The Phoenix Lord (The Dracosinum Tales)

by Angelique S. Anderson

  “Thank you, Jacob. I will take that into consideration. If you’ll excuse me, I must go and tend to Wylie. She’s not well.”

  “Yes, of course Milord. I’ll be off to ask around about the carriage some more. I’m going to take a look outside the invention barn too, just in case one of us missed something. I still have hope her family heirloom will turn up, I know how much it means to her.”

  “Thank you, Jacob. Please let me know if anything turns up?”

  “Of course.” The young man departed quickly, and for the first time since hiring him, it struck Adrian that the young man somehow seemed more intelligent than when he had first started to work in the stables. He had to wonder why the boy had not found work sooner, and why did he want to work as a stable hand? The boy could probably have his pick of apprenticeships. Perhaps when this was all over, he would hire a new stable hand and try to provide the boy with a better opportunity than just mucking out horse stalls.

  ###

  What Jacob did not yet realize, was that Cyrus was not as trusting as Wylie had been.

  That mistrust grew as Wylie got more sick, so that particular morning, when Cyrus heard Jacob’s door open, he followed him, ducking behind the corner of the stairwell when he saw Jacob’s head turning his direction. After a few moments, he peeked around the corner again, just in time to see Jacob disappear into thin air.

  “What sorcery is this?” he whispered to himself and hurried to the spot where Jacob had been standing. He knocked on the door to Jacob’s room, but there was no answer. Cautiously he turned the knob and peeked inside. The room was as silent as a tomb and just as untouched.

  It appeared the room had not been lived in. The bed remained unwrinkled and as firmly tucked as the day they first came. A pitcher of water that had been placed on the dresser had not been used. It was as if the room were simply waiting for its guest to arrive.

  Something is amiss here. I must tell Lord McCollum! Or maybe not? I don’t want to endanger him. Cyrus decided to put off saying anything until he had more proof. As he turned to leave, he gave one last glance around the room.

  The drawer in the stand beside the bed had been left slightly open. Knowing he was taking a risk of being caught, he strode over and pulled the drawer out. Seeing nothing at first, his curiosity got the better of him and reached his hand in the back of the drawer to feel around.

  At first nothing, then his fingers felt the edge of a piece of paper protruding over the back of the drawer. Pulling it forth, he held it up to look at it.

  Protector of the human race, more power than Siapheg. Executes justice when necessary. The Teselym enacts the balance of good.

  Cyrus stared long and hard at the drawing, trying to figure out what it meant. It was a drawing of a dragon? Is Jacob a dragon? The idea made his stomach turn. If Jacob is a dragon, this Teselym dragon, then who destroyed Adrian’s carriage?

  Knowing he could no longer wait, he hurried to Lord McCollum’s office to tell him what he’d seen and show him the paper. As he arrived at the door and raised his hand to knock, he heard voices on the other side.

  It was Jacob talking to Lord McCollum. He pressed an ear to the door so he could hear what was being said. At the mention of his name, Cyrus realized that Jacob meant to implicate him in the destruction of Lord McCollum’s steam-powered carriage.

  It seemed that his first misgivings about the boy were justified. There was something not right after all. It had been Cyrus, after all, who had first found the destroyed carriage, not Jacob. Whether this drawing of a Teselym had anything to do with it, Cyrus didn’t know, but he had to expose Jacob before it was too late.

  ###

  Wylie stirred in her bed, her eyes fluttering open to see Adrian sitting at the foot of her bed again. It seemed he never left, for as much as she slept, every time she opened her eyes, he was there. He was watching her quietly, his forehead etched with deep worry lines.

  “Adrian, my love. Do you never leave?”

  “Oh, indeed I do. I leave quite often as a matter of fact. Most assuredly, not because I want to, but unfortunately, I still have things I need to do. I spoke further with Professor Cornelius.” He sighed, the last few days of stress showing in the dark circles under his eyes.

  “And?”

  “I’m afraid there is more at stake than what he even let on. Professor Langdon from The Great Exhibition also has a hand in this. He has invested time and money in me, so it’s not just my reputation at stake anymore. It’s theirs as well.”

  “The Professor Langdon? World renowned Professor Langdon Granger?”

  “That’s the one.” Adrian said dejectedly.

  “Surely, you can’t blame yourself for such a thing happening? Surely they don’t blame you?”

  “No, of course they don’t. They did take a chance on me, however. I must do everything I can to not let them down. It just means I am going to have to work around the clock to have the repairs done before the Symposium in October.” Adrian walked over to the window and looked out; the streets were as busy as the day of the airship parades in London. “It’s going to take an absolute miracle.” He couldn’t bring himself to tell her that the Dracosinum hadn’t been found, obviously she already knew, but it would feel a hundred times worse to say it out loud.

  Nor could he find it in him to tell her the most recent news. The bit of information that Jacob had given him about Cyrus possibly being the one to have destroyed the invention. Adrian couldn’t wrap his head around that idea yet, and there were still parts that didn’t add up. The damage had been so extensive that Adrian just assumed that Lord Ukridge had done it. With this new information, he had to entertain the idea that Cyrus could have done it, but when? And what could he have used to cause such total devastation?

  He decided right then and there, he would still ask Cyrus to help him and Jacob fix it. He needed to keep his footman close, study him at every opportunity to try to determine his motivation. Perhaps Cyrus had met with Lord Ukridge, and they were working together? The thought sickened him, but it was an idea he had to consider, as he knew Cyrus could not have done all that damage by himself.

  “Adrian?” Wylie called out weakly. “Are you alright?”

  Adrian turned to face her. Noticing for the first time, her cheeks had taken on a pale, sallow color. She looked too thin, something was definitely wrong. “Have you eaten today, Wylie?”

  “I tried, but I don’t feel well,” she admitted.

  “I think that’s a bit of an understatement. Is there anything I could get you that you think you might be able to get down?”

  “So far nothing seems to sit well, maybe some bread?”

  “Alright, I’ll see to it that you get bread. Especially if it’s the only thing you think you can eat. I’m worried about you.” He stood up and stepped closer, brushing strands of hair out of her face. “Do you want me to run you a bath?”

  “Please. I think it would help me feel so much better.”

  “Very well, I’ll do that, and while you’re bathing I will talk to the cook about sending up some fresh bread. If not, I’ll take a carriage into town. I’m sure there must be a bakery somewhere.”

  “Thank you, Adrian. I’m so grateful for your concern.”

  He placed a finger over her lips to shush her. “Shh, just rest. Let me take care of things.”

  She nodded weakly and closed her eyes while he hurried to get her bath ready. When he was finished, he woke her.

  “Okay, love, I’ll be back soon.” He left the room shutting the door tightly behind him.

  Chapter Eight

  August 22nd

  Professor Cornelius sat at his desk writing out numbers and comparing them to what Lord McCollum had estimated it would cost to replace all the damaged parts of the steam powered carriage. It was going to be expensive, especially on top of the parts already furnished.

  Well, if he can perfect the design as he claims, the extra expense will be worth it, Cornelius told himself. Having Profess
or Langdon’s name behind my steam powered carriage company will ensure its success, and would fall in line with my plan to have the most lucrative transportation system in America, and hopefully in time, world-wide. Professor Cornelius was practically giddy with excitement. At that precise moment the dusty but well-used telegraph machine that occupied its own table in his office began clicking like crazy, causing the professor to jump in fright.

  “That dadblasted thing is going to give me a heart attack!” Professor Cornelius was fine with the inventions of tomorrow, but this particular invention he felt was still lacking. It was too loud and took up too much space for his taste.

  Professor Cornelius scooted out his chair and pulled out the tape that had the code printed on it.

  Fire destroys part of San Francisco, stop. Includes City Hall and Jenny Lind theatre, stop. No further details at this time, stop.

  Professor Cornelius stared at the tape, unable to motivate his rotund self to go out to the main room to share the news with the others.

  His mood changed drastically.

  “It’s too many, too many fires.” Cornelius shook his head sadly, recalling months before when a string of suspicious fires had sent his telegraph into a fit near the beginning of May. Those had also been in San Francisco, causing obscene amounts of damage. The cause of the fires had been blamed on the use of incendiaries and ill-timed winds. There was no telling what kind of damage the new fires would cause.

  Someone knocked loudly on his door, startling him from his thoughts.

  “Professor, she’s getting worse. Can you please call for the doctor again?” It was Lord McCollum, who, in spite of the damage to his prized invention, was somehow finding time to tend to his ailing wife and work on the ravaged vehicle. He will be a valuable asset, no doubt, thought the Professor.

  “Um, yes, yes of course. Let me just collect myself.” Mustn’t let Lord McCollum see me all flustered like this. The Professor straightened up, smoothed his shirt over his round belly, and tried to smile.

  “Why Professor, whatever is the matter?” Adrian’s gaze fell to Cornelius’s hands that still gripped the telegraph tape, his white knuckles gave away his state of mind. “What is it? What’s happened?”

  The Professor’s forced smile faded.

  “Well, it seems there’s another fire in San Francisco.”

  Lord McCollum’s eyebrows arched upward.

  “Another fire, sir?”

  “Yes, there’s been quite a string of them over the past year.” Adrian’s face drained of color.

  “Everything all right, Lord McCollum?” Adrian shook his head side to side vigorously, and the Professor realized, he needed to tend to the man’s wife or he would be of no use at all. “Don’t you worry about it, I’m sure they are going to figure out the cause of the fires.”

  Lord McCollum’s expression told the Professor that he didn’t believe it, but he decided to avoid the topic for now.

  “Lord McCollum, tend to your wife. I will send for the doctor and have him tend to Lady McCollum post haste. I need you in top spirits this evening as we tend to your invention.” Lord McCollum turned to go.

  “On the upside, I should tell you that I’ve reconciled the numbers, and even without consulting Professor Langdon, I’m sure it will not be a problem to assist you with the repairs. You will want for nothing. Let’s just get your pusher back up and running, shall we? I’ll help in whatever way necessary. Even if you just need an extra pair of hands.”

  “Well, that I do. I also need an extra pair of eyes.” Now that Jacob had turned Adrian’s suspicions on Cyrus, it was all he could think about. As of late, it seemed that his loyal footman was acting stranger by the day. Disappearing at all hours of the day, and night. Reappearing in odd places. Unexplained absences. The list of suspicious activities seemed to be growing.

  “Extra pair of eyes, Lord McCollum?”

  Adrian seemed to be holding something back, and the words that came out sounded more like an excuse. “I need someone to help me oversee the parts that make up all the little things on the Pusher. The fire box, the springs, even the wheels, they all need to be above par. I’ve had two years to perfect the initial design, I only have a couple of months left to do it all over again. I want to make sure that everything falls into place without a hitch. Jacob and Cyrus are great for the labor part, but I need someone who can see to the details. An educated man like yourself will be a great asset.”

  “Indeed, I would be most happy to oblige, Lord McCollum. It will be my pleasure. Simply stop by my office when you’re ready to begin work later today. I have some things to attend to just now. Is there anything in particular you need from your supply list today?”

  “No, sir. I’m still attempting to assemble the boiler, and I have all the parts I need for that, thank you very much for your generosity. I do have one favor to ask though. Do you happen to know of a trustworthy seamstress, one who would be willing to replace the velvet upholstery on the inside of the Pusher? I had a good one in London, who meticulously hand sewed every seam, every button. If I could find someone half her caliber, I would consider myself well off.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, son.” Professor Cornelius said.

  “Thank you.” Adrian exited the office and hurried up the stairs to tend to Wylie.

  Adrian didn’t like withholding information from the Professor, especially about the fact that he thought his most trusted servant, Cyrus, could be to blame for the destruction of his steam-powered carriage. He knew he couldn’t say it out loud. Not yet anyway. Not until he had proof.

  The fact that the fires in San Francisco coincided with the time frame that Lord Ukridge had been banished from London, was not lost on Adrian. He wondered if he should mention anything to Wylie. It hardly seemed important in light of her health as she was getting weaker by the day. In the nearly three weeks since they had arrived here, her Dracosinum still had not turned up. There was no one in the real world who could recreate it, and Wylie’s worry that something terrible had happened to Quincy put such stress upon her that she was sure that too was having an effect on her health.

  “I don’t know if I should tell her or not?” He thought out loud, ascending the steps to their room. “If anything, I’m going to be so busy trying to fix the Pusher before the Symposium, I doubt I’ll have time for anything else.” He sighed heavily before stopping at their door. “I should never have brought us here.” A sudden wave of sadness washed over him, and he felt nothing but regret. Adrian felt that he should have just sold his invention when he had the chance. Maybe if he had, Wylie wouldn’t be ill, and no one would have destroyed his masterpiece. “Wylie,” he whispered as he stood beside her bed. “Wylie,” he placed a hand on her shoulder and shook her gently. Her eyes fluttered awake.

  “Everything okay?” she whispered hoarsely, her throat dry as if she had coughed all night.

  “Wylie, I don’t know how much longer I can take this. You’re not getting any better, and no one seems to know what’s wrong with you. The doctor is coming again today, but you know that his tinctures haven’t been working. They seem just a feeble attempt at making you well. It’s urgent that I find Lord Ukridge. Even if he didn’t take it himself, I do think he knows where it is.”

  “No, Adrian! You know you can’t do that! Even if you could find him, he’d kill you!” She was trying hard to yell at him, to beg him not to leave, but her frail body and weak voice failed her.

  “Wylie, if I don’t try to find him and talk to him, you’re going to die. I’ve watched you withering away for three weeks now. I simply can’t waste another day. I have work to do on the Pusher tonight, but in the morning, I’m going into the city to find him, or find someone who knows of him. The doctor will be here shortly once the Professor gets done dealing with his bad news.”

  “News of what?” Her nearly skeletal frame sat up in the bed, her thin cheek bones barely concealed under a thin covering of pallid skin.

  Would she even make it unt
il the morning? He thought to himself. It had to be the absence of the Dracosinum that had made her that way, in spite of his attempt to keep her nourished. Dare I tell her about the fires? She’ll blame herself.

  “Oh, Wylie. I don’t even want to say.” He turned to walk away, starting to open the door. “I’ll be back later tonight, alright?”

  “Adrian, don’t keep anything from me,” she pleaded.

  “Wylie, it’s almost too terrible to talk about. I’m afraid of what it might mean.” She stared at him, eyes unblinking; it was clear she expected an answer. “Fine. There’s been a fire, well, several fires. Apparently, they’ve caused an insurmountable amount of damage to San Francisco. I don’t know anything yet about the body count. Actually, they’ve been going on for about a year.”

  Wylie gasped, tears brimming over the edge of her eyes.

  “Lord Ukridge.”

  “That occurred to me too. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that he was banished from London, and then the fires started occurring over here? I also don’t think it’s a coincidence that this latest fire has occurred just now.”

  Wylie nodded her head.

  “He’s going to destroy anything he can get his talons on. Why San Francisco though? Why not London? While we are away?” She could feel a lump begin in the back of her throat. It was her fault. It was all her fault.

  “I don’t know, Wylie. I also think he may be responsible for the destruction of the Petford Pusher.”

  “Well, I’d already assumed that, Adrian. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  Although, there may be other options. He thought, Cyrus’ face floating into his mind, while Adrian flashed her a fake smile.

  “Alright, please don’t blame yourself. We are going to get to the bottom of this, and if he is at fault, we’ll find out. You cannot take this burden on your shoulders. Just concentrate on getting better. Okay?” Wylie nodded at him, and Lord McCollum exited the room.