by H. L. Burke
Jericho darted forward. With one hand he grabbed Jaspyr, with the other he gave Styles a sound push.
Their host fell on his rump, eyes wide, mouth open.
Jaspyr wriggled in Jericho’s grasp, his metal body trembling and ears twitching madly.
“I think you’d better go,” Jericho said.
With a mild oath, Styles picked himself up and fled the room.
Jericho turned and found Rill standing in the doorway to the bedroom, her usually lively blue eyes cold as ice.
“I think I hate him,” she said. “I don’t remember ever hating anyone before, but him I hate.”
Jaspyr escaped Jericho’s hold and ran to his mistress’s side. He wagged his tail, then sat down, his gaze on her as if anticipating a reward.
“You did that somehow?” Jericho asked.
“Jaspyr understands more commands than you’d think. A simple ‘get the bastard’ isn’t beyond him.”
Jericho raised his eyebrows. He didn’t think he’d ever heard Rill swear before. He took her hand. “Hey, it’s all right. Believe me, I’ve been called worse than that by better men than Styles.” He forced a smile. “If city-boy Styles were exposed to what passes as ribbing in the circle I grew up in, he’d faint like the spoiled brat he is.”
Her chin dropped towards her chest. “I just don’t like anyone talking to you that way after all you’ve been through for my family. It’s like someone throwing mud at a gemstone, trying to make something beautiful and precious dirty and discarded.”
Embarrassed by the flattery, Jericho rubbed the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t call myself a gemstone. Nice sturdy brick, maybe. I’d take that.”
She laughed. “Well, you’re that, too.” She slipped her arms around his waist and nestled against his chest.
They held each other, gently rocking back and forth, for a long moment.
“I know we’re here for a good reason, but I still want to go home,” she murmured.
“You can if you need to. I’m sure your parents would be happy to have you there, and Auric and I can handle this.”
“Handle it, I’m sure. It’s how you’d do so that I’m worried about.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “When he said they might hang you, Jerry, I hadn’t even allowed myself to consider that. I know you’d mentioned prison, but it didn’t seem real. If Styles thinks the accusation is serious enough that it could lead to execution, I can’t leave you and Auric alone.”
“Styles was just posturing. He’s not a member of the court and he has no idea what proof they have of anything.” He ran his finger down her cheek. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, however, Styles was right about one thing: Auric was a magician by heritage, an Academy graduate, one of their own by Capital standards. Jericho was an outsider, a low-born interloper with no business practicing magic who had married above his station and wasn’t even worth including on the summons for the preliminary hearing. If the court did somehow manage to convict them, they’d be more likely to deal harshly with Jericho than Auric.
The door opened, and the couple looked up as Auric stomped in, glowering and carrying some sort of boxy contraption.
“How’d it go?” Jericho asked.
“It didn’t.” Auric dropped his burden on the table in front of the chaise longue then plopped into a chair. “It was a farce, just an excuse to waste my time. I got there, waited well past my appointment’s time, then got shuffled into an office to fill out three different forms in triplicate—all to be told I needed to make another appointment next week for a hearing on whether I even get a hearing. They basically tossed me on a bureaucratic merry-go-round to nowhere.”
Jericho and Rill exchanged a glance.
“I’ll have some tea sent up,” she whispered.
As Rill pulled the cord to summon a servant, Jericho sat across from Auric and leaned towards him. “We could see this as a good sign. If they were able to prove what we did, they’d be eager to get us in court and make us pay. That they’re putting it off and stalling you with paperwork says they aren’t ready yet. Maybe we can work this to our advantage somehow.”
Auric scratched his beard, his eyes distant. “Maybe … we should send a letter to Father, make sure he’s all right, tell him that we’re making progress, even if it’s a lie. I want to give him hope.”
“Yeah, we can do that.” Jericho considered telling Auric about Styles, but he didn’t have any proof of the man being anything but an ass. For now, Jericho would just keep an eye on him. He pointed to the weird device on the table. “You want to tell me what this is?”
Auric exhaled. “There was a woman there, trying to get an appointment. It’s hers. We sort of bumped into each other, and she dropped it.”
“All right. Doesn’t explain why you brought it here, though.” Jericho picked it up. He could see where the wheel had snapped off the base. His years in his uncle’s carpentry shop, though, made it an obvious repair. “Hey, Rill, when you ask for the tea, could you also have them send up some wood glue? Or maybe a hammer and a handful of ten-penny nails?”
“I suppose.” She tilted her head. “What is that thing?”
“Not sure, but it’s broken, and I can fix it.” He fiddled with the pieces. It reminded him a bit of the waterwheel that powered the millstone back home. The wheel turned a shaft attached to another wheel-like contraption inside the box. “Huh, wonder what it does. Did she give it to you?”
“No, she wasn’t having any more luck than I was getting her appointment. Got flustered when someone accused her of having a bomb—that thing.” Auric indicated the device.
Jericho shook his head. “Any idiot can see it’s not a bomb. I actually think it’s supposed to be some sort of engine. Well, not quite an engine, but this wheel should be powered by water, and that would turn this … did she say what it was for?”
“No, she panicked when the room turned on her and I—” Auric cleared his throat. “I broke her device. She ran out. I couldn’t catch her.”
“Huh, too bad.” Jericho flipped the box over. “So why did you bring it here?”
“I don’t know. It seemed important to her, and she … I don’t know.” Auric’s mouth clamped shut.
A smile quirked the corner of Jericho’s mouth. “She was pretty, wasn’t she?”
“Beautiful,” Auric whispered.
Jericho chuckled, examining the underside of the box. Someone had engraved letters into the bottom panel. “L. Tyckner, 45 W. Hampton St, Capital City.”
“What?” Auric nearly jumped out of his seat.
“Her name and address I’m assuming.” Jericho held it out to him. “If it was important enough to mark, she probably wants it back.”
There was a knock on the door. Rill opened it and quietly ordered tea and the items Jericho would need for a repair.
Auric stared at the box. “After you fix it, we can arrange to have it sent to her.”
“Or you could take it yourself,” Jericho suggested.
Auric swallowed. “I don’t know. I sort of bungled my first impression. She didn’t seem like she wanted me to track her down.”
“This girl obviously made an impression on you. Enough that you kept this device. Do you want to see her again?” Jericho raised his eyebrows.
“Yes, but this isn’t the time for such distractions and even if it were, it’s not as if … well, I don’t know.” Auric sank back in his chair with a sigh.
Jericho tapped his fingers on the wood casing. “You should. We’re just waiting around for your next government appointment at this point. Besides, I’ve never seen you like this.”
“You haven’t known me for all that long.” Auric waved dismissively.
“I have, though, and I agree.” Rill joined the two men. “She must be something extra special to have you acting like this.”
“Take it from a man who was lucky enough to get a second chance. There is nothing worse than facing death consumed by regret because you never told a girl how you felt about he
r,” Jericho said. Rill flushed then sat on her husband’s lap. He kissed her forehead.
Auric shook his head. “I barely spoke to her. I can’t compare myself and mystery girl to you and Rill.”
“Even Rill and I were strangers once. For all you know, this mystery girl is your Rill.” Jericho took Rill’s hand. “All I’m saying is take the chance. What do you have to lose?”
“Nothing I suppose.” Auric smiled. “You’re right. I’ll do it.”
Jericho’s hold tightened about Rill. She gazed down at him, her eyebrows slightly raised in an unspoken question. He shook his head. It wasn’t a good time to bring up Styles. No, Jericho would deal with that problem in his own time, in his own way. For now, he just needed to look after his family.
Chapter Twelve
Clutching the strange device to his chest, Auric descended from Cordon’s coach and thanked the driver.
“Should I wait for you, sir?” the man asked.
Auric hesitated then shook his head. “No. I don’t know how long I might be, and it’s not too far a walk to the commercial district. I can hail a cab from there if needed.”
The driver nodded and snapped the reins. Auric watched as the coach disappeared down the narrow cobblestone streets. Was this a good idea? With the hearing only a week away, there had to be a better way to use his time.
A memory of the strange woman’s dark curls and flashing brown eyes spurred him forward.
The homes here were smaller than in Cordon’s section of the city, but well-kept. He read the house numbers before spotting #45. Like all the other houses, it was a narrow two-story building. Unlike the others, however, the shutters were closed even though it was a lovely day.
Auric approached the door and knocked. To his surprise, it swung forward at his touch. Not all the way, but a substantial crack.
“Hello?” he called out. “I have something for a Ms. Tyckner.”
No one answered.
Shifting from foot to foot, he considered his options. He decided to give it another go. “If you’re in there, we met earlier, at the congressional offices. I’ve got your … thing.” Jericho had said it was a model based on something about the sort of wood used and how it wouldn’t actually hold up to water-wear—something, something. He’d gone into a lot of technical details about construction which sent Auric into a haze of boredom. Jericho wasn’t usually a talker, but when he found a subject he thought he could teach Auric about, he took on an oddly professor-like tone and slipped into a lecture. Rill said he was the same way with her during their magic lessons, but she swore it was endearing.
He glanced up and down the empty streets. No one around to ask if he had the right house. Well, the door was ajar. He could leave the model right inside, perhaps with a note about where to find him. Pushing the door open the rest of the way, he stepped inside.
Something tightened about his ankles, and his feet went out from under him with a whoosh. The model left his hands, crashing against the door frame. Yanked topsy-turvy, he hung upside down, arms flailing, blood rushing to his head, spinning like a fish on a line. His tablet slipped from his breast pocket and clattered to the ground.
“Gotcha!” an accented male voice roared. A bulky man with dark skin glared down at Auric. “He dropped something.”
Auric cried out in protest as the man picked up his tablet and held it before him like a rotten piece of meat.
“It’s one of those … magician books. The one who attacked you was a magician, wasn’t she, little one?”
“That’s not her, though. That’s a man.”
Auric’s already pounding heart skipped a beat as the mystery girl stepped out of the shadows.
“He’s familiar though.” She frowned, tilting her head as if trying to match his upside down gaze.
“Could you please let me down?” he asked. “I just wanted to bring back your device. I fixed it.”
Her gaze shot to the model. “Oh, you broke it … again! You’re that idiot from the office. I remember you now.”
He gasped for breath. This wasn’t going well. “Please, let me down. I think my head’s going to pop.”
“What do you think, Uncle Ezra?” She faced the big man, who shrugged.
“I won’t let him hurt you, little Lotta. I’ve got his magic stick!” He held up Auric’s stylus, much to Auric’s chagrin. Auric hadn’t brought along a spare. However, at least he now knew mystery girl’s name.
Lotta walked to the wall beside the door. Auric managed to twist his body so he could watch as she flipped a switch on an elaborate rope and pulley system. Something whirred and hissed, and the ropes about his ankles loosened. He cried out as he dropped towards the ground, only to have Ezra catch him about the legs and lower him gently to the floor.
Desperate to regain any semblance of dignity, he staggered to his feet and straightened his waistcoat. “Somehow we got off on the wrong foot … or I did. Literally.” He gave her his most charming smile.
She blinked at him before stooping over her smashed device. Jericho’s repair job was completely wasted as a large section of the waterwheel had splintered on impact with the door frame. She clicked her tongue. “That’s the second time you’ve broken it.”
“I’d argue this time wasn’t really my fault.” Auric allowed his smile to fade. He’d made a horrible mistake in coming here. “I’m sorry. I should go. You’re obviously busy setting booby traps and—” He glanced around the room and the words died in his throat. “What is this place?”
The room looked as if a kitchen and a workshop had crashed together. Gears and cogwheels decked the walls in shades of bronze, chrome, and tin. A rickety wooden table sat in the middle of the space, so covered in tools and metal pieces Auric was surprised its thin legs could hold it all. There was also a stove with a tea kettle and cabinets filled with a mix of food and more spare parts.
“It’s my home.” Ezra drew himself up proudly.
“Are you both … inventors?” Auric touched one of the wheeled contraptions on the wall, but Lotta rushed up and grabbed his wrist.
“Don’t break that.”
Auric rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to.”
“All this is Lotta’s,” Ezra said. “She can make anything, just like her father could.”
Lotta’s shoulders hunched towards her ears, her mouth crinkling in unmistakable grief.
“Did he pass recently?” Auric asked.
She nodded, her eyes pinched shut.
“I’m sorry. My father had a stroke recently. He stayed with us, thank God, but it scared the life out of me. I don’t know how I’d have handled it if he’d—I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t have anything to do with it.” She sniffed and glanced out the door before pushing it shut. “Why are you here?”
“I told you, to return your device.” He motioned towards the broken bits still lying next to the door.
She shrugged, her curls bouncing over her stately shoulders. “It was only a model, anyway. I’m halfway through making a new one.” She pointed towards the table.
“Mind if I look?” Auric asked. Yes, she was being difficult, but blast, she was pretty. He could put up with a little abuse if it meant looking at her longer.
“I suppose. You probably won’t understand it, though.” She turned away from him and started fiddling with the ropes and pulleys next to the door, perhaps resetting the trap.
On the table rested a paper covered in technical-looking drawings with labels in tiny, neat handwriting. At the top, large letters read, “Hydroelectric generator.”
Jericho had been right. From this schematic, the wheel was meant to be submerged in quick-flowing water. The diagram showed it connected to a factory automation via wires. He read over the notes twice, then scratched his beard. “So this is supposed to power factories? Can it recharge the Styles Devices we currently use?”
Lotta sniffed. “It can replace the Styles Devices. Those things take magic and turn it to energy. This takes running
water and does the same thing. However, we don’t need to rip big, ugly holes in the sky for it to work.”
Auric stared at the papers. If she were right, this machine could solve the energy crisis. “Where do you plan to install them?”
“The Tunnel River. It flows throughout the city. It’s where we get our water, but the storm drains also empty into it, so there’s a network of passages we can run wires through, feeding into all the factories, even homes … well, we could, if someone would listen to me.” She huffed out a breath. “I left my screwdriver upstairs. Don’t break anything while I’m gone.”
Auric grimaced. Yes, she definitely thought him an idiot.
As her footsteps faded up the stairs, Ezra sidled over to Auric, grinning.
“She’s talking!” he announced, as if this were a big revelation.
“Yeah.” Auric raised an eyebrow. “Is that unusual?”
“For Lotta? Yes!” The big man clapped Auric on the shoulder, nearly bowling him over. “I try for days to get her to speak, but she won’t, and you? You she talks to. You must have a Fey touch.”
Auric’s ears burned. Yes, it was just a superstitious saying, but considering his mother’s hidden heritage, it hit closer to the mark than he liked. “I guess she thinks I need things explained to me more.” Another itch of displeasure struck him as he sighted his tablet and stylus still clutched in Ezra’s other hand. “Can I have those back? I promise I’m not here to hurt you. Besides, it’s not like I can use them with the Fey energy drought.”
A frown creased Ezra’s forehead. “The other magician used magic to try and hurt my Lotta only a few hours ago. Drought or no drought, you folk are dangerous.”
“Uncle!” Lotta cried from upstairs. “Come quickly!”
Ezra’s eyes widened, and he bolted for the stairs. Auric hesitated before bounding after him. Above, a narrow hall contained two doors, one open, one closed. Lotta stood on the other side of the opened one. She pointed to the window.
Ezra glanced out. “Is that her?”
Lotta nodded, her mouth pressed into a firm line. Auric glanced around Ezra. A woman in black stood in the street below. A glinting mechanical monkey perched on her shoulder. Auric swallowed. While non-magicians occasionally had animated metal pets—for instance, Father made Jaspyr for Rill years before she had been allowed to learn magic for herself—it was rare. Such creatures took a good deal of time, skill, and effort to craft, meaning they were usually only found in the company of those wealthy enough to commission several weeks’ worth of work from a master magician, or in the possession of magicians who made them for themselves.
