Smoke and Steam: A Steampunk Anthology

by Karen Garvin

  Eric opened his mouth to say something, then snapped it shut, smiling instead. "I didn't take your bag. You attacked me, unprovoked. You know it is against the rules to come into contact with people in the air for this very reason. Who is going to fix these wings?"

  Eric folded the wings as best he could with the bend in them and stomped off through the forest, heading for town. Mary knew she was going to be in trouble. Not matter what lies he told, everyone would believe Eric over her. Mary followed the trail she had forged through the brush and grabbed her own wings, folding them. She headed home. At least there, there was at least one person who would believe her over Eric.

  CHAPTER TEN

  When the magistrate came to get her the following day, Mary realized just how serious it was. He showed up at the door with two security men.

  The knock echoed through the whole house. Roland went to answer it. Mary heard talking, but couldn't make out the words. Then the door shut and she heard footsteps coming into the living room.

  "Mary Stewart?"

  The magistrate was a balding man, hunched and old. But still his eyes held some quality to them that scared her.

  "Yes?"

  "I have a warrant for your arrest, along with a writ to seize the wings you have been using. There have been complaints about your actions. Causing one young man to crash land, and talks of illegal modifications to the wings themselves. And I have to say, you are now a person of interest in a robbery that took place several weeks ago."

  Mary nodded and stood. She wasn't going to deny anything, but neither was she going to confess. There was a chance she could get out of this without Hubert getting in trouble with her as well.

  The trio led her back to town and Mary was quickly thrown in a cell. She sat on the bench and tried to take stock of everything that had happened so she could explain her side of the story, even if no one was going to believe her. Instead, she fell asleep.

  When Mary woke, it was near dark outside. She heard Roland's booming voice echo through the small building.

  "There is bail for the girl, I wish to pay it," he said.

  Mary wasn't sure where he had gotten the money. Even with her contributions they were barely scraping by.

  Roland was led back to the cell. He stood there looking at Mary. She wished he would yell or rage, or something. Instead he just stood there looking at her, with that hurt look in his eyes. She had disappointed him. Time and again he had warned her about her temper, especially when it concerned Eric Dane. There was just something about him that rubbed her the wrong way.

  The jailer released Mary into Roland's custody. The walk back to the house was a quiet one. She wanted to know what would happen to the wings; she'd seen them sitting in a carrier outside the jail house with a big lock on them. Roland would barely speak to her.

  When they got back to the house, Alice had dinner on the table. That seemed to be her solution to everything: throw enough food at something and the problem went away. Alice was a great cook, but Mary didn't think that a pot roast was going to make this disappear.

  Alice hugged her when she walked in. Mary could see she had been crying.

  "I'm sorry," was all Mary said to her. What else could she say? Mary knew she messed up and there was no fixing it.

  They ate in silence. After dinner Roland walked out the front door without a word. Mary started to follow but Alice held her back, shaking her head.

  "Don't. He just needs to cool off a bit first dear. He doesn't hate you."

  "I know."

  Mary helped Alice clean up and then went into her room. She laid on the bed trying to sleep, but she knew it wasn't going to come to her. She needed those wings if she was going to make it back to the mainland. There was only one thing for it. Mary tried to talk herself out of it, but even as she grabbed the bolt cutters from her workshop she knew her mind was already made up. If Mary was going to get off this island, she need to take back the wings.

  ***

  Mary made her way back to town and down the road to the jailers. The streetlights burned a bit too bright for her, but there was no way around it. She kept to the darker shadows as much as possible, hoping that the wings were still in the carrier.

  They were, thank goodness. Mary broke the lock with the bolt cutters and slid the wings from the carrier. Now what?

  Mary headed for the nearest launch pad, less than a mile away up a small hill. She jogged the distance in only a few minutes, adrenaline pumping through her. She had crossed the line there was no coming back from. Where was she going to go? For now, she could only think of one place.

  Mary slipped the wings on her back quickly once she got to the launch pad, then stepped out onto the thermal. At this time of night it was weak, but still enough to give her the lift she needed. She spiraled upward, making up her mind once and for all. Mary headed off to Pulltree Island, and Hubert.

  ***

  The trip through the darkness was scary, and difficult. Some of the thermals Mary had expected weren't even there. It was a cool night and a lot of the thermals were very weak.

  It took her nearly an hour to go the ten miles to the island, having to double back to catch more currents often. Once Mary made it to Hubert's house, she said a little prayer, thanking whoever for helping her get there safe and sound. It made her wonder about the trip to the mainland. In the ocean, there were fewer thermals to contend with. Mary knew she was going to have to use multiple canisters. Her mind raced with a new solution. Maybe something that would allow her to discard the empty canisters…

  Mary slung the wings off her back and crept through the yard, knocking lightly on Hubert's window.

  It took a few minutes, but Mary finally saw his oil lamp blaze to life and he came to the window, rubbing his eyes.

  "Mary?"

  "Hey," Mary smiled. "Mind if I stay the night here?"

  Hubert tried to process what Mary was saying as he scratched his head. "Sure, sure." He moved back so she could climb in the window. "What's this about?"

  Mary shrugged. "Can we save it ‘til morning? I'm beat."

  Hubert nodded and grabbed a blanket from the bed and then laid down on the rug at the foot. "You take the bed. We will talk in the morning, OK?"

  Mary nodded, too tired and emotionally wrung out to say anything else, or even protest his giving her the bed. She curled up underneath the covers, still warm from his sleeping. Within minutes she was asleep, her last thoughts of Beatrice as always.

  ***

  Sun struck Mary's face, making her groan and roll over. She wasn't used to having the sun on her like this. Why was the sun on her? Mary popped up, instantly remembering.

  Hubert sat in a chair, watching her from across the room.

  Mary swung her feet over the edge of the bed and reached into the pocket of her slacks for the pocket watch. It was well past nine. She thumbed the little button and the dial slipped around to show her forecast. The dial spun around and around. When it finally stopped, Mary read it.

  'Trouble lay ahead.' Too late, she thought, unless things got worse somehow.

  Mary stretched, catching Hubert watching her. "What?"

  He blushed and looked away. "Nothing. Want to tell me what happened?"

  "Huh?" Mary pushed the crusty bits from the corner of her eyes, trying to clear the fog.

  "Well, try starting with how you ended up knocking on my window at midnight."

  "Oh, yeah." Mary didn't want to have to tell him anything, but figured she owed him an explanation.

  Mary told him the whole story, not leaving anything out. He was silent for most of it.

  "So, what are you going to do?" he asked.

  Mary shrugged. What was she going to do? She had no plan, no idea how to proceed. She was a fugitive now. Surely, they knew it was her who took the wings. It didn't take a genius to add two and two and come up with Mary Stewart. Even Eric Dane could add that high.

  "I dunno, I'm not ready to try the journey yet. Still need to make the extra modi
fications to the wings."

  Hubert stood and crossed the room. When he sat down next to her, he put his hand on hers. "I know what you need to do, but you are not going to like it."

  Mary allowed him to hold her hand. To be honest, she needed the contact. "What's that?"

  "You need to turn yourself in."

  Mary felt him tense up, like he was afraid she was going to hit him.

  "You know I can't. If I go back now they are going to take the wings and do who knows what to me. This time I don't think there would be any bail."

  "You can't live as a fugitive, Mary. The longer you wait the worse it is going to be. Give yourself up, give the wings back. Apologize."

  Mary just couldn't. How could he even suggest such a thing?

  "No way."

  "But you have to. You can't live like this, where will you go. As much as I would like it, you can't stay here. My parents would get upset, and then turn you in. You know my dad patrols. Probably knows you are wanted by now."

  Mary nodded. "Then I will go, I don't want you to get into any trouble." She stood and gathered up her things.

  "Again? Go where?"

  Mary stopped, she really had no place to go. Hubert was right, damn him. The only chance she had was to throw herself on their mercy and hope she didn't get put in a hole under the jail and forgotten. She thought about Beatrice. How was she going to get back to her? Surely, they wouldn't let her keep the wings. She was scared.

  "Fine. You win. I will fly back and give myself up."

  ***

  Hubert brought her some bacon and bread from the kitchen while Mary waited. They said their goodbyes and she climbed back out the window she had come in.

  It was a bit of a hike to the launch pad closest to Hubert's house. Mary had plenty of time to think about things. Even with all that time, she still had no more answers to anything than she did before.

  Hubert was right, of course. Turning herself in was the right thing - the only thing - to do.

  Mary slid the wings into the harness on her back and extended them, then stepped out into the thermal. She circled there, letting the warm air wash over her face, drying the tears.

  The trip back to Staria took longer than usual. But that was Mary's fault. She didn't want to end what could be her final flight. She was sure it was her final flight. The guild would have no choice but to strip her of the wings, and her status. They had never wanted to grant it in the beginning. They never said it to her face, but she heard the whispers behind her back: they didn't want to allow a female to fly; they didn't want a woman to break into their little club.

  Mary swooped over the town, over the jailers. She could see people pointing up at her, some screaming at her, the wind whipping their words away. She saw Roland standing in front of the Magister's office, beckoning to her. Mary scrubbed speed and tilted the nose up, dropping down just a few feet from him.

  A guild member came over and grabbed the wings from her back, unceremoniously folding them up and carrying them into the guild hall. Roland took her arm and led her inside.

  "Everyone is waiting inside," he said.

  "Why?"

  "They were preparing to have a hearing on your fate, and that of the wings."

  "How did you know I would come back?"

  Roland shrugged. "We didn't. It is pure coincidence you came back now. Your fate was to be determined in-absentia. At least now you can speak on your own behalf before sentencing."

  What was Mary to say? She did all the things she was being charged with. There was no excuse for that.

  ***

  Turns out Mary didn't have to speak at all, nor would she have been allowed anyway. The Danes had exerted their influence over the guild. Mary was stripped of her pilot’s license. The wings went to Eric Danes’ family. Just like that. That smug look on Eric's face - she wanted to punch him until it was gone, but Roland grabbed her arm and ushered her out the door. Mary guessed he saw the look in her face. At least she was free. The guild didn't seem to care about much else but taking the wings from her.

  They got back to the house and Mary had to endure the withering gaze of Alice. Why couldn't she just yell at her and be done with it? Her silence was killing Mary.

  They all had a meal in silence and it made Mary wonder how long it would go on. She knew she had messed up, but how long was she to be punished? Even old Jake seemed to be giving her the silent treatment, even when Mary took him the table scraps.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Time passed by, and her misery continued. Mary couldn't take it anymore: Roland's disappointed stares, Alice's silence. She was always so happy before, and now she was a shell of her former self. She barely smiled now, and it seemed to rub off on everyone.

  Mary had to find a way to get the wings back, if not for herself, then at least for Roland. Neither of them had a right to the wings, but Mary knew it would mean a lot to Roland to have them back in the family.

  There was only one thing to do. Mary had to go talk to Eric and the rest of the Danes. She needed to find some way to convince them to let her have the wings back.

  ***

  Mary made the journey up the long hill to the big mansion perched on top. They had their own launching pad off to the side. She walked over and put a hand out, feeling the thermal. She couldn't believe how strong it was. It must have been one of the strongest on the island. Mary imagined launching herself from the pad, eyes closed.

  The image was ripped from her when someone spoke.

  "What are you doing up here?"

  Eric Dane and his father were crossing the long lawn toward Mary. Eric had that same smug look he always had. His father looked like he had just sucked a lemon.

  Mary waited until they were in front of her, she wasn't going to yell across the yard. "I came to talk to you. I need the wings you have. I need to get back home and they are my only option."

  "No," Eric's father said. Custis Dane shook his head, his heavy jowls shaking as he did.

  "Please, if not for me, then for Roland. He is heartbroken I lost the wings. Even if I don't fly, I know it would mean a lot to him to have the wings forever in his carrier."

  "Race me," Eric said.

  "Huh?"

  "Race me, next April in the annual games."

  "Eric, I don't think that is a good idea. Those wings are rightfully ours."

  Eric ignored his father's words, just like he did everyone else that went against him. "If you make it all the way through the games and we meet in the final round, and you beat me, then you can have the wings back to do with as you will."

  "What if I lose?"

  "Oh, there is no if about it. You will lose. And when you do, you will sign a document that says you will never fly again, will never touch a set of wings again. And..." Eric tapped his chin with a finger, thinking. "And you will work here at the mansion, in the kitchens washing dishes."

  Custis snickered and set a hand on Eric's shoulder. "A fair shot. Anything less than making it to the final round and beating my son results in your loss."

  Mary started to protest. What if Eric just threw the race somehow, never even made it to the final round? No, Eric was just arrogant enough not to do that. He would want the pleasure of beating her in front of everyone.

  "Deal," Mary said, sticking her hand out. At first she didn't think Eric was going to take it, but then his father gave him a little shove. It felt like shaking hands with an eel.

  "I will need to practice. Can I have the wings back? Until the races?"

  Eric looked off into the distance for a moment, "No. I have a better idea. You will use my old wings, the ones you bent up. They umm, they still need to be straightened. I hear you like to tinker, I'm sure that is something you can take care of, yes?"

  Mary knew it was the best she was going to get. She was confident she could beat Eric, no matter the wings. She'd done it once already.

  "OK. Deal."

  Eric called a servant over and had him retrieve the wings. They stood
there in silence until his return. Even from a distance Mary knew the trouble she was in. The wings were bent much worse than she could have imagined. They wouldn't even fold up properly.

  ***

  Mary made her way back down the hill, lugging the heavy wings along with her. They easily weighed half again as much as the wings she had been using. This was going to be a challenge. The first of many to come. First, she needed to fix the wings.

  Once Mary got the wings back to her tiny workshop, she could get a better look at the damage. It didn't seem as bad as she had first thought. The spine was bent, but only a small amount. A few hammer strikes against the anvil and it was back in place.

  The worst of it though, was a hinge hooked on the left wing that would operate the end flaps when Mary flexed her back a certain way. The metal had torn and would need to be replaced.

  "What do we have here?"

  Mary jumped at the sound of Roland's voice. It was one of the few times he had spoken directly to her in weeks. She turned her head to hide the tears that welled up in her eyes. He had no idea how much it meant that he was out here offering help. Mary cleared her throat, trying to knock the lump down a bit.

  Mary told Roland everything that had happened with the Danes, and the bet.

  Roland brushed his fingers over the wings. "Look at these poor things. It's going to take some work."

  "This hinge is broken. I'm going to need to replace it. It's going to cost me more than I have to get one made."

  Mary threw a screwdriver down in frustration. This time she did cry.

  Mary felt Roland's arms slip around her and he hugged her. She buried her face in his arm and let loose. It was really the first time she had cried since coming to the island. She hadn't allowed herself to, but now she couldn't stop it.

  Roland didn't say anything, just held her and let Mary sob herself out. Funny how something like that could be so cathartic. Mary cried away a lot of her frustration then wiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands.