“Vampires have enough power already,” hissed Felix.
“Would you please try to be logical, without prejudice?” Sophronia couldn’t help it; some of her frustration with Felix’s myopic perspective leaked out. Why isn’t he trained like we are, to think about motives and manipulation? Why doesn’t he understand that this damages my affection for him?
Felix was having none of it, although he kept his voice low. “As if you weren’t prejudiced against Picklemen.”
If Sophronia had had a temper, it would have flared up at that accusation. As it was, she only gave Felix a pitying smile. “They destroyed my mother’s gazebo and tried to kill me with a huge mechanimal. Then again, the vampires kidnapped and nearly killed Dimity. For that matter, the werewolves just attempted treason. Everyone is bloody handed. That’s my point.”
“Sophronia, language!” barked Dimity.
“Whose side are we on, then?” reiterated Soap, mildly, looking strangely cheered by the dissent among his traveling companions. He watched Sophronia and Felix bickering with something bordering on delight.
Sophronia was wondering that herself. Perhaps I’m better off making a patron of the queen like Mrs. Barnaclegoose. Then she remembered that she had to hold this whole impromptu expedition together, and that they were still hiding out in an enemy train. They all needed a patron right now. She drew herself up.
“We are on Sidheag’s side,” she said firmly.
“Well, thank you very much, Sophronia,” said Sidheag. “But I’d rather not take responsibility, if I don’t have to.”
“Then we are on the side of curiosity and evenhandedness. Once we know what’s really going on, then we choose.”
“That’s a very murky position,” objected Felix.
“So’s the weather. But this is England, we must learn to live with uncertainty.”
Their train did not head to London, but trundled roughly northward on one of the lesser-used regional tracks, out of the way of faster engines. Sidheag occasionally looked longingly across the landscape, where black smoke indicated a faster locomotive, but she didn’t say anything about it. At least they were moving in the general direction of Scotland, even if it was at a snail’s pace. Occasionally they paused before starting up again, probably so that the transmitter could be used.
Around noon they stopped for twenty minutes at a station so tiny there was no point in Sidheag’s jumping down and taking a risk by waiting for another train. Any train that came through would be, if possible, slower than the one they were already on. The only interesting thing was the continued absence of station mechanicals. Had they broken down again, or were people now scared to use them?
“If this goes on for too long, at too many stations and wealthy households, there will be a public outcry,” said Dimity.
The group was getting a little lax about security. Someone still stood watch at the door, but it really seemed that no one else was on the train. When they paused, only Monique, the drone with the transmitter, or the driver was ever visible, although presumably there must be a stoker. No one was interested in checking the last carriage. Why was it even attached? To make the train look larger and more important?
Sophronia agreed with Dimity. “Mumsy couldn’t manage the household if Frowbritcher stopped functioning. She uses him for practically everything. That’s why she’s so diligent about maintenance. If he’s still down today, the house will be in chaos.”
Sidheag said, “Rather dependent, isn’t that?”
Sophronia only shrugged.
“Doesn’t Kingair keep mechanicals?” asked Dimity.
“No, we keep clavigers for the dirty jobs. The castle is far too old to lay tracks.”
Felix bristled at Sidheag’s implications.
Sophronia suspected that Duke Golborne’s residence, both in the country and in town, was littered with tracks. Felix seemed like the type to come from the sort of family that kept a mechanical for every whim. Perhaps his ideals are more entrenched than I thought. A true test of my persuasive abilities!
Felix defended the status quo. “People wouldn’t need so many tracks if the supernatural politicians stopped restricting mechanical development. After all, mechanimals don’t need tracks, but free rollers are illegal. It was the potentate that pushed that piece of legislation through.”
Sophronia frowned. “Are you saying tracks are no longer necessary?”
“Might be implying it, but I’m not saying it.” Felix looked smug.
Sophronia thought of Bumbersnoot. He operated without tracks and was illegal. But he also wasn’t very big and wasn’t, by most standards, useful. Yet correlate track-free motion to the idea that mechanicals might be controlled by a distant third party via the crystalline valves? Sophronia felt very uncomfortable. She could almost see where the vampires were coming from.
Speculation died down after that and things got extremely dull. The day was gray and drizzly. The train moved slowly north. They played cards; Felix had some in an inside pocket. They bickered about inconsequential things. They were all getting a bit tetchy after being trapped in a coach for so long.
Around teatime Dimity threw down her cards petulantly. “Sophronia, you never warned me adventuring would be so dull and tea-less.”
“No, but Lady Linette did. She said when one was stalking a mark that great patience was required.”
“I missed that bit.” Dimity leaned back. “What I wouldn’t give for a nice pot of Assam with some of those little cream puffs with the sugar on top. This isn’t the life for me. It really isn’t.” She looked most unhappy. It lent her ridiculous getup an air of self-sacrifice. She made for such an unconvincing boy.
Felix looked at Dimity, intrigued. “I thought all of Mademoiselle Geraldine’s girls wanted to be intelligencers.”
“Do all of Bunson’s boys want to be evil geniuses, Lord Mersey?” Dimity responded, knowing with confidence that this was not the case. Her own brother objected to the principles of his school, and mooched through his studies in a very nonevil way.
“No, I suppose not. Then why bother?”
Dimity grimaced. “You haven’t met my mother.”
“No, I haven’t had that pleasure.”
“I’d avoid it if I were you.”
“Duly noted.”
“Dimity means to get herself married to a nice safe country squire or tuppenny knight. Spend the Season in London and the rest of the time out of all intrigue in the countryside. Although lately the countryside seems very excitable.”
“You mean, like a normal girl?” Felix looked not at all upset by this admission of limited ambition.
Dimity flushed and glared at Sophronia. “You aren’t supposed to tell a boy that!”
“As if he weren’t well aware of the marriage mart? If he isn’t yet, he should be. Once he circulates in society, he’s going to be prime nosh.”
“I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not, Ria. You make me sound like a bun from the baker’s.”
“And a very tasty hot cross bun, unless I’m very much mistaken. Full of currants,” said Sophronia, speaking for all the chaperones in Felix’s social future.
Felix actually blushed.
Soap looked as if he might be moved to speak against such outright flirting. His face wore an expression of disapproval not unlike that of Professor Lefoux upon encountering something she deemed particularly frivolous.
Felix turned the conversation elegantly back to Dimity, saying gallantly, “Don’t you worry, Miss Plumleigh-Teignmott. I respect that choice. It seems eminently reasonable for a young lady of quality.” Was he purposefully testing Sophronia with that statement?
Sophronia couldn’t say anything. If she objected to his support of the normal path, she would insult Dimity. If she condoned it, her own choices were in question. Very nicely played. She gave Felix a nod of credit.
Sidheag, however, took offense. After all, she was off to probable spinsterhood and a very abnormal life choice—nanny to a band of d
iscredited werewolf soldiers. She would have argued with Felix, but Sophronia put a hand to her arm and shook her head. Sidheag jerked away and went to stare out the window, annoyed now with both of them.
We are exhausted by each other’s company. Lady Linette had warned that such things were apt to happen at house parties. The only ones who seemed to be weathering the confining quarters well were Soap and Bumbersnoot. Sophronia supposed Soap was accustomed to being confined to engineering. Plus, he was content to let Sophronia handle bickering aristocrats. Bumbersnoot, on the other hand, was disposed to enjoy himself no matter what. A very doggy quality.
Sophronia wanted to ask Soap’s advice. He was unofficial mayor of the sooties; how did he lead them without constant dissent? She thought back over the course of their friendship, only now realizing how often he had given her counsel. Had this untenable romantic affection of his destroyed that as well? What will I do without him? When he’s gone off and turned claviger, I’ll no longer have any balance.
Soap saw her looking at him, her green eyes grave and pleading. He tilted his head at her in query. But there was no privacy to ask him anything. An uninformed decision had to be made. Fortunately, uninformed decisions were Sophronia’s speciality.
Sophronia said, into the silence of discontent that permeated the coach, “Are we agreed that there are few people on this train, possibly only Monique and three others?”
“Sophronia, what are you planning?” wondered Dimity, knowing that tone in her friend’s voice.
“Soap, how different are steam engines in trains from steam engines in dirigibles?”
“Not a great deal. I believe the basics are pretty much the same, miss.”
“Sidheag, you did a bit of stoking when we were down with the sooties, yes?”
“Of course, you know me, I never mind getting my hands dirty.”
Speaking of dirty, Felix gave Sidheag a very dirty look at that statement. “One simply can’t trust the Scottish aristocracy,” he grumbled.
Sophronia nodded, decision made. “Good. I think we should steal this train.”
Possibly as a result of being restless, possibly because they were accustomed to her outrageous ideas, there was no outcry at such a bold statement. Sophronia was a little disappointed.
Everyone looked mainly thoughtful.
“That sounds reasonable,” said Dimity. Dimity, of all people!
“We could get it going faster and straight toward home,” said Sidheag, brightening up substantially.
Even Soap, the voice of Sophronia’s reason, looked excited, if slightly peevish. “I’ve never driven a train before.”
Felix only blinked at them all in silent horrified wonder.
They pooled their resources.
Sophronia, with all her pockets, was the best equipped. Dimity and Sidheag both had red handkerchiefs, lemon-scented oils, and sewing shears. Sophronia gave her shears to Felix and her letter opener to Soap, preferring to rely on her new bladed fan. There was some discussion over the use of the obstructor—was it better applied in the aetherographic chamber? Finally, they decided Sophronia should take it with her to the locomotive cab. In case they needed to stop the train in a hurry, it could, theoretically, seize up the engine. Although Sophronia had never used it on anything so large.
Soap said, while Sophronia checked the condition of her two gadgets and strapped one to each wrist, “Funny, miss, how you’ve got the hurlie for the charge forward and the obstructor for the opposite, stopping an attack.”
Sophronia smiled at the symbolism. “I guess I do, don’t I?”
“Evenhanded balance in this as in everything else?” suggested Soap, mildly. Showing that he, at least, cared for her political beliefs.
Dimity shouldered Bumbersnoot in his lacy reticule disguise.
Only then did Felix throw his hands into the air. “Are you all completely biscuit minded? How will you steal a train? It’s on tracks, you realize? And it’s huge. It’s not as if people won’t be able to trace where you’re going or see you coming.”
They hid it in plain sight, of course.
That was Sophronia’s plan. They had thought the train might be transporting a circus when they first saw it, so they carried that idea forward.
Much to Dimity’s distress, this involved ripping her gold masquerade gown into streamers. Sidheag and Felix hung these off the roof railings on the two passenger carriages. Soap, Sophronia, and Dimity righted the airdinghy and draped the balloons to flutter off the back of the train. It did look rather like a carnival carrier.
“People won’t question the presence of an odd-looking train if it contains entertainers,” insisted Sophronia.
Dimity grimaced, brushing off her hands and looking around. “My poor dress.”
Finished with the streamers, Felix climbed over, looking harried. “How will we get through stations, not to mention switches? You can’t know how to work those. And what about, oh, I don’t know, crashing into an oncoming locomotive!” His voice rose slightly in hysteria as he ranted. Sophronia was impressed; she hadn’t thought he had it in him to get so upset. It was kind of adorable.
“They must have timetables in the engine room? Mustn’t they?” said Sidheag. “We’ll stick to the regional tracks and avoid local passenger carriers. We’ll be perfectly fine. After all, Monique is already doing it. What matter if we take over?”
It was always nice to have Sidheag on one’s side. Such a good egg.
“And you think the vampires will let us simply trundle off with their aetherographic transmitter?” Felix scoffed.
Sophronia arranged the last collapsed balloon to her satisfaction. “If this were a hive collective maneuver, they’d have more drones on board. I think this is Westminster’s gambit. That’s why so few passengers. The farther we get from London, the less their influence.”
“This is obviously some shared delusion of ability. Unless”—Felix paused—“you haven’t been taught train stealing at Mademoiselle Geraldine’s, have you?”
“Not as such,” admitted Sophronia, with a grin. She was enjoying Felix’s discomfort. He so rarely got riled over anything, it was a pleasure to see his beautifully sullen face animated, even if that animation was frustration.
Felix ran his hands through his dark hair, sounding like a resigned maiden aunt. “It’ll all end in tears and coal dust, you see if it doesn’t.”
“Well, since we’ve already started, might as well continue.” Sophronia led her little band over the top of the passenger carriage toward the aetherographic transmitter.
They stopped before the coupler.
“Sidheag, Soap, and I will take the engine room. Felix and Dimity, you’re on the drone in that transmitter.” She overrode Felix’s protests. “Try not to kill him and try not to damage the machine. Both could be valuable. Your target is the crystalline valve. Get Bumbersnoot to eat it. Then if everything goes wrong, at least we have the one key piece of the puzzle, and evidence.”
“Has she always been this bossy?” Felix asked Dimity.
“Imagine being her best friend,” replied Dimity.
“Crikey.”
“Dimity, am I really? That’s so sweet.” Sophronia was distracted from bossiness by affection. She thought of Dimity as her best friend, but they had never talked about it, and she’d no idea Dimity felt the same. After all, Dimity was more popular and gregarious, and had lots more friends than Sophronia. Possibly because she wasn’t so bossy.
“Of course. Sorry, Sidheag,” Dimity answered with a grin.
Sidheag made a face. “You two are attached at the hip, everyone knows that.”
To Felix, Sophronia said, “I only get bossy when it’s important. Speaking of which, you should let Dimity go first, she has more training. Besides, and I do apologize, Dimity, but the shock value alone of your outlandish appearance might give you the edge.”
Dimity’s resigned expression, combined with the oddball clothing, gave her a marked resemblance to her brother in his yo
unger, portlier days.
“Definitely bossy,” said Felix, resigned.
“Oh, hush up, you like it,” said Sophronia.
Felix grabbed her hand, and before she could protest, pressed a swift kiss to her arm above the hurlie. It was shockingly forward and very daring. Of course, Sophronia was delighted.
“I do,” he murmured against her skin, letting her go just before she would have felt it necessary to jerk away.
Soap hissed a little, like an offended cat.
Dimity clasped her hands together. “Don’t worry, Sophronia, I’ll look after him for you.”
“Oh, I say,” huffed Felix, glaring doubtfully at Dimity.
So they left Felix crouched behind Dimity, ready to climb down and enter the freight carriage. They could only pray the drone had no gun. Sophronia hated to think her friends were going into danger on her orders. The price of bossiness, she thought.
But she had to trust in Dimity’s abilities; it needed to be a coordinated attack. So she led the other two onward, over the two passenger coaches, hopefully empty, and then over the tender to the cab. The cab had open doorways on both sides. She crouched on the right and Soap on the left, ready to swing down and in. Sidheag held position on the roof behind them, to follow as soon as possible, whichever side seemed necessary.
Sophronia waved her arm back at Dimity.
Her friend signaled acknowledgment. Then Dimity and Felix disappeared from sight.
Sophronia looked over and was about to nod to Soap when he pointed up. Ahead and above them, through a break in the clouds, was that same dirigible. The one Soap had spotted before. No time to think about that. Sophronia spread her hands in mystification and then nodded at him, once.
They each crossed their own arms, grabbing on to the top edge of the cab roof, then swinging out and twisting around feet first through the doorway to land inside the cab proper. Sophronia, trained in acrobatic execution, had had ample opportunity to practice as she climbed about the school. In trousers, it was easy as buttered crumpets. She had no idea why Soap knew the maneuver, but sooties were universally fit and Soap very athletic. He did get a bit tangled up in the doorframe, being taller than she, so his landing was one knee down.
Waistcoats & Weaponry Page 16