The Gadgeteer Box Set

by Gin Hollan

  "There’s no way through those trees for a wagon," Mabel said, sticking her head out the canvas of the back flap.

  "Ah, there's the girl I’ve been looking for," the woman said, sliding off her steel grey mount and leaving it standing where it was. Arabeth looked closer. A series of small, overlapping brushed steel panels made up its exterior, she realized. It was disguised to look like a horse in barding. The breathing motion could be attributed to the internal machinery, Arabeth surmised.

  "Yes, it's fabricated. Sebastian said you've never seen an automated horse." The woman smiled, seeming pleased that her interest was piqued. "Rare ... and expensive, but he thought it was worth the risk of public knowledge to get your attention." She walked over and looked inside the wagon a moment before turning back to the others. “He likes showing off his toys, to the right audience.”

  "Fascinating mechanics, I’m sure," Graham said, stepping a little closer.

  Arabeth was intrigued, but inexplicably offended—that was supposed to replace a real horse? Why bother? Was it about pride, or the challenge of the invention? Truly, it missed the point of having a horse. Although … how it was powered would be worth knowing.

  "Let's get you all over to the keep. Sebastian and the others are keen to meet you," the woman continued.

  Arabeth looked at the others. Sam shrugged but Graham nodded, eyes glued to the mechanized horse.

  "You've mentioned Sebastian three times now. Who is he and what is his interest in us?" Sam asked.

  "Oh, right. You’re not from Vensay. He's the largest landowner in the area, a minor lord of this country, but more than that, he's an inventor. That should intrigue half of you. I'm here because he wants to talk with Heather and her daughter before you take them farther on, but most importantly, he wants you to stop shooting her. Graham…." She looked until she found him. "He has a way for you to get home, and ... what else did he say?" She trailed off into thought, tapping the tips of her fingers one by one on her thumb. "I should have written it down. Oh, well. You can find out when we get back."

  How did this man—and therefore, this woman—know their names and what they'd been doing? While the mechanized horse felt pointless, this felt invasive. “I would say yes, but we need to go to Owen—without delays,” she said, leaning down to pull her boot back on, wincing, and pulling it back off.

  "This is better than going to Owen,” Mabel said. "We should go."

  "The castle isn’t far. You can't see the path from here, but there's a turn coming up," the woman said. She looked at Arabeth, standing with one boot in her hand. "And I think you'd be wise to come with me, for medical reasons."

  "You need medical attention,” Sam leaned in to whisper. “Considering our circumstances, this may be wise."

  Arabeth sighed, looking ahead down the dry, dusty road. She wanted to trust the woman, but why did the people over here never introduce themselves? She sighed.

  “You know our names, but what do people call you?” Arabeth grimaced at the awkward phrasing.

  "I am Grace Eleanor Kinzy. We can talk about me later, if it becomes relevant. For now, let's get this procession started. I’d recommend you sit in the wagon, but I suspect there’s no room. Try the Equestride.”

  At first she wasn’t certain she’d heard right. “You want me to….”

  “Ride the mechanical horse, yes.”

  Suddenly her hands felt damp and she couldn’t move.

  With a smirk, Grace led the Equestride over, positioning it so that Arabeth could lift a foot into the stirrup and mount.

  Arabeth wiped her hands on her pant legs and looked for Marble. She’d stay out from the machine’s feet, right?

  Grace cleared her throat. “You do ride….” she said, her tone goading Arabeth to climb up.

  “All right, all right,” Arabeth said, putting one hand where the mane would be at the top of the saddle and mounting. “Why are there are no reins?”

  “It follows body cues. Reins are a good communication tool for precision riding, but not needed for this beast.”

  Without Arabeth walking slowly, they made good time getting to the castle. Arabeth could feel her priorities shifting as she rode the strange metal horse. Its motion was smooth. She played a bit with altering its course, surprised at its responsiveness.

  “Impressive—it navigates at the slightest shift in the saddle.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re won over,” Sam smiled.

  “Not as a replacement for Kate, but for the non-rider, this would be an adequate substitute. It has no independent thought.”

  What wonders had they missed, being isolated behind that mountain? A creeping thought worked its way in as she rode. What if she found and brought their attacker to justice … then stayed awhile?

  As the castle came into sight, she noted how tightly it was set among the trees. There was barely a walking path along two sides, with the road up wide enough only to ensure you knew it was a castle. Or was this more of a keep? She'd never seen either, except in pictures.

  Somehow, this one wasn't quite as grand as she’d thought it would be. It was ... small. Well, smallish, she conceded. The grey stone structure did stand on a slight rise, like a man with a shoe insert to make him seem taller. It was taller than it was wide, as well, four storeys high, with parapets, slit windows, and a broad moat.

  None of those were noteworthy features, she decided. It was the three-stack chimney rising twice the height of the castle that made her pause. No furnace that would fit that space needed three chimneys.

  Right now, only two of them had smoke coming out. The new information and its potential benefit to the people back home was starting to make this trip look like it was providence, not purgatory. If the mechanical horse hadn't made her mind up, this just might.

  As they neared the entrance, Grace turned and held her hands up to stop them. Arabeth dismounted slowly, trying not to aggravate her heel, and followed her yelp with a smile. "I'm fine."

  "I should let you know, Sebastian is more than a little different. His transition was … complicated. Let me assure you, though—he is as brilliant and as kind a human as you will ever meet, once you get past the roughness of its presentment. You will want to stare and he will be polite enough to ignore it. As a favour to me as your guide, I would appreciate it if you didn't stare, or stop when you catch yourself. Here, you will find food and shelter, and—if an agreement can be reached—some will be offered employment."

  Grace turned around and pulled a long rope that hung down beside the door. A large bell rang from overhead.

  The tall gate opened outward from the middle, as two narrow doors. Inside lay open, as something of a courtyard, but it was littered with metal bits and pieces, as well as random stacks of crates. Creative minds benefited from routine, but this sort of chaos was probably a part of Sebastian’s method. It was either that, or a large animal had run amok for several days in a row.

  "Welcome, my friends. Come in and find your ease." A tall, thickly built man with an unusually graceful gait walked towards them, arms out and smiling. "I am excited to meet other creatives. We are a rare breed—one that many consider extinct or irrelevant."

  Arabeth couldn't help staring, even after Grace's request. Not because he was deformed in anyway. Quite the contrary. The man was the male equivalent of an Amazonian. His eyes bespoke a passion and fire that she'd only read about. If Grace was technically his subject, it was more likely she was a thrall.

  "Miss Barnes has rubbed a heel raw, sir."

  "By all means, take her to Carol." He waved them off.

  "Creatives? Does he mean inventors?" Arabeth asked Grace as they walked. "Or is that what he calls Makers?"

  "Makers?" Grace paused. "Well, Maker is not entirely equilateral, but it'll do. Creatives are less direct in their methodology."

  "You've put some thought into the boundaries on this."

  "It helps frame understanding." Grace shrugged.

  "Speaking of understanding, are the
re any taboo subjects, things we should not do or say?"

  “Nothing comes to mind.” Grace frowned. "I guess you'll find out."

  "That's moderately unsettling. We'll avoid the usual topics, then."

  Grace laughed. "I'm joking. We all learn as we go. First, we want you healed. Then, we want you to walk the crystal field out back."

  "We walked through one of those already. That’s how Melanie came down ill."

  "Oh, she’s not ill. She is transitioning. And these crystals are all still young. Sebastian brought shards from the cliff field. Most fields were destroyed over a hundred years ago, and now that people are becoming complacent again, they are only now starting to show power.”

  “I don't understand what they do.”

  “They do what most crystals do: resonate. These ones have a visible reaction and interaction. There aren't many who react to them, and those who do are regulated and 'owned' by the crown.”

  “You mean, they become slaves?”

  “No, it's not like that. I don't understand it, but everyone who has a true crystal reaction becomes almost irrationally loyal to the king. Most lords or landowners plow the fields under every spring, to reduce the odds one of their people will transition, but no one watches the patch by the cliff, because it's in such a poorly travelled spot.”

  The infirmary sat in the basement, which seemed like a horrible choice of location for a medical facility. The lack of sunlight would encourage moulds, and the reduced airflow would encourage exposure, not reduce it. Still, Arabeth reflected, she only had sore heels.

  // Chapter 10 //

  ARABETH SAT ON the edge of a thick stone table as Carol tended her heels. The left heel was raw in spots. She wanted to pay more attention to what Carol was doing, but Grace's news.... It was a true puzzle.

  "Wait, wait. Explain like I was a child," she said.

  Grace chuckled. "Of course. Paragraph 3 of the Accord. The place where you live—you are all in exile for things your great-grandparents did. Anyone who tested positive for crystal reactivity, based on a simple scratch test, was sent there. The others could stay. The mountain was created by the last of the Reformers before they were executed ... as penance for their role."

  "But why exile those who don't test positive? What happens in transition?"

  "There are two— Well, three outcomes. One is the ability to interact with the crystals using your mind; you can communicate with others who use the crystals that way. The one that got your progenitors locked behind a mountain was the ability to alter how something appeared, but only perception, not reality. They could change how things appear—not at the molecular level.

  “There is a third, and it is the one that has you all locked behind a mountain: They can make molecular changes on a grand scale, like changing the weather and making plants spontaneously grow at an exponential rate.”

  “Like a magician.”

  “No, this is not illusions and tricks. That is what Sebastian can do.” Her expression took on a dark cast, giving Arabeth a sudden chill. “These ones gained powers they couldn't control at first, but once they could, reality started to change. It's only those of the most moral upbringing that can be trusted with that much power. It would be magic to anyone, but this was more than magic. It was seen as a form of godhood, and it's why they were all killed and the Lyars and crystal fields were plowed under."

  "How can this be our history when we know nothing of it?" Arabeth scoffed. “Someone would have said something.”

  "Section 17—redefining history to protect the future. You've been told you're at war with us, right?"

  "Actually, we've been taught that the mountains keep out a terrible disease, and that the survivors are still blaming us for it. We thought the war was between you and the rest of our country, and that we'd been blessedly forgotten."

  Carol cleared her throat. "Your feet are done, Miss Barnes." The woman handed her a small metal container. "Put this on twice a day. Find a doctor if your heel starts to burn or ooze."

  "Thank you," she said, looking into the container. There was a greenish-blue gel filling the bottom half. She opened the lid and sniffed lightly. "This smells nice—what's in there?"

  "Just a few plants. Aloe and the like." Carol turned, clearing her equipment away. Arabeth slid off the table, pleased with the lack of pain in her heels.

  "So, this Reforming power sounds like a Maker's dream come true. What happened?" she asked.

  "The same thing that always happens—a battle for control. Lines were drawn, armies were raised. There was, in fact, a war. The land is still scarred," Carol said as she walked around putting equipment away.

  "Most Reforming people can only effect small changes, but now and then someone truly linked comes along. Sebastian is hoping you're one of those. He transitioned, but somehow the link is gone.” Grace sighed. “Let's get you back to the group. They've probably been assigned quarters and will worry if you're gone too long and you'll want to discuss amongst yourselves whether I'm completely off my rocker or not.”

  “Where do Sebastian’s loyalties lie, then, if not with the crown?” Her curiosity was growing by the minute, she realized.

  Grace stopped and looked at her. "He is loyal, but easily misunderstood. His transition was unique—what you see isn’t what he actually looks like. He can change your perception of him, like a siren."

  "A mythological siren? That’s a curious notion.” She was tempted to laugh, but Grace was serious. “I'm curious, that's all. I've never met a person like him."

  "I'd be surprised if you had," Grace said, smirking.

  Arabeth felt her face heat up. "I suppose he gets that reaction a lot."

  Grace paused. "He doesn’t alter his appearance to be different versions of himself—he causes your mind to see him in your ideal form. When you earn his trust, you will see his true form."

  Arabeth blinked, pondering the concept. "That's possible? Psychic manipulation, I mean."

  "Well, I'll describe his true form, and you tell me if it matches the image in your mind."

  "That’s all right; we're not here long. If he wants to conceal his true identity, I'll respect that."

  Again, Grace stared at her a moment. Her cheek twitched and she shook her head.

  "You are unusual, Miss Barnes. I’ll say that’s for sure."

  Arabeth shrugged. "In my experience, you get the respect you give. I expect that's a generally universal truth." In truth, she was enjoying the illusion. Sebastian made a strong first impression by hiding his true self behind mental manipulation. Arabeth, forearmed, wanted to see past the illusion. In fact, the ability would be a great disguise—no two people would describe you the same way.

  // Chapter 11 //

  BACK IN THE ENTRANCE area, Grace turned down a narrow passage and they entered a comfortable common room. Tapestries lined each wall and warm air was blowing in from somewhere. Any hint of dampness was gone. That hallway opened into another less expansive yet open area.

  Three doors sat in the center of each wall, totalling nine. "These are the guest sleeping quarters. Your friends should be along that wall." She pointed straight ahead.

  "Is Melanie here, too?"

  "We thought she'd be more comfortable here than out in the infirmary, and comfort will ease her transition. We want you all comfortable while you're here."

  "A man with no face and his loyal followers sit in a hidden castle, encouraging the use of a forbidden substance that forces unpredictable change…. I doubt comfort is what we'll feel, but at least it'll be interesting," Arabeth said.

  Grace stared a moment, then laughed. "I understand." She walked up to each door and knocked.

  Sam came out the first one, looking relieved when he saw Arabeth. "You're back?"

  "It doesn't take long to dress a wound." She smiled, holding up the jar of salve.

  "Nice. Melanie and you share the room next door. Graham and I are in this one. I'm not sure where Heather and Mabel are. Heather woke up within min
utes of your departure and Mabel started crying. It was chaos after that." He looked to Grace for an explanation.

  "I'll find out where they are for you," she said. "Dinner will be in less than an hour. I suggest you clean up, relax a bit, and when you hear five chimes, come back out here. Someone will be here to guide you to the dining hall. The lavatories are that way." Grace pointed to a pair of doors marked "WC – Ladies" and "WC – Gentlemen."

  "Thank you." Arabeth smiled.

  No sooner had Grace left than Sam pulled Arabeth into a hug and whispered, “Are they as crazy as they seem?”

  “Maybe,” she whispered back. “We don't have to stay, but there are a few inventions I'd like to look at before we go.”

  “Nothing is free. The longer we stay, the more indebted we'll be to them.”

  “I'm a quick study.”

  Someone cleared their throat behind them and they stepped apart.

  “Dinner will be served momentarily,” said a young boy as he went and knocked on the other doors.

  * * *

  A series of long tables sat out buffet style, with food in a single line down the centre. The room was devoid of other diners at this point. Arabeth stared, waiting.

  "You should eat while it's warm," Sam suggested.

  "No one else is here. It feels wrong," she said, still wanting to go find Sebastian. "Where is our host? I have a lot of questions, not the least of which is, does he know who Tanner Stein is and the true reason he was attacking us?"

  "Yes, I do," Sebastian said as he walked into the room. "But you aren't ready to hunt down his cohorts just yet. Let's talk over food."

  "Oh," Arabeth said, feeling her face flush. They all walked over to the buffet table and grabbed a plate.

  "Tell me about your crystal field. Why are you taking the risk of growing one when the government is still against it?" she asked.

  "Our king is dead and the child taking his place later this year is guided by idiots. My crystal study is in part academic, but more than that, the lack of open fields is killing us all. To placate the masses, your kin were divided. It poisons the soil when the crystal fields are plowed under, and the air can't be cleaned by them. The trees are slow when compared to the speed of our industrial growth and change. Long speeches aside, I believe it is your moral obligation to return and heal this land. Your blood demands it. You are the only true voice for the crystals."