Lumière (The Illumination Paradox)

THE

ILLUMINATION

PARADOX

Series

JACQUELINE E. GARLICK

Lumière: A Steampunk Fantasy
 , a novel, 1
st
 edition: November 2013

Published by Amazemo Books, Ontario, Canada

Copyright © 2013 by Jacqueline E. Garlick

Cover Art copyright © Kevin C.W. Wong & 
Mae I Design and Photography

Interior Design by
 
Novel Ninjutsu

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except for purposes of promotion by the media, not to exceed 10% of the content.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events and/or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

D
edication

For my brother Brad, for obvious reasons.

Always a force in the face of adversity.

For my father Jack, for whom I was named, and whose imagination and sense of humor I thankfully inherited.

Thank you for always encouraging me to chase my dreams

and stretch my imagination, and for showing me how.

You are missed.

Oh, and I know this won’t make you happy but . . .

I quit my day job.

P
rologue

Eyelet—age eight

A brass mechanical elephant strides toward me, glinting gold in the amber setting sun. Its trunk is raised; steam clouds chug from its nostrils. The carnie at its controls peeks out from behind the breastplate, shouting for me to move out of the way.

But I don’t.

I stand frozen in the midway, staring up at its jewel-plated armor and sparkling gemstone eyes, imagining I’m one of the lucky children riding aboard its copper saddle, beneath the bright pink parasol that shades its back.

Frantic, the carnie pulls back a tusk and the mechanical beauty trumpets, sounding a little bit tinny, yet magically—
elephant!
Its mouth opens wide, showing off a ruby-crested tongue and a row of splendid ivory teeth.

Oh, how I
love
this machine. The way its gears work inside its head so perfectly, unlike the gears inside my own.

“Out of the WAY, KID!” the carnie shouts again.

I hear him but still I don’t move.

“Eyelet!” My mother’s hand bites down hard on my shoulder, snatching me out of the way. A house-sized plume of dust rises under the elephant’s foot, marking the spot where I used to be.

“You could have been killed!” She shakes me by the shoulders. “What were you thinking?” She drops to her knees. “Was it a daydream? Or was it one of your episodes?” Her eyes are wide and fearful.

I shake my head, but the truth is I don’t know. Could it have been an episode and not just my curiosity that held me there? I’ve been slipping in and out of episodes so much more lately—it’s getting harder and harder to tell.

“Oh, Eyelet.” Mother’s face sours. “What am I to do with you?” She crushes me hard to her chest.

Nothing,
I think. It’s not up to
you
. Father’s promised to fix me. And he will. As soon as he perfects the machine.

I push back in protest, too big for such coddling at nearly nine. “Oh, Mother,” I say. “You needn’t worry so much. My condition is only temporary. Remember what Father said?”

She blinks at me through glistening green and blue-flecked eyes, and for a moment I don’t think she believes in Father as much as me.

“Besides,” I say, changing the subject. “Did you see him? The elephant, I mean. Did you saw how positively
delicious
he was?”

“That I did,” she says, the lines softening on her face.

“The way he moved. It was absolutely
perfect.”
I turn, watching the elephant clatter up the midway. “And his trunk.” I turn back. “It even blew steam! And they have a Ferris wheel, over there”—I point—“made out of a
gigantical
gear! They’re giving people rides in its teeth, if you can believe it.”

“I can’t,” she says.

“I
know!”

She grins.

“And there’s long-legged clowns—oodles of them, everywhere.” I put a hand to my mouth and whisper in her ear. “
Well,
they’re not actually long-legged, they’re short-legged walking around on stilts, but I don’t want to spoil it for the other kids.”

Mum laughs.

“And one of the clowns, a short one, flew right up and
over
my head.” I show her with my arms. “He shot right out of the mouth of a cannon, he did. Grease-painted face all smudged with soot, wearing one of the biggest grins I’ve ever seen!”

“You’re enjoying yourself then? Carnival is a success?”

“Brilliant.” My chin snaps toward my chest. “Only thing that would make it better is if Father were here.” I look back at the gates. “He’s supposed to be coming, isn’t he?”

Her eyes linger on the horizon a little longer than they should. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.” She bites her lip, which makes me not believe it. “Until then,” she looks back at me, mustering a smile, “how about some taffy to fill the void?” She pulls three gleaming jewelets from her purse and my eyes widen.

“Three jewelets,” I say. “That’s a
lot
of money.”

She leans in close, her voice a teasing whisper. “Dad would think it spent on a good cause, don’t you think?”

I grin. “Most certainly.”

“All right then.” She stands. “We best go get in line, before they’ve sold all the sweets.”

I frown and cross my arms over my chest. “But I want to watch the elephant until he disappears. I won’t be able to see him from the line.”

She glances toward the elephant and back, and I see worry settle in on her face again.

“Please Mum, I’m afraid I’ll never get to see anything like it again.”

“All right,” she reads my disappointment. “But promise me you’ll stay put.”

“I promise I won’t move from this very spot.”

She drifts off across the fairgrounds, looking back over her shoulder from time to time to make sure I’m still standing where I should be.

I am.

The midway crackles with the sounds of whistling dynamite, creaky gears and children’s screams. The air tastes dipped in sugar. The elephant saunters toward the back gates flicking its ears at make-believe flies. I do hope Father makes it in time to see him. Where could he be, I wonder? I gaze at the gates. He promised he’d come. And he never breaks his promises. Even the ones he can’t possibly keep.

I close my eyes and his face comes to me this morning in the kitchen. I hear the soothing sound of his voice in my ears. Smell the lingering scent of pipe tobacco on his neck as he pulls me in for a hug.

“You will be there, won’t you?” I fall back and stare at him through serious eyes. He’s been working an awful lot lately, and later than ever, too. Mum says it’s because of the
de-motion
.
Father says it’s because he’s so smart they can’t get along without him.

He leans in, caramel eyes staring back at me just as seriously. A match to my very own. “How much do you trust me?” he whispers, and I smile.

I know this game and exactly how to play it. “As much as the stars and the moon and the pesky ol’ sun,” I say, doing the hand signs—first crossing my fingers, then curling them into a C, then pinching together my finger and thumb to form a circle. My other three fingers wave behind, like the glistening rays of the sun.

It’s our little ritual whenever I have to face something hard that I don’t like. His promise to me that everything’ll be fine.

He pulls me in for one more hug and I melt against him, breathing his smoky aroma deep into my lungs. I could hold on forever, but I don’t.

“I’ll be a little late.” He stands and kisses Mum, whispering into the back of her hair. “I’ve business to attend to out in the Follies,” he adds.

“The Follies?” Mum draws back looking singed. Her green-blue eyes turn watery grey. “What’s out in the Follies that’s important enough for you to leave the safety of Brethren?”

“Don’t worry,” Dad smoothes her cheeks with his hands and kisses her again. “I’ll be back in time to join you both before sunset. I promise.” He presses something bright and shiny in Mum’s hand. “Until then, keep this safe for me, will you?” he says then whispers in her ear. “Or rather, for Eyelet—for her future.”

He doesn’t think I hear him, but I do.

Mum stares at the object lighting up in her hand, closing her fingers over it before I’ve had the chance to see. “What is it?” she asks.

“I’ll explain later.” Father eyes flick from her to me and back again. ”For now, just promise me you won’t let it out of your sight?”

Mum nods and he slips away. And I forget to say, “I love you.”

Honk!
A clown flits past, his horn blasting my thoughts back to the present.

“Witness the magic of the Great Illuminator! Watch photographs come to life before your very eyes!” A man’s voice barks from inside the carnival tent behind me. “Gaze through a sheet of metal! See beyond a block of wood! Count the coins inside your purse!”

The Great Illuminator? The coins inside your purse? It can’t be, can it?
Father?
I can’t help myself. I must see. I’ll only be gone a second.

Bolting across the midway, I fall to my knees and duck my head beneath the flap of the red–and-white-candy-cane-striped tent. But to my dismay, it’s not Father at all, just a carnie, dressed up to look like a professor in a pinstriped suit and bowler hat.

“You, sir!” the carnie shouts. “Don’t you want to know what your wife carries ’round in that carpet bag of hers?”

The crowd chuckles as the couple blush.

“You’re not the least bit curious to know how much she’s worth?” The carnie’s voice lilts. The crowd’s heads swing, curious. The young woman’s cheeks start to glow. She turns to her husband and grins.

“Come on, now, don’t be shy. I won’t bite.” The carnie waves the young woman to the front. He’s balding and thin as a communion wafer, with kippers for lips, they’re so scaly. I can’t help but wonder what’s happened to him, for his skin to look so weathered. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was part gator.

He glares out over the crowd through a set of dead lark’s eyes, all dried and dull, standing atop a soapbox, like he’s some sort of king.

“Come, now,” he prods the couple, eyeing the man. “You can’t tell me you’re not a little bit curious?”

The crowd stirs like a herd of hungry cattle impatient to be fed, their lollie eyes flicking backward and forward. The husband finally nods and shrugs the young woman from his arm. She grins, dancing to the stage through the hum of the crowd.

“That’s right.” The carnie instructs her. “Stand up straight, right there, over that X.”

The woman skips up the stairs, takes her place.

“What’s your name?”

“Mrs. Benson.” The young woman blushes. “S
oon-to-be
Mrs. Reginald Benson.” She raises her chin proudly, gazing dreamily at the man she’s left in the crowd. A chorus of “aaahhhhs” floats about the tent.