by Tim Pratt
“I am repulsed to find myself in agreement with Oswald on any point,” Pimm said.
“Even lunatics can have good ideas on occasion,” Adams said. “The problem with Oswald is, he does not understand people, not even remotely. He has some interesting insights about larger systems, but when it comes to individuals…” Adams shook his head. “He simply doesn’t understand what motivates actual humans. He views everything intellectually, and whenever the world fails to behave rationally, it bewilders him. Oh, he knows people have feelings, or claim to, but he doesn’t experience much in the way of emotion himself. Oswald has no true understanding regarding universal human motivations like spite, jealousy, anger, generosity, charity… or love.”
“Speaking of love… Oswald infected Prince Albert with the Affliction, didn’t he?”
“Ah.” Adams clapped his hands together, slowly. “We now surpass the merely criminal and come ever closer to treason, do we not?
Other Plans
“That’s a yes, then?” Pimm said.
“Our Queen was devoted to her Prince. Oswald hoped to gain her favor by helping to save the man’s life—but when he succeeded, the Queen became ever more devoted to Albert, having realized how bereft his loss would have made her. She was favorably disposed toward Oswald, of course, but Oswald couldn’t get close enough for his purposes. So, yes—he injected the man, using one of those cunning little rings said to be favored by the Borgias of Italy.”
“Hollow, filled with poison, with a tiny needle on the underside,” Pimm said.
“Indeed. A handshake, a barely-perceptible sting, and—the plague was passed on to the Prince Consort himself. Since it is well known that the only way anyone contracts the Constantine Affliction is by having sexual relations, the prince’s denials of adultery were all in vain. Albert’s death would have been preferable—so long as he died from something like the Affliction, to alienate the Queen’s affection—but his transformation and subsequent imprisonment were good enough. Oswald took the opportunity to comfort the Queen in her time of sorrow and outrage. He can be quite charming, when he puts his mind to it, though he treats ingratiating himself with people like any other mechanical problem.”
Pimm stood up and began to pace. “All right. But why poison Prince Albert? Does Oswald want to be the Queen’s consort himself? It’s not as if the position includes much in the way of power, and she’s shown no inclination to divorce Albert, anyway.”
“Oswald has to get close to her,” Adams said. “How else can he possibly be in a position to replace her?”
Pimm stopped walking, staring off into space. “Wait. Wait… No. I don’t see it. Explain?”
Adams rose from his stool and began to sort tools on the long work table, placing some into a large leather satchel. “His original plan was merely to seize control of the Queen—to take over her mind, and force her to do his bidding. That was the goal of my project.”
“What?” Pimm said.
“Oh, yes,” Adams said. “Oswald is quite skilled at manipulating tiny bacteria, but he cannot equal my genius in dealing with the human body.” He gestured to the brain, floating in its liquid. “You know I am very good with brains. Don’t worry, Margaret cannot hear me—I disconnected her sensory apparatus, as there are things I plan to say I would rather she not overhear. Oswald’s hope was that I could create a device that would enable him to control the Queen’s mind. Alas, my results were not all that Oswald hoped. I was capable of making humans behave tractably, obeying instructions, but in the absence of guidance, they were docile, almost doll-like, without any spark of personality. That was not good enough for Oswald—he feared a Queen incapable of feeding herself without being told to do so might elicit some notice. But I thought the whole point of being Queen was that others had to feed you—”
Pimm reached into his pocket, touching one of Freddy’s keen little devices. “You are saying you… destroyed the minds of people, in your experiments?”
Adams waved a hand. “Save your outrage, Lord Pembroke. I only experimented on the brains of dead whores. It’s all very technical. I replace their blood with a special solution that restores a semblance of life, then perform the necessary surgeries on their brains, implanting a device based on recent magnetic innovations. You’d be amazed what a strong magnetic field can do to a brain, and thus to human behavior. Value returned the women I resurrected to their old lives as prostitutes, where a lack of initiative and complete obedience are admirable qualities. They aren’t allowed on the streets, though—they serve in rather depraved secret brothels, I understand, but rest assured, they are beyond feeling pain or sadness or despair.”
Pimm released the device, but his hands still trembled. “Even so. That is a desecration, Adams, it is monstrous—”
“I am a monster, sir,” Adams said softly. “I have been called such my entire life, and see no reason to dispute it now.” He stood unmoving for a moment, then shook his head and returned to sorting his tools. “I had hopes for better results if I could operate on the brain of a living person, to find a way to take control without destroying the personality, but Oswald… lost interest in my studies.”
“I’m told he does that,” Pimm said.
“Yes. He became more enamored with the concept of replacing the Queen than with merely controlling her.”
“What do you mean, replacing her? With whom?” Pimm was thinking of certain melodramatic novels where kings discovered peasants who resembled them down to the last detail, allowing each to take the other’s place.
“A clockwork replica, of course,” Adams said. “Like the courtesans, but wrought in the Queen’s image, and much more lifelike, as advanced a creation as Oswald is capable of producing.”
Pimm gaped. His speculations had never taken him so far. “Good God, man, can you be serious?”
“He may have already replaced her.” Adams spoke with a curious indifference, as if the situation did not concern him one way or another. He held up a tiny gearwheel, gazed at it in the light, grunted, and put it in the bag. “I am not privy to the details of his plan.”
“But what would become of the real Queen?”
“Oswald did not share those plans with me, either, though he implied that he did not intend to kill her. I’m sure he does not want to risk someone finding her remains. Removing a corpse from the royal residence without arousing suspicion would be difficult. Though spiriting her out of the palace alive and whole would be difficult as well. Still, I’m sure Oswald’s intellect is equal to the challenge.”
“All right,” Pimm said after a moment’s thought. “Suppose all this is true. Again, I must ask, to what end? Why does Pimm want to replace the Queen, or control her mind? It’s not as if she can give him the keys to the treasury, and from all accounts he doesn’t want for money anyway. To have power, and rule by her side? Once the monarchs of England were absolute rulers, but those days have passed—the Queen herself helped make sure of that.”
“As to his ultimate purpose, I don’t care to speculate.” Adams slammed his valise shut. “Oswald has hinted that he has some grand experiment in mind, something that involves large-scale construction and demolition in the city, the sort of things he needs influence in government to accomplish, but frankly I did not have much interest in his wild ideas, and never pressed him for details. Perhaps he means to replace the Prime Minister and other government officials with automatons as well? Certainly his clockwork Queen could summon them for a closed-door session. Oswald could gas them all into unconsciousness and replace them. He hasn’t told me that’s his plan, but it is the way his mind works. The Queen does give him access to the highest corridors of power. If he’d cultivated the friendship of some minister, say, they might have left government service before his plan could come to fruition—but the Queen is forever.”
“Adams, if what you say is true, we have to stop him—”
“You have to stop him, sir. That is why I brought you here. To tell you what I know, and set you
on your course. I wish you luck. As I said, I do not intend to remain here for long.”
“Where are you going?”
“I have not yet decided,” Adams said. “There are so many wonderful places for a honeymoon, are there not?”
Pimm blinked. “You are… to be wed?”
“I am.” Adams seemed to be looking at him steadily, though with the mask, it was hard to be sure.
“My most heartfelt congratulations.” Pimm’s words emerged automatically. “May the two of you be very happy together.”
“I am sure we shall be,” Adams said, and, strangely, caressed the jar containing the dead prostitute’s brain. “Assuming we can get far, far away from London. If you are successful in exposing Oswald, I am sure we will read about it in the newspapers, and if so, I may return. But Oswald has already tried to kill me once today. I do not wish to be here when he realizes he failed.”
“He…. does not strike me as the kind of person who leaves things half-done,” Pimm said. “How did he try to kill you?”
“He shot me in the heart,” Adams said. “Fortunately, I have another. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Lord Pembroke, I have quite a lot to do before I can leave the city.”
“Ah.” Pimm blinked, wondering if he’d misheard the man, and if he hadn’t, wondering what that meant. “If you’ll just… point me toward an exit?”
“Certainly,” Adams said. “While, alas, many of my preferred points of egress have been rendered impassable, there are one or two tunnels still open to me, which lead on to other tunnels, and so on. Where in the city would you prefer to emerge?”
That, Pimm thought, was an excellent question. “Oswald himself will be easy to find—even if he isn’t at home, his Grand Exposition is tonight, and I can find him there. But if I confronted him, he would just deny everything. What I need is proof—if not of his treason, than at least of his crimes, something I can give to my associates among the police. Do you have anything concrete linking Oswald to criminal acts?”
“I do not. Nor would my own sworn testimony do you much good, as, officially, I do not even exist. My involvement would bring more questions than answers, and I am not inclined to remain here so long in any case.” He paused. “But you might talk to Mr. Value. He is a businessman, after all, and such men do tend to keep records. Value, especially, strikes me as the sort of prudent man who might make a point of keeping incriminating material on hand to serve as insurance in the case of a… falling out with his associates.”
“Value is fleeing the city, too,” Pimm said. “If he does have such insurance, he didn’t believe it was equal to the task of keeping him safe—or simply knew it would serve to incriminate him as well. Still, if I can reach him before he leaves… Do any of your tunnels emerge near the Black Dog tavern, by Blackfriars Bridge?”
“My dear Lord Pembroke,” Adams said, “my tunnels connect to the sewers, and the ruined cellars of fallen houses, and the ancient Roman viaducts from the days when this city was still called Londinium. If you are willing to walk far enough, my tunnels lead everywhere.”
In the Employ of Great Men
“My employees are so unobservant.” Oswald sighed as he gazed at Ellie through the bars. “Put a false mustache on that lovely face, Miss Skyler—or do you prefer your nom-de-plume, Skye?—and you are clearly the very image of our elusive Mr. Jenkins. You were in the brothel to write a story, I suppose?”
Ellie drew herself up straight. “Yes, sir. A secret look inside a scandalous house of clockwork ill repute.”
“I’m sure it would have been a fascinating article,” Oswald said, with seemingly real regret. “You are a fine writer. It is a shame that your inquisitiveness led you to discover my presence at the brothel. Which, of course, has brought us to this point, as inevitably as rivers flow to the sea. Normally, I would have offered you a substantial sum of money to remain quiet about my involvement with the clockwork courtesans, but you happened to discover my scandalous secret at an incredibly delicate time—a time when I can afford no hint of scandal, nor bear any special scrutiny at all. As for how you became involved with Lord Pembroke and his wife, and their investigations… I confess a certain degree of confusion on that point, but I suppose it does not matter.” He turned and bowed to Winnie. “Lady Pembroke. I am sorry you had to become involved in this.”
“It is easily remedied,” Winnie said. “Set us free.”
“Alas! Would that I could. But I feel it is best if the two of you remain my guests, for now, at least until I have the chance to alter your low opinion of me.”
“Locking us up is certainly a good beginning,” Winnie said. “You’ve made a marvelous first impression.”
Oswald paid little attention to her. “I do not propose to detain you forever, even if you prove intractable. Just for a few days, probably, and at the very worst no more than a few weeks. By then, things will have progressed far enough that any wild allegations you make against me will be irrelevant.”
“If we are gone for any amount of time, there will be inquiries,” Winnie said.
Oswald waved a hand. “Oh, fear not—if a long imprisonment proves necessary, I will have you both replaced with clockwork replicas. They will not fool your closest friends, perhaps, but they will suffice to prove you are both alive and well.”
“Pimm will never be fooled by such a device,” Winnie said.
“Yes,” Oswald said. “I know. I had him under observation too, of course, but he slipped his leash this morning. My people are looking for him, though, and I have no doubt he will be found soon. I’m sure he’ll join us in due time. Just make yourselves comfortable. I’ll see if we can manage more pleasant quarters for you soon.” He turned away.
“Wait!” Ellie cried. “I don’t understand—I thought you had questions for us?”
“Hmmm? Oh, I merely wanted to know how you were connected with Jenkins, and where I could find him, but since you are Jenkins, that is no longer relevant. I do wish to tell you some things, to explain myself, and make you see that opposition to me is synonymous with opposition to progress… but I want Lord Pembroke to hear my arguments as well, and I see no reason to repeat myself. Carrington, stay here while I…. attend to some other business.”
“Going to check on the other prisoner?” Carrington said, and Oswald lashed out with his walking stick, cracking Carrington across the cheek and sending the man reeling.
“You are entirely too talkative, Mr. Carrington,” Oswald said mildly, and walked off into the dark.
Carrington pressed his hand to his cheek and stared after Sir Bertram with an expression of ferocious hatred. “I talk too much?” he said darkly. “This from the great lecturer?”
“You have a most unpleasant employer,” Winnie said.
“He is a brilliant man,” Carrington said, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “One must… make allowances for brilliant men.”
“Must one?” Winnie said. “Pimm is brilliant, but if he beat me with a cane, I can’t say I would make allowances for that. But then, I’m a very modern girl, after all. So there’s another prisoner, eh?”
“Be quiet,” Carrington said. “Women shouldn’t speak—even false women like yourself.”
“You should be nicer, Carrington,” Ellie said. “If we’re going to spend weeks together. What does your lord and master have in mind? What’s his great experiment? Come, there’s no harm in telling us, not if we’re imprisoned anyway.”
“It is Sir Bertram’s tale to tell,” Carrington said. “But let me just say… nothing will ever be the same. The promise of science is the complete transformation of the world. And that promise is soon to be fulfilled.”
“And you are lucky enough to be beaten about the head by the man who will change the world?” Winnie said brightly. “How proud you must be!”
Pimm returned to the office behind the tavern, hoping to find Value still there, but the only inhabitant was Big Ben, who sat in Value’s old chair, gazing up at the ceiling.
“He
llo, m’lord,” Ben said. “What brings you here?”
“I was hoping to speak to Mr. Value.”
“He has departed for parts unspecified, sir. I do not think we’ll be seeing him again.”
“All right,” Pimm said. “Do you have any loyalty to Bertram Oswald, Ben?”
“Never worked for the man,” Ben said. “Mr. Value hired me personally. Wanted someone loyal to him, not paid out of Oswald’s pocket, I think. Mr. Oswald made overtures to me from time to time, asked me to keep him informed about Mr. Value’s actions, but I just took his money and told him lies. I’m not what you’d call a good man, necessarily, not in all respects, but I’m honorable in my way.”
“Then perhaps you’d be willing to help me bring Mr. Oswald to justice?”
Ben pondered. “I try to stay as far away from justice as I can, as a rule, lest some of it get splashed on me, but I am, as it happens, looking for a new position in life, my previous employment having ended suddenly. What would you like me to do?”
“If Mr. Value has any paperwork linking him to Oswald—”
“Ah, no, sir, I’m afraid one of my recent duties was burning nearly every bit of recordkeeping Mr. Value kept. Both sets of books for all his legal businesses, and everything else as well. He converted as much as he could into ready cash and legged it, and didn’t want to leave anything in the way of evidence behind. A prudent man, our Mr. Value.”
Pimm nodded, disappointed but not surprised. “I need some kind of proof, something I can take to the authorities, that Oswald is involved in illegal activities. Just an investigation would be enough, really, once the police start looking I’m sure they’ll find—”
“Perhaps there’s something in the way of paperwork at Oswald’s factory, sir,” Ben said. “He orders parts from all over, so there must be records there.”
