Geneve shooed me out the door of the changing room. “Go now while he’s waiting.”
I hurried through the back room filled with fabrics and automatons wearing half-finished designs, then slipped into the alley behind the shop. With a deep breath, I rejoined the throng of pedestrians on the street and let myself get lost in the hiss of hydraulics from airships overhead, the flutter of newspaper pages being turned, and the hum of polite conversation. I walked to Copper Haven without a backward glance. Unlike the Lower Chimes, I knew the Upper Chimes as well as Cogsley’s lack of humor.
“...It could be worth considering adding a provision about the Lower Chimes into his platform for the debate,” a man said from nearby, his voice cutting through the symphony of sounds.
“We have bigger issues to think about than the Lower Chimes,” a second voice said. “They aren’t worth our time.”
I froze at the familiar voice. It was Desmarc.
The foot traffic bustled around me, and I earned a few disgruntled looks from my abrupt stop. I ducked behind an aether lamp for partial protection and scanned for my fiancé. If he spotted me, I’d definitely lose some, if not all, of my precious fifteen minutes.
Over the chatter of voices from the street, I picked out the voice of Desmarc’s companion again, growing louder as they approached my pathetic hiding spot. “You say that, but they’re still a large percentage of the voters.”
I joined a group of women walking by and ducked my head as we passed Desmarc.
“The Lower Chimes contribute nothing to our society. They’re a drain on our resources.”
“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”
“If they had more ambition, they would’ve bettered their situations already, and—”
A steamcab drove by, drowning out the rest of Desmarc’s remark.
I stepped away from the group and leaned against a shop wall, my heart pounding. Whether from the close call or Desmarc’s words, I wasn’t sure. He didn’t just dismiss the idea of helping those with less—he was against it. And if he opposed my trips to the Lower Chimes with Geneve once we were married, would I let that stop me?
I shook off my questions and forced myself to keep moving. I had a mission to accomplish and only a short time frame to do it in.
A few minutes later, I entered the coolness of Copper Haven through the massive brass and glass revolving door. Tall pillars supported the high, vaulted ceiling and the engraved black metal decorating the walls and desks reminded me of the key in my pocket.
I hurried to the shortest line, which held just a middle-aged woman, and took my place behind her. I glanced at my pocket watch and bit my lip. I only had eight minutes left, but I couldn’t go back to Papá now when I was so close to finding another piece of Mamá. While I waited, I studied the woman’s bank uniform. What I could see of her clothes appeared the same as the men at nearby desks—a white blouse with a black bowtie—but her hat had a more elegant curvature.
Once it was my turn, I stepped up to the desk before the woman invited me forward.
“Can I help you?” she asked in a tone of bored politeness.
“Yes, I was hoping you could tell me my vault number. I’m afraid I’ve forgotten it.” I drummed my fingers along the marble surface.
“Of course. What’s your name?” She pulled a ledger from a drawer and opened it.
“Kyra Annandale.”
The woman gaped at me, her brown eyes widening, then quickly lowered her gaze back to the book. “Of course. Annandale, Annandale,” she muttered as she slid her finger down the page. “Ah, here it is. Vault 20A.”
“Excellent.” My heart pounded in my chest.
“And I’m assuming you have your key?”
“Of course.” With a trembling hand, I drew the key from my pocket and passed it to her, praying it was right.
She examined it for a minute, then handed the key back. “Everything appears to be in order.” She stood, and the legs of her chair squeaked against the floor. “I’ll escort you there.”
“Oh, thank you.” My heart skipped a beat as I followed her down a long hallway. I’d actually done it. After a minute, we turned down another corridor into a different area. “Can I not get into my vault on my own?”
“For the security of our customers’ belongings, each vault is safeguarded with a double security measure.”
“I see.” What sort of things would Mamá have saved for me in the vault? I was only ten when she died, leaving me with precious few memories of her.
I followed the woman down yet another hallway and a stone staircase with pipe railing.
“If you’ll insert your key into that side, I’ll help open the door,” she said, drawing to a stop next to a large door made of reinforced steel and brass with 20A inscribed on the front. The woman pulled out a pocket watch, then opened it with a soft snick and pressed it into an indentation by the door. So the double security feature she’d mentioned had been referring to a pocket watch.
A loud click echoed off the stone walls and pipes, and a massive cogwheel emerged from the wall. The woman turned it carefully before giving me an expectant look.
I pulled out the metal key and slid the pointy end into the hole, then watched while she typed a code into a small frame by the door that glowed with a blue light—another aether-powered device. The door creaked open, and the smell of dust and stale air hit me. It had been a while since anyone had opened this vault.
“I’ll wait down the hall.” She dipped her head in a slight bow. “If you need anything, just call for me. My name is Eleanor. Otherwise, let me know when you’re done, and we’ll relock the vault.”
“Thank you.” I barely spared her a glance as I stepped inside a small room. “Wait, what of this is mine?”
“This whole room belongs to your family,” she said before walking off.
I’d been expecting the key to lead to a box of things, not an entire room. Granted, it was only about ten feet by ten feet, but still. Piles of coins littered the floor like sparkling mounds of treasure—easily enough money to support me for life even if I wasn’t an Annandale—but it wasn’t the money that interested me so much as the items.
In a corner, a grand clock with a frame constructed from aged brass rested on clawed feet. The body exposed gears and cogs intermixed with crystals that glowed with a blue light—probably aether powered. Symbols engraved along the edges caught my eye, but I couldn’t read any of them. The same symbols decorated the iridescent clockface, which looked almost like the moon, and instead of traditional numerals, the hands pointed to more mysterious sigils. I ran a finger over the smooth wood, wondering who it belonged to and why it was locked in here instead of being used.