Of Silk and Steam
Page 48
He stared dully over the scene. The rows of automatons were almost eerie in the predawn stillness. Men would shift and shuffle in place, but not these.
Leo frowned. A single frequency to control them… Each handler’s control device was specifically coded to their stable of ten, but the frequency remained the same. “Unless…”
“What?” Rip asked.
Leo shook his head, scraping at the stubble on his jaw. “Nobody’s managed to bring back one of the handlers’ control devices?”
“No. Why?”
“I’m just…thinking.” He paced along the wall, staring at the Echelon’s army. “Several of my business enterprises are in communications, and the recent invention of radio frequency and telegraphs. It’s the way of the future, but progress is slow. Interruptions affect the efficiency of radio frequency all of the time. The frequency must be pitched precisely…” He trailed off, catching a glimpse of Rip’s expression.
“I’m listenin’,” Rip assured him. “You’re sayin’ change the frequency and it’ll drive the automatons barmy?”
“Mmm.” Possibly. He understood the basics of how the metaljackets worked, though warfare had never been his priority. “The frequency resonates with a chip in the metaljackets’ heads.”
“Off with their ’eads, then?”
“Maybe.” Both of them eyed the heavily plated steel helms staring back at them. “Take out the handlers and you crush the army. The Echelon’s been aware of that for a long time, so the handlers will be heavily guarded. Or could we create something? Something to interfere with the radio waves? Perhaps to change them?” He’d need one of the Echelon’s carefully guarded blacksmiths to do it—or perhaps one of the mechs who worked steel in the enclaves.
No. This kind of thing was most likely beyond them. Leo slammed his fist down on the wall. It could work if he had the right tools, the right people. “Anyone know how to work steel here? Any escaped mechs? Or a…a scientist…”
Honoria. The closest thing he had to a scientist. Sir Artemus Todd had been a lauded member of the Royal Society. Most who spoke of him called him a genius, and although his main field of work had been trying to discover a cure for the craving, there were rumors he’d dabbled in mechanics, creating plans for several highly advanced automatons and a pistol he’d modified with firebolt bullets that could take even a blue blood down. Honoria had apprenticed with him as a young woman.
Leo had seen her in action. Hell, she’d engineered the vaccine her father had discovered, using it on Leo’s thralls and offering him all of her notes to present to the Royal Society so that the vaccine could be delivered to the masses. It was the first step in loosening the prince consort’s stranglehold on the Echelon after he’d discovered a device that had been thought, at the time, to be the only cure for the craving.
For the first time, Leo’s head felt clear. “I need one of the frequency control devices.”
“Dawn ain’t far. They’ll ’ave ’em locked up tighter than a nun’s drawers.”
“I’ll need a few men then. Who?” Rip knew Blade’s lads better than he would.
Rip turned and put his fingers into his mouth to whistle sharply. Heads jerked up all along the wall, but he waved them down. “Send for Charlie, Lark, and Tin Man,” he bellowed.
Charlie. A cold ring circled the back of Leo’s neck. “I’m not taking the boy into that.”
“Lad’s a craver and ’e’s a right prig. Got fingers on ’im like one o’ them concert pianists. Can fan you up before you e’en know ’e’s there.”
“And if I get him killed, Honoria will strip the hide off me.” Not to mention that he already owed the lad an unrepayable debt.
“Don’t let ’im spill any claret, then.” Rip’s gaze was merciless. “I can’t leave these walls, not ’til Blade gets back. And you want the best.” A faint tip of the head. “’E’s the best. Devilish cocky ’bout it, but ’e’s damned good.”
Leo ground his teeth together.
“You think I’d send ’im if I thought ’e wouldn’t come back? Blood don’t mean much to most o’ us ’ere, but you see this?” Rip flexed the inside of his wrist, revealing the tattoo there. “Lad’s as much a part o’ me family as ’e is yours.”
More so. “Fine, I’ll take him.”
Wasn’t as if they all wouldn’t be among it when the war began anyway, but somehow, commanding troops on a battlefield was far easier when they weren’t your flesh and blood.
* * *
“Need help, kitten?” Charlie called, leaning over the edge of the rooftop.
“’Ow ’bout you sod off?” Lark snarled, ignoring the hand the boy extended and scaling the wall as if she were part monkey. The girl had been Charlie’s almost constant companion ever since he arrived at the rookery.
“Tsk, tsk. Such language.” Charlie sounded almost precisely like he was mimicking Honoria. “From a lady too.” He grinned and danced out of the way.
Lark flicked something from her wrist—the small steel whip she carried at her hip—its end lashing around Charlie’s boot and sending him sprawling on the roof. He hit it with an oof.
“Where the hell did you get that?” Charlie asked.
“Needed somethin’ to deal with impertinent gits who think they’re a great deal cleverer ’n they are.”
Charlie found his feet and winced. “It shocked me.”
“Wouldn’t know much about that,” she replied. “I’m just a slum brat with—”
“If you two don’t shut up,” Leo ground out, dragging himself onto the roof, “I’m going to wring both your necks.”
The pair fell silent. They’d been bickering since they left the wall, treating the whole thing like a romp in the park. If they hadn’t been so bloody good at what they did, he’d have sent them back to Rip an hour ago.
He’d started this venture with the idea of protecting them, keeping them safely out of the way while he and Tin Man did the heavy work. Charlie had considered his plan carefully, waited all of two seconds, then sketched out an alternative idea that sounded utterly ruthless, insanely dangerous, and like something nobody in their right mind would come up with.
Leo frowned. A single frequency to control them… Each handler’s control device was specifically coded to their stable of ten, but the frequency remained the same. “Unless…”
“What?” Rip asked.
Leo shook his head, scraping at the stubble on his jaw. “Nobody’s managed to bring back one of the handlers’ control devices?”
“No. Why?”
“I’m just…thinking.” He paced along the wall, staring at the Echelon’s army. “Several of my business enterprises are in communications, and the recent invention of radio frequency and telegraphs. It’s the way of the future, but progress is slow. Interruptions affect the efficiency of radio frequency all of the time. The frequency must be pitched precisely…” He trailed off, catching a glimpse of Rip’s expression.
“I’m listenin’,” Rip assured him. “You’re sayin’ change the frequency and it’ll drive the automatons barmy?”
“Mmm.” Possibly. He understood the basics of how the metaljackets worked, though warfare had never been his priority. “The frequency resonates with a chip in the metaljackets’ heads.”
“Off with their ’eads, then?”
“Maybe.” Both of them eyed the heavily plated steel helms staring back at them. “Take out the handlers and you crush the army. The Echelon’s been aware of that for a long time, so the handlers will be heavily guarded. Or could we create something? Something to interfere with the radio waves? Perhaps to change them?” He’d need one of the Echelon’s carefully guarded blacksmiths to do it—or perhaps one of the mechs who worked steel in the enclaves.
No. This kind of thing was most likely beyond them. Leo slammed his fist down on the wall. It could work if he had the right tools, the right people. “Anyone know how to work steel here? Any escaped mechs? Or a…a scientist…”
Honoria. The closest thing he had to a scientist. Sir Artemus Todd had been a lauded member of the Royal Society. Most who spoke of him called him a genius, and although his main field of work had been trying to discover a cure for the craving, there were rumors he’d dabbled in mechanics, creating plans for several highly advanced automatons and a pistol he’d modified with firebolt bullets that could take even a blue blood down. Honoria had apprenticed with him as a young woman.
Leo had seen her in action. Hell, she’d engineered the vaccine her father had discovered, using it on Leo’s thralls and offering him all of her notes to present to the Royal Society so that the vaccine could be delivered to the masses. It was the first step in loosening the prince consort’s stranglehold on the Echelon after he’d discovered a device that had been thought, at the time, to be the only cure for the craving.
For the first time, Leo’s head felt clear. “I need one of the frequency control devices.”
“Dawn ain’t far. They’ll ’ave ’em locked up tighter than a nun’s drawers.”
“I’ll need a few men then. Who?” Rip knew Blade’s lads better than he would.
Rip turned and put his fingers into his mouth to whistle sharply. Heads jerked up all along the wall, but he waved them down. “Send for Charlie, Lark, and Tin Man,” he bellowed.
Charlie. A cold ring circled the back of Leo’s neck. “I’m not taking the boy into that.”
“Lad’s a craver and ’e’s a right prig. Got fingers on ’im like one o’ them concert pianists. Can fan you up before you e’en know ’e’s there.”
“And if I get him killed, Honoria will strip the hide off me.” Not to mention that he already owed the lad an unrepayable debt.
“Don’t let ’im spill any claret, then.” Rip’s gaze was merciless. “I can’t leave these walls, not ’til Blade gets back. And you want the best.” A faint tip of the head. “’E’s the best. Devilish cocky ’bout it, but ’e’s damned good.”
Leo ground his teeth together.
“You think I’d send ’im if I thought ’e wouldn’t come back? Blood don’t mean much to most o’ us ’ere, but you see this?” Rip flexed the inside of his wrist, revealing the tattoo there. “Lad’s as much a part o’ me family as ’e is yours.”
More so. “Fine, I’ll take him.”
Wasn’t as if they all wouldn’t be among it when the war began anyway, but somehow, commanding troops on a battlefield was far easier when they weren’t your flesh and blood.
* * *
“Need help, kitten?” Charlie called, leaning over the edge of the rooftop.
“’Ow ’bout you sod off?” Lark snarled, ignoring the hand the boy extended and scaling the wall as if she were part monkey. The girl had been Charlie’s almost constant companion ever since he arrived at the rookery.
“Tsk, tsk. Such language.” Charlie sounded almost precisely like he was mimicking Honoria. “From a lady too.” He grinned and danced out of the way.
Lark flicked something from her wrist—the small steel whip she carried at her hip—its end lashing around Charlie’s boot and sending him sprawling on the roof. He hit it with an oof.
“Where the hell did you get that?” Charlie asked.
“Needed somethin’ to deal with impertinent gits who think they’re a great deal cleverer ’n they are.”
Charlie found his feet and winced. “It shocked me.”
“Wouldn’t know much about that,” she replied. “I’m just a slum brat with—”
“If you two don’t shut up,” Leo ground out, dragging himself onto the roof, “I’m going to wring both your necks.”
The pair fell silent. They’d been bickering since they left the wall, treating the whole thing like a romp in the park. If they hadn’t been so bloody good at what they did, he’d have sent them back to Rip an hour ago.
He’d started this venture with the idea of protecting them, keeping them safely out of the way while he and Tin Man did the heavy work. Charlie had considered his plan carefully, waited all of two seconds, then sketched out an alternative idea that sounded utterly ruthless, insanely dangerous, and like something nobody in their right mind would come up with.
