Authors: K. W. Jeter
Tags: #Science Fiction, #Fiction, #Steampunk, #General
Fiendish Schemes (14 page)
“But is there not some resulting loss of elevation?” I pointed toward the object. “That is, from making the lighthouses so much smaller?”
“Smaller?” Fusible frowned at me. “What are you going on about, you twit? We’re not making them smaller—we’re making them bloody
bigger
. Look there—” He pointed at the object’s base, near its jointed legs. “That’s the size of the one we just launched out in Cornwall.”
I saw then a second object, of similar appearance but much subordinate in dimension. This scarcely reached a foot in height, coming up but a fraction of the vertical expanse of the larger one beside it. All of which meant that my initial perception of gazing upon some detailed model had been correct—but also that the actual thing which it represented would be of an intimidatingly enormous construction.
“
Now
you see, don’t you?” Lord Fusible smiled gloatingly at me. “Magnificent, isn’t it? We call it the
Colossus of Blackpool
.”
“But certainly . . .” I felt dizzied, as though the apprehension of such a monstrous device, dwarfing all its predecessors, had sent swirling the thoughts within my head. “Certainly such a thing could never actually exist—”
“The bloody hell it can’t.” Ash drifted from the ember of Fusible’s grandly outflung cigar. “It’s under construction at this very moment, in our land docks up in North London. Damn near finished, too. We’ve managed to keep it a secret from the world—but soon everybody and his brother will gaze upon it and marvel. That’ll be a fine day, won’t it?”
I could make no reply to him. Something about this impending monstrosity appalled my soul. An unbidden image came within me, of this Colossus towering above the landscape, the searing light of its beam sweeping across both city and ocean. Great billows of steam wreathed the vision, as though some cyclopean giant were peering down through the clouds, inventorying his possessions.
“A fine day, indeed.” Another voice spoke up, neither Fusible’s nor mine. “I look forward to it. . . .”
Turning, I saw that Captain Crowcroft had followed us into this chamber, far from the other guests and his betrothed. As I watched, he stepped forward into the circled glow cast by the lantern. A dismayingly fervent gleam sparked in his eyes as he laid his hands atop the Colossus model, as might a practitioner of some primitive religion approach a sacred idol.
“So you should.” Fusible nodded in evident appreciation of the other man’s enthusiasm. “When you’re at the helm of this bloody great blighter, there’ll not be much that won’t look up to you!”
The air in the chamber felt suddenly oppressive, my lungs futilely labouring as though I were trapped within the windowless cells of some charitable lodging for the insane. The others’ voices faded from my perception as the space grew infinitely larger, the better to accommodate the Colossus swelling and towering above me. . . .
“FOR
God’s sake, man, pull yourself together.” A single voice now barked close to my ear. “You’re embarrassing me.”
I opened my eyes, discovering thereby that I was no longer standing up, but rather partly reclining upon the sort of
chaise longue
favoured by ladies of taste, when gripped by an event of the vapours. The noises of the gathering, the mingled voices and discreetly purring laughter, still came to my ear, but from a distance. My unconscious person, as well as Stonebrake—for it was he who was energetically jostling my shoulder—had evidently been removed to an otherwise empty chamber, away from that chamber slowly and mistily resolving itself in my recent memory.
“What happened?” I lifted my head, which was a mistake, that small motion evoking a dizzied constellation to sparkle across my tenuous vision.
“Went down like a bloody tentpole, you did.” A distinct lack of sympathy was evident in Stonebrake’s voice. He frowned as he leaned over me, dabbing at the corner of my brow with a folded handkerchief; when he pulled it away, the cloth was only slightly reddened. “Right in front of Lord Fusible—and all because he showed you that model of Phototrope Limited’s Colossus of Blackpool construction.” He shook his head. “If such is your notion of conveying a favourable impression on our backers, it’s rather a failure, in my estimation.”
“I was not aware I was required to make an impression of any kind, upon anyone.” My boots found the room’s floor as I managed to sit upright. “You might have warned me.”
“The matter seemed so obvious to me, that no comment was considered necessary.” Stonebrake tucked the stained handkerchief inside his jacket. “The enterprise upon which we have launched ourselves is of a nature that relies upon both extensive financial support as well as discretion.” He gestured toward the distant drawingroom. “These are the people upon whom we depend; important people, figures of the highest social standing—and wealth.”
“So?” My fingers tentatively prodded my throbbing forehead. “You had led me to believe that they were already committed to the success of our plans.”
“They might very well be—for the present moment. But they are more than capable of altering their minds. As they would have every right to do, upon seeing a crucial element such as yourself, swooning to the ground like a maiden just out of finishing school. Be assured, you are not yet cutting an impressive figure.”
“I suppose not.” A bitter, metallic taste crept over my tongue, as though I had been administered some medicinal tincture. “Feel free to give my apologies to our hosts. Generally, I am composed of at least slightly stronger stuff than I have exhibited so far. I must be more wearied from traveling than I had realized.”
“Excuses have been taken care of, already.” Stonebrake turned toward the doorway. “Allow me to see if Royston has brought around our carriage. Do not move from this spot—understood?”
I assured him that I had no intent otherwise. The room about me still seemed a bit vague at its edges; I lay back down on the
chaise,
with no expectation of further adventures, at least not for this night.
The event proved me wrong. Scarcely had I closed my eyes again than a woman’s urgent whisper sounded at my ear.
“You must come with me, Mr. Dower.” A note of fearful desperation tautened the words, as a twist upon a violin’s tuning peg would draw the note of its string higher. “Immediately—for the sake of your life and mine—”
Such an alarming message snapped my eyes wide open. I saw above me a fair and anxious face. The same as that, which the last time it had gazed upon me, not too many days past, had been marked with the utmost contempt and hatred.
9
 |
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I
HAD
not previously been aware that poisoning random individuals was a practice much engaged in by young Englishwomen of quality.” Disdain was evident in my voice, as was my intent. “I appear to have been misinformed on the subject.”
“Pray accept my apologies, Mr. Dower. I meant you no harm.” Lord Fusible’s daughter, Evangeline, whom I had last glimpsed at the lighthouse launch party on the Cornish coast, wrung a silk kerchief in her hands. The depth of her distress was apparent in her well-favoured features. “I wouldn’t have done it if there had been any alternative available to me.”
As I prepared my retort, I preoccupied myself with straightening the cuffs of my jacket. My thoughts were somewhat disordered by the communication I had received from the young lady, immediately upon my fellow conspirator Stonebrake’s exit from the room, that she had been responsible for my loss of consciousness, in the midst of the drawing-room’s gathering.
“It was but a medicinal tincture,” Evangeline had informed me. “That my mother’s uncle had brought back from his merchant days with the firm of Jardine Matheson in Shanghai. Reputedly popular for feminine complaints, but my experience has been that, combined with spirits, it invokes slumber rather than mere analgesia.”
Some filthy opiate, I decided; the sort of thing one would imagine being concocted by devious Chinese chemists. Upon her instructions, it had been conveyed to my lips in the wineglass forced upon me by one of the house hold’s servants.
“You might,” I noted, “have killed me. I took a hard fall.”
“It was a chance worth taking.”
My eyebrow raised in mute response to her comment. Though she was not gazing upon me with the same annihilating hatred that she had displayed upon our first encounter, it was still possible that she might hold some murderous ambitions toward me.
“You see,” continued Fusible’s daughter, “I had to speak to you.
In private. And I could see no other way of bringing that about.”
“Has the British post ceased operations?” The aftertaste of the drug crept across my tongue, as though it were some small fur-bearing animal. “You could just as well have sent me an invitation to tea, care of my hosts at Featherwhite House. I would have been happy to oblige you.”
“There is no time for that!” Her agitation became even more apparent. “Events are hurtling past us at a breakneck speed!” A wearied sigh escaped from my own breast. I had heard nearly this exact sentiment on so many occasions, that it might as well have been emblazoned on the fluttering banner which I was condemned to carry through life. Perhaps it was a curse that had been laid against me, for having once embarked, however unsuccessfully, upon commerce in those ticking devices that chivvy submissive Mankind through its dwindling hours, as though the hands of every watch and clock held little whips to lash against our backs. Perhaps the meat-eating viscount, with whom I had so recently made acquaintance, was correct in his assessment of our fallen state, and the unhurried glories of those primitive days when men reckoned Time only by the position of the sun above their unshod passage across the Earth.
