The rat – or rather, the rats – lead me through the Academy. It's close to midnight, and I can't make out much. Only the main avenue is visible, lit by Volt lamps strung from beams. Like floating fires, they guide the way to the Academy's heart.
Keath once told me that all of Lumenhaven, the city under Voltrum Trust's control, glows as bright at night as in the day. I find that hard to believe. The sun can't be replicated. Not by machines, and certainly not without Steamer abilities.
Zig, that's the name of my small guide, keeps changing bodies. One rat disappears, another slips from the shadows to take its place. I call them all Zig. They're probably the same being anyway.
More precisely, they're constructs. Steambeings of the Steamers.
The Singing Raven, by contrast, is the Bloodbeing of the Bleeders of House Redsong. So I assume Zig belongs to Director Gearford.
I can only make out silhouettes of buildings. Some look as though someone built a jungle of pipes, soot, and steel, then lost interest and slapped a church spire on top. Here and there a little hut, no taller than myself, rattles faintly as if alive. Bridges and rising platforms web everything together into a sprawling, bottomless spider's nest.
It's too much. If people were walking these streets, I'd surely collapse into a panic. Even the stillness of night offers no calm. Steam hisses, gears grind, smoke swallows the stars.
I keep catching myself stepping out of the artificial glow of the lamps, slipping toward the shadows where no one can recognize me. Zig always pulls me back.
"These are all training facilities," Zig explains, its voice not truly alive. "Where you came from, you'll find the dormitories. Behind them lies the train station. That's where you were found. You likely don't remember."
I nod, though I'm not sure if Zig notices. Perhaps another Zig, watching from some alley, does.
"Where is the Director?" I ask.
"At the top of the clock tower. Look up."
The tower is impossible to miss. At first glance, I thought its glowing peak a false moon. Looking closer, I see the giant illuminated clock face, so bright it dazzles even from far away.
"What's that beside it? Near the top."
"The airship dock."
"I see."
Zig makes a sound I can only call a mechanical question.
"You don't sound surprised. Have you seen airships before? They're rather rare in the cities."
They were there, tearing the skies with smoke and cannonfire.
"I saw them from afar."
Zig keeps scuttling – or rolling – forward without pause."We see. Victoria Blackwood said you're from Copper City, yes?"
I nod. Zig continues.
"Copper City doesn't have an airship dock."
Curses. Careless. I scramble for an explanation, scolding myself all the while.
"On my work as a steward. Along the train line," I say.
"Ah, but there you're mistaken." Zig's voice perks with delight. "You're no trainman anymore. You are now a student of Gearford Academy. Here we are."
That Zig slips away behind me. Suddenly the door to the clock tower swings open, and another Zig waits inside.
"We'll take the lift. We are not made for stairs," it says.
The lift is a cage. Without me touching anything, the door clanks shut the moment I step in. With a jolt beneath my feet, the floor begins to rise.
We climb. The air thickens. Smoke stings my throat, nearly visible in the gloom. My conviction crumbles. Again the fearful part of Arth Carter takes hold. What if the Director unmasks me?
No, I tell myself. I have a purpose. Hold fast.
The lift stops. The grinding of the cage door rattles down my spine.
"The door at the end of the hall. Simply enter," Zig says.
"Thank you, Zig."
"No trouble. You'll find me anywhere on the grounds. Just call. We are everywhere."
I nod, recognizing both the help and the threat behind it. Nothing here happens without the Director's knowledge. This is his home; I am only a guest.
Without further thought, I walk the corridor. It stretches endlessly before me. It is testing me. Testing whether the thoughts in Room 94A belonged to Arth Carter's dream, or to the will of Alaric Redsong.
At times I no longer know who is thinking.
But I've made my choice. I will survive this Academy, if only to find the assassins who tried to kill Victoria Blackwood in my name.
My hand takes the latch of the door. It no longer trembles.
I step inside and immediately understand where I am. Behind the colossal clock face at the tower's peak. No visible light sources, yet the room glows. Shelves of books and framed papers cover the walls, towering as high as the old Redsong dining hall once did. At the far end, before the clock face, stands a great oak table. Alone, as though the table itself were worthy of undivided reverence.
Behind it sits a man in a long coat of black and gold. The golden gear of Gearford Academy is stitched on his shoulder. With the clock blazing behind him, he's little more than a silhouette waiting for me.
"Arth Carter!" the Director says, rising. "You cannot imagine my joy at welcoming you to my Academy!"
"The honor is mine, Director Gearford–"
He cuts me off, brimming with energy.
"Even after all those years, life manages to throw me off again. You may have fooled my companion Zig, but now that I see you, there is no doubt."
What.
"Never did I dare dream to stand before the last surviving Redsong again."
Run. I must run.
The Director circles the oak table, stepping free of the glare to approach. He halts a few paces from me.
I know him. I recognize him.
My former tutor, Vasht, spreads his arms wide in welcome.
"How good it is to see you alive, Lord Redsong."