by Adam Dreece
Through gritted teeth, Elly replied, “I’m okay.”
“You’ve gone from reluctant to relentless,” replied her instructor with a smile. The woman was over six feet tall, with straight brown hair done in an elaborate braid. Her skin was dark and her arms were covered in tattoos the likes of which Elly had never seen. Her face was sharp, and her accent similar to Alex’s, but not enough for them to think she, too, was Endearian. “Don’t be disappointed. You need to stretch that side, get your body to understand what it can and cannot do, so it does not let your mind attempt something it will not do successfully. Go practice your throwing. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Elly nodded, rubbing her side.
The instructor glanced about. “Where’s Tee? She’s supposed to be here now.”
“I’ll find her for you. It’s not like her to miss a morning class.”
“Thank you, Elly. I’ll work with Mounira in the meantime. She’s really become one with that mechanical arm of hers.”
Elly noticed Alex sitting on a bench, staring up at the sky. He seemed peaceful, lost in thought. She liked how excited the two of them got sometimes when talking about the rocket-pack. He wasn’t intimidated like many of the boys were in Minette, never mind the other girls.
Even in the hot weather, he was dressed with his worn, yet regal blue coat, collared shirt and white pants that went down to his knees. Elly smiled as she got close enough to hear his mutterings. He was always at work on the rocket-pack, as was she. She hoped that he and Richy would get to meet, as she could see them being friends.
Glancing around, she sat down near but not beside Alex. She watched as people went about their morning routine, many of them walking through the courtyard and ignoring the soldiers and others training. “Are you thinking about whether or not you want to add wings again, as you stare at the birds?”
“I’m trying to think like a bird, see where our thinking might be wrong,” said Alex as he continued his sketching.
“I’ve been thinking about propellants,” said Elly.
Alex stopped, and smiled at some people walking by. “Plural?”
“Yes, I’m thinking we need two different ones. One for ignition, more explosive, and then the other that would burn more steadily,” proposed Elly, looking in the opposite direction.
“Hmm,” mused Alex. “This idea, I think it is a good one. One to pop and one to push, yes?”
Elly nodded, a hidden smile at him using one of Tee’s expressions. “Are you going to show your uncle your new ideas?” she asked.
Alex stared back up at the birds flying over head. “I would have, but he has left.”
“Where did he go?”
“I do not know,” said Alex shrugging. “I found him packed up and ready to leave. He offered for me to come with him, but I told him no. He warned me against staying, and then left.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Elly.
Alex’s expression showed no real concern. “I know you know he is not really my uncle. I respect that you have not asked or mentioned it. But it does not matter. With you Yellow Hoods, I have purpose, both intellectually and morally. This is where I want to be.”
Elly looked at him, nodding. “Indeed.” She then had a mischievous thought. “I’d like you to do something for me.”
Tee took another thin strip of leather from the stash she’d found and tied some rogue hair up in yet another ponytail. Taking off her goggles, she stared at the armband design drawings pinned to the wall. “Where are you?” Going back and forth between her assembled device on the workbench and her diagrams, she tried to think where the last issue was. “You aren’t going to tell me, are you?” She wondered how many times Christina had failed with the whirly-bird before it worked.
She touched the side of the goggles and noticed it was wet. “Leaking again? Already? I’m going to have to really fix this seal later,” she muttered as she reached for some wax and tools. A minute later, she was satisfied. She’d found them waiting for her on the workbench one day, an anonymous gift. Apart from being beautiful and ornate, they seemed old. She’d never met something so small and elegant as how it used water and pressure to change the magnification of the goggles’ lens.
Looking over the grapple bolt mechanism of her armband, she wondered how her Grandpapa had done it. “Maybe the springs are too tight? Maybe too thick?” She couldn’t get it to fire properly. She stopped all of a sudden and stared at the doorway. “Is someone there?” She pulled down her goggles and walked over, peeking into the empty dim, stone corridor. Though lanterns were hung every six feet, they were old and cast a gloomy light. “Hmm, must be nothing.” She headed back to her workbench.
A while later, Tee stretched and jumped up and down, trying to reinvigorate herself. Not feeling awake enough, she ran on the spot, holding onto her brown pants that were two sizes too big. “Okay, let’s do battle,” she said to the armband once again. She fixed her rope belt and her cream blouse. “Ms. Drawings, do you have anything to say?” she asked the wall, widening her stance and studying them. She grabbed one of the things Canny had called a pencil and twirled it in her hand, a habit she was starting to enjoy. She couldn’t believe how much easier the pencil was to use than a quill, and with no need for ink. Yet another marvel of Kar’m. “Come on, what am I not seeing?”
“Maybe it’s not what you think it is, but something right beside it. Something that’s too obvious to see if you stare straight at it,” said a voice.
Tee nodded, her mind focused. “Maybe… maybe the bolt’s cable isn’t threading right.” She put the goggles back and prodded around. “Actually, I think I should reinforce this part of the trigger mechanism.” She reached to the edge of the workbench and took a small, leather-wrapped metal rod out of a bed of glowing red coals. With surgical precision and a small piece of copper, she fused some parts together. “Now what do you have to say?” she asked the device. “Are you going to work?”
“What is that?” asked the male voice, approaching from behind. “I never feel like you’ve given me a real answer.”
“Huh?” said Tee, spinning around in surprise, knocking her stool over. “Alex? What are you doing here?”
“Um… you didn’t know I was here?” he asked. He blushed and looked away as he realized how Tee was dressed. “You’re… in pajamas.”
“No,” replied Tee. She then glanced down and laughed. “Ah… sort of. What are you doing here?”
“Elly sent me.”
She shrugged off her embarrassment and looked at Alex. “You can look at me,” she said. “Just don’t be too scared by the hair.”
“It’s not proper for a man to—”
“Alex, these are not my pajamas. These are just comfy, that’s all.”
“Oh,” he replied, slowly bringing his gaze up.
“So… how long have you been there?” asked Tee.
Alex scratched his head. “You’ve been talking to me for a couple of minutes.”
“Really? Oh.” Tee smiled. After a few seconds, she realized that Alex was just staring at her. “Alex?”
“Yes?” he asked, straightening up, his hands behind his back.
“Elly sent you,” prompted Tee.
“Oh! Yes. She mentioned you were missing training this morning, and I should come get you. She said something about it being better coming from a Benjamin. What does that mean?”
Tee went beet red. Many years ago, Tee had had her first crush on a boy named Benjamin. Ever since then, it had become code. They even used it for girls Elly liked, which they felt was a fun secret irony. “It means I’m going to have to kill her.”
Alex was surprised. “But… Isn’t she your best friend, and didn’t you save her life?”
“Yes, well, that was then. Pre-Benjamin.” She paused. “I’m kidding. Sorry,” she replied.
“Oh,” he said, relieved.
“Anyway, I didn’t miss training this morning, I just did it earlier. She’s just messing with me.”
“Um, I thought that was possible, so I confirmed with the instructor,” said Alex.
“She’s mistaken, then,” replied Tee.
He glanced around the room. “There are no windows here. One could lose track of time. Are you aware that it is Thursday?”
“Very funny,” said Tee. “I get it. I’ve been working down here a lot.” She smiled at Alex. “I appreciate the concern.”
“You have big eyes,” he blurted out, going red in the process.
Tee laughed. “Yes well, they are twice the size of my head.”
Alex stared at the floor. “Um. Just to be clear, it is Thursday,” he said. “Elly said you’ve been here since yesterday after training.”
“You’re kidding, right?” asked Tee, a hint of worry.
“No.”
“Wait, the instructor’s expecting me?”
Alex nodded. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”
“Ah!” yelled Tee, bolting past him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Unconventional Moment
Franklin stretched and glanced with blurry eyes as he awoke. Once again, he’d fallen asleep at his workbench. It was a funny feeling, but one he was getting used to. He rubbed his eyes and scanned about, spotting a trolly with a pot of tea and some toast. He glanced about for Alfrida, who was nowhere to be seen. “She’s a ghost, that woman.”
It had been an interesting few weeks working side by side with Simon St. Malo, particularly lately. Franklin had learned that Caterina was the one person able to strike fear into Simon. He’d also learned that Simon had retrieved the steam engines plans, but was intentionally not working on them with him, which bothered Franklin immensely.
He stared at the closed main doors to the study and thought of Ruffo and Stefano. The guys were getting bored. Money only held their interest so long. He’d ask them to hang on a bit longer. If the time came when the guys were going to leave, he wasn’t sure if he’d actually stay with Simon.
The grand study door opened and Alfrida came in holding a tray of tea and toast and stopped right in front of Franklin’s workbench, stunned. He glanced at the trolly and then back at Alfrida. “Um, I haven’t touched the first set yet. Sorry.”
Alfrida was beside herself. “But, I didn’t bring it. I never bring in tea and toast before seven o’clock.”
Franklin pulled out the pocket-watch Ruffo and Stefano had bought for him. “It’s five past seven,” he muttered. He reached over and touched the side of the pot. “It’s not piping hot.”
“I spent the past half an hour looking for the trolley. No one knew what had happened to it,” said Alfrida.
“Half an hour? Well, that gives us a timeline,” said Franklin, looking around. “Put the tray down on the table by the fireplace, and wait outside in case our intruder hasn’t left yet.”
“Should I alert High Conventioneer St. Malo?” she asked.
Franklin thought for a moment. “Not just yet. Maybe this is a practical joke of some form.”
Alfrida shook her head. “St. Malo hates practical jokes.”
“As do I,” mused Franklin, slowly walking through the maze of bookcases. He stopped, twiddling his fingers. “I’ll fetch you if I find anything out of place.” He wondered what was afoot. He couldn’t imagine that people were actually able to get into the study unannounced. Simon had made a point of sharing with him all the defenses and security measures he had. Yet the evidence was compelling. Suddenly it dawned on him to check the always-locked inner office.
“Closed. But are you locked?” said Franklin, staring at the door. Carefully turning the knob, Franklin opened the door and stepped inside.
Simon’s inner office was a bright room, lit by windows that saw out to the garden, and with walls that went up thirty feet to the ceiling. It had a seating area by a fireplace, a dark workbench with ruffled papers on it and a large desk at the far end of the rectangular room. Along one of the walls were dozens upon dozens of pinned papers, like those he’d seen in his father’s room. On another were maps and other designs that pulled Franklin to them.
He studied them and then found something of serious interest. “What’s a rail-raft?” He carefully removed the paper and studied it. He put it back, and took another. “Rail-rafts… trains. Hold on, what’s this?” He removed a third sheet which clicked it all together for him. “This train thing… it uses my steam engine.” He stared at the floor in disbelief. “Christina was telling the truth? Someone actually needs the steam engine for something concrete?” He scanned through the other series of drawings and notes. “So, they want to move whatever a Skyfaller is around by train. Okay, well, that’s interesting.” He turned and looked at the other wall. “Hmm, what have we here?” He smiled as he pulled a drawing he first thought was pure fantasy until he studied its details. “A Skyfaller is an airship. And this one will be powered by the engine? Really. Well, this… Beldon generation of Skyfaller has got my attention, indeed.”
He closed his eyes and thought, ignoring his shoulder as it spasmed for a few seconds. “Maybe they built the air balloon ships first, then needed to move them, so they built the rail-rafts. They had to, because they didn’t have the engine, and thus the reason for going after father. Ah… this makes sense now. Wow. I can’t believe I’m standing in the middle of all of this.” He wandered over to a map with finely painted lines. His heart filled with pride and ambition. “These are the rails for the train. They go nearly everywhere. Amazing.”
Something caught his eye and he scanned about until he was able to figure out what it was. Some of the papers weren’t lined up properly along the wall. He looked at the ones on the opposite wall, they were perfectly straight. “Someone was clever, but not clever enough for me,” he said, smiling.
Carefully, Franklin moved over to the desk and found the drawers all slightly open. After checking them, he gently closed them. Turning to look out the window at the back of the office, he noticed the chair was turned toward the window. He spun it around, revealing an envelope on the seat. Glancing at the door first, he picked up the unsealed envelope and lifted the card out.
“Thanks for everything, especially your treachery. See you soon, Abe Pieman,” read Franklin aloud. He gently replaced the note. He gazed about, tapping the envelope on the back of his other hand. “He’s being set up. Hmm, that’s interesting.” A sinister idea hit Franklin. Turning his back to the door, he pulled out a hundred crown note from his money pouch and slid it into the envelope. He returned the card to the seat and tucked his shirt back in.
“What are you doing here?” asked a booming voice from the doorway.
Franklin stiffened and turned around, his hands up.
“Franklin Charles David Watt, your Regent asked you a question,” said the red hooded figure at the door.
Franklin’s eyes focused on the gold embroidery along the edges of the cloak. He’d never met someone who instilled such fear in him. “Who…who…” he stammered.
“I am Regent Caterina Maurice. But relax, I am not accusing you of anything. Alfrida already informed me that you were helping.” She pulled back her hood, revealing her scarred face.
Franklin started to bow and then stopped, “I… I don’t know what I’m supposed to do… Do I call you ‘your majesty’?”
She smiled, instantly relaxing the teen. “Why are you in here?”
Franklin glanced about. “The door was open.”
“Open?” she asked, surprised.
He stared at the ground. “Unlocked,” he confessed.
She looked him up and down. “I believe you. Tell me what you’ve found.”
Franklin walked her through the papers on the wall that were not aligned. She then noticed the dust where a notebook had been removed, and went through the drawers, disturbed by some of the letters she found.
“And then there was the note on the chair. I’d just seen that when you arrived,” said Franklin, pointing. He was sweating profusely.
She picked it up, curious about his n
ervousness. “I heard a rumor that it wasn’t Simon who had figured out the Klaus design plans. That it was you. Is that true?”
Franklin stared at the ground, wondering. Just as she was about to ask him again, he looked up. “Yes. Yes, it is true.”
“After I read this, we have much to discuss. I want to know what’s really been going on.”
As Caterina and Franklin walked out of Simon’s office, they heard the main door open, and then the unmistakable sound of someone running.
Simon skipped to a stop in front of them. His face was a mix of rage and fear. “What are you doing here? Why wasn’t I told immediately about—”
“You always had to play both sides, didn’t you, Simon? Ever wanting more attention? It explains a lot,” said Caterina.
With a shaking hand, he pointed sharply at her. “You, of all people, are trying to play that against me? You? Cat… Caterina.”
“Oh,” she said playfully, her eyes piercing. “You finally have the courage to say my name? After all these weeks, I wondered if it would ever happen.”
Simon’s eyes darted around the study. “I demand to know what’s happened here.”
“You demand? From the Regent?” she asked, smiling politely. “Alfrida, are you there?”
“I am, your majesty,” came her voice from somewhere in the maze of bookcases.
“Please send for the royal investigator and some guards of notable size. Don’t worry, they’re only a safety measure, in case we have a problem. Do we have a problem, Conventioneer St. Malo?”
Simon’s face went flush. “How dare you, I’m the—”
“You have whatever title I see fit, I'm the Regent. If you’re cleared of the charges of treason, then your position as High Conventioneer will be restored,” said Caterina, tossing the envelope at him. “But I’ll tell you this, it doesn’t look hopeful.”
“What’s this?” asked Simon glancing down at the envelope. “A letter of execution?”