Steamborn (2 page)

The old observatory sat on the largest hill in the Lowlands. It stretched high into the air, a huge cone that came to a fine point. Jacob smiled as the wind picked up and sent the long grass around the observatory swaying. The door was closed, but he could see the yellow glow of the old man’s lanterns through the small windows.

Jacob reached out for the etched steel handle on the old wooden door. It didn’t so much as rattle in its frame. Charles had it locked, which probably meant the tinker was doing something interesting.

Jacob turned to the left and walked away from the door. The first sounds of the spring crickets could be heard. They were quiet small creatures that time of year, but soon they’d be a nuisance, wailing louder than the neighborhood cats.

He followed the curve of the giant metal plates at the base of the observatory until he found what he was looking for. A gap he’d covered with a small wedge of wood waited, just wide enough for him to slip through undetected. The metal pulled at his jacket as he wiggled past. The small crawlspace led him to the back of one of the many shelves the old man had filled with treasures and parts and junk. Complex knots of rope supported the scaffolding above him.

A small Jumper stared at him for a moment and then scampered up the wood to a higher part of the tower. A low whine replaced the chirp of the crickets. Jacob shifted a box of metal fasteners, as quietly as possible, so he could see the old man’s workbench.

Charles looked up, lifting his spectacles and resting them on his graying head. Rhythmic puffs of steam from a small, dirty engine joined the low whine. The candles cast a flickering orange glow around the room, and it was only then that Jacob realized Charles had extinguished the lanterns.

Jacob’s eyes followed Charles’s gaze and he almost shouted. Jacob noticed the dancing reflections on the glass globe only in passing. It was the rising glow within the glass that kept him riveted. The timbre of the whine grew higher. Charles adjusted the knob on a small valve, and the tiny black ball beside the globe spun faster and faster, the glow growing brighter and brighter until the candles seemed dim.

Charles laughed and clapped his hands together. Even when the spinning mechanism seized and cracked and the glow died, the old man didn’t stop smiling. He released the valve with a gloved hand, and the steam engine slowed immediately.

Jacob gasped as the candles once more became the only light source in the room.

“I know you're there, son,” Charles said. “Come on out.”

Jacob sighed. He knew better than to make noise. That was almost always how Charles caught him poking around. Jacob set his back against one of the scaffolding supports and pushed a wooden crate full of piping forward about six inches. The grating, squealing crate left just enough room for him to squeeze through. He crawled out from beneath the chaos and ran a hand through his dingy light brown hair.

“You have a Jumper on your shoulder.”

Jacob frowned and glanced at his shoulder. He couldn’t be sure it was the same spider— there were a lot of three-inch Jumpers in the old observatory—but he liked to think it was. It rotated its furry body back and forth, looking at the young man with all eight of its eyes. He held out his hand and the Jumper skittered onto his palm. He studied it for a moment longer before raising his arm and letting the spider hurl itself up into the scaffolding.

“Jumpers aren’t pets.”

“They’re not poisonous,” Jacob said, unable to keep the exasperation from his voice. If he was smart enough to know they weren’t poisonous, the old man certainly was too.

“A knife isn’t poisonous either, but it will cut you just the same. I don’t want to explain it to your mother.”

“Uh huh,” Jacob said, only half listening at that point. His eyes were all for the cracked glass globe, which had lit the room like a small sun before it had broken. Well, maybe not quite as bright as a sun, but it
had
been bright. “What was that?”

Charles bent his head down to look at Jacob over the rim of his glasses. He pushed the glasses farther up his nose and said, “It was called a lightbulb a long time ago. Before the war.”

“Which war?” Jacob asked, half curious and half wanting to annoy Charles because the old man only ever talked about one war.

Charles sighed and turned his attention back to a binder full of yellowed papers. “It’s the same principle as the lights in City Square, but on a much smaller scale. They used to be in every home, Jacob. Can you imagine that? No lanterns, no candles, just light whenever you needed it.” Charles lifted the glasses from his nose. They weren’t really glasses, but even after three years of apprenticeship, Jacob couldn’t remember the name for them. There were extra lenses attached to a brass frame. The old man used them to look at little things.

Jacob smiled and fished around in his pocket, eventually pulling out three small black orbs. He set them in a green bowl on the workbench. “I got these at Festival. Will they work for the new pistons?”

Charles picked up one of the balls and looked at Jacob over the rim of his glasses. Charles sighed and ran his hand over his wide white beard. “Yes, but how did you get these? This looks like the work of the city smith, and if I can’t afford his goods, I’m quite sure you can’t either.”

“I found them.”

The old man’s lips tightened and he frowned. “You’re going to have to return them, Jacob.”

Jacob’s jaw opened slightly as he scrambled to think of a better alternative. “I can’t.”

“And why is that?”

“Alice would … Alice would never let me forget,” Jacob said in a very small voice.

Charles laughed and flipped the ball up into the air. It thumped against the workbench and bounced nearly as high as where it had started. Charles caught it and eyed the dark piece of rubber. “I wouldn’t want to miss seeing you at the dance with Alice either.”

Jacob blew out a breath and glared at Charles.

“I’ll pay the city smith for these,” he said. “You just worry about getting those steps down.”

“I hate dancing,” Jacob grumbled.

 “I appreciate the thought, Jacob,” Charles said as he gestured at the rubber orbs. “I believe you have Cotillion tonight, yes? You better run along. Miss Penny won’t be happy if you miss another rehearsal.”

Jacob groaned. “I forgot about Cotillion. What am I possibly going to do there that’s better than getting the new boiler up and running?”

“You’ll be out and living,” Charles said. “You need to do that while you’re young if you want to be a proper hermit when you get to be an old man. Be sure to tell Miss Penny hello for me.”

Jacob turned away from Charles and grumbled.”

Charles smiled and pointed to the door. “I do enjoy your company, but I don’t enjoy Miss Penny’s stern talking-tos. Now get yourself down to the Hall.”

Jacob looked at the windows. It was getting dark. It was time for Cotillion, and Miss Penny was going to tear him up one side and down the other.

Charles laughed and quickly shooed Jacob with his hand. “Run along. You won’t be much of an assistant if Miss Penny throws you off a cliff.”

Jacob hesitated and thought about arguing, but when the logical side of his brain decided the old tinker was probably right, he nodded repeatedly and ran through the door.

Jacob passed the lantern men as he ran back through the Lowlands. They’d already lit most of the street between the observatory and the Hall. Yellowish-orange light revealed the worst of the holes in the sidewalk, and he only stumbled twice in the darker parts of town.

The Hall was in the middle of the Lowlands, as any proper Hall should be. Jacob glanced up at the enormous cut stones that piled one atop the other until they met in a sharp peak to form the roof. The Hall was the nicest stone building in the Lowlands, filled with stained-glass windows and ornate carvings. It was once the center of the entire city.

The old man had said that had been almost a century ago, before the invaders came through the walls. Then, the Highborns wanted to build higher, too high for the bugs to climb. Jacob didn’t think any place was too high for the bugs to climb, but the wall around the Highlands could keep out just about anything.

Jacob leaned back to pull open the old oak door and made his way into the Hall.

He looked up at the ceiling, as he always did. How could anyone not marvel at that height? A cough brought his attention back to the crowd of people in the center of the Hall. There were a few bored-looking parents on carved wooden chairs on either side of the room. The other kids were lined up on the sides of the floor, boys on the left, girls on the right.

Alice glared at him.

Miss Penny cleared her throat, and Jacob smiled sheepishly as he made his way over to the boys’ side.

“Now,” Miss Penny said, “if there won’t be any more interruptions?”

Some of the girls laughed and pointed at Jacob. The boys looked jealous of his late arrival. There were only one or two boys in the entire village that enjoyed Cotillion. Frankly, Jacob thought they were crazy.

“Good,” Miss Penny said, lifting the hem of her skirt slightly and moving her feet in a three-count rhythm.

It could only mean the waltz. Jacob wasn’t too fond of the dance, as he always felt bad for stepping on Alice’s toes.

“Girls, request a dance of your partner. Use proper language.” Miss Penny turned away and started talking to two seated women.

“I’m ready for the toe crusher,” Alice said.

Jacob turned to her and narrowed his eyes. “That’s not funny. I can sit this one out if you’d prefer.”

“Hey, they’re not your toes,” she said, completely disregarding his second comment. “I can make jokes about my crushed toes if I want to.” She had a point, but he’d never tell her that.

Jacob glanced back at the seated women, and his dread of dancing died off. Miss Penny had brought in two actual musicians for rehearsal. It made all the toe crushing jokes worth it, just to hear them play.

One of them held a guitar, and the other had an instrument Jacob had never seen before.

“What is that?” he asked as Alice took his hand.

She put her arms out and began to flow toward the musicians. “It’s a cello,” Alice said. He’d heard of them, but he couldn’t recall ever seeing one played. The strings came to life in the woman’s hands. A bow made of hair moved gracefully across the instrument, filling the Hall with a layered sound that brought everything else to silence.

Alice spun on the third beat, and Jacob moved his hand to the small of her back. Miss Penny had drilled the waltz pattern into their heads for almost two months now. Not surprising, since their big performance at Festival was coming up soon, after all.

Jacob took two small steps and swooped forward with Alice for a big step as they slowly turned with the rest of the dance floor. He kept his eyes on the musicians when he could—that is, when Alice’s hair didn’t get in the way. The guitar was subtle, letting the cello breathe without struggling.

Alice giggled as Jacob spun her around again. He even found himself smiling at Alice while her skirt twirled and the music slowly died away. All the kids applauded. It wasn’t often they received a treat like live music. It was usually the old hand-cranked music box with the big discs that weighed as much as he did.

“Didn’t step on my toes once,” Alice said.

Jacob looked down at her feet, and then met her bright green eyes. “Not once?”

“Nope. Apparently we just need music for you not to be a complete klutz.”

The musicians bowed and began packing away their instruments.

Miss Penny clapped her hands together and beamed at the room. “Not perfect. A little sloppy in the form, yes, but good job, all of you. Now, if you can do that at Festival tomorrow, I won’t need to throw any of you off the cliff.”

Jacob blinked and stared at Miss Penny. Sometimes she could be a little crazy. Miss Penny crooked her finger at him and he walked toward her, shoulders slumped. He wasn’t sure why Alice followed him over.

“Are you hurt?” Miss Penny asked.

Jacob furrowed his brow and looked up at her.

“From earlier? You scared me when you slid down that pole.”

“I … I thought you were mad.”

Miss Penny shook her head. “No, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Yeah,” Alice said, “then I wouldn’t have anyone to dance with.”

Miss Penny laughed and nodded at Alice. “Are your hands okay? It’s a long way down those poles.”

Jacob fished around in his larger pockets that ran from his thigh to his knee. He pulled out the gloves Charles had given him. The little metal scales woven into the palms and fingers clinked as he turned them over to show Miss Penny.

“Oh my,” she said. “I see.” She brushed one of the coppery scales with her fingers.

Jacob placed his gloves in his pockets once more when it became obvious Miss Penny wasn’t going to do anything else with them.

“Be careful, Jacob. I don’t want to have to tell your mother something terrible has happened to you.”

“I’ll have my white shoes on tomorrow,” Alice said, “so try not to step on them. Or something terrible
will
happen to you.”

Miss Penny smiled at Alice.

“Well,” Jacob said, “we’ll have real musicians there too, so maybe I won’t.”

Alice pushed his shoulder and he swayed backwards. She smiled as she picked up a small wool satchel and left the Hall.

“Bye, Miss Penny,” Jacob said as he ran after Alice.

“Did you see the bugs that broke through the wall?” Jacob asked.

“Yes,” Alice said, her voice trailing off. “One of them was a Walker, but they said it tried to attack everything it got close to. Walkers don’t do that. They’re not hostile.”

“Watch out,” Jacob said. He pointed to a hole in the sidewalk. One of the cobblestones had gone missing.

Alice stepped around it, and they continued through the yellow warmth of the streetlights. Jacob always walked Alice home from Cotillion. She didn’t like to be alone on the streets at night. It’s not that they weren’t safe, but sometimes things did come over the walls.