I am taking the opportunity now to go over everything I have written in the story about Danos and Makos, reviewing details, editing, and taking account of where the plot is going along with character development status. This may take a few days.
Well, I have over twelve thousands words built into the story so far. That's pretty cool. That may become smaller or larger by the time I am done fixing things.
This first bit includes only changes of phrase to make things flow easier, along with general formatting:
The night was dark, like most nights, really. Nobody ever threatened the Highwhistle property, certainly not after most people had gone to bed. That is exactly what happened this night.
Makos listened to the conversation beyond his bedroom wall. The walls weren't especially thick, and his bed was right alongside the wall that separated the room from the entryway of their humble house. He held his head a few inches above the nightstand and angled his ear just right. He could understand most of it. He had to use his imagination for the quieter parts.
"You shouldn't eavesdrop." His brother said, startling him.
Makos looked up at his brother who was peeking down from the top bunk, and hissed a reply, "Don't scare me like that!"
Danos scowled back. "If you weren't eavesdropping, it wouldn't have been scary."
Makos stuck out his tongue. "You're no fun. I'm not eavesdropping, anyway. I'm listening to what father is saying to the grumpy man." He turned his ear back to the wall and resumed his listening.
"That's the definition of eavesdropping."
Makos ignored his brother mostly, muttering something like 'I'll defnishun you.'
He focused on the voices again. It sounded like an argument about payments and time. Danos interrupted him again. "Father won't like you eavesdropping. You weren't invited."
Makos spun around and stuck his tongue out even farther this time, making sure to flare his nostrils. It was the ultimate tongue-face. He had invented it himself last week.
The tongue-face was wasted on empty air. Makos glared up at the bed above him. "Aren't you curious about payments and time?" He asked, huffing.
Danos' eyebrows rose, then he frowned. "No."
"Suuure you aren't." Makos agreed. He quickly moved his ear back to the wall.
The mumbling had stopped while he was distracted. He identified a creaking sound as the front door opening. Some short, unrecognizable words rose in volume until he could make out 'free days!' The door slammed shut and Makos listened just a moment longer. A shuffling of feet and squeaking of floorboards trailed around the wall and up the stairs behind the wall at the end of Makos' bed.
The steps groaned as his father climbed them one at a time. Makos had learned that his father always paused partway up the staircase. He'd noticed that if the pause came before the sixth step, his father would try to hide feelings of disappointment or sadness that next morning. The sooner the pause, the worse he would be able to hide it.
One, two. Pause.
'Oh no.' Makos thought. 'It's a bad one.'
Three, four. Pause.
'A second pause?' Makos worried. 'He must be feeling really horrible.'
Five. Pause.
Makos' jaw dropped.
Six, seven, eight. A moment longer of hesitation before the door to the upstairs bedroom creaked open and then closed softly.
Makos sighed loudly. He hated seeing his father sad. His father, Denan Highwhistle, was a very hard worker. He raised horses for the royal family. His skill was sufficient to tame even wild horses from the distant plains of the Feuli Empire. This made other nobility envious of the king's horses. The king, loving the attention, would offer Denan's services to all of his friends. This meant more work for Makos' father.
Unfortunately, it was unheard of to pay a horse tender more than any other servant, regardless of increased workload. Makos couldn't always make sense of why adults thought the way they did. He figured they should worry less and try to have more fun.
Letting out another sigh for his father's depression, he looked up at Danos' bed and whispered loudly, "What does 'free days' mean?"
Danos mumbled back, "'Three days,' not 'free days.'"
"Oh." Makos said. A second alter, his eyes opened wide. "You were eavesdropping, too!"
"I wasn't eavesdropping." Danos responded. "There's a little hole in the wall up here. It's not eavesdropping if I can't help hearing it."
"You mean you heard it all?" Makos scrambled up to look over the edge of his brother's bed.
Danos was sitting up, but slumped forward. He looked depressed, like how Makos figured their father must look right then. Danos answered slowly. "It... It sounds like... well." He turned his head to look at Makos out of the corner of his eye. "Do you promise you won't cry?"
Makos nodded quickly.
"Well..." Danos' voice had that edge to it that made him sound like he was regretting bringing anything up.
"I promise." Makos said in his most reassuring way. His small hands gripped the bed frame tightly and he started at his brother's eyes intently. Danos didn't share secrets very often, and Makos wasn't about to let him back down now.
Danos gave in. "That was the banker. Father has to pay off his entire debt all at once now."
"What does that mean?" Makos prodded.
Danos sighed. "I think it means if he can't pay him soon, the bank will take away our home."
"They can't do that!" Makos spat.
Danos shook his head. "I heard father. He didn't argue against it. He only asked for more time."
"What did the banker say?" Makos asked.
"Three days." Danos' words sounded hollow, like people did when offering condolences to their family at their mother's funeral.
Makos furrowed his brow and stood up straighter on the edge of his own bed. "Then he just needs to pay him back."
"He can't." Danos said. "Not now."
Why not?"
Danos sighed. "Because he spends all of his money taking care of us. I think the bankers gave him years to pay it off at first, but now it sounds like they changed their mind all of a sudden." Danos shook himself out of his mood suddenly. His eyes widened and stared into Makos'. "Don't go feeling lousy because of it. Father would feel terrible if he thought you felt like you were a burden. He loves us and wants us to be happy, so don't get all mopey about it and spoil his sacrifice."
Makos rested his chin on his folded arms and replied. "I already said I wouldn't cry."
After a moment of silence, Makos asked, "What are we gonna do?"
Before his brother could answer, a very loud banging shook the front door. Both brothers jumped and stared at the wall separating them from the entryway.
The banging continued, louder this time. Makos was sure the hinges would snap if someone didn't answer it soon. He wondered if a hungry bear had found their house. 'The bear will be disappointed.' He thought, glumly. 'All we have left is oatmeal.'
Both boys turned their heads in unison toward the sound of the upstairs door squeaking open, then along the wall as footsteps thudded down the stairs and reached the door.
Makos and Danos stared at each other, wide-eyed. Makos clambered up onto the top bunk and both pushed their ears close to the tiny hole in the wall.
The door whined as it opened, and their father's voice greeted someone. "Hello? How can I help you?"
A mirthful, old voice, as creaky as the door hinges, answered. "I heard you were in a bit of a.. predicament, Mr. Whistle." The voice sounded like whoever owned it was trying very hard to sound consoling, but couldn't keep the chuckle out of his throat. "I do not come for help, but to help you."
"Help me?" Mr. Highwhistle asked.
"Help you!" The voice replied. "You do need help, don't you, Mr. Whistle?"
"Ah..." Mr. Highwhistle began. "It's actually Highwhistle."
"Of course you need help." The voice elaborated. "We all need help sometimes."
"I-"
"A lost dog found."
"Well-"
"A broken heart mended."
"Actually-"
Makos could hear his father trying to get a word in, but we was interrupted each time by the mysterious stranger. "But you!" The man shouted, startling the brothers, who bonked their heads together. "You. You don't need frivolous things. You need money."
Mr. Highwhistle let out his held breath, then asked, "Who, exactly, are you?"
Makos could almost hear the stranger's smile in his voice. "I! I am the clockmaker." Makos could imagine him standing tall, chest puffed out, thumbs hooked behind suspenders and head pivoted at just the right angle for admiration. His scraggly-bearded, crooked-spined concept for the man made the image hilarious.
"You... make clocks?" Denan asked.
"No no!" The clockmaker replied. "I make deals. The clocks make themselves."
Makos looked at Danos, who looked back with an 'I don't have a clue. He must be crazy.' kind of face.
The man continued. "I have a deal for you, Mr. Whistle."
"Highwhistle." Mr. Highwhistle corrected.
"Yes, right. I have a deal that will solve your problem." The clockmaker said smoothly.
"What kind of deal?"
The clockmaker answered through traces of a chuckle. "I will see to it your debt is resolved. In exchange, you do me a favor."
"What kind of favor?" Mr. Highwhistle asked more seriously.
"Nothing much." The clockmaker explained. "I have a collection I'd like you to look at. I love to show off my collection, and it would be worth paying off a measly loan to have your opinion."
A moment of silence later, Mr. Highwhistle remarked, "I don't know how you found out about my loan, but do you even realize how much it is? Did the banker send you? Is this some kind of joke?"
"No joke." The voice said darkly. "This is an opportunity you will only receive once. Take it now or say goodbye to your only chance of avoiding prison. And trust me, I can afford it."
Makos could hear his father pacing for a moment before responding. "Fine. I'll look at your collection, then." He didn't sound entusiastic.
"Great! But first, I must uphold my end of the deal." Makos heard a loud clunk hit the floor. "Three thousand silver pieces, exactly your debt."
The boys gasped in unison with their father. Makos wanted so badly to peek out the door and see this strange man and his bag of money, but he worried what Danos would say if he tried.
"I can't believe it..." Mr. Highwhistle's voice trailed off.
"Believe it." The clockmaker said. "I always keep my part in a deal. Now, for your end of the bargain." Makos heard the front door swing open. "This way, if you would."
Footsteps thudded on the front porch. The boys glanced at each other, then both of them climbed off the bed and peered out the window. The sun had gone down completely, leaving no trace of daylight, but the moon was out. It shone brightly enough for Makos to make out several shapes spread out across the front yard.
"What are those?" Makos asked.
"I don't know. It looks like they all have glass on one side, though." Danos answered. "I guess it would be best if we made certain." He hesitated a moment, then moved to the door and whispered. "Come on. It wouldn't hurt if we took a closer look, right?"
"Yeah." Makos agreed.
They left their room and Makos began to head for the front door. Danos stopped him, whispering, "The side door."
He led the way back around the stairs. He slowly opened the door and stopped it just before it creaked, then motioned Makos through. Once both were outside and the door was closed again, the boys slowly walked around to the front yard, making sure to crouch down.
Makos had to suppress several laughs as the long grass ran between his toes. Eventually Danos slowed to a stop and held out his arm in front of Makos, then pointed at the open field in front of their house.
Makos couldn't see his father, or anyone else, but there were several tall shapes looming in the darkness. He shivered, blaming it on the cold night air, then followed his brother who moved closer to one of the objects.
A faint ticking sound grew stronger as they reached the object. Danos moved around the side of it and stared up toward the top. Makos followed, wondering what the noise was about. When he reached his brother's side, he could clearly see the glass front of a grandfather clock in the moonlight.
It was similar to the one at the train station. It had a pendulum that swung back and forth to a tick-tocking rhythm. He saw the clock face had all twelve hours marked, like any clock. Golden fish designs in the clock face were unique, however. Several metal fish were spread about the face like it was a pool in which they swam. A fish near the number three was frozen mid-jump. A few drops of the white backing material looked like they had splashed onto numbers four and five.
Danos tugged Makos' sleeve. When Makos turned and looked where his brother pointed, his eyes opened wide. The entire yard was full of grandfather clocks, none farther than ten feet from another. Each was steadily ticking and tocking away in the moonlight.
From the faces he could see, Makos realized each was unique. Where one had a round face, another had a square face. Where one had number-engraved coins for hours, another had strange symbols that reminded him of the shopfronts of traveling merchants from the southern countries.
As he glanced about, Makos caught sight of two figures that were not clocks, nearer to the road that ran along the front of their property. They were standing in the midst of a few closely gathered clocks and a large wooden container. He pointed it out to Danos and both snuck closer, making sure to stay behind clocks on the way.
They came to hide behind one that had a kitten-shaped handle. The kitten had an outstretched paw with a bit of actual red yard dangling down from it. The yarn ended in a coiled ball. Makos stopped and tapped Danos when he heard voices from just beyond the next set of clocks.
"As you can see, I collect clocks." It was the voice of the stranger. Neither boy dared to look around the side of their cover for fear of being caught. "It is not an unusual hobby, but I have taken it a step further than others. You see, these clocks are all very special. Each one has memories and a story of its own, yet all of the stories share the same ending."
"Very interesting." Their father's voice sounded bored, but polite. "There is something I am more curious about, however. How did you manage to get these clocks all here so quickly. Our last visitor left not more than five minutes before your arrival, and he didn't seem to have noticed."
The stranger ignored the question. "Yes. The same ending. Each story is portrayed by the markings on their faces, and engraved in their woodworking. For example, this one. How interesting it is that the life of a farmer cultivates into a clock adorned with a glorious image of the moon marked with owls and loons.
"Most spectacular is its pendulum." He went on. "See how it is shaped like a mysterious woman? There is nothing to indicate crops or herds or anything farm-related of any sort. Obviously, the farmer wished for another life."
"It is a nice clock, very masterfully made, but I'm afraid I fail to see your point." Mr. Highwhistle admitted. "What are you getting at, sir? Why show me all of these clocks?"
There was a moment of silence, then the stranger responded. "Not all of these clocks. Only... one." The way the stranger spoke made Makos nervous.
"Very well. Which is it?"
Makos heard walking followed by what sounded like a cabinet door opening. "Look." The stranger ordered.
Makos heard feet shuffling in the grass followed by a gasp. His father's voice whispered. "It's beautiful..."
"I'm sure." The stranger said in an discomforting way, then continued with hints of eagerness. "Tell me, what about it do you find so intriguing?"
"So many kinds of horses." Mr. Highwhistle spoke slowly and thoughtfully as though the effort was a distraction, then there was a sudden burst of excitement in his voice. "Is that a hlambrin? I've heard so much about them. By word of mouth I can tell right off, though it does little justice! What a marvelous beast..."
"I thought so." The old voice said with a low chuckle. "All of your dreams and hopes and what you value dearly. Are they not all displayed?"
There was no response except for the sounds of muffled crying.
"Ah," the old man continued, "and now we come to the dearest."
Makos wanted to see what had made his father cry. He slowly edged his way to sneak just one eye beyond the edge of the clock. Danos pulled him back, shaking his head with a look that said 'You're going to get us in trouble!'
Before Makos could pantomime back an argument, he heard feet shuffling through grass and the sound of a cabinet door closing.
"By now," The clockmaker said, "You will have certainly noticed an odd feeling. Am I right? Can't quite move as well as you once could, hmm?"
"What are you-" Mr. Highwhistle began to ask, but what cut short as a loud noise like wood planks groaning under stress interrupted him.
"Filnewood!" The stranger breathed. "Very nice. You are off to a great start, Mr. Whistle."
"What is this magic? Stop this!"
The stranger chuckled in harmony with the sound of cracking glass. "You assume much. Why should it stop? Have I not kept my part of the bargain? Now, you are keeping yours."
"I didn't agree to this! Please, just-" More cracking cut him short.
Makos was about to dash out, turning back to make sure his brother wasn't watching, but realized Danos was just disappearing around the clock himself. Makos ran after him.
Both boys stopped in their tracks. Before them stood the stranger dressed in an ornate, purple and black cape with black pants, dark leather shoes, a fancy dress shirt that flared rather far at the collar, and a red hat that was crowned with a circle of feathers from various kinds of birds. He held a red coat beneath one arm, and the other hand was holding a large pocket watch, which was chained to his brown leather belt.
The man stood beside a grandfather clock, which was facing him. From that angle, Makos could easily see the front of it. It was made of a blonde wood with decorations carved up and down it. They looked like horses of many different kinds all posed as if galloping outward from the glass pane in the center of the door.
Makos couldn't see through the glass door very well, nor could he see through the moonlight glaring on the face of the clock, but he could make out a crack down the center of the face.
To his amazement, Makos heard his father's voice yell as if from inside a closed room. "Run!" A loud sound of breaking glass pealed out as the crack in the clock face uncracked, sealing itself up so as to make it impossible to know it had ever been there.
"What did you do?" Danos yelled. "How did you-" He seemed to not believe he was asking the question, and instead asked another. "Where is my father?"
The stranger turned his gaze to the older boy and smiled. He spoke up in a cheerful mood. "Ah yes! I was just showing these fine clocks to Mr. Whistle when all of a sudden we came across one he particularly liked. He must have decided that he would like to buy it. Perhaps he has gone off to the bank to collect some funds so that he might make the purchase."
"Wha-?" Danos said breathlessly. "At nine-o-clock?!"
The man nodded at the blonde wood clock. "Nine-o-nine, actually, it seems."
"You're a liar!" Makos screamed. "I heard it! You turned him into a clock!"
"I do not lie." The man spoke angrily, then continued in a softer tone. "I simply report what anyone will see, and I say your father is no longer here. As for turning someone into a clock." He sniffed. "What nonsense. I can't do that. What are you trying to say? That you believe in wizardry?" He clicked his tongue. "Unbecoming of a young man if he is to grow up to become a fine horse trainer like his father."
Danos stepped forward, staring up at the clockmaker intensely before stating, "I don't know what you did, but our father is gone, and you are behind it." Makos eyed his brother carefully. He had never seen Danos act so serious or talk so angrily before.
"I'd like to see you produce evidence of that." The man snickered.
"What's in the wardrobe?" Danos asked, nodding to the large container nearby.
"Ah." The man said. "Please, why don't you have a look?"
"No thanks." Danos said, stepping back slowly. "Whatever's inside it is what turned him into a clock, isn't it?"
"Oh, I insist you see it. Here, let me just open this door and you can find out for yourself." The old man grabbed the brass handle and began to pull it open.
Makos' heart began to thump wildly. For all he knew, something inside that tall cupboard was about to turn his brother into a dusty, old, grandfather clock, too. As the door began to squeak open, Makos acted on instinct, flinging his hand in front of the old man as he let out a cry of frustration.
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