glancing at his pocket watch. He stared at the hands for a moment before he realized that he had no idea which time zone it was set to. Somewhere, it was a quarter to three.
“Oh, we're about twelve hours from nine, at the moment,” Jonas answered, looking at the clock fixed into the face of the station building, which read nine twenty-seven.
He glanced down the now emptying city streets with uncovered eyes, showing little fear. The station was on the edge of town, and there was nothing but an endless sea of sand just behind it. To his left, behind Twist, the dessert crept right up to the city through a small, sandy plaza with a simple marble fountain and a few wooden benches around it. Myra sat on one of the benches and stared into the horizon with wonder in her glinting jewel eyes. To his right, a few shops, and a café with seating on the street, were glowing with candlelight.
“Well,” Jonas asked, “if we're going to wait till the next train, should we get a room for the night or just drink a lot of coffee and sleep on the train tomorrow?”
“Coffee sounds marvelous,” Twist muttered, rubbing at a new dull pain in the side of his head. It seemed to grow concurrently with the number of complications before him. “I'll get Myra,” he said, turning to call to her in the plaza, a few steps away.
For a moment, he didn't actually realize that anything was wrong. He thought he just couldn't see her in the darkening gloom. Then he was sure she wasn't on the bench. She wasn't in the plaza. She wasn't out in the shifting sand just beyond. As he turned slowly, searching a wider and wider circle for her glinting copper skin, Jonas came to his side with fear in his flashing green eyes.
“Where is she?” Twist asked. His voice sounded strange to him, hollow and thin.
“She was right there,” Jonas said, looking through the shadows with his powerful vision.
“Myra?” Twist called to the air in his small voice.
“I don't see her anywhere,” Jonas said darkly. “She couldn't have gone by us.”
“Myra!” Twist called again as a chill of cold dread burned down into his stomach.
He started to move, though he didn't know where he was heading. The streets that led into the city were all empty. The street he was on was empty but for him and Jonas. The shops and cafes were full of people, but none of them were made of clockwork. He heard Jonas's voice calling for her too, but he never heard a response. His heart was pounding and he couldn't find enough breath. It took far too long for him to realize that he was panicking.
“Can I help you?” a voice asked as Twist hurried past a form that was in his way.
Twist spun on the spot to find a woman standing in the street, looking at him with concern. She was tall, pale, and proud, in a long green sateen gown that billowed gently from her hips to her feet, with a black jacket that made her waist appear even more slender, and a scarf of white fur even though they were in Egypt. Her hair was mirror black and tied up in a soft bun, with perfectly disordered strands falling out around her dark eyes and ruby red lips. Her startling beauty stalled Twist's tumbling thoughts for an instant.
“Have you lost someone?” she asked Twist gently with a distinct but soft Russian.
“Yes,” Twist said, finally recognizing the signs of panic in himself now. He forced his racing breath to deepen and slow. “A girl. She's this tall,” he said, indicating, “blue eyes, red hair. And she's made of clockwork.”
The woman's fine black eye brows rose upward sharply at the last detail.
“Oh Lord that sounds bizarre,” he muttered quickly. “She has copper skin and she was wearing purple,” he continued, stepping closer. “Have you seen her? She was just there, but now she's gone.”
“Did you say copper?” the woman asked. “Is she made of copper metal, or is she only painted to look so?”
“No, she—“ Twist's
“Oh, we're about twelve hours from nine, at the moment,” Jonas answered, looking at the clock fixed into the face of the station building, which read nine twenty-seven.
He glanced down the now emptying city streets with uncovered eyes, showing little fear. The station was on the edge of town, and there was nothing but an endless sea of sand just behind it. To his left, behind Twist, the dessert crept right up to the city through a small, sandy plaza with a simple marble fountain and a few wooden benches around it. Myra sat on one of the benches and stared into the horizon with wonder in her glinting jewel eyes. To his right, a few shops, and a café with seating on the street, were glowing with candlelight.
“Well,” Jonas asked, “if we're going to wait till the next train, should we get a room for the night or just drink a lot of coffee and sleep on the train tomorrow?”
“Coffee sounds marvelous,” Twist muttered, rubbing at a new dull pain in the side of his head. It seemed to grow concurrently with the number of complications before him. “I'll get Myra,” he said, turning to call to her in the plaza, a few steps away.
For a moment, he didn't actually realize that anything was wrong. He thought he just couldn't see her in the darkening gloom. Then he was sure she wasn't on the bench. She wasn't in the plaza. She wasn't out in the shifting sand just beyond. As he turned slowly, searching a wider and wider circle for her glinting copper skin, Jonas came to his side with fear in his flashing green eyes.
“Where is she?” Twist asked. His voice sounded strange to him, hollow and thin.
“She was right there,” Jonas said, looking through the shadows with his powerful vision.
“Myra?” Twist called to the air in his small voice.
“I don't see her anywhere,” Jonas said darkly. “She couldn't have gone by us.”
“Myra!” Twist called again as a chill of cold dread burned down into his stomach.
He started to move, though he didn't know where he was heading. The streets that led into the city were all empty. The street he was on was empty but for him and Jonas. The shops and cafes were full of people, but none of them were made of clockwork. He heard Jonas's voice calling for her too, but he never heard a response. His heart was pounding and he couldn't find enough breath. It took far too long for him to realize that he was panicking.
“Can I help you?” a voice asked as Twist hurried past a form that was in his way.
Twist spun on the spot to find a woman standing in the street, looking at him with concern. She was tall, pale, and proud, in a long green sateen gown that billowed gently from her hips to her feet, with a black jacket that made her waist appear even more slender, and a scarf of white fur even though they were in Egypt. Her hair was mirror black and tied up in a soft bun, with perfectly disordered strands falling out around her dark eyes and ruby red lips. Her startling beauty stalled Twist's tumbling thoughts for an instant.
“Have you lost someone?” she asked Twist gently with a distinct but soft Russian.
“Yes,” Twist said, finally recognizing the signs of panic in himself now. He forced his racing breath to deepen and slow. “A girl. She's this tall,” he said, indicating, “blue eyes, red hair. And she's made of clockwork.”
The woman's fine black eye brows rose upward sharply at the last detail.
“Oh Lord that sounds bizarre,” he muttered quickly. “She has copper skin and she was wearing purple,” he continued, stepping closer. “Have you seen her? She was just there, but now she's gone.”
“Did you say copper?” the woman asked. “Is she made of copper metal, or is she only painted to look so?”
“No, she—“ Twist's
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