Andrei & Rhian

Prior to leaving for Leberecht, Zacharias made one final plea to Sinclair with regards to Avis, that he believed she was the only one who could sway Sebastian to take a peaceful stance. But perhaps there was more to it than that. Avis, Sebastian, and Zacharias had all been best friends. On one hand, Avis who was incapable of remembering the bad, and on the other, Sebastian who was incapable of remembering the good. Then, in the middle: Zacharias, remembering both, but remembering incorrectly. Furthermore, from what we were able to infer from Avis's behaviour on the recording, prior to reanimation, she was a free, fun-loving spirit who enjoyed surprises and celebrated what others perceived as flaws. We weren't sure how this was going to help us get out of our rooms, but we were certain it meant something.

While Sinclair conferred with Adeline, I replayed the recording.

"I'm back," I said into Adeline's horn.

"Enforcer Rhian, are you crying?"

"No, but also I might be."

After explaining to Adeline what we'd heard on the recording, I took a break for a bite of pastry and a sip of water. "Strauss doesn't think this is entirely about Avis anymore."

"True, and why would she do this to us?" Adeline asked. "It doesn't make sense."

"To be fair, I could easily see her putting us in timeout, but the codes and the clues?"

"It's a bit scary, isn't it?" Adeline said. "Avis and the brothers were ordinary people—living rather extraordinary lives, granted—but they were living their lives, and then a desperate and wildly unbelievable suggestion made out of pure love changed the course of the entire world. They could easily be us."

I rested my cheek against the wall by the horn. "Don't remind me."

"So, there are a few letters here from Sebastian," Adeline continued. "It seems after Jakob was born and Avis was reanimated, their relationship changed. She believed they'd all been made into monsters, and she blamed Sebastian."

"Frankly, I reckon she blamed herself most of all—the elixir was her idea."

"It's just awful," Adeline said. "And poor Zacharias having to decide whether to save their son's life. We know they argued that night. What do you think Avis wanted to do?"

"I'd wager she was on Zacharias's side. But when Jakob attacked Amsteg, she might've felt guilty for agreeing, and then guilty again for regretting it."

"I think so, too."

It went quiet for a moment.

"Can I make a confession?"

"Do what you want."

"I'm glad it happened the way it did," Adeline said. "Not the death and destruction, of course, but if it hadn't happened this way, none of us would be here. Or Sebastian. Or even Zacharias, who I admit has been steadily growing on me."

"That's reasonable," I said. "I'm glad you're here, too, mate."

"Would you like me to read you a letter?"

It hadn't been on the top of my list of things to do that day, but to be fair, none of whatever was happening was, so. "All right, let's hear it."

Dearest Avis,

A caravan mishap has resulted in a scheduling setback; I regret we won't be home for another few weeks. Sometimes I wish you would return to the road with us. Sometimes I wish Sebastian didn't need me so much. But then again, I need him, too, and I'm not certain who more. I know your business is important to you, and I would never ask you to give it up. But the truth of the matter is, one of us would have to sacrifice something instrumental to live wholly and who should it be? I suppose we'll have to settle with missing each other eternally.

I love you.

Zacharias

"Hrgh," I hrghed.

"Being on tour sounds so exciting," Adeline said. "I think I would choose the road. The way Sebastian describes it, they had these magnificently complex sets for their performances. I would have fun playing with those. What would you do on the Vonsinfonie caravan, Enforcer Rhian?"

"I dunno, mate. Artist, I reckon. Acrobat, maybe."

"Speaking of art, there are a few of Avis's drawings with these letters that are nothing like the storybook page we saw. These are all quite funny and seem to call attention to people's quirks in an endearing way. You should see Zacharias's nose."

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"I'd bloody love to see Zacharias's nose, seeing as that would mean we're no longer in these rooms," I said. "We ought to be sorting out the codes."

"Well, I've tried several combinations of numbers from the letters and documents I have here, but nothing sensible has worked. I'll keep trying, of course. What are the odds it's just one, two, three?"

"One, two—" Well, of bloody course. "Adeline, hold on. I'll be right back."

"Three?" I asked into the horn.

"Aye, we've been treating the code like the question, but maybe it's the answer."

"That is remarkably profound, Sinclair."

"One of my many fantastic qualities."

I chuckled. "True. So, you'll try three threes?"

"Aye, wait here."

"Where would I go?"

"Hrgh—" and then silence.

While Sinclair was attempting the combination, I considered what she'd meant by her comment. Whatever orchestration we were a part of did seem more of a lesson than a test.

"Bad news," Sinclair said. "When I tried three threes, the numbers locked into place, but my door didn't open, and now they're stuck."

"Well, that may not be bad news," I said. "Wait—Sinclair, hold on."

I moved to my own lock and felt around the dials. The numbers were beveled to my benefit, at least, but when I tried three threes, nothing new happened. I felt around the dials again—an eight had found its way into the triad. I spun the dial around, replacing the eight with a three. The mechanism locked into place, but nothing more. My door wouldn't budge.

I returned to Sinclair. "The same thing happened to mine with the three threes. Could you have Adeline try three threes?"

"All right," Sinclair said. "Hold on."

Adeline tried three threes, and a high-pitched sound whirred from my lock, and then a deep, satisfying click. On my way to the door, I stopped to examine a picture of Sebastian and Zacharias. They were more casually dressed than they typically were, Zacharias with his cello and Sebastian with his violin. Sebastian was smiling, caught dancing. Zacharias was smiling, barely, but he was happy. I could tell.

After tucking the picture in my boot, I checked the door with my shoulder, and when it opened, there they were.

The Writer, tall and stoic with her floating quill.

The Tinkerer, tiny and wide-eyed with a doohickey hovering over an open palm.

The Artist, missing in action.

All three of us stepped out of our rooms.

"We wondered how long it would take you," the Writer said.

"Yeah, we wondered," the Tinkerer added. "Who solved it?"

"Uh—Adeline made me think of the number three, I know the city has a thing for threes, we're three, you're three, they're three, and then Strauss sorted out that there were three sets of three threes, so—all three of us?"

The Writer quirked an eyebrow. Her quill twirled.

The Tinkerer winked. Her doohickey spun.

"You were helping us?" Strauss said.

"Yes," the Writer answered.

"Because The Idea never would have worked?"

"Correct." The Writer stood in front of Strauss. "Do you understand why not?"

"I believe we do," Strauss said.

"I knew you would." The Tinkerer rushed to Adeline, putting her arm around her waist. She smiled brightly. "Let's go, quickly now. We have work to do."

The Tinkerer and the Writer hurried us through The Studio, along the ramps, up, and up, and up until we reached the very top. Avis was with Zacharias and so we had plenty of time. And when we asked where Sebastian and Jakob were, we were told they were gone for a tour of the Vonsinfonie exhibit at the museum. To have been a fly on that wall.

"There's no helping Avis without the brothers," The Writer said. "She is our maker, and as such we cannot destroy her, either. But we tire of the cycle."

"Yeah, we tire," the Tinkerer echoed.

"When you all arrived," the Writer continued, "we knew you were planning something. Once we discovered what it was, we recognized an opportunity for alignment."

"You almost had it right," the Tinkerer said.

"Why couldn't you have just told us what we needed to know?" Sinclair asked.

The Writer answered, "Because to know is not the same as to understand."

"It's not the same," the Tinkerer echoed.

According to Sinclair, we were in the room from Michael's memory. The supposedly uncomfortable long chair, the workbench, the table with an open, empty book, art supplies, and this time, two chairs. Shelves spun around the room filled with hundreds of people's stories.

"Twice-blessed, it's yours to begin," the Writer said.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, guiding me to the chair beside the table and the open book. A feathery tickle against my cheek. The quill. I plucked it from midair.

"And to the Artist," the Writer said. "Your seat across."

Quiet for a moment until, "She means you, Enforcer Rhian."

"Oh, right." Sinclair took her place at the table opposite me.

"And we," the Tinkerer added, her tone light and airy. Two sets of footsteps as she ushered Adeline across the room. "We get to work together."

"And me?" I craned my neck over my left shoulder where the Writer stood.

"Together," she said.

"Wait, where's my immortal counterpart?"

"Making love to her husband," the Writer said.

"Right—well, good for her."

The Tinkerer and Adeline giggled.

And then, a heavy wash over the room when it fell silent. I prepared the quill.

"Ready?" the Writer asked.

Was I ready? Well, it was a little too late to wonder.

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