Page 44 of The Iron Dagger
People jammed the pavement outside, and it seemed that everything at eye level pulsed with light. Signs advertising shops and businesses were layered on top of each other in a visual cacophony. Many of them seemed to be alive with movement. Figures made of light showed couples dancing, meat sizzling, and gems sparkling in such an assault of light and color that it made her eyes water. Hara couldn’t tear her gaze away.
Many businesses offered room and board in exchange for work, coins shimmering and dripping endlessly from animated signs. A young woman sat at the shabby entrance of one of these places, her chin resting in her palm. The lights passed over her face, and her tired eyes met Hara’s for only a moment before they were sped away.
The streets were a jumble of horses and autocars, and several times they had to slow to make their way through a congested area.
“Why do people still use horses if these are available?” she asked Gideon.
“Cost,” said Gideon, patting the leather bag full of coins at his side. “A ride in one of these isn’t cheap, and it is hard to transport the fuel outside of the city. But in our case, it’s a matter of appearance, not money. Riding up to the palace sharing a horse is one thing, sharing an auto is another.”
“What do you mean?”
“I am the Commander’s son. There’s a certain . . . image I need to maintain,” he said, resting his elbow on the window ledge and running his thumb over his lip. An image of wealth, Hara surmised, turning to look out the window again. She thought of the young woman at the entrance of the workhouse. It was clear that money was the lifeblood of this place.
They finally broke free of the neon labyrinth of the city and made their way to the cliffside. When they reached it, Hara was dismayed to learn that they would have to climb intoanother metal box to ride up the sheer cliff face to the palace entrance.
Liveried footmen opened the door to their vehicle and bowed deeply to Gideon when he stepped down. One of the men offered his gloved hand to Hara, but Gideon turned and held out his instead, brushing the footman aside. Hara took it, her knees slightly shaking from the ride.
He led her to the curious metal contraption that rose on an angled track, and the footmen closed the doors behind them with a snap. Gideon must have noticed Hara’s nervous gaze darting around the interior.
“How did you get into the palace before if you had no funicular?” asked Gideon. He settled comfortably on the hard seat, his arms splayed to rest on the window ledges. It was obvious he had ridden in this contraption countless times.
“There was a controlled gust of wind that rose in a spiral up the mountain. You simply stepped into the current and it would float you to the top,” she said, nervously peering over the edge.
Gideon chuckled. “Don’t know why you’re so anxious in here. Riding a gust of wind sounds terrifying by comparison.”
“This feels creaky. Are we being pulled by ropes? A gust of wind can’t break,” she said, then lapsed into silence. The wind apparently had broken, because it was no longer there to transport visitors.
When they exited the funicular, a pair of doors opened silently to admit them into the palace. The hall they entered was spacious and circular, and Hara could not help but gasp in recognition. They had entered the royal families’ quarter of the palace, and they stood in the courtyard with the grand staircase that split and wrapped around the upper floors. Stars glinted from the open ceiling high above, and in the center of the floorwas the Windsong fountain, water spilling and splashing in white gushes.
Over the thrashing of the water, a faint noise met her ears, and a wave of nostalgia rushed up through her chest. It sounded otherworldly, like a violin string that never ceased its song. It wavered up and down unexpectedly, little playful dips accompanying the splashing of the water.
“It’s still here,” she whispered.
Gideon grinned at her reaction. “You recognize it?”
She nodded. It was a tribute to elemental power. There was a charm on the fountain that sensed the weather outside, converting temperature, wind, and sunlight into sound. The sound a snowy day made was her favorite as a child.
How strange that this charm remained while the spiral gust had died away.
“Come, my family’s quarters are this way,” said Gideon, guiding her down a softly lit corridor. The lamps had a shifting quality to them, illuminating as they approached and dying away after they passed. They seemed to glow without smoke or fuel, and Hara stared at them as they made their way down the halls. Another marvelous invention like the autocars, she thought.
“I suppose it should not come as a surprise that your family has an entire wing of the palace,” she murmured.
“The rooms in the palace are rather small for my liking. We have two other houses in the city as well,” said Gideon casually.
Hara’s mouth twisted. What must it be like to have never known want?
They reached double-doors of black wood, and the guards who stood by inclined their heads silently and opened them when they saw Gideon. As he stepped confidently into the rooms beyond without breaking his stride, his plum cloakswirling in his wake, Hara felt for the first time that Gideon matched his surroundings.
The rooms he led her through were stuffed with finery. Every corner boasted smooth polished wood, gleaming decanters of wine, and heavily gilded fireplaces. There were many instruments that she did not recognize; more modern inventions, she supposed.
Finally they reached a room that Hara thought at first was a closet. It was dim and sparsely adorned, and she followed Gideon hesitantly, wondering if he had meant to come this way until she saw a desk and a man sitting behind it. The man had close-cropped gray hair that receded above his brow. The only adornment on his black suit was a tiny crest over his lapel. He appeared to be the Commander’s clerk.
The man’s gaze flicked up from his work, and he gave a surprised smile. “Welcome home.”
“No peal of trumpets? No welcome feast?” said Gideon.
“You were late in reporting back, so forgive me for not organizing a more elaborate fanfare,” said the clerk, setting down his pen and reclining in his seat.
