Daughters of Aether

by Nicholas Petrarch

  Did she really want Emmaline to be with someone who hadn’t noticed her until she’d been pointed out by his father? Emmaline shook her head in frustration, tightening her hands around her. It was beyond consideration.

  Psst!

  Emmaline’s head snapped around when she heard the sound. It had startled her at first, but as she looked closer she realized someone was hiding at the edge of the booth. Reluctantly she leaned closer until she could see clearly.

  “Stoddard!” she said in surprise, glancing quickly back at her parents. They appeared to be preoccupied, but she wasn’t sure how long that would last. Farley was still going on about his ships. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I came to see you,” Stoddard said. “I’m sorry if this is a bit untoward, but I didn’t want to leave things on such a low note. Not when I didn’t get a chance to tell you how much I enjoyed our evening together.”

  “I enjoyed it too,” she said, scooting herself a little closer to the edge and keeping a careful eye on her parents. “I appreciate you coming, but you really shouldn’t be here. This is Farley’s private booth. If he sees you here, it’s only going to be a repeat of last time.”

  “Are you here to watch the races?” Stoddard asked.

  “We are,” she said. “My family was invited. Wait? How did you even find me here?”

  Stoddard grinned sheepishly. “There was a certain maid at your estate,” he explained. “When I tried to find you she told me you’d gone, and when I explained who I was, she pointed me in the right direction. Apparently she thought it was a good idea that we see each other again.”

  Emmaline blushed with embarrassment. She’d have to give Anne an earful when she got home. “Anne talked out of turn,” she said, trying to maintain an appropriate amount of disapproval.

  “I’m glad she did,” Stoddard smiled, and Emmaline felt herself smile too.

  “Emmaline? Who are you talking to?”

  Emmaline eye’s clamped shut and the hair stuck up on the back of her neck as her father stepped up behind her. The warmth ran out her fingers and toes and she went rigid as her father’s hand rested on her shoulder.

  Stoddard swallowed hard, but stepped forward so he could be seen clearly and bowed respectfully to Worthington. “Sir,” he said.

  “Who are you?” Worthington asked, his face becoming severe at the discovery of a man hiding near his daughter. His grip on Emmaline’s shoulder tightened.

  “I’m sorry for the unorthodox introduction,” Stoddard said. “I was just catching up with your daughter. My name is Stoddard. I met Emmaline at—”

  “Oh, yes,” Worthington said, recognition hitting him. “You are the doctor who tended to her foot. Emmaline told me you’d helped her.”

  Stoddard gave Emmaline an inquisitive look, but nodded slowly. “Yes… I was just checking up with her to make sure everything was alright.”

  “I’m quite well now, thank you,” Emmaline said.

  “That’s good,” Stoddard said, shuffling in place. “That’s very good.”

  Emmaline offered a silent prayer Stoddard would take the opportunity and go for his own sake. She wasn’t sure how long their little miscommunication would last.

  “You’re quite young to be a doctor,” Worthington observed.

  “Yes, well…” Stoddard stumbled. “I’ve been told that.”

  “What is he doing here?” Farley asked, coming up beside Worthington. His expression filled with disdain at the sight of Stoddard. “Young man, I don’t know what’s gotten into you but this is my private box. You can have no business here.”

  “I’d say he was lost except this is the second time he’s found his way to Worthington’s daughter,” Edmond said, coming forward. Apparently he’d returned from getting ready and Emmaline hadn’t noticed. “Shouldn’t you be busy tinkering?”

  Stoddard met Edmond’s glare with his own.

  “So… you aren’t Emmaline’s doctor?” Worthington asked.

  “He’s just a common apprentice of a tinkerer from Baroedge,” Farley said. “Yes, that’s right. We know who you are. It didn’t take long after your efforts at the ball to find out exactly where you sprung up from.”

  “I’m sorry,” Stoddard said to Worthington. “I didn’t mean to mislead you. But I did help look after your daughter at the Solstice Ball.

  “Yes,” Farley frowned. “The little snipe was quite eager to see she had a companion. What else he was after we can only assume.” He eyed Stoddard as he stepped forward so as to look down at him from the added height of the booth. “I thought I made it quite clear last we spoke that you should mind your status. You’re out of your element, boy.”

  “But, since you’re here,” Edmond added making an effort to appear bored. “One of my ships has been having some troubles with its furnace. Perhaps you can make yourself useful and see to that?”

  Emmaline strained against her seat as she listened to them berate Stoddard. It wasn’t fair. He’d done as much good for her than any of them had since she’d come to the city. “If his dancing is any indication of his skills, then I would think he’d be better flying one,” she said, coming to his defense.

  She got some unexpected looks at that. Even Stoddard gave her a sideways glance.

  “I’m afraid it’s a little more complicated than that,” Farley chuckled condescendingly.

  “Is it?” Stoddard asked. “Which part? The ballast? The dual furnace? Or were you thinking of the split propeller system? I’ve been to my fair share of festivals before now. I’m aware of what it takes to fly a dinghy.”

  Edmond looked surprised, but he didn’t let it get the better of him for long.

  “He’s no pilot,” he insisted.

  “But he is a mechanist,” Worthington said, almost amused. Emmaline was surprised to see him grinning, his eyes alight as he looked over Stoddard. “And what is the craft but a contraption? It would make for an interesting experiment, wouldn’t it?”

  “What are you suggesting?” Farley asked.

  “I’m saying, why not see which is a more valued skill in a race,” Worthington said.

  “Worthington, you can’t be serious,” Mary said.

  “I certainly am.” Worthington was smiling broadly now, and Emmaline felt she’d missed something. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her father smile like that.

  “He doesn’t even have a ship,” Edmond protested.

  “But you do,” Emmaline pointed out. “Perhaps you could lend him one.”

  Edmond looked at her like she’d just proposed he leap off the edge of the cliff without a ship at all.

  “Lend him one?” Farley scoffed. “Why on earth would we do such a thing? Those are valuable craft. If he were to damage one—”

  “I’m sure it wouldn’t put you out very much,” Worthington said. “With all your talk about your expansive fleet, what’s one dinghy?”

  Emmaline’s jaw nearly dropped. Was her father really siding with Stoddard? Why would he do such a thing?

  “Worthington, if I may,” Farley started, but Worthington cut him off. It almost looked like he was humored by it the way he looked at the two young men squaring off.

  “This is an interesting development,” he said. “Perhaps we should see this through.”

  “But he’s just a mechanist!” Farley objected.

  “Perhaps,” Worthington said. “However, I too know where it is he comes from. Your master is Rigimor, yes?”

  Stoddard nodded.

  “I remember you now,” Worthington said. “You’ve come to my home with Rigimor to attend to Captain Harper. The same Rigimor who surprised the world when he fashioned a prosthetic so baffling for our good captain that even he himself could not explain it,” Worthington recalled.

  “Perhaps his apprentice will surprise us with a feat of his own. It appears we have an opportunity for a real competition on our hands. If Stoddard feels he can best Edmond at his own game, then perhaps we’ll have reason to
pay more attention to this young mechanist from Baroedge. If not, then I’d hope he’d have the good sense to return there.

  “What do you say, Edmond? Would you accept such a challenge?” Worthington asked.

  Edmond looked at Stoddard hard, his expression calculating. Emmaline could only assume how much it wounded his pride to be forced into such a position. Nevertheless, he nodded decidedly.

  “I accept,” he said.

  “And you, Stoddard?” Worthington asked. “Are you prepared to accept this challenge?”

  Stoddard glanced at Emmaline. He looked significantly less confident, but he nodded.

  Worthington smiled. “Then it seems we have ourselves a match.”

  The boy shows promise, I think, though I fear nothing will ever come of it. He possesses a studious mind, but his drive isn’t equal to his dreams. Nonetheless, he’d make a perfectly adequate assistant.

  —Excerpt from the Letter Recommending Stoddard for Apprenticeship

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The Contest

  STODDARD RAN HIS HAND ALONG the smooth wooden edge of the solo-craft Edmond had lent him. It was certainly not as impressive as the massive fleet ships moored beside it. A single compact furnace was anchored in the center of the vessel. By the looks of it, it had two flues that could simultaneously feed the rear propeller or heat the air in the semi-rigid balloon above. Beside that and some tethers to direct the rudders, however, there was only enough room for a single pilot and some weighted bags.

  Stoddard gripped the rigging and pulled himself inside, opening and closing the flues to be sure the furnace was in working order. True to Edmond’s word the engineering was sound; they slid open with ease. Next he tested the tethers on either side of the ship and extended two side flaps.

  “What do you think?” Edmond asked, clapping a hand on the side of the hull and leaning over the edge. “You think you can handle her?”

  “I’ll manage,” Stoddard replied coldly. He kept himself busy to discourage further conversation, leaping over the edge and collecting the fuel for the furnace from the dock. It was a potent fuel, porous and saturated in alchemical compounds. A single batch was enough to carry him the length of the Basin and back without too much trouble, or so he’d been told.

  He tossed two extra bricks into the bottom of the ship for good measure.

  “There’s still time to abandon this crazy stunt,” Edmond pointed out. “No one’s died in all the years I’ve been racing, but then I’ve never flown with amateurs either. I suppose there is a first time for everything.”

  Stoddard ignored him, loading a brick into the furnace.

  “Suit yourself,” Edmond shrugged. “But don’t for a moment think I’ll let you push me out of the way. I’ve earned my place here. And Emmaline will be mine.”

  When Stoddard still wouldn’t respond, Edmond spat on the ground as he walked away. Stoddard only looked up when Edmond had climbed into his own craft to prepare.

  Swallowing hard, Stoddard stoked the fire as he glanced toward Emmaline. She was sitting with her family in the booth, watching eagerly as the two of them readied for the race. Her father was watching them too and caught Stoddard’s eye for a moment.

  He wasn’t sure why, but Worthington looked genuinely pleased by his efforts. Did he really want Stoddard to win, or was he just using Stoddard as bait for Edmond? He couldn’t be sure.

  Turning back to the furnace, Stoddard made himself busy.

  “Here goes everything,” he told himself.

  When both furnaces were burning steadily and final checks had been made, the two ships were towed by a handful of men to the edge of the pier. Stoddard sat deep in his craft, gripping the rigging tightly with one hand to leave his other free to work the flues.

  A substantial gathering of gentlemen and ladies had formed along the booths as word spread of the young mechanist from Baroedge challenging Farley’s son. Stoddard could see by the expressions on their face it was more amusing to them than it was interesting. Nevertheless, regardless of how the opportunity had come along, this was it. This was Stoddard’s chance to distinguish himself.

  He only wished it was more on his terms.

  A man stepped up to the edge of the pier and turned toward the two vessels.

  “Pilots!” he shouted. “You will race to the edge of the sea wall and circle the lighthouse before returning here to the dock. First ship to touch down again will be declared the winner. Keep your nose up on your descent and stay out of the sky-lanes. We don’t need any accidents.”

  Edmond glanced in Stoddard’s direction, gesturing toward him. Stoddard looked away, ignoring him. He was having a hard enough time focusing as it was on what was coming.

  “Pilots, are you ready?”

  Edmond snapped a salute to the man, and Stoddard nodded reluctantly. His forehead was beading with sweat already. He wiped his brow and twisted his arm in the rigging even further.

  What had he gotten himself into?

  “On my signal then,” the man said. He raised his hands high into the air. Then, with a swift gesture, he shouted and the race began.

  The sound of Edmond’s furnace opening was audible as the flames were channeled through their respective flues. With ease his ship lifted lightly off the dock and tilted forward toward the edge as his propeller turned.

  Stoddard pulled back on the flue that fed his propeller and felt the ship lurch forward underneath him, the bottom grinding against the dock. Realizing his mistake, he scrambled to open the flue to his balloon, but it was too late. The ship ground against the dock, the whole craft tilting on its side as it caught on the edge.

  Edmond’s laughter could be heard as his ship drifted past, picking up speed as he juggled the flues and launched himself out into the sky. In fact, Stoddard was fairly certain he could hear laughter from the booths as well. He watched with jealous eyes as Edmond’s ship gained momentum as it drifted away.

  Stoddard clenched his teeth. This wasn’t how he’d wanted to start, and he wasn’t about to let it be his end.

  Just as men were coming forward to help him recover, Stoddard opened the flue to his propeller fully and the ship lurched again. The sound was unpleasant, and the ship tilted wide as its frame dragged against the dock. But, with Stoddard’s heart climbing into his throat, the propeller pushed it over the edge and his ship began its fall.

  Stoddard had to fight the urge to close his eyes as the wind whipped past his face with the swaying of the ship under its balloon. The feeling was unnerving, like his insides were floating around freely in his chest. He was afraid by the end of the race he’d be all tangled up. For a moment, all he could do was clutch the rigging and pray as he watched the cliffs race by in his peripheral vision.

  The ship rocked wildly as it fought to right itself in the fall and only after a long moment did Stoddard regain his senses enough to open the flue to the balloon again. The ship fell fast, but as the air inside the balloon began to heat he felt his descent slowing.

  He could see Edmond’s ship on a similar course, cruising visibly steadier as it maintained an even descent across the Basin. Stoddard pulled on the tethers and steered his craft away from the cliffs and out over the water. With the maneuver he got a better feel for how the craft moved and it dawned on him that the first part of the race was less about flight than it was gliding. Shutting the flue again he angled the rudders downward and the ship tilted toward the water.

  He was well beneath Edmond’s ship and only a little behind. As he strained against the tethers to keep the ship pointed downward he smiled as he realized his advantage. With his somewhat reckless descent, he’d reach the Basin first.

  As the two crafts came in closer to the water Edmond’s flue opened and his ship slowed as it leveled out. Stoddard mimicked the tactic, shifting the rudder to slow his descent even more. But he’d misjudged. He was significantly closer to the water than Edmond and approaching quickly. In desperation he killed the propellers and diverted as much heat fro
m the furnace into the balloon as he could.

  The ship lurched as it came uncomfortably close to the water and Stoddard strained against the ropes as he kept the tethers tight. Finally, with a final shudder and a sigh of relief from Stoddard, the ship leveled out just over a dozen feet above the surface.

  He’d managed the fall.

  Inverting the flues, Stoddard’s ship lurched forward again as the propeller drove him forward across the bay. He craned his head around to check again for Edmond and saw him still coming in slow a few lengths behind him. He’d done it! He’d slipped into the lead. Stoddard couldn’t hold in a laugh as he drove his ship forward.

  Perhaps he wasn’t as graceful as a gentleman, but he was a fast learner.

  The two ships raced forward, easily avoiding the ships on the bay as they aimed for the lighthouse on the tip of the seawall. Stoddard kept his furnace powering the propeller, starving the balloon as much as he dared to maintain his lead over Edmond.

  When Stoddard reached the seawall Edmond had managed to close the gap again. He was only a single length behind and gaining steadily. Stoddard readied himself as the lighthouse approached, even daring to untangle himself from the rigging so he could use both arms to manage the rudders.

  Coming abreast the lighthouse he swung his ship hard to the right. His angle was wide, but he held her steady as the ship banked clockwise. He could feel the center of force pulling at him, but it excited him now. He was doing it! Against all odds and expectations, he was doing it. This wasn’t just a spectacle. This was a race!

  Edmond’s ship kept right on his tail. Pulling in tighter to the turn, he came abreast of Stoddard’s ship, pressing up against him as they fought to maintain their rotation. Stoddard clenched his tethers and strained to keep his ship steady. But Edmond saw his advantage and released his own so that his ship swung wide suddenly and pushed up against Stoddard’s craft.

  Stoddard flinched, relaxing his rudder to as he tried to avoid a collision. Edmond’s ship acted like a wall and Stoddard felt himself losing momentum. They were nearly touching as they came out of the turn, this time with Edmond at a high angle just ahead of him.