Revolutionary Magic (with Bonus Content)

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  He gave me a reassuring nod. "That's good enough for me," he said, and though it was convincing, I heard the for now that was implied. "But I promised the Society that I wouldn't show you our most valuable secrets until there's consensus on your trustworthiness."

  "I see," I said, a bitter anger rising in my throat like bile. "Shall I offer my teeth for inspection, turn out my small clothes to be sniffed, shave my head to remove the foul taint of being Russian?"

  Ben recoiled, his eyes flinching. "Kat...you know my trust in you is absolute, but I've a promise to the Society to uphold." He paused, thoughts balancing on an uneasy scale behind his eyes. "Give it time. They'll find you as upstanding, not just upstanding, critical to achieving our goals. Return to the estate. I'll meet you after I'm finished here."

  I sighed. If I couldn't trust Ben, I had no business being in the Society, or Philadelphia, so I nodded and collected my jacket. On my way out, I mulled his words, trying unsuccessfully to take solace in Ben's assertion that the members of the Society would eventually accept my membership.

  They'll see me for who I am.

  I just didn't know how quickly that assertion would be challenged.

  Chapter Two

  Philadelphia was in ascension. An amicable peace between the States and England had been forged with the Treaty of the Big Waters, as they were calling it, a feather in the tricorn hat of President Washington's third term.

  The streets had a tangible energy, a vibration one felt from the folks in their tailcoats and top hats, or linen coats and fur-lined hats, bustling from one location to another. Even the dirt-smudged poorer folks, the farmers and mill workers, had a bounce in their step.

  The contrast between Philadelphia and Moscow was more pronounced than the difference between a free-running stallion and a yoked workhorse. In my former life at the Russian court, though I presided over and profited from my serfs, I did not mingle with them except during those rare times they were allowed to bring grievances. Here, in the capital of this grand experiment, lines between the classes blurred to confusion.

  An airship hummed overhead, its wide leather bladder with dull grey struts marking it as a transcontinental traveler. Its gondola was probably stuffed with eager immigrants with nothing but desire in their pockets.

  A thick-necked merchant drove past on a sleek new steam carriage, one with the newest engines straight out of the Ottoman Empire. The harsh coal smoke had the whiff of sulfur, but the merchant probably smelled opportunity.

  Which was why I'd agreed to reinvent myself in this burgeoning city, and took up the cause of like-minded thinkers, even though they had not fully accepted me in their midst.

  The Transcendent Society, a small and thoroughly exclusive club, consisted of the greatest minds of the Enlightenment. The Society was dedicated to furthering mankind's struggle against tyranny and ignorance.

  Benjamin Franklin was its de facto head, having formed the Society after years of correspondence, though the real breakthrough came when he developed the alchemical powder that offered quasi-immortality. By keeping the numbers in the Society small and extending their lives indefinitely, they could help shape the direction of history without risking discovery.

  Exploiting a loophole in the rules, Franklin had invited me into the club. There was a great discord from some of the other members, most notably the French writer Voltaire.

  I dwelled on the political intricacies of the Society until I arrived at my destination. The Franklin Estate was a sprawling building that meandered across four lots, though at least it had the decency to put up a formal front. The entrance to the estate borrowed designs from Greek and Roman architecture, including a Greek portico with two Doric columns.

  The estate had been my home for the last year, a temporary arrangement until I could acquire an abode of my own. Traveling in Europe as a princess of the Russian court, I'd grown used to leaning on friends and acquaintances for lodging, but as an American citizen, I thought it my duty to be self-sufficient.

  The interior was a maze of rooms which I could leisurely wander, spying previously unnoticed treasures like the prototype of a mechanical spider with spindly wire legs that I'd seen a few days ago scurrying beneath the heating furnace. I resolved to sink my frustrations on work at his printing press, which I planned to soon take over at a shop of my own, so I could learn the trials of the fourth estate.

  As soon as I strolled into the atrium, I knew something was amiss. My hand fell to my hip for a non-existent rapier as I realized a man was seated in the parlor.

  The man had a large nose, bulging eyes, and a protruding lower lip, and he twitched as if pulled by invisible strings. He mumbled something under his breath as I turned to address him.

  "Good sir," I said, "may I help you? Have you wandered into the wrong house? This is the Franklin Estate. I assure you it's not a place to purchase residence."

  "I assure you I'm in the right house," he said with a sneering Scottish accent. "Are you sure you're in the right place?"

  "If you say, then, that you're in the right place, who are you? Speak quickly and I won't retrieve my rapier and swat your bottom out the door."

  My misspent anger flew out with unexpected vigor. I tugged on the bottom of my jacket, cinching it around my chest.

  The intruder's bulging eyes glanced out the picture window to the cobblestone street. "When is Ben returning?"

  My gut seized upon hearing him called Ben rather than Temple. I instantly knew the man's identity. He was a member of the Society, one thoroughly opposed to my membership.

  "You're Adam Smith," I said. "I've read your book, the Wealth of Nations. It inspired me to take on a profession in this second life."

  Adam's lips soured as if he'd eaten a bitter lemon. He looked like a slender gargoyle, his long, bony hands gripping his knees.

  "I doubt you know the meaning of work, Princess Dashkova," he said. "Royalty only knows one thing, how to take. Offering nothing in return except war and poverty."

  I lifted my chin. "I renounced my claims when Emperor Paul exiled me."

  "Like a man proposing after he's gotten the woman with child. The deed was done long before you made your decision. Now you've attached yourself to the Society like a parasite, which is appropriate given your royal upbringing," he said, his gaze never resting on one spot.

  "A person cannot change where they were birthed, or the circumstances of their upbringing. But I heartily assure you we can change the direction of our adult lives, good sir," I said, stamping my foot on the sir.

  Smith rose from the divan like an apparition, his dark blue cloak falling from his shoulders to his waist. He waved a bent knuckle in my direction.

  "Exactly," he said, "and by those choices I will judge you."

  I knew then what he meant, having been informed by Ben only an hour before that some in the Society believed I was a spy. Denials evaporated when Ben strolled into the parlor, knapsack dangling from his sturdy shoulder. He looked like an explorer returning from an expedition with a cheery whistle on his lips.

  He lost the smile upon seeing the two of us at a standoff, Adam's accusing finger still hooked in my direction.

  "I thought the melodramatics were more Voltaire's thing," said Ben, who turned to me and winked.

  Adam blinked, his lids flashing like shutters over the bulging lens of a telescope. He pulled his cloak around himself and sat on the divan as if it were made of cold stone.

  "I guess we should count ourselves fortunate, Katerina, that you do not carry that nimble rapier with you at all times," Ben said, nodding to my hand.

  I shook the hand away from my body, it having cramped from being held at repose. I resolved to throw myself into a lather-inducing practice later, but bowed to Ben to show my restraint.

  "Did your mysterious item unearth more truths?" I asked.

  "It did," he said, his brows knitted together. "But it only suggested more questions, more mysteries."

  Before Adam Smith could lodge a questi
on, Ben took a moment to explain the circumstances of the investigation, telling the tale in a manner that entertained, even for me, who had experienced it firsthand.

  "Can you elaborate on your hypothesis?" asked Adam with a wary eye cast in my direction.

  Ben, who had relieved himself of the knapsack, placed his hand under his chin. I smiled despite myself and the lingering heat I'd gathered in my exchange with Adam Smith. Ben had a roguish quality that embodied the American spirit and inspired me to follow him down any path he laid our feet upon.

  "Ours is not the only plane of existence," he said as way of introduction. "Like two soap bubbles brushing against each other, portals can form between these planes, allowing objects and creatures to pass from one to the other. These portals have been responsible for the increasing presence of magic and the creatures with which we have done battle."

  "How can you know this?" I asked.

  "Conjecture," he said, and then nodded towards Adam. "And a few facts that will currently remain unspoken."

  Another time I might have argued with Ben, but Adam Smith's presence and our earlier conversation weighed heavily on my mind. I kept my face as unreadable as possible.

  "Then we should be rid of her," said Adam, "so we can continue this conversation in earnest. These incidents seem to be coming more frequently, which puts a great emphasis on our need to understand them, so we may act accordingly." He looked to me. "You are dismissed, madam."

  Ben stepped between us before I could launch a hailstorm of invectives. I had a particularly nasty Russian insult involving a cuckold and two suckling pigs readied for launch.

  "Adam, I know you are opposed to her membership in the Society, but we need Katerina. We have flailed thus far at this mystery without much to show for our efforts. She has a peerless mind and does not brook sloppiness. Why, during our investigation at the Coopers, it was she who discovered that this Theodore was not capable of even understanding that his memory had been taken. Which again suggests that its origin is magical in nature rather than one of physical damage."

  Adam shifted on his rear, face contorting through various unattractive poses.

  Ben continued with palms towards the Scottish economist. "I must show her how we can detect this magic, so she might help us devise a trap that might discover its root."

  "Hmmm..."

  "None of the others are here," said Ben. "It's only the three of us, and events seem to be quickening."

  "I suppose we must then," said Adam. "But I shall keep my eye on you, Princess. If you show the slightest indication that you are not who you say you are, we shall withdraw our protection."

  "I am your humble servant," I said. "I will endeavor to earn your trust."

  Adam offered a reluctant smile that he barely bothered to maintain for more than a breath.

  "Well, then." Ben clapped his hands softly. "Let us show Katerina our greatest find."

  The knapsack sagged when Ben lifted it by the straps. A quick twist of the fingers released the buttons. Ben sunk his hand into the darkness.

  His attention focused on the object in the knapsack. He'd drawn quite serious only moments before, but I knew by the way he prepared to exalt what he had in his grasp that it was an invention of some kind. Whenever Ben explained an invention, whether his or another's that he admired, he displayed an effervescence that bordered on childlike.

  While I was prepared for many things, I was not prepared for the object to be a silvery metal gauntlet of unknown design. The style was nothing with which I was accustomed.

  Gazing upon it churned my stomach, making me want to look away. I felt dizzy and lightheaded despite standing on two solid feet.

  Rather than interlocking steel links, or overlapping plates, the gauntlet was made of one solid piece. The cyclopean design held a chunk of the blackest night on the back. It was a smooth obsidian stone that grossly reflected my visage when I leaned closer.

  "What does it do besides give me a gut-shot of the barrel fever?" I asked.

  "As far as we can tell, it detects the presence of magic, though I have a suspicion that's not its only function," said Ben.

  "Was there magic at the Coopers?" I asked.

  "A lingering residue," said Ben. "Which is why I suspect a portal. The signature began and ended inside the house."

  "Why would someone erase the memories of a customs agent?" asked Adam.

  "Maybe not erased, but stolen," I said.

  I caught Adam's surprised agreement, though he quickly hid it behind an impeccable scowl.

  "What would a magical being want with Theodore's memories?" asked Ben. "I can't think of anything more boring than a customs agent. Theirs is the monotonous task of accounting the comings and goings of industry through the port. This Theodore Cooper would know nothing of the important workings of government, no secrets to lay bare."

  I agreed with Ben, though something tugged at my thoughts. Before my exile, I'd spent a dozen years as the director of the Russian Academy of Science. I'd been given the position after the ineptitude of the previous holder. The former director never bothered with the bureaucratic necessities that kept an organization from falling into chaos, and it'd been my diligence that had elevated the academy to its current glory.

  "Bureaucracy, though unloved, has purpose," I said. "Maybe there is some clue within his responsibilities."

  "What if there are others?" asked Adam suddenly.

  The three of us pondered his question in silence.

  "How would we know?" I asked. "Can that gauntlet detect magic from across the city?"

  Ben shook his head. "Only as close as a driver to a horse tail."

  "Can you lean on your connections in the government to inquire about other incidents?" asked Adam.

  "Under my grandson's name, I have less, but enough to get us an answer," said Ben.

  "Then I'll take to the docks and spend time watching the comings and goings of goods," said Adam Smith. "Much can be learned about a city's economics by its trade."

  "I could take that gauntlet and canvas the city," I offered, wanting to contribute to the investigation. "A block by block review might uncover more instances. Maybe the custom agent's loss was merely coincidence and had nothing to do with his government station."

  Adam Smith shook a fist in my direction. "You'd like to get your hands on our most prized possession." Spittle formed at the corner of his lips. "If we gave that to you, we'd never see you again, and you'd hand it over to our enemies in Russia."

  "Russia is not the enemy of America," I said, my voice rising. "I've no love for the current emperor—he's a tyrant and a fool—but Russia deserves a place on the world's stage."

  "Always about pride with you Russians," said Smith. "Pride's a dangerous lure to the weak of mind."

  I looked to Ben for support, expecting him to back me, but when I saw the deep wrinkles around his mouth and eyes and the hunched brow, I knew there was more they weren't telling me.

  "How many secrets are you keeping from me?" I asked.

  "Not really keeping from you," said Ben. "Word will get out eventually, but something's happening in Russia. We're not even sure that the emperor is in charge anymore. Our sources in Moscow have disappeared, the nobles are silent, the serfs terrified. What information we do receive appears written by madmen, though given the strange occurrences around here, it might be this plague of magic has a stronger hold in Russia."

  A cold and bony hand seized around my heart. My son Pavel was a member of the emperor's court, and I had not received a letter from him in a few months. It'd been a heavy winter and letters might have been delayed, but they should have arrived by now. This news and the absence of communication from my son left me with dark thoughts.

  Suddenly, Ben was beside me, while Smith left the room, glancing ominously in my direction before he disappeared through a door. Ben placed a warm hand on my forearm, giving it a little squeeze. He smelled like pine needles and hearth fires. I wanted to lean against him.

&
nbsp; "I know this comes as troubling news," said Ben. "And I'm afraid I must impinge upon your wounded heart once again. Until the source of the recent events can be resolved, you cannot stay at the estate. There are other secrets you are not privy to, and your presence in the house will make it impossible to keep them from you."

  The bony hand around my heart cinched tighter. "Then where am I to live?"

  "I own a house on the south side of Market Street. The previous resident and I had a disagreement so she no longer lives there and I haven't been able or wanted to rent it out since then. It's a wonderful place. You'll love the bath, it has no equal in the known world," he said.

  "I don't care for baths," I said.

  "I'm sorry, Kat. It has to be this way right now. While we sort this out, which will happen sooner rather than later, I've taken the liberty of setting up the printing shop. It's only a few blocks from here," he said, patting my hand like a father with his wayward child. "I hired some porters to move your things to the new place. You should find everything you need."

  He handed me an envelope with his seal stamped into the red wax. On the outside in a patient script was the address.

  "I am to be cast out of the Society?"

  He shook his head, features cast into an appropriately sympathetic frown. "A momentary delay."

  "Well, then," I said, shivering despite the warmth of the room.

  "Kat, I know you can still help us. Use that prodigious mind of yours and help us figure out this mystery. It'll go a long way towards assuaging the doubts of the Society," he said.

  I pulled away, thoughts whirling through my head like a windstorm.

  "I must take a walk to clear my head," I said, marching towards the front door.

  "When you return, I'll give you a tour of your new business and home," said Ben with a hopeful smile.

  The door closed harder than I wanted, the abrupt bang like a gunshot, leaving me to cringe. I didn't want Ben to get the impression that I wasn't appreciative of his defense and the lodging. Truthfully, I had much to be thankful for in the house of Ben Franklin. I could scarcely complain about the treatment I'd received from Ben, especially given the circumstances.