’s outrage or he was a master at ignoring it, which only added to Alice’s fury. The girl was all but hanging out of her blouse and Feng’s… arousal was all too evident. There was certainly no possibility she could reenter the house and face the looks of the two strangers, so she marched down the back stoop and around the corner of the house, her face growing hot again as she heard Feng bid the couple good night in Ukrainian. Gavin came after.
“You are quite a… What is it you say? A piece of work,” Feng drawled. He was holding Lilya’s hand, and she was all but skipping along beside him, apparently now enjoying her adventure. She was pretty, he was handsome, and they would have made an attractive couple under other circumstances.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Alice snapped. A few blocks away, a stack erupted in bright yellow flame, then went out with a whump.
“You and Gavin carry on very plainly, like two animals in—”
“Watch your words, Feng,” Gavin growled.
“Why? Will you strike me?” Feng shot back. “I am tired of hypocrisy. You two have no stronger a connection than sweet Lilya and I do. You are not married or even engaged to be married, so by the rules of your own society, you are a pair of”—Gavin inhaled sharply, and Feng shifted ground—“a pair of very bad people. Yet you enjoy yourselves together for weeks. And then you have the nerve to tell me I should not do the same?”
“Enjoy?” Alice whirled on the narrow sidewalk to face him, almost too affronted to speak. Smoky fog curled around her body, and the amber-headed parasol banged against her shin. “What do you mean by that?”
Feng made a scoffing noise. “That is so English of you. Perfectly willing to tell everyone else what is right while you ignore your own rules. You and Gavin sent me to hide with those acrobats so you could—”
“What do you mean enjoy?” Gavin’s face was turning red. “What are you telling people about us?”
“I need speak not at all. Which is how well I get along with those smelly monkeys you forced me to live with.”
“We thought that you’d get along with them fine,” Gavin said.
“Just because they are Chinese? Ha!” Feng spat, and Lilya cast about uncomfortably, clearly uncertain about what was going on. “They are not fit company for the emperor’s goats, let alone his nephew. As much to hide you with a family of Scottish coal miners.”
“That isn’t the point,” Alice snapped. “You are accusing me of—”
“Yes, it is always you,” Feng snapped back. “You, you, you, and that cure of yours. You dragged me all over Luxembourg and Berlin and Warsaw and now to filthy Kiev for your cure. So you can save everyone. The world revolves around the great Lady Michaels, who guards her chastity during the day so her not-so-secret lover can spend himself on her at—”
Alice slapped him.
Her hand left a mark that changed from white to red on Feng’s ivory skin. Feng stared at her. Alice stared back, a little startled at herself. She had never struck another person in her life. But the fury continued to burn and she refused to move or flinch. Beside her, Gavin tensed, fists clenched. Lilya looked ready to run away. The narrow street stretched in both directions, its unwavering lights pinned to earth like half-dead stars.
“Keep your filthy false accusations to yourself, Feng,” Gavin said evenly.
After a long moment, Feng said, “Translate on your own.” He turned on his heel and stalked away.
“Should I go after him?” Gavin said.
“Certainly not.” Alice turned to the still-uncertain Lilya and gestured with her iron gauntlet. “Go on, girl.”
Lilya may not have understood the words, but she got the message. Timid again, she led Alice and Gavin to another flat, laid out exactly like the previous one. Lilya explained to the mystified inhabitants why Alice had come and then fled immediately, leaving Alice and Gavin no way to speak short of smiles and sign language. Still, Alice managed to cure a man, a child, and a baby, which cried incessantly after Alice scratched and bled on it. Although the family appeared grateful, the wailing infant put a definite damper on their mood. Alice and Gavin left as quickly as they could.
“That was difficult,” Alice said once they were back outside. “Now what?”
“We should probably just go back to the circus.” Gavin scanned the smoky street and its looming gray buildings. He coughed at the soot in his throat. “We’ll have to walk, too. Doesn’t Kiev have even delivery vans that run at night?”
“That wretched Feng,” Alice muttered, taking Gavin’s arm as he slung his fiddle case over his back. “What’s gotten into him, anyway?”
“No idea. He seemed pretty angry.”
Alice’s chin came up, which made her almost as tall as Gavin. “I’m certainly not going to apologize.” She paused. “Do you think we should apologize?”
Like intelligent men everywhere, Gavin fell back on prevarication. “Uh…”
She continued talking, half to herself. “I mean, it isn’t as if we did anything wrong. I honestly thought he’d get along better with people who spoke his own language.”
“Absolutely.”
“It may have been a little presumptuous to assume he’d be happy with a troop of Oriental acrobats just because he himself is from the Orient any more than I—we—might be happy socializing with any random person we met from England—or America.”
“You may have a point.”
She gave a heavy sigh as they walked. Their footsteps echoed down the eerie, empty street. “You don’t suppose the entire circus has been gossiping about us, have they? I mean, you don’t suppose everyone thinks we… that we’re…”
“If they do, it doesn’t seem to bother them,” Gavin pointed out. “No one seems to mind Dodd and Nathan.”
“I can’t quite get over that,” she said. “Two gentlemen, and everyone knows.”
“Which part can’t you get over? The two gentlemen part or the everyone knows part?”
“Well,” Alice amended, “I can’t say I can’t get over it. It’s not as if one never hears of such things. It’s just that one never discusses them.”
“You seem fine discussing it with me,” Gavin pointed out.
“Yes. It seems I can discuss any number of things with you, darling, and that’s one thing that makes you so special.” She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder as they walked. For a moment, it felt as if the entire city belonged to her and Gavin alone. Even the plague zombies seemed to have retreated. A number of thoughts were working their way across her mind, and with no one else about, she allowed herself freedom to express them. “I suppose I was rather self-centered. I know Feng feels disgraced and he’s nervous about facing his family again, and on top of it all, we—I—drag him all around these cities to visit plague victims and zombies.” She sighed again, feeling more and more guilty. “He said such awful things, though. Am I being womanish to feel bad about arguing with him?”
“I don’t know what that means,” Gavin said. “All the women I know would sooner smack you than sorry you.”
“What women?”
“My ma, for one. She’d smack you cross-eyed if you mouthed and I don’t ever remember her apologizing, but speak against one of her kids and you were in for a world of trouble.”
“Do you think I’ll ever get to meet her?” Alice asked.
“I don’t know.” Gavin’s eyes grew sad. “I don’t know if I’ll ever—”
“Don’t!” Alice cut off the rest of the sentence by squeezing his arm with her iron-clad hand. Her parasol knocked against her knee. “I’m being thoughtless again. We’ll see her; of course we’ll see her. She’ll have to be at the wedding.”
Gavin halted. “Is that a proposal, Lady Michaels? Come to think of it, I never did actually propose to you, did I?”
“Oh!” She colored. “Good heavens! I—I didn’t mean to—”
“Yes, you did. You certainly did.”
Alice floundered. The evening was turning out far more peculiar than she had imagined it might. The street seemed to skew sideways, and words spilled from her mouth in a dreadful torrent that she couldn’t seem to stop. “I didn’t mean to push you into anything, though I rather assumed that once we found a spare moment we would want to formalize our relationship, not that we’re particularly traditional people anymore, but my title and my upbringing both mean I was hoping for something more traditional, and even though we were in a church in Luxembourg we never even had a moment to ask Monsignor Adames if—”
Gavin shushed her. “I’ll make it easy for you.” He got down on one knee on the cobblestones before her and swept off his cap. His new wristbands gleamed in the lamplight. Alice couldn’t help clapping a hand to her mouth, not sure if she wanted to laugh or burst into tears. The horrible businessman’s offer she had gotten from Norbert last year came inevitably into her mind. He had offered her an emerald ring over a delicate luncheon of poached salmon and champagne. Gavin, dear, gallant Gavin, knelt on grimy cobblestones in a foreign city that stank of oil and steam. She couldn’t imagine a more perfect proposal.
“Alice, Lady Michaels,” he said, “will you—”
And then he was gone.
Alice stared in uncomprehending disbelief at the stones where he’d been kneeling. Gavin had simply disappeared. It wouldn’t register. What had—?
A split-second later, the clank of metal brought her head around. An enormous ostrichlike bird, easily two stories tall, was rising above her. It had come out of the alley beside and a little behind her. The bird was made entirely of brass and iron, intricately wrought and jointed. Gears spun and pistons puffed as it moved. Its head, at the end of a long segmented neck, was actually a rounded cage half the height of a man. Gavin knelt inside it, looking as startled as Alice felt.
“Good heavens!” she gasped.
The huge bird stalked forward out of the alley, revealing its body and legs now. Brass feathers shone. On the creature’s broad back rode a plump woman in a pink evening gown. Blond ringlets more suitable for a young girl framed her face, and she wore opera gloves. A console before her sported levers and switches, and she worked them with idle skill. A gleaming collar made of copper encircled her throat.
“Min!” she called. “Spaceeba!”
A hunting clockworker. The city had been so quiet, they had let their guard down. Alice’s heart pounded, and she was already moving, running straight toward the ridiculously sized ostrich, outraged beyond sensibility, her parasol raised. The amber head shone like liquid gold.
“Release him this instant!” she demanded.
“Stay back!” Gavin shouted.
The clockworker pulled a lever, and one bird wing fluttered downward. It caught Alice full across the chest and flung her backward. The air burst from her lungs. Red pain smashed her body and scored her arms as she tumbled over the pavement.
“Alice!” Gavin yelled from the cage. “Shit.”
Alice staggered to her feet as the bird started to turn away. The pain receded under anger and adrenaline as she scrambled upright, only barely managing not to tangle herself in her skirts. Her hat was gone, but she had kept her parasol. Before she could charge the bird again, from the alleyway darted half a dozen birds, smaller ones this time, perhaps twice the size of a cat. They swarmed about the larger bird’s feet, wings spread at Alice with menacing intent.
Gavin put one of his wristbands through the bars, aimed, and pressed a button. A gleaming gear shot from its magnetic release and spun toward the clockworker. She yipped and twisted out of the way with startling agility. Even a woman of her bulk came equipped with plague-enhanced reflexes. The gear pinged harmlessly off the bird’s metal back.
“What you do?” the woman called up to him in English. “Do not fight. I need the meat.”
The smaller birds clacked their beaks at Alice and scratched long runnels in the stones with their claws. Their eyes glowed red. The spider on Alice’s arm glowed back as if in answer. She gave the amber handle of the parasol a deft twist. It ratcheted twice, and a high-pitched whine shrilled in her ears. The parasol handle shone blue. The birds lowered their heads, ready to charge, and Alice slapped the handle. A bolt of electricity cracked from the tip of the parasol to the first bird. It froze in place. Sparks spat from its eyes and beak, and ozone tanged in the air. The bird fizzled with a smell of hot metal, but the electric arc was already jumping to the next bird, creating a wicked electric rainbow in the air. The second bird sparked and collapsed, and the power connected to the third, and the fourth. The arc of dreadful lightning poured from parasol to bird to bird to bird. Alice’s hair stood out like leaves on a wild bush. The lightning arced to the fifth and sixth birds. They crackled and spat and half melted, beaks open in silent screams. Then the electricity abruptly ended. The parasol went heavy in Alice’s hands, and the birds tipped to the pavement with six identical thuds. A line of smoke trickled from the end of the weapon, and Alice lowered it with shaky hands.
“Now,” she said firmly, “you will let him go.”
“Hodynnyk?” the clockworker said.
“Was that an insult?” Alice demanded.
“I think it means clock,” Gavin said. He aimed with the wristband again and fired another cog. This one struck a lever on the clockworker’s control panel and moved it. The cage holding Gavin abruptly opened from the bottom like a claw being released. Gavin, ready for this, kept hold of one bar and swung himself around to the giant bird’s neck, whereupon he skimmed downward until he could safely drop to the ground. The move was magnificent to watch, and Alice couldn’t help admiring it, despite the recent fight.
“You are clockworkers,” the woman said, switching back to English. She clucked her tongue. “You might have said instead of destroying our little pets. There are ethics.”
“Sure,” Gavin said. “And you might have asked before you snatched me up.”
The woman shrugged and pointed to herself. “Ivana Gonta. We see you are from other country. Would you like chocolate?” A mechanical hand emerged from the control panel with a small foil box. It extended itself down to Alice, who took the box without thinking. “You take. Is very useful.”
“Thank you,” she said automatically.
“Is good, is good. Because you are new, we will not kill you for hunting in our part of town, all right?”
“The Dnepro divides Kiev. The Gontas and Zalizniaks rule as one, but everyone knows we Gontas are superior, so the Gontas hunt on the much better right bank and the weaker Zalizniaks”—she spat—“have the left. You go hunt over there for when you need meat, not over here.”
“Right,” Gavin said. “Good advice. Thanks.”
“Is good, is good,” Ivana said again. “Circus is in town, you know. We have seen. Wonderful elephant. You must visit. Perhaps we will bring elephant to our house for private entertainment for important foreign guests.”
“Oh, we shouldn’t… ,” Alice began.
“No, no, not you.” Ivana waved a gloved hand. “You are not important. We are only telling you because tomorrow night we are busy with guests and perhaps you can hunt then without that we kill you. You go now. Keep chocolate. Very good for luring children.”
The large bird turned and lumbered away into the city, its cage dangling open. The six little birds lay on the street like half-melted metal candles. Alice looked at the box in her hand, then abruptly tossed it away and scrubbed her hand against her skirt.
“That was very strange,” Gavin said absently.
“Do you truly think so?” Alice couldn’t keep the disgust out of her voice.
“Definitely. Your parasol should have lasted much longer.” He took it from her and held it up to a streetlight with a critical air. The amber had turned black. “I’ll have to look at the design.”
“Eh? Oh! I’m sorry.” He handed her the parasol, straightened his clothes, adjusted the fiddle case, which was still fastened to his back, and went down on one knee. “Alice, Lady Michaels, will you marry—”
“Oh, good heavens!” Alice was all set to be angry, but she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a window that the ever-present light had turned into a mirror. The sight of her wild hair and disheveled clothing and smoking parasol brought out a burst of laughter instead. It overcame her, and she laughed and laughed. Some baroness she was. An image of her late father’s probable reaction to the entire situation popped into her mind, and for a moment, she understood why Gavin laughed so hard on that awful day in the ringmaster’s travel car. The ridiculousness of the entire world was pointed in her direction, and helpless laughter was the only response. She nearly bent double under the onslaught. Gavin scrambled upright and put his arm around her.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Per-perfectly,” she gasped. “Good heavens. Will you marry me, indeed!” And she laughed some more while the gargoyles and dead metal birds overhead looked on. “You’re a true rogue, Gavin Ennock. I don’t know how I ever let you go before.”
Before Gavin could respond, a shot rang out from the direction Ivana Gonta’s bird had taken. A second shot followed. Alice’s laughter instantly ceased. Gavin’s eyes met hers with the same thought.
“Feng,” they both said.