Rebel Mechanics (12 page)

*   *   *

The next afternoon, Olive hung on my arm as we left the dining room after Sunday lunch. “Will you play with me, Miss Newton?” she asked.

Her uncle answered for me. “This is Miss Newton's free day. I'll read you a story.”

I did have plans for the afternoon, but the child looked so heartbroken that I said, “I may take a walk in the park later. Perhaps you can join me.”

She gave me a hug and went off happily with Lord Henry. Once I was alone in my room, I took Lizzie's notebook out of my drawer, got some notepaper and a pen out of my desk, and set about writing an article from my notes on the Mechanics' competition. After seeing how the colonial government wanted to suppress the machines, I felt it was crucial to notify the public about them. When I had something that satisfied me, with many cross-throughs and scribbled inserts in the margins, I made a clean copy, then folded my drafts into the notebook and tucked it back in its hiding place.

Now I needed to get the article to Lizzie. I doubted the mail would be safe or timely enough. I thought I might find her in the park, since we'd met there before. Then I remembered that I'd invited Olive on my walk. She was not an ideal companion for a clandestine meeting. I'd have to find a way to distract her long enough to hand over the article. I folded the pages and put them in the crown of my hat, then put on my hat and gloves. Returning Lizzie's notebook would have to wait for a meeting without an audience.

I found Olive reading one of her picture books to her uncle, who still looked rather pale. He was drowsing, barely conscious of what she read to him. “Olive, would you care to join me in the park?” I asked, hoping that she'd decline the invitation.

Instead, she closed the book and jumped off the sofa. Lord Henry blinked awake, then said, “Be home before dark.”

“Uncle Henry, we won't be out
that
late,” she chided. He smiled before his eyes fluttered closed again.

As I went out with Olive, I wondered how I'd find Lizzie in such a vast space as the park. We wandered the pathways, with Olive chattering nonstop and darting off the path every so often to pick up a leaf or an acorn. Soon, her pockets were full of treasures to take home to her uncle, but I had yet to see any sign of Lizzie. We made a full circuit of the Conservatory Water, stopping to watch small boys sailing their toy boats. I couldn't help but imagine how the Mechanics would propel such boats.

I was beginning to lose hope when I saw Alec on the other side of the pool. My heart leaped but I tried to appear calm as I took Olive's hand and ambled casually around the pool.

As we approached him, he tipped his hat to me and said, “Miss Newton! How delightful to see you again.”

“Mr. Emfinger!” I greeted him. “How are you today?” I indicated Olive. “This is my pupil Olive. Olive, this is my friend Mr. Emfinger.”

Alec bent to shake Olive's hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Olive.”

“Likewise,” Olive said in a perfect imitation of her older sister. She broke the illusion by bursting into giggles. “That's what Flora always says,” she tittered. “She thinks she's a proper lady.”

“Flora is Olive's older sister,” I explained to Alec.

Alec smiled and said, “I thought you sounded like a proper lady. You must be quite grownup.” While Alec bantered with Olive, I desperately tried to think of a way to pass over my article.

Salvation came in the form of a balloon vendor setting up shop nearby and drawing a crowd of children by twisting long, narrow balloons into animal shapes before tying them to magical ribbon tethers that allowed them to float. Olive's eyes went wide when she saw him, and she tugged on my skirt. “Miss Newton, may I? I have my own money.”

I tried to sound reluctant rather than gleeful when I said, “Very well, but just one.”

As soon as she joined the crowd of children, I took off my hat and removed the article, pressing it into Alec's hand. “I wrote this from my notes,” I told him as I resecured my hat. “Can you take it to Lizzie? I still have her notebook, but I couldn't think of a way to carry it without Olive asking questions.”

“Keep it,” he said as he slid the article into his breast pocket. “Perhaps you'll find a chance to use it again. I'm glad you decided to write the article.” His eyes met mine with a hint of the intensity from our previous meeting in the park, and I felt a thrill to know I'd pleased him.

I glanced around to make sure where Olive was, then whispered, “I felt I ought to do
something
. The way the government treats you is such an injustice.”

He continued gazing at me, and the connection was so intense that I almost couldn't bear it, but I also couldn't bear to look away. “You can help by continuing to do what you've done here. If you learn something you think people need to know, write about it. And not just about the Mechanics. You see more of the magister world than any of us. You could write about that.”

I gasped and took an unconscious step away from him, breaking the eye contact. “I can't do that! I'm no rebel.”

He moved closer to me. “It's not against the law to write for the newspaper. It's the publisher who's in danger. It would mean so much to us, though. You're the only one who can do this. No one else we know has the access you do. You could even meet the governor himself.”

“Actually, I'm going to a party at his home Wednesday evening.” I said it without thinking, then instantly regretted it. I should have been more circumspect, but I supposed I'd wanted to impress him.

He took my arm, gripping it tightly in his eagerness. “That's exactly what we need. You could describe the way he lives while so many live in poverty, unable to afford magical devices but with no alternatives available.”

Olive saved me from having to answer by skipping over with a pink balloon poodle bobbing over her head. “See what I have, Miss Newton? I'm going to call her Guinevere. What do you think, Mr. Emfinger?”

Alec released my arm and stepped back. “I think that's a lovely name, Olive. And now I must be going. It was so good to see you again, Miss Newton, and a pleasure to meet you, Olive.”

I barely heard Olive's chatter on our way back to the house, I was so torn inside my mind. I did believe there was injustice, and I wanted to please Alec, but I doubted that my reporting on the governor's home would do much for the cause. It would more likely jeopardize my position, which I couldn't risk losing. Why did he have to ask such an impossible thing of me?

*   *   *

Monday morning's newspaper contained a story about how the Masked Bandits had nearly been caught in an attempted burglary at the tax agent's office on Saturday night. Guards had been waiting for them and the bandits had fled with no money, but the guards believed that at least one of them had been injured in the fight. I wondered for a moment if that could possibly have had something to do with Lord Henry's wound, but as I studied him across the breakfast table from over the top of the newspaper, I still couldn't bring myself to believe the eccentric and absentminded amateur scientist capable of committing such daring crimes.

As Olive and I walked our usual route back home from Rollo's school that morning, Olive said, “Look, Miss Newton, there's your friend!”

Nat stood on a street corner only a couple of blocks away from his previous position with a stack of papers. He waved to us. “Hey, Olive and Verity!” he called out. “Verity, you'll want a copy of today's issue. There's an important story.”

Curious, I handed him a coin and took a paper. Olive stood on her tiptoes to look at the front page. “Those words are big,” she complained. “What does it say?”

“‘Mechanics' Exposition,'” I read. “It means that people were showing off machines they built.”

“Rollo would like that.”

“I'm sure he would.” The author's name was “Liberty Jones,” but it was the article I'd written. I'd never seen my own words in print like that before, and I couldn't hold back a smile.

Nat winked and said, “That article's selling a lot of papers for me today. Liberty Jones must be a great writer.”

“It's likely the subject matter,” I said, struggling for modesty. “Thank you for the newspaper, Nat. Come along, Olive.”

The thrill of having my article published didn't change my mind about using my position to report on the magisters. I did waver somewhat, though, when the afternoon post brought a letter from Lizzie, with a banknote in payment for my article enclosed. I supposed that made me a professional journalist.

And, quite possibly in the government's eyes, a rebel.

 

IN WHICH I OVERHEAR VALUABLE INFORMATION

I was correcting one of Olive's papers late Tuesday afternoon when a surge struck me and I remembered that Lord Henry was teaching magic again. I groaned as I fought to get my breathing under control. I needed to be able to manage my reactions to magic, and that was even more important now that I was going to the governor's house, whether as a journalist or as a chaperone.

Then it occurred to me that while so much magic was in use during the lessons, they might not notice a little more. This was my opportunity to learn how to shield myself. I headed straight for the library, where I hoped to find a basic treatise on the subject.

It wasn't easy to concentrate with waves of magic making me reel. Every so often, I had to lean my forehead against the bookcase and take deep, steadying breaths. At last, I found what appeared to be the right book. I carried it to a table and hid it behind a history book.

I quickly skimmed the text. What I knew of magic, I'd learned by instinct or imitated from novels, so this was the first authoritative information I'd read. It seemed that the ability to use magic was a talent for channeling and directing power from the ether. “Spells” were merely step-by-step procedures for doing this, and once someone had internalized the process, it was no longer necessary to consciously follow each step. I was rather pleased with myself for having learned this on my own. Hand gestures and contact were helpful for directing power in certain circumstances. Gestures were also among the tools used to help students learn to channel power, and they became a habit even for magisters who no longer needed them.

Finally, I found a chapter that pertained to my predicament. According to the author, magisters were affected when others excited the ether nearby, but the excited ether could be deflected to diminish these effects. Following the instructions, I visualized a bubble around myself, the magically excited ether flowing around it. But then a wave of magic more powerful than ever nearly knocked me out of my seat. Gathering my wits, I made another attempt. This time, the tingle eased. I was still aware of the presence of magic, but it didn't distress me so badly. I allowed myself a smile of triumph, and then another wave hit me as my concentration faltered.

“Oh, this will never do,” I said, sighing. A shield was of little use if it took constant effort to maintain it. However, after another half hour of practice, I was able to deflect the excited ether and maintain the shield without intense concentration. To test myself, I tried reading further in the book while continuing to deflect the magic. I knew I was successful when I became so engrossed that I forgot entirely about the shield, and yet I wasn't overwhelmed by any surges of power. I didn't think it would be long before maintaining the shield became second nature to me.

The library door opened and I jumped guiltily, unable to stifle a startled squeak. My reaction wasn't nearly so severe as the cry that came from the intruder. I thought Mrs. Talbot might fall from shock as she froze in the doorway. Then she laughed nervously. “Why, Miss Newton, you startled me,” she said. “I didn't expect to find anyone here.”

Glad I'd hidden the magic book, I said, “I'm looking for discussion topics for the children.”

“My, but you are diligent,” she said, her voice sounding steadier. “I came to find some light reading, but I don't want to disturb your work.” Before I could protest—which I was not planning to do—she backed away and closed the door.

I let out my breath in a huge sigh of relief, then reshelved the books. It was only as I entered my room that I realized I hadn't dropped my shield during that scare with Mrs. Talbot. I could face a magical dinner party.

*   *   *

I remained determined to play no role other than chaperone when Rollo, Flora, and I boarded the family's carriage to go to the governor's home Wednesday night. It was my first ride in a magical carriage, and despite my appreciation of Alec's steam engine, I had to admit that I far preferred the magical ride, which was much quieter and smoother. Rollo obliged me with a complete recitation of the carriage's specifications, none of which I understood.

The governor's estate stood on a hill overlooking the Hudson River at the northern tip of the island. I wasn't sure how I would be received as a chaperone or what I would be expected to do. Once the children were in their grandfather's home, I presumed they would be considered safe. However, the butler informed me as he ushered us inside that my services would be required for the social portion of the evening, as His Excellency had invited a variety of people to this affair. I took that to mean that there would be nonmagisters present, and the governor couldn't be expected to monitor the children while attending to his guests. I didn't think either Flora or Rollo was in any great danger of an improper liaison. Flora would sneer at any man she considered beneath her, and Rollo was far more interested in machines than in girls.

I followed my charges into the drawing room, where the guests mingled before dinner. A tall, husky man with graying muttonchop sideburns stood in the middle of the room, and it was he to whom the children went, so I presumed he was Samuel DeLancey, Duke of New York, and royal governor of the American colonies. He kissed Flora's cheek and ruffled Rollo's hair in a fond, if somewhat halfhearted, greeting.