Samson's Invention : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Chapter #11

"I should have guessed it," the clockmaker said, reading the note. 

"You know this place?" The boy asked. "I know I have hidden the book, but it's all foggy in my head."

"You must be tired," the clockmaker said. "Take rest. Tomorrow morning, we will visit the Clock Tower."

"How was he?" The boy asked. "Mr. Samson as a person."

The clockmaker stopped at the door, turning back. "A seeker of knowledge. A free spirit. Always wanted to push himself, always wanted to know what he couldn't make so he will find ways to make it."

"Was he a good man?"

"The best man I had ever known."

The boy smiled, eyes watery. "Thank you."

The old man nodded. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

The clockmaker entered in his room, adjacent to his workshop. He lit the lantern and in its faint light, he started rummaging his trunk. Finally, he found a small twisted-piece of metal. His first attempt to make a clock. He sat on the bed, turning the clock on his hands, smiling.  His smile deepened as his fingers ran on the engravings on the back side of the clock. Samson's remark. The clockmaker clearly remembered that day when Samson took the clock and etched 'Your time will soon come' on it. A nostalgic tear rolled over the clockmaker's cheek.

The old clockmaker almost jumped when the boy rushed into the room. "We need to get out from here."

Confused, the clockmaker placed the clock back in the trunk. "What happened?"

Just then the main door burst open. The glasses shattered.

The clockmaker rushed into the shop. Seven dark figures shadowed the two large windows. One of them threw something. In nick of time, the boy pulled the clockmaker aside, and the knife missed the old man by a hair's breadth.

"Listen, uncle," the boy said. "We need to get out!"

"There..." the clockmaker said. "There...is a backdoor."

The boy pulled up the clockmaker to his heels and they flee from the back-door of the room into the night. Only the sounds of breaking glasses and metals followed them.

Chapter #12

The man felt the gears of his heart slowing down. The lifestone within him could sustain his life a few more minutes. "Master..."

Silence.

A sickness began to weaken him. “Master…”

Silence again.

The man staggered to the other side of the hall. Darkness covered this area or was his eyes losing the sight, he couldn’t say. The world around him spun and he fell on the room. “Ma…ster…”

The lifestone inside his mechanical heart turned dark and the gears stopped.

Chapter #13

The Clock Tower loomed over them as the clockmaker and the boy ran for their lives. Once reached at its gate, the old clockmaker was huffing. “My…My…shop. My…my…clocks.”

The boy put a hand on the old man’s shoulder. “We must get in.”

“The gate is locked!” The old man said. “We cannot go in!”

The boy pulled out a key from the back pocket of his pant. He put it in the keyhole and turned in. The lock clicked open and the door opened inwardly, making a tiring sound that echoed hollowly through the tower.

The clockmaker blinked in surprise. "How did you get the key?”

“Everything will be explained to you. Just come. Please.”

A metallic spiral staircase led them to the upper level of the tower, occasionally creaking under their weight. The clockmaker dropped himself on the floor. “You lied.”

The boy didn’t say a word. He crossed the room. Gigantic gears of the Clock Tower spun above them.

“All these time you knew about everything, yet you lied.”

The boy squatted near the huge dial of the clock. Moonlight streamed through its white glass, bleaching them. The boy pressed a stone between the floor and the dial.

There was a click and the clockmaker startled. He eyed at the section of the stonework near him.

“I’m amazed to see you surprised. Weren’t you both involved in making this giant clock?” the boy asked, rising. He then went to the spot where the small stone slab had slid aside. “And this was your idea, to make a secret groove.

“How do you know all of this?”

The boy put his hand inside the groove and pulled out a leather book. The minute hand of the clock made a movement, tiny clicks distinguished themselves in midst of sluggishly rolling gears, the pressed switch between the dial and the floor embossed and the small stone slab automatically shut the secret groove.

“A minute passes and the secret vanishes,” the boy said. “I must say, I’m impressed. Now here,” he offered the book to the clockmaker. “Take it.”

“What is it?”

“Answers to your questions.”

Chapter #14

Imperial Guard surveyed the damaged shop. Several other guards stood beside him, waiting for the orders. “Seven men were there, right?”

“That’s what neighbors had informed,” one of the subordinates answered.

“How did they by-pass the patrols at the main gate?”

One dared to say. “Sir, we believe it is a work of one of the active mobs.”

Imperial Guard glared and the one who answered dropped his gaze. “Next time you speak, make sure you speak with specifics.”

The poor guard nodded, eyes fixed on the cobblestones between his boots.

“Now get those ugly faces of yours into that shop and search for any clues.”

The guards exchanged glances with each other and started their investigation.

Seven men, Imperial Guard mused, walking toward the fountain at the center of the square, mysteriously showed up and disappeared. How?

The wind carrying the moisture from the fountain felt cold on his skin. He circled around the fountain, his eyes checking out the details. The patrols were stationed at the main gate. Too far away to hear the ruckus. Then Imperial Guard watched the nearby buildings. The people dwelling in this area of the capital were mainly merchants and of high-profile. Vandalizing the clock shop, the idea didn’t seem to fit in the minds of these inhabitants. As his eyes ran on the cobblestoned-floor of the enormous square, a little opening in the far end caught his attention and in that one moment, his all queries were answered. He cursed. “Sewers.”

Chapter #15

Soft sunlight streamed through the foggy dial of the Clock Tower. The old clockmaker opened his eyes, his brass-rimmed spectacles askew on the bridge of his nose and pages of the book that carelessly lay on his chest flipped by the stirring in the wind. He moaned as he felt his back stiffened.

That made the boy woke up. “What time is it?”

“Past seven,” the clockmaker said, straightening his glasses, noting the time. He carefully closed the book. He had no idea when he fell asleep reading the book. It was filled with diagrams, notes, instructions, designs. There were anecdotes of his and Samson’s training days, their immature experiments, their failures, their successes, and how each of their work influenced another work. The clockmaker felt relieved. Now he was aware how the mechanical heart functioned. He knew the lifestone was a source of power, but he could not read much about it.

“We must leave,” the boy said.

“They destroyed everything that was dear to me,” the clockmaker lamented.

“Not everything.”

The clockmaker looked at the boy. “What do you mean?”

“I asked you to fix something for me,” the boy said.

“I did,” the clockmaker said. “I replaced your heart of the heart.”

“You mean lifestone,” the boy rose, walking toward the staircase.

“Yes.”

“Replacement is not fixing things.”

They climbed down the spiral staircase and pulled the door open. A thin film of mist curled over the square. There was a little movement of life in the area.

“Come,” the boy beckoned and the clockmaker followed.

As the sun rose, evaporating the mist, the clockmaker noticed a horse cart materializing in front of them. “Where are you taking me?”

“Outside,” the boy said. “To fix something.”

Chapter #16

“Any news about the clockmaker?”

“No, sir,” the guard said. “But he was not alone when the shop was attacked. Neighbors said that they saw a boy with him in the evening.”

“Keep searching for them,” Imperial Guard said without lifting his head. Those lines and their intersections after reading for more than two hours were finally making sense.

“The Old Sewer,” the guard said, “it’s a labyrinth, sir.”

Imperial Guard snorted. He knew his subordinates hated him for pushing them into sewers in the middle of the night with torches. He took the lead and was amazed by the abandoned network of the sewers. They searched for hours and found only filth and rats. Once, they were back in their tower, he asked for designs of the Old Sewers. In lantern light, he was studying those drawings.

“Why were they shut?” Imperial Guard asked.

The window above them shown with the morning light. The guard stifled a yawn. “They weren’t actually shut wholly, Sir. They were extended. These parts became redundant to New Sewer system.”

Imperial Guard raised an eyebrow. “You seemed to know more about this.”

“Actually, sir, my grandfather worked in the construction of New Sewer. He was the one in the very team that inspected the Old Sewer. While most of the grandparents used to tell stories of fairies and morals, my grandfather was obsessed with tunnels and sewage.”

Imperial Guard laughed. “Tell me more.”

“He was not a grumpy man. But working his youth in those tunnels…”

“I was talking about the Old Sewers.”

The guard stopped awkwardly, gathered his thoughts, and continued. “The need for New Sewers arose with prosperity. New areas were developed. Our ruler was foresighted. He understood that expansion, if not planned properly, would affect the harmony. Long live the king.”

Imperial Guard repeated the same. “Continue.”

“New Sewers were developed to meet the new demands. They found a flaw in the Old Sewers.”

“What flaw?”

The guard pointed at the large squares drawn with a bold line on the map. “These chambers weren’t functioning the way they were supposed to. The purpose of these gigantic chambers was to regulate the flow of sewage. Five of them functioned, even now they are working good, the rest four were not. That’s why new chambers were made.”

“Three,” Imperial Guard corrected.

“What?”

“The rest three chambers,” Imperial Guard said, counting the squares on the map. “There are eight chambers in total.”

The guard hesitated. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Never mind. Take rest.” Imperial Guard stretched his arms, yawning. “Tonight we have work to do.”

“And that is, sir?”

“To check these three chambers.”

Chapter # 17

The clockmaker lifted the cloth that covered the cart. Most of the crates were empty. A few contained rotten vegetables and a couple of them still had eatable stock. “You are a farmer?”

“The cart is not ours.”

The carrot the clockmaker had picked up slipped from his fingers. “You stole it!”

“No. Listen, we have more pressing things to worry about. If you are hungry, you can have one. But don’t eat more. This cart is actually borrowed.”

“More pressing things that you don’t want to explain,” the clockmaker said, again picking up the fallen carrot.

The boy maneuvered the cart left, entering the New Capital. Buildings with improved architectural and structural elements rose on both sides. They passed taverns, inns, markets and finally, The Gate came into their sight. The boy slowed down the pace. A queue of empty carts stood in front of them.

“They are checking every cart,” the boy said.

“Yesterday, there was no such strict checking. They allowed me to pass when I was looking for you.”

“Today they won’t allow us. We are in the cart and that makes a difference.”

“We can walk out easily.”

The boy thought about it and then shook his head dismissively. “Our road is long. We need this cart out with us.”

The clockmaker watched the guards asking the drivers for trade-permissions. “What are they looking for?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yes, everyone in the capital knows about you.”

“I am not that popular.”

“But your clocks are.”

The carts before them advanced. The boy snapped the reins and the Clydesdale clopped on at a steady pace.  

“Tell me now,” the clockmaker hissed. “What is this all about? What do you want from me?”

The boy remained silent, his face turning paler and paler as they moved ahead.

The clockmaker threw his hands in the air. “You don’t trust me.”

“Just help me by-pass this,” the boy said. “Please.”

Two more carts and then it was their turn to get inspected.  The clockmaker looked into the boy’s eyes. The plea felt earnest. He took the cloth that was covering the crates and slowly wrapped around him like a shawl. He then grabbed few rotten tomatoes.

The guards were now inspecting the cart before them.

The clockmaker looked at the rotten tomatoes. “Oh, dear. I am going to hate this.” He took a mouthful of the bite of it. Then another bite. And another. Once thrust into his mouth, the clockmaker veiled his face.

“What are you doing?”

“You,” the guard said. “Your turn.”

The cart moved ahead. “Trade-permission?” the guard asked.

The boy took out a piece of paper from underneath the seat. The guard looked at the royal seal and the signature. They seemed genuine.

“Who is this?”

The boy hesitated for a moment. “My uncle.”

“Well.” The guard handed back the trade-permission to the boy. “I need to see his face.”

“He can’t.”

Suspicion frowned the guard’s brows. “Why?”

“He is…” The boy’s throat was suddenly dried.

The clockmaker opened his shroud and puked over the boots of the guards. Then immediately shut his mouth with a hand, covering half of his face.

“…is sick.” The boy completed his phrase, shocked.

“You old hag!” The guard cursed.

The clockmaker’s cheeks ballooned, his eyes bulged.

“Get him out of here!” The guard bellowed.

“Sure, sir.”

Chapter #18

King sauntered in the archway, his royal deep-red cape trailing behind him. Several bodyguards with swords sheathed at their waists followed.

He stopped at the door of the royal treasury. “Open it.”

The gate-keepers obeyed, opening the door.

King gestured with a hand not to be followed further.  Large iron chests were arranged in the room. He walked toward a smaller chest. From the folds of his clothes, he produced a key and unlocked the chest. Bright light shone as he lifted the lid. Once his eyes were adjusted with brightness, he counted the lifestones and then closed the chest.

Chapter #19

Imperial Guard was up by the noon.  He needed to revise the designs, find the quick routes so that they would not wander aimlessly in the night-investigation.

Nine chambers in the Old Sewers, he noted. Then he flipped with designs of New Sewers. They were denser with lines compared to the old sewage system. Fifteen chambers, he noted. He then spread both designs side-by-side, comparing it. The guard was correct. While new chambers were constructed at the different strategical positions under the capital, three were actually made beside the old ones.   

One chamber was under the Old Capital’s outer wall, the other was at eastward, between the market and the residential area. The third chamber was beneath the royal palace.

A knock came from the door.

“Enter.”

A messenger entered the room. “This is a message from the king.” He handed a rolled-paper. As Imperial Guard unrolled it, he noticed a portrait of a man.”

“Who is he?”

“Our Highness demands to find this man as quick as possible.”

“Yes, I got it. I asked his name.”

“Samson.”

Chapter #20

“Are you feeling good now?”

The clockmaker shaded his eyes from the sunlight. His bowels were still unsettled, the mouth still tasted of the rotten tomatoes. The only thing that remembered after leaving the capital was that he puked again. Weakness had seized him. So the boy made a place in the cart, shifting the crates, for him to rest.

“That was a nice trick,” the boy said.

The ring of happiness in the boy’s voice made the clockmaker to smile. Soon the sky above him was replaced by shifting intertwined branches. The air became cooler. And then they stopped.

The boy hopped from the driver seat and helped the clockmaker to climb down. A muddy way led them to a farmhouse. The owner of the house welcomed them with a warm smile. He called his wife and children to help the clockmaker. The boy handed the trade-permission to the owner, thanking him for his assistance.

The clockmaker couldn’t hear what they were conversing. The wife and her two daughters ushered him to the outhouse.

The boy rushed to them. He opened the door. The clockmaker gasped as he entered the outhouse.

“Now you understand why I need you,” the boy said.

In a wooden tub, filled with yellow-viscous liquid was an immobile body. The clockmaker leaned on the edge. That square jaw, those thin brows, even after years he recognized the man in the tub. “Samson.”