Cogs in Time 2 (The Steamworks Series) Page 11

  “This is an old game, Dom,” the aging guard sighed. “Nonetheless, he’s expecting you.”

  “How?” he asked in surprise.

  Gregory shrugged. “The same way he always expects you.” He turned and started down the corridor toward the High Chancellor’s office. “You took your time coming, I must say.”

  “I didn’t want to disturb him.”

  The guard laughed. “You’re the only disturbance he doesn’t mind.” Gregory stopped and placed a hand on Dom’s shoulder. “Don’t overexcite him. The Chancellor did not take the news of your capture well and has barely recovered. Seeing you at Madam Otterro’s did him good, but he is not a young man anymore.”

  “What are you telling me, sir?”

  Gregory let out another sigh and shook his head. “I’m saying you should’ve called on him sooner, you self-centered zounderkite.”

  Domaroc laughed and nodded. “I know. How has he been?”

  “Worried. I don’t need to tell you a man his age and rank does not need any more stress put on him, and that’s exactly what you did.”

  “It’s not as if I intended for my captain to sabotage the ship and get myself captured,” he muttered.

  The security guard nodded. “I understand, but you need to understand as well, he hasn’t been the same since. For some reason, you’re his favorite and you going missing damn near killed him, Aroc.”

  “No one calls me that anymore,” Dom protested.

  “I do,” a familiar voice stated from the now open study doorway.

  The floor at the end of the hall creaked, and they turned their attention to the lone figure standing there. His grandfather was not a tall man, but he had always held himself in such a way that height was inconsequential.

  As a boy, Domaroc had watched him sway the opinions of powerful dignitaries without raising his voice or backing away from their challenges. That man seemed to be gone as Dom watched his grandfather. Even though he had seen him a few short weeks earlier, the man before him looked impossibly vulnerable in an oversized tweed suit that Dom remembered fitting snug a year previous.

  Grandfather’s shoulders slumped as he leaned heavily on an ivory handled cane. “Stop badgering the boy, Sothren. He hasn’t much time, and I’ll take what little he gives me before he has to ship out.”

  Gregory brought his fist to his chest, above his heart, and bowed his head. “Apologies, Sir.”

  Grandfather dismissively waved his hand at his chief of security. “Come in here, Aroc. We need to talk.”

  Domaroc found himself staring at the ground and nodding, feeling incredibly small in the presence of the old man. He passed Gregory without a look as he went to his grandfather’s office. The curtains were opened to allow what little sunlight that shined through the city’s layer of smog to come in the frosted windows. It didn’t brighten the dark toned room though, and the gaslights were trying to make up for the lack of natural light.

  “Why don’t you go by Aroc anymore?” his grandfather asked as he shut the door behind Dom.

  “Aroc Morris-Lowe was too recognizable,” Dom replied as he went to the silver serving cart and turned over two tumblers, pouring for himself and his grandfather from a large crystal decanter.

  “Aye, it is that. Long before you were born it was.” His grandfather smiled, showing the gaps that had formed along his bottom jaw. “Yet you kept the name Lowe.”

  “Without Morris, no one thought anything of it,” Domaroc stated as he handed the old man his drink, suddenly aware of how unsteady his grandfather’s hands were as the liquid sloshed against the side of the glass.

  Grandfather nodded as he made his way to one of the couches near the window. He motioned for Dom to take the chair across from him before sitting. “You were named after my brother, you know. Maybe that’s why I will always call you Aroc.”

  Domaroc bowed his head, staring into the amber liquid in his glass. “I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

  “Sothren worries too much for me,” Grandfather dismissed. “Your lovely wife kept me informed of your recovery. You did well with her, you know.”

  Dom nodded.

  “Do you know why I like you so much, Aroc? Why, out of all my kin, I prefer you?”

  “No, Grandfather,” Dom replied with a smirk as he took the offered chair. “I know that, out of all of them, I’m the worst.”

  “Bah, that’s not true. Your cousin Winnie is the worst,” Grandfather retorted, rolling his rheumy eyes. “That girl can prattle on about a button like it’s his majesty’s crown jewel.”

  Domaroc laughed.

  “No, lad, you are your own man and the most like me,” Grandfather stood on shaking legs as he made his way to the bookshelf. “You could have everything, simply because of me, and yet, you take very little. Always have. You took advantage of the schooling you were given—the best available—but still, you ran away to join the crew of an airship at fifteen.”

  Grandfather raised his hand to cut off Dom’s protest. “Oh, I know you used that schooling. How else could you have understood the mechanics of the intercept drive of the BethAnna, before it nearly killed you and everyone else because the chief engineer didn’t know clockwise from counter? No, lad, you’ve done well. However, you have more to think about. The baby’s about due, and you’re ready to run for a ship again.”

  “I have to, Grandfather!” Domaroc winced at the force of his own voice.

  “Why?” his grandfather asked as he pulled a leather bound book from the shelf. “What more do you have to prove? Carialis knows what type of man you are. Do you need to prove it to the naysayers who think you were in league with Navarro?” He returned to his couch, setting the book down as he sat. “Or is it you that needs the convincing?”

  Domaroc looked up from his drink, and stared at the old man before him. The soft weariness seemed to melt away, and he saw the firm old man that he had spent hours going over old maps and stories with. The man he could never and would never be able to hide the truth from.

  “Perhaps,” he hedged.

  Grandfather nodded and opened the book. “Did I ever tell you what happened to your namesake?”

  Dom shook his head, finding himself leaning forward to look at the pages of the book.

  “Aroc was a cartographer. I know it doesn’t sound impressive, but he was one of the bravest men that I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. He understood that, even with our airships and our trains, we still knew very little of the world and would venture into the uncharted territories.” Grandfather laughed. “My mother thought him a fool for not just looking down from the basket of a balloon instead of traipsing around on foot.” He found the page he was looking for and held it out to Domaroc. There was a sketched map beside an early foil print of his grandfather as a much younger man beside a gentleman who looked remarkably like Domaroc. “But he needed the ground beneath his feet, the same way you need grease between your fingers.”

  “Why are you telling me this, Grandfather?”

  “Do you recognize the area on the map?”

  Dom took the book and brought it closer to his face. “That’s where my ship went down.”

  Grandfather nodded. “It is also the area my brother was lost in for nearly a year. That’s why it’s so detailed.”

  “Lost?” Domaroc asked, arching an eyebrow.

  “Taken captive by the same clan that took you.”

  Domaroc inhaled sharply. His hand shifted to the collar of his shirt and he undid the first couple buttons, trying to get more air.

  “He was never the same when he came back,” his grandfather continued, not noticing his discomfort. “I suppose it makes sense. When you’re under the watch of your captors you know where you stand, but then...” he paused and shook his head, sitting back he finally met Dom’s gaze. “Then you come back to a society that looks down at you for wearing the wrong colored trousers; the constant scrutiny while trying to adjust,” the old man’s voice faded out and he pulled a handkerchie
f from his pocket to rub at his eyes.

  Dom let the book drop to the floor and gulped down the contents of his glass. “Grandfather, I was only prisoner a few days at most.”

  The old man leaned forward and placed a hand on Dom’s knee. “You were a captive of the Ranar for a few weeks! I saw you when they brought your bloody body home!” His hand tensed, and he took a shuddering breath before shaking his head, as if to dismiss the memory. “But you’ve been a captive to yourself for far longer, lad. You want everything and nothing at the same time, and now it’s all uneven.”

  Domaroc ran a hand over his hair. “I don’t understand.”

  “Think, Aroc. You deny your family name because you wanted to prove yourself, but you cannot stop being who you are. You’ve been cleared by the judges, but the stares of contempt haunt you so you have to start again and prove yourself. Even if it means aboard the ship of the last man you’d rather serve under.”

  “How did you know I was going aboard the Liberation?”

  “Carialis told me,” Grandfather laughed at Dom’s shock. “Of course she knows, lad. You will never keep a secret from that woman, no matter how hard you try. She understands you better than you understand yourself.”

  Domaroc slouched deeper into the couch. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Whether you stay or go, it won’t calm your spirit. It won’t take away the shadows you see. I’d encourage you to take your bride and get far from this city and those who will never understand what you went through. Ali has new design concepts that she will need a mechanic to bring to fruition. Contribute to society in a new way and stop running. Become the man you are meant to be and stop searching for him.”

  Domaroc bit his lip hard. Hearing his actions laid out so blatantly cut him deeply.

  The clock on the mantle chimed the hour, the sound cutting through the heavy tension that had settled on the room. Dom to jerk upright as he realized time was slipping away from him and he still needed to get to the ship. The journey to the dock would take him at least half the remaining time. Still, he didn’t feel like leaving just yet.

  “Did your brother ever find peace?”

  Grandfather nodded. “Well, at least I hope he did. He slipped away one night and wasn’t heard from again. He left a note, but my mother burned it, and I never knew what it said. I figure he’d been a part of the clan too long to be away from it.”

  Domaroc stood. “I can’t stay.”

  “You don’t have to. However, you don’t have to keep running.” Grandfather leaned over and reached for the fallen book with his fingertips. “I’ve rewritten my final papers, Domaroc.”

  “Grandfather?” Dom kneeled before the old man, picking up the book for him.

  “After the rigmarole of charities and what not, you and Carialis get the estates. She’s smart enough to figure out the necessities, but that will give you no excuse to be away from her.”

  “Didn’t you used to warn me about idle hands?”

  “Aye, but I also told you, your wife has designs that’ll revolutionize our airships. Consider this an investment in my country’s future at your expense.” Grandfather cackled.

  “Always a catch,” Dom sighed.

  “Well, you best make up your mind,” Grandfather pulled the book close to him. “It’s going to rain, so make your way quickly. We cannot always expect clear skies.”

  It was a common dismissal from his grandfather, and Dom left without a thought to it. His mind wasn’t silent, as he considered all that he had been told in a short time. He was about to duck down an alley and out of sight of the main road, when his ears were accosted by the screeching of grinding gears in desperate need of lubrication, coming from a large horseless carriage that came to a slow halt before his house.

  The vehicle, almost as large as the steamer trolleys, didn’t need the tracks to operate, making it a source of wonder to many of his gawking neighbors, who had never seen such a beast of a machine in their fine neighborhood. The flat bed was laden down with assorted trunks and other goods going to the docks. Dom nodded approval at the efficient use of the new transports and waved at the ship’s porter as he stepped out of the vehicle’s cab. He was ready to begin again when he noticed a second figure in the passenger’s seat, there was no mistaking the gray beard beneath a swollen nose and Domaroc ran to the man’s side as he stepped down.

  “What are you doing here, Trant?” Dom hissed.

  The captain turned and laughed. “You aren’t the only one shipping out today. I’ve never not wished my daughter a farewell before a voyage. I don’t intend to now.”

  “So you come with the porter?” Dom winced as the officer knocked at his door.

  “Ah,” Trant sighed. “You never told her it’s the Liberation you’re flying on, did you?”

  Dom shook his head. He was keeping so many secrets from Carialis of late, but according to his grandfather, it was all for naught. Desperation had sent him to his father-in-law looking for work. Otherwise, any other captain would have been preferable. He knew that a recommendation from Trant would get him on another ship, but it would require time served. After all, if he could prove his worth to the hardest captain of the fleet—a man who had been outspoken in his dislike of Domaroc—then he must be good.

  Trant’s nose wrinkled in distaste and his hands fumbled before he finally placed a hand on Dom’s shoulder with an overly firm grip. “Consider yourself lucky that my mechanic is on leave for this tour. There are others I’d rather fly with.”

  “Then we are in agreement,” stated Dom as the door opened behind them and Carialis came out onto the steps. He looked over his shoulder at his wife and smiled. “You have a visitor, Love.”

  She smiled, a hand resting on the railing for support as she stepped down to the cobblestones. “Hello, Father.”

  “Cari,” Trant nodded and stepped over to his daughter. “You look radiant.”

  A slight blush crept to her cheeks and Dom couldn’t hide his own smile. Stepping closer to her, he placed an arm around her back.

  She leaned against him briefly before moving away to embrace her father. “Thank you, Father. The Libby is leaving today as well?”

  Domaroc was pleased to see Trant riled by the unofficial nickname of the Liberation.

  The captain was quick to regain his composure. “Yes. Domaroc’s new captain asked me to pick up Dom’s trunks since I was so close.”

  “Ah,” Carialis replied and smirked.

  “What is it, love?” Dom asked.

  She shook her head and laughed. “It’s nothing. I just find it funny that the both of you thought you could keep something from me.”

  “Whatever do you mean?” asked Trant.

  She rolled her eyes at the both of them, her hands up and out to cease argument. “Stop! I know that Dom’s working on the Libby, Father.” She stepped forward, poking a finger into Domaroc’s chest. “And you, spending all that energy trying to convince me you’d never serve with my father.” She shook her head. “Do you really think you could keep it from me?”

  He bowed his head, feeling ashamed that he had even tried.

  Carialis brought her hand up to grip his chin, forcing him to look at her. “Your pride will be your undoing, Dom. There’s no shame in using your connections.” Her head inclined toward his grandfather’s home. “What happened with Navarro will take time to be forgotten, but a single tour with my father will help.”

  Dom snorted. “Because serving under my wife’s father helps my cause.”

  Trant shook his head, exhaling loudly in the process. “Cari made her own name as an engineer, and that is who most people believe you married. Only the high society knows she is my daughter. That judge didn’t know, and she was Navarro’s whore!”

  “Father! Rihanna deserves more respect than that,” Carialis admonished.

  “Regardless,” Trant continued. “Domaroc, you’ve spent you’re life fighting against your birthright.”

  Domaroc turned to Carialis
before Trant could continue. “I have been a fool.” He took her hands in his. “You brilliant, mad woman, how do you put up with me?”

  “Gracefully,” Carialis replied with a laugh and leaned forward to kiss him on his cheek. “You spoke with your grandfather?”

  Domaroc nodded and let go of her hands. Turning to Trant, he gave a sharp salute. “I am sorry to leave you without a mechanic on such short notice, Captain, but I will not be shipping out with you.” He dropped his hand, inclining his head to Carialis before continuing. “I have another duty to attend to.”

  Trant nodded. “About bloody time you did! I’ll let Jamison know he’s got his position back.”

  Ali tilted her head to the side. “I thought he was on leave,” she stated quizzically.

  “Hardly,” scoffed Trant. “I demoted him, so your fool husband could get back to work. Jamison was supposed to make sure everything was in order and report to me.” Trant shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Domaroc. “Did you really think I’d let you alone in my engine room?”

  “Still don’t trust me, Captain?”

  “Oh I trust you. I let you marry my daughter, didn’t I? But, when it comes to the Liberation, that is another matter entirely.” Trant loudly whistled to get the attention of the porter, who was halfway down the stairs with Dom’s trunks. “Put that back, he’s staying here and we’re past due at the docks.” Without waiting for a reply, the captain turned to his daughter. “Take care, dearest, I’ll see you and your babe after the tour.” He hugged her and turned to Dom, the kindness he had exhibited toward Ali hardening as he shook her husband’s hand. “You have started a new journey, and you have the perfect navigator for it,” Trant stated with a nod toward Carialis.

  Domaroc couldn’t help but laugh at the kindest words his father-in-law had ever spoken to him. “Clear skies, Captain. May there only be clear skies ahead for all of us.”

  Darkened Love

  Monica Reents

  Strolling along damp, dark brick streets