Of Steel and Steam: A Limited Edition Anthology

by Pauline Creeden

  “That’s Mr. Smythe?” The young man said. “My apologizes. If I’d known…”

  “It’s perfectly all right. This visit is a surprise. I’m sure.”

  “That it is.” Questions swirled in Leo’s eyes, ones that he dare not ask in front of his students. His gaze lingered on her for a moment. “You’re well.”

  “Fully recovered. I’m sorry my illness interrupted our studies. That’s why I’m here. What you sent was amazing, and I had to see it in person.”

  “Well, then.” He pulled out a chair, and if any of his students thought it odd, they said nothing.

  Hattie sat.

  “Let us demonstrate. Gentleman to your stations!”

  Four young men bustled around the table, one by the familiar telegraph machine, from which she saw a wire led to a large quartz crystal. Across the room, much further than she’d even tried, sat a second crystal and what looked like a receiving telegraph machine.

  “Ready.” Leo said.

  The room quieted to the point where a pin dropping could be heard. Hattie held her breath.

  “Commence testing.”

  The young man at the telegraph began tapping out a series of words, an entire message, she quickly discovered. The sensation of magic raised the hairs on her arms, and she resisted the urge to gasp when she witnessed the receiving telegraph machine tap out the message with no wires connecting the two.

  “How?” she whispered.

  “Why don’t I tell you over dinner?” He asked, and she accepted.

  Chapter 6

  Dinner comprised food brought from the dining hall to his rooms in another hall that housed just the professors. Leo’s rooms boasted something closer to what she had with a seating room, a private water closet, and a bedroom. The seating room was big enough for guests and had a table around which they could eat or discuss theories. She sat down, dreading the time when he asked about her gender. He didn’t. Instead, a woman from the kitchen brought two dinners of slices of roast beef and vegetables along with crusty bread for them to eat, the fare much better than the stews she often relegated herself to at home.

  They didn’t talk much during the meal since both were famished. When the plates were empty, and Leo set them on a tray just outside the door to be picked up, he returned to the table. “I’m glad to see you’re well,” he said. “I hated that I had to come back to Britain, but classes were starting again.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad to be well.” She thought for a moment about bringing up the question hovering between them. Instead, she turned to safer topics. “I’m excited to see what you’ve done with the experiments. I’ve poured over your notes you sent. Amazing stuff. Can you tell me more?”

  He could and they spent much of the evening discussing the experiments and the work his students had done. Reluctantly, he ended the conversation saying that the doors locked at nine, and if she didn’t return to her room soon she’d be locked out of the building. She agreed, though she wished she could have stayed there and conversed longer. He gave her his schedule and then paused at the door.

  “I’d offer to walk you back to your room, but that’s unnecessary as you’re dressed now. Do be careful though.” He dipped his head, then stepped aside so she could exit.

  “I will,” she breathed, then hurried to get back to her room in a timely fashion.

  Nothing kept her in St. Louis. She decided the next day other than her father’s ties to the telegraphers and the railroad. She’d miss Alva. And yet, the London Academy seemed to have no end to scholars. Between the students and the professors, even Henry Smythe would find it difficult to get a job there, at least one that wasn’t an assistant or typist position. She wanted more. She longed for the classroom that Leo had, a lab to work in with students. He’d written a few scholarly papers, though mentioned he hadn’t sent them off for publication without her review and Henry’s byline. The last thing he wanted was to be seen as profiting from her work, and she appreciated his candor.

  She also appreciated his company. Until his visit, she hadn’t quite realized just how lonely she was. Alva kept to herself, as was appropriate, taking care of the household duties and dinner, though he hardly kept her busy. He paid well enough that she could care for her ailing husband, and tend to him as necessary. She planned to be gone a fortnight. Any longer and she risked being on board ship when her courses came. Some things one just couldn’t keep completely hidden.

  She reached the safety of her room and locked the door. Then and only then, did she change into her nightshirt, though she kept her chest bound. What must he have seen while she’d been ill? She tried not to think about it; the impropriety had to have been shocking. And except for the one slip, which could have been considered a more familiar nickname, he’d shown no sign that he was aware of her dual identities in public. In private, his offer to walk her to her room told Hattie unequivocally that he knew and that thankfully he planned to keep it a secret.

  Another day of experiments brought the addition of voice. Still, it required someone to focus magic, but magic was intent the blond young man said. They’d learned that in their first-year classes at the academy. Hattie remembered, the boys had far more in-depth introductory classes even at a young age, than the girls had. Her father, worrying that her secret would get out, pulled her from classes claiming she was ill. Someday, she vowed, both genders would receive the same training.

  She listened to them, nodding as if she understood the concepts and that they weren’t new and exciting to her. They sent one young man outside with the crystal and the ear trumpet—she guessed others had done far sillier experiments in the name of science. When he was well outside, a student went to the first crystal, now equipped with its own ear trumpet, and sent the message. “Turnips for dinner.”

  The experiment hall fell silent and everyone stared at the door. Had the message gotten through? Had the other young man caught the message? He ran in and stopped. “Turnips for dinner again. That’s twice this week.”

  A cheer rose among the students. Leo quickly quieted them and asked the young men to explain it in scientific terms. When they finished, and Leo had them all put notes in their books about it, he pointed to her. “Gentlemen, the ear trumpet idea belongs to Mr. Smythe, here. He demonstrated it for me in America.”

  Instead of being just a mere observer, he became a subject of celebration, with even the blond young man telling her it was a wicked smart idea. On that success, Leo dismissed them for the day and once again invited her back to his room for dinner.

  “I have extra copies of the textbooks that my students were referring to this afternoon. I could make sure that a full set was sent to you,” Leo said after their dinner, roast hens this time, arrived.

  “Would you?” She confessed that she hadn’t attended many years of the academy.

  “It must be difficult,” he said at last.

  “What must be?” Not that she wanted him to speak out loud that he knew her secret, but hearing it might ease some tension between them. The closer they came to achieving her goal of communication without wires, the nearer the time that they would go their separate ways would be. And she found she rather enjoyed working with him.

  “Being here when you haven’t completed many years of education. You’re not alone. There are many young boys ill in their early years and miss out on valuable education. Some of them catch up and be rather good scholars. Like you.” That he spoke as if her gender were still male bothered Hattie. Still, perhaps keeping the mask on a little longer would serve its purpose.

  “Yes,” she replied. “Thank you for understanding.” If her words held greater meaning, she just hoped that he picked up on it. Conversation stilled as they finished dinner.

  “I am thinking of making another trip to the states this fall. There are a few professors at Melody that I’d like to meet and pursue scientific discourse with. Edward has made plans to visit this weekend. I think he’s eager to meet you.”

  “That would be ver
y nice.”

  “I’ve met no one like you,” he said before whisking away their plates and putting it on the tray outside the door. “Most people called my work mad. I did not understand until Edward introduced us that it was being replicated in the states. I suspect there’s a lot of work that others are doing which we don’t know about. If nothing else, this new magical communications device should facilitate the exchange of ideas. I’m going to have some of my other students test it tomorrow, ones that I know aren’t as strong magically. My concern is that if someone’s magic isn’t strong enough, then they won’t be able to talk very far. That seems like a limitation that science should be able to overcome.”

  “I agree.” Hattie paused. “So how do you think it can?”

  He smiled. “I’d hope that you would help figure that part out.”

  The next day, Leo divided his students into two teams. Then, he sent one team outside, telling them to go to the statue in the center of the courtyard with their crystal and ear trumpet. Each one of them was supposed to listen until they heard something. And if they heard nothing after ten minutes, the student who previously completed the exercise was to come in and say so. The other team remained in the classroom. Then, he lined them up at the table in the center of the classroom.

  The message was simple. “Give the items to the next student in line.” The young men outside had to reply with “I hear you.” The first three boys went through the line without issue. The fourth, however, gave his message three times, and then without hearing a reply, professed he didn’t think he was getting through.

  “Go stand by Mr. Smythe, please.”

  As if on cue, one of the young men came inside and said that the student behind him had heard nothing.

  Hattie watched, realizing with a sinking feeling that there was a flaw in her plan. She’d been excited as the line had moved; it meant messages were being sent and received—far more than she’d ever showed on her own. The line continued again with only two young men unable to send the messages. The teams switched positions, and only one young man could not send messages.

  “Why don’t you work with Mr. Smythe,” Leo suggested. “We’ll start with across the hall, in the opposite corners if you will. Mr. Smythe can show you how to form the send intent.”

  She drew the young men to her and spoke to them about the ecfreno spell and their eyes lit up.

  “What about mitto?” One student asked.

  “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that spell.”

  The boys exchanged looks. “Do they not teach you the basic spells? Or are things that different in America?”

  Realising that she could be in trouble and possibly reveal her situation, she shrugged. “Possibly. I also work alone. Maybe I forgot.”

  They seemed to accept that and discussed the spell which was a very specific directional spell for sending. It sounded far more focused, and requiring less energy than the ecfreno, which seemed to be a last ditch radiating type of spell, such as when her father tried to stave off the oncoming storm. Leo came over to discuss it with them, and he agreed that it may be a better way to focus the energy, rather than having magic be there, but in an inert state. “Shall we try it?” he asked. “Why don’t you divide back into your teams and we’ll repeat the experiment while the weather’s good.”

  He ushered the one group of young men outside and sent the other to the telegraph machine. He leaned over and whispered to her, “I’ll make sure you get those books. Sounds like you missed out on a lot of basic curriculum.”

  “I guess so,” and as the experiments started once more, Hattie fought to feel as if she ought to turn her research over to Leo and his students. They seemed far better equipped for it. Except the idea was hers, and she refused to let go of it completely.

  Chapter 7

  In the fortnight she’d stayed in London, she’d watched as her initial idea grew into speaking across the campus to speaking from one part of London to another. The spells still relied on the strength of the mage. Making it universal seemed like a far stretch, as did talking across the Atlantic. She ate dinner with Leo nearly every night unless he was having faculty dinners. The time passed too quickly. She stared at the room, her bag packed up with the addition of two books for her to read on the ship back to America.

  “You’ll keep me updated?” she said before she’d left his rooms for the last time. “I want to know what happens, and I’ll keep working. See if maybe there is a different spell that would send the messages with even more accuracy.” Once they got into the city, the problem of messages going awry started happening more and more, presumably because of magical interference, even from those who weren’t aware they had the powers.

  “I will. I’ll keep meticulous notes and send those to you at least once a month. I hope to get back to America at the end of this term, maybe the next. It depends on my salary and what classes I’m scheduled to teach.”

  “I understand.”

  The conversation replayed in her mind as she stood on the dock, awaiting the ship. She embarked, stowing her bag in her cabin and remaining there while the ship pulled away from the shore. She couldn’t bear to watch the British Isles fade beneath the horizon and all too soon that’d happen. Working with Leo had only deepened the bond she felt with him, though she feared it might be one way. He’d done nothing except treat her like an esteemed college, which was what she wanted. Except, now, she didn’t. She longed for more.

  Since she’d hardly slept the night before, she settled down in the small bed on the straw-filled mattress and enough, fell asleep. She awakened to the dinner bell, shocked to realize she’d nearly slept the day away. She gathered with the other passengers in the mess, taking her plate of thick congealed beef salted with root vegetables in some kind of watery broth. Not exactly the most appetizing of meals, but it’d keep her fed until she returned home.

  The voyage passed almost in tedium. Ten days at sea, listening to those who didn’t quite have the stamina get sick over the railings. The stench of unwashed bodies grew, keeping her cloistered in her room reading the books Leo had given her by the light that filtered through the wavy glass. At least she had something with which to occupy her time. She emerged only to use the water closet or to eat dinner, snatching hard rolls from dinner to bring back and gnaw on during the day.

  Six days into the journey, the seas grew rough. The captain confined them all their cabins for the duration of the storm. The ship tossed one direction than the other. Hattie clung to her bunk, her stomach unhappy at the jostling movements. At the start of the eighth day, the storm subsided and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Passengers were let out of their cabins and finally had a communal meal. Discussion of the storm and the horridness of it dominated the topic, though thankfully Hattie kept her head down and avoided all conversation. She counted the hours until her feet were on solid ground again, and when they disembarked at New York, she was thankful to be back home again.

  She took the train back to St. Louis, arriving to greet a much-relieved Alva that she’d travelled safely and back. Except, her small home, so comfortable and perfect for her seemed quiet without the bustle of students outside the door and the academic discussions she heard through the wall. The foot traffic of workers seemed too rough, too loud, as if they couldn’t possibly comprehend the things she was doing, the goals she was trying to reach. Not for the first time, she wished for her father to still be with her. He encouraged her experiments. He’d be amazed at what Leo and his students would have been able to do.

  Except, he wasn’t and Alva didn’t mind hearing about her work, though she admitted that she didn’t understand it. And that night, when Hattie ate dinner of the last of her bread and cheese, she ran her fingers over the tin of English biscuits and thought perhaps, maybe, she ought to have stayed in Britain. She debated about writing a letter to her advisor, but fell asleep in her chair, the books Leo had given her on her lap.

  She awakened to the acrid smell of smoke and immedia
tely glanced at her stove and fireplace. Both appeared fine in the dim light from the lamp, but the stench grew stronger with every passing moment. Outside cries of “fire” filled the air, and when she went to her bedroom to change into her clothes from her nightdress the room became unbearably hot. Her heart pounded. No. This couldn’t be happening. The buildings all shared walls, and the fear of fire had always remained ever present in her mind. She’d seen what an unattended fire had done to another part of town, an entire family perishing when their building collapsed atop them. The very idea had her dressing, binding quickly to pass, though in the throng of people no doubt outside, she doubted it’d matter. She hurried into the living room, the smoke now making it hard to see. Her books. Her equipment. She longed to save it all and yet knew the folly of trying to do so.

  Every instinct told her to get out of there, to save herself from the fire. And yet, she hurried across the room to grab Leo’s journals. To lose that piece of him now seemed so cruel.

  The crash of beams breaking overhead rattled the ceiling. Dust and ashes dropped down on her. She hurried to the front door. Too late now to save her precious British telegraph, her quartz crystals, or any of it.

  She dashed back to grab the books Leo had sent overseas with her. Getting another copy from the Musimagium wouldn’t be an issue, and yet—

  The entire building shuddered.

  Another crash, this time with the whoosh of fire as the entire west wing of the building toppled over in a pile of rubble and flames.

  It was too late.

  She stepped toward the door, ducking her head as if to run as fast as she could. Another shudder and her home fell around her. Pieces of wood hit her head and shoulders, knocking her to her feet. She struggled to rise again. The weight of the books pulled her forward. She stumbled, releasing them to brace one hand on the ground. Another groan and the building released its hold, gravity taking over. The rubble bore Hattie to the ground.