The Original OCAC Prologue
Fiction | A Stelnove Saga story
This was the original prologue I wrote for my NA “clockpunk” fantasy novel, Of Constellations and Clockwork. I initially wanted to keep it in the book along with the current prologue, but was wisely talked out of it by my editor. :) However, I still wanted to share it with you all, so please enjoy. You can check out more free stories related to the Stelnove Saga under the “Fiction” tab!
The abominable clockwork weapon was finished.
Clemenza Giudice stared at the little balestrino sitting on her workstation. The crossbow was a piece of artistry, really. It almost looked too pretty and delicate to be as deadly as it was. Made almost entirely of clockwork, the wheels fit together perfectly, all well-oiled to ensure smooth function. The reservoir of liquid aether was at the back, in part assisting the trigger mechanism to increase the velocity, and also to add a perilous touch to the darts.
She held it up with care, though nothing was loaded and the string was still slack. Despite the sense of accomplishment swelling in her chest, something heavy settled deep inside her. She ignored it and picked up the balestrino.
The workshop was quiet this morning, the only sound the clicking and scraping of materials as the other workers put together their devices: table clocks and miniature automi, mainly. Clemenza wove around their various stations, cradling the clockwork weapon in her arms. A few of the girls cast her a passing glance, some lingering eyes following her accompanied by whispers that threaded through the ticking that tapped out an erratic rhythm in the workshop. Clemenza glared at a couple of the girls, but mainly kept her own eyes forward as she left and headed down the hall to the Clock Master’s office.
The door was ajar, so she entered directly and laid the balestrino before him on his cluttered desk.
“It is finished.”
He set down his papers and wrapped his thick fingers around the delicate device. “Does it work?” He glanced up at her over spectacles that he removed now. He was in a nice velvet giornea, dark hair combed back and tidy for once.
“Of course it does. I tested it myself. The only problem is it becomes overheated from the liquid aether. It can only be used sparingly.”
Gaspare Mazza lifted an eyebrow. “I hope you didn’t test it on a person.”
Clemenza merely smiled in return.
The Clock Master’s eyes lifted to one of the dozens of clocks hanging from the ceiling or stuck to the wall of his office. “Right on time too. Signor Velia should be here any minute to collect it.”
“And I get paid in full today.”
He waved that away. “Yes, yes. Now, there is one other matter I would like to discuss with you…”
He trailed off as his eyes went over Clemenza’s shoulder. She turned around.
Standing in the door of his office was a nobleman, identifiable by the livery collar he wore: a thin cord draped over his shoulders with a square patch that hung over his chest, with a matching one in back. A white bird in flight was depicted on the patch, marking him as an Ambizioso family.
Signor Leonardo Velia. The patron of her clockwork balestrino.
Clemenza chilled, looking at him. She knew most of the important noble families around the city, by name if not personally or by sight. Signor Velia had been capitano del popolo during the Raids twenty years ago. He had sided with Ludovico Guerra to dispossess certain noble families, including Clemenza’s own.
When Gaspare had initially asked her to take on this commission for him, her instinctual response had been a firm no.
But then he’d told her how much she’d get paid for it. Money that she could send to her family, struggling in another region far from here.
“Is it ready?” Signor Velia asked, taking a couple steps into the office. He was taller than the average Selvascuran man, with a hard jaw and soft eyes that belied how cold his expression was. Clemenza resisted the urge to flinch and felt her own face grow hard.
The Clock Master had risen at his entrance and offered a little bow now. “It is. My most talented clockmaker here, Clemenza, made it.”
The fact he didn’t introduce her by her last name was obvious to her, and probably to Signor Velia too, though he didn’t question it.
Signor Velia approached the Clock Master’s desk now, his boots driving a steady rhythm on the hardwood floor. Not for the first time, Clemenza wondered what use he had for the balestrino. Someone who went to the trouble to commission such a particular weapon probably had an important use for it other than displaying it on a mantel.
As always, she pushed away the thought as soon as it entered her mind. It didn’t matter what her patrons did with her work. So long as she got paid.
Signor Velia picked up the balestrino and examined it. Looking at his long, smooth fingers, Clemenza somehow doubted this man had ever shot a crossbow in his life.
He handed it to Clemenza. “Very nice. Anything in particular to know?”
She swallowed. “It functions like a regular crossbow. You will just want to be mindful of the liquid aether. It can easily burn out the mechanism if used too many times in a row.”
“Interesting.” Signor Velia took it back and looked it over again. Then he gave her a cold, tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you, madonna. Your payment.” He drew out a pouch of money and dropped it on the desk with a dull clang.
Clemenza watched him walk out of the office. The words crawled their way up her throat, begging to be free. “What are you planning to do with it?”
But instead, she took the pouch of money and went back to her workstation.
#
A week later, on her way to the clock shop, Clemenza saw the crowd on the Tre Bestie bridge.
She glanced at one of the short columns flanking the opening to the bridge. Chiseled into it were the names of the nine Stelnove: the spiritual beings who had passed down the Constellation, the System of Values society had lived by for nine hundred years. They had chosen certain families to uphold a particular Value associated with each Stelnove.
The names of Carità, Fede, Speranza, and Guerriera had been scratched out, scorch marks on the stone indicating where flames had licked it.
Clemenza took a deep, trembling breath and crossed the bridge. She paused at the crowd. Her short stature made it difficult to peer over shoulders or push her way to the front, so she turned to the young woman next to her.
“What’s happening?”
“They found a body in the river!” The woman’s eyes were alight with excitement, not at all the reaction Clemenza thought one should have. “They’re saying it’s Signor Donatello Benedetti.”
Clemenza’s blood went cold. She elbowed her way to the front of the crowd, peering down at the banks of the Eunoe river below. A group of officers in their matching black giornee were down there, standing around a bloated body spread out on the rocks. The voices next to her caught her attention.
“Maybe we should call the officers up here…this looks interesting.”
“Could someone have…pushed him? Or did he fall? What is this?”
A man a few feet away was turning a peculiar device around in his hands, frowning at it.
A clockwork balestrino, its mechanisms burned out.
“Whatever it is, it doesn’t work anymore…”
Clemenza choked on her next breath. She started to back away. Why would her weapon have been left there? Negligence? Could she hope that it had been planted to try to frame Signor Velia? But then why had it been burned out from use?
She turned and saw a young man standing apart from the crowd. He was dressed in the black robes of the Accademia, though he was too old to be a student. He, too, was observing the men holding her now broken device, his expression pale and horrified as if he had come to the same conclusion as she.
He caught her eyes. He wore unique gold wire-rimmed spectacles, and in another situation, another moment, Clemenza might have found him handsome.
Her gaze lowered to the Ambizioso livery collar across his chest. Each Stelnove had chosen three families to represent their particular Value. For the Stelnove Ambizioso, that Value was “ambition tailored to the common good.” Of course as the centuries passed and families branched out, there were far more than three.
Clemenza met the young man’s eyes again. He hunched in a quite non-noble way. The noble families chosen by the Stelnove were not special or better than everyone else, but they had been given a great duty: to set a good and upright example for the rest of society. To be just, virtuous rulers and governors, exemplars of the Values corresponding to the Stelnove that had chosen them, that corresponded to the Constellation recognized by every rational creature.
What Clemenza had just witnessed belied all those definitions.
And yet was indicative of the society they now lived in.
The young man backed away and hurried across the bridge.
“Ehi! Wait!” Clemenza pushed through the crowd and tried to follow him, though she wasn’t sure what she would say. Are you Leonardo’s son? What do you know?
Did your father use my balestrino to murder someone?
By the time she made it to the end of the bridge, the man had disappeared. Clemenza walked until she hit a deserted alley, then she collapsed against the wall, all strength leaving her.
She pressed her face into her hands and sobbed, the weight of so many mistakes dragging her down.
Great to have this! It's always nice getting bonus scenes for a story you've enjoyed.