Clockwork Angels: The Novel Read Online Free Page A

more efficiently.” He shuffled his papers, seemed embarrassed. “Sorry, that came in this morning.”
    Picking up the next newsgraph printout, he read, “The Anarchist planted another bomb and ruined a portion of the northern line, disrupting steamliner traffic. Fortunately, the airship captain was able to lift his cars to safety just in time, and no one was hurt.”The people grumbled and made scornful comments about the evil man who was singlehandedly trying to disrupt the Watchmaker’s century-long Stability. Mr. Paquette continued, “The Regulators closed in on the perpetrator just after the explosion, but he escaped, no doubt to cause further destruction.”
    “The devil take him,” Owen’s father said.
    “Hear, hear!” Others raised their pints in agreement. Owen drank along with them, but asked, “Why would anyone
    want to ruin what the Watchmaker created? Doesn’t he know how dangerous the world was before the Stability?” He had known that much even before reading the pedlar’s book.
    “He’s a freedom extremist, boy. How does a disordered mind work?”
    “It’s not ours to understand,” Mr. Oliveira said. “I doubt the monster understands it himself.”
    Mr. Paquette cleared his throat loudly to show that he had not yet finished reading the news. He picked up a third sheet of pulp paper and raised his eyebrows in impatience until the mutters had quieted. “The Watchmaker is also saddened by the loss of a cargo steamer fully loaded with precision jewels and valuable alchemical supplies from Poseidon City. The Wreckers are believed to be responsible.”
    More grumbling in the tavern. “That’s the third one this year,” said Mr. Huang.
    Little was known about the Wreckers, the pirates and scavengers who preyed on cargo steamers that sailed across the Western Sea to the distant port city of Poseidon. These ships carried loads of rich alchemical elements and rare timekeeping gems mined from the mountains of Atlantis, all of which were vital for the services provided by the Watchmaker.
    “I’ll bet the Anarchist is in league with them,” Owen said. “They all want to cause disruption.”
    “The Watchmaker will take care of it,” said Mr. Paquette with great conviction, setting aside the sheets of paper to emphasize that he was stating his own opinion rather than reading a pronouncement from the Watchmaker. “They will get what they deserve.”
    “But how do you know that?” Owen said in a small voice.
    His father nudged his arm. “Because we believe, son—and you were brought up to believe. Everything has its place, and every place has its thing.” He looked around at the others, as if afraid they would think he was a failure as a father for letting his son doubt. “And I’ll believe it myself to my final breath.”
    Everyone agreed, louder than was necessary, and toasted the Watchmaker.

    As the evening wound down, he and his father spent a few quiet hours in their cottage. Anton Hardy sat by the fire with a sharpened pencil and his ledger, going over how many barrels of fresh cider were to be delivered, how many would remain in storage to ferment into hard cider, how many were reserved for vinegar, and how much the Watchmaker allowed him to charge for each. Every villager had a role to play, and all accounts balanced.
    Finished, Owen’s father set the ledger aside and began reading the Barrel Arbor newspaper, which was little more than a weekly compilation of newsgraph reports from Crown City, thoughtprovoking statements from the Clockwork Angels, and a few local-interest stories that Lavinia’s parents wrote and appended to each edition.
    The current issue had an early announcement of Owen’s impending birthday, to which Mrs. Paquette had added a small comment, “And we hope to have more substantial news to report on this matter soon.” By tradition, of course, his betrothal to Lavinia was more than likely.
    Owen had already read the newspaper and was more interested in