Bitter Cold: A Steampunk Snow Queen (The Clockwork Republic Series Book 4) (4 page)

"Have we met?" She picked up the wrench and resolved to keep a good solid grip on it. Hadn't Kit just reminded her last week not to be too trusting of strangers?

"Briefly. I believe we may have spoken at Thompson's Herbalist Market. You're an alchemist, aren't you? You were there to pick up some ingredients." He smiled pleasantly, as if they were discussing the weather at a tea party.

"That's right! I remember you. You seemed very interested in the items in my basket." She frowned at him suspiciously, trying to remember what formulae she'd been working on that particular occasion. Was it the one she'd concocted to give constables the tracking abilities of bloodhounds? He must not be from this part of town. Most of her neighbors hurried the other direction when they saw her carrying parcels, as opposed to approaching for a closer look.

"You don't see a young lady carrying those particular ingredients very often. I'm sorry -- I've interrupted you in the middle of some important repairs, obviously. I only noticed the. . . ." He waved a hand in the direction of the spouting water.

"Catastrophe? Disaster?"

"I was going to say 'water.' Or possibly 'accident.' I realize this is the second time I've been so forward as to speak without a proper introduction in as many weeks. But I can assure you, I only want to help. You seemed to be having some trouble with that valve."

Greta frowned. "I'm terribly sorry. Yes, please, I'd be most grateful if you could lend a hand. I would love to tell you I'm not usually this rude, but unfortunately, the truth is I'm rarely this polite. I was hoping a friend of mine might return and help, but it seems he's busy elsewhere at the moment." She frowned at the alley, but there was no sign of Kit, so she reluctantly handed the young man the wrench.

He sidled around the spray, and managed to close off the valve in less than a minute, without even getting his lovely black suit damp.

"Well, you're quite a competent fellow, aren't you? What did you say your name was again?"

"Simms. Cornelius Simms. However, my friends call me Neal. And you are?"

"Greta Jane Singleton." She stuck out her hand; since he was still holding the wrench, he had to shift it awkwardly to his other hand to shake hers.

"Well, Greta, it seems as if your formulae didn't work out quite as you'd planned?"

She couldn't help but laugh. "No, it actually worked far better than I could have ever anticipated. I just wasn't prepared for the unmitigated success of that particular experiment."

He gave her a puzzled look. "What were you attempting, when success left a rather obvious hole in your property and what appears to be a missing outbuilding?" He gestured at the soaked and empty shed foundation.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

She caught the ghost of a frown passing his face. "Nothing improper, I hope?"

The Alchemists Guild had strict regulations. Greta's parents hadn't even let her take the examination to be registered as an apothecary, much less a full alchemist. There were many formulae she couldn't legally attempt. Of course, this young man didn't know she wasn't registered.

"Oh, no. Nothing prohibited by the Guild. I had an idea to create a formulae which could . . . well . . . achieve an unprecedented, but completely legal effect."

Experiments attempting to create entirely new formulae were something of a loophole in the Guild's restrictions. Aside from formulae intended to create or harm living things, if no one had successfully created a particular formulae or effect, anyone was welcome to try it, presuming they didn't use outlawed substances. Of course, any unintended injury, death or property damage was subject to the same laws as any other activity.

Mr. Simms looked at the empty space where the lab had once been, and raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question.

She sighed. It's wasn't as if it hadn't happened in full view of the nosy neighbors. If he was really that curious, he could ask and would certainly hear the story from any number of witnesses. Most likely with some colorful embellishments.

"I was trying to create an atmospheric buoyancy formulae. I got distracted at a critical moment."

Simms eyes grew wide in surprise.

"Then you mean . . . the outbuilding? The whole thing?"

"Sprang skyward and flew away like an untethered airship." She nodded solemnly and waved in the direction it had disappeared.

The young man's jaw dropped in amazement. For a moment, she found herself reconsidering the wisdom of her candor. The vague but appalling rumors about how the Guild responded to renegades ensured her discretion most of the time. While she had done nothing technically forbidden, she had no desire to tempt fate. Since the incident with the clockwork dragon, she'd followed the letter of the law, if not the spirit.

She'd managed to obtain some very rare ingredients, but she scrupulously avoided the illegal ones. But the neighbors didn't care. They still regarded her as a public nuisance. Their poor opinion of her didn't stop them from tapping on her door when they needed a healing salve or prevent a few from hinting if she ever just happened to stumble upon a love potion, they'd take the illegal concoction off her hands.

Now a total stranger knew she'd skirted the very edges of the law. She worried the young man would feel obliged to contact the authorities. Her father's property had been damaged and Kit had been injured, even though he'd never report it.

"Mr. Simms, I can assure you, my experiments rarely turn out this badly. And none of my materials were prohibited for use by someone of my status." She didn't specifically say her status was unregistered, hoping he would assume she meant she was a licensed journeyman alchemist, or at least an apothecary.

Simms nodded amiably at her, seeming unconcerned about the propriety of her experiment after he'd gotten over the sheer novelty of it.

"Well, I'm sorry it didn't work out as you'd hoped, Miss Singleton. Or perhaps congratulations on your unprecedented success?" He chuckled a bit and she couldn't help but laugh as well. "Actually, I must apologize once again. You see, it was no accident that I happened upon you, at Thompson's or today. I was sent here by the Alchemists Guild to see if you might be a good candidate for membership."

Greta's eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets. The Alchemists Guild had noticed her? She wasn't sure whether to be delighted or terrified.

"You're an alchemist? With the Guild?" Her voice squeaked a little as she tried to gather her wits.

"No, not precisely. I work with the Boyle Society. We're . . . well, consider us something of an adjunct to the Alchemists Guild. It's very difficult to get actual alchemists to leave their laboratories, so we handle some of the more strenuous activities for them."

Greta laughed nervously. The bit about getting alchemists out of the lab was undoubtedly true. But the nature of the "strenuous" activity the Boyle Society engaged in was a cause for some concern.

"So, you've been sent here to report on me? What are you going to tell them, if I may ask?" She brushed her suddenly sweaty hands on her pinafore.

"Considering the unprecedented success of your atmospheric buoyancy formulae, I think it would be best for everyone if you continued your studies under the supervision of the Guild." He broke into a wide grin, setting her at ease.

"Then you're not reporting me as a renegade?" The relief in her voice was palpable.

"Of course not, Miss Singleton. Anyone who spent more than a few minutes around you could tell there's nothing maleficent about you. Not to mention, your gift for subterfuge and subtlety, two key ingredients in any villain, seems. . . ." He looked up at the ruins of the laboratory, "Decidedly lacking."

He pulled a pocket watch out and frowned at her. "I'm afraid I must be going. Will your friend be along soon to help?"

"I'm sure he will. Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Simms."

"In that case, I'd ask you to take my card. I need to file a report with the Guild, before we can move forward. If you have any concerns in the meantime, you can wire me."

As the young man sauntered off down the alley towards the next street, she began to wonder where Kit could be. At some point, she would need to apologize for how she'd behaved and let him tell her his news. Now at least, she had a little good news of her own to share.

If the Alchemists Guild recruited her directly, surely her parents would see reason and allow her to continue studying. It couldn't completely take the sting out of the idea of Kit leaving, but it at least made it a little easier for her to put a good face on it. She was determined to try to be happy for him. Perhaps the situation wasn't as dire as she'd thought, and he would be able to visit her often.

Whatever opportunity he'd been offered, he deserved it. He'd been working so hard at his devices for years. He deserved all the recognition the world could offer. Sometimes, it just didn't seem fair. She'd worked as hard as he had, and exhibited just as much talent in her chosen field, but up until today, any recognition she'd achieved had been more like infamy.

She leaned down and plucked a shiny bit of metal, half buried in debris. It was the little clockwork canary. It must have been blown out the window. The delicate machinery which gave it song was probably destroyed, but the brass bird was still a beautiful piece of work.

Why did Kit's efforts turn out so beautifully, while hers resulted in property damage and outraged bystanders? She blamed the nature of their different passions, which matched their temperaments. Mechanical work suited his precise, methodical nature. It was predictable, a simple matter of cause and effect, even if he did often surprise her with what he could coax out of cogs, gears, engines and springs. Kit's devices might fail to work, or run out of control, but he always included a failsafe.

There was no failsafe in alchemy. Alchemy aimed to create powerful reactions beyond all calculation. It involved transforming elemental substances into new materials with amazing, unexpected properties. Of course, their friendship mirrored the Great Partnership, which had resulted in combining machinery with alchemy to create the modern conveniences society enjoyed.

Over a century ago, alchemists ceased chasing the philosopher's stone, a material that supposedly could turn base metal to gold and grant eternal life and youth. Instead, they applied their prodigious minds to more practical possibilities. Working alongside the great engineering minds of the Age of Reason, they had created alchemically-treated coal which could power an agricultural automaton for weeks. The invention of 'gens had ended slavery in the Republics just as they'd won freedom from the European monarchies. The Great Partnership made many of the current technological marvels possible.

Like the Great Partnership, she and Kit worked on several projects together, combining their abilities to create devices neither could have managed alone. Some of her favorite memories were of the two of them working alongside each other.

Still, there were strict limits to mixing alchemy and machinery, and with good reason. Greta had heard horror stories of renegade alchemists trying to create artificial life with homunculi or, worse, by reanimating dead creatures. She recoiled at the idea of someone trying to build a creature who could think, but couldn't feel; who couldn't die, but wasn't really alive.

But renegade deviants were the exception. Most alchemists were like Greta, interested in exploring new and wonderful possibilities for mankind. Greta loved alchemy for the same reason Kit loved tinkering: it matched her spontaneous, unpredictable nature. At moments like this, she felt just a bit more predictability might have been desirable.

At least most of the debris had joined the laboratory. After she swept up the broken glass, she only had to contend with the fallen door. She should probably move it out of the alley. Peddlers' carts chugged and rattled through the alley all the time, selling wares to housekeepers who found it convenient to step out the back door for a few trinkets, some soap and a bit of gossip.

She lifted the door, shoving it into the depression formed by the laboratory's foundation. Looking down for more glass, she spotted a small wooden box pressed into the soft earth where the door had been.

Kit must have dropped it.

She dug it up, dusting off the dirt. Polished cedar, it looked like something Kit might have made. He preferred metal, but was also skilled at woodworking.

Greta considered it for a moment, consumed with curiosity. She and Kit did not keep secrets from one another. She should just make sure her explosion hadn't damaged or destroyed whatever he'd put in it.

Kit had lined it with red velvet, her favorite color. A gorgeous clockwork ring sat undamaged inside. She found it breathtakingly beautiful, his best work yet. The roses reminded her of their first meeting, and the time they'd spent tending the garden. She held it up to the light. The engraving inside read "G - Yours for eternity. - K."

Greta dropped the ring and box in shock.

She fell to her knees, scrambling to find them. As she put the ring back in the box, the pieces clicked into place.

Kit wasn't leaving. He hadn't come to say goodbye. The disheveled hair, his nervousness, the glasses tucked into his pocket, the talk of being grown up, all made sense now. Kit wanted to marry her.

Kit wanted to marry
her
? What on earth was he thinking? She'd nearly killed both of them. If Kit wanted a wife, he'd picked an awful prospect.