Ashworth couldn’t contain the amusement in his eyes. He pulled a letter from his pocket and handed it to Chance. It was sealed with wax and bound in a ribbon.
“What is this?”
“Open it,” Ashworth urged.
Chance broke the seal and began reading. It took only a few lines before his brow furrowed. It wasn’t a letter at all. It was a summons—to a secret meeting of alchemists the following night. He glanced up at Ashworth.
“Rhett may need to finish the flying machine on his own,” Ashworth beamed.
Chapter Fifteen
A Secret Meeting
Fate pulls an invisible thread between those who are destined to meet. Best try not to tangle them.
— Alchemical Proverb
F or the next twenty-four hours, Chance was alive with curiosity. Ashworth wouldn’t say anything about where he’d been or about the upcoming meeting—except that it regarded Captain Harper and involved the local alchemists.
Chance didn’t know what to think; he wasn’t used to Ashworth being so secretive. Generally, he bore everything out in the open. Chance appreciated that about him. In Hatteras, everyone had something up their sleeve, and it was refreshing to know there was at least one man who went against the grain of expectation.
That was, until this past week.
The whole affair frustrated Chance, like a splinter at the tip of his finger. But, he resigned himself to bite his tongue and be patient until the meeting. While he waited, he finished his orders and even took to rearranging his workshop to pass the time faster. It gave him something else to fuss over.
Rhett was in a particularly grumpy mood since he’d been told he couldn’t come to the meeting with them. He’d spent the day off somewhere by himself with his flying machine. It still wouldn’t fly, but he wouldn’t ask Chance for help anymore.
When Ashworth finally came and fetched him late that evening, Chance’s workshop was cleaner than it had been in months. The two of them donned their coats in the dark and left the workshop with few words.
Rhett was already asleep, so there was no need to inform him they were going. According to Ashworth, he was too young to be in the thick of things just yet.
They headed southwest through Cheapside into Browbank, then crossed the canal that separated Browbank and Garret Town. It wasn’t a town so much as a small sub-district. Hatteras might have been a single city, but sections of it had formed internal communities on their own initiative. Many born in Hatteras identified themselves exclusively by these sub-districts. They almost forgot the rest of the city even existed.
Garret Town was one of the more coordinated sub-districts, a little ways inland from the Basin. They’d installed electric lanterns themselves, and maintained them on weekly rotations. The light afforded evening travelers safer passage during the night.
After a half-hour or so, Ashworth paused on a street corner, raising a hand to signal Chance to wait. They were in an industrial district, its street lined by larger workshops and small businesses. Ashworth kept glancing up and down the streets as though looking for something or someone.
“Are we there?” Chance asked.
“Nearly,” Ashworth said. He pointed to one of the shops a little ways down the street. “Wait here a few minutes while I go inside, then follow me in. Can you do that?”
“Sure I can. But why?”
“For the sake of appearances,” Ashworth said. “Can’t have a group converging all at once. Might draw unwanted attention. Okay, here I go.”
With a nod, he was off across the street. Chance watched him go at a brisk walk, summoning a casual air, before entering a small gate which led back into some alley alongside one of the shops.
Leaning up against the brick wall, Chance patiently waited as he had been instructed. Some loose newspaper drifted slowly across the sidewalk at his feet, and he kicked it away. He didn’t want to see another article about Captain Harper.
Since the first announcement, the papers and gossip mill had only grown louder. And yet, despite all of the noise, Harper still hadn’t made an appearance. At the bottom of every news story was the same line: unavailable for comment.
After a few more minutes, Chance spat on the ground and hustled across the street to the gate where Ashworth had vanished. It was a fairly large business on a corner lot. Glancing up at the doorpost, he caught sight of alchemical symbols on their sign.
At least he knew they were alchemists. He squinted to read it.
FOXX AND KELLER
VOLATILE COMMODITIES
The names were familiar, which eased Chance’s anxiety. Ashworth had a good relationship with Keller.
Ignoring the door, he walked around through the alley. It opened up to an alcove where a heavy set of double iron doors leaned against the building. A man Chance didn’t recognize, with a thick beard and belly, stood vigil by the doors. His arms were folded rigidly across his barreled chest.
When he saw Chance approach, he lifted one of the heavy doors and ushered him inside.
Chance crept down a steep set of stairs, ducking to avoid bumping his head against the cramped ceiling. A coal chute ran down along the stairwell’s side, forcing him to bend awkwardly as he stepped. The air was thick with the smell of coal and slag.
At the bottom, the stairway opened into a furnace room. It wasn’t large, but it was cleared enough so that a small group of men could gather, sitting comfortably on what stools and surfaces they could find.
Ashworth was chatting with a few of the other men, and excused himself when he saw Chance.
“Why don’t you take a seat?” he said. “It may be a minute until everyone arrives.”
“Who’s all coming?”
“Oh, everyone,” Ashworth smiled.
“Is that all?” Chance asked. He was still not amused by all the secrecy.
He found himself a stool and dragged it to the back by the unlit furnace. From there he could get a good read on everyone present. He recognized the owners of the shop, Foxx and Keller. They were standing at the front of the room speaking with Ashworth, their expressions serious.
The two looked as if they could have been brothers, but there was no family relation. Keller had been raised in Hatteras his whole life while Foxx came from a country across the sea. Chance couldn’t recall which.
From what he’d gleaned from conversation, they partnered up when Foxx shipped himself across the sea and took up residence in Hatteras. Foxx wasn’t an alchemist by trade, but his overseas connections helped Keller expand his operation and gain a foothold in foreign trade.
As their sign stated, they specialized in combustibles.
Gravatts was there. The unpleasant miser was reclined in the most cushioned seat in the room, next to Yoon and Sager. They were considered two of the more successful alchemists locally, so naturally Gravatts would gravitate to them. Chance rolled his eyes; he’d never liked the man’s sense of self-importance.
Keefer was there also, an indistinct, middle-aged man who worked with curatives. He dozed toward the back, among a few other men Chance didn’t recognize. Chance was appraising them when Liesel appeared on the steps, with Welch close behind. She spotted Chance right away and came over.
“Mind if we join you?” she asked.
Chance moved over to make room. He avoided Welch’s eyes and pretended not to hear his greeting, but Welch didn’t seem to take offense. Instead, he found a chair and brought it over for Liesel.
“Wait,” Chance said, realization striking him. “Why are you two here? I thought this was for alchemists only?”
“It was Welch who received the invitation,” Liesel explained. “I’m just here for moral support. I hope that’s alright with everyone.”
She winked at him, and Chance couldn’t understand why.
He was about to ask, but the heavy doors of the chute slammed shut and the burly man came down to join the gathering.
“Any idea what this is about?” Liesel asked.
“Not su
re. I think it has something to do with Captain Harper though?”
“Oh.”
“Excuse me!” Ashworth waved his hands to gather the attention of the room. “If everyone could find a seat please, we’ll get started without further delay.”
The guests finished their conversations with rushed whispers before the last of them shuffled to find a place to sit. A few took to leaning against the walls, chairs being limited.
“Thank you all for coming tonight,” Ashworth began, once they’d settled. “I understand meeting like this is a bit untoward, but your response and patience is most appreciated. It’s not often we see so many of us gathered under one roof.
“You represent the top minds of our craft, so I feel it’s only appropriate that you be made aware of what has transpired in the past few days, since I am certain the effects will be felt widely by all here.”
“If this is some gloating session, I really don’t have a stomach for it tonight,” said a little man sitting atop one of the taller stools in the front. Chance recognized the little windbag as Estrada. He must have overlooked him as he’d come in, which was easy to do considering the little man’s stature.
“I assure you, what we have to say will be of benefit to everyone here.”
“Doubtful,” Estrada mumbled.
“By now,” Ashworth continued, ignoring Estrada, “I’m sure you’re all familiar with the events surrounding Captain Harper’s death, as it has been reported in the papers?”
“Do you think we’re deaf?” Estrada said. “Of course we are. Any ninny with half a wit is familiar with it.”
“What is your problem?” Liesel snapped. “Keep your trap shut if you can’t be decent. I make it a point not to be in the same room as you, and if I’m going to have to make an exception tonight I won’t sit and listen to you carry on like you tend to do.”
Estrada’s face turned a mix of red and purple, but he held his tongue.
“You were saying, Ashworth?”
“Thank you,” Ashworth continued. “The papers have been quite exuberant in proclaiming the ‘miracle’ which has transpired, but I’m curious if any of you have heard much as to exactly how it occurred?”
“I don’t know,” said one of the men Chance didn’t recognize.
“People on the streets have been speculating ever since we first heard,” Keefer said.
“The new mechanism,” Yoon called out.
“That’s the general consensus,” Sager said, agreeing with Yoon. “They’d finished the operation after he died, and the heart took in the end.”
“Yes... the heart took,” Ashworth mused. “Tell me, have any of you ever before heard of a mechanism reviving someone after death? Even hours after?”
“I admit it surprised me,” Liesel said. “But then I don’t know much about clockwork mechanics.”
“It’s possible,” Welch said, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. “Most anything is possible.”
“Ah, Welch. I hadn’t seen you in the back,” Ashworth said. “You’ve spent some time studying clockwork mechanisms. What are your thoughts?”
“Doctor Stoddard has built quite the reputation among mechanists over the years,” Welch explained. “It doesn’t seem thinkable, but, if it was, he’d probably be the one to do it.”
“We aren’t even sure Harper was dead,” Keefer pointed out.
“I assure you, he was,” Ashworth said.
“How would you know?” Estrada questioned. It was obvious he was straining to hold back his temper. He glanced in Liesel’s direction to see if she would interrupt him, but she remained silent. “What makes you so sure?”
“Because I visited the captain that night in the morgue.”
Chance’s head snapped upward. His suspicions had been correct. A few of the men exchanged quick whispers.
“Why?” Sager asked.
“More importantly, why are we caring?” Estrada added. “Does anyone else wonder what this has to do with any of us?”
“Make your point, Ashworth,” Keller said, stepping up beside him. He gave Estrada a stern look.
“Alright,” Ashworth said, regaining himself. “I called you here not to discuss the success of a clockwork mechanism. As I said, the captain was dead that night for what I estimate to be six or seven hours before I got there. As you recalled from the papers, he died just before the surgery was completed and so his surgeon finished the procedure and pronounced him dead.”
“There is documented evidence proving this fact,” Gravatts interjected. Chance was a little surprised he was offering support in Ashworth’s defense.
“Doctor Stoddard was sufficiently thorough in his reports so that there is no doubting it. This brings me to the purpose of our meeting tonight. When I arrived at the morgue that evening, I administered to the captain a serum of which the existence of only a select few in this room are aware—and of which you all will soon be made so.
“Gentleman, and lady,” he added, looking toward Liesel. “It was alchemy which reanimated the captain, not any clockwork device.”
“You’re out of your mind, old man,” Estrada chided.
“Just listen to what the man has to say,” Keller implored.
“No, you all listen to me,” Estrada said, standing up from his stool. It was an ineffective move, because he was nearly as short standing as he was sitting.
“What Ashworth is telling us is insanity. Forget the captain’s recovery; Ashworth has admitted to tampering with the body of one of Hatteras’s most important figures in the past century. Never mind if what you did is the reason he’s alive or not. Do you think that will matter when they arrest you for your tampering?”
“He saved a man’s life,” Liesel said.
“You don’t know that!” Estrada sputtered. “And so what if he saved him? Even if that’s true, they’ll never give credit to an alchemist. That would be as bad as admitting a tinkerer invented the gear.”
He shot Welch a nasty glance.
“I don’t know how you got it into your head that you’re going to pull me into this with you, Ashworth, or why—but you can forget it! And if any of you have a head on your shoulders you’ll turn your back on this whole mess with me before he goes on another minute!”
He looked expectantly from face to face, but the company remained silent. None seemed to heed the man’s rant. Their expressions were pensive as they gave Ashworth’s announcement thought.
The red in Estrada’s face deepened, and his gaze became viperous, but after a moment he crawled back onto his stool and fell back into silence.
“He’s right though,” Keefer pointed out. “They’ve already claimed credit for what was done. It is a missed opportunity. We haven’t gained anything.”
“I got a friend back,” Ashworth said defensively.
“If I remember correctly, he wasn’t much of a friend to alchemists,” Sager said. “He’s half the reason we’re where we are today. I think of him every time I pay one of those ridiculous tariffs!”
There was a general muttering of agreement among the others.
“No, he wasn’t fond of us then,” Ashworth said. “But a man can change, given the right catalyst. It’s my belief he will be the key in turning over a new leaf for us. He will be our voice where we’ve had none. A voice on the Spire itself!”
Estrada laughed loudly.
“Is that so?” he said. “I always thought you a bit over-trusting, but now I’m thinking you’ve gone senile. I haven’t seen a lick of evidence to suggest that he’s even noticed your little act of heroism. Who says he will? Eh?”
“I do,” said a gruff voice from the back of the room.
Chance jumped, and the whole group spun around. He’d thought he’d been the only one there, but emerging from between the furnaces was a man—or half a man. He wore a coat in military style: slate grey and double-breasted, the top few golden buttons left undone, leaving the top of his shirt and chest uncovered.
Whether this was for comfor
t or simply a necessity for fit was unclear. Regardless, the jacket couldn’t conceal the prosthetic of his right arm. A metallic casing encompassed his shoulder with delicate supports and grips reaching across his chest.
As the man stepped closer, Chance felt the warmth rush out of him. He saw how the metal sank into the man’s flesh—fastening, no doubt, to the bone itself. As he stepped forward, the noise of whirling gears and the faint hiss of valves depressurizing silenced all other sounds within the room.
With a brass fashioned hand, the figure adjusted the hang of his coat.
“Gentlemen, and lady,” Ashworth added as he extended a hand toward the new guest. “I’d like you to meet the man of whom we were just speaking: Captain Willard Harper.”
Chapter Sixteen
Tea and Gossip
Where there’s smoke, there’s likely to be a fire. Hopefully one you meant to start.
— Alchemical Proverb
I ‘m so sorry that Willard wasn’t able to be here with us,” Lady Harper said, resting a tray of tea and cookies on the coffee table. She and Stoddard were in one of the sitting rooms of the Harper estate—a two-story manor which afforded a modest distance from its neighbors and a lush garden enclosure. It was quite the luxury within the crowded city, but such were the privileges of living on the Spire.
The sitting room was decorated with a variety of bright floral patterns on most everything. The wallpaper was an interlocking weave of pink hibiscus buds, while the rug and furniture were decorated with hydrangea and roses, respectively.
Stoddard thought the combination god-awful.
Lady Harper passed him a cup, and he took it politely before setting it down on the table. He didn’t intend to stay long if Harper had already stepped out.
“Don’t let it trouble you,” he said. “I only meant to check up with him about his recovery. No doubt he had some urgent matter to attend to?”
“Well, I wish he’d have taken your visit more seriously,” Lady Harper said, “considering what he’s been through.”
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