Steampunk Tales, Volume 1

by Ren Cummins

  “Not still angry about Favo, are you?” he said pointedly, taking up his favorite place to sit, across Rom’s shoulders.

  “Favo? What? No!” she replied, emphatically enough to undo her own protestations.

  “Well, good,” Mulligan said, adopting the tone Rom thought reminded her far too much of the Matrons, “because hopefully we’ll have seen the last of him. Cousins and Ian should straighten things out with him and hopefully dissuade him from coming back, leaving us free to go about things as normal.”

  “Normal,” Rom whispered. “Normal for who?”

  “Whom,” he corrected.

  “Shush.”

  Rom looked west over the fields at the slowly setting sun. It wasn’t even late afternoon, she realized, sighing dramatically. She couldn’t wait until nightfall; because then Ian would come to the apothecary and they’d soar above the rooftops and protect the town from the monstrous undying beasts that hunted through the streets each evening.

  She couldn’t do anything fun in the daytime, lest too many people see her and recognize her for what she was. There was already a small bit of talk she’d overheard this morning about “some girl beating up a great blue monster” in the fields. Rom grinned. It hadn’t even been a full day, and people were already whispering about it.

  For just a moment, she let herself wonder what the cranky old Matrons in the orphanage would think if they knew that Rom, the strange little white-haired girl that had been living there only weeks earlier, was now the very thing they worshipped in the temple behind the chidren’s dormitory.

  “How long do you think it’s been since this bell worked?” Rom asked Mulligan. She traced a few lazy circles in the thick soot. The bell that hung from the center supports was cold and heavy – she couldn’t imagine the sounds it could have made.

  Mully crawled along the beams, examining the thick coils of rope that secured the great iron bell. “There’s a good deal of undisturbed dust that’s settled into the hemp here, which means the entire hoist has been stationary for a while. And the dust down there on the crown has a heavy layer of sediment – that depth of crust could only happen after, ten or twenty years, I should think.”

  Rom looked more closely at the dark smudges of soot between her fingertips. Unbidden, her eyes returned as they so often did, to the great Wall that separated the people of Oldtown from the unseen city within. “Why do you think they keep us out here?” she asked him.

  Unfolding his wings, Mully glided down to her shoulder. He balanced himself on her shoulder while cleaning his front paws. “I’m not sure. The knowledge Memory gave me dates back to a time before there even was a wall. Or a city here, even.” He sneezed softly, twitching his nose. “This is definitely very old dust.”

  Rom looked back out to the north, following the gradual curve of the Wall as it slowly diminished towards the east.

  “I never noticed that before, Mully,” she said, her eyebrows scrunching together.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a curved wall.” She pointed out to the top of the Wall, which sloped down in an optical illusion caused by the distance, but more radically because of the curvature of the Wall itself.

  Mully looked from the Wall to Rom and back to the Wall. “Uh, Rom?”

  “Yes?”

  He took a small breath. It wasn’t that he was afraid to tell her what he knew so much as how he was sure she’d react. “I saw the city, yesterday – when I was up in the sky being chased by Yu; remember?”

  She nodded, urging him to continue.

  “Well, I could see it – the Wall does curve around; I couldn’t see much past the buildings on the far side, but you’re right, the Wall is like a big circle, from what I could see.”

  Rom sighed. “A big circle,” she repeated. Suddenly, she snapped her fingers, startling him. “That’s it!” she said.

  “What’s it?”

  She grinned in that particular way which made Mulligan completely certain he was going to regret something. “We’re going to go around the Wall!”

  Chapter 3: Predators and Prey

  “Are they still back there?” Cousins whispered from the corner of his mouth. They’d led their pursuers to the marketplace, where the bustling crowds would afford them a greater ability to communicate, as well as plan their response.

  Ian answered by gesturing towards a stand of knitted blankets, as if shopping. They stood side by side, allowing them to casually see behind their path with their peripheral vision. “Yes. Two men, one in a brown jacket, the other in a white shirt. Do you see them now?”

  Cousins held one end of the blanket he was pretending to examine up in the air as if examining the thread count. Through the material, he saw the two men referred to both pause and begin pointing into a box of corn. He could see by the way they were failing to react to the nearby merchant that their skills in nonchalance were dramatically lacking.

  “Yes, I see them,” he said. “They’re not professionals, these two. But they’re dressed well enough to be more than just thugs. Who do you think sent them?”

  Ian waved his hand from the merchant at their stand, and they began to move on, weaving among the crowded aisles. “They fit too well into their clothes to suggest disguised members of the arts or science guilds,” he said. “That leaves the town council, or… hold still a moment.”

  Cousins paused in his steps long enough for Ian to pinch at something on his shoulder. “You had a tag there,” he said, briefly displaying a faint reddish blot of what looked like clay. He crushed it between his fingers and flicked the dust off onto the street. “It was only a temporary talen,” he said, “but could easily have been used to listen to your immediate area or follow your steps. Turn here.”

  They quickly turned a corner and broke into a run. They managed to reach the end of the alley and turn right again before their tails had made the first turn, and they ran again to the next corner and made another right, trying to come around behind the two men who had been following them.

  Ian pointed ahead of them – the two men had stopped at the place where Ian had broken the talen, one bent over and examining the ground for traces of it while the other looked over the teeming heads of the customers in the market.

  “They’re at least mildly versed in magic,” Ian observed, “but not very skilled in tactics. Let us go introduce ourselves.”

  “Aren’t we trying to lose them?” Cousins asked.

  “Not entirely,” the older man admitted. “But we are also looking for information.”

  Ian reached into his jacket and pulled out two small cards, concealing them in his hand as they approached. The standing man saw them only a few feet away and nudged the other, who stood as they both scrambled to look casual.

  “You can stop that now,” Ian said, gripping them each on the shoulder – Cousins saw twin puffs of smoke as the cards dissolved, engaging their respective charms. Both men’s expressions instantly relaxed – one even looked like he was smiling comfortably. “Now then,” Ian said, “It is time we all had a talk. Have you had tea yet today?”

  Both men shook their heads in the negative, and Ian spun them around in the direction of a very cozy and private teahouse a few blocks away. The charm would last an hour; that would be more than enough time to speak with their new friends.

  * * * * *

  “How exactly did you do that?” Cousins was asking him a little more than an hour later, as they were walking back to the Apothecary, having gleaned all they needed from the two men. “And what are those papers, anyway?”

  Ian smiled. “They are simply a form of magic – a skill of engaging a result at a time of your choosing, without the need to cast the actual magic.”

  “I’ve never seen magicians do that before; is it difficult to learn?”

  “It does take a long time to master it; the most difficult part is to gain a refined degree of skill in the actual casting. How much do you know of magic?”

  “Not a lot,” Cousins admit
ted. “I’ve done a few jobs for people in the colleges, but I’ve just never had the mind for it, I suppose.”

  “Well, magic is defined as the act of employing arcane means to achieve an unexpected result. It is not simply creating something from nothing, as some believe; it still must adhere to laws of science and art. Water is wet, fire burns, the wind blows, etc.” He drew a card from his pocket. “But there are laws which, while unknown or forgotten to most, still exist. For example, this card has been imprinted with a concealment spell. Simple, effective.”

  “How was it made?”

  “I began the spell several days ago, but before releasing the result, I channeled it into this design on the paper itself.”

  Cousins looked at the paper. The design – if it could be called as such – was mostly a series of apparently random penstrokes, curves and blotches. “Doesn’t look like much,” he said.

  Chuckling, Ian continued. “This is the most difficult part of Metadiagraphics – the science of imbuing magical qualities into writing – placing the magical charge into ink in a way which retains the effect but still possesses the distinctiveness that allows you to recognize the magical spell you employed.”

  Cousins nodded. “So this one – this spell of concealment – what does it do?”

  “Ah, I’m quite proud of this one; it’s a spell I invented. It combines a distraction cantrip – which makes the target momentarily look away from whatever he is looking at towards something which is not there – and then follows that up with a short term selective memory spell, which erases the initial object from their mind. It caps this all off with a minor camouflaging glyph that allows the user to simply blend into the background.”

  “So even if they did see you…”

  “They would ignore you.” Ian grinned. “This can be quite useful.”

  Cousins looked more closely at the paper. “Can those spells be cast into any kind of paper?”

  “Yes, of course,” Ian replied, tucking the item back into a bound number of similar papers within his jacket. “The paper is just paper, nothing more.”

  An idea formed in the back of Cousins’ mind, but was shuffled off by another thought. “Oh, that reminds me!” Cousins snapped his fingers. “Did you do something to Favo and Molla? They didn’t seem to recognize you at all!”

  Ian laughed. “That, my young friend, is another story for another time. Suffice it to say Favo has met me more than once; but he will never remember me until I release the spell.”

  “That could come in handy,” Cousins said admiringly.

  “It already has. Favo doesn’t do away with people he does not understand; nor does he allow Molla to do so.” They turned the corner nearest Goya’s shop. “He’s superstitious that way.”

  “Which explains why he’s never come after me too aggressively,” Cousins nodded. “He’s always been confused as to why I won’t go work for him.”

  “Exactly.”

  Cousins stopped in his tracks. “Ian?”

  The taller man turned to regard him. “Yes?”

  “Have we met before? Like before, in a way I wouldn’t have remembered?”

  Turning around, Ian casually responded, “No, of course not.”

  Running after him, Cousins repeated the question. “We have, haven’t we? Come on, Ian, tell me!”

  Ian paused long enough for Cousins to catch up. “That will have to wait for another day,” he said with a smirk. “We’re here, now.”

  Cousins sighed. “You and your secrets,” he muttered. “One day I’ll suss you out.”

  With a shrug, Ian opened the door of the shop, letting Cousins in first. “Go find the girls, I’ll speak with Goya and tell her the bad news.”

  “And the good, too,” Cousins urged. “She strikes me as the sort of woman who prefers a bit of honey in her tea.”

  Cousins waved to Briseida and ran upstairs, taking the steps three at a time. He hoped the girls were in good moods.

  Ian looked after him and casually nodded to Briseida as he passed her. Goya did prefer to receive good news, but there might not be sufficient to outweigh the bad in this case, he feared.

  Chapter 4: Sheharid, Smith and Seer

  Business was slow in the apothecary; they locked up and drew the shades so they could all speak in the dining room uninterrupted. Cousins noticed Rom and Kari both wore subtly altered expressions – clearly, their day had been somewhat noteworthy as well, but he decided he’d just ask them about it later. Briseida and Ian helped Goya down the stairs and to a chair at the head of the table, while Ian took a seat at the opposite end. The others sat as well, and waited for him to begin.

  “Cousins and I have had a fruitful morning, which has given us a good deal of information. Namely, we met with Favo and his assistant. They send their regards, suspect we still possess the item they have been seeking, and are willing to go to great lengths to get it.” He paused a moment before continuing. “But we also encountered two gentlemen who are working on behalf of other… interested parties, who have been paid to locate something of value to their employer.”

  His eyes rested on Rom. “Or, I should say, someone of value.”

  “Me?” she asked, horrified.

  He and Cousins both nodded. “Their description of you is vague – simply that you are a young girl, between ten and eighteen years of age, with white hair and at least one rather obvious purple gem in her forehead.” He cocked his head slightly, smiling. “You now have two gems, however, I see.”

  She fidgeted self-consciously with the gems as all eyes looked to her. “I, um, found another creature out in the fields yesterday, and…um…he’s here,” she explained, pointing to the new stone. “He asked to stay so he could fight for me and… well, I don’t know that much about it all yet. But yes… I’ve got two gems now.” She caught Kari’s grin and one curled her lips as well. “Two.”

  Ian smiled, nodding. “It means you are developing as a Sheharid Is’iin a good deal more rapidly than normal; which, considering the circumstances is quite a benefit.” He looked back towards the entire group. “As to the men, if their benefactor is who I suspect it may be, we must take steps to prevent them from locating Rom. As their description of their target is weak, we can take advantage of that to further conceal her from them.”

  Briseida reached out to Rom and stroked her white hair; the light caught itself in her curls and displayed a range of shades from light grey through a lighter, shimmering opalescence. Living above the apothecary gave her the opportunity to keep her hair cleaner than she had in the orphanage, giving her a sort of silver crown to surround her face. “We should color your hair,” she said. “Brown, perhaps? Or yellow; or even black, perhaps?”

  Rom looked around the table. Kari’s hair was dark black – it nearly shone with a bluish tint in the right light – and Cousins’ was light blonde. She’d always liked having a unique color to her hair; she was briefly sad to lose that, but recognized the sobriety of the situation. “Brown will be okay,” she said, obviously not entirely thrilled by it.

  Kari nudged her. “It’ll go great with your eyes,” she said.

  “Do I have to do it now?” Rom asked. “I was…I was going to go do something later today.”

  Goya shook her head. “I believe this would take precedence over anything else, including your daily trainings with Ian.”

  Rom’s expression hardened as she looked back to Ian. Mulligan raised his head and looked at him, as well. Rom asked, “So who is it that hired them to try and find me? And how did you find them?”

  “They found us, actually,” confessed Cousins.

  Ian explained, “It was quite by accident – they were looking for something else entirely when we showed up to speak with Favo, and were following us in search of the same thing Favo wanted. But while we spoke to them of that, they elaborated on another assignment they had, which was the search for you, Rom.”

  Ian continued, “But fortune is on our side, in that they know relatively little
about Oldtown-Against-the-Wall.”

  Rom and Kari looked at each other, slightly confused, while Cousins looked down at the table. It was Goya who explained this, with a confirming question:

  “They are from inside the Wall, then? From Aesirium?”

  Cousins and Ian nodded. “They are Conscription Constables,” Ian explained. “Rank three officers in a sort of armed military forces employed by the Queen, not like our own Constables in the defense guild. Their orders came from their superior officers, so while I cannot be certain, I suspect they originate from the Queen herself. Fortunately, these men had very limited training in the use of countermagic, so I was able to both acquire the information we needed, and cause them to forget they spoke with us at all. But I could not remove the knowledge of their mission without raising suspicion.”

  Kari interjected her own question. “I thought the Wall’s been closed for years?”

  “From time to time, we find evidence of their agents sneaking among us,” Briseida replied. “But, no, they have not sent citizens out from the wall in many years. At least, they have not done so obviously. And we suspect they at least mount guards along the top of the Wall to watch us, and keep us from attempting to cross over or through.”

  Rom scratched Mulligan’s ears as she pondered this. “What else did they know about me? Just how old I was, what I looked like?”

  Cousins shook his head. “They knew your name. But you do tend to leave an impression on the people you meet. It’s likely to be just a matter of time before they find you here.”

  Rom said. “If they ask around, people might recognize my name and refer them to the Orphanage, which would lead them here easy enough.”