“Seven,” Chance said.
“I was apprenticed for four years to a mechanist,” Stoddard continued. “A clockmaker. It was decent work, but I had aspirations far beyond the vision of my mentor. And then, as if fate had conspired in my favor, the good captain returned from war broken. My master was called upon to fix him. I stood by dutifully, watching his frantic attempts at a task so far beyond him. I was there when he stumbled upon the ‘miracle’ which saved the captain.
“After witnessing that, how could I have focused on anything else? It became an obsession. While my master was satisfied writing it off as a miracle and enjoying the fruits of his dumb luck, I sought to understand it. To dissect it. To replicate it. I inherited his work, and have seen it through to where it is today.
“But I’ve reached an impasse,” Stoddard explained. “A problem which it seems you and your mentor were able to solve with that spark of yours.”
“So that’s what you want?” Chance asked. “You want to steal my research?”
“Not at all,” Stoddard said. “I want to add my knowledge and experience to it. I want you to help me solve this riddle. You and I, we each have a great work to do—an enterprise to see through to the end. Together, we can advance all of mankind in ways unimaginable!”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” Chance said, “but I gave up on the Aether spark a long time ago.”
“We both know that’s not true,” Stoddard said. “I know you’re conducting experiments. I know you have friends helping you obtain what you need. And I know you’re deciphering a notebook that has the answers we’re both seeking.”
Chance cursed himself and his loose tongue.
“My sources tell me you’re not ready to give up just yet,” Stoddard smiled. “I also know that you’re tired, and worn out from all of this needless cloak and dagger. If you collaborate with me, I assure you your troubles will disperse. You’ll be free to pursue your studies without molestation, and have every resource you could ever dream of at your disposal.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because you and I depend on one another for the thing we can’t do for ourselves. If either of us are going to improve our circumstance, the Aether spark is the key. Together we can turn it, and open the way into a new age.”
“I don’t have it,” Chance said.
Stoddard expression grew cold. “Don’t lie to me. I know you have it!”
“I don’t!” Chance insisted. “You’ve killed the man who knew how to create it. He was the only one who knew. If you want it so badly, you’ll have to bring him back yourself and ask him how he did it.”
“I didn’t kill Ashworth,” Stoddard said.
“Of course, you did!” Chance shouted. It hurt him to hear Stoddard deny it. “Who else would be responsible for his death?”
“Don’t for a second think I’m the only one who has taken an interest in you,” Stoddard warned. “There are other men as eager to seize the secrets you are holding.”
Chance hesitated. Was that true? He’d always thought it was one man after him. Who else might be searching for him at that very moment?
“It doesn’t matter,” Chance shrugged. “The Aether spark died with him. There’s no turning back the clock.”
“But you were his apprentice,” Stoddard urged. “You’re familiar with his work!”
“I had no idea what he was working on,” Chance confessed, and his voice faltered despite his efforts to appear strong. That truth still upset him. “Contrary to what you might believe about us, we alchemists have a code. We respect each other’s secrets. Ashworth’s died with him.”
“That’s not true,” Stoddard grinned, though he didn’t appear as confident as he had a moment before. “You have been unable to let your mentor’s work rest with him. I’m certain of it. With my help, you could finally unearth the secret of the Aether.”
Chance clenched his jaw so tightly he thought his teeth might crack. Stoddard was right. Despite how much trouble it caused him, he hadn’t been able to let it go. He’d forgotten all about his own work in light of Ashworth’s success. It had become an obsession to recreate it—just as Stoddard had his mentor’s work.
“I thought so,” Stoddard nodded in triumph. “I understand your predicament, Chance, but I extend my proposition. A partnership, you and I, in a joint effort to fulfill Ashworth’s final work.”
“I don’t work for murderers,” Chance said, turning away.
“You still think I was responsible for what happened to Ashworth? What happened to Harper?”
“I don’t see anyone else here who would profit from it!” Chance shouted.
“And that’s where you’re wrong,” Stoddard said. “Everyone would profit from what you have. They’ve gone to great lengths to discover your identity. If they’d found you, you very well might have been taken to the Steep already. Take it from one who knows, the Spire is not as pleasant a place as one might think. You’re fortunate that I was the first to find you.”
Chance stood silent. He thought of the rally. Of the raids on Ashworth’s home. On Ponti’s. It seemed unlikely, now that he considered it, that one man could be responsible for it all.
“I’ll tell you what,” Stoddard said. “As a token of my goodwill, I’m going to leave you to think on it. If my proposition disgusts you, you can disappear again. Perhaps you’ll find yourself a better hole to crawl into. But, if you change your mind, my offer remains available to you.”
He extended a card to Chance, who took it reluctantly. On it was printed an address on the Spire.
“I’ll leave you to consider your options,” Stoddard said, donning his hat. “I have no doubt you’ll see reason in time.” He didn’t wait to hear Chance’s response, but turned and crossed the street the way he’d come, self-assurance in his step.
Chance stood still, both confused and frustrated. He felt vulnerable. Felt thousands of eyes on him from every angle. Backed into a corner with no way out. He turned the card over in his hand, not sure what to think.
His stomach seized up again and he doubled over, retching blood on the ground.
Chapter Forty-Five
Cornered
When I think of all the times I could have abandoned this path, I can’t deflect the sense of guilt that I not only chose this fate... I chose it many times over.
— Excerpt from Mechanarcissism
C hance leaned heavily on the table in his makeshift laboratory, clutching it tightly to keep himself stable. He shivered in a cold sweat as pain drove through his stomach in steady waves, twisting him as his muscles spasmed under his skin.
It had been a rough night, to say the least. He hadn’t been able to sleep, so he’d tried to distract himself with work. But, he’d hardly been able to go for more than a couple minutes before nausea and dizziness would set in and he’d have to rest.
It was a constant battle. One he was losing.
After a few minutes, the pain subsided to a bearable ache, and he was able to straighten up again. All about the desk lay remnants of the curative tonics he’d mixed, to little avail, as well as a few other concoctions he thought might come in handy given last night’s encounter.
Some sat half-mixed. He’d sent Rhett to fetch the components he lacked, which left him little to do but wait and worry. Inevitably, the thought of Stoddard’s offer assaulted his already weary mind.
He felt trapped, more so than ever before. He thought of running, of going to ground once more and starting over. He could take Liesel up on her offer to shelter him, if she wasn’t so tied up with the Resistance.
The thought of seeking out the Resistance directly crossed his mind. He’d hesitated getting involved with them before, after Simon’s warnings, but perhaps he’d be safer with them.
Regardless, even if he found somewhere to hide, Chance had already been found out twice. Obviously, he hadn’t gone as unnoticed in the Basin as he’d thought. Eyes were turning his way, and if what Stoddard said was true then ther
e were others Chance wasn’t even aware of after the Aether spark.
He wasn’t sure if he could evade their pursuit much longer.
Chance uncovered a bottle he’d hidden underneath his mattress and uncorked it. The sweet aroma of his special brew greeted him, and he downed the last of the bottle’s contents. His stomach tightened as the liquid hit, but subsided in welcome warmth.
It sickened him, even as he drank, how much he’d come to depend on it to subsist. He cursed himself, and promised again that this was the last time—then cursed himself for the number of times he’d promised that before.
Ringgold may have been right, he thought. Alchemy may be the death of me.
Sitting down on his bed, Chance took up Keller’s notebook and flipped through it. The symbols swam in front of him as his vision wandered. He scratched out one of his notes and paused. What was he going to write in its place? He couldn’t remember.
He closed the book. The wait wasn’t doing anything to help his nerves. He needed something to occupy his mind. He needed to work, but with the limitations he faced with money, equipment, or components he had lost momentum. He hated that he didn’t have a proper lab. He hated that he couldn’t buy basic components. He hated everything about his circumstance.
He took Stoddard’s card from the table. He’d not been able to bring himself to discard it. The offer, as much as he loathed the thought, was inviting. If what Stoddard said was true—if he could deliver on his promises—then Chance could escape the hell he’d been sentenced to.
He was rolling the offer around in his mind when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Chance straightened up as Margarete peeked into the loft.
“Are you busy?” she asked.
“Nah,” Chance said, tossing the card back on the table. “Just thinking.” He cleared a spot on the bed beside him, but Margarete didn’t sit down. She wandered the room, examining Chance’s mess.
“Working on something?” she asked.
“Just waiting for Rhett to come back with a few things from the Exchange.”
“Oh,” Margarete said. She looked nervous, which was a state Chance didn’t see her in often. It put him further on edge. Something was wrong, and he wasn’t sure he could handle any more bad news.
“Did you need something?” he asked, trying to cut through the tension.
“No. Not really,” she said. “Do you?”
“I’m okay.”
“Yeah?”
Chance looked at her long and hard. What was on her mind? Whatever it was, she was having difficulty letting it go. Her eyes wandered over his laboratory, examining its contents and running her fingers over a few of the vials and flasks. She came to his bottle, and he cursed his neglect for having left it out in the open.
She didn’t linger too long, however, before moving on.
“Whatever it is, Margarete, you might as well come out with it,” he said. “I can tell something is wrong.”
“Can you?” he heard her whisper.
She turned to look at him, and Chance’s breath caught in his chest. She was beautiful—even with her eyes so sad.
“I heard you last night,” she said, “coming in. It didn’t sound like you slept.”
“I had something I needed to take care of.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” he insisted.
“Really?”
Chance shrugged his shoulders, and Margarete gave a resigned nod.
“I’m worried about you,” she said.
“Don’t be.”
“I mean it, Chance. I’m worried about how you’re handling everything that’s happened.”
“I’m handling it just fine,” Chance assured her, folding his arms into himself.
“No, you’re not! Stop trying to put on a brave face. I know you don’t like letting others see when you’re hurting, but you can’t hide it forever. Not from me. You’ve taken on so much with Ashworth’s work, and I’m here to tell you… it needs to stop.”
Chance looked at her with surprise.
“I’ve watched what it’s doing to you,” she explained, “what it’s led you to do, and I can’t sit idly by any longer.” She cast a glance at the empty bottles around the room. “It needs to stop.”
“I can’t just stop now,” Chance said. “I’ve only barely begun to make progress on it.”
“But at what cost?” Margarete asked. “From where we stand, it doesn’t look like progress.”
“We?” Chance asked, his eyes narrowing. “Who else is spying on me? Rhett? Liesel?”
“We’re all worried for you.”
“You shouldn’t be snooping on me,” Chance said. “What I do with my time is my own business.”
“No,” Margarete said firmly. “Not while you’re under my roof. You’re one of mine, Chance, and what you bring here affects all of us.”
“I’m not going to stop,” Chance snapped. “It’s my life! It’s my choice!”
“If you won’t,” Margarete warned. “Then you leave me no choice.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that you’ll have to find somewhere else to stay. I can’t have you destroying yourself under this roof, not when I have my girls’ livelihoods to consider. I love you, Chance. But I won’t let you put them at risk.”
“You’re serious?” Chance asked. She’d surprised him so much he didn’t know whether he was angry or confused.
“I wish I wasn’t.”
“I’m just trying to finish Ashworth’s work,” Chance insisted.
“That’s not all you’ve been doing. If you were so keen on helping him you wouldn’t be so adamant about doing it on your own. Ashworth had help. He accepted help. All you’ve done is pull away.”
“Trust me, no one else wants this,” Chance assured her. “And I don’t blame them. I’m sorry if you’re not happy about it, but I’m not giving up on the spark. Not now. Not ever.”
“Then let us help you,” Margarete pleaded. “We do want to help, if you’d let us.”
“Really?” Chance picked up Keller’s notebook and thrust it toward her. “Can you read this? Because I’ve been at it for months and I’m still barely able to make heads or tails of it. None of the other alchemists are about to sign on to help me, after what happened to Ashworth and Keller. They’ve learned their lesson already.”
His voice caught, thick in his throat, and he threw the notebook into the corner. His anger had come upon him so suddenly. He hadn’t meant to direct it at Margarete, but it was so close to the surface it was difficult to contain.
“It’s the hard truth,” he said. “I’m the only one who can finish Ashworth’s work.”
“Perhaps…” Margarete touched his arm, but Chance didn’t feel the comfort of her touch. “Perhaps it’s better to let his work end with him.”
Chance rose from the bed. “How could you say that? Ashworth cared for you, too. I won’t abandon him.”
“It’s not abandoning him,” Margarete insisted.
“That’s exactly what it is. Ashworth was murdered,” Chance said. “Murdered before my very eyes. And Rhett saw it too.”
“Rhett sees what’s happening to you, too. He looks to you. He’s already lost Ashworth,” Margarete said. “What do you think it would do to him if he lost you?”
“If I let it go then they’ll have taken everything from us.”
“But, if you keep holding on, you may end up losing everything anyway. Don’t you see? It’s destroying you. It’s destroyed everything it’s touched. Just... let it go.”
Chance clenched his jaw and wrung his hands. If only she knew how tempted he was to do that. The thought begged him every day. And he’d do it if he could.
But...
He glanced again at the card on the desk. It wasn’t as simple as she made it seem. He was deep in it. Deeper than he’d ever thought he’d be. They weren’t going to let him back out now.
“I see what this is doing to you, Chance,” Margarete sai
d. “You’re not the young man I once knew—the one who dyed my hair and would dream with me late into the night. He was fine a young man, who lifted others even when it put him out to do it. But now...”
Margarete’s eyes were pained, as if it hurt her to say it out loud.
“People change,” Chance fumed.
“Not like this.”
“Exactly like this,” Chance said. “You can’t stop it.”
“No,” Margarete agreed, the last of her hope fading in her voice. “I suppose I can’t.”
Footsteps were heard as Rhett came scrambling up the stairs and rushed into the room, looking quite put out. Margarete turned away quickly and dabbed at her eyes.
Rhett looked confused. He’d never seen Margarete cry before.
“What’s wrong?” Chance asked, realizing Rhett wasn’t carrying any bags. “Where are the components?”
“They wouldn’t let me in!” Rhett said, exasperated. “I went down to the Exchange and the gate was barred up. There’s a huge crowd gathered outside, but they’re not letting anyone in.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t know. They kept saying it had something to do with the colonies. ‘Redistribution of rations,’” Rhett quoted in a voice Chance suspected was an imitation of the quartermaster’s.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” Rhett shrugged. “But they had dirigibles in the courtyard. It looked like they were emptying the warehouses.”
“Did they say when they’ll be open again?”
“They wouldn’t say anything. Just kept telling us to go home.”
Chance stood up from the bed and grabbed his coat and carrier from the hook by the door. The carrier was bulkier, given his recent additions, but he managed to secure it under his coat without too much budge. “Let’s go,” he said.
“Where are we going?” Rhett asked.
“We’re going to find out what is going on!”
Aether Spark Page 36
