A short time later, we made our way to Daniel’s personal workshop. It was a small place compared to some of the other private laboratories, located just below the main floor and underneath the foundations. I was dismayed to find the place in a terrible state of disarray. Half-finished projects and discarded experiments lined the walls and formed a shamble of piles across the floor. Small, cramped pathways had been left between these congregations of good intentions gone so horribly awry, and we used these to approach the main workbench located at the rear of the workshop. As we navigated the mess, I feared that one of Daniel’s creations would shift in its heap of creativity, and Patricia, Daniel, and I would be buried under the consequences of his scientific enthusiasm.

Daniel, for his part, seemed to be totally unaware of my reservations. Once we had entered the place, much of his brooding had fallen away. He now walked with a step unburdened by the cares and pressures of the outside world, and I could again see the excited young professor that seemed constantly underneath the surface.

Patricia did not apparently share in his enthusiasm, however. She never had enjoyed cluttered conditions, and Daniel’s workshop likely represented the worst offense to her fine hunter’s skills. She jumped at every creak of the piled machinery, brandished her carbine at the mess as if it would take the warning and keep to itself. It was only a moment before we reached the rear of the shop when she finally lost her patience. “Look, can we just get on with the investigation? There’ll be time for sightseeing later, Hector.”

I tried to hide my amusement at her discomfort. Her outraged glare made it clear that I had not precisely succeeded. “In good time, Ms. Anderson. I believe that what we may find here may help us resolve the matter entirely, and I believe it is worth a little unpleasantness to bring the matter to a happy conclusion. Do you not agree?” Patricia simply gave me another scathing look, and I turned back to find that we had arrived, apparently, at our destination.

The main workbench was obviously the heart of Daniel’s workshop. Unlike the rest of the laboratory, it remained free of clutter. Tools of various sorts and types were arranged on the wall above it, and the brass table that made up the workbench itself had been kept scrupulously clean of even the most common oil stains or grime. A handful of projects, obviously the current interests of our young professor friend, lay organized upon the metal surface.

With a small flourish, Daniel stepped to the side of the workbench. “May I present the most recent of my efforts in the field of Ethereal Engineering.” The words held a rehearsed air, as if he had practiced them for his presentation to Lord Devonshire. Daniel then picked up a series of interlocking gears, all of which were already turning thanks to the brass-enclosed Distillation crystals at their cores. In that same formal voice, he continued, “The first is an example of the newest gear assembly for the Messerchen gear-bike. I have managed to increase the power of the gearage by at least twenty percent, allowing for climbs up steeper inclines and higher speeds when desired.”

“A definite improvement.” Yet not, I suspected, the reason for the harassment of the academy. I motioned to the next project, which resembled a pair of metal wings attached to what looked like a modified backpack. Each wing was formed from metallic feathers. The quality of the artisanship was exquisite, as if the feathers had been plucked from some man-sized bird and reassembled. “Might I ask what you are working on here?”

Daniel nodded. His rehearsed speech fell away as he walked over to the wing. "Oh, of course, of course. My object is to prove some of the properties of the Distillation. We know many of the effects the crystal can have on a variety of objects. My theory clarifies those effects as a natural boost to such ethereal and intrinsic properties which those objects already possess. A gear thusly turns by its own intrinsic nature, and pistons pump for the same reason."

I nodded. I had heard such theories about the effects of the Distillation on men as well, that it merely brought out their hidden natures rather than interjecting something alien within their mortal frames. "An interesting theory, Mr. Summervale, and one with which we have grown familiar. Please continue."

With an almost reverent air, Daniel lifted the metallic wing and examined it carefully. "My own experiments have been intended to both prove that portion of ethereal science as well as expanding the available applications of the Distillation." He grinned like a schoolboy and tilted his head. "Tell me, Kingsley, what is a wing meant to do?"

I frowned over the question for a moment, and Patricia supplied the answer before I could speak. "To fly. Something has wings, it flies." I gave her a perturbed glance. "What?"

Still mildly annoyed, I turned back to Daniel and added my own answer. "She is correct. With a few notable exceptions, most wings are meant to provide lift." I reached out to run a hand along the length of the wing. "You mean to say that this wing is also meant to fly? On its own, like an airship?"

Daniel laughed. "Oh, much faster than those things, Kingsley. This wing isn't just meant to fly. The Daedalus Engine is meant to soar." He flourished with the metallic wings, and then set his creation gently on the table. "It is far from complete, but I have had much progress with the concept. Are there any other devices which capture your attention?"

Patricia once again took the liberty of answering for me. "What are these things?" I turned to find her holding a small object with an enclosed circular portion that made up the main body. A small lens was located on one side, while a brass knob in the center revealed the presence of a small amount of Distillation to power the contraption. More examples of the device were gathered in a small pile on the furthest end of the worktable.

The young professor shrugged. "I developed those as part of an effort to create autonomous photography. To my regret, most of the prototypes have fallen sadly short of expectations."

"Autonomous photography?" I frowned as I tried to puzzle out the meaning of the words. “You wanted to create a device that takes pictures without the need of a photographer?”

Daniel nodded. "It required quite a bit of work. So far, I have borrowed from the work of several artisans to frame them correctly, but I do believe I have recently managed a breakthrough. These are the functional models that I will later distribute to the workers upstairs." He picked up one of the devices and pointed to a small slot near the side most opposite the lens. “I managed to place a basic logic machine on the rearmost portion. With the appropriate card installed, it can determine what trigger is needed to set off the photograph portion of the mechanism.”

“Intriguing, Mr. Summervale.” The possibilities of such a device were incredible. My fingers nearly itched with the need to acquire one. “Might I borrow a few of the most recent examples? They may prove useful for my investigation.”

He nodded absently. “Of course, Kingsley, of course. The concept was already proven to the rest of the committee here, and as I said, we were planning on distributing them to the children this week. The design is hardly a secret now. Help yourself.”

I scooped up six of the devices and quickly secreted them about my person. I turned to find Patricia regarding me with some amusement, and I raised an eyebrow. “Is something the matter, Ms. Anderson?”

“Nothing at all, Hector, nothing at all.” She smiled and returned the device she had in her hands to the table. Then, with a rather dissatisfied air, she glanced about the workshop. “Can we leave, or are there more toys for you gentlemen to admire?”

Daniel looked somewhat indignant, but I merely made a pointed motion to the carbine she still held cradled in one arm. “Surely you would understand the need for efficient equipment, Ms. Anderson. I would hope you would not begrudge me the opportunity to acquire more such tools for myself.”

Patricia snorted, but she subsided. I returned my gaze to Daniel. “Are there any other new experiments which you have been developing? Particularly those that might have interested Lord Devonshire?”

A frown creased his brow for one fleeting moment. “Not that I can particularly recall, I’m afraid. While Lord Devonshire shows interest in all my developments, there has not been any one specific device that has held his attention.” Daniel’s eyes strayed back to the work table. “Then again, he did mention that this device showed much promise.”

I followed his gaze and found myself looking at a fairly nondescript pile of wires, pneumatic tubing, and gears. The mess looked somewhat half-finished and was surely far from any refined presentation. Compared with many of the other devices, it almost seemed to belong out on the floor of the workshop with Daniel’s other abandoned ideas. “Might I ask what it does?”

Daniel gestured vaguely. “It is an advanced form of computational mechanism. I constructed it with the idea of automating some of the industrial machinery in the area. Lord Devonshire found the idea interesting, to be certain, and he claimed that the concept would change how many things are made in London.” He glanced back at the device. “Unfortunately, the project thus far has not met his grandiose expectations.”

I glanced back at Patricia. She met my eyes and nodded slowly. While such a device would seem incredible to an inventor or nobleman, it would be a clear threat to any workman whose lifeblood depended on employment in a factory. All of which meant that anyone outside the walls of the academy who heard of the possible ramifications of Daniel’s work would easily have the motive to commit no end of mischief to bring the work to a halt. The workmen outside, already unfriendly to the Changlings, would only have had to hear a rumor in passing of Daniel’s efforts, and it would surely have brought seven kinds of wrath down on the school. “I am sure your setbacks are merely temporary, Mr. Summervale. Do not lose hope.”

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“I will strive not to, Kingsley. Perseverance wins the prize, and all that.” Daniel smiled warmly at me. “Is there anything else I might be able to show you?”

“Beyond the instructions on how to use the photograph devices, I believe I have infringed on your time more than enough, Mr. Summervale.” I extended a hand and shook his firmly. “You have been a great help.”

Mere minutes later, I followed Patricia back toward the gates of the academy. Now that she was free of the cramped conditions in Daniel’s workshop, a spring had returned to her step, and she nodded amiably to the children we passed.

Her happiness served as a minor, though effective, distraction to my own thoughts. Though I was encouraged by the discovery of a new tool with which to advance the course of my investigation, and though the possible motivations of the vandals had been illuminated, I found myself once again stymied by a lack of clear direction. The field of candidates for the crime was yet too broad. Try as I might, I had few ideas to further narrow the scope of my suspicions. In order to continue my progress, I needed more evidence. In order to obtain more evidence, regretfully, I required more crimes to be committed.

Loathe as I was to expose the charges of the Academy to further upset and danger, my only recourse was to encourage yet another assault upon their walls. As I pondered a way to reach this end, I spied out one of the students whose demeanor and appearance had become more than familiar to my eyes on my first visit. I caught sight of young Audrey playing with some of the other children near one of the walls. They had invented a form of tag, in which they would chase each other wildly across the patch of green grass, using their wings, tails, and other additions without any apparent restriction.

Audrey, flitting from place to place, was an obvious champion. She vanished in a flurry of sparks from under the careful claws of an enterprising young werewolf lad to appear upon a nearby windowsill. Laughing at her triumphant escape, the girl caught sight of me and Patricia as we crossed the remaining distance towards the gate. With a single, headlong rush of light and whimsy, Audrey danced her way through her interposing schoolmates and swirled to a tangible halt nearby.

I inclined my head as she arrived. “Hello, Ms. Summervale. A pleasure to meet you again.”

“’ello, Mr. Kingsley.” She gave a hesitant, hasty curtsy before she turned to regard Patricia. “Who’re you?”

Patricia, for her part, seemed remarkably amused by so direct a form of address. “My name’s Mustang.”

Audrey’s face screwed up in a frown. “Like a horse? Do people ride you?”

I hastily intervened. “Surely no one should say such a thing! Ms. Anderson is one of my friends. She helps me in my work.” Unsure of how my defense of her good name would be received, I risked a sidelong glance at Patricia, hoping against all odds that the carbine was not ready to fire.

I found, to my surprise, that Patricia’s face was a bright, embarrassed shade of red. The bounty hunter did recover a bit of her confident exterior, and she bent low near Audrey to bring her eyes level with the little Changling’s own. “That I do. We’re gonna head out to stop a few bad guys now, but we’ll be back. Okay?” Audrey gave a shy nod, and Patricia straightened. She met my eyes with a challenging stare, as if daring me to comment on her discomfort. “Ready to go, Hector?”

“Certainly.” My mind still whirled with the relief of having escaped yet another episode of Patricia’s displeasure, and the half-formed pieces of my strategies were carried along in the storm. I turned to follow her along the path once more when little Audrey spoke up again. Her voice was painfully uncertain, and her words brought me to an immediate halt.

“Th’ mean people came back. They knew me, put my name on th’ wall.” The dear girl glanced toward the gate, and I felt a stab of guilt. Had the school cleaned the marks off immediately, she might never have known. It was my request which must have given her the opportunity to see the mention of her name.

Before I could recover from my own internal rebukes, Patricia returned. “You won’t need to worry about that much. Hector and me, we’ll take care of it.”

Audrey looked back toward me. “How’re you going t’ do that?”

An idea coalesced at last within the confines of my skull. “I have a plan, actually, and I require your help.” I drew out a slim piece of paper and wrote a hurried message upon it. This note I handed over to the little girl. “Ms. Summervale, you are familiar with the governor’s office?” She nodded, her fingers clutching at the paper tightly. “Then I entrust this message to you. Ensure that it reaches Mr. Benton with all haste, please.”

The girl nodded. A bright smile now played across her lips. “I’ll get it t’ him quick, Mr. Kingsley. You can count on Audrey!”

I made a partial bow. “I am in your debt, Ms. Summervale.” She nodded again and vanished into a cloud of sparks, once again dancing her way through the breeze and the schoolmates, winding her whimsical way toward the office on the fourth floor. I watched until she filtered through the walls, and then I turned to find Patricia regarding me. An uncharacteristically solemn expression was fixed upon her face, and I felt a trickle of worry. “Ms. Anderson? Is something wrong?”

Patricia shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong, Hector. It seems you are doing just fine.” She shifted the gun on her shoulder, as if its weight was suddenly uncomfortable. “In fact, I have started to wonder if you need my help with these cases at all, or if I’m just mucking up the process.”

Surprised at her downcast expression, I fumbled for an appropriate response. “Of course you have been helpful, Ms. Anderson. I apologize for my carelessness if I had given you any other impression.”

As if she remained unconvinced, Patricia shook her head and grinned. “Why, thank you, Hector. I’m glad to hear it.” She glanced up at the sky, looking as if she was judging the time by the position of the sun overhead. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid I do have somewhere else to be, Hector. A previous appointment with Lord Dafferty, remember?”

I hesitated. A careful response was obviously required. “Indeed I do, Ms. Anderson. May I wish you well on your journey?”

Patricia raised her eyebrows at me. Then, to my relief, she laughed. “Of course Hector! That’s what friends are for.”

“Then may your endeavors this night be successful and your pathway safe.” I gave her as much of a bow as I thought discreet. When I straightened I found a small smile of amusement playing about her lips. “I thank you again for your assistance and encouragement, Ms. Anderson.”

She turned away, the blush still curiously high in her cheeks. “Anytime, Hector, anytime at all.” With that cursory farewell, Patricia strode away. Her carbine still slanted over her shoulder and a swagger imprinted permanently in her stride, I had nothing but a sense of pity for anyone foolish enough to impede her in her duties.

As for myself, I had other tasks to accomplish before the sun went down. Lowering my head and walking quickly toward the gate, I began to plot out the next of my investigative moves as the twilight gathered around me. It was to be a long night.

Fortunately, my first destination was not far from the academy itself. From the front gate, I walked briskly to the edge of one of the great factories that ringed the school. Workmen, still present in spite of the late hour, eyed me suspiciously as I approached. In response, I merely gave them a friendly nod and turned as if I intended to make another round of the academy. Their hostility soon faded from alert, distrustful glares into murmuring curses and uncouth gestures sent in my direction—when I was not looking directly at them, of course. Their opinion of anyone attempting to guard the school was obvious and clear.

The reality of the matter was that I had little interest in patrolling the streets outside the academy. If the perpetrators had already been able to get the better of several guards, one more man on the grounds was not likely to change matters sufficiently, and though I knew my skills were more than adequate to catch the culprits, I did not think so highly of myself that I would be able to catch them using such standard tactics.

Thus, my aim in my wandering transit was somewhat different than the unimaginative observers would believe. When I had left the workmen far enough behind that my actions would be concealed under cover of the gathering dark, I stepped quickly from my previous path and fished inside the pockets of my cloak for one extraordinary device I had acquired from an artificer some months previous.

It was a tool that had given me some advantage in several cases previously. A small rod about half the length of my forearm, it contained a spool of metal cord coiled and at the ready. At the very end of that thread was a modified grapnel, powered in part by a sliver of Distillation and capable of finding a perch in any suitable spot. I unwound this thread, and after several tries, swung the grapnel to the top of the nearby wall, where it made itself fast to the stone there.

After a few cautious tugs to assure myself that the grapnel was still functional, I activated the second feature of my climbing tool. A single lever released the Distillation-driven gears contained within, and I found myself rising through the air toward my ultimate destination, unseen and unhindered by the workmen below. My ascent was fairly steady, though at one point the grapnel above me shifted in a decidedly ominous fashion.

Fortune held my previous poor luck at bay, and I reached the edge of the wall without further incident. A flick of the lever disengaged the gearage from the cord, preventing it from ruining the device. A similar twist at the base of the grapnel itself disengaged the Distillation crystal from the rest of it, allowing me to free the device from the stone. Slipping the tool within my coat, I crouched low on the wall and set to work on the next portion of my plan.

From the depths of my pockets, I retrieved one of the camera devices from Daniel’s inventory. This mechanism I set close to the edge of the wall facing the academy compound. I made particularly sure to fix it so the broad face of the wall was within range.

Next, I drew out a small card with a particular series of holes punched through it. The holes represented a pattern of Lovelace programming meant to organize the decision engine within the body of the camera. That decision engine would then direct the camera to take a picture when its instructions had been fulfilled. In this case, a picture would only be taken once a bright contrast in light and dark existed, hopefully corresponding to the vandalism of the wall.

I had obtained a set of these cards from Daniel along with his cameras, making sure the young professor knew exactly the particulars of the parameters I desired. I wondered what he thought I needed them for, but that hardly mattered to the task at hand. I inserted the card in the slot at the back of the camera, listening as the mechanism inside whirred and clicked. When it settled back to stillness with a single definitive chime, I nodded in satisfaction. Young though he might be, Daniel had obvious talent as an artisan, and I would be sure to credit him when his devices allowed me to capture a glance of the intruding vandals this night. Surely it would earn him the gratitude and continued patronage of Lord Devonshire at the very least, and perhaps in return Daniel would include me in any other new baubles his inventor’s mind would develop.

Reactivating the grapnel with another twist, I made it fast to a more promising, stable section of the wall top and dropped the climbing tool off the wall. I listened for a moment until it struck the stones below with a metallic clank. Then I grasped the cord and rappelled down, taking the time to look back over my shoulder and locate four more likely places to leave cameras around the compound. The next time the vandals came for mischief, they and their plans would fall directly into my hands. Of this fact, I was terribly sure.