The Clockmaker's Shadow | ONC 2021 | LGBT

7. A Fresh Start

(Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to another new ONC friend, KatTheGrimm and her clockpunk timetravel story, The Illusionists)

Rik hurried back to the inn, eager to retrieve his belongings and return to his new home. What had begun as a chance endeavour had paid off, he could hardly believe his luck. Somewhere to work and live, all in the one spot, not to mention a rather gorgeous-looking employer.

He crossed the road, dodging between the bicycles, and entered the inn. He collected his key from the desk, returning only ten minutes later with his few possessions packed into a leather travel bag, to settle his account. He couldn't help hoping that the Viscount had installed decent plumbing in his home.

Rik was halfway back to the Viscount's residence when the dizziness struck. The world spun, everything turning a sickly grey-green before his eyes and he only saved himself from falling by leaning against the nearest wall, his free hand clutching at the stones. He gripped his bag tightly with the other hand, waiting grimly for the episode to pass. Eventually the world righted itself and his vision cleared.

Shakily, he continued on his way, rubbing his hand across his forehead. Damn it! That was the fourth time this had happened, and it seemed to him the episodes were getting worse. Could he be developing epilepsy? Was it possible at this time of life? Surely though, if that were the case, the attacks would occur more frequently, not spaced out between months at a time. Up until now, he had tried not to think too much about them, putting each incident down to standing up too quickly, or staying out in the sun too long. But neither of those circumstances were true today. Perhaps he should see a doctor, or whatever passed for one in this world. Evidently, hoping that if he ignored them they would go away, was not working.

Eventually he reached his new home and rang the bell. He was still feeling a little dizzy. With any luck, he could persuade Martin to bring him a cup of tea, or at least show him where the kitchen was so he could make his own.

Martin opened the door almost immediately, as if he had been waiting in the hall.

"Ah, you're here. Come this way, sir, and I'll show you to your room."

Rik followed him up the stairs.

"The Viscount's private quarters are that way," announced the butler, pointing to a passage leading off to the left of the landing. "You won't have any reason to enter that part of the house," he warned. There was a short pause before he added, "Unless you are invited, of course." He gave a brief, tight, smile.

He turned to the passage on the right.

"And your room is along here, just beyond the library." The library was a large open room, with a table in the centre, and a desk set against the heavily curtained windows, now drawn to protect the books from sunlight. Book shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling. Rik imagined he would be working there most of the time, and paused, hoping for a closer look but Martin kept walking.

The butler opened the door to the next room. "This one is yours," he said, standing back for Rik to enter. The room was small, but large enough for a single bed—already made up with a white quilt on top—a chest of drawers, and a narrow desk complete with stool.

"If you'd like to unpack, I'll see you downstairs when you're ready and I'll show you the rest of the house."

Rik nodded. "Thank you, I'll be down in a few minutes. I'm dying for a cup of tea."

When the Viscount returned home an hour or so later, he found Rik and Martin sitting cosily in the kitchen, with a pot of tea between them and two empty cups. From the slightly guilty expressions on each face, the Viscount guessed that he had been the subject of their conversation.

Martin climbed hastily to his feet, followed a second later by Rik. "Sir."

"Sit! Sit!" said the Viscount, sounding testy. "You don't have to be formal on my account." He turned to Rik, "When you've finished here, can I see you upstairs in the library and we can talk about your duties."

"Of course, sir. I'm ready now. Thank you for the tea, Mr Martin. It was a life saver," Rik smiled.

"Can I bring something up for you, sir?" asked Martin, still on his feet. "Tea? Or something stronger?"

The Viscount checked his pocket watch. "Brandy, I think, Martin. And bring two glasses."

Rik followed the Viscount upstairs, feeling much more like himself after the tea. He was looking forward to hearing what tasks the Viscount had in mind. Getting down to some hard work would be a good distraction from the horrors of the last world.

The Viscount entered the library and seated himself at the table, gesturing to Rik to take a seat on the other side. He put both elbows on the table and steepled his fingers.

"I thought I'd employ you as my personal assistant, as you suggested. I already employ men to oversee my business operations, so I don't need any help with that side of things."

A little disappointed—that hardly sounded strenuous—Rik asked, "So I'd be doing...?" He let his voice trail away.

"You can take over the tasks I don't have time for, or that are getting beyond Martin. In fact, I have some errands you can run for me tomorrow."

"Can I ask about the nature of your business?" Rik asked, curious.

"Of course. I own a couple of watermills on the river Sledge. Both of them cut wood, now. I began with grinding flour, but cutting wood to order is more profitable."

"Really? Watermills? I'd love to see them," exclaimed Rik, his eyes alight with interest.

The Viscount smiled tolerantly at his eagerness. "You can accompany me on my next visit, I usually inspect the mills every Freyasday. It will be useful having someone to take notes for me and you can organise our transport. Both mills are on the outskirts of the city so I take a cab there and another back, Martin can give you the name of the company we use. That's a job you can take over from him."

"Yes, sir," agreed Rik.

"This is going to work out well," the Viscount said with sudden enthusiasm. "I can already think of lots of ways you can help me."

Their eyes met across the table. The Viscount's lips were curved and his eyes sparkled.

Rik swallowed. What was he...? Was he really...?

Rik dropped his eyes hastily, afraid he was leaping to conclusions. He cleared his throat.

"So, what errands have you got for me tomorrow?"

The Viscount leant back in his chair and straightened his cuffs.

"I have a special gift ordered from the best clockmaker in town. You could collect it for me."