Professor Abindon muttered, “Oh, joy.”
Emilie, caught by surprise, snorted with amusement, then turned it into a cough.
The ship came to rest against the dock, and after a little delay, the passengers began to disembark. Emilie, Daniel, and the professor followed the others down the gangway to the dock. Professor Abindon took the lead, striding through the sleepy, milling crowd to the end of the dock.
The liveried driver stood at the lead horses’ heads, and Emilie expected him to step forward to greet them. But the coach door swung open and a tall figure stepped out. It was Lord Engal himself. He was Southern Menaen, with brown skin and dark eyes contrasting against his gray hair and beard, and despite being a noble, he was burly and strong, built like one of the shoremen unloading cargo.
He said, “Miss Emilie, Daniel, I’m glad your ship arrived on… Good God, you didn’t say she was coming.”
“I’m just as pleased to see you, Engal,” the professor said, her tone grim. “Now let’s get on with this. Where’s Marlende?”
“He’s at the airship dock,” Lord Engal said, and stepped warily back, holding the coach door open for the professor. Another coachman swung down from the box to take their bags and hand them up to be stowed on top.
Emilie climbed into the coach after Professor Abindon and sat next to her on the soft leather seat. She could tell the coach was nicer than any she had ever been in before, though it was hard to see the interior with only the light from the dockside to illuminate it. The inside walls were padded with dark, rich fabric, and it smelled of sandalwood.
Lord Engal climbed in after Daniel and tapped his cane on the roof to signal the coachman to go. He said, “What’s this about an aetheric disruption?”
Daniel drew breath to speak but the professor said first, “I prefer to wait until we meet with Marlende. I don’t want to have to go over it all twice.” Then she ruined it by adding, “If you don’t understand it, then he can explain it to you.”
It was so rude, Emilie had to bite her tongue. Lord Engal could be annoying, but all he had done was ask a simple question, even if it didn’t have a simple answer. It was a little easier to understand now why Miss Marlende hadn’t answered the professor’s wires.
Lord Engal sighed and said, “I see. Thank you for excusing my no doubt abysmal ignorance.”
Emilie spent most of the short trip looking out the window, watching the dark warehouses and shipping offices go by. She recognized the long-necked shape of the big steam crane, like a monster rising out of the mist, that she had passed when she had been looking for the Merry Bell’s slip. That helped her orient herself.
The coach turned up a broad street leading away from the port. Infrequent gas streetlamps lit the signs above doorways, and most of the buildings seemed to be small manufactories or ship chandlers. Then the coach turned off to stop at a large metal gate in a wall. A moment later, a man with a lantern swung the gate open, and they rolled forward into Dr Marlende’s airship yard.
From the coach window, all Emilie could see were a couple of metal-roofed sheds, lit by electric lamps mounted on tall posts. Dr Marlende had obviously had the yard fitted with all the latest scientific devices, including electric light.
Lord Engal pushed the door open and swung out before his servant could get off the box, and held it open as they climbed out. As Emilie stepped down, she saw what the electric lights were illuminating.
In the middle of the walled yard, towering over them, the giant silver shape of an airship hung about twenty feet above the ground. Its nose was securely held in a big cone-shaped stand, and lines and heavy cables anchored it to the ground. The wooden cabin, with the narrow metal walkway around the outside, was tucked up under the gray swell of the balloon. Emilie could tell immediately that this wasn’t the airship that they had returned in from the Hollow World; it showed no signs of damage, for one thing. For another, she was fairly certain it was much bigger, its cabin nearly twice as long and with at least two levels to it.
Then she spotted their airship, lying some distance past this one, its balloon partially deflated and the triangular supports that held the insides rigid showing through the fabric. Emilie knew that the airship’s balloon wasn’t just a big bag filled with gas, but a cover over lots of smaller bags, held in place with very light metal supports. Watching Lord Ivers’ airship burn had been very instructive in teaching her airship anatomy. The battered cabin sat beside it, no longer connected to the upper structure. Men in work clothes were climbing all over it, taking it apart and carrying the pieces into a larger metal shed.
Lord Engal strode off across the yard and Emilie and Daniel hurried after him. The professor followed as well, but at her own pace.
They reached the shed and Lord Engal flung open the wooden door and shouted, “Marlende, they’re here!”
Dr Marlende, wearing a long coat dotted with oil stains and heavy protective gloves, stood beside a table spread with plans. Turning toward them, he said, “Thank you, Lord Engal, but I assure you that there is nothing wrong with my hearing and shouting is not…” He froze for a moment. “Abindon. I didn’t realize–”
“That I was coming, yes, I know.” The professor’s voice was dry. “Is Vale here? I’d rather not go over this twice.”
Dr Marlende cleared his throat, regaining his composure. He was a tall, fair-skinned, weathered Northern Menaen man, with shaggy gray hair and a beard that was still somewhat out of control. “She’s dismantling the steering control column in the airship.”
“I’ll get her,” Emilie said, and bolted before anyone could argue.
She crossed the open yard to the airship and climbed the stepladder up to the cabin doorway. An electric light on a heavy cable hung from the ceiling, and the floor was covered with broken glass and more oil stains. Emilie picked her way across the floor to the open door into the cockpit.
She saw Miss Marlende’s boots first, as the rest of her was tucked under the control panel, working on the pillar that held up the steering mechanism. “Miss Marlende?”
“Emilie?” Miss Marlende pushed herself out from under the panel and sat up. “Father said you and Daniel were coming back tonight, that there was some emergency. Is everything all right?”
Emilie crouched on the floor so they were eye level. “Yes, we’re fine, but there was a scientific discovery, about an aetheric stream, and… Professor Abindon is here.”
Miss Marlende didn’t look as shocked as the others, but she frowned. “Abindon?” she demanded. “What is she doing here?”
“It was her discovery. She tried to send Dr Marlende some wires about it, but it was after he left on the expedition, when you and Kenar were trying to find a way to help him and all the others, and you didn’t get them.”
Miss Marlende pulled her heavy gloves off and pushed her hair out of her face. She normally wore it in a tight bun behind her head, but it had come loose and, from the dark spots on the blond strands, gotten into the oil. She looked frustrated and upset more than angry. “Damn it. I did get them, but I didn’t open them. I thought they were about… Oh, never mind. Was it terribly urgent?”
“Sort of. I don’t think it was at first, but it kept getting worse. I thought…” Emilie hesitated, then finished. “If she really thought it was that urgent, she could have come here herself to make someone listen to her.”
“Well, yes, that’s what a rational person would have done,” Miss Marlende said, then made a sharp gesture. “I shouldn’t judge her, I suppose. It’s a very complicated situation. And I’ve done my share of complicating it, so I can’t complain.” She caught the railing along the control board and pulled herself upright.
Emilie pushed to her feet. “Was she your teacher? I mean, your professor at university?”
“No. She’s… a relation,” Miss Marlende said, and stepped past Emilie out of the cockpit.
Emilie followed, thinking that one over. It certainly explained a lot, if the professor wasn’t just an irascible
colleague, but a relation. She knew how much trouble relations could be.
When they reached the shed, the table had been cleared of airship plans, and Professor Abindon’s drawings and notes were laid out in their place.
The professor looked up as they came in. Her expression was as closed and hard to read as Miss Marlende’s. She said, “Vale.”
Miss Marlende said, “Professor Abindon.”
The professor’s lips tightened, as if the greeting had been other than bland and polite. But she indicated the drawings. “I’ve been trying to bring this to your attention. I understand you were occupied.”
It was all very uncomfortable.
It was a relief when Lord Engal, already engrossed in the notes, said, “Dear God, Marlende. Is this what I think it is?”
“An aetheric disruption, obviously,” Dr Marlende said, passing a page of notes to Miss Marlende. “But what could be causing it?” He eyed the professor. “Your last observation was yesterday?”
The professor was watching Miss Marlende for her reaction. “Yes, before Daniel suggested we should come here. What do you think, Vale?”
There were lines in Miss Marlende’s brow, but this time they were from concentration. “We need a better aetheric scope.” She turned to Lord Engal. “Do you think you could get us into the Philosophical Society?”
“It’s after midnight,” Daniel said. “No one will be there to let us in. We could make an appointment in the morning…”
Dr Marlende scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I’m sure I could open the lock on the front entrance. Emilie, see if someone can find my small pocket toolcase…”
“Father…” Miss Marlende began. “Breaking into the building isn’t–”
“Commendable resolve but unnecessary.” Lord Engal tugged his pocketwatch out and checked the time. “I can send someone to get the director to meet us there and let us in. He enjoys noble patronage and late parties, so I doubt he will mind.”
The professor gave him a skeptical look. “Surely you don’t care if he minds? As long as the person inconvenienced isn’t you–”
“We all sacrifice in the name of Philosophy,” Lord Engal said, and strode off, calling for his servants.
Less than an hour later, Emilie was in the Marlendes’ coach, with Dr and Miss Marlende, following Lord Engal’s equipage down a wide gaslit street. The Marlendes’ coach was battered, the upholstery well-worn cloth, and the coachman was one of Dr Marlende’s airship mechanics.
Dr Marlende had one of Professor Abindon’s notebooks, holding it up to the window and trying to angle it so the intermittent gaslight fell on the pages. He said to Miss Marlende, “Even if you had opened her wires, there wasn’t anything you could have done about it except to observe the situation while it developed, an activity which she was already engaged in.”
Miss Marlende kept her gaze on the window. “That’s not an excuse.”
“It is an excuse,” Dr Marlende said mildly.
Emilie had her face almost plastered to the window on her side, trying to catch glimpses of the stone façades and pillared porticos of the buildings. She knew most of them were very fine houses, the family seats of various noble families. She had seen the houses of the wealthy gentry who lived near their village, and even gone to parties in some of them, but they were nothing compared to this. She couldn’t quite believe people actually lived in these houses, or how much money they must have. It seems such a waste, she thought. At least Lord Engal spent some of his money on experiments and expeditions and, apparently, suing newspapers on behalf of strangers.
Ahead, Lord Engal’s coach swung into the carriage circle in front of yet another imposing building, with columns two stories high fronting a wide portico with steps leading up to the entrance. Gas lamps on stands of twisted wrought iron lit the walk in front of it.
As they climbed out of the coaches, Emilie saw two men waiting by the carved wooden doors, one in Lord Engal’s livery and the other in a slightly disheveled suit, as if he had donned it hastily. The doors were carved with figures of old sailing ships and views of Meneport Harbor. Not what Emilie had been expecting for the Philosophical Society, but maybe the place had been purchased or donated, and not specifically built.
“Lord Engal,” the disheveled man began, “surely you realize the aetheric telescope can also be used in daylight–”
“Of course we realize that, Elathorn,” Lord Engal said. “But we need to look through the damn thing now. Be a good fellow and unlock the doors.”
Mr Elathorn sighed with weary resignation, took out a large key ring, and unlocked the heavy wooden door. It opened into a dark foyer, illumined only by what little light fell through the doorway.
Mr Elathorn stepped inside and Emilie followed with the others, bumping into Miss Marlende in the process. She could feel a tile floor under her shoes, and the walls were covered with more heavy carving, though she couldn’t tell what the subject was. Mr Elathorn unlocked the inner doors with a different key and pushed them open. Emilie peered into the darkness. She had the impression the doors had opened into a large hall; something in the faintly cool air seemed to suggest a large space, but she couldn’t see a thing.
She thought they might have to light lamps if the gas was turned off for the night, but Mr Elathorn turned to the wall of the foyer and unlocked a small cabinet set into it, fumbling in the dark. Lord Engal helpfully struck a match, holding it up so Elathorn could see.
“Thank you, my lord,” Elathorn muttered. The cabinet was full of small metal levers. Elathorn pushed two down and then pushed a switch.
Clicks and a buzz echoed through the space, then electric lights flickered into blazing life all through the hall. Emilie smiled in delight. This is more like it.
The grand entrance hall was huge, with a massive polished stone staircase at the far end. The walls were lined with exhibits, some in glass cases and some free-standing. Light gleamed off all sorts of engines and devices, with glass bulbs, brass and silver tubes, switches, levers, and dials. There were glass cases with maps, models of steamships and airships. The electric lights on the walls were in large bronze sconces, with milky glass shielding the glowing bulbs. There were also lights set directly into the walls, between where the wooden paneling ended and the plaster facing began.
Lord Engal said, “That’s all, Elathorn. Go home and get some sleep,” and he, Dr Marlende, and Professor Abindon headed for the stairs.
Mr Elathorn sighed again and said, “I’ll wait down here,” and turned to shut and lock the outer doors.
“Our apologies, Mr Elathorn, and thank you for coming out here so late,” Miss Marlende said, as she, Daniel, and Emilie hurried after the others.
Emilie craned her neck to see as many of the exhibits as she could as they crossed the hall. Daniel noticed and said, “We’ll have to come back on a day when it’s open for viewing.”
“Emilie should have more than enough chances to see it all,” Miss Marlende said. “We’ll be planning a whole lecture series on the expedition.” She nodded toward the doors in the wall past the stairs. “The main assembly hall is there, and there are smaller meeting rooms and lecture halls on the upper floors. This was a shipping magnate’s mansion when it was first built. He bequeathed it to the Society more than fifty years ago, and it’s been modified a great deal since then.”
They started up the stairs, and continued up and up. On the third floor, they turned off through a wide hallway lined with more doors, where they had to stop along the way and look for more switches to turn on the electric lights. After several twists and turns, they went through a door into another much smaller and more utilitarian stairwell.
The lights were less frequent here, the walls plain plaster and the wooden treads of the stairs not nearly as finely grained; this must have been a stair to the servants’ quarters, back when the house had been a wealthy man’s home.
They reached a door at the top of the stairs, and Lord Engal selected another key off the ring to
unlock it. Emilie followed the others in, staring as the electric lights popped into life. They were in a large square turret, possibly toward the back of the big house, though when they had been out on the street, Emilie had been too busy looking at the front entrance to glance up.
In the middle of the room was an aetheric scope that made the professor’s look like a toy or a small-scale model. The whole was mounted on a large circular platform, and the scope itself was as big as a cannon. It pointed up toward the peaked roof, which had been replaced by glass panels. Several silver plates stood out from the base of the scope at various angles, designed to show patterns in aether.
The others immediately closed in around the telescope, Dr Marlende and the professor in the lead. Emilie found a chair near the wall and sat down. There wasn’t anything she could do to help with this part, and she was starting to realize just how tired she was. She wished she had been able to sleep more on the boat.
After a short flurry of adjustments with everyone but Emilie weighing in with a conflicting opinion, the telescope was positioned and the aetheric plates moved in front of the lens. Dr Marlende peered through the eyepiece. “Yes, there we are. I–” He stopped abruptly.
Emilie found herself holding her breath. Everyone waited in silence, though Daniel stirred uneasily, Lord Engal’s left eyelid started to twitch, and Miss Marlende’s grip on the platform’s railing made her knuckles go white. Finally, Professor Abindon said, “For God’s sake, Marlende, what do you see?”
Dr Marlende straightened up, his expression deeply worried. Emilie felt a sinking sensation. She hadn’t seen him look this worried when they were trying to escape to the airship while being shot at by angry merpeople. He ignored Lord Engal’s impatient throat-clearing noise and gestured Professor Abindon forward. He said, “I’d rather not say until I get another opinion.”
Frowning, the professor stepped up and bent down to the eyepiece. “Another opinion on what? I–”