WYLIE WAS WELL AWARE of the stares that followed her as she hurried along. She kept her eyes focused downward, to avoid making eye contact with anyone. She purposely crossed to the other side of the street to keep from passing Dobbinsturn's well-known brothel, 'The Tainted Lady.' No clever disguise in the name, no trying to hide what went on behind its mahogany doors. The raucous laughter from within the building, crawled up Wylie's spine like a parasite. It seemed to whisper to her subconscious; this is where you'll end up if you don't stop Lord Jameston.
Wylie quickened her steps, her eyes darting this way and that in the hopes of finding a clockmaker. She had passed one on her way in, but aware that she was still in the parish of Lugwallow, she decided against taking any chances. Then, just up ahead, the sun glinted off a sign.
'The Handy Ticker.'
Well, that seems promising enough. She had to cross the street again, but since she was well past the brothel, she took a deep breath and hurried to the door. A rusting faux gold handle allowed the door to open under pressure from her fingers. She stepped inside and gasped. Such an array of clocks, watches, and clock faces. The simultaneous ticking sounds overwhelming as she entered the tiny but well-kept store.
"Hello?" she inquired pleasantly; though she didn't see anyone immediately, her eyes fell on a case of polished, second-hand pocket watches. She stepped closer to them, admiring the lovely images of fairies, trains, and other themes that adorned the cases. None looked like the item she carried in her utility belt pocket.
"May I help you miss?" An elderly gentleman emerged from a narrow doorway, wiping oil from his fingers with a tattered brown rag. He gave her a stern up and down before coming from behind the counter to face her.
"Yes, um..." worried that the gentleman would assume she had stolen the rare item, she glanced down at the case. "I was looking for a special pocket watch." The word 'special' caused his eyebrows to arch.
"Don't think we carry anything particularly 'special' here, miss.
"Sir, you misunderstand. My father had a special watch ... perhaps an heirloom, I'm not sure."
"Did you break it, lass? I can certainly try to fix it; it would be cheaper than replacing it." She felt her heart racing faster, fear welling in the back of her throat. If he thought she was a thief, or if he tried to take it from her, there was nothing she could do.
"Well, no, not exactly. I have it. I just wanted to know more about it and what it might be worth. My father passed recently, and it's all I have left that was his." The shopkeeper studied her face, his elderly wrinkled face crinkling at the corners of his mouth as he smiled at her.
"Well, let's see what we can find out, lass. I'm not going to take it from you if that's what 'yer 'fraid of. I've more than my share of clocks and pocket watches... more than I know what ta' do with." Still, she hesitated to reach into her utility pocket. "Miss, if ya need help, I may be one of the few around here you can trust." He stood only a couple of inches under her five foot five. He looked harmless enough, and she reckoned she could deal with him if he tried anything.
Moving slowly, Wylie unlatched the flap on the pouch at her hip and pulled out the pocket watch. She hadn't taken time to study it in the daylight, and now she saw that she was right to be worried about it being taken from her. The exquisite details on the bronze dragon adorned the front nearly took her breath away. So shocked was she by its ethereal beauty that she dropped it, and it hit the floor with a re-sounding thud. Afraid she had broken it, she hurriedly picked it up and was relieved to see it was still in one piece. The heavy bronze metal case seemed sturdy enough to withstand rough treatment.
The dragon's eyes on the face were made of impeccably cut rubies. Tiny green emeralds adorned the tips of the wings, and traces of gold outlined every groove. It was the most glorious item she had ever held in her hands, and she clung to it fiercely, afraid to place it on the counter, afraid the shopkeeper would see its value and take it from her.
"Well, let's have a look, shall we?"
She stood paralyzed, unable to move or speak. "Well?"
She glanced toward the door, wondering if it would be best for her to run out of the shop right then and there.
"You're a bit skittish, aren't you, lass?" It was now or never, she didn't even think, as she thrust the exquisite item onto the counter. She kept her eyes on the pocket watch, hardly daring to blink, half expecting the watchmaker to flee at any moment.
"Hmmm," he said, "Interesting ... lovely ... oh my ... Simply delightful!" He continued, praising the thing, as he studied it through various lenses attached to his goggles. "Well, miss, I can see why you were skittish, but I assure you have nothing to fear from me. However, I would not leave this shop without hiding this securely." She nodded her head up and down. He went back to examining it, finally popping it open. His eyes opened wide in surprise when the wings unfolded. He stared in fascination, just as she had, at the moon and star face that took the place of an everyday timepiece. She watched as he fiddled with the small brass knob at the top.
The wonderment that shone from his eyes was like a child playing with a new toy for the first time. She heard the gentle whirring as the small gear lifted mechanically from the wings.
"Curious." The flat gear had taken its place over particular points of the dragon that was contained inside the moon's face. He gently closed the device and handed it back to her. "Well, my dear. That is certainly no pocket watch."
"Then you know what it is?"
He shook his head at her question. "I'm afraid I don't, lass. Listen to me, you were right to want to know its worth, but I would discourage you from trying to sell it. I rarely see such artistry anymore. It seems a waste to trade for something as temporary as money. You say it was your father's?"
She nodded.
"Don't give it up ..." He paused, an unspoken question hanging in the air.
"Uh ... Wylie sir, my name is Wylie Petford. My father was Nicholas Petford," she stuck out her hand. His face crinkled as he took her hand in his, lips turned up in a friendly smile. She hadn't known her grandfather, but she decided he would have been much like this man. Kindness and hard work etched into his face.
"Name is Piercy. Piercy Webster. Clockmaker, gadget lover, and trustworthy as they come."
She smiled back at him, glad she had made the right choice to show him the item.
"Well, Mr. Webster, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I've yet to decide if I will sell it or not. Please, can you tell me what it might be worth?"
"'Fraid I can't help lass. Seeing as how I don't know what it is. If you ask me, it's still a pocket watch in some respects. I'd say, however, that it's a watch for the stars. It leads up to something; I can see that. Though I don't know what that something is, don't know if 'ya noticed, but all the dots on the gear mechanism lined up perfectly with the dragon inside the glass face."
She nodded again, "I did notice that; what do you think it means?"
"Well, now that ... that I don't know. Can't even speculate about what it could be."
"Well, what do you think I should do?"
"That's a good question; give me a moment to think. Ah! I know just the man."
"You do?" she responded.
"Yes, a good friend of mine. Trustworthy, honest. Last of his kind, really, owns a shop over towards Kinnemore. You'll want to wait until tomorrow to go, as it's getting late. A young lass like yourself, shouldn't be on the streets at night."
"I understand, but I'm afraid my well-being, as well as the well-being of many others, is at stake. I must figure something out as quickly as possible. If I cannot sell it, Lugwallow may be in trouble." She expected him to ask questions, but he merely mumbled something and pulled out a bit of thin parchment to write on.
"Here, the man I'm sending you to, he's an inventor of sorts. He knows everything about everything. You're gonna exit my shop and head left down Hertforshire; you keep on until you reach Windmill Ave., take a right on Windmill. You know Windmill can go on forever, so pay close attention. You're going to make a left on Auburn, and his shop is there. If anyone can help, you, he can. He's a bit mad, but don't hold that against him. The man lost his wife and daughters to a sudden illness. He's holed himself away in his shop ever since. He's the only one I know that won't try to lay a finger on ya' or steal this out of your cold, dead, hands. Keep it close, ya hear me?"
She nodded again.
"Another thing, lass, you're gonna need this." He reached under the counter and pulled out a beat-up old derringer. "She may be old, but she's still got a bit of fight left in the 'ol girl." He shoved the gun in a leather holster and handed it to her. Take good care of her, won't ya?"
"Mr. Webster... I can't take this! I have no money. He put his hand up to stop her.
"Now I don't recall asking for payment, but if yer worried about that, you can stop by again and let me know that yer alive. Tell me if ya found out anything about that odd contraption, eh?"
She nodded her head vigorously. "What about you? Don't you need to protect yourself ?"
"No worries, lass. I have my trusty old flintlock. Darn thing has been with me more years than I can remember." He pulled it from beneath the counter as if to reassure her. "I'll be all right. Now, you git. Don't forget to step back in and say hello, ya understand?"
With a smile that lit up her face, she thanked him again, grabbed the paper, and followed the route he had laid out for her.
He had even marked in some of the shop names and a couple of statues, so she could keep better track of where she was. At the top of the page, he had written a name:
Dr. Hubert Mullings, Scientist, and on the map, had written out the name of the shop: 'The Dusty Gadget' and marked it with an arrow.
Oh heavens. I still have the chores to do at the stables. I'd better do that now, and maybe I'll have time to visit Dr. Mullings afterward. Wylie glanced up at the clock over Mr. Webster's shop. It's only 10:30; I should have plenty of time.
By the time Wylie had walked across town to Lord Adrian's, she realized she hadn't eaten yet that day and was starving. She made a little side trip to the mansion's rear and knocked on the kitchen door. Nora, the cook, was one of the few staff in Lord Adrian's employ who liked Wylie.
"You just come on in and set yourself down, girl," said Nora, "I've got just the thing for a hungry young lady."
In no time, Wylie was spooning up steaming hot onion soup and stuffing down great slabs of fresh buttered bread. "You're a marvelous cook, Nora. This is food fit for a king."
"Ah, get away with ya. It's just plain fare, but it will surely fill that empty spot." The grin on her face did little to hide her pleasure at the compliment.
It took much longer to complete the stable chores than Wylie had anticipated, so by the time she was done, it was already late afternoon. She debated whether to put off her visit to Dr. Mullins till the next day but then remembered the pocket watch and how anxious she was to learn more about it.
Dobbinsturn was three times as large as Lugwallow; her destination was almost to Kinnemore, so it was already dark when she arrived in front of "The Dusty Gadget." She could see one lighted lamp through the front window, which seemed to be the only sign of activity in the place.
Oh, dear. What was I thinking, coming here so late in the day? A lone carriage rolled by, the driver tipping his hat to her. She nodded back, looking around for anyone who might be of help. To her dismay, she was nearly alone. A tall man with a large top hat walked by, not to be mistaken for a lady of the night; she bit her lip, looked to the ground, and didn't say a word. The chill of the evening was gradually creeping in, so she finally got up her nerve and knocked on the door. No answer. "I should've known that." She said aloud, as she tried the latch, pleased to find it unlocked, and stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "Stupid girl," she cursed herself. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Yes, what indeed?" A man appeared, quite suddenly, holding a lamp. His face was illuminated by its gentle glow, making him seem almost ghostly, and she tripped over her words.
"Oh dear me... oh, heavens. You must be the Hubert... er... Scientist doctor. Er Dr. Hubert Mullings, Scientist." She was shaking so badly from nerves and cold that she could barely speak properly.
"Yes, I am Dr. Mullings. How did you hear of me?" His voice softened to low tones, and for whatever reason, possibly her overactive imagination, she felt suddenly afraid."
"Mr. Webster sent me. He said you were a good friend and that you would be able to help me. He promised me that you were a good man," she added, almost as if placing blame on Mr. Webster if Dr. Mullings turned out to be anything but.
At the mention of Mr. Webster's name, the doctor's face softened instantaneously.
"Mr. Webster? Still alive after all this time?" he laughed a hearty laugh. "That man was like a father to me, growing up." She watched with interest as he seemed to retreat far off into his memories.
"Indeed, I'm sure he was. He spoke very highly of you. So, I must ask... would you be willing to help me?"
He didn't respond immediately but turned away from her and walked back towards the shadows of his gadget shop. The lamp light wasn't bright enough to see what he was doing, the moonlight through the windows too dim to see more than a few feet in front of her.
"Dr. Mullings?" her voice trembling. Never one to be intimidated, she took a step forward, but the sound of feet walking about stopped her suddenly. Realizing she knew nothing of this man, she froze on the spot, hoping against hope that the man would do her the courtesy of answering. It felt like the shop grew darker every second, and her fears grew along with it. She could hear sounds and some movement where he was but resolved not to call out again. Obviously, he was busy, and she found herself moving backward toward the entrance.
A fast getaway seemed to be her best recourse at the moment. It was nighttime, and she was alone with a strange man. She had been a fool to come here. Another step back, and she would be able to turn and run back out the door from whence she'd come.
At that precise moment, the entire shop lit up. Dr. Mullings stood near a switch on the wall; she almost laughed in relief... He had only retreated to turn on the light! Her nerves started to calm a bit; she could tell he was fussing with something near the light, another lever of sorts? She heard a gently cranking as a sort of tube lowered onto the wall-mounted lantern that so brilliantly lit his shop.
In the next moment, a sprinkling of color erupted above her fiery red hair, and her gaze was immediately drawn to the ceiling. An array of prismatic colors danced on the ceiling; brilliant red, blue, yellow, and green hues caused her to gasp in delight.
Wylie was utterly transfixed. Never before had she seen such a dazzling array. She walked towards the lamp on the wall to study it more closely, noticing the elegant glass shade on the base but seeing nothing else to account for how it gave off such voluminous pigment.
"Dr. Mullings, how did you do that? How do you cause the light to change like that?"
"Don't be silly, m'dear. I didn't cause the light to change." He stuck his hand out to pull a small lever affixed to the wall. Pulling it downward, she heard the sound of pulleys and cranking as the lamplight changed color again. Once again, to her delight, the ceiling erupted in a profusion of gorgeous hues, a mixture of purples and oranges, dancing about like a magic light show. It lit up the doctor's workspace and a variation of doodads and baubles around the shop that were undoubtedly his inventions in various stages of completion.
"What you see is the effects of what is called a kaleidoscope, only on a much larger scale. When I was a young lad, around 1816, I attended college with Sir David Brewster. A man of passion, he and I hit it off well; in fact, you might say that his little invention was our combined effort. However, most would attribute the invention to him.
You came in as I was getting it ready for its first test run, but what I'm working on here is integrating the Kaleidoscope for use on modern lamps. I have used Sir Brewster's concept, which is what that tube is on the lamp," he paused to gesture towards it.
"I see. Please, how do you change the colors that emanate on the ceiling?" her curious mind, always wanting to know how things functioned. No doubt a characteristic she had inherited from her father.
"You can't see the bauble at the end of these wires that are connected to this lever, but every time I pull this lever, the small clicking sound you hear, is color discs on a small tray above the lamp, which rotates and changes. I realize you can't see the disc tray, as the glass shade and kaleidoscope tubing hide it, but that's what makes it so dazzling."
"It may not be as practical as Singer's newfangled sewing machine, but it's not as boring either. While all of London frolics about under white lights, I have taken a step toward the future! Imagine the Queen, displaying my light show in her ballroom? It will be extravagant! Extraordinary!" His face lit up with the sparkle of what the future may hold, and for a minute, Wylie was able to visualize it. Though she assumed it would be something only the wealthy could afford. She knew she had been given the gift of seeing it with her own eyes and surely would never forget it. "I see. Well, the whole system is marvelous beyond words, Dr. Mullings."
"Are you an inventor?"
She laughed and shook her head. "A maker of things, perhaps, but nowhere near what you're doing here. My father was not an inventor either, though he was good with his hands and created quite a bit of beautiful furniture and other necessities. Which is why I'm quite perplexed at this..." It was now or never. She reached into her utility pocket and pulled out the device to show him. "This is what I found in a secret compartment in a dresser my father had built. I don't know what it is, though it looks like a pocket watch. It's the reason I went to visit Mr. Webster today and why I am here to see you. Do you think you'll be able to help me?"
Her resolve grew as she repeated her request for the second time that day, and her fear lessened. If he couldn't help her, she would search the world over until she found answers or fetched a reasonable price for the gadget.
His eyes widened when he saw it, and gingerly taking it in his hand, he turned it over and over in his hands. Inspecting every detail, admiring the diamonds, emeralds, and gold filigree. When he opened it, his jaw dropped, and he stood quite still for a moment, just staring at the dragon in the center.
"This is quite the loveliest thing I have ever seen."
"Yes, 'thing' is quite right. Do you not know what it is either? Mr. Webster said it's not a pocket watch." She crossed her arms over her corseted top, diligently watching his every move.
"Yes, well, he was right in that respect," he said, coming across as a little out of breath. "It's quite magnificent. It looks like a constellation finder or some sort of dragon summoning device. Of course, that's silly, though."
Dragon summoner? The idea made her giggle, and he cast her an irritated glance.
"I was just merely stating what it looked like. I wasn't saying that's what it is."
Oh, he's a bit mad. That's for sure.
"Here, take this," he placed it back in her hand and turned his back to her again. This time, she was able to watch his every move since his system of lights lit up the little gadget shop like a palace parade. He retrieved a book from a shelf full of books and set it down on his worktable, flipping quickly through the pages. Not finding what he was looking for, he grabbed another.
That book didn't have what he needed either, and soon he was surrounded by books of all shapes and sizes. Passing over several more, Dr. Mullins ran his hand over their spines before he finally grabbed a rather worn leather-bound tome. It was larger than a standard book, with leather straps bundling it closed.
She had never seen its equal, and it was her turn to be shocked into silence. He shoved several volumes out of the way and laid them down, unlatching the buckles and pulling out a piece of paper from its beginning that had been neatly folded and tucked inside the cover. He beckoned her to come over to him, and she complied. "Read this. I don't care how long it takes you." His eyes had taken on a crazed, half-cocked stare.
His tone was more than just insistent, so not wanting to risk pushing him over the edge, she simply responded with a polite, "Yes, of course." She stood next to him, pulling the book closer, as he walked away, disappearing into a back room.
Her heart now beating rapidly, she worried about what she would find in its pages. As she opened it, the first rough page had nothing on it but a hand-written inscription.
DRAGALETH:
Said to be a myth, Dragaleth refers to the race of dragons who are in charge of the balance of good and evil on Earth. The Dragaleth is a combination of two dragons. One of the order of Teselym and the other of Siapheg. Teselym protects humanity from evil and executes justice when necessary. The Teselym enacts the balance of good. Siapheg brings evil and ensures that society will never be entirely free from the sadness of death, betrayal, and lies.
The Dragaleth are said to be controlled by the gods, but their existence has never been historically proven. The story of Dragaleth surfaced in the 1400s when a lone survivor of a ship carrying the black plague wrote his account of the events leading up to the darkest age in history.
Perplexed, she flipped to the first page. An illustration there stopped her in her tracks. She knew now she needed to do as the Doctor had asked and read what was inside. There was no turning back.