"That's it boyo," she said, "don't let a little discomfort get in the way of pursuit of knowledge."
Outside his room was a grand wood panelled hallway, lined with painting of all kinds. Some were usual landscapes with horses at work, or cows in the field, while others were of very grand people indeed.
As they walked at the pace Henry could manage, he peered up at them. "Isn't that..."
"Yes, the Lord Mayor of London," Mrs Driscoll said, pulling to a stop before a man painted in front of a desk. "One of our greatest supporters. He's a member of the club from before the time he got elected."
Glancing to the right and left Henry picked out many notable citizens of London and the wider Empire. He spotted a few aristocrats he'd relieved of their pocket watches and kerchiefs when he was a young pickpocket on the street.
“All them members too?” he asked, starting to realise that true scope of the Illuminati. The rich and the influential, that is who he had spied on the previous night.
She nodded and shrugged. “We bring together the powerful to assist those with bright minds not born into privilege.” She shot him a pointed look. “We call it out mission here at Mosby's.”
Reaching a door, she opened it to reveal a library that would have made Verity jump with delight. Wall to wall bookshelves enough to keep even her voracious appetite content. What stood against the far wall though caught Henry’s attention.
He took a few steps in before he thought about it. “Is that a Babbage difference engine?”
Mrs Driscoll clasped her hands together as if it were nothing. “That? Oh yes, he and Miss Lovelace both were members too. This is one of his prototypes.”
For a moment Henry utterly forgot that perhaps these were the people that had shot at Verity, chased her through London, and might have made their safe house, very unsafe. He ran his fingers lovingly over the keys and thought about how his childhood hero had touched this very thing, created it from his own mind.
“They say such a creation hasn’t been seen since the fall of Rome,” Mrs Driscoll said, coming up to him and standing at his side. “But I think the greatest wonders are still to come. Babbage may have invented this machine, but I think perhaps my own work is just as impressive.” She shot him a sideways glance, and he knew he had to say something.
She’d seen him, and there was no pretending otherwise. “Judging by what I saw last night, it still has some work to do.”
Now most mad scientists would have exploded at such a suggestion, being vain and venial as Verity described them. Mrs Driscoll however smiled and nodded. “You speak the truth, boyo. You did get quite a show last night though.” She sighed. “Unfortunately we are all in need of patrons, those of us without a few initials tacked onto the front of our name. After last night’s kerfuffle I may have to get everyone drunk to enter a room again.”
The green flame and the screaming automaton made an impression on him too, but Henry couldn’t afford to let slip that he knew about the Emerald Flame and the souls of people inside automatons. He had the distinct feeling he was standing next to the monster in the basement. She didn’t look dangerous now, but he’d long ago learned not to completely trust the face people showed to the world.
If he was cautious, then she might keep thinking he was just some foolish, but bright thief trying to break in to steal some silver. She seemed curious about him, and he was going to take that as a chance to learn more.
Shooting him a sly look out of the corner of her eye, Mrs Driscoll smiled. “You remind me a bit of me when I was growing up. I would have ended up in the mine if I hadn’t shown the world what I could do with this.” Tapping the side of her head, she lead him over to a section of the library.
Reading the spines of the books, Henry knew immediately that they were in the midst of engineering. He hadn’t seen such a fine collection since the Delancy Academy, and if he hadn’t had that experience he might have been even more impressed. Out of the corner of his eye he knew Mrs Driscoll was observing him like a hawk. It went far beyond the usual look adults of money gave him. It probed beneath the humble interior, looking for something else. If she had the mad thought that he a half-breed orphan from the streets was anything like her, then he would roll that assumption on to get whatever he wants.
Turning to her, he smiled. “I can do a lot with wot I got too, Mrs, but I can make plenty of coin out there for myself. So tell me exactly why I should throw my lot in with yours?”
Mrs Driscoll smiled and nodded. “I am sure you could, but the benefits of belonging to our little group are far greater than any you might get beyond these walls.” She gestured him to follow her.
As they walked down the corridor, Henry took note of the different rooms they passed, tucking away the information for later—just in case he needed to beat a hasty retreat.
One with a tiny window in it made him jump. Eddie the Scholar, his eye pressed against it screamed, though no noise made it through to the corridor.
Driscoll cleared her throat. “Don’t worry about Eddie. We have a doctor on the way to see him right.”
A little further down his gaze alighted on another room of interest. The brass plaque read archives and records, but it appeared no one was within. He noted the lock on the door, and it looked laughably simple. Now if he could just shake off this Driscoll woman, he might be able to find what he needed.
No chance of it right at this minute though. Reaching the far end of the corridor, she opened a door and led him in. It was a laboratory, with glass vials, microscopes, Bunsen burners and all the items a scientist might dream of having. Henry experienced a pang of envy—that was until he saw the broken and shattered remains of last night’s automaton sitting slumped in her chair. She resembled the toy of an angry giant child, cast into the corner. She also made him extremely uncomfortable.
“Don’t worry about Maureen,” Driscoll said. “She is purely experimental.” Walking over, she sat on the edge of her desk and leaned against it with her arms crossed. The gaze she levelled in Henry’s direction was designed to make him uncomfortable, but he’d suffered under much worse. He looked back unblinking.
“Have you thought about death much, boyo?” she asked in her lilting accent.
The question did catch him unawares though, bringing up memories he would rather have not faced. His mother’s last tortured gasp, his father slipping away pain-free—when he was the one that deserved it more. Then there were later deaths; children trampled under cartwheels, stabbed by others their own age, or coughing up their lungs in shadowy street corners. Like all of the Ministry Seven, he’d seen a lot.
“Not a look, nah. It comes quick or it comes slow. I probably won’t live to be an old man.” He held onto his bravado as best he could, but it was the truth.
“What if I told you instead of existing in your frail flesh body, you could live forever in a shell of metal and gears.”
Henry swallowed. This woman wasn’t joking, but she couldn’t know that he’d already seen the results of that. Monkey Wrench the younger children called him, and he didn’t give the impression of being entirely happy with his new lot.
“You’re having a laugh,” he croaked out.
“I most certainly am not.” Driscoll got to her feet and wandered over to the shattered automaton. Her steps were marked by the crunching of tiny pieces of porcelain under her feet. “Maureen here was a trial. The automaton was flawless, but the person we attempted to transfer into it was… less so.” She paused to brush aside one of the red curls. “A young woman who tried to take her own life, but in the process ruined her body beyond repair. The daughter of one of our members.”
“Hope they weren’t here last night,” Henry muttered under his breath.
She chuckled. “No, I made sure they were not.”
“So… how’d you do it?” Henry asked, daring to lean forward. The Emerald Flame he knew about, but it wouldn’t hurt to try and squeeze some more information out of the old biddy. He noted that all trace of
the green light was gone from the automaton this morning.
She waggled her finger. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, boyo. We don’t just give away our secrets to every person that crash lands in our garden.”
Henry considered his choices in the space between one breath and the next. He could brash it out, demand to be let loose, but that might end with a bash in the head. He might even get the same treatment as Eddie. No, the best course of action seemed to be to play along, and look for an opportunity. Besides, that archives and records room was practically begging to be ransacked.
“Then Mrs, I think you ought to be putting me through my paces, because I might just be the best thing you toffs have seen in a while.” He knew he laid it on bit thick, but this woman seemed to like it that way.
“Very well then,” she said lacing her fingers together, “let’s see about getting you into the program immediately. It will be challenging, but very much worth it.”
Her smile might have meant to be relaxing, but it chilled Henry to the core. It reminded him of the toothy grin of some of the adult gangs, when they’d tried recruiting him.
“I’ll do you proud, Mrs,” he added.
Her gaze nailed him to the floor for a moment, before she jerked her head towards a cupboard. “You can start with cleaning up Maureen’s remains.”
He found a dustpan and brush and started sweeping up the broken shards on the floor. He could only hope that someday someone else didn’t do the same for him. Porcelain or flesh, death always made a mess.
Chapter Twenty
A Brass Man to the Rescue
It would have been the normal reaction for a child to cry at this moment. With Verity, Julia and her mother marched off to an uncertain future, and everything looking so bleak, Alexander was girding himself to get immediately splattered with childish tears.
However when he glanced to his right, Emma’s face was sketched with an expression Boudica might have worn as she stared at the now shut door.
“Now no one panic,” the automaton mouth ran ahead of his mind. “I am sure once the ladies have given Driscoll what she wants, they be back in a—”
“Alright Liam, you got em off yet?”
The youngster fired off a savage grin, and Potts realised he’d already sloughed off his shoes, and wriggled his feet out of the ropes. Then while the automaton watched, he gave his shoulders and arms a sharp jerk and pulled his unfettered hands around in front at him. Potts saw the woman do a sailor’s job on the ropes, but this child got himself out of them in incredibly short order.
Making the mistake of thinking these were normal children proved to be very useful.
“Help me out,” Christopher grumbled, but didn’t even say thank you when Liam did so.
“Monkey Wrench,” Emma squeaked, and once free ran to his side. For once Alexander didn’t complain, since she unhitched him from the device Driscoll strapped to his side.
With his senses restored, he saw that now was the moment for him to lead these children out of the city. With the door sealed behind Verity, Una and Julia, there was no chance of saving them, but perhaps if he was quick about it, the others could get a good distance from it. If the Emerald Flame was released they would need to be well out of the firing range.
“Let’s get moving,” he said, waving his hands back the way they came.
The three children simply stared.
Loyalty was an admirable quality, but this was ridiculous. “Nothing for it,” he burbled, “only Verity got past that door so without her…”
“There’s another way in,” Emma said, pushing her curly hair out of her face. “Verity signed it to me.” She jerked her head down into the ditch which had once been full of oil.
One might have hoped that she was joking, but all three of the remaining children, scrambled down the slope and began poking around. Alexander watched helplessly as they ran their hands over the surface of the stone, searching for some kind of hidden entrance.
Loyalty, he understood that, but also self-preservation had its place too. He was just trying to decide how to frame that observation, when Christopher let out a yelp of delight.
“Found something,” he crowed.
After that Alexander simply had to go down there. He rolled down next to the tallest of the Seven, and watched as a slight indentation was twisted, to reveal a circular entrance. It would hardly be called a door, but there was something else about it that gave him pause.
“I can fit down there no problem,” Christopher said, already rolling up his sleeves, “and if I can, then all of us can.”
Alexander’s sense lit up, and he found he understood why. His human senses were not nearly as powerful, even when he’d cared to use them. Quick as a whip he launched out and grabbed hold of the boy’s sleeve. “Stop, there’s something…”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” Christopher snapped back, even as he moved to wriggle into the pipe.
“Wait!” Emma pushed herself in from of him. “Don’t you smell that?”
Liam narrowed his eyes as he leaned forward cautiously. “It smells like really rotten piss.”
Language from such a small mouth might have set Alexander into apoplexy when he was completely human, but he had gotten used to it in recent times.
The other two children sniffed, but did not stick their heads into the opening.
“Precisely,” Alexander said, with a low beep to emphasise the point, “Fluorine gas, you can even see the faint yellow colour, and of course it is completely poisonous to humans.”
“Why would they fill a pipeline with gas?” Christopher demanded.
“Probably venting something from the laboratory,” Alexander suggested. “And who knows what kind of chemicals might have broken down since this place was last used.”
Christopher’s eyes narrowed on him. “Poisonous to humans, righto then…”
Alexander glanced from the children to the pipeline and back again. “You’re not suggesting that I go in there?”
“Monkey Wrench,” Emma said, getting down so she was at his eye level, “we can’t go in there, and we have to help Verity. She might be older, but she still needs us.”
“The door has to be simpler to open from the inside,” Christopher ventured, sounding awfully sure about something he couldn’t know anything about. “Otherwise all them workers would have a tough time of it.”
“Maybe,” Alexander grudgingly admitted.
“And it can’t hurt you,” Liam added.
The weight of all the children’s regard on him was very powerful. It wasn’t like he wanted to go in there. Close spaces were one of his worst nightmares, and that hadn’t gone away with a change of body. However, they were right, the gas shouldn’t have any effect on his mechanical body.
“But on the other side… who knows what I will find.” He peered up at the three children.
“That’s why you open the door for us quick like,” Christopher said, and putting his hand behind Alexander’s round body pushed him towards the hole.
In that instant the automaton professor almost extended his legs and ran for it. Until he looked up at Emma. Under her mop of chestnut hair, her eyes were wide.
He cleared his mechanical throat, which resulted in a series of beeps. “Very well then, shut it after I have gone through. Don’t want this room filling up with fluorine.”
With that he rolled into the pipeline quite full of bravery. Still when the metallic hatch clanged shut behind him, he did jump. It was very close quarters in here, and only by keeping his head at half extension was he able to keep rolling forward. The yellow gas obscured his vision, but he could still hear things.
Above was the machine. It resonated in his metal parts, and brought the flame inside his chest rushing to life within its crystalline structure. If he’d still possessed a human body he might have said it was a burst of exhilaration. He was in no doubt that the city machine was aware of him, as it awakened. Somewhere deep underground it stirred to
life, though what its purpose was remained as much as mystery as the formula for the Emerald Flame. Ancient cities were not his forte, but something about this one connected with his automaton body. Could it be recognition?
Doctor Alexander Potts always considered himself human. Even when stuffed into an automaton body, it wasn’t really him. It was a shell he’d been forced to occupy in order to survive. Yet now in the darkness underneath an ancient and unknowable city, the mechanics of his existence sprang to vivid life.
He experienced the Emerald Flame burning inside him, felt the exquisite running of his body to precise mathematical rhythms, and knew that he was far from the flesh and blood man from the Brunel Institute. He was something else, and that something else called to the greater machine soul above him.
“Soul?” he whispered in the gas-filled darkness. Could machines have such things? What would the world look like if they did?
He wanted to fling off such odd contemplations as mere fancy, but within his metal shell he was something else. The temptation to rise up and find out what he and the great machine of the clockwork country could make was very alluring.
He didn’t have to listen to what any human said. They had no rights over him. Half-way along this pipeline was a connection to another. If he were to take that one then he’d end up somewhere else entirely. He’d find the great brain of the city waiting for him, burning with the power of the Emerald Flame. What wonders they could accomplish together.
As he rolled along, he found the juncture and paused. The city didn’t breathe as such, but there were sounds of its pistons and gears working, and the faint heat from its boilers. He almost went that way, but one thing stopped him. One face really.
Emma, the little urchin off the street was relying on him to help save her family. That’s what they were the motley collection of children—family. Potts never experienced anyone relying on him before. As well as he imagined the brain of the city in all its glory, he saw even more vividly the expression on Emma’s face as he left them.
The Mystery of Emerald Flame (Verity Fitzroy and the Ministry Seven Book 2) Page 17