Corroded

“Naturally.”

“That’s the blow-off from the fans.” She turned her back, as if concerned with my modesty. “There’s four sets below the grounds, which keeps the fog at bay.”

Ah ha. One question, at long last answered.

“Why have I never felt a draft?” I asked, quickly dressing while I had the opportunity. Bless Maddie Ruth for her quick thinking. The belt holding all my various gear was still with the rest of my clothing, and my goggles rolled up within. “The engines should cause a wind.”

“They’re precisely designed,” the girl said, studying the scars in her gloves. “What drafts they create are offset by the layout in which they’re placed. If you’re paying right close attention, you can feel a bit of it at certain places, but it’s mild. Most won’t even know.”

I certainly hadn’t. So much for the Veil’s so-called magic. Not at all to my surprise, the mystery turned out to be machine. I found myself grinning, a bit of smug satisfaction. “What fuels the machines?”

“Aether, like the ones in sky ships but different. We’ve got to keep the fires stoked in order to fuel the extraction devices, but then that powers the connectors. The ratio is much lower than full steam needs. Would you like to see?” Maddie Ruth turned as I finished lacing the corset. I tied it off behind me with the skill of long practice. I’d designed it to be easy to tie by one’s self, easy to lace, and not nearly as tight as a true corset should be.

I fastened the collared throat at the nape of my neck, pulling my hair over my shoulder to do so. The length of it had not done well in the interim. Frizzy without the care usually afforded it, I imagined the appearance of it might have sent Fanny into a fit of the vapors.

My smile faded as I thought once more of my family.

How much I missed the life I thought I had hated so much. How things could have been different.

I could have maintained my Wednesday debates with Teddy, truly the best friend a girl could ever wish for. How I missed matching wits and intellect with a man who had not seen me as a dowry or a simpering female, but a peer of scientific thought and entertaining discussion.

How I missed the way Booth would walk down my halls, every step interspersed with the thunk of his silver prosthetic.

If only my chosen husband—a man whose crooked smile had been so difficult to produce, but now I thought of as so dear—had survived our wedding day.

Had I remained, there was no promise of happiness. The marchioness, my mother-in-law of only some days, had sworn to imprison me in my own home, strip me of my loving staff, afford me no freedoms—for a widow could claim none, and all that I owned belonged now to my Lord Compton’s father. Perhaps I deserved such punishment.

No. Such thoughts were useless. I married a good man for the reason of security and care of my family, chose to leave the world below the drift behind, and still the sweet tooth took him away in blood and malice.

Had I stayed above, mourned as I should have, I would have regretted the inability to achieve that which I had all but forgotten this past day.

Revenge.

Guilt transformed to a savage anger so sharp, I hunched my shoulders around it. I pressed one hand against my breastbone, where the ache was all the more acute.

“Miss?”

I looked up, the dull strands of my hair tumbling over my shoulder, to find Maddie Ruth watching me expectantly. Worried, I think.

I forced myself to stand straight. What had she asked me? “Ah,” I said, as if waking from a dream. “The machines. I would like to see them, but not this moment.” I took a steadying breath. “Maddie Ruth, I require help.”

Her eyes brightened. “Help?”

“Two important matters,” I told her. I busied my fingers with my hair, ignoring the gray smudges it left behind as I plaited the length of it. It was thick, unruly, and took great effort to tame as I spoke. “The Veil’s servants have a cameo that belongs to me. It is roughly palm-sized, and bears—”

“Your face?” Maddie Ruth backed out of the curtains. “Or someone that looks right enough like you that it could be an easy mistake, right?” The curtain was still dancing on its cord when she returned, her smile ear to ear. Gold winked at me as she proffered the all-too-familiar disc.

I stared, my fingers still and cramping in the midst of the weave I made of the tangle. “I... What? How?”

“Zylphia brought it,” she said.

Oh, no. No, that foolish girl. Why would she steal from the Veil for me?

Unless she understood that such a thing might lead to the Veil’s demands being met? I had spoken of that cameo, but not whose face was upon it. Did she see the resemblance and guess the rest?

No. I shook my head, clearing the uncertainties. It was long past time I ceased to worry about the others around me. There was work to be done—and perhaps it was the remnants of the tar speaking, but I was eager to see my collection over with.

The sweet tooth had been allowed to wander free for far too long.

“Maddie Ruth!” called the rough masculine voice. “The fires are high and set to last another hour or so.”

“Good,” the girl called back. I waited in silence. “Go for a smoke, if you like.”

“Aye,” he grunted, and then there was nothing but the dull rush of sound; that machinery that was similar to the noise an aether engine made, but larger. Fuller.

These must be some machines.

“Be careful with that cameo,” I advised, finishing my plait with more speed than care. “Do you see a small hinge upon it?”

She squinted, yet I saw no recognition on her face. “I need a glass,” she said after a moment, and once more left the nook.

This time, I followed.

I would never have imagined that such a place would exist beneath the ground of the Menagerie. It was a large enough room, but full half was taken by heavy, overlarge brass and steel fittings whose giant tubes vanished into the wall they rested against. That thrum filled the air, almost a palpable vibration I felt more in my teeth and bones than against my skin.

The rest was brick and mortar, windowless and lit by hanging lamps whose oil gleamed golden through glass bulbs. An overlarge work desk took up one space, while shelves lined the far wall and tools of various origin had been left where they had been laid down.

I saw bits of cast off metal, all sorts from tarnished brass to copper coated with verdigris stains and bits of iron salvaged from what I could only assume were other machines. Strung from the girders in the ceiling, a colorful kite swung gently in a faint breeze.

It was a working man’s paradise.

Or, I realized as I followed Maddie Ruth to the large table, a working woman’s.

My respect for the girl rose markedly.

She hunched over the cameo, turning it beneath a magnifying glass while I marveled at her space. “Ah!” An exclamation of success. “I see it. There’s tiny cogs here. It opens, then?”

“A part opens,” I corrected, forcing my attention fully to the matter at hand. There would be time enough to ask of the various implements I saw around us later. “Watch, but lean very much away.”

She did as I suggested, leaving the cameo upon her gloved palm and angling far as she could from it. I reached around her, found the small indent I searched for, and depressed it. The mechanism engaged, those minute cogs spinning slowly and with terrible purpose. All at once, a bit opened at the top, and there was a faint hiss almost lost beneath the machines.

My insides seized, my lungs frozen in remembered apprehension.

To my relief, nothing came from the opening. No shimmering pink cloud, as had been ejected the last time I’d come face to miniature face with the wretched device.

I breathed easier, but still with some care. “That,” I said, gesturing, “once held an alchemical serum with