"I've repaired him, so you and Iracebeth can talk to him when he wakes up."
Kello couldn't see anything. He was still adrift in darkness, disoriented and exhausted, and yet he heard voices all around him, conversing strangely. One deep and serious voice, and another voice, clear as a silver bell, came to follow it.
"He's just a child, like Racie and I! Oh, I can't wait to show him my chess set and my marble collection, and…"
"Later, Mirana."
"Why?"
There was a loud, sombre sigh. "In his own kingdom, in war, this little fallen soldier was taken prisoner and tortured. He needs to rest… but in time, Mirana, you and Iracebeth will get to meet him."
"What do you mean?"
"I have a plan for him… that he'll bring a sense of stability and order to the chaos of Underland. He may just be the noble guardian that I've been looking for, Mirana. Time in Marmoreal, appointed right where he belongs."
"No!" Kello exclaimed in horror, too weak to run away, but just briefly able to open his eyes. He found himself lying in the gentle arms of a tall man in red, his chestnut hair neatly combed back, his golden eyes strangely kind and comforting… and staring curiously at him, he saw a little girl. No, a… a princess, he thought, catching sight of her porcelain skin and flowing platinum hair, her dark eyes fixed on him. Her dress, layers of pink and white gossamer and silk, was threaded with silver embroidery, making it sparkle in the light.
The girl moved carefully, so as not to startle him, taking a delicate step forward on the red granite floor. "Hello… little clockwork boy," she said, because she didn't know his name.
King Oleron brushed back the boy's long black bangs from his eyes, and Mirana stifled a gasp. He had the most beautiful, blazing ocean eyes that she had ever seen, even though they were ringed in dark shadows and clouded with drowsiness.
The nearby door suddenly flew open, almost demandingly, but what came into the room wasn't any imposing or dangerous-looking figure. It was another girl, somewhat older-looking, gingerly tip-toeing in on the granite, smoothing her hands down against the lacy skirt of her pink dress. Her hair was as wavy and red as molten lava, and yet there was something friendly and undeniably good-natured in her inquisitive eyes, almost like a kitten that wanted someone to play with.
"Racie," Mirana said, gripping the older girl's hand, drawing her forward.
A shy, sheepish smile graced Iracebeth's face as she gazed into the boy's eyes. "Hello there," she greeted, raising her hand in a small, friendly wave.
King Oleron gently laid Kello down on the room's lone bed, feeling the boy's forehead. "He still has quite a fever," he sighed, "but I don't expect that it will last."
Kello peered around the room, horribly confused, attempting to stand up, but he only fell back with gasping, shallow breaths, clutching at his stomach. Beneath the fabric of his buttoned white shirt, he could feel the outline of thick stitches… and everything, the last few moments of his life, came flooding back like a tidal wave. The smell of blood in the air, hands and hooks and knives digging, sharp tools gleaming…
King Oleron gathered the frightened boy back up into his arms just as he'd begun sobbing, shivering, his thin face pale. He tried to pull away from the tall man, but another burst of sharp pain shot through his stomach, and he collapsed back, catching a glimpse of himself as he froze in shock. What had been done to him?
He'd been dressed in new things, for a start, much nicer than anything he'd ever had before. Black pants with black leather boots, a white shirt with a pointed collar and buttoned cuffs, and a long black velvet overcoat lined in bright violet. The coat had strange pointed shoulder pads… but beneath it was what had stricken Kello the most. His shirt was halfway unbuttoned, and he could see, directly embedded into his chest, a ticking clock made of intricate crystal and gold, gears keeping the pointed hands moving at a steady rhythm.
Iracebeth's heart-shaped pout dropped. "He's clockwork!" she gasped, astonished.
Kello whimpered, horrified, and then with a sudden strangled scream, he began tearing at himself, trying to pull the clock from his body… but he couldn't. Black leather gloves had been placed on his hands, companions to the boots on his feet, and the clockwork system was welded into his ribcage, gears running beneath it. "What have you done to me?" he asked in a desperate, pleading shout… but he didn't try to fight the strange group of people. He wasn't sure that he could, even if he'd wanted to. Besides, something about them seemed… safe. Trustworthy. They hadn't tried to harm him yet anyway, not like… the enemy had when they'd captured him.
King Oleron pinned the boy's shoulders down, holding him in place. "Be still, or you'll hurt yourself," he told him, his tanned face flushed with concern, a noticeable contrast to Kello's own milky pale complexion.
"So then, Tick-Tock," Iracebeth mused, reaching out to hold one of his gloved hands, "who are you really, and where are you from?"
"I'm a freedom fighter, part of the Resistance!" Kello exclaimed. "I'm not… this! I was part of an armed uprising in Prussia, but we were caught and sentenced to execution in prison…"
Mirana gasped, burying her face against King Oleron's leg. The King patted her head, stroking her long hair, but there was a peculiar look in his eyes… something poignant, almost tragic.
"You must be from very far away," gushed Iracebeth. She adored stories of travel, particularly if tiny souvenirs and presents came her way from other places for her to collect. "I wonder what your own kingdom is like... oh, now don't cry so, Tick-Tock! You poor little clockwork creature, you must be dreadfully homesick… with a family of your own out there, right?"
Kello shook his head. His mother and father had died of tuberculosis long ago.
"Oh," Iracebeth whispered, at a loss for words.
Kello felt far too exhausted to focus on the pretty ruby-haired girl gripping his hand. He fell back in King Oleron's arms, and the man carefully placed him on the bed, letting his head sink against the soft white pillow as he drifted back into fitful unconsciousness. "I have more repairs to make, but don't you worry, my beloved daughters," the King promised. "The broken clockwork boy is going to recover."
Iracebeth was disappointed. She had wanted to bring out her treasured ant farm to share with the new visitor, but he didn't move at all. "Wake up, Tick-Tock," she urged, leaning her head against his chest. To her surprise, she could hear him breathing shallowly, and fainter than that, she could hear a heartbeat. "So, you're not completely clockwork after all, are you?" she asked, not that she expected an answer. "How curious."
King Oleron kept his eyes to the ground. He had been able to rescue Kello just before Vartija had harvested the boy's heart and lungs, but his entire being was kept alive through clockwork now, controlled by the ticking clock embedded in his chest and the metal gears running beneath it. The King had stuffed Kello's body with soft iron filings and swan feathers where his internal organs had been, but he had no desire at all to tell Mirana or Iracebeth. "You need to let him rest for now, my daughters," he advised. "In time, he will recover. Now, let us go and find your mother. I'm sure she could use some help with setting the glazed cherries in her tarts this afternoon."
Mirana glanced back over her shoulder at the unconscious clockwork boy, her lips pursed in worry. "He won't bring stability and order to Underland, Father. He's mad, crazy, just like everybody else here. He's too skittish to be the guardian you've been looking for, surely!"
"You mustn't question my decisions, Mirana," said the King sternly, leading her out of the room. "I looked far and wide all across the world for just the right guardian I need, the noblest and most dedicated being for it, and this is the one. When you're much older and wiser, well-versed in the spirit of our world, you will understand."
"Well, I like him," Iracebeth chimed in with a stubborn, determined glare.
"So do I," replied Mirana, "very much indeed, but… Father didn't bring him to our kingdom just so you could have another doll or pet to play with, Racie. He's been chosen to construct a grand and eternal device, one to set the course of Underland forever and always! Making sense in chaos sets it in such a way that it can't be tampered with again, or else our entire world will be at risk! To place this sad, injured boy in charge of such a feat seems… dangerous."
