Aether Spark

by Nicholas Petrarch

  “Down on Caber Street, in the Basin.”

  Ringgold nodded. “I’ll look you up when I have a free moment.” He embraced Chance again and turned down the street. Another duelist joined up with him as they hurried to catch up to the rest.

  “Who was that?” Rhett asked, approaching after the duelists were out of sight.

  “I don’t really know,” Chance admitted.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The Rally

  Life is made in many moments, but often remembered by one only.

  — Alchemical Proverb

  W hen Chance and Rhett arrived at the plaza where they’d agreed to meet the other alchemists, Chance still felt shaken from his encounter with Ringgold. He walked distractedly, and Rhett had had to correct him a few times when he almost walked down a wrong street. But they’d made it, and Chance tried his best to push his feelings to the back of his mind.

  He spotted Ashworth beside a makeshift stage amidst the market. It had been erected earlier by a troupe of local performers who’d been gracious enough to share the space with Ashworth, so long as he waited until the conclusion of the troupe’s performance of The Well, O’ Well before he made his announcement.

  “Sorry we’re late,” Chance apologized.

  “Quite alright,” Ashworth said. “We had more than enough hands this morning. The troupe was particularly accommodating. I think they are under the impression we’re partly responsible for the size of their audience.”

  “Jokes on them.” Chance chuckled.

  “How was the rest of the festival?”

  “It was neat!” Rhett piped up, tugging proudly at his cravat. “Margarete got me this.”

  “It looks quite smart,” Ashworth smiled.

  “There are so many people here,” Chance observed, glancing at the crowd.

  Ashworth nodded. “More than I expected. I knew this troupe had a reputation, but I didn’t think they’d draw a crowd like this.”

  “That’s to our fortune then,” Chance smiled.

  He noticed Ashworth was wringing his hat in his hands and shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

  “Relax, Ashworth. You look like you’re standing over a lit burner the way you’re fidgeting.”

  “Ah, so I am.” Ashworth chuckled as he tried to still himself. He leaned in close to Chance. “I’m just a little on edge knowing at any moment one of these constables could seize me for my meddling.”

  “You’re going to be alright,” Chance assured him. “Nobody knows anything about that yet, and when they do Harper’s testimony will have already explained everything. Your little break-in will be overlooked. For all we know, the city might give you a medal.”

  “Really?” Rhett asked.

  “No,” Ashworth said sternly. “I don’t want a medal. And I didn’t break in.”

  “But you weren’t supposed to be there,” Chance grinned.

  Ashworth let out a huff. The play was nearing the end of its third act, when Septigonee’s ghost would persuade another maiden not to make the same mistake she did. It was a serious moment, though Chance thought the costuming—with its exaggeration of the gentleman’s style—made it a little ridiculous.

  He took the opportunity to look for the other alchemists.

  He spotted a few gathered together on the other side of the stage. Keller and Sager stood together, with Estrada perched a few paces away. He must have been standing on a box or Chance doubted he would have seen him.

  Gravatts seemed to be enjoying the performance from within the audience itself. And he saw Liesel and Welch near the fountain.

  “I don’t see Foxx or Yoon,” Chance mentioned.

  “They’ll be here,” Ashworth assured him.

  Chance frowned. They had better hurry if they’re going to make it before the announcement, he thought.

  “Is everything alright?” Harper’s voice came from behind a curtain draped behind the stage. He’d been hiding there most of the morning. They didn’t want people to recognize him too early.

  “Just fine,” Ashworth assured him. “How are you holding up?”

  Harper peeked out from his hiding place. “I’m fine,” he said. “Not long now?”

  “Not long at all.” Ashworth clasped his friend’s good hand. “Chance, you and Rhett best find a good spot to watch before the play finishes. This will be history in the making!” His chest swelled as he said it.

  “That it will be,” Harper said, and he and Ashworth stepped behind the stage to prepare themselves.

  “Come on, Rhett,” Chance said. “Let’s try over by the fountain.”

  He led Rhett through the crowd until they reached the plaza’s fountain, where they could get a good view of the whole market. It was difficult to push their way through the mass of people.

  Again, Chance found himself surprised by the sheer number gathered. He estimated a couple hundred filled the plaza. It was difficult to tell with the festival costuming, but it appeared there were men and women from all levels of society.

  It was just the turnout they’d hoped for.

  The play ended, with a dramatic wedding ceremony and the merging of two lovers’ fortunes. The audience applauded as the performers bowed once, twice, and a third time. Chance felt himself getting eager.

  Hurry up and get off the stage already.

  Finally, they took their fourth and final bow and retreated behind the curtain, and Ashworth stepped up on stage. The audience continued their applause, assuming him to be a part of the troupe.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Ashworth began, clearing his throat to give time for the crowd to quiet down. “Citizens of this great city. We welcome you to this assembly of the common people—to this open forum on this blessed day, when all walks of life revel in their common bond.”

  The members of the audience cast each other glances, not quite understanding what Ashworth was getting at. Those nearer the front began to listen more intently, curiosity drawing them in.

  “Chance, I can’t see,” Rhett complained.

  “Here, climb up on my shoulders,” Chance offered. He knelt down and Rhett clambered onto his shoulders. The boy was heavier than he expected. Chance clenched his teeth and tried to keep him stable.

  “It is not by coincidence that we meet today,” Ashworth continued, “but by a greater design. I’ve long anticipated this day, the day when I could share with you one of the most profound successes this city has seen since its birth—a breakthrough unmatched in all of history.

  “As is the heritage of all great discoveries, we have been challenged in our experimentation, undergoing much trial and error. Yet, through perseverance we have unlocked a mystery that will revolutionize the very fabric from which our great city is fashioned. It will have a profound impact on the citizens of Hatteras, as it has had a profound impact on the man we gather to hear from today—for it is this discovery which allows him to be with us.”

  There was a general murmur through the crowd. Chance feared Ashworth was losing himself in the moment.

  Enough with the theatrics, Ashworth. Come out with it already!

  “You’ve read the papers. By now you know all about the recent miracle surrounding our Good Captain Harper. Stories have been shared and gossip exchanged, but the figure around whom this miraculous event has taken place has remained unavailable to comment on his own miracle...until now.”

  Pride gleamed in Ashworth’s eyes as he spoke, and Chance couldn’t help but smile. For as long as he’d known him, Ashworth had worked diligently in the background, slaving to help those around him with little to no recognition. He was glowing in his words.

  Go ahead, Chance conceded. You deserve your moment in the spotlight.

  “It is with great exhilaration that I now introduce the man to whom this miracle belongs, to give his own account of what transpired, and set straight the details which were so grossly misrepresented these past few weeks. I turn the time over to my dear friend, Captain Willard Harper.”

  The
crowd was at attention as Harper emerged from behind the curtains and exchanged places with Ashworth at the podium.

  The crowd’s reaction was strange and uncertain. Some applauded and cheered, but it would die quite suddenly in parts of the crowd, replaced by whispered conversations as people pointed to his mechanical arm. He’d left it exposed so that everyone could get a clear look at it. The sun reflected off its metallic surfaces as he came forward.

  Chance thought he heard some hecklers somewhere among the crowd too, which he thought a bit odd.

  “My fellow citizens of Hatteras,” Harper began. “Comrades of our beautiful city. I stand before you today as a man...”

  Chance was only half listening. Someone was definitely shouting. He tried to see exactly where the commotion was coming from.

  “Hey,” Rhett said as he was turned away from the stage. “What are you doing?”

  Chance didn’t answer. The crowd was making it difficult to see clearly, but he thought he saw people jostling one another left of the stage. Glancing up, he saw Ashworth was similarly distracted by the commotion.

  “Rhett, can you see what that is?”

  “What what is?”

  “The people over—”

  Something was happening. He saw the crowd shifting, a man in a heavy trench coat pushing his way toward the stage. Ashworth noticed him too.

  “Rhett, I need you to climb down,” Chance said urgently. He tried to hurry Rhett off his shoulders.

  “What? Why? He just started talking,” Rhett protested. Other people were noticing the commotion as well. Harper paused in his introduction.

  “Rhett, get down!”

  The moment slowed in Chance’s mind, and all sound seemed to fall away. It was as though he stood in the middle of a bubble, spectating as the world around him turned in slow motion. Chance saw the man reach the front of the stage. Saw him reach into his coat and draw out a device. He raised it high over his head.

  Harper’s expression turned to horror.

  Then the stage erupted in flames.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Powder Keg

  I still recall that first moment, when I glimpsed the beauty of my accomplishment. Had I then acknowledged the dread which strove to warn me of what could become my undoing.

  — Excerpt from Mechanarcissism

  T he explosion knocked Chance to the ground as the stage under Harper tore apart from the inside out, casting debris high into the air. Women screamed and men cried out as splinters of wood rained down upon them. Chance curled up and covered his head with his hands to avoid being pelted by the debris.

  Someone kicked him in the face as a man stumbled over him in panic. Everyone was scrambling, and another foot compressed his stomach.

  Lifting himself to his feet, Chance scanned the area. Most of the people were fleeing away from the stage, and a few around him were holding bleeding wounds. Others were being pushed to the ground and trampled in the chaos.

  A few lying nearer the stage weren’t moving at all.

  Rhett! The thought struck Chance like the man’s foot. Where’s Rhett?

  He searched frantically through the moving figures, shoving his weight back against those who pressed up against him as they fled. He couldn’t see where Rhett had fallen.

  From somewhere distant he heard whistles blowing. The constables were arriving.

  “Rhett,” Chance called out. “Rhett!”

  He caught a glimpse of the boy, crumpled face-down on the ground. People were tramping over him without a thought.

  “Curse it, all, get off him!” Chance shouted as he shoved a man away from the boy, toppling him. He knelt over Rhett. The boy was unconscious, his face peppered with tiny cuts and his hand twisted under him at an odd angle. Part of his cravat was soaked with blood against his neck.

  Shouting for strength, Chance lifted Rhett into his arms and moved with the flow of the crowd. He couldn’t fight them while carrying Rhett, so he let the mass direct him.

  What is happening? he wondered, his mind racing. And where is Ashworth?

  He glanced back toward the stage. He saw bodies strewn across it among flames and broken wood.

  Please don’t let one of them be his.

  From the sides, he saw red capes sweeping in. The duelists. They formed a perimeter near the stage with the constables on the scene. He thought he spotted Ringgold among them. Chance never thought he’d say it, but for the first time in his life he was glad to see them.

  Someone collided into him again, and he nearly dropped Rhett as he stumbled to recover. He had to find somewhere safe, away from the crowd. It was thinning near the center of the plaza, and Chance pushed until he was by the lip of the fountain.

  Setting Rhett down at the water’s edge, he checked the boy. Rhett was cut up, and he had a nasty bump above his ear. A piece of the stage must have struck him, Chance concluded.

  He lifted the cravat and winced. There was a deep cut just under Rhett’s chin. Chance readjusted the cravat and pressed it against the wound to stop the bleeding.

  “Chance!” he heard someone call. It was Liesel. She limped toward him, clutching her side. Welch was on her arm.

  “Liesel, what happened to you?”

  “Had a run in with one of the guard,” Welch said, not taking his eyes away from Liesel’s wound.

  “What?” Chance looked at her dumbstruck. “What happened?

  “Tried to arrest me for suspicion or some nonsense, but I gave him more than he bargained for.” She smiled and gave Chance a wink, but he saw a red patch of blood where her hand rested.

  What is happening?

  “Welch, I need a favor,” Chance said. “I need you to get Rhett out of here.”

  “Sure,” Welch said, only reluctantly redirecting his focus. “What’s the matter with him?”

  “Knocked down by the blast. He’s got a cut under his chin. He was trampled when everyone started running.”

  “I’ve got him.” Welch lifted Rhett from the fountain’s edge.

  “We’ll take him back to my place,” Liesel said. “He’ll be fine there.” She grimaced and turned to go.

  “You sure you’re alright?” Chance asked.

  “We’ll be fine,” she assured him. “What about you?”

  “I’ve got to make sure Ashworth’s alright.”

  “Be careful,” Welch said, giving the stage a wary glance.

  “And don’t let the guard stop you,” Liesel warned. “I don’t think they’re here to help.”

  She and Welch began a slow walk toward one of the side streets. Chance watched them go until they’d cleared the plaza before setting off in a sprint for the stage. They’d be alright. Welch was a resourceful man—as much as Chance resisted admitting it—and Liesel was a tough girl. She hadn’t earned her reputation for nothing.

  With the crowd clearing, Chance got a good look at the damage the explosion had caused. Parts of the stage still burned, and the fire had spread to one of the nearby buildings. Men were busy setting up a fire line to bucket water from the fountain to douse the flame before it consumed the whole structure.

  Chance ducked into the group of men fighting the blaze as he worked to get closer to the stage. Two duelists stood guard over a line of men lying prone nearby. Most weren’t injured, but had their hands bound behind their backs. Chance spotted Sager and Gravatts among them.

  Guards still apprehended others.

  Come on Ashworth, where are you?

  A bucket was thrust into his arms and Chance half-heartedly passed it to the next man. His focus was on the stage. There had been more injured than he’d expected. Perhaps thirty or more, by his estimate. And then, huddled underneath the lip of the stage, he spotted Ashworth.

  Dropping a full bucket, Chance dashed to join Ashworth, sliding on his knees to duck into the hiding spot.

  “Ashworth! Are you okay? You can’t stay here. They’ll find you,” he warned. “Where is Harper?”

  “He’s dead,” Ash
worth shrugged. He said it so matter-of-factly that Chance felt chills run down his spine. It was then that he noticed the fragments of a brass hand cradled in Ashworth’s lap.

  “We have to get you out of here,” Chance urged. He noticed Ashworth’s sleeve had been completely burned away. The exposed skin was red and blistered.

  “They killed him. Oh, gods! They killed him!” Ashworth was suddenly taken in a fit of sobs, his hand covering his mouth. “How could they kill him?”

  Chance suspected Ashworth was in shock.

  “There’s nothing we can do about it now. Come on. We have to get away from here.”

  He grabbed Ashworth’s shoulder and tried to raise him to his feet.

  “They’re going to kill us too.” Ashworth’s voice was calm again—resolved. It sent a second chill down Chance’s spine with how quickly his tone had changed. Ashworth spoke as though it wasn’t just a probability, but as if it were already happening.

  “Not if I have anything to say about it,” Chance said, to reassure himself more than anyone else. He removed Ashworth’s coat and tossed it under the lip of the stage, then lifted the alchemy case from around Ashworth’s waist and slung it over his shoulder.

  “They killed him,” Ashworth continued to mutter. “They’ll come for me next. And then you.”

  “Ashworth, listen to me,” Chance said, grasping the front of Ashworth’s shirt and forcing him to face him. Ashworth’s eyes were wide and unfocused. “He’s gone,” Chance said, shaking Ashworth when he tried to protest. “He’s gone! You can’t do anything about that. Not yet. But, I promise we will. Ashworth, we will do something about it.”

  Ashworth nodded slowly.

  “Listen,” Chance said, selecting a vial from his carrier and dumping its contents into his hands. He patted it liberally on Ashworth’s injured arm. “I need you to run now. See that side street over there? You run to it and don’t look back until you’re home. Got it?”

  Ashworth mumbled, and Chance gave him a firm shake.

  “You got it?” Chance urged. “I need to know you understand me.”