The Voyage of the Minotaur

by Wesley Allison

  “Miss Dechantagne. What a great pleasure to see you again.”

  “I am so pleased to see that you have arrived safely, Professor.”

  “Please Miss Dechantagne,” he said. “We have already been through so much together. You must do me the honor of calling me Mercy.”

  “Mercy,” said Iolanthe, as if trying it out on her lips. “Very well, Mercy, and you may call me Iolanthe.”

  “I will endeavor to do so,” he replied.

  “My boy here,” she said, indicating Saba “will carry your luggage.”

  “I have a suitcase right over there. It’s the yellow one.” Saba hurried over to retrieve it.

  “Mind the gap,” she called to the boy.

  Mercy turned to Iolanthe. “They’ll be taking the freight cars to the docks. I’ve already made the arrangements.”

  “That is one of the things I like about you,” said Iolanthe. “You plan ahead.”

  “Stop. I’ll blush.”

  “Is that it? Under the tarpaulin?”

  “That is it,” said Mercy. “I’m surprised that you want to take the space for it aboard ship. I’m still working on ways to use it—in addition to the military applications we’ve discussed before.”

  “I like to plan ahead too,” said Iolanthe. “Do you know what the first thing that the steam engine was used for? When it was first invented, I mean.”

  “I suppose I should. Textiles, I’m guessing.”

  “No. It was a toy. It sat on a table and just spun around. It didn’t power anything at all. It was a century before someone realized its usefulness. Your machine, Mercy, is going to revolutionize the world. It’s going to be used in ways that we cannot possibly even imagine now. But whatever those ways are, you and I are going to be the ones benefiting from their discovery, not some lucky fool who comes along after we are dead to build upon your work.”

  “And that is what I like most about you, Iolanthe,” said Mercy. “You are a visionary.”

  “Do you have a name for it?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I call it the Result Mechanism.”

  Saba, now carrying a large yellow suitcase rejoined them. Iolanthe led Professor Merced Calliere at a leisurely pace back through the great station. The professor, for his part, never let his eyes stray from the auburn-haired beauty more than was strictly necessary for maneuvering through the great building and the throngs of people in it. For that matter, neither did young Saba.

  “Do you have everything with you for the trip?” asked Iolanthe. “Or are we expecting further baggage deliveries.”

  “No, I have everything with me,” replied Mercy. “With the exception of my two assistants. Mr. Murty and Miss Lusk will be arriving later in the week.”

  “Miss Lusk? I don’t recall ever hearing her name before.”

  “You are quite right,” he said. “While Murty has been with me for years, Miss Lusk is the more recent addition to the project. She is vital however. She’s as sharp as a razor. She is developing a language, so to speak, which will enable us to communicate with the Result Mechanism.”

  “It doesn’t speak Brech? Or at least Zurian?” asked Iolanthe.

  “No, no. It has its own language—the language of numbers. However, once Miss Lusk has done her part, it should be able to understand us, at least after a fashion.”

  “Most fascinating,” said Iolanthe.

  She guided Mercy and the boy out the columned front of the great station, and down the steps to where the steam carriage was parked. Saba filled the furnace with coal from the coal bin, loaded the yellow suitcase into the back, and then climbed in with it. Mercy helped Iolanthe up into the driver’s seat, and then walked around to climb into the forward passenger seat. Iolanthe pulled the carriage away from the curb and slowly accelerated down the street.

  “Did you eat on the train?” Iolanthe asked.

  “Brunch.”

  “Well,” she said. “I do believe that I owe you tea.”

  “I believe you do,” said Mercy.

  Iolanthe maneuvered the steam carriage through the busy streets until she reached the Great Plaza, and steered toward Café Carlo. She turned left, slammed on the decelerator, and pulled up on the brake, coming to a stop just to the left of the café entrance, with one wheel on the sidewalk. She waited for Mercy to climb down and come around to assist her in getting down, not that she truly needed any assistance. Once out of the carriage, she took his arm and the two of them walked in. As they entered, they passed a young girl on the sidewalk with an enormous broom. She seemed somehow familiar to Iolanthe, which caused her to wonder at herself. She usually didn’t notice people like that.

  “This is my favorite spot for tea,” said Iolanthe. “It’s called Café Carlo.”

  The fat proprietor, Iolanthe didn’t know his name, came out to greet her and her guest. Iolanthe had him show them to her usual table. It was outside near the black wrought iron fence that divided the dining area from the sidewalk. Iolanthe preferred it because she could be seen eating an expensive meal by important individuals passing on the street in their steam carriages. If unimportant people, walking by or riding the horse-drawn trolley, could also see her, well there was just no helping that. She glanced up at her own carriage parked along the street and noticed with annoyance that young Saba still sat in the backseat. He was waving at the little girl who was sweeping the sidewalk with the enormous broom. She waved her hand for the proprietor, who was there in a flash.

  “How can I be of service?” he fawned.

  “Have my boy there in the carriage taken in back somewhere and fed.”

  “Will my suitcase be all right?” asked Mercy.

  “I will have your vehicle carefully watched.” said the fat man.

  “Very good,” said Iolanthe. “And bring us a nice tea spread.”

  When the master of the café had left, she turned back to Mercy.

  “I don’t think we need to worry about your suitcase. One reads about crimes in the city all the time, but honestly I’ve never been bothered.”

  “Well it certainly is a magnificent city,” said Mercy. “I haven’t been here in almost two years… well, you remember.”

  “Yes, well you should enjoy it while you can. It may well be more than a few years before you or I have a chance to return.”

  “Yes. It is a beautiful sight to see, but I’m looking forward to the adventure. And of course with you absent, I doubt the city will be nearly as beautiful as it is currently.”

  The fat café proprietor returned with an enormous metal platter covered with dishes, which he began to place carefully on the table in front of them. There were lovely cucumber sandwiches, with the crusts cut off the bread, just the way Iolanthe liked. There was a selection of fine cheeses, sliced apples and pears, and cream-filled cake-shell cookies. Iolanthe and Mercy were each poured a cup of steaming hot tea. Then on an impulse, Iolanthe ordered a bottle of champagne. Soon two sparkling glasses joined the rest of the repast on the white linen tablecloth.

  “Here’s to our grand endeavor,” said Iolanthe, lifting her glass.

  “Here, here,” said Mercy, smiling.

  Chapter Five: The Steel Dragon

  Senta stood on the sidewalk and stared at the palace where the beautiful woman lived, the one whom she had watched so many times in the plaza. It was exactly two weeks since Granny had died, and it was four days since the beautiful woman had almost run over Senta while parking her steam carriage in front of Café Carlo. That day had been Senta’s birthday, though she was sure she was now the only one in the world who remembered that. On her birthday, when the woman had almost run her over, Senta had spoken to the young man, older than she, who had ridden in the back seat of the woman’s carriage. From him, she had learned the woman’s name and she had learned where the woman lived. In the four days since, Senta had spent almost all of her free time watching the comings and goings of the many people who lived in the woman’s palace. It wasn’t as if she had anything more enjoya
ble to do.

  The morning after Granny had died, she had gotten up and gone to work just as she always had. She had done so every day since. But despite keeping up her routine, Senta’s world did not stay the same. It began to slowly unwind. Bertice had arranged for Granny to be buried in Potter’s Field. Then the next day, she had announced that Geert and Maro would be going to live with a distant relation. The day after that, when the two boys had packed and gone, Bertice explained that she would be getting married to Tait Vishmornam, an older man who was one of the managers of the shirtwaist factory where she worked. She would be taking Didrika and Ernst with her, but there was no place in the household of the future Mr. and Mrs. Vishmornam for Senta. She would live with Mrs. Gantonin who lived on the third floor.

  Mrs. Gantonin wasn’t mean or horrible, nor did she ever hit Senta or threaten to hit her. She gave her a place to put her bed made of three crates and a hand-sewn mattress. Mrs. Gantonin did smell funny though. And she took all of Senta’s money and didn’t ever give her back a single pfennig for herself. And all she ever cooked was cabbage. And she made Senta do all the cleaning and washing. And she wasn’t Granny.

  So that day, when the beautiful woman almost ran over Senta on the sidewalk, and Senta had spoken to the young man who had ridden in the back of the beautiful woman’s steam-powered carriage, and she had found out the name of the beautiful woman and where she lived, Senta had gone to see for herself the home of this woman, whom she had so often watched. In the ensuing four days, Senta had watched the front of the palace so much that she could identify many of the people who came and went. She frequently saw Saba Colbshallow, the young man that she had talked to at Café Carlo. She also often saw the head butler, always tall and straight, and always looking as though something violently displeased him. Almost every day she saw the younger of the two soldiers she had seen have tea with the woman on the day that Granny had died, though he wasn’t a soldier any more. He liked to step out and talk to the maids while they worked and he stood with his hands in his pockets. Sometimes the tall blond man, with whom the woman had tea four days before, would come out with him, and then he would pretend the maids weren’t there, and instead talked to the tall blond man. Twice she had seen a very pretty maid with thick black hair, wearing a grey and white dress. She was so pretty that she could have been a princess if she was not a maid. Yesterday she had seen the older of the two soldiers, though he too was no longer a soldier, as he arrived with his duffel bag. She had yet to see the beautiful woman go in or come out of the palace though.

  “What’s so special about that house?” came a voice from behind her.

  Senta turned around to look at a strangely dressed woman standing in the shadow of the building. The woman wore knee-high black leather boots and black leather pants. She had a red and black corset, cut low enough to expose a large star tattooed atop each bosom. Her arms and shoulders were bare, though she wore a spiked collar. Her short blond hair was formed into spikes, pointing in every direction, and made her look frightening—an effect enhanced by her black-lined eyes and deep red lips. The most remarkable thing about the woman though was the ring of sparkly, brightly colored, gem-like objects which floated around her head, making a circle about three feet in diameter, like a large rainbow-hued halo.

  “What’s so special about that house?” the woman repeated. Her husky voice reminded Senta of Geert. She wondered if he, now living with that unknown distant relation, still went to the King’s warehouse for apples.

  “I just like to watch it,” said Senta. “I like to watch the people there.”

  “Mm-hmm. Me too.”

  “Are those real diamonds?” asked Senta.

  “Are what real diamonds?”

  “Are those things floating around your head real diamonds?”

  “There’s nothing floating around my head.”

  “Uh-huh. I can see them.”

  “What do you see?”

  “I see those sparkly things. They’re like diamonds. There are red ones and blue ones and green ones and clear ones. And there’s one purple one.”

  “My, my, my…little girl. You are an interesting one.”

  “My name is Senta Bly.”

  “Yes, I know. And you live with your Granny.”

  “Granny’s dead.”

  “Oh? I see,” said the woman. “So who do you live with now?”

  “I live with the neighbor… Mrs. Gantonin.”

  “None of the rest of your family took you in? And you’re still looking at the glamours.”

  “What are they?”

  “You’ve seen magic spells used before, haven’t you? Hedge wizards showing off in the park?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I am a sorceress. I can cast magic spells—spells more powerful than you can possibly imagine. I can also cast spells that will wait until I need them to take effect. That’s what you’re seeing—my spells which are waiting for me to activate them. Except you’re not supposed to see them. No one else does.”

  “They’re pretty.”

  The sorceress stepped forward and knelt down in front of Senta. She stuck out a finger and poked Senta on the nose.

  “You’re pretty, too. Are you afraid of me? No… you’re not. You should be, but you’re not.”

  “I’m not afraid of too much,” said Senta.

  “That’s very good. That’s very good indeed. Because, you see, my little Senta, you are going to come and live with me. And if you are very good and do everything that I tell you, I am going to teach you things. Ponderous things.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” said Senta.

  “I know you don’t. My name is Zurfina the Magnificent.”

  Zurfina stood up and took Senta by the hand and led her down the sidewalk, away from the palace where the woman who had once worn the white pin-striped dress lived. By the time she had taken her fourth step, Senta no longer wondered at the strange turn of events that had overtaken her. By the time she had taken her tenth step, she no longer thought of pulling her hand from the grip of the blond sorceress and running away. By the time she had taken her sixteenth step, it seemed to Senta as if she was exactly where she was supposed to be, walking down the street at the side of her mistress.

  “Come along, Pet.”

  Zurfina led Senta on a long walk through the city, finally turning south on Prince Tybalt Boulevard and passing Hexagon Park. Throughout their trek, none of the many people on the street seemed to notice the strangely dressed woman leading a small child along by the hand. No one turned a head at all. Just past the park, they turned west on Prince Clitus Avenue and came to a small storefront. There was a sign above the door, but Senta couldn’t read it. It seemed to be written in a strange language. Zurfina opened the door and led her inside.

  The shop contained counters and shelves filled with goods, though Senta couldn’t make out what they were. Several shopkeepers scurried about to help the half dozen customers making purchases. But something was very strange. The customers, the shopkeepers, the counters, and the shelves were all translucent, as if they were made of the same stuff as rainbows, gathered together and transformed into the semblance of people and things one would find in a city shop.

  “What do you see?” asked Zurfina.

  “I see ghosts.”

  “They aren’t ghosts. They’re illusions. To everyone else, they seem real enough. To the people on the street, this shop is just one more emporium of useless mundania. No one ever questions it, and no one ever comes in.”

  Zurfina, still holding Senta by the hand, walked through the shop, and through a doorway in the back, to a staircase leading upwards. At the top of the stairs was a landing and a door, but the sorceress continued up a second flight of stairs to the third floor, where the stairs ended in a blank wall. The sorceress waved her hand and a door appeared. She opened the door and led the girl in to a large and dark room, filled with all manner of strange things. More of the translucent people were moving about. H
ere they were packing away items in large black steamer trunks and stacking trunks into great piles. Unlike downstairs in the shop however, the steamer trunks and the items being placed within them were not, like the people, partially transparent. The items being packed and moved here were real, opaque, and completely solid.

  The first thing that caught Senta’s eye in the room was the dragon. It was almost an exact replica of the dragon that sat in front of Café Carlo—about three feet long, with a wingspan of about four feet, sitting on a stone plinth. Instead of a burnished brass color, though, this dragon looked as though it were cast from steel. The effect was that this dragon looked far less lifelike than the brass one at the café. It looked far less lifelike until it moved. First it blinked its eyes, then it yawned, then it folded its wings and curled its neck up, exposing the underside of its chin. Zurfina rubbed the bottom of its long neck with her fingers, but when she pulled her hand away, it snapped at her with a mouth full of needle sharp teeth.

  “Cheeky twonk!” said the sorceress.

  It was difficult for Senta to pull her eyes away from the steel dragon long enough to look at the rest of the room, but she did so, glancing back at the small reptile again and again. Light in the room came from two sources. At the far end, beyond a large four-poster bed, was a round multi-paneled window, which brought in a stream of daylight illumination. Closer on the left was a glowing orb about a foot in diameter that gave off as much light as the gas lamp that had graced Granny’s apartment. The bed was placed in the center of the room and all around it, against the four walls, were bookshelves stuffed with books, scrolls, and strange artifacts, small tables covered with open volumes, maps, and unusual mechanical devices, and wardrobes, most with the doors hanging open and various articles of clothing, mostly black, hanging upon those open doors.

  Zurfina let go of Senta’s hand and took her by the shoulders to lead her through the many steamer trunks and other objects in the room to a door on the far wall. Opening it, she pushed the girl into a bathroom. It was the first real bathroom that Senta had ever seen. Of course she had seen water closets with modern plumbing and flush toilets, but she hadn’t seen a room with a basin designed for no other purpose than to immerse a person. This room had such a basin, a great claw-footed tub large enough to drown in, as well as two small washbasins and a flushing toilet. The entire room was covered in tiled pieces of ceramic and glass; blue, green, aquamarine, turquoise, teal, and a number of other blue-green shades for which she had no name, forming a mosaic picture of fish and squid and dolphins and mermaids holding tridents. The knob on the faucet above the bathtub turned of its own accord and water began filling the tub and judging by the steam, this water was already hot.