Daphne tried to ignore the peculiarity of her words as she spoke them. As far as she was aware, she had only seen two spirits: Colton and the little girl in Dover. Before last year, she’d thought that clock spirits were nothing more than legend. Even after the disaster in Maldon, Daphne had never even considered that a spirit had been involved. Not until she had gotten tangled up in the drama of Danny Hart, anyway.
She allowed some of her power to trickle into the clockwork, checking the movement of the gears, the flow of time around the tower, whether or not any part was catching. All seemed well here. Time’s fibers crisscrossed each other in pristine order, not a single thread out of place.
“I promise I won’t hurt you,” Daphne tried again. “I only wish to speak with you. Just for a moment.”
Another minute passed, and then another. She sighed. At least she’d tried.
Turning back to the entrance, she jumped back with a small gasp. A young man stood at the top of the stairs leading down to the platform. He looked Indian, but his hair was a hazy silver, his skin bronze. Amber-yellow eyes stared at her, bright and wary. He wore a long white tunic with baggy trousers, and he was barefoot.
Although his features were not golden—maybe the type of metal used for the clockwork had something to do with that—his eyes were the same shade as Colton’s and those of the spirit in the Dover tower.
Daphne licked dry lips, wondering what to say. She supposed there was only one thing to say. “Hello.”
The spirit cocked his head to one side. “Kyaa mein aapki madad kar satkaa hoon?”
Of course the clock spirit spoke Hindi. Daphne racked her brain for the proper phrase, hoping she didn’t mangle it.
“Do you speak English?”
He looked vaguely confused, then raised his hand in a so-so gesture, bobbing his head side to side. “English … little.”
“Fascinating.” She would have to tell Danny about this as soon as they were back in Agra. “What’s your name?”
“Narayan. Aap kahaan sey hain?” Where are you from?
“I’m from England. I’m here to look at your tower and—” But he seemed confused again, unable to follow her English. She began tapping her fingers against her thigh. “My name is Daphne. I am a ghadi wallah.” He nodded. “Is your clock …” Since she didn’t know how to express it in Hindi or Urdu, she used her hands to convey something breaking apart. “Trouble?”
Narayan shook his head. He rambled in Hindi, but she only caught a few words: time, city, and clock mechanics.
“Nothing is wrong here? You haven’t seen anything?” She pointed to her eyes, then to the clock face above.
“Nahi.”
Daphne swore softly. If the clock spirit hadn’t seen anything suspicious, then what was she doing here? Crosby had mentioned people skulking about the tower, but if they hadn’t actually done anything to the tower, what was the point?
“I …” Narayan paused, thinking hard as he chose his words. “I see, here?” He touched his forehead.
“You saw something? In—your head?” He nodded. “What does that mean?” He began to speak in Hindi again, but she waved her arms. “No, stop! Bas. I’m sorry, but I can’t understand you.”
She made an aggravated noise and walked in a circle. Narayan watched her, as if fascinated by her behavior. She wished she had a translator, but the only ones allowed inside were the ghadi wallahs, and there was no way in hell she would ask for their help, not after how they’d treated her.
If they knew what she was … No, that might only make it worse.
Desperate, she tried to talk to Narayan again, but their words passed without meeting. Daphne finally had to admit defeat.
“I want to know what you mean, though, about seeing things in your head.”
Narayan asked another question she didn’t understand. Frustrated, he pointed down at the floorboards, then at the door. At first she thought he was ordering her to leave, but then he said, “You here, come back?”
Her lips relaxed into a smile. “Yes, I can come back tomorrow, if you like. Subah ko? In the morning?” He nodded eagerly. She wondered just how lonely he was here, reluctant to speak to the other clock mechanics, with no windows but the clock face to look out from.
“I’ll come back,” she promised. “You can teach me more Hindi.”
He seemed pleased, but she couldn’t help but be disappointed. Aside from seeing strange people in the clearing, there was nothing to indicate an attack was coming.
If that’s true, she thought, then why was I brought here?
With arrangements made—her head spun at the idea of having a tutoring session with a clock spirit—Daphne left the tower and carefully retied her boots. Crosby descended on her within seconds.
“And? What happened? What did you find?”
“Nothing,” she said truthfully as she stood. “If someone’s planning on bombing the tower, they haven’t acted yet. I would like to come back tomorrow, though, just to be certain.”
“Yes, all right. Best to be sure.”
They returned to the billet. Crosby instructed her to ask Partha if she needed anything, as he would be in meetings the rest of the afternoon.
She did want something—a way to learn more Hindi. She didn’t trust the soldiers enough to bring them inside the tower, but she needed to know what Narayan was saying. A wasp of unexpected anger stung her. If only she’d learned from her father … though he hadn’t known much of the language either, come to think of it.
Maybe there was an Urdu or Hindi dictionary nearby. She tried walking through the billet, but Partha kept at her heels. He reminded her of an old toy she’d had as a child, a yellow wooden duck attached to a string. She’d clutch the string and the duck would roll along behind her, following her every step.
“You don’t have to come with me everywhere,” she eventually said. “You should go rest. Have some tea.”
Partha looked skeptical, but said that he would have someone posted to her door until he returned. Daphne rolled her eyes when he was gone. Finally, a moment to herself.
Maybe Akash would know where to find a dictionary. She asked a few servants if they knew where he was staying, but they shook their heads, eyes lowered, before they hurried on with their chores. Down another hallway, she nearly ran smack into a dark-haired Englishman in uniform. He gripped her arm to steady her.
“Here, love, I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s no matter.” His hand lingered too long on her arm, and she glanced at it distastefully. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Where you off to, love? Looking for some lunch?”
“I already ate,” she lied.
“All right, be on your way, then. You ever want to play cards, my room’s thirty-one on the first floor.” He winked.
Making a mental note to never go near room thirty-one on the first floor, Daphne hurried up the stairs to her own room. Just as Partha had promised, another sepoy stood guard at her door, and let her in with a silent nod.