Steven Harper - The Impossible Cube

“Excusez-moi!” Another woman Alice hadn’t noticed stepped out of a doorway. “Etes-vous qu’elle?”

Alice started, and her light mood evaporated. “Am I she, who?” she asked cautiously, also in French. The woman was young and very pretty, with enormous blue eyes.

“The one who cures people,” she clarified. “People with the plague.”

The airship-cum-wagon was pulling out of sight, but if this woman also needed help, Alice didn’t see how she could refuse.

“I am she,” she said.

The woman abruptly caught Alice in a hard embrace. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you. You are an angel.” She broke away, suddenly embarrassed, and said, “But where is your friend?”

“My friend?”

“The one whose music gives you power to cure them.”

“Oh.” Alice thought about correcting her, then thought the better of it. “He’s… he’s nearby.”

“There are more who need you. Many more. Can you come? Please?”

The airship was curving away, nearly gone. Alice chewed her lip. She was still angry, but she wasn’t stupid, either. “I can’t come right now, but I will, I promise. Where?”

“To the Church of Our Lady,” she said, “at the top of the hill in the center of the city. Ask for Monsignor Adames.”

“I promise,” Alice repeated, and ran back to the clattering airship. At the front with the horses, Dr. Clef was telling Nathan, “The closer one comes to its position in time, the farther one wanders from its position in space.”

She had just reached the ladder when a trio of men on horses cantered around the corner, the horses’ iron-shod hooves clattering on the cobblestones. The men wore smart blue uniforms, and one of them carried a torch. The woman fled into the shadows.

“You!” one of the men shouted at the airship in French. “Halt!”

Nathan and Dr. Clef stopped the team. Gavin poked his head over the gunwale, a startled and worried expression on his face. Alice hurried up the ladder, her hands chilly with apprehension.

“Where were you?” Gavin hissed at her.

“Never mind,” she whispered back. “Get out that nightingale.”

“What?”

“Just do it!”

“Yes, Officer?” Nathan asked pleasantly, also in French. He sucked at his pipe with outward calm, but Alice could see tension in him. Dr. Clef had slid to the side of the team opposite the two police officers and was keeping his head down, away from the torchlight.

“What are you doing out at this hour?” the first man snapped. He was older, and wasn’t carrying the torch.

“We are with the circus and had to move one of our cars,” Nathan replied. “It was the only time the tracks were free.”

“Where are your papers?”

“Here, sir. All signed and stamped.” Nathan drew a set from his pocket and handed them over. The man with the torch held the light so his superior could examine them. The third man took his horse around the other side of the disguised airship, clearly to make sure no one slipped away and vanished. Alice held her breath, hoping they would take the explanation and leave.

The officer gave the papers only a cursory glance. “We have reports of certain dangerous criminals from England and America. A woman with brown hair and a younger man with pale blond hair.”

“I was afraid of that,” Gavin whispered. “The Third Ward has connections all over Europe. Phipps must have talked to the police.”

“I’m from Ireland,” Nathan said.

“What about him?” The older officer pointed at Dr. Clef, who was still huddled behind the horse.

“He’s mute, and an idiot,” Nathan said. “His mother was a sideshow freak and he was born funny, but horses love him.”

“I still need to search this wagon,” the officer said.

Alice’s heart beat fast now. Before she could lose her nerve, she shouted over the gunwale in her heavily accented French, “What is wrong down there? We should not stop for long, you know.”

“Who’s there?” the lead officer called up. He drew a sword. “Show yourself!”

Alice tied a handkerchief over her hair in an impromptu head cloth and peered over the side. “I am Lombarda, lion tamer extraordinaire. Who are you?”

“Lieutenant Ovrille of the Grand Ducal Police,” he said. “Come down immediately! We are searching the wagon!”

“If you like,” Alice called back. “But the lion, he will not be happy.”

Ovrille paused. “What lion?”

“The cage, it has broken, you see. That is why we are using this wagon. The lion, he is up top, and I have no leash or cage right now, and it is far past his mealtime. He is quite hungry. Fortunately, he does not feel women are a threat, no?”

The other officer, the one with the torch, looked uncertain. “Sir-,” he said.

“Our orders are clear,” Ovrille said stubbornly. “We are to search everything even remotely suspicious.”

“Yes, yes,” Alice called. “Please come up, then. But make no sudden moves, especially if you ate meat for supper. I do not know how much longer I can keep him quiet.” She changed her tone of voice, as if she were speaking to a child. “Can I, baby? No, I cannot. I just cannot keep ums quiet!”

Ovrille dismounted and reached for the rope ladder hanging over the side of the airship. Alice gestured sharply at Gavin, who fumbled with the nightingale and finally managed to press its right eye. It opened its beak and the lion’s roar from the previous evening’s parade snarled through the night, a little quiet but realistic enough. Ovrille froze.

“No, no, no,” Alice cooed loudly. “It is all right, little one. The man is not here to hurt you. He is not for you to bite. You must sit quietly and let him-”

Gavin pressed the nightingale again, and it played the roar a second time. Ovrille snatched his hand away from the ladder as if the rungs were hot pokers. The officer with the torch backed his horse away, as did the man who had gone to the opposite side of the airship.

“What are you doing?” Alice said. “I believe I have him under control. Come up now before he again becomes angry.”

Another roar. Ovrille went back to his horse. “Yes, well,” he said. “I think we can let it go this time.”

“Are you sure?” Alice said. “We would not wish for you to get into trouble. If you let him lick your hand first, he probably won’t bite.”

“Just go,” Ovrille ordered.

“Huh. As you wish, then.”

Nathan tapped the horses, which jerked forward, and the airship creaked along the tracks. Once the officers were out of sight, Alice blew out a long breath. Every muscle went limp and she collapsed to the deck.

“I never want to do that again,” she half sobbed, half giggled.

“You thought it was bad for you.” Gavin sank to the deck beside her. “I had no idea what you were saying and had to guess about making the nightingale roar.”

“Good that you’re intelligent, then.”

There was a long pause. Alice wanted to say something more, except words wouldn’t come. The anger curled around her heart like a dozing tiger and held everything in. Alice envied Gavin’s easy way with words, how he could say whatever was on his mind.

After a while, Gavin brought his cupped hands with the nightingale in them to his face. When he brought them down again, he tossed the nightingale into the air. It spread its wings and fluttered about for a moment, then flitted over to settle on Alice’s shoulder. Alice knew that the nightingale, meant to carry recorded messages, would fly back and forth between the last two people who had touched it. The moment it landed, the little bird sang in Gavin’s voice.

I picked a rose, the rose picked me,

Underneath the branches of the forest tree.