by Mark Piggott

Findley stared at her pocket watch, the moonlight reflecting off the glass. The glow from the dial enabled her to read the time even in the dead of night—four minutes to midnight. Findley worried about the timing as she counted the seconds in her head. The conjunction lasts one hour. This is my only chance. Everything had to be done with precision and speed if she was going to reach her objective.

Findley looked at the picture under the lid, a portrait of her with her father, both Foxhares, smartly dressed in pinstripes and ruffles. Their rabbit-like ears and fluffy fox tails stood out in this simple photo. Sorry, Dad, but this is the only way!

She stared at the picture of her father and sighed. Her heart fluttered as her mind flooded with fond memories. He taught Findley everything she knew about machinery as a horologist, especially the intricate gears and springs inside a clock. He hoped she would follow in his profession, but Findley used it for other purposes besides repairing timepieces.

Findley was a thief and a good one at that, especially when picking locks or bypassing security systems. She learned her trade on the streets of Alfar City while running with the gangs operating out of the slums hidden in the dark corners of this theocratic militant state. She made exquisite machines for each job, sometimes selling her tools of the trade to the highest bidder for a cut of the take. Findley was considered one of the best in the business for someone barely in her twenties.

Tonight, though, it was different. This evening, under the moonlit sky, Findley watched and waited for her chance . . . an opportunity at redemption and the ultimate prize. She closed the watch, tucked it away, and studied the objective from her rooftop perch. It stood over 500 meters tall, with an imposing steel and stone structure. The lofty parapets, disfigured gargoyles, pointed arches, and flying buttresses offset the gothic tower by the giant clock face on the north facade.

It was called the Clock Tower, but this spire was more than a mere timepiece. The throne of the monarchy, the treasure vault, and the central prison were all under one roof inside this massive structure. When someone said they were going to the clock tower, you never knew whether the outcome would be good or bad.

The tower cast a massive shadow over the heart of Alfar City, like the hand of a sundial, telling time by sunlight and moonlight. With three moons throwing light over the world, they never knew what true darkness was, but Findley knew that would change tonight. Alfar City would be engulfed in the blackest night, a void of eternal darkness.

As the daughter of a horologist, Findley understood the relationship between time, the moons’ phases, and the stars’ alignment. Many clocks and timepieces often displayed both time and astrological movements, making celestial mapping an essential tool of the trade. She knew all about the coming convergence—when the largest moon, Ymir, would eclipse the two smaller moons, Baldur and Freyr. It would only last an hour—but that was all the time Findley needed.

She pulled the hood of her cloak over her ears, drawing it around her face. Findley stayed in the shadows, avoiding the gaze of the tower guards—Owlbears. These demi-humans were often used as soldiers and security due to their ferocity, guile, and tenacity. They had excellent noses for detecting intruders but terrible eyesight in low light. Findley hoped to take advantage of that when she began her assault on the clock tower.

She looked up in the sky and watched as the conjunction began its dance amongst the stars. The moons inched closer with every passing minute as a giant shadow fell across the city, and then it happened. The convergence engulfed Alfar City in absolute darkness. Findley heard the screams and cries of the people below as panic set in. Lights went on in every building, but the illumination only brightened the ground-level cityscape. The clock tower remained dark as the light below could not reach the massive structure.

Findley stepped to the roof’s edge and pulled her goggles over her eyes. She adjusted the optics, slowly tuning the lenses until her eyesight adjusted to the total darkness covering the tower. A soft green light glowed from the lenses and illuminated her surroundings. The handmade night-vision goggles worked perfectly.

She stepped up on the ledge, carefully keeping a sure footing on the stone outcropping. She examined the clock tower closely until she found her target—a balcony protruding from the structure nearly halfway up the spire. It belonged to Marquis du Crémant, the king’s advisor. In a situation like the convergence, his duty was to be with the king. That meant his office should be empty, allowing Findley to sneak into the tower. The hard part was getting up there.

Without hesitation, Findley fell forward, plummeting toward the ground. She dropped like a rock, trying to pick up speed while counting the seconds as the ground inched closer and closer. With seconds to spare, Findley pulled a ripcord from under her cloak. Gears clicked and turned as springs forcibly ejected a pair of wings from within her backpack. The bat-like wings of aurilite tubing and woven fabric caught the air. Findley swerved upwards, gliding right along the side of the clock tower.

She had practiced this maneuver for weeks in the canyons north of Alfar City, searching for months until she had found a place resembling the height and spacing between the tower and the surrounding buildings. Her research and relentless practice were about to pay off.

Except, Findley realized she might not reach her destination. The air currents generated by her fall pushed her higher and higher up the side of the clock tower, but as she closed in on the marquis’s balcony, she began to slow down. It must be the difference in the air currents between here and the canyon!

Deep down, her heart began to race, but Findley knew better than to panic. Fear wasn’t a beneficial asset for a thief, so she made a quick decision. She released the ripcord, causing the wings to retract back into the backpack. I can do this! She repeated the mantra in her head. The talons should work!

Her momentum kept her going toward the tower wall, and right before she hit, Findley reached out for the wall. She opened her hand and flexed her wrist, activating a mechanism within her gloves. Sharp claws of dimonium steel popped open and extended more than two inches from her fingertips. She used the last of her flying momentum to lunge at the tower, latching onto it with all her strength.

Findley gripped the stone wall, desperately trying to get her footing, but the smooth stone made that nearly impossible. Realizing it was necessary to deploy her second countermeasure, she clicked her heels together. A three-inch dimonium blade popped out from the tip of her boots. She kicked as hard as she could, burying the edge into the stone.

That was close! Too close for comfort! She breathlessly exhaled as beads of sweat trickled down her face.

Findley stopped for a minute to get her bearings, exhilarated and terrified, as she glimpsed at the sheer drop beneath her. She took a couple of deep breaths and then slowly began her climb, ensuring her grip and footing were secure with each move up the wall. She had less than fifty feet to reach the balcony, but it seemed like a mile to her.

Time was limited. Findley hurried along her ascent as best as she could. When she reached the balcony, she could hear voices coming from inside the marquis’s office. She dug her nails into the edge of the balcony and pulled herself up to peer over the edge. The light inside the office shone brightly through two large glass and metal doors, nearly blinding Findley in her night-vision gear. She closed her eyes, gripping the ledge with one hand and raising her goggles with the other. Once adjusted, she glanced over again until the doors swung open.

A tall, lanky Vorrat stepped out, quickly pulling a silk robe tight over a ruffled shirt. Findley recognized his large nose and floppy ears, his stringy hair pulled back into a ponytail, and the sickly-sweet scent of perfume that filled the air. Vorrats were well known for their cunning and intellect, something Marquis du Crémant excelled in. He rushed to the balcony, staring into the darkness above him before looking across Alfar City. His sensitive ears could pick up the sounds of terror from every corner, which deeply concerned him.

“Marquis!” an Owlbear guard shouted as he followed behind the marquis. The musketlance clanged off the floor as he charged through the door with each step. Nearly seven feet tall, a mass of fur and feathers under plate armor, the Owlbear towered over the Vorrat. “Marquis du Crémant, Her Majesty, Queen Lilibeth, wants to see you immediately! The disappearance of the moons vexes her!”

“It’s called an eclipse, you idiot!” he corrected the guard as he stared up into the night sky. “The three moons are aligned in a perfect convergence that blocks all light in the evening sky. It’s incredible. They only happen once in a lifetime. Why didn’t my scientific advisors inform me of the possibility?”

“Will it end, or are we cursed in this darkness forever?”

“Fear not, my muscle-bound cretin, it will soon pass,” Marquis said, glancing over the balcony to the ground below. “Are there any security breaches to the tower that I should know about?”

“No, my lord, but people are beginning to storm the main gate as we speak, clamoring for answers. I’ve doubled the security forces there.”

“Good. For now, let’s go reassure our hysterical queen that this will soon be over,” the marquis growled before storming off the balcony. The guard started to follow but stopped for a moment, sniffing deep as a scent caught his attention. He returned to the balcony, snorting loudly as he tried to locate the strange smell.

Findley worried it might have caught her scent. She took every precaution to ensure she left no lingering odor on her person, including washing herself and her clothes with vinegar. It should have done the trick, but Owlbears had such sensitive nostrils that one never knew. Findley lowered herself back down from the balcony, moving under the lip of the edge.

The Owlbear gripped onto the balcony rail, peering over the side, snorting loudly as it tried to find that elusive scent.

“What are you waiting for, you imbecile? An invitation?” Marquis du Crémant shouted from inside his room, startling the guard back to his senses. He huffed before rushing back to follow the marquis.

Findley waited a moment, listening closely until she heard the door close behind them. Cautiously, she pulled herself onto the balcony, laying low as she crawled across the floor on her belly. She peered through the glass doors, checking if the room was empty. With her talons retracted, Findley quickly and quietly got to her feet and tiptoed across the room. Breathlessly, she watched for any movement in the light shining from under the door.

Findley pulled out her pocket watch to check her timing. Five minutes behind schedule, she mused silently before moving on. The convergence will only last for another forty minutes. I must get into the clockwork before it ends.

She tucked her watch away and scanned the room. There were paintings and busts of Marquis du Crémant scattered about the room. This man’s over-inflated ego made Findley dislike him even more. As she continued her search, Findley spotted what she was looking for—a ventilation grating positioned directly above the marquis’s desk.

The marquis’s room was in the top section of the clock tower. The central ventilation shaft, circulating fresh air inside the building, was above her and went all the way to the clockwork. It was a shortcut, a dangerous one, but the fastest way up there.

Findley climbed on the desk and reached into her tool belt. After carefully removing the grate with a screwdriver, she gazed up into the ventilation shaft. Her hair tussled about from the intense downdraft. The cold air sent a shiver down her spine. Findley decided to put the grate into a desk drawer, wondering if they would think to look for it there or even notice it was missing.

After extending her talons again, Findley jumped into the shaft, digging into the metal as she pulled herself inside. She crawled through the shaft, quite a snug fit, but Findley squeezed through until she reached the main shaft. It was a fifty-foot square vertical shaft that rose hundreds of feet to the top of the tower. The problem was what lay between.

Massive horizontal fans kept the shaft in a constant downdraft. Fresh air was pulled from the top of the tower and circulated throughout the building below. Those fans were the only thing that stood between Findley and the clockwork at the top.

The force of the air blowing through the shaft was fierce. Findley fought against the swirling winds, struggling to stay on her feet until she reached the wall. Slowly, she crouched down and went into her backpack, pulling out a small robotic flying fish.

“Okay, Skipper, time to go to work!”

The mechanism resembled a simple toy with articulated wings of copper wire and a flexible polymer. With the touch of a button, a mass of gears and springs came to life as it fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings. She let it go, and the mechanical fish flew toward the first fan. It circled the shaft, slowly rising through the air like a tiny robotic fish swimming against the current. Once there, electrical sparks shot out from its mouth and into the engine. The fan sputtered and slowed as the power surge traveled up the shaft along the conduits, suddenly causing all to stop spinning.

Expending all its energy, the little fish dropped from the air. Findley leaped to her feet to catch her valuable tool. “Good boy, Skipper!” She patted it on its head before tucking it back in her backpack. Now came the hard part of getting up the shaft as quickly as possible. With the fans shorted out, she should be able to get up to the clockwork. Findley had invented just the tool to help her reach her goal—a pneumatic harpoon gun.

She unholstered her ascension gun from her hip. It contained a compressed air canister with a hooked piton in the chamber connected to a coil of dimonium steel line. She opened the valve to prime the weapon before carefully aiming at the fan housing above. Findley knew she could climb the walls using her talons, but that would take too much time. Traversing the air shaft this way was much easier and more fun.

She fired the piton, launching it into the fan as the line spun out from the housing. Once the piton locked in, Findley flipped a second switch, and the coil retracted, pulling her up through the air until she reached the first fan. She climbed to the next level before unhooking the piton and repeating the process. Findley came to the third fan, with only two sections remaining, when she heard a familiar sound—the fan motors started to re-engage.

What? They’re rebooting the system! This should have been a low priority, unless . . . Findley cursed under her breath when she realized her mistake. She didn’t anticipate them restarting the fans in the ventilation shaft so soon. The fear stoked by the convergence might have panicked the royal family, so their comfort would be prioritized.

Findley had to act fast; once the fans reached full power, the force of the downdraft could push her back down the shaft or into the other blades. She aimed past the next fan toward the last one at the top of the air shaft. It took nearly the entire length of the dimonium line, but the piton finally locked into place.

She flipped the switch and started her ascent. Findley gritted her teeth tighter with each passing moment. Hurry, hurry! Her mind raced through the myriad of calculations to calm her nerves and, in part, pray for a miracle. Unfortunately, her prayer wasn’t answered. The fan kicked in and spun about, flinging the helpless thief around the shaft. Findley locked the spindle so she wouldn’t get pulled into the blades, but it only worsened things. As the motor picked up speed, it flung her mercilessly around as her grip began to weaken on the handle of her ascension gun.

Findley only had a slight chance to survive. She spied a small side shaft leading off the main about thirty feet down. She had no idea where it led, only that she had no choice.

Timing it just right, Findley used the momentum of her spin to swing into the smaller ventilation shaft. As she slid in, she snapped the line and freed the piton, her speed banging her around the tiny vent. Without warning, the shaft curved, and she crashed through a grate, falling into another room.

Findley landed hard, her head bouncing against the floor. She was momentarily disoriented, her eyes needing to adjust to the new surroundings. When everything focused, she noticed the room was pink and pastel-colored. Ruffles, overstuffed pillows, and various stuffed animals and dolls were scattered about the rather messy room.

It was then Findley noticed a pair of eyes staring down at her. They belonged to a young female Liger, one of the noblest breeds of demi-humans, with a flowing mane of multi-colored striped hair of white, orange, and black, sharp ears, and a wispy tail. Surrounding all that strength and nobility was even more pink ruffles in a frock underneath a tiny crown of gold and jewels.

Findley recognized her immediately—Princess Treena Meghaan Sharona Regalia, the one and only heir to the crown of Alfar City. The ten-year-old was the people’s darling, quite popular among all the nobles in the royal family.

“Hello!” said the little princess, staring at Findley with big green eyes. “Are you alright? You took a nasty fall from the ceiling.”

Findley slowly rolled over and pushed herself to a sitting position, but even that was difficult. Her head was still dizzy from the impact. She didn’t know what to say or how to act in front of Her Royal Highness. She feared the little princess might alert the guards, but for some reason, Findley sensed more concern than fear from the little girl.

“Here, drink some dramberry juice. It’ll make you feel better,” Treena said, rushing over to her table to get a glass for Findley. “They always bring me some at bedtime, but you can have it. I can always ask for more.”

The little princess handed her the glass of juice. Findley took it gingerly, unsure of the situation or how to act around the little princess. “Thank you, Your Highness,” Findley replied before taking a sip. The sweet nectar did the trick, as the sugar rush alleviated the throbbing pain in her head.

“What’s your name?”

Findley paused before responding, wondering if she should tell the princess her real name. She was a real charmer, and it was against her better judgment to tell her the truth. As a thief, anonymity is your best friend. It was a strange feeling, but deep down, her instincts told Findley that she could trust the little girl. Something in her eyes—an innocence with a glint of mild apprehension—stirred her troubled heart. Somehow, Findley knew she could put her faith in the little princess.

“Findley,” she uttered. “Findley Doyle.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Findley,” Treena said with a curtsey. “I guess you know who I am, don’t you?”

“Of course, Your Highness. It’s an honor to meet you.”

“I don’t get many visitors, just servants, tutors, and nannies. I usually don’t receive guests falling through the ventilation system either,” Treena added. “Is there something you need to tell me, or should I just call for the guards?”

Findley realized this little princess was far more intelligent than she appeared. “To be honest, Princess Treena, I’m here to find something my father left behind in the clockwork.”

“Your father?” Treena asked. “What do you mean?”

Findley spun her story to the little princess. Her father, Obadiah Doyle, was one of the clockmakers assigned to construct the clockwork within the tower. He worked diligently on fine-tuning the gears, springs, and timing mechanisms to ensure the clock worked to perfection. During his work, while installing one of the jeweled movements of the clock, his watchchain broke, and he lost his pocket watch within the clock mechanism. Obadiah could not recover it, and when he asked to look for it, his petition was denied by Marquis du Crémant. It seemed the marquis didn’t want to waste time looking for a sentimental timepiece and refused. Plus, he was always a distrusting soul, especially of commoners trying to get into the clock tower. Her father had repeatedly requested to go into the clock but was always denied. When his health started failing, Findley made the requests on his behalf, but she was also rejected.

“That’s why I decided to break into the tower tonight,” Findley concluded, handing the empty juice glass back to the princess. “I knew the convergence would be my last chance to get his watch back for him.”

“Well, if you don’t mind me asking, it’s a simple pocket watch. Why is it so important for you to risk your life for a trinket like that?” Treena inquired as she set the glass down. Findley sighed, realizing the truth behind her question and understanding why something like a pocket watch would seem so insignificant to a member of royalty.

“It was the last thing my mother gave my father before she died.” Findley clenched her fists tightly to control her temper. “It’s all he has left of her. Ever since he lost it, he’s been sick and dying. I think he’s dying of a broken heart.”

Her answer caught Princess Treena by surprise. Findley watched as the little princess touched the bracelet on her wrist, probably a gift from her mother. Findley knew she understood the relationship between a parent and their child.

“I know I have no right to ask this of you, but I am begging you, Your Highness,” Findley began, bowing her head reverently to the little princess. “I’m not here to steal anything of wealth or value to the kingdom. All I want is to get my father’s watch back. Please, let me continue my mission before the convergence ends.”

Treena thought for a minute and then smiled and chuckled. “It sounds like a great adventure! Let’s go!” The little princess jumped to her feet and started walking over to her wardrobe. Her sudden pronouncement caught Findley off guard.

“Go where?” she sputtered.

“To the clockwork, of course.” Treena twisted a handle on her wardrobe, causing the massive piece of furniture to slide open and reveal a secret passage. “It’s my favorite place to view the city from.”

Findley was shocked to see a secret passage, something her research never uncovered. “What is this, Your Highness?”

“The servants use these stairs to move up and down the tower,” Treena explained. “I use it to sneak up to the clockwork from time to time. It’s great fun!”

“Your Highness!” Findley exclaimed, grabbing the little princess by the shoulder. “I can’t ask you to help me in my endeavors. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Treena smiled slightly and replied, “But I like trouble; it’s more fun that way! Besides, I want to help set things right. By helping you, I am helping your father get better.”

Findley was touched by the kind sincerity of the little princess as a tear welled up in her eye. “Thank you, Your Highness. This means a lot to me.”

“Please stop being so formal, Findley.” The little princess clasped her hands around Findley’s. “You can call me Treena.” Her brilliant smile and bright eyes were intoxicating. Findley knew this princess had a great future ahead of her.

The two ran up the stairs, rushing past each step until they reached the top. Treena pushed open another secret door, and they stepped out into the clockwork. The sound was deafening inside the massive clock, from the constant ratcheting of the gears to the pendulum’s sway to a melodic beat. It was grace and precision in action, leaving Findley in awe.

Treena looked outside through one of the glass shutters and then tugged on Findley’s cloak to get her attention. The stars were the only thing they could see shining through the darkness. The city was still engulfed in the convergence. “It’s still dark outside. How much longer is this going to last?” she asked.

Findley pulled out her pocket watch and calculated the minutes. “Less than twelve minutes left,” she replied. “I’ve got to hurry.”

“Where was your father working when he lost his watch?”

“In the back of the clock, near the jeweled movement,” Findley pointed, rushing around the back of the clockwork.

“What’s a jeweled movement?” Princess Treena asked, rushing to follow her.

“Clockmakers sometimes use precious stones in place of metal parts to reduce the wear and tear caused by friction,” Findley explained, pointing up to the main bearing. It was a spindle of selenium ruby, the toughest and most precious gemstone known in the land. Jewelers and horologists prized the selenium ruby for its beauty, luster, and durability. “A jeweled spindle like that will last years longer than a simple metal one.”

Treena looked at the mechanics in awe. She hung on Findley’s every word of the clock’s inner workings. “So, where’s your father’s watch?”

“It should be sitting on one of the horizontal gears near the escape wheel,” Findley explained, taking off her backpack and setting it down.

“Well, how do you get up there? It must be a hundred feet up?”

Ignoring the little princess’s question, Findley pulled out a couple of mechanical fish. Princess Treena looked at the robotic fish with curiosity.

“What are those?”

“This is Gilligan and the Professor.” Findley held out the two devices in her hands. “They’re my heavy lifters.”

“What are they going to lift?” Treena asked.

“Me!” Findley said as she flipped the switches, activating the fluttering wings of the flying fish. The two of them hovered close to the ground. Findley stepped on top of each one, carefully getting her balance. She gripped a handheld controller, flipped a couple of switches, and then used her thumb to control the joystick. Slowly, Findley began to rise in the air, up toward the escape wheel and the associated gears.

Findley could see the little princess’s eyes light up as she floated into the air. She carefully manipulated the toggles and switches to position herself between and near the gears. Raising herself a little higher, she looked around each gear to find what she was looking for. She watched as the jeweled spindle precisely measured each tick on the clock.

And there was the pocket watch, opened, sitting precariously on the spinning gear. It spun around in a circle like a ballerina on tiptoes. Findley watched her mother’s picture under the watch lid dance as it turned on the gear. To the young Foxhare, it was like looking in a mirror. She saw her own eyes staring back at her.

Findley reached over and picked up the watch. Her heart skipped a beat as she showed it to Princess Treena, waving it proudly. The little princess applauded, jumping up and down, happy that Findley retrieved her family heirloom with relative ease.

Suddenly, the two were startled by the sounds of footsteps rushing into the clockwork. Treena ran around to see what was going on, leaving Findley on her own as she started her descent to the floor.

Findley kept an eye on Treena as the little princess moved cautiously across the floor. Princess Treena told Findley about all the ways in and out of the clock tower. The Owlbears patrolled on a strict schedule, and this sudden appearance wasn’t planned.

Her heart skipped a beat when she suddenly realized why. Findley spied Marquis du Crémant stepping out onto the floor with several Owlbears. The princess stopped in her tracks and headed back toward Findley just as she landed. She quickly packed her robotic fish into her backpack as Treena turned the corner.

“Findley! Marquis du Crémant is here!” she breathlessly warned her. “You’ve got to leave! Follow me; I know another way out!”

Findley slung her backpack over her shoulders and followed her close behind. Still, they were cut off by two Owlbears, leveling their musketlances, frightening them both. More Owlbears came up from behind, boxing them into a corner. Findley stood in front of the princess, protecting her from the menacing guards.

“Well, now, this is quite surprising,” a voice echoed from behind the Owlbears as Marquis du Crémant stepped forward. “I’m impressed you made it to the top of the clock tower. You might have gotten away with it, but your poor filing skills gave you away.” He tossed the vent cover at her feet, letting it rattle off the floor. Findley realized her mistake in stuffing it in the marquis’s desk instead of reattaching it.

“Now, I’m afraid we’ll be making your stay in the tower more permanent a . . .” The marquis stuttered and stumbled with his words when he finally noticed Princess Treena peeking out from behind Findley. “P-P-Princess Treena? Your Highness, what are you doing here? And with this . . . thief?”

Treena cleared her throat and stepped out from behind Findley. The marquis stood defiant, waiting patiently for the little royal to answer him. The Owlbears immediately raised their weapons and dropped to one knee, bowing their heads before Her Royal Highness.

“I came here to help Findley find her father’s pocket watch, Marquis du Crémant. She asked for my help, and I gave it to her, something you should have done in the first place!” The little princess stood firm, scolding the marquis for his inaction. Even one of the Owlbears chuckled at this tiny girl admonishing the tower administrator.

“Your Highness, I don’t know what this reprobate told you, but it does not excuse her breaking into the tower nor assisting this thief in her criminal activities. Really, what would your parents say?”

Frightened at the thought of having to explain this to her parents, Princess Treena was at a loss for words until she felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Findley reached out to comfort her newfound friend.

“It’s alright, Your Highness. I told you before; I don’t want you to get in trouble,” she reassured her. “I have to take responsibility for what I did tonight.”

Findley knew Treena didn’t want to disappoint her new friend. She went into this knowing that she could get into trouble for helping Findley. The princess was known for having a bit of a rebellious streak, but this was a little bigger than sticking your tongue out at the ambassador from Sephora.

Treena nodded at Findley but looked at the marquis with sheer contempt before she moved even an inch from her side. “I want your word, Marquis du Crémant. Findley will not be charged with anything associated with me. I came here of my own free will.”

The Marquis gritted his teeth at this little girl making demands of him, but he had no choice but to acquiesce as long as she wore the crown. “You have my word, Your Highness. I will not charge her with anything to do with your being here.”

Treena gave a loud gruff as she raised her nose to the marquis and walked away from Findley, stepping between the Owlbears. Once the princess was safe, Marquis du Crémant turned his attention to Findley.

“Now, then, seize her and lock her up. We’ll let His Majesty decide her fate once he finds out she kidnapped Princess Treena.”

Treena was taken aback by the marquis’s announcement. “But you gave me your word!”

“I said that I would not charge her with the crime of kidnapping, Your Highness. I did not say your father could not charge her. Such are the whims of a monarch desperate to protect the future queen of Alfar City. Now, arrest her!”

Just as the Owlbears leveled their musketlances at Findley, the sly Foxhare went into action. She threw down a couple of foxfire grenades, which exploded with a brilliant flash of glittery light and a plume of smoke that filled the air. The fumes from the foxfire scorched the inside of Owlbear’s noses, causing them to cough and sneeze violently. She then pulled out a quick-sealing respirator and slapped it over her face, and grabbed two more of her flying fish. Quick as could be, Findley tossed them into the air toward the guards.

“Let’s go, Ginger and Mary Ann! Clear a path for me!” she shouted. The robotic fish buzzed toward two Owlbears, their beating wings cutting into their armor and flesh. These mechanical fish buzzed with razor-sharp wings. The Owlbears separated, leaving a clear path for Findley to charge right through them.

“Stop her, you idiots!” the marquis shouted as he continued sneezing and coughing from the foxfire, but it was too late. Findley leaped through one of the clockface shutters, plummeting headfirst toward the ground. Everyone rushed over to the window to see what had happened to her.

The convergence ended as quickly as it began, and the moon’s light illuminated Alfar City again, bringing it out of the endless darkness. It was then that they saw her, with wings spread from beneath her backpack, flying across the rooftops toward the city’s outskirts, swooping down toward the slums and home.

Findley thought she saw a flash of a smile and a wave from the little princess behind the glass as she flew across the cityscape. That little Liger was a lightning rod, a tempered metal that could take on anything the gods threw at her, including the fury of Marquis du Crémant. She hoped the marquis wouldn’t take out his frustrations on Princess Treena, but deep down, she knew Treena would be just fine.

The one thing Findley knew implicitly was time and patience. She knew it would take them years before they discovered the selenium ruby spindle missing from the clock. It would take time for the aurilite spindle she replaced it with to wear down and break, causing the clock to fail. By that time, Findley and her father would be sequestered far away from Alfar City, with new identities and a new life, maybe somewhere by the sea. They’d be able to live easily off the money she’d make fencing the spindle.

She thought about spending some of her earnings on a present for Princess Treena to thank her for the help. She would watch the clock tower and watch for Her Royal Highness to sneak up there once more. When she decided to pay another visit to the clockwork, Findley would send the little princess a flying fish of her own. That would be fun.

“I think I’ll call it Minnow!” she pondered as she flew toward her father and home. He would be angry with her for risking her life and breaking into the clock tower, but in the end, he would do like he always did and relent. Besides, seeing his precious watch again would make him smile. Findley lived for that.

THE END