Steamborn (23 page)

“How much do they cost?” Jacob asked. “I don’t think I have enough.”

“Go on, you two,” Charles said. “I’ll take care of it if Baddawick doesn’t.”

It didn’t take long for Jacob and Alice to weave their way across the room, slowed only by their tendency to gawk at the machinations of the Wild Horse and the occasional bartender hurrying out to a table. Jacob watched the locomotive steam by overhead one more time as they slid into the nook where the picture man had been standing.

“Where do you think he went?” Jacob asked.

Alice shrugged. “Maybe the restroom?”

“I bet they have an amazing restroom here.” Jacob blinked as he thought about what he’d said and looked up to meet Alice’s eyes.

They both burst into laughter.

“That’s not something I think I’ve ever heard before,” she said, her laughter trailing off. She propped herself up on her toes and leaned over the middle of the picture man’s wooden tripod. “I’ve never seen a camera like that.”

“I know,” Jacob said. He took up a position opposite Alice and pointed toward the wood in the center. “They usually have that bellows-looking thing here, but this one has extra sections.”

“Extra lenses,” someone said from behind them.

Jacob turned around to see the picture man standing behind them, sipping his drink.

The man was about his parents’ age, maybe a little younger. He looked tired, and his suit was wrinkled, but there was a spark Jacob couldn’t quite place, in the wide eyes and narrow smile.

“You kids want a picture?”

“You know,” Alice said, “we aren’t
that
young.”

“Of course not, ma’am.” He was loud, talking over the sudden crescendo in the music before it fell away a bit so they could speak in normal tones again.

Jacob laughed and swatted Alice’s arm. “Ma’am. Now you sound as old as Miss Penny.”

Alice narrowed her eyes and looked back to the picture man. “We’d love one. The table with the old man and the Spider Knights is paying for it.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” the man said. He set his drink down and adjusted his hat. “If I can give you Lowland kids something to smile about, that’s payment enough.” He turned around and opened a chest.

Jacob and Alice glanced at each other.

The man smiled. “Frankly, I figured
you
were from the Lowlands,” he said with a nod toward Alice, “because you’ve actually been nice to me and your friend. Most of the Highborn girls that come in here want to be treated like the Queen of Dauschen.”

“Have you been there?” Alice asked. “To Dauschen?”

“I have indeed, little miss.” He pulled a slim plate of metal out of a larger trunk by the wall. “It’s a beautiful place, don’t get me wrong, but I’d never want to go back.”

“Why?”

“Well, lots of reasons,” the picture man said with a humorless laugh. “You think it’s tough in the Lowlands?”

Jacob nodded. He didn’t think it was tough, he
knew
it was tough. Some kids didn’t even have half of what he had, and sometimes his family would go for an entire day without food.

“It’s not, kid. I mean, sure, it’s not as nice as the Highlands, but it’s not a living Hell either. Parts of Dauschen are so poor, they can’t afford wood for a funeral pyre, much less pay for a burial. They burn their dead in mass pits, they do. Poor kids that starve to death on the streets while the monarchs sit on a gilded throne that could feed them for a century.”

Alice’s face hardened. “That doesn’t sound so different at all.”

The picture man blinked. “Why would you say that?” He paused and frowned. “You have food and shelter in the Highlands. You may have Highborns who don’t think you belong here, but that’s a far cry from Dauschen.

“You think the Highlands are better than them, don’t you?” Alice asked. “That’s … I don’t even know what that is.”

The man frowned and glanced away for a moment. “I only meant to say you don’t have it so bad in the Lowlands. Well, when the wall’s up at least. Be thankful for what you have, a roof over your head, and food in your stomach. There’s always someone who’d give anything to have what you have.”

“People should be thankful for
who
they have,” Alice said. She looked up and smiled at Jacob.

“That they should, little miss. That’s enough talk. I think my drink’s gone to my head. Now, you two line up on that wall, right in front of the camera.”

Jacob stood in front of the painting where an ancient, impossibly tall building towered so high it looked like it went straight up through the ceiling. Alice stood a little ways to his right, studying the founders and the leaders from the Deadlands War immortalized on the old wall.

Up close, Jacob could see the dead across the bottom of the painting. Men that looked like half machine and half flesh, suits of armor so complex they made his head spin, even in a painting.

Something smacked into Jacob’s upper back, drawing his attention away from the painting’s carnage. He turned his head slightly and found a furry gray body with eight eyes staring back at him. The Jumper twitched and hopped up onto his shoulder, where it seemed perfectly happy to stay.

“You want I should get rid of that?” the picture man asked.

Jacob shook his head. “He fits. We like Jumpers.”

Alice smiled when the man frowned. He clearly wasn’t so fond of Jumpers. “I bet he really wouldn’t have liked our Pill-Bugs.” Alice smiled and ran a finger over the spider’s head. It pumped its legs up and down a few times in response. “I guess they’re all gone now.”

Jacob put his arm around Alice and gave her an awkward half hug.

“Okay, you two stay as still as you can. It’s a new camera, and it’s pretty fast, but you’ll need to stay still for a bit.”

Jacob and Alice froze as the picture man ducked behind his camera. The Jumper scampered out onto Jacob’s elbow and stared forward.

Alice laughed. “I think he wants to be in the photo.”

“Looks good! Don’t move!”

A click and a whir sounded when the picture man pushed the large brass button. Jacob almost jumped when the entire side of the camera opened and a panel of lights swelled into a golden glow. He watched the gears shift, and the panel retracted.

“You’re all set,” the picture man said. “You want I should make two copies?”

“We’re done?” Jacob asked. “But that was … that was so fast.”

“It’s a new model. I don’t think it takes quite as good a picture, but it gets the job done. Plus, you kids don’t have to stand there for half the day.” He smiled and slid a cartridge out the bottom of the camera.

“What’s that?” Alice asked.

“It stores the negative. Don’t have to worry about the light ruining it. I’ll be back in a few minutes. You kids can wait at the table.”

“He’s going to develop them now?” Alice asked as Jacob released her shoulder. “We had a family photo last year and it took a week to get it back.”

The Jumper scampered back up Jacob’s arm and curled its legs over his shoulder. “I guess we’ll see.”

Jacob looked back toward Charles and the repairmen. A man stood beside them with a full head of wild white hair. It stood up in every direction imaginable, held in place by the strap of a mad pair of goggles. The man turned his head to the side, and Jacob could see the goggles were like Charles’s. A dozen lenses shot off the leather and metal frames.

“That must be Baddawick,” Alice said.

“Let’s go meet him.” Jacob took Alice’s hand and led her around the tables, past the organist—who’d switched to a slow, dark serenade—and back to their table.

Charles stood up when Jacob and Alice made it back to the table. He motioned for them to slide back into the booth. They did. Charles joined them on the wide bench. The Jumper scampered down Jacob’s arm. He raised his hand up close to the wooden beam behind the booth, and the spider made short work of the distance. It vanished into the shadows above.

“I suppose it’s only a matter of time before the city smith steals your idea,” Baddawick said.

Charles nodded. “Wouldn’t be surprised if someone already drew up some plans for him.”

Baddawick harrumphed and set the nail glove back down. “It’s an excellent design. How many nails can you load in the cartridge?”

“At this size, you can get about thirty in.”

Baddawick nodded. “Well, you should only need about thirty to get one of those temporary panels up.” He nodded again, sending his hair bobbing and weaving above his goggles. “You realize they could use this for homes, too?” Baddawick leaned in. “Now that’s where you could make some real money, my friend.”

Charles laughed and flipped the glove over, exposing the mesh beneath the braces. He glanced at it and then back to Baddawick. “I’d rather take money from the men who don’t need it. I’m working on another model. Picked up the springs yesterday, in fact.”

Baddawick raised an eyebrow. “Always the humanitarian, eh? I remember when you were just a soldier following orders, when we both had a little less white up top.” He paused, and his eyes trailed back to Jacob. “I heard a strange rumor. Some folks say a boy leapt off the city wall and lived. Had huge wings like a Devil Moth.” He threw his arms out to the side and wiggled his fingers.

The old man’s face didn’t wear much of an expression, and Jacob wasn’t sure why. Charles took a deep breath and shook his head slightly. When he spoke he sounded normal, if a bit quiet. “They weren’t quite that large.” Charles turned his head and winked at Jacob.

“Was it one of the old gliders? Like the mercenaries we met in the Deadlands?”

Charles nodded. “A lot more portable than those monsters they used to haul around.” Charles motioned for Baddawick to lean closer. “We added some hinges and spring locks, mounted the controls on a backpack.”

“How heavy?”

“Light enough for Jacob to carry on his own. He climbed the staircase to the top of the wall while he was wearing it.”

Baddawick ran his hand through his hair. “I’d almost forgotten how good you are, Charles. I’d like to see that one day.” He glanced between Charles and Jacob. “Well, well, introduce me, won’t you?”

Charles turned toward Jacob and the others.

“This is Alice,” Charles said as he gestured to her. “She has most of the common sense that Jacob’s missing.”

“You may have guessed that this is Jacob,” Charles said, nodding at Jacob. “I’m training him myself, as a matter of fact.”

“So,” Baddawick said before he started smiling, “Charles teach you how to make square wheels?”

“What?” Jacob said.

“It’s an old joke,” Charles said. He rubbed his forehead and returned Baddawick’s smile with a small laugh. “We did know some gullible people back then.”

“That we did,” Baddawick said. “That we did.”

“You’ve seen the prosthetics some of the kids have been wearing since the Fall?”

“The Fall?” Alice asked. “They already named the attack?”

Baddawick grimaced and nodded. “People like to label things—especially grim things—with a catchy name.” He turned his attention back to Charles. “Yes, I’ve seen them. Simple, but quite useful.”

“Jacob designed them,” Charles said as he squeezed Jacob’s shoulder.

“Really?” Baddawick drew the word out and looked at Jacob with a far more discerning eye. Jacob stared back, feeling defiant, but he wasn’t sure why. “You do have talent, boy. I saw the captain’s son.”

Baddawick began shaking his finger at Jacob.“You know what’s most amazing? The captain’s son didn’t think you crazy. He actually found you quite likable. Wouldn’t shut up about it, actually.” Baddawick mumbled the last words, and Jacob barely caught them over the buzz of the bar and the organ music all around them.

Baddawick leaned into the table, barely speaking loud enough for Charles and Jacob to hear. “The city smith knows the boy invented those?”

“I just put some spare parts together.”

Baddawick fluttered his hand to quiet Jacob. “He knows, yes?”

Charles nodded, a small frown pulling at his lips.

Baddawick leaned in closer, his voice not much above a whisper. “I’ve heard rumors he’s into something bad, and he considers you a threat.” Baddawick eyed the table. “All of you.”

“Are you suggesting we leave?” Charles asked.

Baddawick nodded. “Leave Ancora, lest you want to face the city smith. You know Parliament worships the beetle dung on that man’s boots, Charles. A conflict with him will be the end of you all. Whether the Fall was an attack on Ancora from the outside, or an attack from within, dark times are coming.”

Charles drummed his fingers on the tabletop, a shadow darkening his brow. “You’re not wrong.” He nodded and glanced at Jacob and Alice. “We’ll be ready. I’m not breaking up anyone’s family unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“Prepare them for the worst. It was a pleasure to meet you both, Jacob, Alice.” Baddawick stood up straight and his voice returned to its previous volume, rivaling the melodic runs belting out of the organ’s pipes. “You always were a bastard, Charles. Come by for drinks anytime, I’ll always charge you double.”

Baddawick winked before he walked away, circling booths before stopping to whisper something to the organ player. Jacob followed his path until the old inventor vanished through a doorway.

Jacob looked back at Alice. She’d been watching Baddawick too. He shrugged once Baddawick was gone.

“Well,” she said. “He’s interesting.”

“He’s disarming,” Charles said. “He can be manipulative, but if he’s on your side, you won’t mind a bit.” He looked back to Jacob and Alice. “Let’s get your pictures and get home before your parents decide I’m a bad influence.”

He passed the nail glove across the table to Ambrose. “Take this. Show it off to your supervisor, and then come by my lab. You know Bat, yes?”

“Samuel’s uncle?”

Charles nodded. “Yes, my lab is in the old stables he was using for storage. Come by tomorrow and I’ll get you some cartridges of nails. See about getting the city to pay for enough gloves to section off a block of the Lowlands per day.

Ambrose nodded. “Shouldn’t be difficult.” He pried the cartridge out of the top of the glove, revealing the spiral of nails inside before snapping it back together with a click.