by Mark Lingane
“That’s very kind of you,” Sebastian said.
“No worries. Just give me ten and we’ll get on it.” He turned to the kitchen. “Sheila, get some grub for the boy.”
Sheila responded using a phrase Sebastian didn’t understand, and Merv ended up apologizing. A few minutes later, Bindi came into the dining room with a plate piled high with cooked animal parts. Sebastian hungrily tucked into the food. Bindi was about to sit when her mother called her to the kitchen. She harrumphed her way back.
After Sebastian had finished, he took his plate to the sink.
“No need for that, love,” Sheila said.
“My mother said I should always take the plate to the kitchen and clean up if someone else made the dinner.”
“She sounds like a very wise woman who’s raising a fine young man.”
Sebastian blushed.
The sink was unattended, so he placed the plate in the hot water and washed it. Bindi leaped over with the dishcloth. She tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled at him. He took the plate out of the water and Bindi clutched at it, deliberately touching his hands. She stood there for a moment. Sebastian looked awkwardly at Sheila. Sheila smiled. He pulled his hands away and made a dash for the door.
Outside, Sebastian took a deep breath and dried his hands on his tunic. Grinding and hammering of metalwork bounced out from the shed. He walked over, pausing to gaze at Bruce and Brenda’s SUV, before entering the cavernous space. Sparks flew from behind Merv as he bent over a polishing machine. His leg furiously pumped away on a pedal, and a small spinning wheel rotated against a piece of curved plating. He looked up and gave Sebastian a nod.
Merv kept modifying the metal, pushing here, pulling there, trimming everywhere, occasionally glancing over at Sebastian. Finally, Merv called him over and tested the sheets against his body. Bindi came in and watched them quietly.
Sebastian sat on the long wooden bench that took up most of one wall. Bindi sat next to him. She was very close. She fluttered her fan. He slowly moved away. She moved along the bench. She gave him a shy glance. He moved a little further along. She moved next to him again, and slowly reached out for his hand. He quickly slid along further. He hadn’t paid attention to where the bench ended, so he toppled over the end and crashed into the buckets.
Merv glanced over and chuckled.
“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” Bindi said. “Are you all right? Do you need TLC? The kiss of life?”
“I’m all right,” shrieked Sebastian. He held up his hands in defense.
Merv straightened up. He held up his work and rotated it in his hands. Its shine was fierce. “I reckon we’re just about there. Bindi, go tell your mother I need the silk.”
Bindi gave her father a sullen look, wheeled around, and stormed off back to the house. A few moments later, Sheila arrived with a large pile of glossy white material.
“It’s my wedding dress,” she said. “I won’t be needing it anymore, now that I have my Merv.”
“Bloody right, woman. You’s better not be gettin’ any ideas runnin’ off with some young jack or I’ll have your legs off.” He waved his axe comically.
“Oh, Merv, you’re so romantic.” They embraced in a very long kiss.
Sebastian scratched his scalp and then examined his fingernails. Eventually they disentangled.
“Sheila, you’s the only one for me. Oh, the boy.”
Merv carefully cut a slim strip of silk from the base of the dress and rubbed it over the metal. His face was a mask of concentration as he painstakingly went over every part of the metal until it gleamed in the early morning sun. Sheila stood next to him, beaming at his expert handiwork, pointing out bits he had missed.
Merv picked up the piece and gave it a final inspection. He looked at Sheila, who nodded. “Finished. Okay, sport, over here and pop off your tunic.”
Sebastian removed it and folded it neatly on the bench.
“Can I get you to teach Bindi how to do that?” Sheila said. “She just leaves her clothes crumpled all over the floor.”
Sebastian smiled. It was another thing his mother went on and on and on about. Remembering her reminded him of how much he was missing her. He felt his insides tighten, but being fitted with armor was not the time to be emotional.
“It’s very light,” he said, as Merv fastened it around him.
“Yeah, good, isn’t it? Keep it under your tunic. Concealed, but comfortable.”
“He looks so handsome, like a little knight in shining armor,” said Sheila.
“The sheilas’ll love it. Case in point,” Merv said. He gave Sebastian a mischievous grin and winked. “I guess that’s about it. I’ll get the horse sorted and we can get going.”
Sebastian felt a little disappointed, as he secretly hoped he could ride in the SUV. Merv disappeared, then reappeared a few moments later with a huge black stallion in tow. He smoothed a blanket over its back and threw on a saddle. As he was tightening the cinch, Sheila and Bindi appeared.
Sheila was carrying a small backpack. She handed it to Sebastian. “You can’t leave here without any food. People may say things about our hospitality.” She gave him a warm smile.
Bindi burst into tears and gave him a big hug. Unsure of what to do, he delicately patted her sides.
Merv handed Sebastian his tunic, then heaved him up onto the blanket in front of the saddle. “Back in a moment, loves,” Merv said, as he forced his foot into the stirrup and swung up easily into the saddle.
“Sure you want him in front, love?” Sheila said.
“Best place to keep him protected,” replied Merv. “He can grab an ice pack at the other end if he gets a bit tender.”
“You take care of yourself, sport,” said Sheila.
“I will, love,” Merv replied.
“I meant him, you drongo.” She gave Sebastian another smile.
“I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done,” Sebastian told her. “You’ve given so much and all I’ve done is take. I hope one day to be able to repay you for your kindness.”
“Don’t sweat it. You’s certainly livened up the place. Right, Bindi?”
Bindi ran off back to the house, wailing all the way.
“We better head out, love,” Merv said.
Sheila patted him on his thigh. “Be safe.”
Merv wheeled the horse around, then spurred it out through the gates.
6
THEY TROTTED ALONG the dirt tracks beside the huge pipes that conveyed water through the dry heart. After they had been riding for a while, Sebastian said, “Merv?”
“Yeah, sport?”
“What if they do come back?”
“Being honest, the way I see it, they’re after you. Which is bad. But you’s can sort of sense them. Which is good. I’ve never seen anythin’ like it. It’s like you’s a new kind of person with special powers.” He laughed. Sebastian didn’t respond. “Don’t worry about us. Best is to check on you’s mother, see how she’s holdin’ up in Toowoomba.”
“The last thing I got from her was an instruction to go to the Academy. She wouldn’t have told me to go there if it wasn’t important.”
“The Steam Academy? Out at Isa? Joshuz, that’s a long way. It might be important, but is it right? I’m not tellin’ you how to live you’s life, but I’d want to know about my mother.”
Sebastian sat in silence.
To while away the time, Merv recited some of the classic poems his mother had forced him, at knifepoint, to learn. He explained that it wasn’t as bad as it sounded. In a house of blades, she was large of heart and bosom, long on discipline, and short on shirking off chopping the wood.
Halfway through the epic Cloudstreet drama, they hit the outskirts of New Toowoomba. It was the biggest city Sebastian had ever seen, and boasted a population of over eight thousand people. They entered through the valleys, across a pass that was an occasional floodplain. The houses were built on tall poles to keep them safe when the water came through. As they r
ose into the hills, the buildings became plentiful.
In the center of the city, at the highest point, was a massive building. It had an impressive tower that had a clock on each of the four faces. Three of the clocks were working.
“Just in time for lunch,” Merv said. “Little Tracey’s about to chime. You’s can dig into the tucker the girls made.”
And, on cue, long booming clangs rang forth from the bells, deafening everyone in close proximity. Merv dismounted as they reached the front steps of the station. The stone steps led up to the glass doors underneath a great brass dome. People from all walks of life streamed through the doors. The clangs echoed away as the sounds bounced off the nearby hills.
“Folks say this place is a thousand years old,” Merv said. “It survived the Reckoning. Hasn’t changed a bit. Endured everythin’ except poor maintenance, so it’s been rebuilt a dozen times.”
He lifted Sebastian off the horse, placed him gently on the ground and ruffled his hair.
“Thank you for everything, Merv. I hope I can meet you under better conditions in the future.”
Merv swung himself back up onto the horse. “No worries, sport. You learn on the land that most things are uncertain, but that’s okay. Look forward to meetin’ you’s again. I’d join you’s, but the rains’ll be comin’ soon and I gotta get the crops in before the big wet. The community’s gonna need the contribution this year ’cause Barry’s got his bad leg and Trev’s back’s been out.”
Sebastian nodded, but he knew the real reason Merv wanted to get back. Protection of the family came first.
“Best way to Isa’s on the express train,” Merv explained. “It’s a bit pricier, but it’ll get you’s there in a couple of days instead of a week. I urge you’s to rethink. Go to Toowoomba.”
“But, Merv, I don’t have any money.”
“Check your pockets, kiddo. Good luck, Seb, I’ll be thinkin’ of you.” He tapped his finger to his Akubra and wheeled the horse around. He dug his heels into the sides of the great beast and took off back to his family with a determined look on his face.
Sebastian checked the pockets of his tunic. He found shy of a hundred dollars scattered through them, in notes and coins. And a letter from Bindi written on pink paper with lots of x’s at the end. He didn’t want to read the detail yet, so he placed it in his chest pocket, beside his mother’s letter, next to his heart.
Sebastian slung the pack over his shoulder and marched up the large stone steps. People jostled him as he entered the large doors. The expanse inside was impressive. It was the biggest indoor space he’d seen, and it dwarfed him. He was pushed aside as travelers fought their way through. He estimated that every building in his town could fit within the confines of the walls of the station.
Three train lines were evenly spaced across the area, each heading directly out through the opening on the far side. The roof was epic, the brass dome reaching all the way across the other side where the trains exited the building. Along each side were dozens of small shops selling an array of supplies. Tables were scattered liberally throughout the center of the space. People were sitting at them, drinking tea or eating lunch.
Trains released steam, whistles were blowing, and conductors were shouting. And people were everywhere. Nearby was a booth with TICKETS displayed on a sign above the window.
Sebastian joined the queue. The destinations were scrawled on the chalk board behind the counter. On the top was Isa with 12:15 - Waratah written next to it. The second listed was Toowoomba - Endeavour. It didn’t have a time. He stared at the names as he approached the head of the line.
“A ticket to Isa, … no, Toowoomba on the express train, please.”
The old man slowly glanced over his shoulder before returning his withered stare back to Sebastian. “Train’s delayed.”
“Why?”
“Trouble on the line. S’closed.” He chewed his lip while squinting at Sebastian.
“When will it run?”
“Dunno. A few hours, maybe a day. Track has been disrupted.”
Sebastian threw his hands in the air. He wasn’t giving up. “One for the next Toowoomba train.”
The old man behind the counter gave him a look of suspicion. “You traveling on your own?”
“Yes. I’m going to meet my mother.”
“Hmm. It’ll be forty dollars for the Endeavour. Forty-five if you want water.” He dragged a stained and wrinkled hand over his chin.
“It says thirty dollars there.” Sebastian indicated the sign displaying the prices.
“You want a ticket or not?”
Sebastian counted out the amount using the largest of the notes.
The old man scooped up the money and issued the ticket. “When the Endeavour gets here it’ll be on platform one, once the Waratah leaves.” He pointed vaguely and without much enthusiasm across to the other side of the station. “Enjoy your wait.”
“When it gets here? What am I meant to do?”
The old man shrugged. “Get a hotel. Or sleep on the platform with the others.”
Sebastian snatched the ticket and headed away. The signs at the end of each platform counted down from four, but ended at two. He couldn’t see platform one anywhere.
He pulled on a passing man’s sleeve. “Excuse me, sir.”
“Yes, son, I don’t have any spare money.”
The elderly gentleman was dressed formally in a tailcoat and top hat. He wore a monocle that magnified his eye. If Sebastian hadn’t been disoriented by his circumstances he may have found the freakish nature of the different-sized eyes cool.
“Could you tell me where platform one is?”
“Certainly,” the elderly man replied. He pointed to one side of the cavernous exit. “Go to the side, then turn right. It’s outside. You’d better catch up with your parents before the Waratah leaves.” He smiled.
Sebastian smiled back and made his way to the long platform outside. It disappeared off into the distance. It was drier out here. Sun umbrellas populated the expanse of bricks and stones, each fully occupied by those seeking relief. The humidity had been replaced by a fierce, unrelenting sun, capable of killing an unwise and unprepared man in a day. Summer was still weeks away and with it was the big wet, the only relief the dry heart received from the eternal sun until the hot winter rolled around again. And this place needed it more than most.
The platform was packed with people preparing for the Waratah’s departure. Between the bodies, he caught flashes of brass and steel. Men stalked about in their britches and top hats, and the women fanned themselves as sweat ran down their backs, absorbed by the thick material of their Vesta blouses and Vivien fishtail skirts. Most of them were modern women, fighting for equality, ready to shake the world to its foundations at the Academy. Sebastian had heard some of the men back home say unpleasant things about them. Here they were standing in groups, talking behind fans, then hushing as someone deemed unworthy or suspicious passed by.
A pile of baggage was developing at the end of the platform. Workers, too cheap to fork out for a hotel, were bedding down to wait for the Endeavour. They were unassuming people, workers of the land. The difference between the two sets of passengers heading off in opposite directions said everything you needed to know about the destinations. Sebastian felt a little sad. The Academy travelers seemed exciting, full of opportunity. The workers reminded him of home. Hard working people, but never dreamed outside their town borders. He’d hoped to go to the Academy one day.
Two conductors appeared behind him, blowing their whistles, herding the people along the platform. He heard the blast of the air horn from the train. It was time to board. The travelers split into queues to enter an appropriate carriage. The crowd thinned, revealing for the first time, the locomotive in all its glory. He stepped back, amazed by the sight of the Waratah.
7
THE TRAIN HAD a sloped front that rolled onto a long, flat top. Every part of it was swept back, giving the impression of speed, even whe
n stationary. Sebastian felt it was alive, and longed for nothing more than to sprint into the horizon. Its skin was a combination of steel and bronze, dazzling in the sun.
He reached out and ran his hand over the surface of the metal. WARATAH was emblazoned on the side. It was warm to the touch, but not overly. Sebastian stroked his hand over it until an angry engineer shouted at him from the cockpit to keep his hands to himself. He guiltily retracted his hand and placed it in his pocket.
Another ringing blast of the air horn was followed by the platform conductor calling for all to board. He would have loved to have traveled on it. Sebastian wandered back into the station finding a winding path around the last minute travelers dashing for the train. The bustling wore him down and he moved into the center of the station, standing still among the chaotic action. His gaze drifted over the spectacular roof and followed the line to the front doors. The people streamed through in an endless ballet of courtesy. His eyes snapped open wide as he gasped. A man walked in wearing an Akubra, and Sebastian instantly thought of Merv. Then his mouth dropped open. The man slinking in through the main entrance, wrapped in a Drizabone riding coat, was the diminutive man from Talinga who spoke to Ratty. And from this angle, he could plainly see it was Prevaricator Oakley. He held up a small box with a stick pointing out the top and scanned the room.
Sebastian quickly made his way back to the platform, hoping to hide among the people.
“There he is. Grab him,” Prevaricator shouted. Sebastian fled as the men chased after him, sprinting through the crowd, ducking in between the travelers. He pulled over luggage stacked into precarious towers, tumbling over the platform. Annoyed shouts echoed out as the passengers picked up their scattered cases, just as Prevaricator charged into them.
Sebastian ran to the first door, yanked it open and clambered into the carriage. It was the first time he had been in powered transport.
He hid low in the first available seat, pretending to tie up his shoe laces. The young couple next to him chatted. “I have heard the express trains travel at nearly two hundred miles an hour,” said the young man.