12 Strokes of Midnight

Chapter 14

CopyrightⒸ 2019 by B. R. Bailey All Rights Reserved

The day passes slowly as we sit in the office, going over the claws to fix errors in the design.

Rain pelts the window, casting the room into grey shadows as the wind howls through the courtyard.

"Good thing we're working on miniatures," Archie says with a wink. "I'd hate to be at the shore during a squall. At least we saw the birds while there was time. Still, I won't know for sure how to adjust these better until I can see a bird catch a fish again. We'll have to wait for the storm to pass. It's not safe by the water right now."

Lightning flashes across the sky, filling the room with bright light, banishing the grey shadows momentarily.

A second later thunder shakes the windowpane, rumbling in the earth under my feet.

Flinching, I step away from the window, rolling a claw between my hands.

"Just a storm. We'll be fine on land. The lightning prefers to strike on the water more than on the Earth."

"That is true," I admit, frowning at my own discomfort. So what if there's a storm. So what if the lightning and thunder make me think of the tolls. I have three more days. Three days to decide whether to stay with Archimedes or go home.

And what choice is there really?

This is Archimedes!

Ancient Greece!

Inventors in this era are noticed and honored. No one wants me to build anything new in the future.

No one except Grandma...

Lunch and dinner pass in a blur as we skip them, working through the math of studying angles and mass.

By the time I hit the pillow, numbers, and symbols swim before my eyes, taking me into a deep, restless sleep.

11 tolls wake me, making me roll over and count them off on my fingers. Two days left.

The day is dreary, worse than yesterday. In fact, by the time the sun is rising, Amara and a few other maids are outside, closing up the shutters.

"Gonna be a bad storm, we've got to batten down the hatches."

Following their lead, I close and latch the shutters, protecting the windows from the fierce wind and occasional flying shrapnel.

Wax drips down candles in the office, the steady drops nearly lost in the driving wind shrieking through the shutters and pelting sheets of rain.

Idly, I can't help but wonder if the shutters will stay closed in the face of such powerful wind.

None of the others seem phased. They go about their day in the low light, talking and laughing together.

Perfectly normal precautions for their time.

Don't Grandma and Grandpa have shutters too?

We don't have any on our brownstone. One of our neighbors has some, but they're decorational, with screws through them. Besides that obvious point, they aren't wide enough to cover the whole window. So impractical.

Stop thinking about it, I chastise myself, shaking my head. This is one of the best eras for break-through innovations.

Fedele, walking over as he scratches the top of his head, carries in a tray of wine. "Thought you'd like a nice drink to calm your nerves."

"Thanks," I admit, but shake my head. "But no thank you. I need to keep my head clear."

"You're in good company then," he admits with a chuckle. "Nobody keeps their mind as sharp as Archie."