Steamborn (4 page)

Jacob turned the handle on the observatory door, expecting it to swing inward, but instead he smacked his face on the window and cursed. He hunched his shoulders and looked around. Thankfully no one had heard him, because his mother would
not
have been happy.

He heard a slide and a click. Jacob tried the door again. This time it opened as expected. Charles settled himself back at his bench. “Sorry about that. I’ve been working on the new boiler and a new hammer, of sorts.”

Charles leaned in and peered at something on his workbench. He raised his arm, leaned back a bit, and punched it. When his fist connected, it made a terrible sound, like a small boiler failing and metal rending. Jacob ran over to Charles and then he saw the gauntlet.

“What
is
that?” Jacob asked as he stared at the brass contraption lining Charles’s hand. A webbed glove fit over his fingers and a wide metal box sat across his knuckles.

“It’s a nail punch,” Charles said, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. “Not sure I like the name yet, but it fits.”

“Is it steam powered?” Jacob asked. “I don’t see a boiler.”

Charles shook his head. “It’s all springs and levers. I’m working on a bigger one—one you can use on metal sheets—that will be steam powered. Well, I thought it would be, but it may not need it.”

Jacob was silent for a moment.

“I hear you had a little run-in last night.”

“What?”

“I heard you helped get someone’s bug back,” Charles said as he tightened the screws on the edge of the nail punch and flexed his hand.

“Right, her,” Jacob said. “It was Alice, really.”

“Not just Alice,” Charles said. “Rumor is you frightened that Piers boy something fierce.”

“I wish I could beat him up. I should have beaten him up.”

“Bah,” Charles said. “You did what needed to be done, as did Alice. There’s no need to be cruel.”

“Cruel?” Jacob asked. “What he did was wrong.”

“I’m not arguing that, Jacob, but you don’t fix what’s wrong by doing something wrong.” Charles closed a jar full of screws and set it on the workbench. “Cruelty is an earmark of murderers and politicians. I have no use for cruelty. Now, hand me that wrench.”

Bradley was the cruel one, pushing kids around and stealing from them and threatening families with his own family’s influence. Jacob stole too, but he’d never steal from other kids, so it was different. He’d never steal from a family he knew to be poorer than his own, so it was better, wasn’t it? The front door to the observatory opened, distracting Jacob from the old man’s request.

“Charles!” said a short man with sparse black hair. He had a deep tan, and Jacob figured it was from working outside. “Is it done?”

“Just wrapped it up, Ambrose,” Charles said with a smile. “Should feed the belts through without an issue now.”

“Best thing you ever invented, tinker. If you ask me, at least.”

Charles smiled and eyed the man over the golden rim of his glasses.

“What’s the fee? I know you said it could be more if you had to replace parts.”

Charles shook his head. “Have your wife bake me one of those amazing cobblers. We’ll call it even.”

Ambrose smiled. “You let us know if you ever get the punch made for metal plating. The city will buy fifty of them, and I’m not exaggerating.”

Charles shook the man’s hand. Jacob and the old man were alone again after that.

“Charles, I want to see the city.”

“You’ve been there before,” the old man said as he spun the tool in his hand around in circles. Every quarter turn, it clicked.

“That’s what Mom said, but I don’t remember.” He watched Charles some more until he could figure out what the tool was. “Is that a small ratchet?”

“It is indeed, a gift from one of the wall repairmen.” Charles glanced up at Jacob over his half-moon spectacles. “At least, that’s what he tells everyone.” Charles grinned. “He lost it in a bad game of poker. So tell me, why do you want to see the city?”

“They have puffing demons!” Jacob said, and he couldn’t contain his excitement. “Can you believe it?”

The old man laughed without humor as he inspected the bolts he’d been working on. He nodded and began wiping the grease off his hands. “I designed the engines, boy. Of course I believe it.”

“You did?” Jacob asked. He couldn’t keep the small edge of skepticism out of his voice. Sometimes the old man liked to tell stories.

“They work on the same principles as the steambike, just on a larger scale.” Charles gestured to the tarp covering the bike in the corner.

“Okay, but that doesn’t work.”

Charles smiled at Jacob. “It will. Just wait.”

“You’ve been working on it forever.”

“I’ve been working on it a couple months,” Charles said as he picked up his other glasses. He leaned in close to the small disc he was working on and flipped a couple different lenses down in front of his right eye.

“Like I said, forever.”

Charles smiled and swapped his glasses out again. He started bolting the disc onto some sort of metal construction.

“What is
that?”
Jacob asked. He stepped up closer to Charles before leaning down to look at the long metal brace. A brass gauntlet adorned the end, connected to three curved bars of metal. A series of interlocking gears joined the first set of bars to a second set of bars, and as Jacob picked up the contraption, he realized it was all connected to a backpack. “Is this a suit? Like they wear in the Deadlands?”

Charles wiped his hands off on an oily rag before he took the gauntlet, and everything attached to it, out of Jacob’s hands. He set it gently back on the far corner of the workbench and patted the disc he’d attached over the gears.

“You mean Biomechs?” Charles asked as he frowned slightly and shook his head. “This is ideal. It’s not an implant. It's a lightweight exoskeleton.”

“Like a bug?” Jacob asked, moving the fingers of the gauntlet back and forth.

“Somewhat, yes. This is mainly to help men lift things. The mines are dangerous work, and this will at least help them keep up their stamina.”

Jacob stared at the piston-like gears and shifted the arm back and forth. “You could put an engine on this.”

“Jacob …” Charles said. When Jacob looked up, Charles was wearing a small, patient frown.

“It’s the perfect size,” Jacob said. “You already have the piston built in, right here.” He pointed to the bars joining the two halves of the arm. One bar on each arm was a piston, and Jacob already knew why Charles had added it. It would help absorb the impact.

Jacob’s eyes lit up. “You could put the balls from the city smith in here!”

Charles paused and stared at Jacob for a moment. “That’s … that’s not a bad idea, my boy. If we added a small engine here …” He pointed toward the end of the piston, near the gearbox. “We could mount it at the elbow. It would be too hot to have a boiler, but we may be able to use a Burner, for short bursts of extra power. Why, they would be able to move boulders if it worked.”

“Let me try,” Jacob said.

Charles glanced at the ancient clock above his workbench. “It’s almost time for Festival. You’ll need to get down to the Square.”

“I have a couple hours still.”

Charles gestured to the pile of metal and leather. “Have at it, then.  Have at it.”

The old man trimmed off a small piece of the city smith’s rubber pellets while Jacob took the screws out of the shiny brass piston. “Careful, that one has liquid in it.” He kept an eye on Jacob while the boy worked. Jacob’s tongue was half out of his mouth, clenched between his teeth. It was a sure sign of concentration.

“Got it.”

Charles leaned over and slid the slivers of rubber into the base of the piston. The boy was right, he knew. The strange rubber from the smith was the greatest shock absorber he’d ever seen, heat resistant and incredibly durable.

Jacob reassembled the housing and clamped a bracket onto one of the larger exposed gears in the elbow. Charles was impressed. The boy knew enough to keep it away from the hard stops—the thick metal squares that protected the operator from overextending their joints—and leave enough room for air when the Burner ignited.

Jacob threaded a trigger into the gauntlet. The user would be able to fire the mechanism with one hand. Charles nodded in approval. Jacob grunted and tried to push the other end of Charles’s actuator into the clamp. Charles leaned over to help, dragging the mechanical arm a bit closer before pushing on the actuator until it clicked home.

“There you go,” Charles said.

“Does it look right?” Jacob asked.

Charles nodded. Jacob was a natural with machines. He had a very mechanical mind, as Charles liked to say.

Jacob nodded to himself and fished around the dozens of drawers beneath the workbench. He finally found what he was looking for: the smallest Burners Charles ever made. Each was a black metal sphere with a series of holes all around it and a single cylinder sticking up in the middle. Jacob knew, when he pressed the cylinder in, the igniter would hit the fuel and the Burner would live up to its name.

He dropped the Burner into the edge of the actuator and fastened a metal latch to hold it in place.

“Ready?” Jacob asked.

“Let’s see what your arm can do,” Charles said. He didn’t really expect such an early test to do much, but he did like to humor the boy.

Jacob didn’t need any more prompting than that. He pushed the trigger on the Burner and jumped back. Small flames burst out of the little orb, and the mechanism in the actuator began to shake.

“I think it’s going to work,” Charles said. “Now, be careful when you initialize the—”

Without either of them touching it, the actuator engaged, metal screamed, and the arm snapped out perfectly straight. Charles shouted as the gauntlet punched through the back of the workbench and put a hole in the observatory wall.

The old man smacked his lips together while they both stared at the device now stuck in his wall. “Well, it works.”

Jacob started to laugh, and then he bit his tongue. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would do that.”

Charles laughed and patted Jacob’s head. “If I’d thought it would do that, I wouldn’t have let you touch it. We’re both fine, and this old place can always use a little ventilation. I’ve certainly had experiments end worse than that.”

The Burner was still going, so Charles began pumping his old fire extinguisher. He’d geared the old tank so it only took a few pumps and a few squeals of the rusty gears to build up quite a bit of pressure. He aimed the air nozzle at the Burner and twisted the release valve on the extinguisher. A blast of air extinguished the fire.

Charles glanced at the clock again. “You better get going. I’m not going to be the one to deal with Miss Penny if you’re late for Festival.”

Jacob glanced up at the clock. “I still have to change!” Jacob could hear Charles laughing, even after he’d run through the door and started down the hill.

Jacob smiled as the wind tugged at his shirt. Even as he ran, something told him it was time for Festival: the colors. Colors of every shade imaginable lined the streets. Even the Lowlanders, dressed in their grays and browns, wore explosions of color in scarves and parasols and gloves. It seemed there were more people in the streets leading back to the Hall than could possibly live in all the lands combined.

Carriages carried Highlanders along the cobblestones. Guides pointed out some of the old buildings, shouting and gesturing so everyone could see where royalty had once lived. Some of the structures had been converted into an orphanage, another into an old museum.

A particularly large beetle pulled one carriage. It had an enormous horn, nearly as long as its body. A girl sat on top of the white carriage behind the black behemoth. She waved at Jacob, flashing a white lace glove, and he smiled back at her. She leaned over and whispered to the older woman beside her as he ran by them and into the courtyard around the Hall.

“Jacob!”

Jacob slowed his jog as he looked around, trying to find the source of his name. He found her across the street, near the entrance to the Hall. Alice wore a bright yellow gown with a string of blue flowers hung around her shoulders. Her bright white shoes caught his eye and he said a silent prayer that he wouldn’t be the one to ruin them.

Jacob stopped beside her. “You look pretty today.”

“You look sweaty and like you need to change,” Alice said, shaking the curls of her red hair with one hand.

“You seem awfully calm about that.” Jacob eyed her, knowing full well how angry Alice could get with him. Her anger was usually justified, but he’d never admit that.

Alice smiled and watched a carriage go by. It was the Highlanders again, riding behind their beetle. Alice lowered her gaze back to Jacob, her eyes bright blue in the midday sun.

“I’m calm about it,” Alice said, “because the dance got pushed back an hour. Someone spilled wine all over the speaker’s jacket. We have some time. Just get into the Hall in about thirty minutes, okay? Miss Penny will kill us if you’re late.”

“You mean me.”

“I mean
us.
I promised her I’d make sure you got here on time.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

Alice gave him a little nod as he took off for the cluster of vendors set up all around the courtyard in front of the Hall. Extra time meant more exploring. There, deeper in the Lowlands, were the less expensive vendors. Most of the Highland vendors would stay closer to the Square. It wasn’t very far away from the Hall, but Jacob didn’t think he could make it there and back before their dance.

Jacob deftly dodged two running children. He didn’t recognize them, but considering how nice their clothes were, he was pretty sure they didn’t live nearby. The next person was a somewhat plump man with a bald head, and rosy cheeks that told Jacob the man had probably been in the drink. Jacob intentionally bumped into him and apologized profusely.

“It’s quite alright. Just be more careful next time.” The man went to tip his hat to Jacob, then looked surprised when it wasn’t there. “I seem to have left my hat at the saloon. Have a good day.”