The Golem City (Complete)

Chapter Three

"SHIFT CHANGE!"

Dorothea woke with a start, imagining herself back on board the ship, but she found herself alone, in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. Her hand immediately went to her throat and was relieved to feel the familiar purse around her neck. A flock of birds flew past the bedside window. Looking out, she saw a spacious town square paved in grey cobble slate, surrounded by a collection of two-story townhouses with wilting trails of smoke rising from their chimneys. The morning sun peeked out from behind them.

At the chained-off centre of the square stood a tower that rose above the town. Several loudspeaker horns, pointed in every direction, were nested at its zenith. A tram rolled through the plaza, carrying men with sooty faces in its many long, windowed carriages. Looking around, Dorothea tried to recall what had happened.

She remembered a gunfight on board the ship she'd been held prisoner on and her desperate attempt to escape her captors. She remembered an explosion and then being tossed over the side of the vessel by the force of the blast and the feel of the cold water as it engulfed her, sucking the warmth from her body. She had survived somehow. But where was she now?

Pulling back the bed covers, Dorothea set her bare feet on the cold floor and, with a gasp, drew them back. She spied her shoes at the bottom of the bed. She slipped them on. They were damp. Her eyes scanned the narrow, sharply peaked room of wood and stone. Beside the bed, there was a dark lacquer table with a small oil lamp seated atop of it. Every available space on the walls was filled with picturesque vistas captured in paint and celluloid, windows to distant lands, absent of men or artifice, nature at its purest, as of yet undefiled. Perched on a small chest of drawers was a delicate model boat, impeccably detailed and flawlessly painted. It was obvious that a lot of time and effort had gone into its making.

Dorothea crept towards the door and cracked it open. Delectable odours floated upwards, making her stomach growl terribly. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten. She stepped cautiously down the two flights of stairs, pausing to note a bedroom and bathroom halfway down, both of which were empty. She peered into a warm, well-lit kitchen. An ample-bosomed woman in a blue dress covered by a long white apron stood before a black iron stove, stirring a large pot with a long-handled spoon. Bowls of chopped vegetables sat in the centre of a trestle table and across the wall stretched a great oak dresser laden with gaudily decorated plates.

In the next room, a brawny gentleman sat eating at a table covered with machine parts. He wore a plaid shirt under blue overalls and was examining a partially assembled mechanism in one hand while chewing on a piece of toast. The stairs creaked beneath Dorothea's foot and she winced. He looked up, surprised, and then beamed at her.

"Ah! Awake at last. Penelope," he bellowed, "Turner's mermaid has found her land legs!"

Setting aside his meal and partial mechanism, the man walked over to a large wooden rig covered with black dials and copper tubing that appeared to be built into the wall. After turning several knobs fixed between twin escutcheons of a pick and hammer, the man wound a hefty crank in its side and lifted a long-necked microphone from its wooden cradle.

"Turner, boy!" he bellowed into it. " Your girl's awake. Come on back home."

Dorothea recognized the voice as the one from the loudspeakers that had woken her.

The woman set down her spoon and emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She had full cheeks and a kind face framed by curls of grey and white hair. "You terrorise that boy something fierce, Travis Hullin."

The man chuckled. He pulled a fine white clay pipe from his overalls and packed a wad of tobacco into it.

"Just having a little fun with the lad."