Steamborn (5 page)

Jacob smirked when the man turned around. He glanced down at the pocket watch he’d swiped. It was gold and intricately etched. Jacob flipped it over and saw the engraving.

Jacob’s heart lurched. He’d stolen someone’s grieving gift. He looked up, and the man was only a few dozen steps away. Jacob took off at a run, trying to think of a good story. He thought about telling the man he’d seen him drop it, but there weren’t any scratches. He thought about scratching it so his story would fit better, but that was a terrible thing to do to such a nice watch. In the end, he just ran into the man again, sliding the watch into a jacket pocket as easily as he’d stolen it.

“Child, I think you may need to lay off the rum,” the man said as he laughed and patted Jacob on the back. “Lord knows I do.” He smiled at Jacob and then turned to walk down another street.

Jacob fell back, relieved to have returned the watch without getting caught. He’d just have to find something else to help pay for his father’s medicine. Jacob made his way back to the courtyard around the Hall.

Men and women selling every imaginable kind of trinket and toy were lined up in crooked rows all across the yard. A few vendors were spaced farther apart, leaving room for games and tests of skill that no mortal could win. Meaning, of course, they were rigged. Jacob laughed as another boy cursed at a vendor in a top hat, claiming the large ball he was given to toss couldn’t possibly fit into any of the jugs.

“Hey, kid!”

Jacob looked up and stopped dead when he almost walked into another vendor, dressed all in black except for a fine silver chain that led from his belt to his pocket. Jacob hesitated to call him a vendor. The man looked more like a huckster, the kind that only came out to pilfer money when people were celebrating. Not a bad strategy, Jacob knew. Some of his best pickpocketing had been during last year’s Festival. Jacob also knew that chain didn’t belong to a watch. There would be something deadly on the other end.

“You play?” the man asked. Jacob looked behind the man. He was organizing a game of Cork. The vendor leaned down and caught Jacob’s eye. “Try your luck, boy! We only need one more player. Winner gets an
entire
bushel of strawberries.” The man in the black clothes held up more strawberries than Jacob had seen in his entire life.

“I have no money, sir.”

A lady in a fine gown stopped and looked between Jacob and the man. She rested a parasol on her shoulder while she pulled a purse out and handed the man a coin. Jacob could see it was gold, and likely worth more than his family made in a month. “For any boy who wants to play and can’t afford it,” she said with a smile. She winked at Jacob before she disappeared into the crowd. A moment later, Jacob realized she’d been the lady on the carriage who’d waved at him. He wanted to say thank you, but she was already deep into the crowd.

The huckster stared after her. A broad grin split his face when he looked back to Jacob. “It’s your lucky day! Take your side.”

Ten upright rings shifted in the breeze at eye level, five per side with a slightly taller center ring on the opposing ends of the field. Each stand that held up a ring stood three feet from the next. Three boys waited across the small playing field—which, at twenty-four feet, was rather large, considering Festival was under way—and Jacob joined a pair of boys on the closest side. There wasn’t much question that the other team worked for the huckster. They were older, and the stains on their hands said they probably worked in the mines like his father. He figured they’d throw hard but probably didn’t know a thing about strategy.

“First to ten!” the huckster said as he placed three small corkballs on the line at the center of the field. They were spaced far enough apart no one could grab two at a time.

“Who’s faster?” Jacob asked as he turned to his teammates.

The taller boy with dark brown hair hooked his thumb and said, “Reggie, my brother.”

“I’m Jacob.”

Both boys nodded. “I’m Bobby.” Bobby was quite a bit shorter the Reggie, closer to Jacob’s height, with the same hair as his brother.

“Alright, you guys play much?”

“No,” the brothers chorused before sharing a sly grin.

Jacob glanced up at the goals. They weren’t like the rusted-out buckets he was used to playing with. These goals had mesh across them, and he could see bells that would ring when one of the corkballs scored.

“Let’s go!” one of the older boys shouted.

Jacob hid his own smile. “Alright, Reggie, stay back by me. Leave the center goal unattended. They’ll all aim for it. Bobby, get a cork. Just one. Wait until the other two start throwing, and then go for the clearest goal behind either of them.”

“You sure?” Bobby asked.

“Yes, this is more about his strategy,” Jacob said with a nod toward the huckster, “than theirs. After the first goal, just catch the corks and aim for the outer goals.”

“Enough talk!” the huckster said. “Begin!” He smacked a small hanging gong.

The other team sprinted into motion before Bobby started running, but he still made it to the line first, grabbing one of the corks and taking a step back.

Jacob positioned himself between the first and second goal, while Reggie mirrored him. The corks came in fast, but they were both ready. Jacob reached out, and the first smacked into his left hand with a pop. He didn’t even have to look to know Reggie had caught his.

Reggie stepped forward and launched the cork at the same time Bobby shot. Bobby’s hit first, and Jacob heard the bell before he’d even let his cork fly. One of the boys got a fingertip on Bobby’s cork as he tried to dive for it. Another goal sounded as the boy flopped onto the stones and cursed.

Jacob’s cork sailed into the goal right behind him.

The other team just blinked at each other. Then they started shouting as they picked up the corks and started throwing them randomly. Jacob knew they would. These boys were only concerned about one thing, and that was making sure they kept the huckster happy. That made them sloppy.

By the time the score was seven to two, a crowd had formed around the field. Jacob clapped his hands and laughed. Bobby was grinning.

“Strawberries,” Reggie said. “I want the strawberries.” He pulled back and fired another cork. It left his own nets exposed, but Jacob slid in behind Reggie to catch another cork as it came back toward Reggie’s goal.

Jacob spun without stopping, whipping the cork forward in a sidearm motion. It slid beneath the arm of the largest boy and slammed into the side of the goal, pulling the net tight and setting another bell to ringing.

The crowd cheered, and Jacob couldn’t stop smiling. Highlanders and Lowlanders alike circled them, and they’d already chosen their favorite team.

“Two more,” Jacob said as he started to stalk around Bobby and Reggie in a large circle.

Bobby swatted a cork to the side before he said, “One more.”

“No!” the huckster shouted when another bell sounded. “What am I paying you fools for? You can’t beat a handful of riffraff?”

“Now!” one of the older boys said, and all three of them threw their corks at once.

Jacob heard the bells sound as two of the corks scored. The other smacked into the palm of his hand. He stepped forward and brought is arm around a smooth, overhand arc. His left foot slid over the rough cobblestone as he twisted his body, putting everything he had into the throw. Everyone watched as the little beige cork streaked through the air. The other boys had their nets guarded well, but Jacob’s aim was uncanny.

Jacob could almost hear the blood rushing in his ears in that moment of silence, where nothing but the wind and the crowds in the distance made a sound. The bell rang out.

Bobby and Reggie made incoherent sounds of joy as they realized they’d won. A brief applause rose from the crowd with a round of cheers. Jacob reveled in the people congratulating his team before the audience began dispersing.

The huckster cursed and turned back to his wagon. When he turned around again, he had an enormous crate of strawberries. “Well, no one can call me a liar. I said you’d win a bushel, and here it is.” The wooden crate made a distinct thump as it hit the cobblestones.

“How are we going to carry those?” Reggie asked, laughing. “There’re so many.”

“It’s a nesting crate,” Jacob said as he pulled the top of the crate off and turned it over. “Here, look,” he said as he tugged on the corners of the cloth resting beneath the top half of the strawberries. “Grab that side.”

Bobby and Reggie both grabbed a corner and the three boys lifted the top half of the strawberries up and set them gently into the top half of the crate.

“Good call,” Bobby said. He paused and looked at Jacob. “Do you live around here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

Jacob nodded. “I’m down in the Lowlands.”

“Well, you’re a hell of a Cork player,” Reggie said. “You should come up and see us sometime. We play on Saturdays up by the city wall.”

“We live just outside the wall,” Bobby said, as if he felt a need to let Jacob know they weren’t really Highlanders either.

“I will!” Jacob said. “That sounds like fun.”Jacob stumbled when someone slapped him on the back. He turned around, slightly annoyed until he saw who it was. “Charles!”

“Nicely played, boys. Nicely played.” Charles adjusted his leather vest. It seemed to have an infinite amount of pockets and flaps.

“Reggie,” Jacob said. “Bobby, wait a minute.”

The boys paused before lifting their strawberries.

“Take some more of mine. I couldn’t eat all these if I tried.”

“Are you sure?” Bobby asked. “I mean, you could sell them if you weren’t going to eat them.”

That gave Jacob pause, but then he shook his head. Sometimes it was just nice to share things with friends.

“Thank you,” Reggie said, helping Jacob unload some of his strawberries into their crate. Reggie and Bobby said thanks several more times as they lifted their half of the crate, one brother on either side, and made their way to the north.

Charles snatched up one of Jacob’s strawberries and started chewing on it. “That was awful nice of you, boy. And you left this in the shop.” Charles held out the Spider Knight whistle.

Jacob didn’t even remember taking it with him, much less leaving it there. “Thank you!” Jacob slid the whistle into the deepest pocket on his right thigh.

“Why don’t you leave those with me?” Charles said, gesturing at the strawberries. “I’ll get them back to your folks for you on my way to the observatory.”

“That would be great,” Jacob said. “I need to change, or Alice is going to kill me. And then Miss Penny will kill me again. And then my mom will kill me.”

Charles raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Well then, you best be off. I’ve no use for an apprentice three times dead.”

“Don’t eat all of them!” Jacob said as he laughed and plunged into the crowd once more.

Jacob heaved a sigh of relief as the door to the Hall closed behind him. Two of the ice fans near the entrance were running, and they were blissful after a game of Cork. Charles had helped build them, right down to the quiet little engines affixed to the base of each one. The dull brass blades hummed, pulling air over the blocks of ice just behind them.

Jacob watched the mechanism for a moment, remembering what Charles had told him about the melting water cooling one metal plate while a small flame heated the other. It caused the bellows to pump up and down, spinning the blades and keeping the system running.

“Jacob!”

He looked up and saw one of the other boys adjusting a rounded hat with a thin brim on his head.

“You’re going to be late!”

Jacob left the fan behind and nodded at the other boy as he took off at a jog. Miss Penny had a makeshift changing room set up where they’d been rehearsing the night before. He pulled the gray cloth to the side and stepped through the fabric doorway. Inside were several smaller rooms, draped on all four sides with fabric. There was only one jacket and hat left, and that’s when it really hit him that he
was
cutting it close.

He slid the navy-blue jacket over the darkest brown pants he owned. Miss Penny had been very specific about everyone wearing the darkest brown they had. He knew a few kids wouldn’t have any browns, because even though it was cheap, it still cost money to dye their clothes.

Jacob didn’t wait to finish fastening the brass buttons. He started running back out of the Hall. He threw open the door and squinted as the sun almost blinded him. He kept working the buttons together as he jogged through the crowd, dodging kids and grandparents alike.

There wasn’t a game at the Cork field, so he sprinted across it and cut into an alley on the other side of the crowd. It was a thin pathway, enough so that most adults avoided it. There weren’t any kids there either, and he saw only a Jumper skittering from one shadow to the next.

He exited the other side of the alley, having cut quite a distance off his run, but the rest was uphill.  The farther Jacob made it up the steep cobblestone streets, the more carriages he saw. As much as he’d thought the white carriage with the girl had been fancy, that had been run down compared to the gilded works he ran past closer to the Square.

Jacob rounded the corner by the Lowlands’ only bank. Its pillars stuck a little too far out into the street, interrupting the flow of traffic. Jacob dashed in behind those stone columns, where almost no one was standing, and when he cleared the other side, he was at the far edge of the Square.

He couldn’t help but laugh and smile when he saw the mob of people and creatures and colors exploding across the entirety of the Square. Oh, he’d seen the carriages, yes, but here they were a constant, churning line, two rows deep. They came in from the side streets, dropping folks off in the Square. Some walked up into the elevated seating areas, and others mingled in the crowd around the fountain.

Jacob stopped beside a strange-looking mount. Its head was almost like a triangle, bright green with huge eyes. It cocked its head to one side and began to sway. Jacob noticed a series of metal bands around what he could only describe as arms—enormous arms that were folded together.