Chapter Twenty-Four
I woke to Julian and Ezra talking in low tones, and warmth that felt more encompassing than radiance. Without opening my eyes, I allowed their voices to wash over me. Ezra stroked my arm softly, an acknowledgment that he knew I’d awoken.
“She can defend herself. But you’re at a disadvantage in the city,” Julian was saying. “I don’t see why you have to be there.”
“The exposition is in a public park. It’s not like the city is barren of plant life,” Ezra said. “I’ve come this far. I’m not letting you two flit off to an illegal demonstration without me.”
Julian made a disgruntled sound. “Well, we’ve established that you won’t listen to me.”
“You two are the ones in the most danger, don’t you think?” Ezra asked. “When the House realizes what’s going on, they’re going to be highly invested in assassinating you both.”
“Let’s agree that going to the exposition is dangerous and we’re doing it anyway,” I said with a yawn, before sitting up and stretching. They sat on the edge of the bed, Ezra smiling, and Julian, already dressed for the day, stiff with what I now recognized as anxiety.
“Your hair is standing up every which way,” Ezra said, laughing quietly and patting my head.
“How late did we sleep?” I asked. The more I awakened, the more I related to Julian’s tension. Today was our last day to prepare to do something impossible.
“It’s only a bit after dawn,” Julian said. His words seemed to break a spell, and we moved away from each other. He stood and fidgeted, and Ezra grabbed the neatly folded clothes on the side table and began to get dressed.
I turned from the sight of his bare skin, grateful for the opportunity to hide my sudden trembling. The night before, I’d allowed my fears to be tucked away. But now they pressed against me like silent screams. How could we possibly be ready by tomorrow?
When Nikola brought us breakfast, my heart was beating so fast and so loud, I was certain that Ezra and Julian would hear it where they sat on the chairs beside the bed. Perched on the middle of the mattress, I stared at the early light illuminating the milky window glass.
Nikola placed a tray on the side table and handed Julian a mug of tea. “You look a bit ill,” she said, pressing another mug into my hands. “Nerves?”
I nodded, wishing she hadn’t been able to tell. Like Julian, she was already dressed. She’d pulled her long hair up into a tight bun, and she wore suspenders over a man’s shirt that somehow fit her perfectly. I doubted either of them had been able to sleep much.
“If you weren’t nervous, I’d be concerned for your sanity,” she said, offering another mug to Ezra. He lowered his eyes, appearing uncommonly shy. At least I wasn’t the only one flustered by her.
“Here’s to keeping my breakfast down,” I muttered, before blowing on my tea.
Nikola sat on the bed, handing out scones baked with salty bits of chewy pork in the dough. She smiled when I finished one in a few ravenous bites, and handed me another. “Looks like you’re having no trouble.”
“These are delicious,” I said with my mouth full. “Thank you.”
The comforting taste and the hot tea soothed my skittish nerves. For a few minutes, we shared the meal like a proper family, making idle small talk about the trip from Frostbrook to Cascade. Nikola seemed to especially enjoy hearing about Julian fishing us out of the Dry Bone.
“And the three of you have an arrangement?” she abruptly asked.
Julian nearly spilled his tea and then stared into the mug as if expecting to find his fortune at the bottom of it. Ezra became similarly occupied, picking crumbs off his plate. I must have looked as helplessly tongue-tied, because Nikola laughed when she glanced at me.
“Let me offer you a word of advice,” Nikola said, gesturing at us airily. “When we’re not occupied with trying to transform the whole of Industry, consider having a conversation about whatever this is.”
I wasn’t sure what sounded more difficult. But I wanted the opportunity to have that awkward, difficult talk. It would mean we’d survived. It would mean we had a future together.
“Wise words,” Ezra said, gathering our plates and mugs. Our knuckles brushed together, and I exhaled a breathy giggle. Julian turned his head away, clearly trying to hide a fond expression.
“Finish up, and meet me downstairs on the hour,” Nikola said, handing me my clean clothes. “We’re going on a field trip.”
By day, the Far Bank was no more inviting than it had been in the lamplight.
Following Nikola’s lead, I narrowly avoided stepping in a suspicious-looking puddle as we made our way down a cobblestone street that wound between brick buildings leaning to and fro like drunken sailors.
Although much of the Far Bank was industrial, this neighborhood was residential.
We passed gardens planted in whiskey barrels and shipping pallets.
I caught Ezra running his hand across a makeshift trellis, coaxing pole beans to climb higher.
“Practice some restraint,” Julian said tightly.
“This is absolutely restraint,” Ezra returned, prompting a scraggly plant in a tin can to sprout shiny new leaves.
Despite the early hour, we weren’t the only ones on the street.
Vendors were pushing carts laden with trinkets and apothecary bottles.
They were likely making the long trek over the bridge to the park where crowds would be gathering to admire the buildings constructed for the Continental Exposition.
Well-dressed tourists emerged from boarding houses, looking flea-bitten and sleepless.
A scrawny boy who reminded me of Henry ran by, chasing after an even scrawnier goat.
Every so often, I spotted posters protesting the House of Industry.
Some were half torn, and others had obscene words painted over them.
I couldn’t recall seeing anything like them before, but then again, every time I’d traveled around Sterling City as a student on assignments, I’d been told to keep the carriage curtains drawn.
And when I’d been out in the open, I’d lowered my gaze, hating the way people stared.
Here in the Far Bank, Julian and I were as good as invisible. Children played on front stoops, paying us no mind. I liked it.
It was a cool, foggy morning. We made our way past the towering Far Bank bridge house, down a slight incline to the warehouses that lined the Sterling River.
Here, barges collected and deposited goods.
Workers moved like bees in a hive all along the riverfront, loading and unloading with a series of radiance-powered cranes that looked like skeletal birds.
Nikola led the way to her workshop confidently.
“Are you worried we’re being followed?” I asked, out of breath from keeping up with her long-legged pace.
She stopped in front of an unmarked warehouse. “My spies are following us, and they’ll handle anyone we don’t want following us.”
A broad-shouldered woman with dark brown skin sat on a pile of pallets. She looked us up and down, not bothering to hide her suspicion. “These your friends, Nik?”
Nikola handed her a rumpled pack of cigarettes.
“We’re making strides toward that,” she said, drawing a key from the ring at her hip and unlocking the warehouse door.
“Anyone who comes by this morning should have the watchword. If they don’t, signal Lisbeth.
Stars know she’s aching to fry someone up. ”
“Tensions are high,” the woman agreed, lighting a cigarette with a match and exhaling like someone who hadn’t taken a full breath in a week. “Wouldn’t mind frying someone up myself.”
Nikola led us into a warehouse far cleaner than the street outside.
The floor was hard-packed dirt, but in the middle of the room, a wooden platform served as a workspace.
On it, canvas tarps covered what looked like machines roughly the size of wagon carts.
Long worktables were covered in tools and machine parts I recognized, along with things I didn’t—glass tubes and bulbs in odd shapes.
On the far side of the long warehouse, what looked like a conduction coil surrounded by a metal cage towered nearly to the roof.
A slender antenna protruded from the top.
Another shorter, thinner coil stood nearby.
Julian began touching things immediately, sorting through tools on the table. Ezra followed him, observing warily.
I pointed to the caged coil. “What is that?” I asked Nikola.
“Oh,” she said absently, glancing to see what I was asking about.
“It makes lightning, more or less. Well, not as powerful. Showy, but a little too disconcerting for a public demonstration. Also impossible to move. And I haven’t named it yet.
” Grunting with effort, she pulled the heavy tarps off the closer machines, one at a time.
I’d been right about the machines being roughly the size of wagon carts.
They even had sturdy wheels and hitches.
Sorting out what I was looking at felt like trying to recall a dream.
I could make out the general bones of a smaller conduction coil, but there were too many additional cables and twists and turns.
“This is a portable generator,” Nikola said proudly.
The name startled me, but of course—of course, a machine that created electricity would share a name with the Children of Industry who were used like machines to create radiance.
Ezra had drifted over to us to examine the machines. “When I say portable, I’m typically referring to something the size of a suitcase,” he said. “These will take four horses to move.”
“Eight horses,” Nikola corrected. “When I say portable, I mean they’re not a permanent installation. Full electricity stations will be the size of entire houses.”
“We have to get these to the exposition grounds by tomorrow?” Ezra asked dubiously.
“Yes.” Nikola sounded unbothered. “It takes five hours. We’ll leave at midnight.”