“No.” Tesla held up a finger and squeezed his eyes shut. “He can call me Nikky. You call me Dr. Tesla.” Kettlebent opened his mouth to protest, and Tesla giggled.
“You’re not a doctor!” Kettlebent barked.
“And?” Tesla asked, pushing a little further.
Kettlebent bellowed an inarticulate sound of exasperation and turned his attention back to the navigation system.
“He’s fun,” Tesla observed.
“Yeah. I s’pose he is,” Sev agreed, chuckling. He wasn’t sure why, but he really liked Tesla. “May as well get comfortable. We’ve a few days travel ahead of us.” Tesla nodded and settled back against his bag. He tried a few positions before he sat up once more. “What’s wrong?” Sev asked.
“Um. Where do we go to toilet?” Tesla asked, looking about the cabin. Sev regarded Tesla for a moment and then burst into laughter, elbowing Kettlebent, who continued to scowl. When he recovered his breath, Sev explained the toilet situation to Tesla. The young boy seemed a little too keen on doing his business above populated areas, which only coaxed more laughter from Sev.
16
WHILE Kettlebent and Sev were being held at lightning-gunpoint by Tesla, Rat was nervously puffing away at his pipe waiting for Kildeggan at the base of his tower. He wasn’t sure the old man’s plan would work. Rat had bathed and put on the clothes Kildeggan provided, and the once filthy urchin was convinced he looked like a complete prat. He tugged at the starched collar of his white shirt. They were to pose as a young king of an obscure eastern European nation and his valet. Rat saw no way anyone would believe that he was royalty and the scruffy, mechanical-limbed man was his royal steward. He thought the old man’s plan for getting into Fairside was rubbish as well.
Rat’s ruminations were interrupted when the lift screeched to life behind him. He took a deep drag of his pipe, the contents glowing bright orange. He allowed the smoke to seep out his nostrils as he peered through the wrought iron bars of the lift as it descended into view. When Rat saw the man inside the lift, his jaw dropped and the pipe clattered to the stone floor.
The man who stepped out didn’t look anything like Hephaestus Kildeggan. He was sheathed shoulder to ankle in a finely cut pinstriped suit. The shine on his shoes was mirror worthy. Kildeggan was cleanly shaved, and he’d had a haircut. His hair was waxed into shape, and fine leather gloves concealed his clockwork hands. Kildeggan removed a pocket watch from his waistcoat and checked the time. “Are you ready, Your Majesty?” he asked as he placed a pair of pince-nez on the bridge of his nose, the tiny glasses completing the illusion. If it wasn’t for the man’s scar, Rat might not have recognized him.
“Er,” Rat responded.
“Just remember: let me do the talking.” Rat nodded. “Good. Let’s get to the dock,” Kildeggan stated, striding across the tower courtyard. Rat retrieved his pipe and followed.
ON THE opposite side of the city from where Sev first entered was a tunnel that opened to an underground inlet where the revolutionaries received their clandestine shipments. It was here that a small transport boat awaited the pair. Two barrels stood open among a group of the older boys.
Kildeggan approached them, and they snapped to attention. “You know the plan?” he asked them and was met with nods and mumbled confirmations. “Very good.” Kildeggan turned to Rat. “In you go.”
“Um. About that,” Rat said, fidgeting uncomfortably. He chuckled with a total absence of humor. “I’m, uh, I’m not sure this is the best idea.” The other boys shifted nervously, glancing at Kildeggan.
“What’s the problem, Rat? Get in the barrel. We’re running out of time,” the older man told him.
“I don’t know if I can.”
“What?” Kildeggan asked, exasperated. Rat shuffled his feet and shrugged. Rat was sure his uncharacteristic absence of bluster sounded alarms in Kildeggan’s mind. He saw the instant something clicked and Kildeggan gasped and slapped his forehead. “You’re afraid of being in there.”
“I’m not afraid! I just don’t want t’be sealed into that awful thing.” Rat crossed his arms indignantly.
Kildeggan shook his head as he reached into his crisply pressed coat. He pulled out a flask and handed it to Rat. “Have a bit of that and relax. You won’t be in there long, but it’s necessary,” Kildeggan explained in as soothing a tone as he could manage given how pressed for time they were. Rat accepted the metal flask, unscrewed the top, and sipped. His eyes closed as the warmth spread through him. “There. That’s better?” Kildeggan asked.
“Better. Thanks,” Rat said, pocketing Kildeggan’s flask. “Let’s go, old man. What’re ye waitin’ for?” Rat prodded. He wasn’t sure what the old man kept in that flask, but Rat couldn’t remember the last time he felt so relaxed. He happily climbed into the seemingly roomy barrel. The other boys sealed him in. He could hear them closing the other barrel, and then he felt his own barrel being loaded onto the boat.
Rat reached up to touch the top of the barrel, and when his hand felt the resistance, his heart and breathing sped up. He could feel the panic in his chest. Rat grabbed the flask from his pocket and took a substantial pull on the warming, slightly sweet liquid. He felt his body relax again as the alcohol spread outward. Rat closed his eyes for a moment.
THE next time he opened them, someone was removing the lid of the barrel. Kildeggan reached in, helping Rat out. “Are you all right?” Kildeggan asked with real concern evident in his voice.
“Aye. Think so.” Rat rubbed his eyes. He’d missed the transfer to the cart from the boat in Blackside. He’d also missed the barrel being off-loaded to the warehouse in Fairside. “We’re already in Fairside,” Rat guessed.
“We are. Our auto-hansom is waiting outside. Ready?” Kildeggan had a hand on Rat’s shoulder as he spoke.
“I’m ready. Let’s finish this,” Rat answered. Kildeggan nodded at Rat’s answer and led him out of the building and into the awaiting cab.
AS THEY reclined in the overstuffed benches of the hired, luxury auto-hansom, Rat reached into his coat and pulled out the old man’s flask. He handed it back to Kildeggan. “What’s in that?” Rat asked still feeling a little fuzzy.
Kildeggan accepted the metal vessel. “Scotch with a few drops of laudanum,” he answered.
“What? Why would y’put laudanum in scotch?” Rat asked.
“To relax,” Kildeggan replied simply. “To be very honest, I was terrified to be sealed inside that barrel.”
“Hold on. So y’brought that t’calm you?”
“That’s right.”
“But ye gave it t’me ’cause I have the same fear.”
“Yes.”
“So what did you use t’calm yerself, if I had your flask?” Rat wondered.
“Nothing. I had to deal with it. I had to work past it.”
“Damn, old man. I had no idea.” Rat tried to sound apologetic. He felt genuinely bad because he knew exactly how the old man felt, but Rat couldn’t deny that without the little concoction, he might have gone totally mental in that barrel. “Thanks,” Rat mumbled.
“No worries,” Kildeggan offered. “We’re here now. The plan moves forward. That’s all that matters.” The two conspirators sat in silence for a few minutes as they rolled toward their meeting with Faraday.
“Why?” Rat asked.
“Pardon?” Kildeggan asked, avoiding the answer.
“Why’re ye scared o’bein’ shut in?” Rat said a bit louder. “I was buried alive. It was a punishment. My dad was a bit of a monster when he drank. I was lucky he was one of Midnight’s men. After Jack arrived, it only took him a moment t’figure out what my father’d done. Midnight dragged me from the earth my father had buried me in. I don’t really remember it. But sometimes, sometimes I wake up from dreams where I’m gasping for air.” Rat was surprised the story spilled so freely from his mouth.
Kildeggan sat back in obvious shock. The silence stretched once more, and Rat felt a bit offended that he’d shared his trauma
tic experience, but the old man said nothing. He wondered if the old man’s mood swings were seasonal. Rat had decided to just let it go when Kildeggan started to talk. “When I was a small boy, some street toughs harassed me. I tried to ignore it at first, but they refused to stop. It wasn’t long until I was so frustrated that I fought back. I told them to meet me in one of the vacant lots near the neighborhood. I’d never been in a fight before, but that first punch was beautiful. It caught Eddie right on the chin.” Kildeggan paused, smirking at the memory. “He didn’t even feel it, and his cronies grabbed me, dragged me through the lot. They sealed me in a bin. For nearly a week.”
“Ye’re kiddin’ me? Didn’t no one come lookin’ for ye?” Rat asked, sitting forward.
“My parents did. Some of the other adults as well. But Eddie and his crew kept feeding them false information. I screamed and banged on the bin until my throat and fists were sore. I cried then because I realized no one was going to save me. The first time I soiled myself, I felt humiliated even further. By the fifth time, I was hysterical, hungry, and lying in my own filth.”
“Bloody hell,” Rat said unbelievingly.
“I had no idea how long I’d been in that bin, but I threw a final fit, and by sheer luck it dislodged my prison. I rolled down a hill and the rope holding the lid on was loosened. I ran down the street filthy, starving, and nearly dying of thirst, screaming hysterically.”
“Unbelievable.” Rat sat back, exhausted just hearing the old man’s story.
“It wasn’t my finest moment.” Kildeggan gazed out the window.
“What a pair we are,” Rat sneered with sarcasm. “No room fer failure today,” he added.
“Indeed,” Kildeggan agreed, peering out the window. “We’re here.”
Rat whistled as he stepped out of the hired auto-carriage. “The Langham? How in bloody hell can ye afford a room in this place?” he asked, staring up at the rows of windows along Regent Street.
“I can’t,” Kildeggan answered. “Come along.” He strode off down the walk. Rat looked from his companion to the hotel twice before dashing to catch up.
“So what? Are we breakin’ in?”
“Patience, Rat. Patience.” Kildeggan approached a side entrance where a few men in kitchen attire stood smoking. He exchanged hushed words with them and slipped a pound note in one man’s hand. The man nodded and disappeared inside the hotel. He reappeared a moment later and waved Kildeggan forward. “This way, Rat.” The old man marched into the building with Rat at his heels.
“How’re we doin’ this?” Rat asked as they snaked through the kitchen and hallways.
“It’s all in who you know,” Kildeggan replied. “I’ve a few friends on staff, and they know which rooms are empty. We’ve got just over an hour to secure Faraday.” Kildeggan mounted the stairs, and Rat followed, shaking his head with a smirk on his face. He had to admit, the old man was rather impressive.
RAT’S jaw dropped open when he saw the suite they were ushered into. Lush, elaborate, with gold leaf and velvet end to end, it was bigger than most houses he’d been in, and he’d never seen this kind of decadence outside of Midnight’s church. “Rat,” Kildeggan spoke, drawing Rat’s attention. “Close your mouth.” Rat’s jaw snapped shut with a click. Kildeggan turned his attention back to their compatriot, telling him to return in thirty minutes with a food service cart. The man nodded, and Kildeggan gave him an appreciative pat on the shoulder.
“Good.” The old man slapped his hands together and turned his attention to Rat. “All right, grab that chair and pull it right here to the center.” Rat did as Kildeggan said. “Well done. Let’s move this here.” Kildeggan lifted an end table and placed it next to the overstuffed chair. “That one on that side.” He indicated another end table, and Rat rushed to move it. Kildeggan grabbed a bottle of cognac from the sideboard and poured a bit into a snifter, placing both on the left table. “It needs something else.” Kildeggan crossed his arms, studying the scene. He cocked an eyebrow before he slipped over to the bookshelf and returned with a thick tome for the right table.
Rat and Kildeggan both turned toward the knock at the door. “Shit,” Rat growled.
“Calm, Rat,” the old man soothed. “Into the chair. Sit up straight. Don’t say a word,” Kildeggan instructed. Another knock at the door, and Rat took his seat, acting for all the world like royalty. Kildeggan nodded, apparently satisfied, and approached the door. When he opened it, he greeted the visitor with, “Good morning, Mr. Faraday.” Rat wrinkled his nose at Kildeggan’s exaggerated accent.
The older man stalked through the door, passing Kildeggan without a glance. Faraday wore the black robes of a professor, and his white hair and matching sideburns looked slightly wild. The scowl on the old scientist’s face was acidic. “I’m not sure why you’ve summoned me, Your Majesty,” Faraday addressed the silent Rat. “I’m not actively inventing anything at this point in my life.”
“We can offer you a substantial stipend,” Kildeggan offered in his butler voice.
“I’m not a tinkerer-for-hire, sir,” Faraday snapped. “And I don’t need the recompense. Why have you summoned me here, sir?” He addressed Rat, who only raised his nose and looked away.
“His Majesty means no disrespect,” Kildeggan answered. “He’s got a project that he can only trust with the most qualified mind.”
Faraday threw a scowl toward the man he thought was a servant. “I don’t need to hear you, sir. I need an answer from your patron.” Faraday looked at Rat expectantly. Rat’s gaze darted to Kildeggan’s hand, where a metal syringe had suddenly appeared.
“Ye’re in for it now, mate.” Rat stood up.
“What’s the meaning of this?” The old scientist, with his finger raised threateningly, stalked toward the imitation monarch. Kildeggan took advantage of Faraday’s attention being completely focused on Rat to slip fluidly behind the old scientist and pierce his neck with the needle. Faraday’s hand flew to the spot as he spun to look at the butler, his eyes wide with shock for a moment before the sedative took effect. His eyelids fluttered, and he collapsed back toward Rat.
Instead of catching Faraday, Rat watched as the old man hit the oriental carpet. “Rat!” Kildeggan yelped.
“What?” Rat turned his palms to the ceiling and shrugged.
Kildeggan threw his arms up in exasperation. “Grab his arms,” Kildeggan said with a sigh, grabbing Faraday’s legs. “We’ll put him on the sofa until Gavin returns with the cart.” On cue, a soft knock sounded from the door. Kildeggan eased Faraday on the sofa, before he opened the door for Gavin. They loaded Faraday on the lower shelf of the cart, covering him with the tablecloth, and rolled him out of the hotel, where they packed him into their awaiting auto-hansom.
They propped the old scientist up next to the window and headed for Blackside. Kildeggan was counting on Faraday’s celebrity and reputation to get them across the border. When they pulled up to the checkpoint, Kildeggan grasped Faraday’s elbow and lifted it, hoping the gesture would appear sufficiently dismissive to the guards. Rat waited with bated breath while the guard scowled at their carriage. The pause was interminable, and Rat reached into his coat for his knife. Kildeggan shook his head once. Rat tried to convey his impatience with his gaze. Kildeggan pursed his lips in response. Their silent argument was interrupted by the sound of the gate grinding up, and to their relief, the cab continued its journey into Blackside.
KETTLEBENT hadn’t trusted Tesla’s new auto-navigation at first, but after the first day of the airship following a flawless path to London, he reluctantly relaxed. Sev and Tesla found an easy friendship, which rankled Kettlebent further. They dozed and lounged while Kettlebent fumed.
It was three days later, and they were nearly home, before Kettlebent warmed to Tesla. The trio discussed Tesla’s theories in regard to currents and electromagnetism.
“I have a lightning gun that I think ye designed,” Sev told Tesla.
“Really?” The young scientist asked. “What
’s it look like?”
Sev described the weapon. “But the power-bulb is missing,” Sev added.
Tesla nodded. “That was the Mark I. It’s much more difficult to recharge that model.”
Sev opened his mouth to ask about the Mark I but was interrupted by gunfire. “What the hell?” he asked.
Kettlebent looked into the ocular port. “Blast! We’re coming in midmorning. There are Steamcoats on the roofs, firing at us! What are they doing in Blackside?”
“Damn,” Sev spat as the airship continued on its predetermined course. “Someone must have spotted us and alerted them.”
“But why start shooting at us?” Tesla asked. “What if we’re just scientists out for a test run?”
“They saw us take off when we left. They might not know what we’re up to, but they don’t care. Shoot first, no need for questions later.”
“Can we get away from them?” Tesla asked.
“We’ve got no maneuverability!” Kettlebent shouted. “Your auto-nav is keeping us on an exact course.”
“That’s easily fixed,” Tesla replied as he ran to the gadget and detached it from the rest of the navigational controls. He yanked at the wheels, attempting to bank away from their attackers.
“It’s not enough! Can we do anythin’ t’defend ourselves?” Sev asked. A bullet tore through the cabin, too close for comfort.
“Damn!” Tesla barked. “We need to get out of here.” He rifled through his pack. “Wait! What were those things you were talking about using on Munsey and me?”
“The poison apples!” Sev answered.
“What was I thinking?” Kettlebent admonished himself. “I’ve only got six.” He opened his pack and passed the explosives around, two to each person. “Make them count!” He and Tesla dashed to the rear hatch, pitching the gas explosives toward their enemies. Sev opted to slice a hatch in the front of the cabin as the ship listed to port. He leaned out, lobbing his apples onto the enemy rooftops, then ducked inside as a hail of bullets tore through the balloon above his head.
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