Amelia was depressed and trying to cope by working, but it wasn’t helping, because she craved something she’d had all her life in Daleshade, which had been missing in the past two years: home. She had no desire to return to the backward village she’d grown up in, but she wanted somewhere to settle down.
Her family had originally set out to find a place they’d be accepted, but in general, no one trusted outsiders enough to sell them land. In the few places they’d stayed long-term, in the hopes of someday being allowed to buy land, rumor caught up with them and the sisters were outed as witches, leading to a quick retreat, before a lynch mob could be gathered. It was frustrating that the legacy of the awful village they’d come from could reach so very far, but gossip seemed to travel faster than any wagon could manage.
Two years of wandering the roads of the world, two years of losing every friend made along the way, two years of wanting a place to put down some roots, only to be denied at every opportunity, due to the same old stupid ignorance.
That time had seen Amelia through a lot of physical growth, though she was still shorter than Iris, who was slightly taller than Mother and Amelia would forever remain much shorter than Marta. In fact, Amelia was beginning to wonder how a huge man and a woman of average height had produced such a small girl, but that was just one of those things that happened from time to time.
Despite darkening significantly, Amelia’s hair was still blond and she was glad it no longer resembled straw. In combination with the way her bust-line had filled out, young men had begun to stare at her with interest, something that had encouraged her to grow her hair until it reached mid-back. Long hair could be dangerous around machines, however, so Marta and Iris helped her out by braiding it to stay on her backside and out of the way.
Amelia sat on a stool in a wagon she’d turned into a mobile workshop, which had previously been owned by a traveling salesman that retired and sold it to her. It had originally been very similar to old Mr. Pinewater’s wagon, with wood walls, a round roof, a door at the back and a small wood stove, though Amelia had replaced that with an enchanted, rune-powered forge and smelter. She’d also retrofit the stove pipe with an enchanted bellows that kept the air of the workshop clean, by drawing out the smoke produced by smelting and metalwork.
She’d also modified the wagon to work similar to her old carriage, though with many improvements, including the ability to disengage the steam engine from the wagon’s rear shaft, so she could use it for tasks inside the workshop, such as running the lathe, her new favorite tool.
The lathe was something described in The Book of Newts, which used an engine to rotate a bit of wood or metal at high speed, while she braced a chisel or other tool to shave the working material down. She was currently working a bit of wood into a round table leg for a wealthy woman of the village they’d stopped at for a time, because the whole family was tired of traveling. Wood wasn’t Amelia’s favorite material to work with, but no one in the sleepy little city had ever seen turned wood and Amelia had lots of orders for table legs.
It was easy money, but wasn’t satisfying, because she felt drawn to the sky. She’d been reading in The Book of Newts about flying machines, which made her hands practically itch to try out the designs, but all she could build were little models that soared through the air. Those were fun as toys and another money maker, but she just didn’t have the space to work on a full-scale version.
Amelia wanted a real brick and mortar workshop, where such wondrous machines might be possible, but was beginning to really doubt she’d ever find a place to call home.
Her mind wandered as she varnished the current order of table legs, thinking about all the wealthy women that had been buying them. As they dried over the course of the morning and afternoon, it occurred to her that women with wealth often also had influence. Influence and wealth had always been the tools of choice for Mayor Rumblecleaver, because they could be quite powerful. Amelia had plenty of wealth and the means to get more, but influence was something she’d never had, nor tried to wield. Perhaps it was time to acquire some.
Surely, if she had friends in high places that owed her a small favor, they would be inclined to grease the wheels of politics on her behalf, to allow her to purchase some land. It was worth trying.
She might still have to solve the issue of the rumors of witchcraft, but she dared hope that was already take care of. After all, it had been eight months since she’d even heard the rumor. Perhaps they were finally beyond the reach of Daleshade’s awful legacy?
Feeling strangely energized by a glimmer of hope, Amelia stepped down from her workshop wagon.
Father was busy working on the other wagon, using wood he’d cut from a nearby forest to give it a roof and walls, because he seemed to have finally accepted the idea they’d never have a home. Every day, the man looked a little older and more tired. He needed a real home just as badly as Amelia, or perhaps even more.
To one side, Marta was cooking their evening meal over the campfire in a big, cast-iron skillet, while Iris did laundry in the shallow stream they’d been camping beside. The family tent was beyond Marta, a blue affair made of oilskin, which had a little open circle in one side for the pipe of the small wood stove that had originally been part of Amelia’s workshop. Their two horses had been tied to a tree on the opposite bank, near some lush grass they were doing their best to terminally trim. Beyond them was the forest Father had been cutting wood from for their projects and campfire.
In the other direction was the little city Amelia hoped would soon accept them, with a little help. Macclesfield was rural, primarily a farming community, but it was on a major trade route and featured a rather prosperous market. It was surrounded by farm fields that went nearly as far as the eye could see, interrupted by only an occasional barn, but no houses, which was different from most places. The city itself had a strong defensive wall of local stone mortared together that kept the homes of locals safe and protected their stored farm produce, because there were occasional roving bandits in the area.
Ironically, when it came to bandits, the rumor mill worked in a witch’s favor. Bandits didn’t share gossip with the communities they robbed, but they did share it with each other and the Blackwell sisters were well known to them, because every time they came near, Marta used magic to start an earthquake, an effective deterrent that harmed no one.
Amelia loaded several dozen table legs into a small hand cart she’d purchased for making deliveries. Each set of four was different by design, with varying choices of wood and varnish, because the tables they were intended for had differing motifs.
She vanished into the family tent for a few minutes, emerging in the yellow dress she used for deliveries, which included a white apron, because she always needed pockets. She lifted the handles of the cart and headed for the city.
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Mrs. Maccle smiled at Amelia’s work, obviously quite pleased. She was middle-aged, with wrinkles creeping into her face from every side, but that only made her look wise and distinguished, rather than old. Her black hair had been tied back with a red ribbon that matched the expensive dress she wore.
“It’s excellent work, dear. You really are a wonderful crafts…” The older woman trailed off in deep thought for a few seconds, before finishing her compliment, “You really are a top-notch craftswoman.” She smiled and turned the table leg over in her hand, feeling how smooth the surface was, “I really don’t know how you make them so perfectly round.”
Amelia smiled, “I’m afraid that’s a trade secret.”
“Of course, I would never dare intrude upon your right to keep that to yourself.” The woman handed the leg back.
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They stepped beside an overturned table the new legs were destined to become a part of. Ironically, Amelia thought the existing legs were better, because they had a curvature to them that was impressive, though they followed a very rectangular basis from top to bottom, but since no one had round legs on their tables, Amelia’s work was all the rage.
Amelia carefully released the fastenings that kept the old legs on, slotted the new ones into place, then replaced the fastenings that kept it all secure. When she was done, the two of them flipped the table back over and Mrs. Maccle grinned from ear to ear.
“I’ll be the envy of all my friends, dear.” She took Amelia’s hand in both of hers, asking, “How much do I owe you? I’ve forgotten the details since we agreed on the amount.”
Amelia smiled, because the moment she’d been waiting for had come.
She started, “Actually, since then I’ve decided I’d like something other than money, if you’ll hear me out.”
“Go on, dear.”
“I’d like to buy some land, but I haven’t been able to, because local law forbids an outsider from owning property in the city. I want to live here, because it’s a nice place. I want to be a local. I’d be happy to give you the table legs in exchange for some aid in that matter.”
Mrs. Maccle gave Amelia’s hand a friendly little squeeze, “I’d be happy to. After all, with skills like yours, you would be a most welcome upset to the local craftsmen. The old boys are so protective of the ancient crafting secrets, but with your new techniques and being a woman, no less, I think you’ll be making just the right kind of waves, in no time!
“However, while I’m all for the idea, I must say, you’re going to need more than just my approval. I have the ear of my husband, the mayor, but you’re going to need other leading men to weigh in on the matter.”
Amelia chuckled, “That’s more or less what Mrs. Keenmark and Mrs. Flatbrand said. Both suggested I get you on my side.”
“Ah, you little schemer!” Mrs. Maccle laughed, “You had me thinking you’d asked me first. You can rest assured that my husband will vote in your favor to make an exception for you and your family. With their wives on your side, the other two members of the town council will surely follow suit, lest they never hear the end of it.”
“Thank you.” Amelia bowed her head to her benefactor, “Then please, accept the table legs as a gift, to show my appreciation for this little favor.”
Mrs. Maccle let go of Amelia’s hand and bowed her head, in turn, “I accept your gift with thanks and I hope that we can be friends, dear.”
Amelia was taken aback, because she hadn’t expected that, but it was a happy outcome.
“Nothing could possibly make me happier.” Amelia nodded, with a tear rolling down her cheek, because she meant every word.
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Amelia stepped into a dim, empty warehouse that was irregularly lit by windows, most of which were so dirty, no light made it through. Wooden columns with peeling paint kept the roof up, which was at ceiling height of the second story of most houses in town. The space was nearly a hundred yards wide, but only half that in width. To one side of the entrance was a little, elevated office with a set of stairs leading up to it, another office sandwiched beneath it. Both had actual glass windows to look out at the warehouse. Both the front and back had huge doors that swung inward, large enough to drive fully loaded wagons inside, plus a smaller set of doors for people.
“I think this is far too large for your needs, dear,” Mrs. Maccle waved a hand toward the massive room, her voice echoing, “but it is available and you said money was no object…”
“Why is it empty? Why is your husband looking to sell it?” Amelia asked.
“It’s inconveniently located.”
“Really?”
Mrs. Maccle answered, “It was once used for storing produce, to keep it out of bandit hands, just like the other warehouses. The outer walls were closer then, but the city has grown quite a bit in the intervening years. The place is too close to the city center now and was replaced by a newer building, to keep the main street clear during harvest, an important safety concern.”
Amelia looked out at the empty space, certain it was far more than she would ever need, but it was wonderfully close to the market, the office space was larger than the old family home, and best of all, her imagination was running wild with possibilities of fantastic new projects that would be open to her, with such a luxuriously large space to work! She’d been thinking of a few small flying machines, but with such a ridiculously large work area, there was no reason she couldn’t build whole airships, with plenty of room to spare.
In short, Amelia was falling in love with the possibilities.
She didn’t even notice Mrs. Maccle talking about the history of it, because her mind was running faster than ever, as still-greater images formed in her mind: a great, gleaming tower of steel rose from the ground in her imagination, carried aloft on a column of superheated steam!
The vision continued and she watched as the tower turned in the sky at the apogee of its flight, until it was parallel with the ground, at which point it used another burst of steam to accelerate until it was moving so fast, it circled the world, forever falling, but never reaching the ground!
It was possible and Amelia was going to do it! She just needed time and a proper workshop!
Her imagination filled the warehouse with custom equipment and workers, all of them reaching for the same goal, all of them looking to the sky. It wasn’t enough space, after all, but it was good enough for a start.
Mrs. Maccle stepped between Amelia and the visions produced by a free-running imagination under the influence of magic so subtle, Amelia didn’t even notice.
The older woman asked, “Amelia? Are you still with me, dear?”
Amelia blinked a few times, surprised by the sheer power of what she’d seen. She didn’t remember reading about any such thing in The Book of Newts, because she’d been so busy working, she’d never finished it, but with a strange certainty, she knew everything she needed to reach ‘orbit’ was in there.
That word was slightly worrying, because she didn’t recall ever hearing it before, but how else could one describe the circular path of an object flying around another, caught in the gravity of the larger mass, just like astronomers claimed their world and others like it circled Junas, the giant world the Gods lived on?
Something strange was happening and it was somehow related to The Book of Newts, but she needed to deal with the present.
Mrs. Maccle grinned, “Do you want this place, dear?”
“Yes, please.” Amelia nodded.
They spent a while discussing the price and Amelia haggled the woman down a bit, until they were both satisfied. Mrs. Maccle gave her the key, promising to bring the others her husband had, once Amelia had given them the money.
Amelia looked on the warehouse and paid close attention to magic as she did so. The visions came again, but this time, she knew them for what they were: the dream of someone else. She enjoyed the feeling of it, but knew the dream wasn’t her own, because it was too grand and ambitious.
She locked the building and headed back to camp in a thoughtful state.
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Amelia sat in her little wagon workshop and opened the book. She closed the door, shut the little window in the wall and lit a candle.
She looked down at the book where it sat in its usual place, seeing both the image of a newt that filled a whole page, surrounded by text describing every detail about the creature, and also a page full of crabby, tiny text so small, it could only have been done with a printing press, though it was hard to imagine more than one copy of The Book of Newts.
“What are you?” Amelia asked.
She wasn’t expecting an answer, because books don’t talk, but the pages of the book began flipping themselves. Eventually, the last page with text on it was turned, leading to the only blank page in it.
“There’s nothing here.” She grumbled, “What are you trying to tell me?”
The book flipped backwards, until a full-page diagram of the solar system was visible, along with a drawing and detailed description of yet another species of newt, depending on how she looked at it.
She ignored the newt and asked, “The heavenly spheres?”
One page flipped over, displaying an map-like collection of dots, each of them with a tiny, meticulous label, though there was no land or water depicted, only dots. Amelia’s eye was irresistibly drawn to a particular one. She read the name, shocked and surprised by what she saw there.
It read as ‘Solus’, the very name of the fiery orb Junas orbited. Other points near Solus were labeled Apreo, Uthec and Drues. They were the brightest stars in the sky, names everyone knew, because they were used for navigation at night, depending on which side of Junas the world was on.
She was even more shocked by the realization that the universe was much larger than she’d been taught, because the map had thousands of points on it, all named.
The page slowly flipped a dozen times or more, through star maps just like the first, hinting to Amelia at an even grander universe than she was currently capable of comprehending.
“I asked what you are and you show me nothing, then everything? I don’t understand!” She grumbled.
Her head ached and she felt exhausted, just the same as she did when she tried to do the energetic magic her sisters were capable of. She didn’t have the answer to her question, but she did have an answer she hadn’t expected: the magic turning the pages of the book had come from her, though she hadn’t been the one directing it. She was too tired to continue and that meant the answers the book could give for the day had come to an end, unless she wanted to read on her own.
For a time, she wondered if the book could be trusted, but soon discarded her worries. It had been teaching her things she could learn nowhere else and it had never before asked for anything, though in some strange way, it seemed to have a dream of its own.
Perhaps she owed something for the knowledge it had given. Perhaps the book’s dream was worth considering. After all, it was fascinating, a dream of travel to the stars and possibly even further.