Arcadia Snips and the Steamwork Consortium

by Robert Rodgers

  ~*~

  CHAPTER 19: IN WHICH OUR TITULAR PROTAGONIST LEARNS OF THE DAFFODIL SCION'S GRANDMOTHER, COUNT ORWICK DISCUSSES KINGSMEN, AND MRS. DAFFODIL MAKES HER INTENTIONS CLEAR

  ~*~

  "It was difficult, growing up with everyone around you knowing your parents were villains," William said.

  "Huh," Snips replied, her hands shoved down deep into her pockets. "Kids gave you lip over it?"

  "Sometimes. Most of them were convinced that I was plotting to build some sort of devastating steam-powered automaton to wreck the school with," William said.

  "Heh."

  "Which is fair, since I actually was."

  Snips froze in mid-step, the sole of her shoe hovering over the cobblestone. "I beg your pardon?"

  William cleared his throat as heat surged into his cheeks.

  "Well, I mean—I wouldn't have. But mad science, well... You must understand, Miss Snips. It's in our blood. My father was a mad scientist, my mother was a mad scientist, my grandmother a mad scientist, my grandfather a mad scientist..."

  "Right. So." Snips squinted one eye and popped the other open wide, leaning forward to inspect William closely. "You're telling me every so often you feel the urge to terrorize the city from the seat of some mechanical monstrosity?"

  William drew back defensively. "No!"

  "Oh. Well, okay, then."

  "I mean, I'd much prefer a dirigible, anyway."

  " I beg your pardon?!"

  "Not that I would!" William threw his hands up in front of him. "Never, ever! I stick with mathematics—with theory. I mean, I don't want to have an episode, like my grandmother did."

  "Wait. Episode? Like your grandmother did? Exactly where are we going, again?"

  "Erm, well—that's a bit of a funny story," William said, smiling apprehensively.

  ~*~

  Napsbury Asylum, Snips decided, was precisely where she wanted to be put once she went off the deep-end.

  It was a pleasant looking brick building that, under different circumstances, could easily have been mistaken for a very rich man's house. Snips walked behind William, who seemed to be growing more and more depressed with every step towards the front door.

  "You don't have to actually meet her," William said. "I mean—"

  "After the stories you just told me about her? You bloody well better believe I have to meet her," Snips said.

  "I just don’t want to frighten you with my family history,"

  William said.

  "Trust me, you won’t."

  William sighed, slumping as he stepped through the door.

  Snips quickly followed, grinning all the way.

  Various people throughout the asylum wing were dressed down for the birthday, wearing brightly colored hats and sitting in their seats. There were several trays of food set out, and an extraordinary number of cats meandering around the scene.

  The centerpiece of the event was a slim middle-aged man with a bushy moustache and a look so full of serene cheer that Snips had a hard time imagining he was a patient. He looked more like a man who had finally discovered his place in the world—

  plus, his cake was carved in the shape of a brown tabby.

  "Hello, Mr. Wanewright," William said, removing a small wrapped package from his coat. He sat it besides the growing pile of presents that were placed at the man's left. "A pleasure to see you once again."

  Mr. Wanewright smiled; the expression was pure sunshine.

  "Oh, hullo, Mr. Daffodil. A pleasure to meet you again! Have you met Professor Snugglewuggums?" He reached forward, picking up a nearby black cat and holding him up for William to greet. It was only now that Snips realized that every cat in the room had some sort of accoutrement to it—an article of clothing or fashion that had somehow been cleverly attached to them. Professor Snugglewuggums had a top hat and monocle.

  "No, I'm afraid I haven't," William said, suppressing a sigh.

  He reached forward to take Professor Snugglewuggums' paw, giving it a shake. "A pleasure to meet you, Professor."

  The cat meowed.

  "Oh, dear, he's quite taken with you." Mr. Wanewright exclaimed, setting the cat down. "Very good, Mr. Daffodil. Very good!"

  Growing very uncomfortable, William quickly smiled and slipped back into the crowd of partygoers. Snips followed, glancing back over her shoulder.

  "So, is that guy—"

  "Criminally insane? Yes," William said. "I'd rather not explain the details. Suffice it to say there was an incident involving a very loud tax-collector and several dozen very hungry cats."

  Snips grimaced.

  Mrs. Daffodil emerged from the crowd to greet William; the old woman instantly looked between him and Snips and produced a dazzling smile. "Oh, William, is this lady a friend of yours?"

  "This is, ah, yes. A friend of mine. She works for a detective agency," William said, gesturing to her. "Miss Snips, this is my grandmother, Mrs. Daffodil."

  "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Snips," she said, taking the thief's hand. "You have extraordinary taste in clothing."

  "Uh, thanks," Snips said.

  "I can't help but notice you're not wearing my sweater, William," Mrs. Daffodil said. "Don't you like it?"

  "Oh, you know, I'm terribly sorry," William said, smiling nervously. "I completely forgot about it."

  "That's a shame," Mrs. Daffodil said. "Anyway, I'm very glad you could come to the party. Would you mind being a dear and getting me a slice of cake?"

  Arcadia Snips and William Daffodil are formally introduced to Professor Snugglewuggums.

  "Sure," William said, stepping back toward the table. For a moment, Snips and Mrs. Daffodil were alone.

  Snips noticed she hadn't let go of Snips' hand. Her grip was, in fact, uncomfortably strong.

  "Uh, anyway, I'm just, you know, happy to meet you,"

  Snips began. "William’s told me a little bit about you."

  "Has he?" Mrs. Daffodil said. "He hasn’t mentioned anything about you."

  "Oh, well," Snips said. "I mean, I guess I’d expect that. We only met yesterday, you know. He’s a very nice fellow," she quickly added.

  "Oh, yes. He's quite good-natured," Mrs. Daffodil quickly agreed. "You know, I'm very good at measuring a person's character at a glance, Miss Snips."

  "Are you?" Snips shuffled, suddenly nervous.

  "Yes," she said, and her grip tightened to steel. "Miss Snips, I may be old and senile, but I can still smell a fink from a mile off.

  I don't know what your angle is, and I don't care. But before you play my grandson like a third-rate fiddle, I want you to know something." Her voice dropped to a dreadful whisper:

  "I'm not in here because I shoplifted, or forgot to feed my cats, or otherwise acted like a naughty little minx. I'm here because I built things. Terrible things. Horrible things, Miss Snips. And so help me God, if you so much as put a dent in my dear little boy's heart, I will unleash a mechanized Armageddon upon you that would cow the Devil himself."

  Snips blinked, stared, and swallowed. "Uh..."

  William returned, a plate of cake in hand. "Here you go, grandmother."

  Instantly, the icy aura vanished beneath a mask of warm affability. Mrs. Daffodil took the slice with a broad, motherly smile, releasing Snips' hand. "Thank you, William. You're such a dear."

  "Are you two getting along, then?" William asked.

  "Smashingly," Mrs. Daffodil said.

  "Oh, uh, yeah," Snips responded, scratching at the back of her head. "Yeah, she's, uh, quite something, your grandmum."

  "Well, I have to be off, anyway," William said. "I hope you don't mind, grandmother. I have an appointment to keep." He threw a nervous look at Snips, but she appeared too distracted to notice.

  "Of course not, dear," Mrs. Daffodil said. "Just try to remember to come by a little more often, hm?"

  William nodded.

  "Oh, and feel free to bring your friend, too," she added, throwing a meaningful look Snips' way. "I'd love to hear more abou
t her."

  ~*~

  "Are you familiar with the Kingsmen, Miss Primrose?"

  Orwick asked, staring out of his office window and toward his trains.

  "No, sir, I do not believe I am," Miss Primrose said, shifting in her seat. "However, I am not here to discuss historical trivia. I have a matter of great urgency—"

  "They're a fascinating organization," Count Orwick said, cutting her off. "Dissolved by royal mandate over four decades ago. Founded a century prior by one of our less esteemed monarchs, they performed all manner of horrible crimes and obscenities in the name of maintaining the power and prestige of the Crown."

  "Ah," Miss Primrose said, not without disdain.

  "Government-sanctioned assassins."

  "No, no," Orwick replied. "Nothing so base. Indeed, if that was all they were, I would find them far less fascinating. No, the Kingsmen were knights, but they were knights of a peculiar breed.

  They were given no extraordinary rights, no powers of law, no official capacity. They were simply informed of the situation and told to do what they felt they must."

  Miss Primrose frowned. Count Orwick always struck her as an awful sort of person; she dealt with him only out of the necessity of dealing with one's client. This entire conversation of his was absolutely confounding, and merely serving to reinforce her impression of the man. "Count Orwick, I've come here to tell you about Mr. Eddington. We believe he may be involved in serious matters of—"

  "They broke the law, Miss Primrose. Killed, assassinated, stole, so on. But they were not above it," Orwick explained. "They were given no official orders to do so, and if they were caught in the act, they were brought to justice just as readily as any real criminal. They were, in short, the vigilantes of the Crown."

  Miss Primrose stiffened in her chair.

  "How is Miss Snips performing? I hope she is not causing you too much trouble."

  Miss Primrose's lips thinned into a line. "None at all, sir,"

  she said, trying to contain her agitation.

  "Well enough," Orwick said, turning back around to face Miss Primrose. "As for your case, I'm afraid we have encountered a problem. I am not sure how, but overnight, we have received several very angry letters from very important people demanding we close this matter immediately."

  "I was unaware Her Majesty is subject to the approval of her peers," Miss Primrose said.

  "I’m afraid that she sometimes is, yes. Especially when those peers are as important as these," Orwick noted. "She has commanded me to cease with my little investigation into Copper's demise. And without royal mandate, I am outside of my jurisdiction. Of course, you will still be paid in full for your services..."

  "Of course," Miss Primrose agreed, clearing her throat.

  "And tell Miss Snips that I will see to the abolishment of her little problem as well," Orwick added. "All in all, it seems that this matter is officially closed."

  "I see," Miss Primrose said.

  "It is quite a shame there aren't any Kingsmen around these days," Count Orwick said rather wistfully. "You know, I've been thinking about advising Her Majesty to reinstitute the organization."

  "If there's nothing else, Count Orwick—"

  "No, nothing else," Orwick said. "Do be careful, Miss Primrose."

  ~*~

  It took an hour for William to arrive at the Arcanum estate; he had nervously retraced his steps to make sure that Snips was not following him.

  Once there, he found it difficult to resist the urge to take a peek at the oddities that lined the manorhouse's halls. But rather than satisfy his curiousity, he cradled the cup of tea Starkweather had brought him while he waited to see Master Arcanum, pausing to blow away the rising steam.

  As he lifted his head, he noticed that everything had gotten abruptly quiet.

  The crickets outside were no more. William could not even hear the tick of his own heart. He frowned, searching the room; his eyes fell upon the large and stately clock that occupied the far wall.

  Its second-hand was trembling, struggling to get past the five.

  "Not again!" William cried, and before he could stop himself, he had dropped the cup. The mathematician flinched with expectation, then stopped when he realized that the scalding tea had never reached his trousers.

  He peered down at the teacup, which was now hovering in mid-tumble directly above his lap. Its contents were paused in mid-spill, resembling a dark ice sculpture. Staring with rapt fascination, William reached out to touch the side of the tea—and immediately drew his finger back with a yelp. Although solid, the substance was still quite hot.

  He looked back to the clock. The second-hand continued to wrestle with the future, skipping back to the five with every attempt. And as William stood up to get a closer look, the hand suddenly snapped back—lurching to the four.

  "Master Arcanum will see you now," Starkweather announced.

  William spun around, facing the towering monolith; he saw now that the teacup was sitting neatly on the table, undisturbed and still steaming. He turned back to the clock, only to find that the second-hand was happily marching forward, well beyond the seven.

  "Um," William said. "Did you—did you just notice anything, uh, odd?"

  Starkweather raised his eyebrow.

  William shook his head. "Nevermind," he said, and then he walked on.

  The study contained all manner of oddities that drew William’s interest; the designs for strange machines that cluttered the walls caught his eye in particular. The owner of the estate even apparently had a mummy still in its sarcophagus, the withered corpse still bedecked in the ancient jewelry of its long-dead empire.

  As William was inspecting the mummy, it suddenly spoke.

  "Good evening."

  William nearly screamed, springing back and hoisting his hat up to protect him from what he assumed was the freshly arisen corpse. It took him a moment to realize that it wasn’t the mummy who had spoken, but someone else—a figure who he had missed in his initial appraisal of the room, sitting on a chair in a nightgown and cap.

  The figure was, apparently, yet another mummy.

  "Uh," William began.

  "You wished to speak with me," the second mummy said.

  "Hullo," William said, shifting uncomfortably. "I’m sorry, I don’t actually know who you are, but—"

  The mummy made a gesture. As if conjured from thin air, Starkweather appeared behind William and dropped a heavy hand to his shoulder.

  "I was here earlier with Miss Snips and I just wanted to ask you a few questions," William squeaked out just as that grip turned to iron.

  "Wait," the mummy-man said, shifting to sit up. At once, the servant's hand fell away. "You know… Miss Snips?"

  Well, yes, somewhat," William said. "I mean, we’ve fallen off a building together, and fought a fire. I’m not sure if that qualifies me as ‘knowing’ her, but I’ve certainly met her."

  William Daffodil is startled while inside Professor Arcanum's study.

  "Pardon my earlier rudeness. I’ve had some trouble with unwelcome guests in the past," William’s host said. "My name is Nigel Arcanum. May I inquire as to whom you are?"

  "William," he said, wetting his lips. "William Daffodil."

  There was a long pause.

  "Oh, er, I suppose I should explain," William said, having long grown used to such moments. "Yes, I am related to those Daffodils, but I assure you that I am in no way like the villains."

  "How disappointing," Nigel said.

  William blanched. No one had ever reacted that way before.

  "I knew your parents, William," Nigel continued. "And though they were many things, they were certainly not villains."

  ~*~

  CHAPTER 20: IN WHICH OUR TITULAR PROTAGONIST DISCOVERS THE TRUE PURPOSE OF THE STEAMWORK, THE DAFFODIL SCION DISCOVERS MORE OF HIS PAST, AND MR. EDDINGTON IS THREATENED WITH PI

  ~*~

  Snips jammed the business end of her crowbar between the planks of wood that now gua
rded the hole in Basil's workshop wall, twisting them off with a loud pop. She glanced below to make sure no one had heard the sound (nor noticed the thief who had clambored up the side of the building), then tossed the timber up to the roof. Without further delay, she slipped inside.

  Basil's workshop was as dark as Snips expected. The thief withdrew a hollow glass stick, gave it a steady shake to rouse up the lightning beetles inside, then held it up as the azure glow seeped into the room. After a quick glance to make sure nothing was waiting for her in the corners, she tossed the empty burlap sack over her shoulder and moved to enter the halls of the Steamwork.

  Snips muttered thanks to whatever God was listening that the Steamwork didn't have some sort of clockwork automaton patrolling it after hours. The hallway was completely empty, with the only light provided by Snips. She skulked up to Timothy Eddington's office, found the door locked, then set the light stick down and got on her knees.

  Locks were one of Snips' specialties; while others had spent long years learning how to put things together, Snips had been studying how to take them apart. Her long and clever fingers traced the width of the keyhole, gave the knob a jangle, and figured it to be a fairly simple warded lock. She unfolded the leather flap of tools she had brought with her, plucked out an appropriate pick, and began her work.

  "Really, Mr. Eddington," Snips said aloud as she twisted the pick about, attempting to fit it into the grooves. "You'd think you'd put a little more thought into your security. It's almost like you want me to steal everything you own."

  The lock soon snapped open with a satisfying ka-chunk.

  Replacing her tools, Snips rose to her feet and stepped inside, holding the light stick high above her head. Its glow permeated throughout the room, shining down across the many baubles and trinkets Snips had admired on her previous visit.

  "Hello, gents," Snips said. "Don't suppose you'd fancy a night out with a pretty lady?" She swept her burlap bag up into her hand and went to work.

  She had snatched an ivory Buddha, three expensive looking pens, a lovely amethyst paperweight, and was considering the matching set of ebony bookends when she noticed the filing cabinet behind Mr. Eddington's desk. This one had been triple-padlocked.