Authors: Shanna Swendson
Tags: #YAF060000 YOUNG ADULT FICTION / Steampunk; YAF019040 YOUNG ADULT FICTION / Fantasy / Historical; YAF058030 YOUNG ADULT FICTION / Social Themes / Class Differences
I was surprised by how full the theater was. I recognized many of the patrons from Mechanics-related gatherings, and a few of the girls from my network of contacts were there. Most of the theatergoers seemed to be from the neighborhood—no upper-crust patrons of the arts, except for the one woman richly dressed all in black and heavily veiled. I didn’t know her identity, but she appeared at many of the Mechanics’ events and funded some of their inventions. She looked at us, and I had the feeling that our eyes met for a moment. She adjusted her veil, as though making sure it thoroughly covered her face.
“Do they always do this sort of thing?” Henry whispered to me.
“They do like to put on a show. It just usually isn’t on a stage.”
He grinned and settled back in his seat. “It’s been ages since I had an evening at the theater.”
Soon, the lights dimmed, somewhat unevenly. There was a halfhearted spatter of applause when Colin—who else?—appeared on the stage in front of the curtain. I smiled at the thought that Flora would be extremely jealous of me. Or perhaps might find her infatuation fading, depending on what happened.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, projecting his voice to the back row. “We are pleased to present the finest collection of theatrical entertainment you’re likely to find tonight on this block.” That got a chuckle from the audience. “And without further ado, a scene from Shakespeare himself.”
He jumped off the stage to take a seat in the front row as the curtain opened. It got stuck halfway, and someone had to run out and give it a sharp yank before it revealed the entire stage.
I recognized the setup for what had to be the famous balcony scene from
Romeo and Juliet
. The balcony was made of scaffolding on which a garland of flowers had been draped. Juliet wore a wig of long braids that trailed behind her. The scene went the way I’d memorized it, until at one point Romeo abruptly said, “Juliet, Juliet, let down your hair.” She dropped the braids over the side of the balcony, and he proceeded to climb up to join her, to much amusement from the audience. The scene progressed in an odd mix of
Romeo and Juliet
and the fairy tale “Rapunzel” that I had to admit was quite clever, though rather broadly acted.
The rest of the show was more of the same, with Colin entertaining the crowd during scene changes. He put his powerful tenor voice to use, singing plaintive songs about the land across the sea, and those interludes were the only times when the show could be taken at all seriously.
It was during one of his songs that a murmur came through the crowd, and I turned to see several uniformed soldiers entering the theater. I couldn’t tell if this was a raid or if they were merely looking for entertainment on their night off.
“What’s happening?” I whispered to Lizzie.
“Don’t worry,” she replied, also in a whisper. “This is what we want. They come most every night, trying to catch us doing something clandestine. Instead, all they get are Colin’s bad jokes.”
“Every night? But I thought he was out of town.”
“Shh. We’ll talk later.”
I barely noticed the rest of the show as I worried about what would happen. It would be very bad if the magister men were recognized. Even if they weren’t connected to revolutionary activities, they were associating with nonmagister women in a situation that looked romantic. I knew Henry didn’t socialize much and was never mentioned in the society pages, but I wasn’t sure how well-known the others were. I forced myself not to stare at the soldiers. They hadn’t approached us and didn’t seem to be paying much attention to us. Perhaps they wouldn’t if I didn’t draw their notice by acting nervous.
Colin closed out the night by presenting the “To be or not to be” soliloquy from
Hamlet,
and I was surprised to find that he performed it entirely straight, without the slightest hint of satire. I shouldn’t have been surprised to find that he was an excellent actor, considering how much his work relied upon showmanship. The Rebel Mechanics knew how to stage a scene.
The soldiers applauded along with everyone else as the lights came up and the cast came out to take their bows. Henry, Geoffrey, and Philip cheered along with everyone else. They grinned like they’d really enjoyed the show.
We stayed as the theater slowly emptied. Much to my relief, the soldiers left without lingering. The veiled woman remained until almost everyone else was gone before slipping away after what I felt was one last long glance at us. When only the cast was left resetting the stage, Lizzie brought our group down to the front. Colin jumped off the stage to come greet us. “So, what did you think of our little show?” he asked.
“I enjoyed it a great deal,” I said, quite honestly.
“It was a rather entertaining production,” Henry said.
“Jolly good show,” Philip added.
Colin gave a pointed look at the three magisters, then turned back to me, raising a quizzical eyebrow. I knew it would technically be proper to introduce him to the others, as they were higher in rank, but I thought this was hardly a time to stick to social rules. “Colin, you remember Henry, don’t you? And these are his friends, Philip and Geoffrey. “
Philip stuck his hand out at Colin. “Delighted to meet you. You’re awfully talented,” he said, beaming.
After a pause that went on long enough to become rude, Colin took his hand and shook it. “Thank you. You’re obviously a man of excellent taste.”
Lizzie took his arm. “I need a word with you, my dear brother,” she said.
To us, he said, “I’m sure she wants to critique the
Hamlet
. She’s never satisfied.” In spite of his jovial tone, his eyes were serious.
“I don’t think he’s happy to see us,” Geoffrey said dryly as we watched them go to the other side of the theater, where they had an animated discussion. All of Colin’s discussions were animated, but this one seemed particularly intense. From this distance, I couldn’t tell who was arguing what or which one was winning. They were both smiling when they returned to us.
“Would you like to join us for the cast party?” Colin asked. “Then we can get to know each other. If you’ll follow me…” We followed him to the theater’s basement. “I’m afraid we’ll have to take the long way around, since you took that doorway away for us.”
“We can put it back for you,” Henry said.
“That should probably wait until after the soldiers leave town. We don’t have the machines here anymore, but we don’t want them discovering what we’ve done with their old subway system in case they pull another surprise inspection at the theater.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Henry agreed. “But when you want the door back, send a message to Verity.”
Colin stopped at the end of the passage we were in. “I’m going to show great faith in you by not blindfolding you. You already know about the subway, and you know a couple of the access points, so there’s not much point in confusing you about where you are now. But I will stress that this location is a secret that only the Rebel Mechanics know.”
“On our honor, we will keep this secret,” Geoffrey said solemnly.
“Well, good, then. Otherwise, I’d have to kill you.” Colin grinned as he said it, but his eyes were unusually serious. I shuddered at the thought that he might have meant it.
In Which
We Make Great Plans
I felt like Colin was taking us on a particularly circuitous
path as we spent longer than I recalled was necessary walking through tunnels. I was tempted to mark a wall so I’d know we were walking in circles if I saw the mark again. Finally, we reached a large steel door.
“Wait here a moment while I prepare our hosts for your presence,” Colin said. “Ladies, if you’ll care to join me—other than Verity.” Lizzie and Emma followed Colin through the doorway, leaving me with the magister men.
“I get the feeling we’re not entirely welcome,” Philip said, his tone flippant.
“But I thought they wanted money,” Geoffrey said, frowning.
“I don’t think they like having to ask for it,” Henry said.
“What they wanted was more money from the Masked Bandits,” I explained. “They probably don’t want money from magisters, unless it’s stolen from them. This is…I think this is making them think about people in a different way. They hate owing you anything. Remember, you’re what they’re rebelling against.”
“We’re what we’re rebelling against, too,” Philip said. “We don’t want to have to be what we are.”
“Then you’ll have to show them who you are, that you’re individual people, not just magisters.”
I was beginning to fear that Colin had stranded us there when he finally returned. “Come, and enjoy the party,” he said, flinging the door open theatrically.
We found ourselves in the main station of the underground railway. “It’s got to be the safest place in the city for us to gather, since no one knows about it,” Colin said. “And you have to admit, an underground rail station is rather appropriate for our cause.”
The magisters had seen the station the night we loaded the machines onto the subterranean railway to get them out of the city, but they hadn’t had much time then to look at their surroundings. This station had been built when the railway was meant as a way for magisters to travel out of the weather. As a result, it looked like the first-class waiting area of a major railroad depot, with decorative tile and fine wood furnishings. By the time the station was completed and the tunnel bored, the magisters had moved uptown, and the railroad never went into service—until the Mechanics found it and fitted it out with their machines.
I was familiar with the station, but I’d never seen it quite like this before. The benches had been shoved aside to create an open dance floor on which people in colorful Mechanics garb were twirling around to the tunes provided by a small band set up in a corner. They didn’t have the full-sized calliope that had been at the last Mechanics party I’d attended, but they did have a miniature model providing a breathy, hooting descant to their wild music.
I recognized the odd and overly complicated drink dispenser, but there was also a new one with an array of bottles and a mass of tubing flowing into a line of glasses. The big machines might be safely out of the city, but some of the smaller models were there. A small traction engine pulled a cargo of sandwiches across the floor, and a tiny airship drifted around the room with a basket of roasted nuts in its gondola. People grabbed handfuls as it passed them.
“You appear to incorporate your mechanical philosophy into your recreation, as well,” Geoffrey remarked to Colin.
“It’s a way of life,” Colin said. “We think of new ways of doing things. Some of the machines are less useful than others, but they’re still fun to make.”
I noticed after watching the party for a minute or two that most of the attendees wore goggles pulled down over their eyes. I knew the Mechanics often wore goggles as part of their attire, sometimes even for practical purposes, but were they now using them as masks to hide their identities from the visiting magisters?
Philip was the first to make a move to join the party. He approached Emma and held out his hand in an invitation to dance. Soon, they’d blended into the swirl of color in the middle of the room. “Feel free to enjoy yourselves,” Colin urged. “We’ll talk later when all of us are here.”
Geoffrey and Henry looked at each other and shrugged. “We may as well,” Geoffrey said. “How often are we likely to get an invitation like this?”
Henry turned to me. “You’ve been to their parties before, haven’t you? What would you recommend?”
“I think you should get a drink over there.” I pointed to the drink dispenser. “You really ought to see it in action.”
We skirted the dance floor to reach it, and Geoffrey went first in tossing a small gear into the tray that set the elaborate machine in motion, mixing various liquids to be poured into a tin cup. He and Henry laughed as they watched the machine in motion. Just as Henry was taking his turn, I noticed someone approaching us. He wore a hat and goggles, but my breath caught in my throat as I watched him. The first time I’d met Alec, he’d been dressed similarly. I wondered if there would ever come a time when seeing him didn’t affect me so strongly. I’d seen him just days ago, so it wasn’t as though this was the first time I’d encountered him after our falling-out.
When he reached us, he took off his hat, shoved the goggles up onto his forehead, and bowed slightly to me. “This is a bit of a surprise,” he said.
“It shouldn’t be. You were the one who approached me to ask for help.” I gestured to the magisters. “I brought them so you could ask them yourself.”
Henry, having obtained his drink, turned around and saw Alec. “Oh, hello. Alec, was it?” he said. “Good to see you again. This is Geoffrey. I don’t know if you remember him from the night we saved your machines. And Philip is around here somewhere.” If he noticed any tension, he gave no sign of it, but he had managed to slip in a reminder of the aid they’d already provided.
Alec nodded to them. “Thank you again for your help. And for considering helping us again. There are a couple more people who aren’t here yet, so enjoy yourselves in the meantime.”
“It’s quite a show you’re putting on,” Geoffrey said.
“You’ve seen the real machines. These are just demonstrations and class projects,” Alec said.
“So you’re a student?” Henry asked.
“Not on track to graduate anytime soon,” Alec said with a laugh. “I keep missing classes.”
“And I imagine your term was disrupted when you had to flee the city.”
“The machines had to leave. The people can come and go, as long as we keep our heads down. In fact, us being in class keeps them from knowing for certain who was part of the movement they thought they drove out. If we’d vanished, it would have been like a confession.” He turned to me. “Verity, would you care to dance?”
“Not really,” I said.
“Then would you be willing to take a turn around the room with me?”