Alchemist's Kiss (18 page)

He waved them all inside, his magic raising the lights as they entered. Icarus was not surprised by the towering stacks of useless items piled haphazardly about in the main room. The fireplace sprang to life, the merry burning of the wood crackling.

He looked at Cora to see that she was studying every inch of the room, her eyes missing no detail.

“Come along.” Rivensbrow nodded toward an arched doorway. He stepped away, and Cora clutched Icarus' arm tightly.

“Do you see what's here, Icarus?”

He looked about again, but noticed nothing of note in the stacks.

“That's the LillyDragon Mirror.” Cora's voice was quiet but sharp as she pointed to a mirror hanging askew on one wall. “And that is Alastair Dunshore's grimoire.” Her finger moved to indicate a book bound in leather that lay overturned on a table.

“Impossible.” Icarus moved away to study the cover of the book. Though the binding was stretched it was not broken, and he did recognize the spiral of the famous wizard's writing on it. “These items were cataloged as lost.”

“My mother was quite good at finding lost things.” Rivensbrow poked his head back through the archway. “Her particular magical talent was rooted in geo-location of items lost by the owner. When she recovered items after the death of the owner she kept them.”

“All of these things belonged to wizards?” Cora turned about to count the myriad of stacks heaped up in the room.

“Her worst trait happened to be organization, I'm afraid.” Rivensbrow grinned, though Icarus could hear the taunt note of sadness underlying the words. “Come on, then. What we need is through here.”

Icarus returned to Cora's side and took her hand. They followed Rivensbrow through the doorway. Icarus found it hard to contain his own surprise as Cora let out a gasp.

The room before them was an anathema to the one they'd left behind. Bright light flooded the cavernous space, and every inch of the room was spotlessly clean and free of dust. Metal boxes filled with wires and diodes lay on a long table that bisected the room, and bits of spring and copper piping were stacked neatly beside it.

“This is my workroom.” Rivensbrow moved beside the table and Machiavelli hopped to the surface, his talons clicking as he moved.

“What kinds of things are you building?” Cora asked, her curious eyes on every item.

“A bit of this. A bit of that.” Rivensbrow grinned at Icarus' irritated huff. “I make things that make the lives of non-magicals easier.” He picked up a small box from the table and showed it to them. Icarus found himself irritated that he knew little about the inner workings of the item. The rivets and springs and cogs were quite similar to the mechanism that moved Archimedes' arm, but there was no magic to power the movements. “This is called a torch.”

“What does it do?” Cora peered hard at the box, studying the cone-shaped outer hull and the small glass globe within it. She gasped and stepped closer to Icarus when the glass globe glowed and light poured out, magnified by the cone-shaped covering. Electricity was common, but was known to require large rooms full of wires, and many wizards to produce and distribute it. Never had they seen an item so small produce such light.

“It lights the way for the coal miners and mill workers who must toil deep within the mill.” Rivensbrow handed the contraption to Cora and showed her how to push the button and illuminate the light.

“Preposterous.” Icarus ignored the chuckle from the bird on the table. “There are wizards who provide the light.”

“And the mills pay their workers a bare wage, just so they can afford to pay the wizards. With just a few of these, and one on every worker's helmet, they could eliminate that cost and pay their workers a fair wage.”

Icarus glared as Cora shone the light on his face, and he had to cover his eyes. “What of the wizards? Should they lose their jobs?”

Rivensbrow leaned his hip against the table, grinning as Cora continued to study the torch. “No one said a thing about firing the wizards. Imagine what more they could do, if they were free of the menial task of keeping the lights up in the mill? What more could we accomplish, by working
with
science instead of against it?”

Icarus looked at Cora as she laughed, her torch casting Machiavelli a giant shadow on the wall. “At the very least, it would keep the children amused.” He smiled when she shot him a glare.

“So how do we track the orb energy?” Cora placed the torch gently on the table and leaned into Icarus' arm when he pulled her closer.

Machiavelli flapped and flew to a box the height of Icarus' hip in the corner. He pecked the top of it gently. “Rivensbrow has been working on showing us the aether, via mechanical means, at my behest.” Orrin said.

“So you're a proponent of science now, too? Am I the lone hold-out in this?” Icarus ignored Cora's quiet chuckle.

“I will do whatever it takes to make sure an unnecessary war doesn't happen.” The Raven shook its head at Icarus, a mimic of its master's gesture.

“Can you do it? Show us the aether?” Cora looked at Rivensbrow with wide eyes. “I've imagined what it must be like, when it talks to me, but we can only ever see the light it gives off.”

Rivenbrow bowed, moving to the machine in the corner. “Indeed, Ms.Jenkins, I can. And by illuminating the aether, we can trace the orbs.”

“Because the orbs nullify the aether, so any gap in aether will be an indication that a group of orbs is in close proximity.”

Rivensbrow clapped at Icarus' summation. “You're more the scientist than you know, Grand Adept.”

Icarus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Carry on with the experiment, Rivensbrow. We must find Croft before my father does. With The Hand, and Croft's machine, there will be no limit to his power.”

Rivensbrow handed them each a pair of goggles, and Icarus tucked a strand of now-red hair under the strap above Cora's ear. He saw her shiver at the caress of his gloved hand over her neck, and had the urge to run from the place with her. He wanted to take her somewhere safe, where he could undress every glorious inch of her and see what other ways he could make her shiver.

“You're not paying attention.” she whispered, her elbow striking his rib. He grunted, but leaned closer to her as Rivensbrow set to work on his machine.

“I can only think of you, Cora.”

“How sweet.” She elbowed him again, “And I adore you for it, but we must focus. Once your father is defeated we will have all the time we please together.”

“If only Archimedes could see us.” He couldn't help himself, and he stroked his finger over her collarbone again. “Finally getting along.”

She laughed the soft laugh he loved, and pulled her goggles down, her eyes owlish in the magnification. “Archie told me that I should fight for you. Make you recognize the error of your ways in denying our love. I promised him that I would tell you how I felt before it was too late.”

He laughed so loud and so long that both Rivensbrow and Machiavelli turned from the machine to stare at him. He ignored them and pulled Cora tight against him, breathing in the scent of her hair.

“What's so funny?” she said, her words muffled against his coat.

“Only that I swore to him to do the same. It seems Archimedes has hedged his bets. At some point, one or both of us was bound to come 'round to his thinking.”

Cora laughed too, and he could feel the heat of her breath through his shirt before she pulled away to look up at him. “He is the wiliest of us all after all.”

Icarus let her go and they walked toward Rivensbrow as he tinkered at the machine. “He is wise, that much is sure. Perhaps more so than I have given him credit for.”

“Why thank you.” Rivensbrow turned at Icarus' comment and bowed a mocking bow. “If you please, the machine is ready.”

“Oh the excitement of it all.” Icarus said dryly. He ignored Cora's snort of laughter and waved Rivensbrow on as Machiavelli hopped to his shoulder. “Please continue.”

“Someday, Kane, you'll be knocked off that high horse.” Rivensbrow waggled his eyebrows as he pushed buttons and the machine began to hum.

“Oh that's quite doubtful,” Cora broke in, laughter in her voice, “He's quite an exceptional horseman.”

Icarus raised his eyebrows and pointed at Cora. “And that is why she is the most extraordinary apprentice.”

Rivensbrow laughed and stepped back to stand beside them. He rubbed a hand over his hair, mussing it. “Here we go.”

“And what, pray tell, will happen?” Icarus made sure Cora was standing just behind the smaller man.

Rivensbrow rubbed his hands together and grinned. “You're about to find out.”

He pulled a long lever and a hum vibrated on the air.

“How does this contraption work?” Icarus kept Cora from moving closer even as she glared at him. The clanking and clicking of Rivensbrow's machine made him nervous.

“Steam is piped in from the mill through here,” Rivensbrow pointed to a set of copper pipes that lined the walls, “and into the machine. The power of the steam moves the internal turbine, which in turn creates electricity. The current passes over a simple metal plate fastened to the inside of the machine and, much like the telegraph, the spark it emits can be used to produce a sound wave on a certain frequency.”

“The same frequency of the aether.” Cora clutched Icarus' arm as she worked out Rivensbrow's invention with her quick wit. She frowned, furrows in her brow. “But how did you determine the frequency of the aether?”

“Quite simply.” Rivensbrow moved to a row of shelves and removed a long box filled with sand.

“Sand?” Icarus found himself intrigued despite his dislike for science in general. The prospect of the universe holding secrets that magic could not access made his tongue tickle, but he was learning that ingenuity was not without merit.

“Every frequency creates a different pattern in the sand. I simply directed the aether to power my speaking tube, and watched the pattern emerge. I then tested several frequencies until I found one that matched the pattern.”

“Ingenious.” Icarus said, flushing when Rivensbrow laughed heartily at his praise.

“So you see, Grand Adept Kane, there are many ways for magic and science to mingle without strife between them.” Rivensbrow held up the box, and Icarus saw a delicate pattern of swirls in the sand behind the glass.

“Can we hear the aether, if it powers your speaking tube?” Cora's grip was tight on Icarus' arm. He knew she was more attuned to the aether than most, and she longed to give it form when it naturally had none. She wanted others to hear the voice of the aether as she was able to do.

“Perhaps with a crystal of quartz that was pure and the size of my motorcar.” Rivensbrow pointed to the machine, the hum growing louder as he spoke over it. “The compression of the small crystal in my machine creates the sound wave that resonates with the aether. It should cause the aether particles to become visible to us.”

“How long will it take to be fully visible?” Icarus looked around, expecting, and hoping, he admitted to himself, to see the magical particle finally visible to the naked eye.

Rivensbrow removed his pocket watch and snapped open the case. “Less than five minutes.”

Icarus looked down at Cora, who could barely contain her excitement. He felt foolish for dismissing science because of his own emotional bias, and he wondered how silly he must have appeared in the eyes of his more open-minded friends.

“You've gone pensive.”

He smiled at Cora. She could read him as well as an open book. “Just feeling foolish, I'm afraid.” He nodded to Rivensbrow, who tinkered over his machine with his back to them. “It has suddenly become very clear to me that I have been rather closed minded in matters regarding science and magic.”

Cora's chuckle gave him a curiously warm feeling in his chest. She sobered and raised her eyebrow. “And this has only just occurred to you, has it?” She swatted at him with her parasol. “When Archie and I have been saying it for years, at the least.”

“Not a tale I would like to tell in my dotage, to be sure.” He couldn't help but to smile at her. Merriment danced in her eyes, and that strange sense of warmth in his chest grew in intensity. He rubbed the ache.

“If you please.” Rivensbrow moved away from the machine, Machiavelli still perched on his shoulder. He snapped closed his watch and tucked it away. “We are set to begin.”

Icarus wrapped his fingers around Cora's when her hand crept into his. “Are you afraid?” he asked her quietly.

She shook her head, “No, I find myself exhilarated. It's as if I'm perched precariously at the edge of a cliff, certain that a gust of well-directed wind will flutter by and push me over the edge. Yet, I cannot move away.”

“I will not let you fall, you know.”

She smiled, and it was something of a beauty he could not name nor match. “I should hope not.” She pouted her pink lips at him, “I did jump from the side of dirigible to save
you
.”

“And you shall never let me forget it.”

Rivensbrow waved them quiet as the hum gained volume and intensity. Icarus could not resist squeezing Coras hand as he felt the weight of the air in the room increase. Machiavelli ducked his head, pressing it against Rivensbrow's neck. The more sensitive organs of the bird must have been tormented by the noise of the machine.