Chapter Thirty-Six: Charm
Nov. 23rd, 2008 03:59 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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originalsam_backupFirst posted 11.23.08; 4000 words.
"What did they want to talk to you about?" Jack asked Graveworthy, when they were bound back towards Canberra on the train. The older man leaned back and looked out the window, thoughtful.
"They've extended a tentative invitation to return, to meet more of their people," he answered. "They need to ask permission first."
"Lot of permission being asked," Clare said.
"Well, that's the way these things work. In the meantime, there's plenty I can attend to in Canberra. I think the Wiradjuri know more than they're telling, but I don't suspect them of having ulterior motives. I can't think what any would be, at any rate."
"How long do you suppose it will all take?" Jack asked.
"why? Eager to be home?"
Jack laughed. "Not likely. I'm going to find a research library and do some studying, when I can."
"When you can...?" Graveworthy prompted.
"Well, you'll need me for a lot of this, huh?" Jack asked. "The smart young man building the railroad?"
"I suppose so, though at this point it's all trophy -- for show, you understand. Tomorrow I'm meeting with some bank officers and some of Bell's parliamentary crowd to work on opening the interior. We had discussed incorporation but that's rather more public than I like. I think I shall suggest acting as a land agent for all interested parties. I should really set up an office."
"Mrs. Bell seemed to think I should look into getting a house in Canberra," Clare said.
"It isn't a bad idea, but I doubt we have the money. Although we could take out a line of credit. I'll ask Bell about it."
"Did you mean what you said about the banks failing?" Jack asked.
"I didn't think you were paying attention."
"Well, I was."
"It certainly could happen. It needs a delicate touch. And there's no point in simply crushing Australia's banks unless there's something to follow. What a young country it is," Graveworthy said, still staring out the window. "Even though the land is very old. As a political body, it's hardly out of childhood, and as usual it is being sulky and stroppy."
"I feel that I've just been dug at," Jack said to Clare.
"I think you know better." Graveworthy smiled for a moment, but only a moment, before returning to the passing scrubland. "One of the men at the party was telling me he's coined a term for the settlement of Australia -- Manifest Destiny."
"Sounds ominous," Clare said.
"It is. His idea is that the Tribals are a civilsation at the end of their time, like the imperial Romans or -- well, he said, the Jews, but then it seems as though there were likely very few Jews in Australia to start with, so perhaps his perception is skewed. At any rate, he believes it is the destiny of the immigrant white population to conquer and revitalise Australia, which of course means that one can do as one likes to the Tribals."
Jack stared at him in horror. "As one likes?"
"Reservations, perhaps exportation to Tasmania. I don't believe these men are bloodthirsty enough to kill them all in cold blood, but pushing the Res out further and stopping supply trains and income would amount to the same thing. These men believe Australia's vast barrens are a sign of bad custody by the Tribals."
"It isn't as though Europeans haven't been here for generations," Clare said angrily.
"And I know that, Clare, I'm not defending this idea. For a start, it's unscientific; bad husbandry isn't responsible for the Sahara, either. But it has a shine to it. Manifest Destiny. Man bestriding Australia like a conqueror. Stripping the hidden riches from her, planting the barrens, irrigating a continent. It's bewitching, if you don't look at it too closely."
"Or think Tribals are people," Jack added. He felt Clare squeeze his hand.
"At least we know the airship is safe," Graveworthy said thoughtfully. "If all this goes south, we may need to leave in a hurry."
"How far south do you think it might go?" Clare asked.
"Well, there are any number of things that can go wrong. Really the least of the problems is if we're caught; I'm uncertain whether we'd be charged with fraud or treason, perhaps both. If something goes wrong in the execution, Australia really will be plunged into chaos and while I've never been one to turn and run, I have the three of you to consider."
"We're not going to turn and run either," Jack pointed out.
"You are in my care, Jack. If I tell you to turn and run, you will turn and run," Graveworthy replied. "A war zone fuelled by fear and anger is no place for any of you. Which reminds me -- if I am arrested or imprisoned, you are to make for the airship as fast as possible. Whatever happens, the crown must know what Australia is up to -- it's not a matter for self-sacrifice, it's a matter of the Empire's safety. Purva will know this too, and I trust that if you decide to be stupid or heroic she will knock you cold and drag you behind her, Clare."
"Oh, I'm sure she'd carry her at least," Jack said. Clare glanced at him and burst out laughing. "And why do you think I won't be stupid and heroic?"
"Because you'll follow Purva, and Purva is no fool," Graveworthy answered.
Jack didn't see much of him in the following days, and when he did it was usually in the company of Bell and his kind. Graveworthy had much to do and the silent, invisible presence of the warships in the coastal shipyards gave urgency to his days. Once in a while they ate a meal together, but Graveworthy was usually up before Jack woke and when he did manage to dine with them he seemed tired. The effort of being cheerful land speculator Eric Grimes, Jack supposed.
The day after their visit to the Res, Jack invited Clare and Purva to come back to the Archive building with him, and only realised his mistake when they arrived; he'd only ever seen men in the map room, and they received odd looks as John Parsons climbed out of the cab with his young bride and his female servant following him. He stopped and turned to Clare, who was glancing around, obviously noticing the stares as well.
"Side door?" Purva asked politely.
"Definitely," Jack answered. William Libris had welcomed them, hadn't said a word about the Res, and had brought maps and books into the clerks' common room where apparently nobody but Tribal clerks ever went. Clare seemed to like him, which pleased Jack. There was no doubting that Clare as a woman and Purva as a Tribal had it much harder than he and Graveworthy did. It startled him to even think about Australia this way -- before all he'd seen really were the machines, the beautiful shining machines that still tempted him but now were dulled slightly by the shine of people all around.
Especially Purva.
At the end of that day, one of the clerks brought in a battered tea service and Jack offered to pour and pass. While he was preparing Purva's, William offered him a bit of paper.
"What's this?" he asked, passing the cup to Purva with one hand and accepting the paper with the other. "Something from the archive?"
"I thought you would appreciate it," William replied, as Jack studied it interestedly.
It was a handbill for some kind of exhibition being held at a park in Canberra. He recognised the park's name distantly, as a tourist in the city, and then forgot completely about Canberra's confusing geography when he read the text beneath the announcement.
"Aerial conquest?" he asked William, looking up.
"That's right. You aren't the only one who knows how to fly, you know," William said with a grin.
"But how -- why aren't -- "
"It's considered a hobby. It costs too much to be practical and it's much too dangerous for reasonable travel."
"This is two days from now!"
William nodded solemnly. "But they'll be preparing for it tomorrow. All day, examining engines, making test flights..."
"Really? Do they let people watch?"
"I think they'd welcome a young engineer keen on the latest developments," William said. "Take it with you. And give my regards to Mr. Graveworthy when you see him."
That night Graveworthy smiled tiredly when Jack passed on his greetings, warned him about being too talkative with anyone who might know the Bells or the engine companies in Canberra, and was called away from the meal when a hotel attendant told him that a pair of men from United Territories Bank were looking for him. Clare looked worried as she watched him leave.
"I know he knows what he's doing," she said, "but it worries me."
"He'll be fine," Jack replied. "Honestly, Clare."
She glanced back at him and nodded, and Jack felt a jolt of odd recognition pass through him.
Ever since the night of Bell's dinner, he'd felt an odd awareness, a sense that the people around him every day were more real than before, that they mattered. Somehow their former inscrutability had evaporated, and he found he understood things he hadn't before.
He had rather thought William Libris was fond of Clare, as little as he knew of her, but now he realised that Clare's feelings on romance were much, much more complicated.
He kept her close to him in the next few days, taking her with him to the "aerobatics" show and watching her out of the corner of his eye even as he introduced himself to pilots, studied the engines, and marveled at the canvas-and-wood contraptions with their broad graceful double-wings.
It was amazing, actually. They'd cracked Leonardo da Vinci's puzzle, they'd built things that would fly. Not just float along, like his airship. And yet at the same time it all seemed very distant from him, from the boy he'd been at Harvard. In Boston, the news that a Da Vinci Engine had been built would have put him over the moon, but he'd built his own machine that he almost preferred and he'd seen so many amazing things in this country...
Or perhaps it was that he had seen terrible things here, too, and he couldn't be as concerned with whether a man could fly in one of those things when he remembered the Res and the way Purva had been treated since they'd arrived.
Two days after the airshow, Jack was sitting at lunch in the hotel's restaurant and idly drawing "aeroplanes" with a pen and a bit of stationery when he saw Graveworthy duck through the door, spot them, and all but ambush them as he sat down. He looked triumphant and smug.
"Land sales are opening for the interior," he said, by way of greeting. Clare and Jack exchanged a look. "Two days from now the land office in Canberra will begin selling parcels northwest of Canberra and all along the route to the west. It's all theoretical, as they haven't sent surveyors out yet, but they've got a great big map to scale and they'll be charting it out shortly."
"So...that's good, yes?" Jack asked uncertainly.
"It's fantastic. They're already transferring money into my account. Almost every wealthy man in Canberra and a few in Melbourne and Sydney have taken out loans with the banks. Huge loans. The money's going into my accounts, and the day after tomorrow I'll take ten percent of it down to the land office and put in a down payment. Once the surveying's begun, I'm supposed to start transferring money to the land office in chunks, with a percentage profit held back for myself as the organising agent."
"Then what?" Clare asked. Graveworthy held up a hand as a waiter approached, ordered a steak and a bottle of beer, and waited until he'd left before continuing.
"Not here," he said softly, leaning over the table. "Too many ears around. I need to speak with Libris tonight, find out what he's been up to. I'd like to see the Res again tomorrow if we can. At any rate, there's also a lot of investment going into mining companies. Right now, we celebrate. Well. Eric Grimes and the Parsons family celebrate. That's what they expect."
"Suits me," Jack said.
"Would you like to go dancing tonight? Fancy dinner, good music?" Graveworthy asked. "Seems fitting. We're celebrating too, though there's much work to be done."
Jack glanced at Clare, who was watching Graveworthy with a mixture of amusement and concern.
"Yes," he said. "Clare?"
"Oh -- yes," Clare agreed.
***
Ellis felt easier now that he had a plan in place, a decisive move to block the government, at least temporarily, from starting a war with the rest of the world. No warships would leave port if the banks of Australia had failed. More than that, it was a bargaining chip: he wouldn't actually have to destroy the country's economy if he didn't want to. The threat was enough, and Bell and his ilk, as odious as they were, would realise it.
He allowed himself to relax enough, that evening, to enjoy the food at the restaurant (one of Bell's recommendations) and the dancing after, at a little music hall next door. He'd been to see William Libris, who assured him that the Tribals would welcome him back the following day and that they had heartening information for him. Jack seemed to be thriving, Clare seemed worried but confident, and Purva was annoyed by her new role but not evidently miserable. Clearly she understood the temporary nature of her servitude.
He thought about it as he watched Jack and Clare bickering about whether Jack had to dance with her. Clare seemed to like dancing, but Jack -- brilliant young Jack who could do anything if he had a spanner in his hand -- was not exactly the most graceful partner.
"Charity," he said, pushing away from the wall he'd been leaning on. "Is John refusing to dance?"
"It's just I don't want to knock anyone over," Jack protested.
"I'm sure you won't knock over more than two or three," Clare said, a teasing light in her eyes. "Or would you rather be taking one of the electric lamps apart?"
"You mock me now -- " Jack began, but Ellis laid a hand on Clare's shoulder, and he shut his mouth.
"Come dance with me, then," he said, and Clare glanced up at him. "I promise I'm more graceful than John."
"All right -- just to annoy him," she agreed, and let him draw her out into the crowded clear space where people were waltzing slowly.
"I didn't think you were one for dancing," she said, following his movements just a little stiffly.
"Oh yes. Mark of a gentleman, some people say," he answered. "Besides, it's charming, and I must be as charming as I possibly can, as often as I can."
"That must be tiring."
He laughed. "I enjoy it in the natural course of things, you must know that by now."
"You like it when people like you."
"Don't you?" he asked, not bothering to deny it. "Besides, I have a natural gift for it."
"Ha!"
"The fact that you didn't like me is no indication of the reactions of others. Besides, I wasn't trying to charm you."
"Oh no?" Clare asked, grinning.
"Not in the least. I was trying to challenge you. The young respond better to that. They mistrust charm; it seems too much like condescention."
"Well, I think I have good reason now to distrust charm the rest of my life," Clare replied.
"There's something in that, but I wouldn't make it an ironclad rule. Sometimes," he said, deftly avoiding one of the other dancers by shifting her sideways, one hand on her hip, "people really just want you to like them."
"You have a way of turning my words back on me that is just now beginning to try my patience," she said.
"Only just now? That's heartening, really, all things considered. On the other hand, I don't count under my breath while dancing."
Clare glanced at Jack, who was watching the dancing idly. He didn't look unhappy, but he did look...solitary.
"Do you think he wishes Purva were here?" she whispered.
"I think he wishes he were someplace where she could be," he answered. "Even if she were here, all she could do would be to fetch him a drink."
"I'm surprised she hasn't quit us already."
"She and I made a deal. Which I intend to enhance suitably, when the time and place are right."
"Oh?" Clare asked, looking intrigued.
"I appreciate her on a professional level, as well as considering her a friend, by now. Whatever happens, I'm bound to take her to Barataria; it ought to be a holiday after all this."
"I've never been."
"Neither have I, but I'm told the citizens are friendly, and they make very good drinks. And then, when our business there is completed, I intend to offer her a job."
"Really? As what?"
"Oh, whatever she pleases; we have no end of uses for clever youngsters. If nothing else, she's bound to live a very informative life."
"Would you offer me a job, if I asked?"
He considered it as he studied her face.
"I would advise you not to ask. An adventure when you're young is well and good, but this is dangerous work and not always for those with families to care about them. You have godparents missing you, and may soon have more ties than that."
"You mean if I find my parents here."
"Have you written to Melbourne yet?"
"No," she said, and looked away.
"Why not?"
"I'm afraid to," she admitted.
"Afraid to? Why on earth? Are you frightened they won't want to see you?"
"I have my reasons," she said, a little more sharply than he would have expected. After a moment, she added, "Would you offer Jack a job?"
"Good lord no. He's almost useless in my line of work. Besides, his future lies along a very different course from mine. My business is the human interior; his business is the great wide world. But I will tell you this -- I intend to keep him as a friend as long as I can. And you, as well."
"A friend?" she asked, as the music stopped. He let her go and bowed, giving her what he hoped was a paternal-seeming smile.
"Indeed. I have many acquaintances, but I am short of people who understand me and my work properly. When I find them, I keep them close. So you will have to get used to me, I'm afraid."
"What a chore," she replied, offering him her arm so that he could escort her back to Jack. "By the way -- as irritating and coldblooded as you are, I wouldn't leave you alone if you asked me to. So you'll have to get used to me, too."
He searched for a reply to that, something lighthearted and charming and possibly irritating, but before he could find his words she'd rejoined Jack and was asking him politely if he could please, papa, fetch her something to drink.
Jack, just behind her, gave him a wink over her head. Ellis felt that perhaps he'd missed something important. He'd have to ask Jack about it later.
Good lord, he was going to Jack for social explanations. The world was indeed stood on its head.
***
The next morning William Libris appeared on their doorstep, carrying a bundle of books that he pointedly, in the hallway, told Ellis he'd asked for. Ellis let him in without comment and offered him tea as Jack emerged from the bath.
"Two trips to the Res so close together might inspire suspicion," William said, nodding a greeting at Jack. "I've made alternate arrangements. An automobile will meet you in half an hour and take you to your transportation."
Ellis raised an eyebrow.
"I think you'll find it enjoyable," William added. "You'll be met by friendly people on the Res. Miss de la Fitte and I will join you in a few hours -- we're traveling the old-fashioned way."
"Are you losing wages at the Archives because of this?" Jack asked, surprising Ellis.
"I've told them I have a sick relative."
"But you're losing pay?" Jack repeated.
"All in the service," William said smoothly.
"We'll make sure you're paid for your time," Ellis said, which made Jack smile.
He smiled even more broadly when the three of them disembarked in a field outside of Canberra, an hour later, and he saw what their transportation was to be.
"Really?" he asked, turning to the driver. The man gestured at a figure climbing out of one of the two aeroplanes on the field. A Tribal woman, Ellis noted, with a leather cap on her head and a pair of goggles not unlike the ones they'd used in high winds on the airship.
"Good morning," she said cheerily. "Three, going up?"
"Going up?" Jack repeated, eyes wide.
"That's right. Come on; boss won't miss them today, he's away on business. Ma'am, you and your husband with me? Sir, Gerald will take you in his craft."
Ellis actually did hear Jack whoop with joy as the fragile, beautiful aeroplane left the ground, but he only remembered that later; his own craft was rolling along the bumpy track, engine incredibly loud in his ears, and he was busy worrying for his life.
Then with a jolt and a sinking-stomach feeling they were airborne. The bouncing and bumping ended abruptly, and they were airborne once more.
"HOW DID YOU LEARN TO FLY THIS?" he asked the Tribal man seated in front of him.
"EH WHAT?" the man called back.
"THIS!" Ellis shouted. "HOW DID YOU LEARN TO FLY IT?"
"BOSS CAN'T!" the man informed him. "LIKES TO FLY BUT VERY STUPID ABOUT IT. I TAKE HIM UP WHEN HE WANTS TO GO."
"HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU DONE THIS?"
"AT LEAST A DOZEN! IF YOU DON'T COUNT THE CRASH!"
Ellis wanted to inform the man that he very much wanted to count the crash, because he was hoping odds were in his favour of not encountering another one, but just then the aeroplane banked, following the trail of the other one, and Ellis saw how fast the ground beneath them was moving. Much, much faster than the airship.
He decided, instead of talking, he would slouch down in his seat and pray to whatever gods inhabited this country that he would make it to the Res in one piece.
It was a harrowing flight, much more so than the time he'd spent on the airship, but once the world stopped tilting quite so much and the plane leveled off he could at least breathe easily. And he had to admit it was much, much faster; barely an hour had passed, by his watch (consulted every few minutes) before the world was tilting in the other direction, and he had to hold on for dear life as the plane began to drop. In front of him, either Jack or Clare had turned to wave at him. He remembered being young and thinking that he was immortal and unbreakable, but even in his youth he wouldn't have risked flailing an arm outside of something moving through the air like this.
There was an almighty thump, a grinding and squealing noise, a rattling that felt like it would shake his teeth loose, and finally the dizzy sensation of being on firm ground again.
The pilot, Gerald, turned around to smile at him. "Here you are, sir."
"Thank god," he answered. Gerald laughed.
"Mind the -- " he stopped as Ellis hoisted himself out of the seat and nearly tumbled head-over-heels as he misjudged the distance between the stationary aeroplane and the ground, " -- drop."
Nearby, Clare was sitting on the ground, breathing deeply, and Jack was leaning over the double-seat in the rear of the aeroplane, no doubt asking a million questions about the flight they'd just had. After a minute Jack too jumped over the side, pulled Clare up with a laugh, and turned to thank the pilot.
"Mr. Graveworthy?" a voice said, and Ellis turned.
He could see people trooping across the dusty field towards them, King Billy and Clements and a few others. In front of him, however, was a tall dark-skinned woman with her hair pulled severely back into braids and one of the antiquated rifles slung over her back.
"That's me," he said. "Sorry, just getting my bearings."
"Understandable," she replied. "William arranged for us to meet you here."
"And you are...?" he asked.
"My name is Saturday," she said. "I'm a doctor. Come along; you have only a day, and I have much to show you."
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Revelations
"What did they want to talk to you about?" Jack asked Graveworthy, when they were bound back towards Canberra on the train. The older man leaned back and looked out the window, thoughtful.
"They've extended a tentative invitation to return, to meet more of their people," he answered. "They need to ask permission first."
"Lot of permission being asked," Clare said.
"Well, that's the way these things work. In the meantime, there's plenty I can attend to in Canberra. I think the Wiradjuri know more than they're telling, but I don't suspect them of having ulterior motives. I can't think what any would be, at any rate."
"How long do you suppose it will all take?" Jack asked.
"why? Eager to be home?"
Jack laughed. "Not likely. I'm going to find a research library and do some studying, when I can."
"When you can...?" Graveworthy prompted.
"Well, you'll need me for a lot of this, huh?" Jack asked. "The smart young man building the railroad?"
"I suppose so, though at this point it's all trophy -- for show, you understand. Tomorrow I'm meeting with some bank officers and some of Bell's parliamentary crowd to work on opening the interior. We had discussed incorporation but that's rather more public than I like. I think I shall suggest acting as a land agent for all interested parties. I should really set up an office."
"Mrs. Bell seemed to think I should look into getting a house in Canberra," Clare said.
"It isn't a bad idea, but I doubt we have the money. Although we could take out a line of credit. I'll ask Bell about it."
"Did you mean what you said about the banks failing?" Jack asked.
"I didn't think you were paying attention."
"Well, I was."
"It certainly could happen. It needs a delicate touch. And there's no point in simply crushing Australia's banks unless there's something to follow. What a young country it is," Graveworthy said, still staring out the window. "Even though the land is very old. As a political body, it's hardly out of childhood, and as usual it is being sulky and stroppy."
"I feel that I've just been dug at," Jack said to Clare.
"I think you know better." Graveworthy smiled for a moment, but only a moment, before returning to the passing scrubland. "One of the men at the party was telling me he's coined a term for the settlement of Australia -- Manifest Destiny."
"Sounds ominous," Clare said.
"It is. His idea is that the Tribals are a civilsation at the end of their time, like the imperial Romans or -- well, he said, the Jews, but then it seems as though there were likely very few Jews in Australia to start with, so perhaps his perception is skewed. At any rate, he believes it is the destiny of the immigrant white population to conquer and revitalise Australia, which of course means that one can do as one likes to the Tribals."
Jack stared at him in horror. "As one likes?"
"Reservations, perhaps exportation to Tasmania. I don't believe these men are bloodthirsty enough to kill them all in cold blood, but pushing the Res out further and stopping supply trains and income would amount to the same thing. These men believe Australia's vast barrens are a sign of bad custody by the Tribals."
"It isn't as though Europeans haven't been here for generations," Clare said angrily.
"And I know that, Clare, I'm not defending this idea. For a start, it's unscientific; bad husbandry isn't responsible for the Sahara, either. But it has a shine to it. Manifest Destiny. Man bestriding Australia like a conqueror. Stripping the hidden riches from her, planting the barrens, irrigating a continent. It's bewitching, if you don't look at it too closely."
"Or think Tribals are people," Jack added. He felt Clare squeeze his hand.
"At least we know the airship is safe," Graveworthy said thoughtfully. "If all this goes south, we may need to leave in a hurry."
"How far south do you think it might go?" Clare asked.
"Well, there are any number of things that can go wrong. Really the least of the problems is if we're caught; I'm uncertain whether we'd be charged with fraud or treason, perhaps both. If something goes wrong in the execution, Australia really will be plunged into chaos and while I've never been one to turn and run, I have the three of you to consider."
"We're not going to turn and run either," Jack pointed out.
"You are in my care, Jack. If I tell you to turn and run, you will turn and run," Graveworthy replied. "A war zone fuelled by fear and anger is no place for any of you. Which reminds me -- if I am arrested or imprisoned, you are to make for the airship as fast as possible. Whatever happens, the crown must know what Australia is up to -- it's not a matter for self-sacrifice, it's a matter of the Empire's safety. Purva will know this too, and I trust that if you decide to be stupid or heroic she will knock you cold and drag you behind her, Clare."
"Oh, I'm sure she'd carry her at least," Jack said. Clare glanced at him and burst out laughing. "And why do you think I won't be stupid and heroic?"
"Because you'll follow Purva, and Purva is no fool," Graveworthy answered.
Jack didn't see much of him in the following days, and when he did it was usually in the company of Bell and his kind. Graveworthy had much to do and the silent, invisible presence of the warships in the coastal shipyards gave urgency to his days. Once in a while they ate a meal together, but Graveworthy was usually up before Jack woke and when he did manage to dine with them he seemed tired. The effort of being cheerful land speculator Eric Grimes, Jack supposed.
The day after their visit to the Res, Jack invited Clare and Purva to come back to the Archive building with him, and only realised his mistake when they arrived; he'd only ever seen men in the map room, and they received odd looks as John Parsons climbed out of the cab with his young bride and his female servant following him. He stopped and turned to Clare, who was glancing around, obviously noticing the stares as well.
"Side door?" Purva asked politely.
"Definitely," Jack answered. William Libris had welcomed them, hadn't said a word about the Res, and had brought maps and books into the clerks' common room where apparently nobody but Tribal clerks ever went. Clare seemed to like him, which pleased Jack. There was no doubting that Clare as a woman and Purva as a Tribal had it much harder than he and Graveworthy did. It startled him to even think about Australia this way -- before all he'd seen really were the machines, the beautiful shining machines that still tempted him but now were dulled slightly by the shine of people all around.
Especially Purva.
At the end of that day, one of the clerks brought in a battered tea service and Jack offered to pour and pass. While he was preparing Purva's, William offered him a bit of paper.
"What's this?" he asked, passing the cup to Purva with one hand and accepting the paper with the other. "Something from the archive?"
"I thought you would appreciate it," William replied, as Jack studied it interestedly.
It was a handbill for some kind of exhibition being held at a park in Canberra. He recognised the park's name distantly, as a tourist in the city, and then forgot completely about Canberra's confusing geography when he read the text beneath the announcement.
"Aerial conquest?" he asked William, looking up.
"That's right. You aren't the only one who knows how to fly, you know," William said with a grin.
"But how -- why aren't -- "
"It's considered a hobby. It costs too much to be practical and it's much too dangerous for reasonable travel."
"This is two days from now!"
William nodded solemnly. "But they'll be preparing for it tomorrow. All day, examining engines, making test flights..."
"Really? Do they let people watch?"
"I think they'd welcome a young engineer keen on the latest developments," William said. "Take it with you. And give my regards to Mr. Graveworthy when you see him."
That night Graveworthy smiled tiredly when Jack passed on his greetings, warned him about being too talkative with anyone who might know the Bells or the engine companies in Canberra, and was called away from the meal when a hotel attendant told him that a pair of men from United Territories Bank were looking for him. Clare looked worried as she watched him leave.
"I know he knows what he's doing," she said, "but it worries me."
"He'll be fine," Jack replied. "Honestly, Clare."
She glanced back at him and nodded, and Jack felt a jolt of odd recognition pass through him.
Ever since the night of Bell's dinner, he'd felt an odd awareness, a sense that the people around him every day were more real than before, that they mattered. Somehow their former inscrutability had evaporated, and he found he understood things he hadn't before.
He had rather thought William Libris was fond of Clare, as little as he knew of her, but now he realised that Clare's feelings on romance were much, much more complicated.
He kept her close to him in the next few days, taking her with him to the "aerobatics" show and watching her out of the corner of his eye even as he introduced himself to pilots, studied the engines, and marveled at the canvas-and-wood contraptions with their broad graceful double-wings.
It was amazing, actually. They'd cracked Leonardo da Vinci's puzzle, they'd built things that would fly. Not just float along, like his airship. And yet at the same time it all seemed very distant from him, from the boy he'd been at Harvard. In Boston, the news that a Da Vinci Engine had been built would have put him over the moon, but he'd built his own machine that he almost preferred and he'd seen so many amazing things in this country...
Or perhaps it was that he had seen terrible things here, too, and he couldn't be as concerned with whether a man could fly in one of those things when he remembered the Res and the way Purva had been treated since they'd arrived.
Two days after the airshow, Jack was sitting at lunch in the hotel's restaurant and idly drawing "aeroplanes" with a pen and a bit of stationery when he saw Graveworthy duck through the door, spot them, and all but ambush them as he sat down. He looked triumphant and smug.
"Land sales are opening for the interior," he said, by way of greeting. Clare and Jack exchanged a look. "Two days from now the land office in Canberra will begin selling parcels northwest of Canberra and all along the route to the west. It's all theoretical, as they haven't sent surveyors out yet, but they've got a great big map to scale and they'll be charting it out shortly."
"So...that's good, yes?" Jack asked uncertainly.
"It's fantastic. They're already transferring money into my account. Almost every wealthy man in Canberra and a few in Melbourne and Sydney have taken out loans with the banks. Huge loans. The money's going into my accounts, and the day after tomorrow I'll take ten percent of it down to the land office and put in a down payment. Once the surveying's begun, I'm supposed to start transferring money to the land office in chunks, with a percentage profit held back for myself as the organising agent."
"Then what?" Clare asked. Graveworthy held up a hand as a waiter approached, ordered a steak and a bottle of beer, and waited until he'd left before continuing.
"Not here," he said softly, leaning over the table. "Too many ears around. I need to speak with Libris tonight, find out what he's been up to. I'd like to see the Res again tomorrow if we can. At any rate, there's also a lot of investment going into mining companies. Right now, we celebrate. Well. Eric Grimes and the Parsons family celebrate. That's what they expect."
"Suits me," Jack said.
"Would you like to go dancing tonight? Fancy dinner, good music?" Graveworthy asked. "Seems fitting. We're celebrating too, though there's much work to be done."
Jack glanced at Clare, who was watching Graveworthy with a mixture of amusement and concern.
"Yes," he said. "Clare?"
"Oh -- yes," Clare agreed.
***
Ellis felt easier now that he had a plan in place, a decisive move to block the government, at least temporarily, from starting a war with the rest of the world. No warships would leave port if the banks of Australia had failed. More than that, it was a bargaining chip: he wouldn't actually have to destroy the country's economy if he didn't want to. The threat was enough, and Bell and his ilk, as odious as they were, would realise it.
He allowed himself to relax enough, that evening, to enjoy the food at the restaurant (one of Bell's recommendations) and the dancing after, at a little music hall next door. He'd been to see William Libris, who assured him that the Tribals would welcome him back the following day and that they had heartening information for him. Jack seemed to be thriving, Clare seemed worried but confident, and Purva was annoyed by her new role but not evidently miserable. Clearly she understood the temporary nature of her servitude.
He thought about it as he watched Jack and Clare bickering about whether Jack had to dance with her. Clare seemed to like dancing, but Jack -- brilliant young Jack who could do anything if he had a spanner in his hand -- was not exactly the most graceful partner.
"Charity," he said, pushing away from the wall he'd been leaning on. "Is John refusing to dance?"
"It's just I don't want to knock anyone over," Jack protested.
"I'm sure you won't knock over more than two or three," Clare said, a teasing light in her eyes. "Or would you rather be taking one of the electric lamps apart?"
"You mock me now -- " Jack began, but Ellis laid a hand on Clare's shoulder, and he shut his mouth.
"Come dance with me, then," he said, and Clare glanced up at him. "I promise I'm more graceful than John."
"All right -- just to annoy him," she agreed, and let him draw her out into the crowded clear space where people were waltzing slowly.
"I didn't think you were one for dancing," she said, following his movements just a little stiffly.
"Oh yes. Mark of a gentleman, some people say," he answered. "Besides, it's charming, and I must be as charming as I possibly can, as often as I can."
"That must be tiring."
He laughed. "I enjoy it in the natural course of things, you must know that by now."
"You like it when people like you."
"Don't you?" he asked, not bothering to deny it. "Besides, I have a natural gift for it."
"Ha!"
"The fact that you didn't like me is no indication of the reactions of others. Besides, I wasn't trying to charm you."
"Oh no?" Clare asked, grinning.
"Not in the least. I was trying to challenge you. The young respond better to that. They mistrust charm; it seems too much like condescention."
"Well, I think I have good reason now to distrust charm the rest of my life," Clare replied.
"There's something in that, but I wouldn't make it an ironclad rule. Sometimes," he said, deftly avoiding one of the other dancers by shifting her sideways, one hand on her hip, "people really just want you to like them."
"You have a way of turning my words back on me that is just now beginning to try my patience," she said.
"Only just now? That's heartening, really, all things considered. On the other hand, I don't count under my breath while dancing."
Clare glanced at Jack, who was watching the dancing idly. He didn't look unhappy, but he did look...solitary.
"Do you think he wishes Purva were here?" she whispered.
"I think he wishes he were someplace where she could be," he answered. "Even if she were here, all she could do would be to fetch him a drink."
"I'm surprised she hasn't quit us already."
"She and I made a deal. Which I intend to enhance suitably, when the time and place are right."
"Oh?" Clare asked, looking intrigued.
"I appreciate her on a professional level, as well as considering her a friend, by now. Whatever happens, I'm bound to take her to Barataria; it ought to be a holiday after all this."
"I've never been."
"Neither have I, but I'm told the citizens are friendly, and they make very good drinks. And then, when our business there is completed, I intend to offer her a job."
"Really? As what?"
"Oh, whatever she pleases; we have no end of uses for clever youngsters. If nothing else, she's bound to live a very informative life."
"Would you offer me a job, if I asked?"
He considered it as he studied her face.
"I would advise you not to ask. An adventure when you're young is well and good, but this is dangerous work and not always for those with families to care about them. You have godparents missing you, and may soon have more ties than that."
"You mean if I find my parents here."
"Have you written to Melbourne yet?"
"No," she said, and looked away.
"Why not?"
"I'm afraid to," she admitted.
"Afraid to? Why on earth? Are you frightened they won't want to see you?"
"I have my reasons," she said, a little more sharply than he would have expected. After a moment, she added, "Would you offer Jack a job?"
"Good lord no. He's almost useless in my line of work. Besides, his future lies along a very different course from mine. My business is the human interior; his business is the great wide world. But I will tell you this -- I intend to keep him as a friend as long as I can. And you, as well."
"A friend?" she asked, as the music stopped. He let her go and bowed, giving her what he hoped was a paternal-seeming smile.
"Indeed. I have many acquaintances, but I am short of people who understand me and my work properly. When I find them, I keep them close. So you will have to get used to me, I'm afraid."
"What a chore," she replied, offering him her arm so that he could escort her back to Jack. "By the way -- as irritating and coldblooded as you are, I wouldn't leave you alone if you asked me to. So you'll have to get used to me, too."
He searched for a reply to that, something lighthearted and charming and possibly irritating, but before he could find his words she'd rejoined Jack and was asking him politely if he could please, papa, fetch her something to drink.
Jack, just behind her, gave him a wink over her head. Ellis felt that perhaps he'd missed something important. He'd have to ask Jack about it later.
Good lord, he was going to Jack for social explanations. The world was indeed stood on its head.
***
The next morning William Libris appeared on their doorstep, carrying a bundle of books that he pointedly, in the hallway, told Ellis he'd asked for. Ellis let him in without comment and offered him tea as Jack emerged from the bath.
"Two trips to the Res so close together might inspire suspicion," William said, nodding a greeting at Jack. "I've made alternate arrangements. An automobile will meet you in half an hour and take you to your transportation."
Ellis raised an eyebrow.
"I think you'll find it enjoyable," William added. "You'll be met by friendly people on the Res. Miss de la Fitte and I will join you in a few hours -- we're traveling the old-fashioned way."
"Are you losing wages at the Archives because of this?" Jack asked, surprising Ellis.
"I've told them I have a sick relative."
"But you're losing pay?" Jack repeated.
"All in the service," William said smoothly.
"We'll make sure you're paid for your time," Ellis said, which made Jack smile.
He smiled even more broadly when the three of them disembarked in a field outside of Canberra, an hour later, and he saw what their transportation was to be.
"Really?" he asked, turning to the driver. The man gestured at a figure climbing out of one of the two aeroplanes on the field. A Tribal woman, Ellis noted, with a leather cap on her head and a pair of goggles not unlike the ones they'd used in high winds on the airship.
"Good morning," she said cheerily. "Three, going up?"
"Going up?" Jack repeated, eyes wide.
"That's right. Come on; boss won't miss them today, he's away on business. Ma'am, you and your husband with me? Sir, Gerald will take you in his craft."
Ellis actually did hear Jack whoop with joy as the fragile, beautiful aeroplane left the ground, but he only remembered that later; his own craft was rolling along the bumpy track, engine incredibly loud in his ears, and he was busy worrying for his life.
Then with a jolt and a sinking-stomach feeling they were airborne. The bouncing and bumping ended abruptly, and they were airborne once more.
"HOW DID YOU LEARN TO FLY THIS?" he asked the Tribal man seated in front of him.
"EH WHAT?" the man called back.
"THIS!" Ellis shouted. "HOW DID YOU LEARN TO FLY IT?"
"BOSS CAN'T!" the man informed him. "LIKES TO FLY BUT VERY STUPID ABOUT IT. I TAKE HIM UP WHEN HE WANTS TO GO."
"HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU DONE THIS?"
"AT LEAST A DOZEN! IF YOU DON'T COUNT THE CRASH!"
Ellis wanted to inform the man that he very much wanted to count the crash, because he was hoping odds were in his favour of not encountering another one, but just then the aeroplane banked, following the trail of the other one, and Ellis saw how fast the ground beneath them was moving. Much, much faster than the airship.
He decided, instead of talking, he would slouch down in his seat and pray to whatever gods inhabited this country that he would make it to the Res in one piece.
It was a harrowing flight, much more so than the time he'd spent on the airship, but once the world stopped tilting quite so much and the plane leveled off he could at least breathe easily. And he had to admit it was much, much faster; barely an hour had passed, by his watch (consulted every few minutes) before the world was tilting in the other direction, and he had to hold on for dear life as the plane began to drop. In front of him, either Jack or Clare had turned to wave at him. He remembered being young and thinking that he was immortal and unbreakable, but even in his youth he wouldn't have risked flailing an arm outside of something moving through the air like this.
There was an almighty thump, a grinding and squealing noise, a rattling that felt like it would shake his teeth loose, and finally the dizzy sensation of being on firm ground again.
The pilot, Gerald, turned around to smile at him. "Here you are, sir."
"Thank god," he answered. Gerald laughed.
"Mind the -- " he stopped as Ellis hoisted himself out of the seat and nearly tumbled head-over-heels as he misjudged the distance between the stationary aeroplane and the ground, " -- drop."
Nearby, Clare was sitting on the ground, breathing deeply, and Jack was leaning over the double-seat in the rear of the aeroplane, no doubt asking a million questions about the flight they'd just had. After a minute Jack too jumped over the side, pulled Clare up with a laugh, and turned to thank the pilot.
"Mr. Graveworthy?" a voice said, and Ellis turned.
He could see people trooping across the dusty field towards them, King Billy and Clements and a few others. In front of him, however, was a tall dark-skinned woman with her hair pulled severely back into braids and one of the antiquated rifles slung over her back.
"That's me," he said. "Sorry, just getting my bearings."
"Understandable," she replied. "William arranged for us to meet you here."
"And you are...?" he asked.
"My name is Saturday," she said. "I'm a doctor. Come along; you have only a day, and I have much to show you."
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Revelations
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