The Time Mechanic

by Victoria Bastedo

  Chapter Eighteen (In Which Jeremy Needs to Locate Instead of Hide)

  Late the next afternoon Mars looked up as a new customer entered his shop. His smile faltered and then picked up again. It was Jeremy’s Uncle Tov; the man made a few pleasantries with Mars’ assistant Joram and then asked if he could talk to the boss. Mars watched him approach.

  Tov had a similar look to Jeremy. They were both tall, with the same physique. They were serious and kind by nature. Mars frowned to himself but made ready to receive his guest.

  “Ah, Mars,” said Tov as he stood before him a moment later. “How fine you look. Your shop does very well by all accounts.”

  “Thank you, sir,” he said. “Yes, we’re doing all right.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it. But I was wondering, since it doesn’t appear too busy in here at the moment, if I could have a word with you?”

  “Certainly. You’re always welcome, Uncle Tov,” Mars said, showing him towards his office with a bow. Tov grinned. Mars had visited the man’s house so often when he and Jeremy were teenagers it was like they were related. They went into the office and Mars shut the door.

  His shop wasn’t as large as Nemeth’s but still it was wide and comfortable. He found a good seat for Tov and sat behind his desk.

  “It’s been too long since we’ve seen one another,” Mars offered.

  “True, but I was under the impression that you and Jeremy had a falling out some time ago.”

  Mars stiffened a bit.

  “Not by my choice, sir.”

  “Jeremy would never speak of what caused the rift between you, but then, that’s his way.”

  Mars held back an angry retort.

  “What can I do for you today, sir? I hope all is well on your side of things.”

  “All was well yesterday. But today I… you see that’s why I’ve come here. I received this letter from Jeremy by special messenger. It’s concerned me.”

  Mars leaned over and took the letter from the man’s hand. He opened it and grimaced. How like Jeremy to tell the man so little as this— set him to worrying, and then leave. He sighed.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know what he’s doing now or where he’s off to.”

  He pondered whether he should tell Tov all that he knew. But he didn’t want to be the one that destroyed Jeremy’s good standing or wounded his uncle.

  “It’s just that, well, I can tell something’s wrong by the way this letter is worded,” Tov went on.

  “Hmmm.”

  “I’ve seen this behavior before, you see. Jeremy always reacts to pain by removing himself emotionally from his closest relationships. When he was a teenager and got hurt he didn’t say one word to me for weeks, even ‘Good morning’. First he was a silent lad after he lost his parents. I remember the day, some months later that he finally came in with you whistling and laughing at something you said. He greeted me as naturally in loud laughter as he’d been too quiet before. I felt privileged that he felt so safe in the home I’d provided him. But then it happened again; I’m sure you know the time period I’m referring to; when he was attacked and left for dead. Again he was as silent as a tomb until I feared he’d never come out of his shell. I tried to get him to talk with no success. I was worried but he did his chores and was respectful. In time he did come back to me, and he apologized.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you? I believe he’ll say sorry to you as well, Mars, eventually. He’s that sort. His inner sense of justice will drive him to it; if he’s been unfair to you especially.”

  “Maybe I’m not looking for a mere apology,” Mars couldn’t help but say.

  “Oh, well I…” Tov studied him and must’ve seen the stiff expression on his face. “Perhaps you’re not,” he agreed at last. “There’s something I’ve clung to this past year or so since his fiancé broke things off between them, something I was wishing for, concerning you.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “I had hopes that, even though you and Jeremy weren’t being active friends, that you were somehow still keeping an eye out for him.”

  “Jeremy doesn’t need me to watch out for him,” Mars protested.

  “He’s overly smart, I agree, but although he keeps secrets he doesn’t seem to know how to deal with them,” Tov said and then he sighed. He stood up and held out his hand. “I guess I shouldn’t take up more of your time,” he smiled. “You say you don’t know what’s next for Jeremy and I believe you. Perhaps my nephew just wants to take a trip and see the world like he says. It’s my place as his uncle to be concerned is all, and I hope you understand why I came and bothered you.”

  “I understand and you’ll never bother me.”

  “I’m just wondering what’s happened,” Tov repeated, even though his hand was on the door to leave. “I went to the manse and his room was completely empty. His landlord said that Jeremy packed up everything and left— after sending them a very generous amount to cover their expenses. This utter and sudden withdrawal on his part leaves me with only one question. What hurt Jeremy this time?”

  After Tov left, Mars sat frowning at the door. He wondered what the man would’ve said if Mars had admitted the truth? If he’d told him exactly what had gone on between he and Jeremy the last time he’d seen him.

  Mars closed his shop early and hurried to go and see for himself if what Uncle Tov said was true. With his long stride he covered the mile and was at Jeremy’s door in a short while. The door was unlocked but he could tell before entering the room that it was barren and empty. Back outside he saw a wad of paper crumpled up at the edge of the lane. He retrieved it and read Jeremy’s notice. Somehow he knew that Tov would not have crinkled the note like this, for it was also half torn. Therefore, it was obvious that someone else had come here; a person had come looking for Jeremy and was enraged that this note was the only thing left of him here to be found.

  The full problem occurred to Mars at last. Whether or not he believed in Jeremy when he said that he was the Time Mechanic, an unknown assailant had considered him enough of a threat to try and murder him the other day. Now that person was still looking for him. If he found him there was no ‘friend’ left for Jeremy to turn to. He would be facing that enemy alone.

  ***

  Jeremy slept far later than he intended. Even though the inn was in a noisy neighborhood compared to the quiet of the Manse he slept as if exhausted. When the noon bell woke him up he merely opened groggy eyes and found the need to remain in bed for another hour. When finally sleep let go he feared the shops in the marketplace were about to close. He sat up and stared out the small window at the late afternoon sun.

  After all what difference did it make in the end? He had no job to get to, no family that he lived with who expected things of him and no chores to be done. Unless, of course, he considered the huge task of saving the world that awaited him.

  He found the water closet down the hall and relieved himself and washed up. He pulled on his boots to go down out the Inn door across to the tavern to request a meal. Trampling back up to his room once the order was placed he remembered something important.

  He’d never bothered to look into the bag that he’d pilfered from the rooftop the evening before. The bag itself had belonged to Kannikey and he’d taken it from her. But the contents of the bag… he frowned.

  Those contents were tainted. Because of that mission he’d lost his assistants and Mars. He pushed the thought away. He felt an overwhelming urge to toss the bag in the nearest burn pile, collect up the last of his possessions, put a torch to those two fields and run off into the night without even looking to see if he’d burned down all of Tonturin’s farmland.

  But instead he snatched at the bag and took it with him down into the tavern. Inside the building huge beams hung low from the ceiling, the wide wooden-plank floors were stained a dark reddish-brown, there was wood paneling on all the walls, and of course the bar counter and all the tables and chairs were wooden also. It was dark and warm a
nd he knew he’d be free from discovery when he opened the bag here.

  At least the place seemed clean enough and the huge chandeliers were already lit. Nevertheless he sat in the farthest corner away from the bar. It was early yet for any revelers to arrive. There weren’t any other customers in the bar yet except for a few determined drinkers and a man at a table near the counter writing in some ledgers. Jeremy nodded at the waitress to indicate where she should bring him his dinner and settled at his table with a sigh. He reached in his hand with reluctance, afraid after all, that the bag was full of money.

  But it wasn’t money that he came up with. There was a leather-bound notebook, a packet of carriage schedules, and a roll of papers, bound with a ribbon. He opened these and placed the other things back in the bag.

  He didn’t immediately recognize what the roll of papers pertained to. There was sheet after sheet of diagrams, measurements, mathematical notations, all done in straight and exacting pictures and lines. There was the complicated design of a steam engine and the storage to combust the heat required to transform the water. One page seemed to denote how to construct wings. Another how to build a compact torso with a storage section in the belly and there were legs that came down and held the torso up.

  It was an odd structure he could tell, both steam-driven and also with a balloon top to be filled with a gas that would cause the original lift it required to hover in the sky until it achieved flight. On the last page he finally realized what this strange design might build. He saw a title underlined in blue. It said ‘steam diffuser.’

  His dinner came while he was studying the papers and he rolled them in a hurry and held them under the table so the waitress couldn’t see what he was looking at. By the time he’d finished eating he was no closer to understanding the design and what exactly it was meant to accomplish. It must be important for Serrin and the white-haired thug had been discussing it. He ate the final bite of stew and rolled up the papers again, retying the ribbon around them. Then he turned to the small leather-bound notebook to look for more clues.

  Inside the notebook were names and dates, written out like appointments that must be kept. Every now and then there was a notation included. One such note said this: ‘Meet with QL at 11pm next Tuesday Fortnight. Discuss the disappearance of page 14 in the designs.’

  Jeremy put the notebook down and released the roll of designs from the ribbon again. At the bottom right corner of each sheet the pages were numbered. He realized that yes indeed, page fourteen was missing.

  He pawed through the notebook some more and was able to discern another clue.

  ‘Inform QL through messenger that diffuser won’t work without the missing design. The head of the beast is the tiller that directs the flight.’

  Ah, he thought, pawing through the designs again. The shape of the construction did resemble a beast. The length, the feet, and the thick torso; but the head was missing.

  Last he discovered one more clue. ‘Thursday next: inform QL that designer has in fact left Tetoross and is hiding in Tonturin. Contraptions sold in the marketplace are similar in design. A stray design page was discovered— after comparison there is no doubt.’

  Jeremy nodded as he gulped a large swallow of ale and then, turning the pages in the leather notebook until he found another wordy notation, he nearly choked and spewed his drink all over the table. After a large coughing fit he was able to wipe his eyes and read again the clue that had so shocked him. The note said:

  ‘Nearly certain that designer has been located. The inferior designs that we’ve developed to replace the superior ones may be put aside. Inform QL that soon we will be able to forcefully detain and question Fillipi; this plan will move forward tomorrow.’

  His heart started pounding in his chest. The date of the last notation alarmed him most of all. The notation had been written into the notebook just a few days before. He scrambled to his feet so fast that not only did he knock over his chair but he nearly upset the table he was sitting at as well. The waitress hurried over with a rag and a scowl on her face to wipe up the spilled drink.

  “Forgive me,” he gasped, stuffing the bag full of its contents. “I’ll pay now, if you don’t mind.”

  “In a hurry, I see,” the woman said in a dry tone.

  “Yes, in a huge hurry, I’m sorry!”

  “All right, sir. I’ll meet you at the counter.”

  “No need,” he said, plunking several more coins than necessary on the table. “Keep the change for your trouble,” he added. He rushed out past her smile, dashed up the stairs to his room, threw on his coat, and shoved everything remaining to him into his pack. He paid the Innkeeper as hurriedly as he’d paid the waitress. He was back out onto the road saddling his horse in less than ten minutes from the time he’d read the final clue.

  Fillipi was the designer; Fillipi who used to live in Tetoross but had moved here to Tonturin some time ago; away from her family, and away from the dangerous people who’d apparently stolen her designs. The little brilliant designer had felt the need to disguise herself as the opposite sex and live in a shack so she could be safe. The only trouble was; she’d taken the head of the beast with her. She’d taken the steam diffuser’s head, to be exact.

  She was about to be discovered and questioned, and he knew from personal experience what that was like. Little Ffip wouldn’t stand up to such mistreatment very well! The terrible thought lent him speed. In seconds he was cantering full tilt down the road.

  Chapter Nineteen (In Which Jeremy Loses his Breath Twice)

  He galloped up to Ffip’s shack and swung off his horse. The creature skittered away and he had to capture it before he could tie the reins to the rickety fence. But already he was disturbed by what he saw. Her door was open and a stray piece of clothing lay discarded on the step. He pulled the door open and glanced inside the small space.

  It didn’t take a very long look to see that the place was empty of people and also that every item she owned had been ripped down, torn open or tossed aside. The little contraptions that she’d sold in the marketplace; these were the only tidy thing left, for they were spread out in a line and then crushed.

  He backed out of the space and stood breathing hard. He willed his mind to work. Whoever had ransacked her place had taken a lot of time about it. If they’d had her in hand they wouldn’t have bothered being so thorough, surely? They’d have tossed a few things about and then returned to questioning her. There were two possibilities he could think of, either there was hope; she’d gotten away or hadn’t come home when they’d searched. Or the second possibility, they’d questioned her and, since she’d refused to tell them what they wanted, they’d come back here frustrated. The first option meant he had better go find her right way before they did, and the second meant that…

  He pushed away the thought that they might’ve hurt her beyond reckoning or worse. He got up on his horse and rode, without compunction, straight to Mars’ house. It was getting dark now and the man would’ve closed his shop. He got down, tied his horse to the railing, leapt up the steps, tossed his pack onto the porch and started pounding on the door.

  “Mars!” he yelled. Pound, pound, pound. “Open up, it’s important!

  The door flew open and he fell forward a bit, mid-pound. He looked up and Mars was glaring at him like he’d never seen him do before. Jeremy decided his attitude was too much to bear. It made him angry and he shoved the fellow with all his might. Mars fell back for a mere second before he returned the aggression. Jeremy found himself on the floor.

  Rule number four for Time Mechanics was that he couldn’t use any new skills given him for his own gain.

  He didn’t care. He wanted to punch the man; more, he wanted to shred him. His eyes narrowed and he saw an opening and vaulted to his feet. He put a lot of force into that uppercut. Mars landed two feet into his front room and splintered a flimsy looking bench he had there. Jeremy rushed to stand over him.

  “Listen, you stack of…” he started
yelling before his feet were swept out from under him and he landed next to Mars a second later.

  “No, you listen!” Mars roared.

  Jeremy was up so fast he surprised himself but Mars rolled away from his swinging arms and gained his feet too. An elbow into Mars’ ribs, a backhand that struck the man across his lower jaw and then came the consequence. Mars kicked him high. His boot put a dusty mark on the chest of his shirt. He flew back again and hit the back of the man’s settee. He slithered across the piece of furniture and met the floor with a loud whump against his shoulder blades.

  His breath was knocked out of his body. Mars was on him before he had a chance to refill his lungs. He was grabbed up to his feet by his lapels, rammed against the pillar in the middle of the room, and then Mars went for his throat.

  Sanity hadn’t returned for either one of them yet, and Jeremy wished he could go on fighting now. But a sudden recollection of Ffip, her delicate features in direct contrast to the angry bear’s face that was strangling him, made his eyes pop wide open.

  Green eyes stared into gray-blue ones. He clutched Mars’ wrist and tried to speak. When air was still not allowed to him he shook the man with more determination. Mars growled in frustration.

  “Oh, fine then, what is it?” he demanded, loosening his grip a half an inch.

  “I still can’t breathe, you hulking bulk of stupidity!” Jeremy choked out from a dry windpipe.

  He could see Mars make the effort. The man released him and stepped back. Jeremy was tempted to strike in his moment of weakness except for the fact that he couldn’t seem to keep his feet. He dropped to his hands and knees and coughed in the first gasp and sucked in the next. In a few seconds he was able to sit on the floor and lean against the pillar.

  When he opened his eyes Mars had pulled a chair over and was sitting in front of him.