Copper Cove

by Robert Dahlen

  I watched as a half dozen teapots rolled towards me. Elgin twisted her hands and spoke under her breath. I saw she wore ten rings, one on each finger, and I realized that was how she was controlling her ceramic forces.

  The teapots shot corks towards me, and again I threw up my arms just in time. Jets of steam struck me in the stomach, and I staggered back. I had seen the rope coiled around Elgin’s shoulder, and I knew she would use it on me once I was incapacitated. I struggled with the fear of being caught and turned in, and it was only magnified when I thought of Sophie. Had she set me up? Was this her plan all along? Did the guilds—

  “Pardon me?”

  I looked up and saw Sophie hurrying down the sidewalk towards Elgin. “What the devil?” the enforcer said, lowering her hands. The Breakfast Brigade halted in its tracks.

  Sophie took Elgin’s hand and shook it firmly before Elgin could react. “Good afternoon! I’m Sophronia Haverford, and I’m a reporter for the Courant.”

  “Wha?” Elgin gaped at Sophie.

  “I’m conducting research for an article on independent crafters. Might I take a moment of your time to discuss this?”

  “Look, this is not—”

  “Splendid!” Sophie moved in front of Elgin, blocking her view of me. “Can I get your name, or would you prefer to remain anonymous?”

  “I—”

  “You’re with the Clockwork Consortium, right?”

  Elgin tried to peer around Sophie. “Look, I’m a little bit busy at the moment—”

  “Have you been working in guild enforcement for long?”

  “I’m in the middle of—”

  “Is it true you’ve caused the destruction of three research laboratories?”

  “Enough!” Elgin waved her arms above her head, her frustration visible and audible. “Back off!” I could see the teapots turning and moving towards her; I quickly stepped out of their way.

  “I am with the press,” Sophie said calmly. She lifted a leg to let a teapot pass underneath her dress; it joined the others as they surrounded Elgin. “I’m just trying to get the story.”

  “Get it somewhere else!” Elgin screamed.

  “But—”

  “Go away!” Elgin raised her hands again. “Now!” The rings she wore all started to glow.

  The Breakfast Brigade followed her command and opened fire on her. She shrieked and doubled over as the steam jets scorched her robe and the corks pummeled her face and arms.

  “It looks like I came at a bad time,” Sophie said. “I’ll leave you to your business. Have a pleasant evening.” She tipped her hat and quickly scurried over to me as Elgin cursed me, Sophie, our families, our friends, and everyone else within a ten mile radius.

  We sprinted out of the alley and away from Elgin as fast as we could. We stopped a minute later, catching our breath. I glanced at Sophie and raised an eyebrow. “I thought reporters weren’t supposed to get involved in their stories,” I said.

  “I was on my afternoon tea break.” Sophie winked.

  “Thank you.” I smiled as we set off again for the pub. “First round’s on me tonight.”

  It was the dinner hour when we reached the Crabby Kraken, and the crowd was, as usual, large, hungry and thirsty. Sophie and I made our way to the bar, where I saw the empty stool next to the slouched figure in the red and gold robe. “Is that him?” Sophie asked.

  “It is.” I walked up to the bar. “Neil!”

  He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Evening, Tabitha. Busy day?”

  “Quite.” I hopped onto the empty stool.

  “Did tromping about with that reporter go well?”

  “You can ask her yourself.” I grinned.

  “What?” Neil stared blankly at me.

  Sophie stood next to me and extended her hand towards Neil. “Sophronia Haverford. Pleased to meet you.”

  Neil sat motionless. “The hand?” I stage-whispered. He did not budge.

  Sophie pulled her hand back. “I was hoping to talk to you for a minute about independent crafters, so I could get a perspective from a guild member.”

  “I…” Neil jumped up from his stool and downed his ale. “I have to go.”

  “Neil?” I said softly.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Tabitha.” Neil shot towards the door, bumping into other patrons in his haste to leave.

  Sophie blinked. “Was it something I did?”

  I sighed. “It’s not you, Sophie. Neil has odd ideas about things, like the Courant.”

  “How so?”

  “The phrase ‘elitist trash’ comes to mind. His words, mind you, not mine.”

  Sophie nodded and looked away. “Sometimes,” she said softly, “I wish we didn’t have to run the stories we do to sell newspapers. It does make it harder to earn people’s trust.”

  “Not mine.” I smiled at Sophie, and was surprised at my disappointment when she failed to notice.

  “Miles?” I glanced back at the bar and saw Thorton, the gnome who worked the evening shift. “Did you want the usual tonight?”

  “Actually…” I looked at the clock by the door. “Can I get that to take away?”

  Sophie and I stopped a few yards away from the Crabby Kraken. “So…” I quickly wracked my brain for the right words. “Do you have everything?”

  “I’ll need to review my notes,” Sophie said. “I do think I should play it safe and arrange to meet with you tomorrow.”

  “What time, then?”

  “First thing?”

  I was almost set to agree, but the thought I’d been trying to push aside most of the day reared up. “Not that early,” I told Sophie. “I have my meeting with my client.”

  “Oh.” Sophie seemed to be pouting.

  “And…” I drew a breath and tried not t0 sound harsh. “I can’t risk having you show up again. I just can’t. I’ll lose everything if you do.”

  “I do understand. It’s funny how things work out sometimes.”

  “Pardon?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “I do believe that while you’re meeting with your client, I’ll be interviewing representatives of both guilds about the independent crafter issue.” Sophie smiled slightly. “And I did agree to give you a chance to review and respond to their comments.”

  “Shall we do that over lunch at Henry’s Crossing? Say, at noon?”

  “That would work nicely.”

  “Perfect. But I should get home and eat before I work on my commission.”

  “And I need to check in at the newsroom.”

  “Until tomorrow, then?” I smiled at Sophie.

  She smiled back at me. I could feel my heart stop for a moment. Damn it. “Until tomorrow. Good night, Tabitha.”

  “Good night, Sophie,” I murmured.

  Sophie scratched Darjeeling between her ears, said another good night directed at her, and headed off down the street, looking for a cab. I watched her walk away for a moment before I started for home.

  It was another late night in my workshop. Fueled by dinner, a fresh pot of tea, and concern over the next day’s meeting, I crafted like a madwoman. I attached a lightweight mesh over the openings in the lattice, checked to make sure the frame still moved at the joints, and reviewed the blueprint to make sure everything was still going according to plan.

  I was up almost until midnight again, but at least I remembered to set the alarm clock to get me up in time for the meeting with my client. I settled into bed, blew out the lantern and closed my eyes as Darjeeling snuggled next to me.

  Without any effort or thought on my part, my mind filled with images of Sophie. Her lovely eyes, the way she walked, her jokes, how she helped me escape from Elgin...

  Her smile. Her sweet, slightly wry, beautiful smile.

  I had to admit to myself that I did fancy Sophie, more than I had fancied anyone in a long time.

  Damn it.

  The alarm clock seemed to sound too early the next morning, even though it was set for eight. This was entirely due to my think
ing about Sophie for a large part of the night, and not being able to get to sleep swiftly as a result. Thankfully, there was breakfast in the icebox, and tea does not take that long to prepare.

  I was soon back in my workshop. I reviewed the blueprints again, seeing what I might have missed in the previous evening’s work. I made some quick adjustments, then I drew another copy of the blueprint showing my progress. It would be close, but if I didn’t have any requests for my services for the rest of the day, I felt confident that I could finish by Friday morning.

  It was nice to have something that I could be confident in, for I was far less confident about Sophie. I tried not to think about it as I left my flat and traveled to where I was to meet my client, but my mind kept going back to her.

  I kept replaying every moment of our time together, all her words and actions. There were many of them that gave me cause to believe that she might fancy me as much as I did her, but then I would rethink them and decide that I was wrong. Possible suitor? Friend? A source for an article and nothing more? What was I to her? Did she even fancy women?

  But what nagged at me even more was wondering what I could be for her. Sophie already had everything. She was smart and pretty, she had a great job. She was classy. What could someone like that see in a ragamuffin such as myself? What did I have to offer her? I kept coming back to that, and I felt my heart sink when the answer I had was nothing.

  It was almost a relief when I neared Chimera Street and could worry about something else for a change. I was early for my appointment, which gave me time to prepare myself and not get the willies over whether or not my client would show up. I heard the clocks in the Ticking Tower chime out the hour in the distance, and I started to worry, but as the last chime faded I saw him approaching.

  He walked up to me, his eyes fixed on me. “You came alone?” he said.

  I heard the harshness in his voice and tried not to blush. “I did,” I said.

  “I was highly disturbed when we were interrupted on Tuesday. This is a confidential commission. I expect it to stay that way, even when your work is concluded.”

  His tone was off-putting, but I couldn’t let that get to me. “I understand,” I said quietly.

  “Do you have something to show me?”

  I pulled the blueprint I had drawn earlier and handed it to him. “I expect to complete this tonight,” I said.

  “Excellent.” He pocketed the blueprint. “We’ll meet here tomorrow, at the same time. You’ll be given instructions on where the commission is to be delivered. You will be paid upon delivery.”

  “I understand.”

  “You are to wait here for five minutes. Do not attempt to follow me. I will see you on Friday.”

  He turned and walked away. I did fume a bit as I waited, but I fought it down. He might be a mean-hearted so and so, but it was his commission, and I needed to swallow my pride and follow his rules to collect my three hundred crowns.

  It was a long five minutes before I headed out of the alley, exhaling the breath I hadn’t been aware I was holding. One task was done. It was time to head for a more pleasant one.

  I reached Henry’s Crossing before the lunchtime rush had started. I opened the door and peered hopefully through it.

  Sophie was not there.

  With a faint sigh, I stepped inside and walked up to the counter. I wasn’t sure if I should order for her or not, so I decided not to as I got in the queue. She could order when she arrived, after she finished her morning interviews. Assuming she’s still coming, I thought.

  “Miles?” I saw Amee walking up to me. “Don’t order yet.”

  I blinked. “Why?”

  “Your friend Sophronia called. She left this message for you.”

  The sprite handed me a slip of paper. I opened it, read the note, and looked up at Amee. “I’d best get my sandwich to take away,” I said.

  I climbed off the omnibus in front of City Hall and shook my head. My last visit, even in Sophie’s company, had stirred unpleasant memories, and I winced at possibly having to revisit them again. Still, it was a chance to see Sophie, so I pushed those thoughts aside as best as I could as I walked inside and tried to recall what I’d read and heard about Archibald Strom.

  He was one of many who had moved from Copper Cove’s landed gentry into politics, having used connections to get a job in the Ministry of Transportation. He had been one of the early proponents of the new rail line, and his stock had risen along with it. He had been named the Minister three years ago, and had used his position to work on issues from the growing use of motorcars to expanding the omnibus system. His actions did help improve the quality of life in the city, but there were hints of scandal in the bidding process for contracts.

  I’d read in the Courant, in one of Sophie’s articles, that Strom was interested in higher office, possibly the Mayor’s desk. He denied it, in that manner of speaking that indicated that he was all set to run when the time was right. Politicians.

  Storm’s office was with the other ministries, in the northern wing, near where Sophie had interviewed Whitlock on Wednesday. I was not looking forward to having to sit on those couches again, but I saw Sophie and realized it was worth it, and that my knees were suddenly so weak that I needed a seat anyway.

  Sophie was studying a notebook intently as I walked up to her. She looked up and smiled, and between that smile and the gorgeous lavender dress she was wearing, my heart stopped for a moment. Damn it. “Good afternoon, Tabitha!” she said.

  “Good afternoon,” I said as I sat on the couch, a discreet distance away from her. Darjeeling jumped off my shoulder and curled up between me and Tabitha. “How did the interview go?”

  “It hasn’t started yet.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Sophie stretched, which did some interesting things to my pulse rate. “I’ve been waiting for over an hour. Strom’s secretary says he’s in last-minute meetings about Saturday’s premiere trip.”

  “So why do you need to interview him? Is this part of the Courant’s coverage?”

  “Yes,” Sophie said, in a voice loud and pointed enough that I picked up on her hint. There was something else going on, and I suspected it would be best for me not to pry any further.

  “Any idea how much longer you’ll be waiting?” I said.

  “The secretary believes that the meeting should be ending at any time. At least I have something to keep me busy now.”

  “And what would that be?” I knew the likely answer, but I still held out hope.

  Sophie held up her notebook. “My interviews with the guild representatives. I suspect you’ll have a few things to say about them.”

  “I will. Be advised that some of it may not be printable.”

  “I’ll edit as necessary.” Sophie tapped the notebook with her pen. “Shall we?”

  “Let’s.” I edged closer to Sophie. As I did, I glanced at the lamp on the end table next to where she sat. It was flickering, glowing brightly for one moment, dimming slightly for another.

  Sophie glanced at her notebook, then up at me. “The guild members I spoke to basically said the same thing. They insist that their control over the sale and repair of devices ensures public safety without sacrificing competition or further advancement.”

  “Hogwash.”

  Sophie raised an eyebrow. “I was expecting your response to be…”

  “Longer?”

  “And more profane.”

  “Sophie, my first trainer was my father, and he was in the Fellowship of Brass for most of his life. Then, I studied with Rostall, one of the great inventors. I’ve been crafting for years, and I’m good at what I do. Just ask my clients!”

  “I never said you weren’t,” Sophie said.

  “I know, but I bet the guild representatives did.”

  Sophie checked her notes. “Not specifically about you, but about renegade crafters in general.”

  “Did they mention how outrageous their fees are?”

/>   “No, but you’re about to.” Sophie grinned and readied her pen.

  I jumped up from the couch, startling Darjeeling. “Pensioners and poor people can’t afford the guilds, Sophie! Parts, labor, service call charge, surtax, it all adds up! And they need what the guild makes to survive.”

  “The guilds say that they need to pay their staff.”

  I snorted as I paced around the couch, stopping by the lamp. “They need to line their pockets! They work the journeymen and apprentices half to death and pay them pittances! And some of them shouldn’t even be holding a wrench!”

  “Not everyone has your sensing skill,” Sophie said.

  “Or my sense of design! Look at this lamp!”

  Sophie turned towards the end table. “The bulb seems to be having a problem,” she said as the lamp flickered.

  “And that is an issue, but so is the design. It’s plain! Boring! It’s as if it was knocked off by someone who was late for lunch!”

  “But it works.”

  “It does, but they could have taken a few extra minutes to make it look less plain.” I touched the lamp near the base. “Even a bit of tapering would…”

  My voice trailed off as my sensing kicked in. Cogs and gears, I thought.

  Sophie stood up and eyed the lamp. “You do have a point,” she said. “Maybe a different shade would work.”

  I was frozen in place as I stared at the lamp. I couldn’t put a finger on it, but there was something wrong with it, dreadfully wrong. I could feel goosebumps. My hand started to tingle.

  “Tabitha?” Sophie asked. “Is everything all right?”

  I grabbed Sophie and pulled her down to the floor, shielding her as best as I could. “No,” I said as I reached up and yanked Darjeeling off the couch.

  Everything was still for a moment. Sophie glared at me. “Was this really necessary?” she said sharply, staring over my shoulder at the end table.

  I heard a loud hum, rising in pitch. Sophie’s eyes widened.

  The lamp exploded. Shards of glass and ceramic shot through the air, and a spray of hot dwimm-infused water scorched the couch where Sophie had sat. “I guess it was,” I said, my voice shaking.