Time passed by Victoria without her really noticing. She fell into a daze as people whirled about around her at an accelerated rate. Mama had come into the room shortly after. Questions flew around, none that Victoria really had answers to. She had been ushered off to a side room where Mama came in and out to offer comfort and the occasional glass of water.
Had she fallen asleep? Probably. She couldn’t remember any dreams, but she felt refreshed upon waking.
Perhaps a lack of dreams was for the best. They would have certainly taken a turn towards nightmares had she had them.
Peelers had shown up at some point. They moved with the same apparent speed that everything else ran at since Mr. Mallory’s death. Whatever their questions had been, Victoria had barely heard them.
Mama had shooed them away, mumbling something about how Victoria was ‘out of sorts at the moment.’
Dawn had come.
Victoria couldn’t say when.
However, as natural light washed over the room she was in, Victoria could hear voices from out in the hallway. They were muffled through the door, but one word stuck out to her.
“Suicide?” Mama said, somewhat aghast.
“Murder-suicide,” came the voice of one of the peelers that had been questioning Victoria earlier. “The note makes that clear. We’re sorry this happened to you Madam, but there’s nothing more here for us to do.”
Victoria blinked, stunned for a moment that they could possibly think that it had been suicide. She jumped to her feet and rushed to the door.
“It wasn’t suicide,” she half-shouted as she threw open the door. “There was a third person there, with a heavy cloak and glowing eyes.” Victoria paused, turning to face her mother. “And with scales all across her face. Like my dream mama.”
“Dream?” one of the officers—a rotund man named “Lou” based on the word engraved in his sword and shield shaped nameplate—said. He and his partner shared a look.
“Ignore that,” Victoria said with a shake of her head. She wasn’t thinking as clear as she should be. Dreams weren’t something to be mentioned during a murder investigation. “There was a third person there. They jumped out the window.”
“From the second floor?” Mama said, looking as skeptical as the two officers. “There’s an iron fence out there. They would have skewered themselves.”
“I know what I saw, Mama.”
“Look, we have a signed confession.” Bud, the other of the officers, held up a sheet of paper. “James T. Mallory, killed his mistress and then himself because his wife found out.”
“Why would he have complained about the heat if he was just going to kill himself? It was murder.”
“Hows about this. We can ask around the area, other tenants and neighbors, see if anyone else saw a mysterious person in a cloak…” he trailed off with a glance to his partner.
Lou shrugged his shoulders, and held out his hands. One of those hands made an obvious gesture towards his eyes. It was probably intended to be discrete, but he failed miserably.
“With glowing eyes,” Bud finished. “Sound good to you kid?”
“I’m seventeen.”
“Victoria,” Mama said, breaking into the conversation with a patronizing tone. “Why don’t you spend the day in your workshop. Or go around town, take your mind off things. I can spare some change. Didn’t you say you needed a new valve or whatever it was?”
“A pressure gauge, Mama,” Victoria said with a sigh. She rubbed her forehead just above her eyebrows. Not even Mama believed her.
“That’s what I meant,” she said, clearly not having meant anything remotely similar. Mama had never been one for any sort of machinery. “Head into town and have a relaxing day.”
“Yes, Mama,” Victoria said with another sigh.
“Maybe I am thinking too much,” Victoria said, gears in her mind already churning.
There was a murderer on the loose. One that had seen Victoria’s face. She couldn’t help but wonder if the peelers or her mother would take her more seriously if she had never mentioned scales or her dream. Would they still discount her because of the note?
But it couldn’t be helped. Mama’s word was higher than the king’s within her inn.
Of course, Victoria had also seen the murderer’s face. And that face was far more distinctive than her own. Surely someone in town would have seen it. Everyone needed to eat and butcheries and granaries sold to everyone. All she needed to do was find one person that could corroborate her story.
Then the peelers would have to believe her.
“Might I take the horse?”
The Emerald Inn was a coaching inn, intended for weary travelers in need of food or shelter while on their way to and from Xerena, the capitol city of Zolom. As such, it had been built a fair distance away from the city itself. In fact, it was the closest outpost to the border with Kayeland.
During the less frigid months, they often got all manner of strange people through their inn. No one scaly, but strange all the same.
Of course, the inn wasn’t too far from the city. Just far enough that Victoria really did not want to walk while there was snow on the ground.
Mama put on a slight grimace at her question. “I suppose,” she said slowly. “If you agree to take the cart and pick up a supply of oats and spuds. A keg of ale as well.”
“Alright,” Victoria said with a happy nod of her head. She had already intended to visit a few food distribution shops. Pulling a cart might slow her down getting to town, but not as much as walking. It had the added benefit of keeping her feet out of the snow. “Shall I–”
Victoria cut herself off with a frown. She had almost asked if she should pick up a few slabs of meat from the butchery as well. Something not for the customers, just for her and Mama. Meat was a rare treat for them and this seemed to be a perfect opportunity to purchase some.
The thought of picking up meat brought back images of that woman lying on the bed with her throat slit open.
She was so glad that the lighting had been poor. Victoria had barely a glimpse of the dead woman and that was more than enough.
“Never mind,” she said. “Is there anything else you need while I’m out?”
“Fresh linens.”
Victoria winced but nodded. “I can do that.”
The officers, who had been standing around twiddling their thumbs, tipped their bowlers towards Mama.
“We’ll have somebody by to collect the bodies later on.”
“Thank you officers.”
As they headed out the front doors, Victoria headed towards the back. She needed to grab a long coat and a hat of her own—a simple flat cap. A little something to keep the warmth in and the cold out.
And, while she was thinking about the cold, checking on the boiler might be good as well. Though the weather was chilly outside, especially at night, it wasn’t so cold that it needed to be running all day.
Most tenants didn’t stick around beyond a breakfast meal anyway. They had destinations to get to. A little chill around the morning hours helped shoo them out the doors, leaving time to clean for any guests that might arrive at nightfall.
Except, she wouldn’t be cleaning at all today.
Having gathered her gear in a small bag and shut down the boiler, Victoria headed out to the stable. It was a large building—it had to be. They could house several parties of travelers at once. Given that most used horse-drawn carts for transport of their goods, they had need of a stable almost as large as the inn itself.
Of course, the carts and carriages weren’t housed within the building. Just the horses.
With the rail systems being built all across Zolom, Victoria had to wonder if Kayeland would do the same. Eventually, the communications between the kingdoms might be agreeable enough to connect the rail lines. At that point, their inn might want for more customers.
The convenience and efficiency for travel and transport of goods that rails had over horses could not be overstated. The only thing better would be travel by air. With aircraft being strictly regulated by the crown, that wasn’t really an option for most.
However, for the moment, horse drawn carts was the only viable method of trade between kingdoms.
And in passing by the carts, Victoria spotted Mr. Mallory’s carriage. It was a regular passenger carriage. Not designed for goods save for people and what they could carry on their person.
For whatever reason, she hadn’t expected it to still be here. Perhaps the police would have carted it away.
But there it was, painted maroon with elegant curved brass plates for highlights. The immaculate windows had been cleaned to such a degree that it almost looked as if it had no windows. Even the wheels looked as if they had had a fresh coat of paint applied immediately before setting out for the inn.
Surely it wouldn’t stay at the inn. Mallory had been well off. A government official of some sort, he had a sizable estate. Someone had to come out to collect it eventually. Or perhaps the carriage was owned by the crown. They wouldn’t just leave it here.
Victoria felt a gnawing curiosity rise within her. For the moment, the carriage was here. The peelers had already left. Judging by the lack of other carts, the other customers had gone as well—probably left early due to the disturbance of Mallory’s murder.
She stepped up to the door and tugged at the handle.
Giving off a light click, the door remained where it was.
Most carriages and carts that passed through lacked locks. This one had a small circular hole just beneath the handle.
“Guess I should have expected that from a rich government vehicle,” Victoria murmured to herself as she dug through her bag. From it, she pulled out a thin rod. One end of the thin rod had a large wheel with several buttons. The other end had several tiny holes in it, resembling a miniature flute if flutes had their holes spread across the entire surface of the tube rather than in a straight line.
It was Victoria’s own design, one of the few things that she had created that actually worked. At least, it worked on all of the doors in the inn. Its creation had been driven by one too many customers locking themselves in their rooms. Mama occasionally locking a key in a room hadn’t hurt her motivation either.
There were only so many times she could be asked to drop into the windows from the roof. Even with rope, it was dangerous with the fence around the building.
Unfortunately, she didn’t know which configuration was needed for this particular door. It should still work, it would just take a bit of toying with.
Victoria started with it outside of the lock. She pressed a few of the buttons, making sure that all of them worked. There were jams every now and again that required a few minutes of retooling.
Pressing one button caused an intricate series of cogs to turn and trigger springs. Narrow telescopic rods emerged from the holes in the flute-like tube. The length of each rod was determined by the turning of its button.
Finding her reconfigurable key to be in perfect working order, Victoria pressed it into the carriage’s locking mechanism. She sat down on the step and pressed her ear to the door.
Victoria could discount a good number of the buttons outright. The carriage door was far thinner than regular doors. Once she decided on which rods were the proper distance into the locking mechanism, she started to rotate her key. She stopped at the point where the most buttons were depressible—the rest were just hitting the metal chassis.
After that, the listening came into play. Each button needed to be twisted just right to get the pins out of the way while keeping the rods in the rotatable part of the lock.
There were barely audible clicks at the proper point. Even then, she missed one of the pins four times before she locked it down.
Once her key was properly adjusted, she gave the handle a light twist.
The carriage door clicked open.
Victoria slipped inside and shut the door. Being a fancy carriage, it had drawstring curtains. She pulled closed the ones over the windows that faced the inn. She didn’t want Mama looking for her and finding her inside Mallory’s carriage.
But she still wanted to have a look.
James T. Mallory had been murdered. Of that, Victoria was certain. Unless the murderer was one of his past lovers out for revenge—and she was fairly certain that The Emerald Inn had never hosted someone with scales—there had to be a reason why. Perhaps something related to his government work.
Before she looked around for any papers or notebooks, Victoria just had to take a moment and marvel at the interior.
The exterior with its brass and shiny paint was one thing, but it was almost an expected thing. Carriages, especially those relating to the higher echelons of society, could often be seen around the city. They weren’t common, but not exactly uncommon either.
Victoria had even ridden in carriages on occasion. Not any of the fancy government ones, but she could often hitch a ride with kind travelers and traders while trekking between the inn and the city.
Sometimes the seats were cushioned. Most often they weren’t. When they were cushioned, they were more like sitting on a folded blanket that had been placed over some wood.
Sitting down on one side had Victoria melting. None of the chairs in the inn could compare. Even the beds were stone next to this carriage seat.
Carriage was almost too poor of a word for this particular vehicle. This was a genuine coach.
And the leg room. All the carriages that she had been in had her knocking knees with anyone sitting in the opposite seat. Mallory’s carriage had enough room for her to stretch her legs all the way out.
It was a wonder he even came into the inn at all. The only thing that the inn could really provide over this carriage was food and heat.
Frankly, Victoria wouldn’t be surprised if there was a lever somewhere that activated a hidden wood stove. She doubted it—despite it being so fancy, the coach was still made of wood and would probably burn down—but she wouldn’t be surprised.
After a few more luxurious minutes of relaxation, Victoria focused on her original task.
Secret documents, work papers, items, anything that might be worth murdering him for.
There was no obvious luggage sitting out, but most carriages had compartments behind the seats. A simple lever would crank a few gears and fold out the seats for loading. There were usually exterior access ports as well, but those would have had more locks to pick.
The lever inside Mallory’s coach was disguised as the Heraldic Bearing of Zolom. It was the profile of a gold-plated eagle mid-swoop as if it were about to carry an elk off a mountainside. The eagle was set within a twelve-toothed gear—again gold because everything related to the crown had to be gold colored. There was one on either side of the coach, above the seats.
It had been redesigned in the last century or so. The eagle symbolized Zolom’s air superiority while the cog represented its mechanical might. Simple and sweet. Easy for even a child to draw and recognize.
Twisting one of the bearings, Victoria watched as the back of the seat slid upwards as smooth as could be. The seat followed the back up, both stopping at head level and revealing the storage compartment.
An empty compartment.
With a frown, Victoria pressed the seat back down into position. The back moved all by itself as she pushed the seat down in a neat feat of engineering. Though it had been near silent while rising up, she heard the telltale clicking of a spring being wound while pushing it back down.
She turned and twisted open the opposite compartment.
“Ah. There we go.”
A thin black case sat pressed against the back. Victoria pulled it out, took one look at the golden emblem on the front, and promptly dropped it.
As with the Heraldic Bearing of Zolom, most government agencies had simple and easy to recognize symbols.
A gear with double crossed wrenches for the Royal Engineering Corps, an eight-spoked wagon wheel for the transportation department, a sword and shield for the peelers.
The logo on the briefcase was a c-shaped moon with an eye wide open in the center.
“The Sentinels,” Victoria whispered to herself.
No one knew what Sentinels did. There were whispers and rumors. Everything from spying on other countries to secret guardians of the Royal Family. Some rumors contradicted others, but the one thing that was always constant was that people often went missing when Sentinels were involved.
There was a lock on the briefcase. Not the same pinhole locking systems normally used throughout the kingdom. It was an odd hexagonal lock.
Victoria didn’t so much as entertain an idea of how she might unlock it. She picked up the briefcase, slid it back right where she had found it, and closed the compartment.
Someone would definitely be by to pick up the coach and Victoria wanted to be nowhere nearby when that happened.
Peeking out the windows, Victoria made sure that there was nobody around before slipping out. Locking the door was much easier as she already knew which buttons needed pressing.
With one last look around to ensure that no one was around, Victoria ran straight to the horse stable.
She only stopped once she reached the far end. Taking a moment to calm her beating heart, Victoria walked up to the old black and white horse.
“Gorey,” Victoria said, rubbing a hand up and down the old horse’s face. “How you doing old boy?”
The horse just huffed in her face.
Victoria gave a weak chuckle. “Scary things going on.”
Scary enough that she was considering dropping her plan for the day and leaving well enough alone. If Mallory really was a Sentinel, or was involved with them in any manner, someone would be investigating his death.
Unless the Sentinels had been responsible for his death.
Maybe that case had been stolen. Or planted there by his enemies to get the Sentinels after him.
No. She would carry through with her original plan. If she did find someone that had seen a person with scales, she could have both of their testimonies given to the peelers. Once it was out of her hands, Victoria would be able to go back to her everyday life and maybe get some decent sleep.
Victoria moved with haste, gearing up Gorey for travel in record time. She had spent far too long snooping around Mallory’s carriage. Even assuming her mother didn’t get suspicious, she had a number of stops to make in town and still had to come back by nightfall.
Harness in place, Victoria led Gorey outside and around the stables. Their cart wasn’t anything fancy. Unpainted wooden wheels with a wooden bed. Splinters stuck up in the back where heavier loads had crushed the half rotted wood. More than one plank was in desperate need of replacement. There was no roof overhead. Not even a cushioned seat.
Combined with her brown clothes, flat cap, workman’s coat, and traveling boots, Victoria looked the very picture of poverty.
In short, nobody would be mistaking Victoria for anyone important.
While the Emerald Inn wasn’t rich by any means, they weren’t exactly hurting for gold either. Victoria simply preferred the more comfortable clothing. Mama liked not spending a fortune on a wardrobe, so that didn’t hurt matters either.
As for the cart… well, if it was still working, no need to fix it up right away.
All hitched up and ready to go, Victoria stopped by inside.
Mama stood behind the counter at the entrance, arms crossed and a frown on her face.
“While I intended for this to be a more relaxing day,” she said slowly, “there is no need for lallygagging. If you’re not back by nightfall, who is going to get that infernal machine running?”
Victoria sighed. It wasn’t that hard. Twist a valve, toss a match, and whoosh, instant steam. There was a safety valve on the boiler. Even if she set the gas on too high, it wouldn’t explode.
But Mama wouldn’t take that as an answer, Victoria well knew.
“I’ll be back Mama.”
“See that you are.” Reaching beneath the counter, Mama pulled out a small bag and a scrap of paper. “Your list,” she said. “Relax, but don’t forget anything.”
She slipped the paper into the bag before tossing it.
Victoria caught it, clanking the coins inside. The pouch opened with a snap.
A glint caught her eye as she angled the opening towards a window.
Mama must be really intending to give me a vacation, Victoria thought as she ogled the amount. There must be enough gold inside to buy an engine. This was far more than was needed to buy a few supplies for the inn.
Victoria pulled out the list, reading over it to make sure that her mother hadn’t added something big. There was nothing more than had already been said. Some food and fresh linens.
Glancing up, Victoria found her mother looking down at her with a soft smile on her face.
“Get yourself something nice dear. I love you.”
Victoria blinked, not quite sure where her mother’s sudden mood had come from. Sure, two people had died. That had to be a shock. But Mama was Mama. Hard and unforgiving.
“I love you too, Mama.”
Mama’s smile grew. It lasted for but a moment. Her face turned back to the stern innkeeper that Victoria knew so well. “Now get going. And I want whatever is leftover back, so don’t be spending it all. You hear?”
“Yes Mama,” Victoria said as she slipped the bag into a pouch on the inside of her jacket.
With a wave, she headed out the door, hopped on the cart, snapped the reins, and was on the road to the city.
Setting the reins in her lap, Victoria leaned back, propping her elbows up against a beam of wood separating her seat from the bed.
Gorey trotted along at a languid pace. Even if Victoria wanted to rush him, he wouldn’t be able to last too long. He was getting on in age, not the spry steed that he was in his youth. So long as the cart moved slowly, he wouldn’t find it much of a problem.
But the journey provided a nice place for Victoria to lean back and think. Mallory crossed her mind more than once. What had he been doing with that briefcase? Had Victoria ever seen any of the women that he brought to their inn more than a single time? Was he ‘disappearing’ them? Or rather, had he been ‘disappearing’ them?
Who was that other person in his room? Why were there scales and glowing eyes under that cloak? Why had she dreamed of massive flying lizards just before encountering that person? Had she actually hallucinated what she had seen? There had been a person, that much was certain.
But scales?
It was too strange.
Other such thoughts consumed her mind as she traveled. At least, they did until she spotted something on the road.
A plume of white smoke—perhaps steam—trailed along behind a massive construct. Easily twice as big as Mallory’s coach had been, and that had been a large coach.
It wasn’t hard to see why it was so big. Most of the front was taken up by a large horizontal boiler. Painted black with brass fastenings, the cylinder was emblazoned with the shield and sword of the peelers. A flywheel spun to one side while pistons turned wheels that had to be at least as tall as Victoria was.
And Victoria considered herself somewhat tall for her age. She towered over most other girls and even had several of the men beat in height.
The wheels were at least twice as wide as she was as well. Straddling the boiler, they gave the vehicle quite the bulk.
Enough so that Victoria steered Gorey off to the side of the road.
She hopped off the cart and went up to her horse, patting him and keeping him calm as the machine tore past her cart. While she might enjoy the rhythmic chug of steam engines, Gorey was quite the opposite. He was chuffing and scratching his hooves against the ground, clearly agitated.
“Shh, Gorey. It’s fine,” she said as she stroked his nose. “You know me, right?”
Gorey, being a horse, couldn’t talk of course. Still, he seemed to take some comfort in her presence.
Victoria just had to take a moment to marvel at the steam engine. It was loud, clunking, and huge, but it was a wonderful means of transportation. It didn’t get tired and it didn’t get agitated at loud noises. And it was much faster than a horse. At least while pulling something. Perhaps an individual riding on the back of a horse could beat it someplace. But it would beat any regular caravan in both speed and load.
It served its purpose well.
That purpose, Victoria thought after a moment, is collecting two dead bodies from our inn.
She gave a light shudder. That could be the only explanation for the large windowless carriage hooked up at the back.
Maybe they would even tow Mallory’s coach with them.
With a shake of her head and one last pat of Gorey’s face, Victoria climbed back aboard her own cart.
She was almost to the city.
The Royal Airships were already visible, hovering high above the ground.
Two smaller ships lazily circled around, both in the older zeppelin model. Cigar shaped tubes carried what looked like oceanic ships. They had keels and were angled to a point at the bottom. Essentially platforms carried by the zeppelin. Smokestacks stuck out through the top, though nothing came out of them at the moment.
The engines were off, merely drifting in the winds.
The Crown Jewel was more stationary. Lacking the cigar-tubes, it stayed afloat thanks only to the sheer power of its engines. Propellers spun on the sides, several aimed straight down while others were angled. A single one of the propellers was the size of one of the smaller zeppelins.
Massive didn’t even begin to describe its size.
Shining bright gold in the sunlight, the thing belched out steam from three smokestacks. Each one large enough that the entirety of The Emerald Inn could fit within.
Unlike the zeppelins, which could land only in water or specialized docks, The Crown Jewel was flat on the bottom. In fact, it was shaped almost like a shoe, if shoes became flat on top again.
And the top… Victoria couldn’t see it from below, but she had seen pictures in the city newspapers when it had first launched a year prior. It was a pavilion full of glass structures and enclosures.
The engineers behind its design had to be geniuses of the highest caliber. Next to them, Victoria’s configurable key was child’s play.
Feelings of inadequacy aside, Victoria couldn’t help but to stare up at the thing every single time she came into town. Unfortunately, the buildings in town obscured it from view more often than not.
With a sigh, she looked back down to the road as a building did just that.
She had a job to do. Several, actually.
It was time to get to work.