Rebel Mechanics

by Shanna Swendson

  While I met everyone, I couldn’t help but glance around looking for Alec. Surely he wouldn’t miss the party, or was he away inventing some new machine?

  Colin came off the dance floor, red-faced and sweating. “What, you’re not letting her dance, Liz?” he asked. “Come on, Verity, let’s have some fun.” The drink had gone to my head, making me feel fuzzy and fizzy, so I went eagerly with him, letting him spin me around to the beat of that strange music. I could barely keep up with him. Tickles on my cheeks and forehead told me my hair was coming loose, and I felt sweat running down the middle of my back, under my corset. Even so, I was having more fun than I could recall in years—or possibly ever.

  Colin suddenly jerked and yelped. His style wasn’t conventional, but I didn’t mistake this for a dance step. He reached up and pulled something out of the air, then quickly released it after yelping again. It was a small model of an airship, with steam and smoke pouring from beneath it. Muttering under his breath, Colin batted it ahead of him as he stalked toward the edge of the room. I hurried to keep up with him.

  “And what, pray tell, is this supposed to be, Everett?” he asked an ebony-skinned man in a red tailcoat. “An airship that hits people in the head is no airship at all.”

  “I can’t help it if you’re a bloody giant, Col,” Everett said. Then he sighed deeply. “It’s the steam engine. Even in miniature, it’s too heavy to get enough lift. I’ve already got a ship, but I don’t have a power supply. Magic may be the only reasonable way to power an airship.”

  “What about electricity?” Colin asked. “Tom’s created a storage battery, and it’s not too heavy.”

  “Would it hold enough power to get us anywhere?”

  “Talk to Tom. Maybe there’s something he can do. But in the meantime, watch where you fly these things. That’s gonna bruise, and I can’t afford to mar my good looks.” With that, he twirled me back onto the dance floor.

  The next dance was just as energetic, and before it was over, I was gasping for breath. Colin guided me over to a refreshment table and handed me a cup of punch. This drink was cold, with chips of ice in it, and I downed the whole cup in a couple of swallows while Colin spoke to some of the men. Only when it was gone did I gasp as the harsh bite of the alcohol hit me. This was more than I was accustomed to, but as long as I didn’t return home inebriated, there was no one to tell me I wasn’t allowed to consume alcohol.

  I was just about to suggest we return to the dance floor when I heard someone call my name and turned to see Alec approaching. He had his coat off and his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. A pair of goggles with an array of fold-down magnifying lenses was shoved back on his forehead. There was a smear of soot across one cheekbone. Even disheveled as he was, I found him more appealing than in all the daydreams I’d had after our earlier meeting. Although I’d planned to act casual when seeing him, the punch had gone to my head, and I rushed toward him, smiling broadly. “I was wondering where you were,” I said, louder than I intended.

  “I’ve been working on the lights,” he said, gesturing to the glowing globes above. “They’re powered by a steam dynamo. It’s been fussy tonight. She must feel like she’s missing the party while she’s stuck down in the basement.”

  I tilted my head back to look at the lights and would have toppled over if Alec hadn’t caught me. I knew I should have stepped away as soon as he steadied me, but I didn’t really want to, so I stayed securely in the crook of his arm. “They’re much better than gaslight.”

  “We think so. Someday they could replace gaslight for those who can’t get magical lights. That is, if the magisters will allow a power other than magic.” He looked at me with a smile that made me glad he was holding me upright. “But you came here for a party, not a political lecture. Would you care to dance?”

  “I’d love to,” I said. I’d caught my breath from my earlier exertions, but I was still greatly relieved when the band played a stately waltz. I’d waltzed with men before, but this was different. He held me closer than had been proper at New Haven tea dances, but the real difference was my memories of him whisking me out of the way of certain death and how my heart had raced then while I was in his arms. It raced again now.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?”

  I glanced up to see him looking down at me. Did my thoughts of him show on my face? I stiffened in his arms, suddenly self-conscious. “Yes, I’m having a very good time.”

  “I’m glad you came,” he said with a smile. “I would have been disappointed if you hadn’t.”

  His attention flustered me. I had all sorts of clever things planned to say, but my tongue had become so thick and heavy that I couldn’t move it. Just when I opened my mouth to say something witty and flirtatious, the music abruptly stopped and the room went silent. Every head in the room turned, and I followed their gaze. A woman dressed all in black, with a veil hanging in front of her face nearly to her waist, stood at the front of the room. The crowd parted for her as she moved toward the demonstrations.

  Gradually, the noise level rose from dead silence to a low murmur as conversation resumed. “Who is she?” I whispered to Alec. “Wasn’t she on the bus?”

  “She’s our patroness. She’s come to select the project she’ll fund. My steam engine won last year, which was why she was on board for the race.” He took my hand. “Come on, I want to see how she reacts.”

  Lizzie intercepted us. “I was wondering if you could help me,” she said to me after a glance at Alec.

  “How?” I asked.

  “I’m covering this event for the newspaper, and I need another set of eyes to make sure I don’t miss anything. You mentioned that journalism sounded exciting. Are you interested?”

  “I don’t know anything about being a reporter.”

  “Just write about what you see. You’ve read a newspaper, so you know how it goes. I could submit it for you. We’d have to come up with a pen name for you, of course. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize your current position.”

  I imagined myself as an intrepid reporter and liked the image. I knew I didn’t intend to be a governess the rest of my life. “I can try,” I said.

  “Here, you’ll need this,” she said, pinning the Mechanics’ gear-and-ribbon insignia onto my bodice. “Don’t worry, this doesn’t make you a member, but it will make people more willing to talk to you.” Then she handed me a notebook and pencil.

  Alec and I followed the woman in black as she moved from exhibit to exhibit, watching silently as the inventors showed off their creations and explained the benefits while I frantically scribbled notes. “She’s polished brass, that one is,” Everett said with an admiring smile after the woman moved on from his airship demonstration.

  Once she’d circled the room, she conferred with a tall man in a top hat, who stepped over to a device that looked like a giant trumpet and spoke into it. His voice echoed throughout the vast hall as he said, “The winner is Everett, who will receive a grant to help him finish devising a nonmagical means to power an airship.” The crowd cheered, and the Mechanics slapped Everett on the back as the band resumed playing.

  “Care for another dance?” Alec asked. I shifted the notebook into my left hand and rested it on his shoulder as he swept me onto the floor. We’d barely made a circuit when the music stopped again. The dancers grumbled, but then there was a shout from above.

  Everyone looked up to the old theater’s balcony to see a man waving a long streamer of paper. “They’re searching the area again! Everyone out!”

  Chaos ensued as people ran left and right, gathering machines and running with them toward the exits. Others pulled banners off the balcony railing. I saw the rest of the newcomers being herded back to the basement, the way we’d come in, and I started to follow them, but Alec grabbed my hand and hustled me to a doorway beside the stage. “I know another way out,” he explained.

  Down in the basement, where a steam engine that looked like it had been built from the building’s furnace chugge
d away, Alec shut and barred the door before pulling the goggles off his forehead and donning a coat that hung on the back of a chair. “This is our dynamo that powers the lights,” he explained as he moved a ladder beneath an open window. “I hope they don’t seize it. I’ll go up first to make sure it’s safe, then you climb up after me.”

  He clambered up the ladder and out through the ground-level window. A moment later he gestured to me. I gathered my skirts and climbed as quickly as I could. When I reached the top, Alec pulled me through the window and lifted me to my feet.

  We were in what must have been an alley behind the theater. Alec pulled a large handkerchief out of his pocket and said, “I’m sorry, but you aren’t yet a member.”

  I realized he was going to blindfold me. I didn’t feel I had the option to protest, so I let him wrap the handkerchief around my eyes and tie it. He guided me down the alley, his arm around my waist. We made two or three turns, and soon I heard street noise. He stopped and untied my blindfold, then unpinned his Mechanics’ insignia and put it in his pocket with the handkerchief. Following his lead, I removed the insignia Lizzie had given me, putting it in my pocket. I tucked the notebook under my arm as Alec peered out of the alley. He nodded, offered me his arm, and we stepped onto the sidewalk, blending in with the Saturday night crowds. “Try not to look nervous,” he whispered. “You’re merely out for the evening. There’s no reason to worry that anyone’s following you.” I nodded stiffly and forced myself to look ahead instead of darting glances over my shoulder. The blindfold had been entirely unnecessary, as I had no idea where I was even with it removed.

  A distant clang of bells and the shriek of whistles could have been the police closing in on the theater, or it could have been a normal Saturday night in New York City. There seemed to be an alarming number of red-coated soldiers on the street. Were they also part of the raid? I’d always before seen soldiers as a sign of Imperial security and stability, but now they looked threatening.

  After we’d walked several blocks, Alec pulled me into a narrow gap between buildings. He took a coil of wire out of his waistcoat pocket and clamped one end to a cable dangling into the alley down the side of the building. At the other end of Alec’s wire was a small disk that he held against his ear. He listened for a moment, then tapped on a tiny lever attached to his wire before disconnecting the apparatus and returning it to his pocket.

  “Looks like everyone got out safely with all their machines. As far as the police knew, it was just an empty theater. But that was a close call. We’ll have to be more careful in the future,” he said. Then he explained, gesturing at the cable, “It’s a telegraph. It sends electrical signals down wires so we can communicate using a code. The cables go from building to building, hidden around clotheslines, and there are wires all over that we can tap into. The moment there’s a sign of danger from any lookout, the signal travels as fast as light, and we get the warning in plenty of time.”

  We were very close together in the tight space, and although there had been a chill in the air, I felt rather warm. I couldn’t help but sigh in disappointment when he said, “I’d better get you home. I’m sorry the party turned out this way for you.”

  We caught the Third Avenue bus heading uptown, and the long ride gave me time to think. After we got off the bus, as Alec escorted me the last few blocks to my home, I ventured, “Lizzie told me it wasn’t a political gathering.”

  “Did you see us doing anything political? They’re the ones who make it political. We can’t even have a party without being harassed.” He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

  “If it wasn’t political, then why were the police looking for your headquarters?”

  “They want to find and shut down our inventions so everyone will stay dependent on magical power.”

  “Building machines is illegal?”

  “There’s no law against it, but they come up with other excuses to come after us, like accusing us of sedition or treason. Not that they yet have any evidence of that, no matter how many times they search the area.”

  “That’s not at all fair! Those machines could do good!”

  We stopped on a dark corner, and he turned to face me. “So you see why I tend to burst out in political speeches. I can create wonderful things, but they want to stop me because I’m not a magister.”

  I resumed walking, lost in thought. There was so much I hadn’t considered, that I hadn’t known. The colonial government had always seemed benign, aside from levying higher and higher taxes. But harassing innocent people merely because they could do amazing things without magic was monstrous.

  Alec must have realized I had a lot to think about because he remained silent the rest of the way. He wished me a good night once we reached the end of my block, and then he stood on the corner and watched until I was safely indoors.

  I was still thinking about everything I’d discovered when I encountered Lord Henry on the stairs. “Oh, Miss Newton, you’re back,” he said. “Did you have a good evening?”

  I had, before the police raid, so I smiled and said, “Yes, thank you.” Then I tensed, worried that he might smell alcohol on my breath. Our flight and the journey uptown had cleared my head so I no longer felt tipsy, but I didn’t want my employer to dismiss me for drunkenness.

  He didn’t appear to notice anything amiss. “Good, good,” he said with a vague nod. He paused, frowned as if in thought, then seemed to come to a decision. “Now, might I ask a small favor of you? Matthews is off on an errand for me, and I hate to disturb Mrs. Talbot.”

  “Of course, I’d be happy to help.”

  “I would most appreciate it. Come this way.” He led me toward his study, then he turned back, frowning. “I hope you don’t have a problem with blood.”

  IN WHICH I GET BLOOD ON MY HANDS

  “A problem with blood?” I repeated dumbly, standing dead still in the hallway.

  “You don’t faint or become ill? You certainly don’t seem the type.”

  “But … blood?”

  “I need your assistance with a minor medical matter. I would take care of it myself, but it’s so awkward working with just one hand.”

  All thoughts of the evening’s earlier excitement fled as I faced a new crisis. He opened the study door with his left hand and gestured me inside before closing it behind us. A wave of his left hand made the lights brighter while sending so strong a magical tingle through my body that I had to bite my lip to keep myself from gasping out loud.

  “I need help getting this coat off first,” he said, sounding as calm as if he were asking for the sugar at the breakfast table rather than help in undressing. I suddenly felt very conscious of being alone in the room with him. He extracted his left arm from the sleeve, then had trouble with the right. I dropped Lizzie’s notebook on the desk that sat beside the door so I could peel off the right sleeve for him, and I gasped at what I saw beneath.

  The whole right sleeve of his white shirt was red. I noticed then that my hands had become bloody from handling his coat. The fabric was a dark wool that hadn’t shown the stain, but it was damp with blood and there was a jagged tear in the upper arm. I had never seen quite so much blood all at once, and although I have a strong constitution, I felt queasy.

  He must have heard my gasp, for he hurried to say, “It’s nothing, really. I was merely observing nocturnal insects when I caught my arm on some jagged protuberance. It was most inconvenient.”

  “You’d—you’d better sit down,” I stammered, putting his coat aside. He lowered himself into the desk chair. I fought for and found my inner resolve and firmed my voice to ask, “Do you have medical supplies?”

  “In a box in that lower right drawer.” I followed his directions and found a box clearly marked with a red cross. “While my hobby is not generally dangerous, I am accident-prone, so it pays to be prepared,” he added. I noticed that he was very pale, and beads of sweat were forming on his upper lip and forehead. He’d managed a breezy tone, but he was in pain. />
  I gingerly touched his sleeve to try to see the wound through the torn cloth, and he said, “There are scissors in the kit. Just cut off the sleeve. The shirt’s ruined anyway.” In giving instructions, his voice lost its customary vague quality.

  I snipped around the sleeve, trying not to look at the blood. But then that meant I found myself staring resolutely at the skin my scissors revealed. The sight of his flesh was almost as unsettling as all the blood, though in a different way. I wasn’t sure where to look. I turned my attention to his wrist, where I removed the cuff link so I could pull the damaged sleeve off his arm. The cloth had already stuck to the drying blood, so I had to touch him to remove it. The way he flinched at my touch made me wonder if he was as aware of the strange intimacy of our situation as I was.

  My stomach heaved when I saw the wound. It was a bloody groove across his upper arm. “Are you all right?” he asked, looking at me with deep concern.

  “You need to see a physician,” I said. “I can’t do anything for this.”

  “It’s not as bad as it looks. You just need to clean the wound. I’ll direct you.” There was an unexpected pleading tone to his voice, and he looked very young and nearly as afraid as I felt. When I hesitated, he added, “Please, Miss Newton.”

  I took a couple of deep breaths to steel myself, then followed his instructions. When he winced or gasped in pain, I pulled back, but he urged me on. Finally, I had the wound bandaged.

  He inspected my work and said, “Well done. You make an excellent nurse.”

  “I hope so,” I said, frowning at him in worry. He still looked awful, all pale and sweaty. Without thinking, because I’d done this sort of thing so often for my mother during her illness, I took the handkerchief from my pocket and blotted the sweat from his face. He closed his eyes and gave a little sigh, and then I realized what I was doing and withdrew my hand. I’d used Alec’s handkerchief, which I’d brought to the party with the intention of returning to him but had entirely forgotten in all the excitement, and it seemed a betrayal of him to use it to tend to a magister. I shoved it back into my pocket.