Chapter Twelve
It was indeed a very merry gathering at Silas Gray’s residence that night.
Even though Gen grew sleepy and was lovingly tucked into bed by her Mama, the party continued amongst the adults, warm, comfortable, and enjoying each other.
It became even more convivial when Silas produced a rare bottle of Old Crown Foundry brandy. Snifters were produced and the liquor carefully poured.
“A toast,” he said, raising his glass. “To the amazing accomplishments of our own Thea. Long may she grace the Forge.”
“To Thea.”
“Oh, well, no...” The woman herself blushed, embarrassed.
“It was a joint effort.” She looked at Silas.
“You trusted me with the task, and you, Hiram, could have talked him out of it and didn’t.
” Then she turned to Lyra. “And if it weren’t for your sweet Gen, I doubt any of us would be here this evening.
” She caught herself up. “Well, the two gentlemen might be, I suppose.”
Hiram laughed, a bold, ripe sound that made everyone around him smile. “We might indeed, Thea, but even if we were, I’ll wager a month’s pay we wouldn’t be sipping his private stock.” He raised his glass as everyone laughed.
They had gone over and over the fortunes of the day, and by this point, Thea was tired of retelling her mechanical magic tricks, and although proud of them, she was also somewhat embarrassed.
It was a strange and enervating experience...to be lauded for the technical achievements she had yearned to practise her entire life. And here she was, six levels down from that life, being toasted every bit as enthusiastically as she would have been were she the Queen of Arcvale.
Which realisation brought her spirits thundering down.
It was somewhat of a coincidence that, apparently, Lyra’s thoughts ran along similar lines.
“How will you transport the Mistletoe machine up to the sixth level?” She smiled over the rim of her snifter. “It will have to be there for the Turning of the Green, won’t it.”
Silence fell.
“I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?” She put down her glass, a worried look on her face.
“No, no, dear girl. Not at all.” Hiram reached for her hand and held it snugly within his fingers.
“It’s just that with all the excitement, I am thinking we all forgot about the next step.
” He sighed. “Most of us aren’t really comfortable at the upper levels.
Which is why we tend to keep to ourselves down here. ”
“I see,” she said thoughtfully. “Well, couldn’t someone from the Council of Wardens come down and transport it himself, rather than you?”
Dorothea cleared her throat. “I understand that those gentlemen aren’t fond of venturing beyond their familiar surroundings, Lyra.”
“Really? How strange. The Wardens have authority over pretty much everything in Arcvale, don’t they? Including the Forge?” She glanced at Hiram. “Forgive my ignorance, but the hierarchy of the uppermost levels is quite beyond me.”
Hiram raised her hand and dropped a kiss on it, a move that seemed so natural, nobody raised an eyebrow. “The workings of the Council are pretty much beyond everyone, Lyra. And between you and me, I believe they work hard to keep it that way.”
“That doesn’t seem right,” she replied, a frown on her face. “After all, Arcvale is composed of all levels, not just the top one.”
“An egalitarian view, Lyra, and most commendable.” Silas nodded. “But Hiram’s right. I cannot actually recall the last time a Warden came this far down.”
Dorothea swirled her brandy gently around the bowl of her snifter. “I seem to recall something about the Council changing its regulations. Quite some time ago...” She frowned. “I think it was when I was still being tutored, so that would put it about five or six years ago.”
“Oh, Thea, you know I think I remember reading something about it. I was expecting Gen at the time, so it would have been closer to six years ago now.”
Silas had remained silent throughout this exchange, but now he just sighed, a deep and profound sigh that caught Dorothea’s attention immediately. “What is it, Silas?”
He closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair, letting it fall loosely wherever it wished. “I’m not an enthusiastic supporter of the Council,” he said quietly. “We, and when I say we I mean the Forge, are pretty much neglected these days.”
“But...that’s wrong,” she frowned. “Arcvale needs the Forge to...well, to survive. Not just for Christmas decorations, but for all the other wonderful things it makes possible.” She paused for breath.
“The transportation systems, for example. And so many everyday conveniences that we sometimes take far too much for granted. I know I do.” She nodded emphatically.
“But now? Now I’ve been down here and seen how hard everyone works, and how you all care about each other?
I believe that every member of the Council of Wardens should be obliged to spend at least a week here.
Otherwise, how can they value something of which they know nothing?
” She blinked. “I’m not sure that came out quite right. ..”
“We know what you mean, dear girl,” grinned Hiram. “More brandy?”
The laugh was general, but the point had been made, and Dorothea turned it over in her mind as the surrounding conversation continued.
It was heartwarming to see Hiram, the gentle giant, tend to Lyra, the wounded chick, with such kindness.
And it was equally heartwarming to see Lyra’s reserve melting in the sunshine he radiated.
She would never be whole, never go dancing or running along through tunnels with Gen.
But she might, if Dorothea read Hiram’s expression correctly, find a new and wonderful life with a man who would become family.
Something she believed that both parties desperately desired.
“I suppose we should make some sort of transportation arrangements.” Silas stared at his brandy. “I can have a crew put together in time. All they have to do is make the right connections and everything will be up and running.”
Dorothea looked at him. “Silas. Shouldn’t the Forge Marshal be present?”
“I haven’t been up there in some time,” he answered quietly. “The Council always finds a willing Warden to make the speeches and push the right levers.”
“Well, I say we should leave that until tomorrow. Tonight is for celebrating an amazing lady, who has hauled a lot of pistons out of a very hot fire.” Hiram raised his glass. “A toast, my friends. To Miss Thea of the Magic Toolbox.”
“To Miss Thea.”
Everyone echoed the toast as Dorothea blushed crimson. It wasn’t her moment, it was everyone’s moment. And she was on the verge of saying so when she saw Silas’s warm smile and the glint in his eyes over his brandy.
It stirred something heated inside her. Something she knew she wanted to explore.
So she simply rose with a smile, curtsied gracefully, and sat down again, wondering what else this night might bring.
*~~*~~*
Less than an hour later, Silas found himself alone with Thea.
He had many things on his mind, problems that needed some sort of solution, questions to which he had no answers, and above all a growing need to have his arms wrapped around a certain young woman, whose taste still lingered on his lips.
But the conversation had raised issues that he was as yet unwilling to confront. He knew the time would come for him to talk to Thea. And perhaps at that time, she would talk to him.
There were secrets that lay between them, and if he was to pursue a relationship with her—something he very much desired—then those secrets would have to be revealed.
He’d bid a cheerful goodnight to Hiram, received a resounding thump on the shoulder in parting, and wondered how long it would be before Lyra and Gen discovered they’d found a champion, and possibly the foundation of a family.
Time would tell.
But now, it was just him and Thea, who sat silently in her chair, nursing her brandy, and staring into the fire. Then she turned to him.
“How long do you think it will take Lyra to realise that Hiram’s hopelessly in love with her?”
Silas had to chuckle at how her question mirrored his thoughts. “I was just wondering the same thing,” he replied.
“They look right together,” she mused, “and I can see how much he wants to take care of both of them.”
He nodded. “Hiram’s past has not included much in the way of happiness, Thea.
I shall not go into it, that’s for him to decide who knows and who doesn’t.
But I will say he is one of the finest men I have ever met.
He has courage beyond that of most ordinary men, and a heart as big as the Forge itself.
Lyra is a very lucky woman, and Gen...if what we believe may come to pass actually does.
..little Gen will have found a father who will raise her with all the love and attention she needs. ”
“What a wonderful thing to say, Silas.” Dorothea watched his face. “I might also suggest that were he asked, he might well say the same about you.” She smiled. “You are both so lucky to have found each other and formed such a strong bond.”
“Indeed we are,” he agreed. “Do you have any close friends, Thea?”
She shook her head. “Not like you and Hiram, no.”
“But there are friends...?”
“A few, of course. One cannot exist very comfortably without them.”
“And what of gentlemen? You’re a beautiful young woman, intelligent, desirable...you have all the attributes that could easily drive a man...well, you must have more than a few admirers.”
It was a risky question, but Silas found himself needing to know more about her. What it was that had driven her from the heights of society down into the depths of the Forge.
“A few. None of importance.” She lowered her lashes, hiding whatever thoughts might be lurking behind those glorious eyes.
“Thea,” he said quietly. “We must talk.”
She looked up quickly, a frown creasing her brow. “No. I mean, well, we are talking, are we not? This is talking. We talked all day, or most of it anyway...”
He rose and crossed the room, pushing one of the low tables in front of her chair, then sitting on it, facing her.
“Thea,” he repeated. “There’s something here.
Something between you and me...” He took her hands in his.
“Something I find exciting, and appealing... Something I want to pursue. And I think you do as well. But how can we if there are secrets between us?”
His conscience kicked him hard, but this time was for Thea, not his own revelations. Those would come later.
She was staring at him, with a mixture of bravado and nerves in her eyes.
“Trust me, dear girl. Can you not trust me?”
“I...I...want to, Silas. I really do...” She hesitated, her hands shifting in his.
“Well, how about this.” He stood, right in front of her, and picked her up in his arms, sitting back down in her chair and settling her on his lap.
“Silas,” she squeaked. “What...”
“Hush. If we’re going to talk to each other of private matters, then we need to be comfortable.” He grinned. “I’m very comfortable. How about you?”
A little blush rose on her cheeks, but she managed a smile. “Well, now you come to mention it, yes. Actually, I’m quite comfortable as well.”
“That’s my girl.”
She blinked. “I’ve never been anybody’s ‘girl’...”
“You are now, Thea. You are now.”