Amber Sky (C.O.I.L.S Of Copper and Brass Book 1) Read online

  Amber Sky

  C.O.I.L.S of Copper and Brass

  Book 1

  Claire Warner

  Amber Sky

  C.O.I.L.S of Copper and Brass

  Book 1

  Published by Raven Press

  © Claire Warner 2016

  Published by Raven Press

  ISBN: 978-0-9954631-2-7 – Paperback Edition

  ISBN: 978-0-9954631-3-4 – Ebook Edition

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to any persons, living, dead or undead, is purely coincidental.

  Images designed by Freepik

  Also by Claire Warner

  Night Flower:

  The Black Lotus

  Blood Orchid

  Faded Rose (in progress)

  Coils of Copper and Brass:

  Amber Sky

  Copper Temple (TBC)

  Silver City (TBC)

  Crimson: Short Story collection (in progress)

  For Steve, thank you for your belief.

  For Sarah, you’ve helped so much.

  And strangely enough, thanks to a particularly dull day at the office, without which this book would never have been thought of.

  Within the Coils of Copper and Brass, there is a chance of freedom.

  Anonymous (date unknown)

  Chapter 1

  It was November, and soot-laden fog obscured her progress as Taya strode along the busy street. A chill wind kept the smog moving and nipped at her exposed skin. She was grateful for the shifting whiteness: it kept away curious eyes, and gave her a sense of freedom. The Factory was ahead, belching clouds of smoke and steam into the air, choking the lines of workers that queued outside. She averted her eyes and kept going. Thoughts of the Factory led to thoughts of the Mine, and she could not allow that. The work site fell behind her as she began to move uphill, away from the choking smog of the Factory District, and toward the Mercantile District. The traffic thinned out as her feet carried her through the cold, whispering quiet. The crowds were lighter here and better dressed. In contrast to their well-heeled fashions, Taya looked like an old sack. Several threadbare garments covered her body, and a moth-eaten, woollen hat was jammed down on her chestnut-coloured hair. Her boots were held together with twine, and stuffed with rags to keep the cold at bay. Despite her efforts to layer her ragged clothing, the wind still found its way to her skin, making her shiver. As she headed into the district, the fog shielded her from prying eyes and made her progress easier. Moving along the well-paved roads of the Merchant District with the elusiveness of a wild thing, she avoided the few traders that braved the cold, speeding up as she approached her destination.

  The house was built from white stone, now discoloured from the ubiquitous soot. On the faded, cherry-coloured door, a brass knocker in the shape of a lion warned her off with what she fancied was a contemptuous gaze. For a long moment, she stared at the wood, wondering at the wisdom of what she was attempting. Lars and Cody could have been wrong, and this trip could easily land her in the cells. As the ever-present wind chapped her lips, she mustered her resolve. All other options had been exhausted, and this was all she had left. Taking a deep breath, she grasped the knocker with one shaking hand before letting it fall. For several moments, she waited on the doorstep, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other, nervous beyond thought.

  The door creaked open, and a maid stared down at her with unconcealed distaste. Taya nervously wet her lips and opened her mouth to speak.

  “No beggars.” The maid spoke first, her voice shrill with strident condemnation, as she took in Tay’s attire. Confident in her dismissal, she moved to close the door.

  “No, wait.” Tay placed her foot in the hall, and leant forward. The maid stopped moving, distaste morphing into shock. “I need to speak to Darius…” Despite her best efforts, Tay’s voice still shook. “Please.” The woman stared down at her with disbelief, incredulous at her audacity to ask to see the Master’s son.

  “I don’t think so.” The woman began pushing the door shut, shoving Tay’s fragile frame off the doorstep with its weight. Tay held her ground, trying to keep the door open.

  “Please…” She pleaded once more, her voice echoing loudly in the hallway. Panic thrummed through her as she became aware of the spectacle she was creating. One complaint from any of the people on the street behind her and the guards would come. “I need to see him.” It was a desperate, yearning plea, yet the maid was having none of it. The door jammed against her toes, and she winced. The maid was winning the battle, her far stronger, well-fed, bulky frame inching Taya closer to the street.

  “What’s going on?” A male voice echoed across the hall, and the maid stopped.

  “It’s this beggar, Sir.” The woman held the door steady as she turned to face the speaker. “She wishes to talk to you.” Her voice was sneering, only slightly mollified by deference to her master.

  “Let me see.” The man walked forward, and the maid reluctantly released her hold on the door. Tay’s eyes roved across a well-tailored, dark blue suit, which framed a lean body, and a cane of some dark wood laid carelessly in slender, elegant fingers. Casting her gaze upward, she stared directly into a pair of deep-blue eyes, which were alight with interest.

  “I need to see you, Darius.” She appealed directly to him, holding his gaze with silent entreaty. She ignored the scandalised tut of the maid as she took a step forward. “It’s important.”

  Darius thought for a moment before he nodded. “Let her in,” he said to the maid, stepping back along the hall. With a look of shock on her features, the woman stepped away from the door and let Taya into the house.

  Heat enveloped her as she followed Darius’ beckoning finger and stepped off the street. The maid closed the door behind her as she slowly crossed the hall toward a door on the left. Her eyes drifted across the panelled space, awed by the luxury she saw. Dominated by a sweeping staircase, the hallway was decorated in shades of gold and blue. A heavy chandelier, festooned with lights, swung from the ceiling, and it was blissfully, wonderfully warm.

  “Come on girl.” Tay’s head snapped back to the doorway, and she almost tripped over her own feet, as she hastened toward the sitting room. A fire blazed in a large hearth, filling the room with a cosy light. Above the mantel, a gilt-framed mirror reflected her scared and lost face. Several comfortable-looking couches laid about the room, and a variety of expensive knick-knacks were arranged on a wooden cabinet against the left wall. Intimidated, she looked around at the luxuriant surroundings and swallowed nervously.

  “Warm yourself up.” Darius indicated the roaring fire, and she stepped before it gratefully, feeling the heat radiate across her cold skin. “Emma.” He turned to the maid. “Can you find me some old clothes?” With a sour look on her face, Emma nodded. As soon as she had left, Darius turned back to the room. “Now that she’s gone,” he said as he walked forward. “Why don’t you tell me what you want?”

  Taya bit her lip and fidgeted. What had seemed like a good idea in the safety of her home, now felt like insanity. She glanced at him, noticing the arrogant cast to his features and the surety of his gaze. He was handsome, she realised with a jolt. Beneath a shock of black hair, deep blue eyes stared out at her with disconcerting directness.

  “My name’s Taya, and…” She stopped, wondering how she could continue with her request.

  “And?” he encouraged, noticing her hesitation. “I can’t help you if you don’t ask.”

  “My father has just been sent to the Mine,” she said quickly, watching the realisation cross his face.

  “I see,” he noted so
ftly, staring at her with interest. “And?”

  “He already has a weak heart,” she found herself saying. “The Mine will kill him.”

  “I fancy that’s the idea,” he uttered, reaching for a glass of amber liquid that laid on the mantel, and took a sip. “What do you expect me to do about it?”

  “You’re the son of the Overseer,” she argued, her voice becoming stronger as she attempted to argue her case. “They say you can get people released.”

  “Possibly.” He took another sip and regarded her closely. “Who is he?”

  Taya swallowed nervously, hoping that her gamble had paid off. If she were wrong, he could have a guard here within moments. “Caleb Emerson,” she announced, fear rippling through every syllable.

  “The saboteur,” he whispered, understanding crossing his features. “He’s a high-profile prisoner.”

  “He was set up…”

  “I have no doubt,” he answered, mockery rippling through his tones.

  “It’s true.” She was angry now. “They pinned it on him because he was protesting at the ration reduction. He would never…” He held up a hand, and she stopped speaking, breathing rapidly with the sudden rush of emotion.

  “All right I get the point.” He fell silent, regarding her closely. For several long moments, he said nothing, his face creased in thought. Tay watched him with increasing impatience.

  “Please.” She moved to stand before him, her voice pleading as she stared at his face. “He won’t survive, and his ration will stop. I have two siblings. We’ll all starve.”

  “It’s not as simple as that,” he said finally, looking down at her. “Your father has been sent to the Mine to die, you must know that.” She glanced away from his gaze, unwilling to see the truth reflected there. “If I manage to get him released, my head is on the block.”

  “Then get him transferred,” she pleaded, trying not to let tears flow. “Put him on a lighter duty, anything that will keep him alive.”

  “It’s a big risk.” He swallowed the last of the drink. “Particularly as your family…” He left the statement hanging, reminding Tay of her mother’s death during an earlier rebellion.

  “Please.” She did not wish to beg, but she could see no other option. With her father incarcerated for a similar offence to her mother’s, she would be barred from all but the most menial work. She had barely scraped together the rating for the job she had been doing, and her father’s arrest had ended that employment. Any work she was eligible for would never feed the three of them. The fire popped, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.

  “Alright,” he said finally. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thank you.” Relief flooded through her, and she stepped back, eager to leave the oppressive luxury of this room.

  “Just one thing.” She froze, sudden fear spiking through her. “What are you offering for my help?”

  Tay’s mouth dropped open in shock. He couldn’t be asking for payment, they had never said that he would. “I thought…” she gabbled, feeling trapped by the room and her fears.

  “You thought I did this out of the goodness of my heart?” He gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Not a bit of it, this is going to be dangerous for me. What are you offering for my help?”

  “I don’t have…” She stopped speaking and stared up at the man, a desperate look on her face. There was nothing she could offer him, one glance at the riches around her told her that. She could feel her father’s freedom slipping away from her, as a tense silence settled over the room.

  For a moment, neither spoke, until Darius finally broke the quiet with a sigh. “If you have nothing to offer, then…” He started to walk toward the door.

  “Wait.” Sheer desperation moved her to intercept him. He stopped, looking down at her, a question in his eyes. “I can…” She stopped talking, unable to verbalise the mess of thoughts that were swirling around her head. Sure of what he wanted, she slowly moved her hand to the top of her ragged shirt and began to undo the buttons. “If this is what you want.” Her third button slid open beneath her trembling fingers.

  “No.” He reached forward and caught hold of her fingers, stopping them from their work. Pushing her hands aside, he closed the shirt, doing up the buttons with careful motions. “That,” he said, as she stared at him in shock, “is too cheap a price.” He finished with the last button and stood back. “I certainly don’t need to buy sex, and I would never take it as payment for this.”

  “Then what?” she asked, misery running through her voice. “I don’t have anything at all.” While she was grateful that he had turned her down, her body had been her only bargaining chip.

  “I’ll tell you what.” He moved back to the chair and sat down. “If I do this, then you have to owe me a favour. One that I can call in at any time.”

  “What kind of favour?”

  “Don’t worry, it won’t be beyond your capabilities.” He favoured her with a hard-searching look. “Well?”

  She hesitated, unsure of agreeing to such a broad favour.

  “I won’t ask you to sleep with, kill or steal from anyone,” he uttered, looking at her face with some interest.

  “Okay,” she whispered, looking at him with what could only be described as a frightened rabbit expression. “I agree.” It wasn’t an ideal situation, yet she had little choice. Her father would not survive for long down the Mine, and once he was dead, the rations of food and fuel would cease. The authorities were clever: even if you were sentenced to forced labour, the fuel and food payments were still paid to your family. Of course, they stopped on your death, and it was ensured that you died quickly. The authorities didn’t believe in martyrs; they continued payment to seem generous, to claim that the guilty party was responsible for the starvation of the rest of the family. After all, should you die through chastisement, you have doomed those you loved.

  “Good.” He reached out and picked up a steaming cup of tea. “Here.” He handed the cup to her and retreated to the sofa whilst she drank in tiny sips.

  “I have some clothes ready, sir.” The maid returned to the room, her arms laden with garments.

  “Thank you.” He looked down at Taya and continued, “I think you had better take this one to the washroom and let her change.”

  “But sir…”

  “Don’t argue.” His voice, though soft, cracked out like a whip. “I’m being charitable, not you.” He looked over at Taya. “Go with Emma and get changed.” His tone of voice had altered, becoming blander, yet somehow patronising. Tay almost bristled at the condescension, yet she knew that would be an unwise thing to do. He was clearly playing up the charitable act bit, and she couldn’t jeopardise any future assistance.

  Following the woman into the hallway, she was led to a closed door. Following the woman’s direction, she struggled with the door handle and walked inside, her mouth dropping at the room she saw beyond. It wasn’t a particularly large room, yet the tiling shone white and clean beneath the steady gas lamps, the toilet was familiar, but the sink had hot and cold running taps. Indoor plumbing was rare, and piped hot water even more so.

  “Hurry up girl.” The maid interrupted her train of thought, and she closed her mouth, accepting the bundle of clothing with a stunned expression.

  “Consider yourself lucky that the Master saw fit to assist you,” the maid commented, as she watched Taya remove her clean, but worn, clothing. Soon she was standing in her underwear, exposing her skinny frame to the chill air of the bathroom. She avoided looking at herself in the mirror that rested above the sink, unwilling to see just how bad she looked in contrast to the richness of the room. The new clothing was of good quality and, more importantly, intact. As she drew the fabric over her skinny frame, she felt better, warmer, and a lot more human.

  “It’ll do, I suppose,” the maid noted grudgingly. Pushing open the door, she led Taya back into the hallway.

  “That’s better,” Darius’ voice called from the end of the hall,
and she stopped, staring with interest at the pair of boots he held in his hands. They were good quality, brown leather and barely worn. “Take these.” He held them out, and she started, looking at them as though she had never seen shoes before. “They would replace those scraps of leather on your feet.”

  “Thank you.” She took a step forward and slowly extended her arm, touching the smooth leather with wonderment.

  “Just take it,” he said with a touch of irritation.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, as she took the items from his hands. “Why so generous?”

  “I can afford to be,” he replied in an equally low whisper. “I’m afraid that’s all I can do for you at the moment.” He raised his voice as he walked back toward the parlour. “See the girl out Emma,” he ordered over his shoulder as he left Tay in the hall, a bundle of clothes in her arms.

  “On your way then.” The maid seized hold of her arm and dragged her to the door. “And never let me see you plying your trade in here again. The Master will have none of the likes of you.” Her fingers dug painfully into Tay’s arm.

  Tay did not protest as the other woman propelled her through the door and outside. The cherry-red door slammed shut behind her, and she was left in the street, the chill fog reduced somewhat by the new clothing. Carrying the new boots, she left the steps of the mansion and hurried down one of the side streets, hoping to find some place to change unobserved. She found a dry spot and hunkered down. The mixture of new and old clothing fell into an untidy pile as she removed the rags from her feet. Pulling on a new pair of socks, she reached for the first boot. She stopped, looking into the boot with confusion. Hidden within the leather was a small slip of paper. She removed it with shaking fingers and read the elegant script silently.

  Meet me at the Webster Fountain at noon tomorrow. There are things we need to discuss.