The morning was gray and overcast, as if London had heard of my optimistic mood concerning my endeavors and had called to the weather to upset my purpose. I did not know if rain was likely, but I refused the extra burden of an umbrella. My current equipment was already more than sufficient to impress even the most experienced campaigner. Since I was not sure that my quarry this day would go quietly, I carried my cane and my pistol, as well as an assortment of other tools related to the rougher parts of my trade. Patricia’s brass knuckles, spice grenades and other assorted weapons were among them.
Of course, flight was almost as common a reaction as fight, and so I was well prepared for that eventuality as well. My climbing tool, bullet shield, gas mask, and other miscellanea completed my inventory. With such preparation, I believed myself ready for the rigors of the case. Aside from those final concerns, I knew that today was the day my financial problems would finally be over.
Daniel and Audrey had departed earlier that morning, intending to return to the academy and inform the governor that the vandals had finally been subdued. The young professor and his sister had both seemed to be relieved at the prospect of a future free of threats and dark dealings, and I could hardly blame their enthusiasm. In fact, I shared their good feelings, though my own were more motivated by the possibility of paying my rent and other obligations on time.
I did admit to feeling a certain satisfaction that Rook and the rest of his men were buried under the smoldering ruins of their own lair. Perhaps it might have had something to do with the remaining damage to my home, or the threat they had posed to the well-being of my friends and clients, but no reason could ever have lessened the level of joy I felt for it. Besides, such feelings were only natural after an ordeal like the one I had been through.
All the same, I was further heartened by the fact that today I would solve the Pevensley bombing. My involvement with that family had already passed far beyond my level of comfort, and I was rapidly approaching the time when I would not have to see any of them ever again. Considering my treatment at the hands of Lady Pevensley, it should not be hard to understand my eagerness as I approached their gate for what I could only hope was the last time.
As I drew close, I began to notice some differences among the guards. There were less of them now, with only a handful scattered around the grounds. Many of those still present were not the same. I could tell by their demeanor, the measured, competent manner with which they carried themselves, and by the careful inspection that each of them made of their surroundings. These were not the same, barely aware guards who had slunk along the walls and accosted visitors at the gate. I had no illusions as to where those guards had gone when these had taken their place.
When I reached the gate, the single guard there raised an eyebrow at the armaments he must have noticed. I presented my identification, which he examined thoroughly. He then asked for my cane, and a few of my other personal items of equipment, all of which he examined briefly before returning them. To be truthful, I did not know which issue I found more intimidating about the new guard—the fact that he had recognized my weapons, or the fact that he had regarded them as nonthreatening. Either way, it was only a minor relief to pass the gate and enter the estate itself.
I found Lord Pevensley, along with his dear, sweet wife and his estranged brother, in the same grand parlor where I had last met him. I apparently had just missed the opportunity to observe a terrific argument between the three of them, from the frozen, stubborn looks on their faces and the utterly horrified expressions of the servants who darted in and out of the room like rats in a cat breeder’s back yard. The man who had escorted me to the room likewise fled, leaving me alone with the three nobles and the utterly frigid silence.
For a long moment, I simply waited for one of them to acknowledge me; even the scorn of Lady Pevensley would have been sufficient to begin the conversation. Unfortunately for me, the moment simply stretched, hardened, and became permanent. It was as if a wall of silence had descended over the entire meeting.
Finally, just as I had opened my mouth to address Lord Pevensley directly, Mr. Muire broke into the room, escorted by two of the new guards. He surveyed the situation briefly, and then nodded to the other two guards. They retreated, though not as eagerly as the servants beforehand, and Muire nodded to me.
I inclined my head in response. “Mr. Muire. It is a delight to once again make your acquaintance.”
“Mr. Kingsley.” He turned to Lord Pevensley. “My lord, you requested my presence.”
“Yes, Muire.” Lord Pevensley’s voice was brittle and terse. He raised one finger and pointed it at Howard Pevensley. “Yes, I did ask for you. I would like this man escorted off my property. Then I would like the guards to be given notice that he is not to be permitted on the grounds after that.”
Howard’s face went pale with rage, and he opened his mouth to respond. Before anyone could say anything more, I cleared my throat. “Lord Pevensley? If I could ask your indulgence for a moment before any such decisions are made?”
All three nobles turned to study me, wolves eying an impertinent sheep. Muire studied me as well, though his hand was fortunately far from his pistol grip this time. I endeavored to smile, and continued.
“Lord Pevensley, you contracted me to locate the person or persons responsible for the attempt to kill you. I am happy to report that I have now done so.”
Reactions flickered across all four faces, though Muire’s expression went characteristically blank with the usual speed. Howard’s face showed a grim kind of trepidation, while Lady Pevensley’s revealed her victorious glee. Lord Pevensley merely watched me, his face neutral. He gestured impatiently. “Well, then, tell me. No reason to wait, no reason at all.”
I nodded reluctantly. “If I may explain the situation fully, Lord Pevensley, I believe it would provide necessary context for the crime and for how we should deal with the perpetrator. In this manner, you may feel secure about my conclusions as to their identity and motive as well.”
Lady Pevensley snorted in mocking disbelief. “Oh, come out with it. It was Howard and we all know it. He wanted to cover the affair with his kitchen maid and receive the benefits of his brother’s station at the same time, and the bomb was the easiest way to accomplish that aim.”
Howard was out of his chair and shouting before I could draw a breath. “How can you accuse me of such a thing?! Your callous disregard of my loyalty and my honor is unbearable, Ophelia, and in this instance, you are entirely out of line. Perhaps your shadowy network of informants and spies has finally led you astray?”
Lord Pevensley spoke, his voice still cold. “Howard, Ophelia. I expect civil treatment and polite silence from both of you until Mr. Kingsley has made his explanation. Silence, or you will both suffer consequences.” As Howard slowly settled in his seat and Lady Pevensley slouched petulantly in hers, his eyes returned to mine. “You may proceed, Mr. Kingsley.”
“Thank you, Lord Pevensley.” I straightened my shoulders. “The first piece of evidence we must consider is the bomb itself. It was placed rather meticulously along your path, and in such a manner that the perpetrator must have known only you would trigger the explosive.” Here I paused, for my next statement was sure to draw a protest.
“At the same time, I do not believe the perpetrator intended to harm you.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Howard and Lady Pevensley looked at each other in surprise, for both of them had shouted at once. They glared at each other, and then turned to unleash another combined salvo of outrage against me, when Lord Pevensley held up a hand. The two of them cut off as they remembered his threat. He responded in a much more agitated tone this time.
“The fireball seemed quite real enough, Mr. Kingsley. Quite real indeed.”
“You are correct, Lord Pevensley, but the blast was ill placed if the intent was harm you. Additionally, a truly lethal bomb would contain more than flame; even a few chunks of shrapnel would have created far more problems for a man in its vicinity. I believe it was meant to threaten or frighten you instead.”
Lord Pevensley thought for a moment. He nodded shortly. “An intent it has then achieved. May I ask what purpose this criminal found in threatening me?”
I shook my head. “This detail is not something I know. I do, however, have further insight into their methods and planning that you might find interesting.” With one hand, I produced the letter which had been sent to me days before. “This letter was sent, bearing your brother’s name, to my apartment. It accuses Lady Pevensley of conspiring to murder you for a variety of reasons, and intimates that he was fearful of becoming the next target.”
Howard’s face had grown disturbed by the presentation of the letter. Lady Pevensley flushed red with outrage as well. “If he thinks he can get away with insulting me in such a fashion, Danforth, your brother is sorely mistaken.”
“The letter, Lady Pevensley, did not come from Mr. Pevensley. It was false. He himself has disavowed the accusations against you, and in fact was insulted on your behalf that they were ever made.” Lady Pevensley stopped, mid-outburst, and stared at me. Slowly, she settled back in her seat as I continued. “Such a forgery was meant to be effective for the short duration of the investigation only, since at some point Mr. Pevensley would reappear and the ruse would be obvious. While it provides much detailed evidence against Lady Pevensley, it was only meant to confuse my efforts rather than truly incriminate you, my lady.”
“It does provide a window into the methods of our perpetrator. The details imply an intimate knowledge of the affairs of the household, from the relationship of Mr. Pevensley with Ms. Buxley, to the arguments between Lord and Lady Pevensley. Further, the person who left this letter must have known that I was absent from my apartment in an interview with Lady Pevensley, rather than at home, where I might have surprised them in the act of leaving it.”
A speculative look had come into Lord Pevensley’s eyes. He tilted his head to one side, and when he spoke, his voice was far less brittle than before. “That must narrow the list of suspects quite considerably, Mr. Kingsley. Quite considerably indeed.”
“As you might imagine, Lord Pevensley.” I made a half-bow to the nobleman and continued. “Still, I needed a more compelling piece of evidence if I was to narrow the list of suspects even further.”
Howard spoke next. “Might I ask how you would manage to do that? It would seem that most of the evidence uncovered so far is falsified against other people.”
I gave him a crooked grin. “True enough, Mr. Pevensley, but it is also evidence that the bomber personally planted. It will give us insights into his or her methods and intentions. Such insights will help us to uncover their identity. Right here, right now, today.”
Lady Pevensley coughed lightly. “And how do you propose to do so, Mr. Kingsley? Remember, we are not going to be impressed by parlor tricks.”
“Of course not, my lady. I will demonstrate the method shortly. First, however, might I ask what conversation you had with Mr. Muire on the day of the attack?”
My question was greeted with silence. Lady Pevensley regarded me with barely concealed disdain. “I had no such conversation that day, Mr. Kingsley. I spent most of the morning attending to the affairs of my personal agents, and was therefore unavailable for idle chit-chat.”
I let my expression grow serious. She met my gaze without flinching. “You are certain about that, Lady Pevensley. Absolutely sure.”
The noblewoman drew herself up and glared at me. “I am perfectly sure, Mr. Kingsley. Mr. Muire and I had no conversation on the morning of the bombing.”
With a suddenly triumphant heart, I turned to Mr. Muire. “Therefore it is not possible that you suggested to Mr. Muire that he wear his Wenderforth boots, Lady Pevensley?”
She began to answer, and then paused. The tension in the air grew more noticeable. “No, Mr. Kingsley, it is not.”
After an appropriate passage of time, I asked another question. “Mr. Muire. Might I ask you what occupied your time while I accompanied Lady Pevensley in her carriage?”
Muire returned my gaze. His impassive face gave little clue to his thoughts. “I would rather not say, Mr. Kingsley.”
Lord Pevensley stared at his bodyguard. “Muire, I’m afraid we must insist on an answer here. You will answer Mr. Kingsley immediately.”
With a slow shake of his head, Muire reached for his pistol. I tensed, my fingers ready to dart for the grip of my own weapon. He spoke, his eyes still focused entirely on me. “No, Lord Pevensley, I will not.”
I spoke carefully, inching my hand toward my pistol. “You realize, Mr. Muire, that your refusal implicates you as our culprit.”
“I do indeed, Mr. Kingsley. It is not a misunderstanding, however. I placed the bomb in the gardens, of my own volition and without accomplices.” He paused and looked to Lord Pevensley. “I did not, however, intend to harm you in any way, sir. The investigator is correct in that regard.”
Lord Pevensley’s face flushed red with anger. “As if that excuses your actions, Muire. You were my bodyguard. You were responsible for my safety. How did you believe that you were executing that responsibility by attacking me in my own home?”
Muire shifted his gaze to Howard and Lady Pevensley, both of whom were frozen in their seats from shock. His lips twisted in disgust. “I had reasons enough, sir. Your wife and brother had both urged you, in order to satisfy their own whims, to disband or reduce your personal guard. Your staff had already done a poor job of hiring effective men to safeguard you; further reductions would only increase the likelihood of an assassin reaching your person.”
Howard leaned forward in his seat. “So your solution was to threaten his life? Prove he needed protection?”
The guard nodded slowly. “If that was my only recourse, I would remind you that it was you and Lady Pevensley who drove me to it. My every suggestion had been ignored. Funds went to maintain your political aspirations, personal agents and secret relationships that should have been spent to protect the man on whom you both depended. I could no longer stand it.”
Lady Pevensley stood. She drew herself up in regal dignity and stared at Muire. “Danforth, I think our course is clear. You must dismiss this ungrateful wretch and press charges. Clearly we placed far too much trust in him, and he abused our good will to hire a mob of lackeys to ‘protect’ us.”
Her husband remained silent, studying his bodyguard with a detached kind of interest. Betrayal and anger warred for dominance on his features, all restrained by the efforts and habits of a life lived among the powerful and influential in London. Then Lord Pevensley turned to me, his eyes filled with a certain kind of desperation I normally saw in only the least fortunate of men. “Mr. Kingsley, if I may beg a favor of you one final time.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
I nodded wordlessly. He hesitated and spoke quietly and calmly, as if he were discussing the weather. “Might I ask what you would do with Mr. Muire, were you in my position?”
Lady Pevensley spoke before I could manage a word. “You cannot be serious, Danforth! Why would you trust the judgment of a common thief catcher over my own?”
Howard’s response caught her before the tirade could continue. “Perhaps because your judgment would have landed me in prison days ago.” He turned to his brother. “Still, I do wonder at the wisdom of this choice, brother. He is an able investigator, but he has not been wronged as you have been. Why not make the decision yourself?”
“I will make the decision, Howard. I merely wish to hear his views. After all, I would not have known of this without his help. I would not have known any of this at all.” Pevensley continued to watch me. “Well, Mr. Kingsley, what would you say?”
I hesitated. “I am afraid I cannot say, Lord Pevensley. I am not entirely familiar with the legal precedents, nor the standard rulings of the court in this case.” It was, of course, one of the convenient lies one tells to avoid being dragged into an argument that is not one’s business. An investigator does not work for long without becoming intimately familiar with the legal code, though mostly it was to know when the line between legitimate and shady had been crossed and caution was needed. At the same time, I had no desire to earn an enemy in Muire, as even from jail, those with justifiable ire can find ways to make trouble.
Unfortunately, Lord Pevensley was in no mood to let me escape the situation. “If I desired legal counsel, rest assured that I have many esteemed solicitors with whom I can discuss the matter. I asked for your view of the situation, and as the man who uncovered the plot, I believe your word carries a certain commendable quality. Would you jail him? Report his actions to society at large, and thus blacklist him from other such opportunities for employment? Or should I simply dismiss him and take the good of his service along with the bad? What is your perspective?”
Seeing no alternative, I inclined my head and thought over the possibilities. Muire, for his part, made no offensive moves, and I began to realize that he did not intend to do so. Though he might have held Lady Pevensley and Howard in contempt, he still obviously respected Lord Pevensley and might actually abide by his former master’s decision. It was only a tragedy to me that in his efforts to make his master more secure, he would be tainted and turned away from the cause he had been willing to sacrifice everything—even honorable conduct itself—to achieve. An idea occurred to me, and I looked back at Lord Pevensley and smiled.
“A solution has occurred to me, Lord Pevensley.” I glanced to where Muire stood. “It is obvious that Mr. Muire is no longer fit to act as a bodyguard. Though he did so for reasons he believed to be good, his actions require that he be turned away from the position.” Grim acceptance now made its mark on Muire’s face. He clenched his teeth, and his head bowed as if he had resigned himself to the moment of rejection. Before anyone else could speak, I continued.
“At the same time, it would be of benefit to you and to your estate if Mr. Muire remained here. He has been able to secure adequate protection for you and your family, and quite obviously remains devoted to you, despite his regrettable errors.” Muire’s head came up, and his eyes searched mine for a moment. I then turned away and focused on Lord Pevensley.
“My suggestion is that Mr. Muire be retained, not as a bodyguard, but as a test for the guards you have hired. He is familiar with your estate, and is obviously skilled in methods of intrusion and sabotage. If he were to perform several trial attacks a year…” I trailed off suggestively, and understanding began to dawn in Lord Pevensley’s eyes.
“…Then the quality of our guard will be guaranteed, in spite of his dismissal. He might even be able to act as a trainer of sorts, to make sure that new guards are capable of fulfilling their duties.” Lord Pevensley regarded Muire speculatively. “An interesting solution, Mr. Kingsley, interesting indeed. Elegant as well, if I may say so. I believe it may work after all.” The hope and relief that now filled Muire’s expression was wonderful to behold, and I felt a burst of satisfaction, as the case had now come to a satisfactory conclusion for all involved. Something of that exhilaration must have shown on my face, for Lord Pevensley turned an indulgent smile on me.
“Now then, with that matter done, we can turn to other business. I believe you were promised recompense, and as Mustang told me, you were worth every shilling. Would half again the original amount agreed upon be considered sufficient?”
Suddenly the day was looking quite bright indeed.
As I left the Pevensley estate behind, I felt a certain spring in my step. There was a bank note for a considerable sum in my coat pocket, safeguarded by a wallet with a complex mechanical lock. The confrontation I had expected with Mr. Muire had turned out to be a mere opportunity to again impress Lord Pevensley, and as a result, I was nearly certain that both Mr. Muire and Lord Pevensley might be relied on for future references, work, and information. All in all, the week was not yet done and as my father had said, my harvest was bountiful.
As I began to leave the estate, I noticed a small confrontation at the gate. The guard had been joined by at least three of his fellows, and all had their hands on their pistol grips. Most of the men had even crouched and taken up firing positions behind the nearest available cover, their attention fully focused on whoever was facing them at the gate. Despite my natural inclination to avoid such scenes, I found myself drawn toward this one, curious as to who would challenge such intimidating guards, and what reason would cause them to do so.
It was with little surprise that I found Patricia at the center of it all. I called out to the guards, who ignored me completely. Realizing that my good impression would easily be wasted if Patricia shot half of Pevensley’s new home guard, I broke into a short jog and laid a hand on the man who had brought me in. “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot. The lady is with me.”
“Your pardon, sir, but this woman is no lady. She is rather heavily armed, and…” The guard’s words trailed off as I stared at him. He closed his mouth, opened it, and then closed it again. When I trusted my voice, I made an extraordinary effort to speak evenly.
“Ms. Anderson is a respectable lady of the highest character. You will not molest her, nor refer to her without a measure of respect while I remain a welcome guest here at the estate. Do you understand?”
The guard met my eyes with a level look. After a long silence, he spoke firmly. “She still cannot come in with the carbine.”
“Very well. I will meet with her outside. Good day.” I turned on my heel and stalked toward Patricia. Her expression was quite agitated, and I immediately grew concerned. “Ms. Anderson? Do not worry about the guards; they are merely attempting to do their job.”
“The guards can jump in the Thames for all I care!” She gestured for me to follow her, and I was forced to walk quickly to avoid being left in her wake. “The constables started to sift through the rubble at the foundry. Guess what they found?”
I felt a fond smile grow on my lips. “A rather well-baked golem?”
“Nothing.” The flat tone of her words restored my concerns, and I looked at her in surprise. “No werewolves, no thugs, no golem. Rook must have escaped, and his men got out with him.”
Alarm now flowed through me. “We need to get to the academy to warn them.”
Patricia’s face grew grim. “I already stopped a cart. We’ll be there in half an hour.”
In the world of crime, there is no more sacred place to a criminal than their lair. It is a place of safety, a refuge from investigation and competition alike. Cities as crowded as London have limited room for such enterprises, especially of the larger sort, and intrusions upon such spaces are frowned upon. The mere presence of an outsider in a lair invites severe reprisals. Along the same line of thought, the destruction of a lair was equated to murder—or worse, depending on the band of criminals involved.
The reactions to such an event were the stuff of underworld legend. In some cases, body parts would still turn up, years later, once their hiding place was accidentally uncovered. Given Rook’s previous determination to act against us, and his lack of concern for our well-being, his response to the burning of the foundry would be a serious threat, especially since Patricia and I lacked the official authority and protection of the constabulary. More especially, the threat to the academy was almost worse, given the number and vulnerability of potential targets there.
Thus it was with the greatest anxiety that we rode toward the academy. The horseless cart had a driver that must have been nigh mad to careen through the streets at such speed, but I appreciated his urgency in this case. For although the wheels stuttered over the cobblestones at a bone-jarring pace, and although the streets behind us were littered with near collisions and cursing bystanders, I could already see smoke in the sky over the academy. I greatly feared what we would find when we arrived.
My worries were all too justified. As we turned wildly onto the final street, the column of smoke had grown thicker and more distinct, and as I looked to the source, I found a scene of unrivaled chaos and brutality.
A mob surrounded the walls of the academy. Shouting workmen carried tools, improvised clubs, and torches, which they brandished at anyone nearby. Members of the constabulary were attempting to quell the riot, though their uniforms were virtually lost amid the roiling mass of people. Bystanders observed the whole situation as if it were a carnival game, with many onlookers pointing and jeering.
Yet the most terrifying presence there was the knot of men standing nearest the gates. They wore brass armor reminiscent of diving suits, and each carried modified air guns. Though I had seen them before, wise men kept their distance whenever they were seen. It was the Hazard Containment Brigade, who were only called to the most disastrous of situations.
The reason they were here was terribly clear. Fire filled the windows of the academy, and smoke belched from the building into the cloudy gray sky. The sentries who had once stood guard over the school lay on the street outside, either dead or unconscious, while a certain number of the faculty and students were clustered around them some distance from the wall. I yelled to the driver and pointed in their direction, and he complied by turning the cart.
Fortunately, the nearest groups of workmen and constables noticed our arrival and made way for the incoming vehicle. As the driver brought us to a sudden halt just short of the people from the academy, I leaped from the cart and ran toward them. I saw Mr. Benton, who was staring at the conflagration with a stunned, despairing look on his face. He barely glanced at me as I approached. “You needn’t bother, Mr. Kingsley. It is all finished and done now. We are ruined.”
Stung by his acrid tone, I responded with some uncertainty. “I came the moment I realized they might return, Mr. Benton. Is there anything I might do to help?”
The governor of the school came out of his trancelike state long enough to glare at me. Hate filled his eyes, hate born of resentment and failure. “You might have done your job, Mr. Kingsley, and prevented this catastrophe from happening in the first place. You might have resolved the situation without trapping half our students and professors inside a burning building. You might at least have refrained from sending false tidings of victory while the very people you pretended to stop plotted murder and arson within our very walls. That, Mr. Kingsley, is what you might have done.”
I swallowed the words I had been about to speak and made a search among the gathered teachers. “Where is Mr. Summervale? Did he make it out?”
“Yes, yes, he was never inside. After he visited me, he returned to his testing field for that confounded Daedalus device of his. He is trying to regain entry to the school at the moment; I am sure you could find him there. Whatever you might accomplish with such a thing, I cannot imagine. Good day, Mr. Kingsley.” He looked away from me and returned to his bitter study of the fires. Tears now lined his face, and guilt swept over me like a storm.
Desperate to find some way to help, I rushed to the gates. With some small feats of agility and a determination worthy of Odysseus himself, I won through the crowd and managed to reach the gates, where I found Daniel engaged in a struggle with the Brigade. His ineffectual blows were turned aside by their brass armor, and a single heavy shove sent him stumbling backwards. I caught him before he fell. As he fought his way upright I called to him over the bedlam around us.
“Daniel! Daniel, what is going on?” He turned blindly toward me, and then he recognized my face. Suddenly he clutched at my arms.
“Kingsley! They came just as the morning classes were ending. They barricaded half the doors, locked the tubes, and then fire! Fire everywhere.” Daniel turned back to the gate, his face in a grimace of fear and grief. “Kingsley, Audrey is still in there.”
His words awakened a true feeling of horror in me, and I turned again to look at the academy. The fire was spreading quickly, far more quickly than I would have imagined considering the simple construction within it. As the inferno built, I imagined Daniel’s sister, trapped by the flames or rendered unconscious by smoke, and made my decision. “I will retrieve her, Mr. Summervale. Give me a moment.”
It was obvious that the Brigade was not about to let anyone through the gates; they were usually called to contain the dangers of the Distillation, and a fire among the Distillation-filled workshops of the academy certainly justified their presence. I needed an alternate method to access the facility, and I needed it fast. Casting my eyes about, I found Daniel’s experimental wing leaning against the wall. “Mr. Summervale, is the design for your prototype completed?”
Daniel stared at me, his expression vacant of understanding. “What? The Daedalus? Certainly, yes, I was about to test it when…” He trailed off and realization dawned. “Kingsley you can’t!”
“Mr. Summervale, please let me decide what I will and will not do.” I walked over to the Daedalus and picked up the device. Metal though it was, it seemed remarkably light. Now I only needed a place from which to jump, and the high wall of a nearby factory provided a perfect spot. “If you would come with me, Mr. Summervale, I will need your help directly.”
I started to walk toward the wall, but the mob seemed to sense my intent and closed in around me. Workmen with snarling faces and heavy clubs barred the way. One of them, a heavyset man with a hard hat and some sort of oversized wrench, stepped up to confront me. “You won’t be going anywhere today, guv. You’re one of those from the school, right? Well, you’re going to just watch it burn, just like the Roarington foundry did yesterday.” A murmur of agreement came up from the other workmen, and several brandished their clubs threateningly.
As I started to reach for my pistol, I heard a shot ring out. Sparks burst from the leader’s wrench, and he dropped it with a yelp. Patricia’s voice rang over the noise of the crowd. “You’re going to back away, and you’ll do it now, if you’re smart.” As the leader took a step back, she fired a second shot. It shattered a cobblestone at his feet. “That’s right, keep it going. Back up!”
The workmen, showing themselves unwilling to brave her fire, scattered before us. They left behind a pair of constables who showed themselves no braver than the workmen had been. I turned to find Patricia stalking along behind us, her carbine ready to fire. She glared at me in a very foreboding manner. “Just what did you think you were doing? Leaving me behind like a nursemaid with the driver?”
“My thanks, Ms. Anderson.” I motioned to the wall. “There are students and teachers still trapped in the building, along with Ms. Summervale. We need to reach that spot over there so we can mount a rescue.”
Patricia frowned as she joined us. “Audrey’s inside? How are we going to get her out by going over there?”
“Patience Ms. Anderson, and all will become clear to you.” I handed the wing to Daniel as we approached and drew out my climbing tool. The cord spooled out easily until I had enough to reach the lip of the wall. “Mr. Summervale, is there anything I need to know about how to control the Daedalus?”
Daniel shook his head, apparently still numb from the panic and sudden hope. “No. It’s never been tested with a passenger, so there’s nothing to say. It should work, but I don’t know…” His words seemed to fail him, and before he could recover, Patricia spoke.
“Hector, why do you need to know how to use that thing? What are you going to do?” I threw the grapple and struck the edge of the wall. It stayed firm and steady as I tugged at it. When I was sure it was attached securely, I turned back and gave her a grim smile.
“Ms. Anderson, our friends are trapped inside. Someone will need to go and get them. I intend to do so.” Shock showed in her expression, but I turned away to take the winged device from Daniel. “You’re quite certain it should work.”
Daniel nodded, still apparently struggling with the words. “Yes, Kingsley, it should give you the lift you need to remain airborne. I am not sure how long the effect will last, but it could allow you to reach all the way to the main building.” He paused and looked down. When he met my eyes again, Daniel managed a smile. “Thank you Kingsley, and good luck to you.”
“To us both, Mr. Summervale.” I gave the cord a final tug to ensure its safety; I was being remarkably cautious for one so foolhardy. I was about to activate the climbing tool when Patricia stopped me. When I looked up, I found her with a strange, disbelieving expression I had never seen before.
“You’re really going to do this.” Unable to lie to her, I nodded. She looked away for a moment, studying the blaze that engulfed the academy. Patricia swallowed and glanced back at me. She swept the goggles from her head and handed them to me. “The smoke will be thick, but these will help you see.” She paused. “Be careful. Come back safe.”
“I will strive to, Ms. Anderson.” The moment over, I gave them one last dignified nod, tugged at the cord one last time, and sighed. “Until next we meet.” Then I triggered the climbing tool and rose through the smoky air toward the ledge, the Daedalus pulling awkwardly at my hand.
A moment later, I was crouched atop the ledge. I spent a moment preparing myself. My coat I drew tightly around me. My gas mask I settled firmly against my face, and Patricia’s goggles slid comfortably over my eyes. Finally, I returned my climbing tool to my pocket and stared out across the distance between me and my goal. All was ready.
I shifted the Daedalus device so I held it in both hands. It was possibly meant to be worn on my back, but I did not quite trust the straps that far. Besides, depending on the manner of my landing, I wished to be free of it in a hurry, if that was called for. As I gathered myself for the leap, workmen and constables began to notice me. Many began to turn and point, and the members of the Brigade started to gesture frantically in my direction.
Then, Patricia yelled at me from below, as if some horrific thought had occurred to her. “Hector, what about the Distillation?!”
Despite myself, I smiled and called back to her. “Do not worry, Ms. Anderson. I am quite special enough already.” With that, I leaped from the wall and began my flight.