Dawn of Steam: Gods of the Sun (41 page)

Aside from Sam, the others revel in telling the stories, and being amazed that we made it. I think the two of us understand each other better now. I had to plan and scheme and drill every warning into my mind, treating the mountain as if it was an enemy general out to thwart me. I never allowed myself thought we wouldn't make it, or we wouldn't have. She, alone among us, may have been able to make the climb with only a local guide or two, on sheer ability. The rest of us needed all the warnings and plans and strategy, but we still approached it as a challenge we needed to win. After all York put me through, I had to prove to myself that I could rise beyond that time, and beyond all doubt. I see much the same thing in her. The victory, whether leaping into a storm, assaulting a fortress alone, or climbing a mountain, is in challenging herself.

I understand enough of the local language now – and more than enough Spanish – to gain some insight into the conversations she has with Goba and Dorje's grandmother, and the few others of that age that treat Sam and her father as memories instead of old stories. Though I comprehend them, the words make no sense, but I will have to ask after her story soon, that perhaps it will. The more I travel with this crew, the fewer things I am not willing to believe.

That will wait, however. For now, it's time to return to Australia, and prepare to travel for my childhood dream. Japan! I've studied all I could in hopes of being ready for this trip – it's the part of the job for which I'm truly most qualified. I understand now that Giovanni Franzini's aims, as assigned to him, were perhaps not to kill us, but to deprive us of our airship while stealing the secrets of the suit. I would still have made the trip by boat, vulnerable and difficult to control though our situation would have been.

No matter who assigned us this trip, we will go forward with it. It serves our nation, beyond Montague's aims, and I suspect that for anything of this scale, negotiations with the Dutch would have had to have involved a slew of politicians and perhaps the Crown. York may attempt to interfere, but privately, I do not think he will. Even if he does, I no longer fear York.

The nightmares of torture outlasted the physical ills. Doubt and knowledge of treachery cut deeper than his poisoner's blades. I had to see the sun. I had to climb a mountain to get past the doubt.

We climbed a mountain. We saw the sun. The doubt is gone. York can do as he will in his war. Montague can do what he will. We have already won. Now, we prepare for war.

May 4th, 1817

27º58' N 86º54' E

To whom it may concern,

My name is Gregory Conan Watts. I have contributed to your publication previously as a writer and reporter while serving as a messenger and
aide
-
de
-
camp
during the Napoleonic Wars. I do not know if the same fine gentlemen still serve as chief editors there as during my last submission, so I will attempt to address this as generally as possible. I am sending this note to your attention via a Dutch trader and supply ship, so I will hope it reaches you in good condition and time.

Enclosed, you will find copies of my journal entries regarding our group, which left England with no small fanfare a year and a half past, successfully scaling the mountain the locals refer to as Chomolungma. It has not yet rece
ived a designation through the Royal Geographic Survey, and I understand relations with Nepal may further delay that effort. I have included the best maps, information regarding its scale, and other accounts as I am able. Most importantly, I am including the enclosed photographs of our number atop the summit, as well as the pictures of Nepal, Tibet, and many locations along the way.

Further included is evidence regarding Dr. Bowe, the author who claimed to have previously scaled most of the distance up this same mountain, verifying that he was, indeed, there. It is my hope these will serve to vindicate the doctor and cease any more false report that he is a writer of adventurous fiction. Along our entire route, we followed his maps and accounts, to which, along with very skilled native guides and the spirit of my companions, we owe our success.

I hope this finds you in good health and does not too much surprise you.

Yours,

Gregory Conan Watts

May 4th, 1817

27º58' N 86º54' E

My
Dearest Cordelia,

As you doubtless will have heard through the news by the time this account reaches you, we have succeeded in one of the most daunting goals known to man. We have reached the top of the world and survived our return.

As I am writing this, we are resting among the Shar Khombo people. Soon we shall return to Australia for further recuperation after our heroic efforts, while we plan our trip to the closed nation of Japan. To avoid repeating myself unnecessarily, and to dispel, for you, any hyperbole by the paper, I am including copies of my original journal entries for your perusal. I am also including several photographs that were not included in my notice to the paper.

I do have to wonder about some oddities in the trip. Many of the models of tools we found in Bowe's camps were out of date, with maker's marks that should have struck me as most unusual had I been more coherent at the time. When we are all further recovered, and I have the opportunity, I must ask Miss Bowe why her father would have been equipped primarily with tools from that late 1600s and early portion of last century, mixed amongst somewhat more modern equipment.

After that journey, I have further good news to report. Dorje, of the Shar Khombo, has decided to apprentice himself to me in cartography. He wishes to travel with us for a time, to test his skills and hone his craft in Australia's dividing range mountains, and eventually to attempt to map and explore more of the mountains of both his homeland and Europe. He is learning English quickly and has a gift for Spanish, so by the time he leaves our company, he should be able to do well for himself without an interpreter.

However, this is not the most exciting of the news. Upon reaching the Shar Khombo village once more, I finally learned the great secret between Eddy, Sir James and Miss Coltrane. Sir James has agreed, despite the apparent impropriety of it, to allow Eddy to marry his sister. There is some debate over whether the Captain or the local reverend will perform the ceremony, but in any case it shall happen during our time of rest in Australia, before we journey on to the closed nation of Japan.

By the stories I have gotten, while he certainly felt betrayed by the Coltranes, the revelation of who was behind the battle suit dispelled Eddy's notions of
Miss Coltrane as an intelligent but mostly useless decoration, as he crudely puts it. Miss Coltrane, meanwhile, has always found England's gentlemen boring – and particularly found it a chore trying to feign interest in those who presumed themselves more intelligent and capable than she was. She generally preferred the less educated but more rugged individuals among her brother's friends.

While reluctant for a time, Sir James finally agreed to the arrangement, and even now, they are planning perhaps the largest and most elaborate wedding Australia has ever seen. England's most elegant may not find such an arrangement suited to people of the Coltrane's class and refinement, but I am certain that you will join me in simply wishing them well.

Of course, these arrangements also put in my mind our own eventual arrangements.

My love, always,

Gregory Conan Watts

Acknowledgements:

I'd like to thank the following people and groups, who make this whole writing career thing possible. First, my cowriter, Sarah Symonds, and my editor, Katherine Perkins, without whom, I'd never have managed to get beyond "aspiring author." To Will Sweet, our new cover artist. To Jennifer Wolf and Matthew Lewis, who have been my continual support network throughout the process.

To our families: Carol Wells
-Reed, Gerry Cook, Anne Symonds, Carol Wolf, Kelly and Scott Hendrix, and others. To the other people who have helped with the beta reading, voice testing, and general talk about my days at work. To the literal best Sam Bowe cosplayer out there, Kaylin Anderson. To Andrew McDonald, Gavin Downing, Leigh Alghren, Andy Mayor, Matt Rose, and Chris Saldana. Thank you also to the ladies and gentlemen of the FreeValley Publishing writers’ group. I'm looking forward to continuing to work with all of you, and best wishes for all your own work in the coming year.

To the owners and staff of the AFK Elixirs and Eatery. I couldn't imagine a more
helpful and supportive venue and atmosphere. Thank you to Jacobsen's Books & More, Village Books, and all of the other shops willing to give independent press a place on the bookshelves. To Contessa Paxton Timmerman, Ripley Patton, and the other members of NIWA. To Seattle's Hydrophobic Ducks of Nanowrimo, always. To Brian with Valley Auto and the other people and businesses that keep Maple Valley a great place to live and work out of.

Thank you to the fine folks with Writerpunk, I'm looking forward to working more with all of you.
Thanks to Tabitha Davis, Nikki McDonagh, Niamh Shamira, Eric Plume, James Baldwin, DavidForsyth, DeAnn Rossetti, Shiv Ramdas, Faith Johnson, Patrick Lohkamp, Allison Drennan, Esias Glaster, Tina Shelton, and Elizabeth Pifer for being willing to help push and promote others across social media and in person. There is no more effective advertising, or anything a writer appreciates more than the people willing to read and recommend their work.

There's a whole lot of other fol
ks who've helped out and fully deserve more appreciation than I have room for. Thank you all.