Chapter Seven

“The Long Climb”

1.

IT WAS THE HANGING all over again.

Wednesday morning had come around quicker than she could have ever anticipated. It felt like there had barely been any time to prepare. It had suddenly dawned on her, as she secreted a lockpick in the bandages around her chest earlier, that she would probably be searched; it was too late to do anything about that now. She would just have to improvise and hope whichever clammy hands were put on her were under the influence of the town’s ubiquitous moonshine. On the plus side, it would have been more suspicious had she not had a pistol strapped to her waist on the approach. She doubted, however, she would have the chance to keep it for long.

Once more the whole town had come to line the streets to watch her approach the imposing double doors of the mansion, so eerily grand and well-made in the midst of the rackety improvisation that was Souptown’s predominant style. As she strode towards it, the townspeople bunched up behind her and craned their heads to try to take a peek at the luxury inside.

They were to be disappointed. The vast doors opened only slightly—barely enough for the bulk of the twins to shuffle out sideways, one after the other. They moved forward to the front of the elaborate portico, standing on the steps so they could look down at their citizens. Both were holding their golden Winchesters across their chest, like a man of the law had just stepped up to their homestead.

“What’s all the racket?” said one of the twins. The language sounded like Eustace though the delivery was Casey’s, and nobody dared hazard a guess as to which of the brothers had said it.

Florence extricated himself from somewhere in the crowd and approached the steps before them, his hat held obsequiously at his belly between two hands. “Mister Casey, Mister Eustace,” he stammered. “I done gone got this here boy who’s said to be damn fine with an anvil and hammer, sirs. Said he wants to earn his way in the Campbell Mansion, see all the fine sights that can be earned from hard labour.”

“Ah,” said the other brother. “So there’s someone in this town that wants to work, is there? Someone who ain’t come here hidin’ or scoungin’ and just wants to make a name for ‘emselves in our fine comm-un-i-teee!” The last syllable was spat, like a curse—an attack against the wastrels that flocked around the grandeur.

“Well,” said his sibling, “you’ll be treated like a brother. Treated like the Queen of England! What’s your name, boy?”

“Andy,” said Annabelle, trying to sound gruff and sweating with the effort of it. “Andy Bell, sir.”

“Well, Andy Bell. You make a fine example. If all these others would conform to your ways, why, we shouldn’t have so many hangings in our fair little town.”

“Let this be a lesson to y’all,” continued the other twin, seamlessly. “That this man, this brave hardworkin’ an’ noble man, is a paragon of virtue in this seemly world of ours. Come on in, boy. We’ll make you right at home.”

Annabelle, her boots clopping loudly on each step as she made her way up, saw the Soup Twins part from each other’s sides so each stood beside her as she made her way towards the threshold. The door was still ajar; unlike the corpulent brothers she slipped through it easily, and took in the grand room that opened up before her.

A double staircase reached up like a pair of wings from the centre of the entrance hall, splaying off to both sides at the top into a mezzanine than ran around the entirety of the walls. A painting of each of the Soup Brothers, identical except for the fact they were mirror images, was hung at the bottom of either staircase. Besides these and a small wooden dresser set between them, the rest of the room was totally blank with the marble of the outer brickwork left bare on the walls. To Annabelle the whole thing looked more like a hospital or laboratory than a home, and the aseptic cleanliness and astringent smell of the place only furthered this impression. Halfway up the staircase, a young woman was on her knees scrubbing the steps with a rough brush, a small metal pail set beside her. Another could be seen, her back to the door on the mezzanine, and both seemed to stiffen and markedly increase the ferocity of the cleaning when the brothers appeared. Yet the most shocking aspect of their appearance in the mansion was their clothes—it seemed they were barely wearing anything at all; even the whores of Souptown would have blanched at the prospect of wearing such a degrading uniform. If there was any more proof needed that the Campbell Twins ruled through fear and intimidation, this was it. Annabelle knew she had to tread carefully, and was suddenly glad she had decided, after everything, to dress as a man.

“Quite the domicile, don’tcha think?” said the twin closest to her, staring up proudly as he eased the strap of his Winchester over his shoulder. “My dear brother and myself like the finer things in life. Our benefactor was happy to indulge us, seeing as the—how shall we say?—services we provided him with were tailored to our particular talents.”

Annabelle’s ears pricked up. Who was this benefactor? She thought back to her Uncle Cyrus and his betrayal of the empire. It was feasible, she supposed, that with the backing of the Russians he could have bankrolled this whole folly, but something about that just didn’t add up, and she doubted the practical and utilitarian Russians would indulge in such frippery on the part of these criminal upstarts. Her current priority was rescuing Enderby, but when she’d found and released the spy she would make sure they’d work together to discover the identity of the Soup Twins’ backer. Though they were clearly responsible for the destruction of the Greenore cave and the ungodly experiments to create more brutish monsters, it was the puppet master that must ultimately be brought to account—even if it did mean the trial and probable execution of her uncle.

She shivered unconsciously. She had to stop calling him that—as far as she was concerned, he was not her uncle any more.

“He must be a grand man, this benefactor of yours,” said Annabelle, keeping her voice low so the brothers might not detect its feminine lilt.

“Oh, he’s a grand one, all right. Deeper pockets than King Solomon and a fine gentleman; a truly fine gentleman.”

It certainly didn’t sound like Cyrus Grant. “Who is he?” she asked.

The brother beside her turned and squinted. “And what kind of a question is that, young Andy? I’ll tell you what. It ain’t the kind of question you should be askin’. And while we’re at it, let’s have that little ol’ pea shooter off your belly.” He held out his hand impatiently, and with reluctance Annabelle unstrapped the pistol and handed it over. She’d hoped they hadn’t noticed. “Thank you kindly, young Andy. Now, shall we get you to work?”

2.

HE WASN’T SURE IF the new orange-fire crystal was the result of his thoughts about the three crystals being one, or if this was their natural state and their proximity had brought about the merging, but one thing he did know after conducting a few small tests; this new crystal was the power source he had been looking for.

If jothrick could power Imperator, imagine what this new crystal could do for Sovereign!

“Yer know, ya should name this thing. Yer can’t keep on calling it a fire crystal,” Tally had pointed out once Nathaniel had finished his tests. He was quite right. The Russians had named the jothrick after their leader—should he do likewise and christen the fire crystal victorianite? Tally didn’t think so, not least because of Ireland’s mercurial position with Great Britain. “Should be something personal to yer; something that says Nathaniel Stone.”

Yes, but what? For a while he had pondered it, his eyes roaming his quarters while Tally started on the lunar bat stew he’d brought them. What really stood out in Nathaniel’s life? He didn’t have a great deal of personal possessions; indeed, he wasn’t even officially alive. What good would it do naming the fire crystal after him? Nathaniel’s eyes alighted on the Conan Doyle book. “Yes! Edwinite!”

Tally looked up from the fungus he was using to soak up the stew juice. “Eh? What kind of daft name is that?”

“After my brother, Edwin. He died because of all this,” Nathaniel explained, his voice soft, his mind drifting back to the image of his lodgings in London alight with flames. He swallowed. The cost to him had been personal—he had to succeed now, if only to make sense of Edwin’s death. “To think it’s been over ten months… Poor Edwin. All he wanted was adventure, to follow in his brother’s footsteps.”

Tally patted him on the shoulder. “Edwinite is a grand name. Sure and yer brother would be proud.”

After that, Tally returned to Sherlock Holmes’ first adventure, an unspoken understanding between them. Nathaniel returned to his work to take his mind off Edwin; all the while his eyes continued to drift to the strange new mineral.

He looked through Julian Verney’s documentation about the patterns of the glow. Verney explained there were, in fact, two different glows—one, a short burst every two hundred and twenty days which had stopped four years ago, and a longer, more concentrated burst every three hundred and fourteen days that last occurred on Boxing Day the previous year. He checked Verney’s chart against a calendar, then went over to the grand orrery he had built. It contained all nine worlds, their orbits around the sun perfectly calculated based on the most recent observations. He checked the last date of the short burst and moved the small copper Earth into the correct position. It was as Nathaniel had expected; the dark side of Luna was in alignment with Phobos. The short burst was, as per his previous supposition, the Heart communicating with the Eye. That the short bursts had ceased over four years ago suggested a rough time when the Eye had died—assuming, of course, the Heart stopped its communication shortly after the Eye’s death. He repositioned the copper planets to match the Earth’s orbit for Boxing Day and considered. The moon aligned with nothing; instead it was directed at a place just to the side of Erebos. Nathaniel rubbed his chin. A world beyond the Solar System, or an eleventh planet they had yet to discover?

It had to be the Drobate’s world. Plypolyplon! The name popped into his head so quickly he had to catch his breath. A name that came from the Heart he felt certain. It was a name he had heard before somewhere, but for the life of him he could not recall where. It mattered little—as with most things it would come to him in due course.

So, the main burst had to be the Heart trying to communicate directly with the Drobates’ lost world. It had to follow that Grant had discovered this in his own studies of the glow.

“Could you bring me those papers?”

Tally looked up from the book, and shook his head in mock annoyance. “Yer gonna make me lose me place,” he said, but nonetheless placed the book down and walked over to the table. “Which papers?”

Nathaniel smiled. The table was rather littered now, what with crystal samples and papers everywhere. “The papers you brought with you,” he said with a rueful tone.

Tally grabbed them and carried them over to Nathaniel. The professor looked at them, and once again checked the orrery. “Yes, if these numbers are correct, and we follow the trajectory of Imperator thus…” He pulled a collapsible ruler from his coat pocket and opened it up. He lined it up, one point touching the tiny copper moon. “Now, the asteroid belt is here, you see?”

“Oh, is that what they are? Thought they were tacks.”

“No, this is a representation of the asteroid belt,” Nathaniel said, pointing at the strange shapes between Mars and Jupiter. He positioned the ruler alongside the asteroids, and opened it up further. The end was now just left of Erebos. “The Russians are on a course for Plypo…um, the Drobate world.”

“Can’t see how that’ll be good for anyone. Now, I’m no scientist, but from what yer tell me about the Drobates, they had a very advanced civilisation once. And this Heart, it comes from there, too?”

Nathaniel nodded.

“Then can yer imagine what the Russians might find there?”

“Barely, but that is the whole point, Tally. The business I have been engaged in since January. Finding a way beyond the asteroid belt, to discover what’s beyond, and return whatever we find to the empire. Before anyone else does, naturally.”

“Anyone else like the Russians.”

“Quite. Which is why we need to get there before them; and that’s where the edwinite comes in.” Nathaniel folded up the ruler and returned it to his pocket. He went back to his table and considered the charts compiled by Verney. “The Heart is trying to communicate with Plypolyplon, and as it is continuing to do so one can reasonably assume it is getting no answer.”

“No-one home?”

“Or is could be that Plypolyplon suffered the same fate as Vulcan.”

“Vulcan?”

“Vulcan, what was once the fifth planet in the Solar System?” Tally gave Nathaniel a blank look. “Good Lord, there are surprising gaps in your knowledge, Tally.”

“Aye, it’s called science. So, what happened to Vulcan?”

“No-one really knows; all that remains of it is the asteroid belt.” Nathaniel shook his head, surprised at Tally. “The point is; I think it more likely the signal isn’t reaching its destination. You see, I believe the connection is broken, like a cut wire in a telephone. The antenna atop the City of Light and Science once connected with the jothrick on the surface, I feel sure. Somehow the city enhanced the Heart’s telepathic call, but at some point the antenna broke and the signal was weakened. We need to fix the connection.”

Tally nodded, then shook his head. “No, yer lost me. Why do we?”

“To warn whoever’s out there that the Russians are coming. Now…” Nathaniel picked up the chart. “The last glow was Boxing Day, and it occurs every three hundred and fourteen days, therefore the next communication will be sent…Good Lord!” He broke into a broad smile. “It’s today, Tally! In five hours according to these charts.” He threw the papers on the table and picked up a scalpel. Once he’d cut off a piece of the edwinite, he looked at Tally, who had returned to the sofa. “This is no time to get comfy. How are you with heights?”

3.

THE TWINS STRODE OFF to the right of the mansion, towards where the hulking black block of the foundry sat outside. She followed the fat backs of the twins through a couple of equally bare corridors, noticing the temperature increasing with each step she took. It didn’t take long before she found herself before a sturdy set of steel double doors, its surface studded unevenly with rivets.

“Ready, brother?”

“I am, brother.”

The two brothers reached into their waistcoat pockets simultaneously and produced two identical-looking keys. The slotted them into the keyholes set on each of the doors, turned them in unison, and pushed the doors wide open.

The heat hit Annabelle like a blow to the face, and instantly she felt herself perspiring. The opened door revealed a darkened corridor stretching away before her, the twins at either side like two chubby fallen cherubs acting as the gatekeepers to some infernal realm. The reek of flint and sulphur wafting from the darkened space did nothing to lessen this impression.

She cautiously stepped over the threshold, her eyes slowly adjusting to the gloom. Set into the walls of the corridor were large, semi-circular recesses dimly lit by hot coals glowing in a broad, shallow crucible. Beside this stood a heavy wooden table—it looked to Annabelle to be the kind of block salvaged from a butcher’s shop, covered in soot and the deep nicks and grooves gouged by heavy cutting tools. To the left of the table stood a large bin that was piled with an assortment of jumbled, interlocking struts of scrap metal, and above this was strapped a large rack on which was hung various tools of the smithy’s trade, all scuffed and worn from a lifetime of careless, hurried use. She could just about see the bent backs of other young men jutting out of the alcoves, their shirts sticking to their backs with sweat, and at the end of the corridor another set of double doors—once more inset with a pair of twin keyholes—could just about be seen in the hellish light.

Annabelle nearly jumped when she felt the presence of the twins behind her.

“‘It is God who arms me with strength and makes my way perfect’,” quoted one brother, presumably Eustace. “You’ll be doing the Lord’s work now, young Andy, making armour for the angels of Earth.”

“Armour?” Annabelle asked. She knew, of course, exactly to what they were referring, but she dare not let them know that.

“The body is a cage for the soul,” continued Eustace, an evangelical blaze alight in his eyes. “Here we create a divine cage for that body, and imbue it with the very spirit of Heaven. Our angels will protect us and those who seek refuge in our community, and from there we will spread our word across the plains of this once great nation, a nation that has turned its back on the true path to the Lord!”

The other twin shook his head condescendingly. “You gotta make a cage,” he said. “A cage for a person to fit in. Don’t ask questions and don’t slack. Here.” He reached forward. On the wall above the table was a hatch which he pushed open, revealing a dangling set of chains attached to a runner on the ceiling which snaked off into the darkness. “When you’ve finished a section, an arm or a torso, whatsoever you’ve done, hang it on the chains and we’ll pick it up on the other side. We’ll let you know when you’re working day is done. We’ll be watching you, boy. Watching you real good.”

It was no wonder these monstrosities came out misshapen and twisted if this was the only instructions the Soup Twins were willing to give. But their slapdash attitude did not diminish the depravity of their corrupted purpose, and as the brothers waddled off towards the door that led into the heart of the foundry, Annabelle pulled on a pair of thick asbestos gloves and started to set her tools down before her. All the while she set about devising her plan of action.

4.

TO THINK THAT SUCH a small quantity could do so much damage. Le Boeuf smiled at the thought. It was incredible, and wondrous. A small cylinder, barely three centimetres across and five long, it contained enough aleksandrite solution to control a mind for a month. He carefully placed the cylinder on the small table and turned to Mortimer, who was washing his hands in the sink.

“…And at the back of the neck is the best place for it, close to the cerebral cortex,” he was saying. “The subject’s hair will hide the cut while the skin heals, and will also conceal the tiny hole that will be needed to administer the monthly top up.”

“Yes, and the cylinder is designed to release minute amounts directly into the brain on a regular basis, keeping the subject susceptible to the influence of a controller, who will be in the possession of the controlling element of aleksandrite.” Le Boeuf picked up the small piece of aleksandrite, fashioned to look like a tiny diamond an inch in diameter. “And how is our subject?”

Mortimer looked over at the operating table in the centre of the room. They were in what had once been a dining room, before the Hall had been expanded and a new, larger, dining room was built. This room was out of the way of the more regularly used areas of the Hall, and thus better suited to Le Boeuf’s purposes. Not that the Hall was occupied excessively at the moment—with Sir Charles away, Mortimer had sent most of the staff on holiday, giving them a much desired chance to visit family in the nearby villages and towns. It did mean they had to largely fend for themselves, but they still had the footman and Delany to do the menial work, and Le Boeuf was quite happy to prepare his own food.

On the table lay Fontaine, barely conscious, the effects of the laudanum still strong. A tube was feeding an aleksandrite solution into his system via a vein in his neck. Le Boeuf walked over to the table, fascinated by the rapid deterioration of Fontaine’s appearance. His skin was taking a pallid tone, his lips becoming parched, sweat starting to drip from his pores. Le Boeuf suspected this was a result of Fontaine’s previous exposure to the substance, and was not indicative of the usual physiological response to aleksandrite.

Fontaine looked around, his dark eyes failing to latch on to anything. Le Boeuf leaned in closer to the table, and spoke softly. “Doctor Fontaine?”

For a few moments Fontaine paid him no mind, his eyes continuing to roam aimlessly. Then he started whispering. “Need to find Nathaniel—must warn him.”

“Warn him of what?”

“He is in danger. Terrible danger, non?”

“He could die?”

“Non!” Fontaine’s face screwed up in pain and he shook his head. “Non, he must not. We must be forever, just him and me. Mère promised, said we would walk together.”

“You and Stone?” It was as Le Boeuf had suspected. Curse Stone and his fortunes. “Tell me more about you and Stone.”

Fontaine shook his head forcefully. “I cannot. Too many people would… Non, I will say nothing more.”

Le Boeuf was impressed. Fontaine was attempting to fight the effects of the aleksandrite. Perhaps the solution was not strong enough. He looked over at Mortimer. “The solution has the same potency as that which Moonsinge used?”

“I cannot say for certain. She was not very forthcoming in her dispatches. But as near as I can estimate, yes, this should be of an equal potency. Why?”

“Perhaps Fontaine is adapting?” It was an alien substance, and their understanding of it was far from complete. Who was to say how quickly the human body would adapt? An idea occurred to Le Boeuf and he picked up the aleksandrite diamond, stepping closer to Fontaine. “Arnaud, hear me. You must tell me everything about you and Nathaniel. When you first met him you were on Mercury?”

Fontaine struggled, but soon the muscles on his face began to relax. “Ah, oui, as soon as I heard he had come to Mercury I wanted to make his acquaintance. To gain his help. But when I saw him…” A broad smile. “So funny, so proper…so English.”

The diamond worked, amplifying Le Boeuf’s will, as Tereshkov had said. The aleksandrite responded to a strong psychic influence. He listened as Fontaine continued to talk, telling Le Boeuf of the adventure on Mercury and meeting Hermes and the way Nathaniel had saved him from drowning. It was then that Fontaine knew he wanted Stone. The story continued, the sadness when Stone left Mercury, meeting his ghost, finding the crystal plate that Stone’s presence had been imprinted upon…

As Fontaine talked, Le Boeuf felt a surge of jealousy, of anger, the resentment of a life denied him. A life that Stone did not deserve.

5.

“COME ON, TALLY! YOU could become the next Haskett Smith!”

Tally looked up. Three hundred feet above him, or so Nathaniel said, was the summit of the City of Light and Science. Less than a mile it may have been, and walking it would have been a piece of pish, but to climb it—corks! To reach the antenna that sat at the top they needed to scale the steep slope that was the roof of the city. A roof made of some crystalline material and quite smooth to the touch. “Who did you say?” he asked, as he tied the rope around his waist, linking him to Nathaniel who had already tied the rope around himself.

“Walter Parry Haskett Smith. I assume you have heard of his ascent of the Napes Needle?”

Tally shook his head. “A climber of some sort no doubt? No, not the kind of thing that’s ever interested me. I get sick to me gills just thinking about the hills in Howth.” He looked around, forcing himself to not look directly down. They were already some eight hundred feet up, and the view was spectacular—or at least he imagined it would be if they were out in the open. As it was all he could see was the River of Life disappearing into the distance, and the rocky wall that surrounded the city. He glanced down despite himself and almost fell backwards from the sudden vertigo. “Jaysus! They look like ants!”

“They are ants.”

“Well, aye, so they are, but now they look like real ants. Even the Drobates.” Tally considered the pick he held in his hand. “You really think this is going to be enough to get us to the top?”

Nathaniel shrugged and slammed his own pick in the roof and pulled back. The pick didn’t move, safely embedded in the crystal surface. With effort he managed to pull it back out. “I think so, yes. Be glad the Drobates allowed us access to the upper storeys of the city, or we would have needed to make use of proper climbing gear and scaled the actual walls of the cavern.”

“Aye, thank heavens for small mercies. I ain’t no mountain goat, and I prefer walking any day. And I hate climbing! But what bothers me more is their reaction to you. Ain’t seen nothing like it before it all me life.”

The only term Tally could come up with was reverence. On their way, after picking up the climbing gear from the tool shed and a crash course in aid climbing techniques should they be necessary, Nathaniel had explained to Tally how no human had been allowed above the twelfth floor of the city’s central tower. Whatever was up there, the Drobates protected it with their lives—literally in some cases when over eager army privates had sought a way to please their colonel by attempting to gain access. Nathaniel had heard of at least three pitched battles on the twelfth floor, costing both Drobate and human lives. By this Tally assumed that there’d be humans elsewhere in the city, various scientists conducting research, maybe a small military presence. It wouldn’t be the first time the British Empire had stepped where it wasn’t wanted, forcing their rule onto a people who neither wanted it nor needed it—not that there was any telling those who ran the empire, of course. It was Calcutta’s Black Town all over again. “She is giving them a rule that has its faults, no doubt, but such, I would make so bold to affirm, as no conquering state ever before gave to a dependent people,” as someone had once said in defence of the empire. It was the conquering part of that which Tally had such trouble with. How could you conquer and help? In Tally’s mind those words just did not go together. Upon entering the city, however, he soon discovered little evidence of humanity, save for the odd scientist conducting rudimentary tests, always observed by a group of female Drobates. Tally had queried this and the only explanation Nathaniel could give was that a few months ago the Drobates had begun to pull away from the humans, restricting their access to the city.

“You mean they had enough of the steel foot of the empire?”

“Not at all. Surprisingly, other than a few skirmishes, they had been treated with respect. But sometime late July the Drobates just stopped helping, and then towards the end of September the Heart itself stopped communicating, too. Based on my calculations it was when Grant was last in contact, just as Imperator passed Luna.”

Tally wasn’t entirely sure he understood about the Heart, although Nathaniel and Quintana had both attempted to explain it to him. A vast alien intelligence—a silver sphere around which the moon was formed, which only communicated telepathically with those who could hear it, specifically Doctor Grant and a dead Russian scientist, although it communicated in a more limited way with a few of the research scientists on Luna who had displayed some latent telepathic ability, including Captain Folkard—a man now lost to them. Science would never be Tally’s bag, and maybe that was why he had such difficulty getting his head around the idea of an intelligent ball bearing—albeit one that was the size of a small planet.

“So, yer reckon it was Grant who silenced the Heart, told it to stop talking?”

At this Nathaniel shook his head. “No, I do not think any person can instruct the Heart. It’s older than life on Earth—why would it listen to a primate with ideas above its station? I do not know the reason for the Heart’s silence, only that it has since started talking… Well I say talking, but it’s not actual words, just a sense of… Hmm, it is most difficult to explain how the Heart communicates. Much like thought… We only attribute words to thought because we have been conditioned to communicate with our mouths using sound, but real thought, that which happens on an unconscious level, has no words to describe it. It follows no linear pattern. Much like one’s dreams. Rarely does a dream follow a logical narrative, but jumps around with no sense of chronology or cause and effect. And that’s how the Heart communicates—with pure thought. Takes some getting used to.”

Tally didn’t get a chance to question the professor further on that subject, although he certainly wanted to. Nate hadn’t been clear, but he seemed to be suggesting that the Heart had communicated with him, and for reasons Tally couldn’t quite explain, the thought that some alien intelligence poked around inside Nathaniel’s head scared the living hell out of him.

It wasn’t the sheer size and scope of the city that stunned Tally into silence, but the looks the Drobates gave Nathaniel as soon as they entered. Even Jappeth Kelp, who had piloted the boat and brought them up the river, gave him the oddest look. It was hard to read the expression of a face that appeared so alien to him, but Tally could read wonder on any countenance. Nathaniel immediately spoke to the tallest Drobate of the three who had greeted them; another female, Tally guessed by the prominent brow. Nathaniel’s words were stilted, as if he were talking to a child, but the Drobate understood him perfectly. Once again a display of their telepathy. Tally rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a strange itch there, and pulled his hand away sharply, stung by a sudden spark of static. He looked back at Kelp, but she had not moved.

Nathaniel continued to talk to the Drobate who, Tally later learned, was called Elseppet Dabi, leader of the electromagnetic cult and administrator of the city. Nathaniel accentuated his small words with frantic hand gestures. Dabi nodded her understanding and waved her arm out, allowing them passage. Nathaniel turned to Tally and informed him that they would not need the climbing equipment they had brought, only the picks and the rope. They left their equipment with Kelp, who would return to the boat to wait for them. Nathaniel walked side by side with Dabi, talking in the strange dialect all the way, leaving Tally to trail behind them. Tally didn’t mind so much, since it gave him a chance to look around the city.

The city opened up around them—it was a curious mix of run-down residential areas and buildings made of the most incredible designs, all from glass. The Drobates seemed to show no difference in how they treated the differing areas; junk and litter filled the streets around the shining buildings just as much as the more run-down residential areas. It looked as if some attempt had been made to clear the streets, with piles of items such as clothes, boxes and odd mechanical apparatus the likes of which Tally had never seen, tidied away in corners, as if waiting to be removed.

After several miles of city, they reached what Tally could only describe as a tube. It ran the height of the tower before them, some fifty storeys if Tally counted correctly from his not so great position at the bottom of the tower. If there were fifty storeys to the central tower, then why did the Drobates not let anyone past the first twelve? What could the remaining thirty-eight house?

“After you, Tally.”

He looked at Nathaniel, who waved him on. “After me where? There’s nowhere to…” He stopped as soon as he saw it. There was an open section at the base of tube. He shrugged, willing to give anything a try, and stepped inside the tube. He looked up. It seemed to stretch up forever. With a bow to Dabi, Nathaniel stepped in beside Tally.

“And what was all that about?”

“Oh, I arranged access to the topmost level of the tower.”

“Yer did what? I thought they didn’t allow any…”

Any chance of finishing that statement was taken away with his breath. Together, as if they were little balls of paper in a straw, they found themselves moving up the tube at great speed. Tally glanced down. They were standing on nothing, and yet they were both still level. Once they emerged at roof level, Nathaniel explained that it was an air compression tube, a form of lift like the kind they had on Earth but without the need for pulleys and winches. More Drobate science that they had no understanding of, but which worked perfectly fine in response to the slightest telepathic command.

Although he was literally at a loss for words, and incapable of expressing those he did have, like Jaysus and shite, he kept his mind sharp as ever, counting each floor as they passed. Once they passed floor twelve he did his best to take in as much detail as he could, but the air compression forced them up even faster as if it was intentionally making it difficult for them to discover the secrets of the upper levels. What they did see, though, was enough to impress and amaze them.

He’d lost count which floor they were up to when he saw it, but he supposed it didn’t really matter. Like balls of light, held aloft by God knows what, were planets. Or at least what he took to be planets; each as different in appearance as Mars was to Earth. They came in all sizes, each rotating around a bright orange light, which reminded him somewhat of the edwinite. A ball of fire. Tally racked his brain…

“It was a sun,” Nathaniel said suddenly, and Tally noticed they had reached their destination. The tube was now beneath their feet and they were standing on nothing, just an empty hole on the rim of the dome-like roof that covered the entire city.

“The sun? Wit yer going on about? I may not be much of one for science, but even I know how many planets we have in the Solar System. And I counted a lot more than nine in that…whatever it was.” Tally had to shake his head. It felt like he’d just witnessed some incredible magic act that his brain just couldn’t reason its way through.

“It was an orrery, much like the one I have in my quarters at Otterbein. Only on a much grander scale using technology we can only dream of.” Nathaniel was looking around, taking in the sheer drop to the right of them. “Do you know, I really do think I have conquered my fear of heights.”

“Aye, well I may not have a fear of heights, but I’m not daft either.” He grabbed Nathaniel by the arm and pulled him as far away from the edge as possible. “This high the winds will have you over the edge as quick as you can say…”

“Tally, we are underground, there is no wind. A flow of air certainly, which in itself should be impossible, but definitely no wind.”

Now Nathaniel mentioned it Tally realised his cap hadn’t moved an inch on his head. “Aye, so it is. Now, back to that there orrery thing. Don’t know about you, but I counted at least fourteen planets, so what do yer mean, it was the sun?”

“As Newton said, ‘if the fixed stars are the centres of similar systems, they will all be constructed according to a similar design and subject to the dominion of one’.”

This left Tally none the wiser. “Dominion of one what?”

“Star. Did you study science at all?”

Tally shook his head and gripped his coat lapels with pride. “I believe I was making out with Bridy that day.”

That at least got a smile off Nathaniel; it wasn’t much of one, but it was start. “Well, quite. Newton was saying that like our sun is one star in the sky, so the other stars must also be suns of other planetary systems. Worlds beyond Erebos.”

“Like that Drobate world?”

It was at that point that Tally turned the conversation to more sensible things, like climbing the roof of the city, which in turn led to Tally’s query about the Drobates reverence of Nathaniel and the awe with which they looked at him.

“We have an…arrangement, it is nothing more than that,” Nathaniel said and turned to the slope ahead of them.

“Oh aye, is that what it is? Wish I had an arrangement like that,” Tally muttered behind Nathaniel’s back, surprised by the flimsy answer he’d been given. It was not like Nathaniel to be so dismissive. Which reminded him… “Have you sent Arnaud a message yet?”

Nathaniel didn’t even glance back. He swung the handle of the pick and imbedded the head into the slope as far above him as his hand could reach. With both hands holding the handle, he pulled himself up, the studded boots he wore giving him the grip he needed. “I have not, no. I have been somewhat occupied.”

“Is that so?” Tally spoke under his breath, joining Nathaniel in his climbing, his own arms much stronger than those of Nathaniel, enabling him to match Nathaniel’s progress with little effort. “I went to see him the other day. He was asking after you.”

Nathaniel glanced at him. “Really, is this the time for such a conversation? We have three hundred feet to climb; I should think our breath would be better suited for that task than small talk.”

“So asking after the health of a friend is now considered small talk, is it? What’s got into yer, Nate? In Dublin we were busy; our lives in jeopardy, but it didn’t stop you from making small talk.”

Nathaniel shook his head, and put all his effort into pulling himself further up the roof. For a while Tally remained silent, his mind racing with concern for his friend. He couldn’t claim to know Nathaniel better than anyone else, but he surely knew the man well enough to recognise when he wasn’t acting right. Quintana had suggested something was different about Nathaniel, and he’d been spot on. This was not the Nathaniel Tally had met in Dublin. He trusted the professor, and that had to be the important thing. Nathaniel obviously had other concerns right now, bigger issues to deal with, and Tally couldn’t pretend he understood them all that well, but he would trust Nathaniel with his life. That would have to be enough.

“How is Arnaud faring?”

Tally was surprised out of his ruminations. “Sure and he’ll be okay, but I’ve seen better looking men after ten pints. His spirit remains, so that’s something.”

“That is good. Tally, I am, of course, concerned about Arnaud, but what can I do? I have been tasked with solving the problem of improving Sovereign’s method of propulsion. The minerals and metals we found on our search have proven useful, and with them the research team on Earth were able to design better boilers, increase the reflectivity of the mirrors so that Sovereign can harness the heat of the sun from a greater distance, but what she needs is speed if she’s ever to get to Plypolyplon before Imperator.”

“Aye, and sure I understand that. Even I agree that it’s better for the British Empire to discover those secrets than Imperial Russia, but we’re talking about Arnaud. I know how ya feel about him, Nate—can’t say that I approve, of course, or even understand it.” He stopped, forcing the distaste in the pit of his stomach to remain there. “But that’s besides the point,” he continued, forcing himself to sound chipper. “He makes yer happy, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned in all me days it’s that happiness is hard to find and important to keep hold of.”

“Arnaud will still be there when I am finished on Luna. And he will join me on the mission ahead—we will have many days to be happy yet.” Nathaniel looked up and pointed to the top of the roof, now only about a hundred and fifty feet away. “I need to examine that antenna, find out if I am right about the glow, how it works, and why.”

“So you can fix it?”

Nathaniel nodded. “If possible. The Heart was killed due to bloodshed before, or at least a part of it was, and Tereshkov’s insanity damaged other parts of it greatly. It doesn’t understand anger and hate—indeed such feelings are anathema to it. It is a source of purity. Imagine what kind of world it came from, what will be there when the Russians arrive. Whatever lies on Plypolyplon has to be made aware that the Russians are coming.”

“Aye, well when you put it like that.” Tally couldn’t really debate Nathaniel’s point, after all he had only just been preaching about the importance of holding on to happiness.

6.

A SHORT TIME LATER they had reached the top. Nathaniel felt bad for misleading Tally somewhat, but there were times when ignorance was the best way to protect others. The top of the roof was a flat surface made of glass, the crystal forming an intricate pattern on its surface, from the edge to the centre where the antenna stood.

Now he was looking at it closer than he’d ever been able to do before, Nathaniel could see that it looked like no antenna he’d ever come across. For a moment he wondered if perhaps he had been wrong all this time. He had viewed it from afar, courtesy of the best binoculars that Otterbein Base had to hand, and it had always seemed to him to be an antenna. But now he was looking closer…

It was made of the same crystal as the rest of the city, standing on a multitude of legs in various positions, reminding Nathaniel of the branches of a… Of course! How stupid of him. They were branches, and the thicker part that came from those branches was the trunk. An upside down tree made of crystal. About three feet up the stump ended, its edges jagged—clearly broken at some point. He walked over to the tree and knelt down. Dust. He rubbed it between his fingers.

“Something happened here, look.”

Tally was looking, but not at the dust in Nathaniel’s hand. He was looking at the glass beneath his feet. “It’s a bloody long way down. You sure this is safe now?”

Nathaniel had not even noticed. Beneath them was a clear view of the city, eleven hundred feet away. A long drop indeed. But there was something about looking at it from this vantage that reminded Nathaniel of something—the way the buildings were laid out. There was a definite pattern to them, a purpose. He shook his head. He was getting sidetracked. He waved Tally towards him. “The glass will hold.” To prove his point he jumped.

Tally held his hands out before him. “You eejit, what yer doing!”

Nathaniel laughed. “It is quite sturdy I assure you. This city has stood for thousands upon thousands of years—almost certainly longer.”

Tally eyed him suspiciously. “Aye, well if yer say so,” he said, and reached into his inner coat pocket. “A wee snifter?”

“Tally, what good will whisky do up here?”

“A world of wonders for me nerves, I reckon.” To prove his point Tally took a sip and handed the flask out. “There, now that’s better.”

Nathaniel shook his head. “No thank you, I shall avail myself of my water shortly. First, come and look at this.” He showed Tally the dust. “What’s left of the crystal trunk. You see how close we are to the roof the cavern?” He pointed up. The black rock was but five feet from where the stump ended. “And if you look closer you can see in that rock…”

Tally’s eye widened. “Green! Oh, corks. Aleksandrite.”

“Yes, the rest of this tree, as Kaplan’s team discovered. This antenna.” Nathaniel wiped the dust from his hands. “I wonder what must have happened? Some feedback, maybe? Too much power exploded the link between this crystal and the jothrick? Hmm.” He rubbed his chin, and untied the rope from around him. “Give me a bunk up.”

Within moments Nathaniel was sitting atop the stump. He ran his hands over the cracked surface. He could feel the power of the crystal vibrating under his touch. This was it—the time of the glow was approaching. “Beautiful,” he said, and pointed to the city below. “Look.”

One by one the crystal buildings lit, suffused with a warm glow. It wasn’t over powering, and probably not even noticeable from the ground—there was no change in the activity below, no discernible difference in those tiny people beneath them—but it was quite amazing. The glow spread, working its way up the walls of the city, until finally the crystal pattern in the glass beneath Tally’s feet began to pulse a soft white.

“Can you feel that?”

Tally nodded. “Sets me teeth on edge,” he said.

A humming; a build up of power.

“Tally, whatever happens next, just stay there.”

Tally asked him what he meant, but Nathaniel didn’t answer. Instead he stood up, removing the edwinite from his pocket. He had to crouch to fill the gap between the trunk and the black rock above. Any time now… He held the edwinite above him so it was touching the jothrick enhanced rock.

It was incredible. Every fibre of his body felt alive—sensations quite alien to him. He could feel it all. Words and thoughts, understanding, that he had never had before. The blood pumping through his veins, the pulse of his heart beating, electrical impulses surging along the neurons of his body, signals from his senses to his brain. For those few moments he understood it all—every cell of his body made perfect sense to him, the connection between the Drobates and the Hearts, the great experiment, the shutdown, every moment for millennia was open to him.

“Kaskuu-Losaa!” he yelled just as the pure radiant life of the Heart surged through him.

And then there was nothing.

7.

“FECKIN’ HELL! NATHANIEL!”

Despite his orders to the contrary, Tally reached up for the professor. But as his hand made contact with Nathaniel’s leg, by which he had intended to pull Nathaniel down from the stump, the green glow dissipated, like a luminescent mist blown away by a strong gale. Nathaniel looked down at Tally with an expression which Tally could only describe as pure bliss.

“It is done,” Nathaniel said, then fell like a puppet released from its strings.