Amelia and her apprentices were all hunched around a set of construction plans, which had subtly been laid over the top of the plans for the war wagon, by Dawkin. Amelia had been speaking in code to them all morning, but since they worked together on a daily basis, it was obvious they knew what she meant.
Sadly, that subterfuge was necessary, because Hobard constantly hovered just outside the workshop, which he’d long ago explained away by saying, “I’m here in case you need anything, ma'am.”
Amelia often sent him away to get snacks for her apprentices, which made them even more loyal, but that only ever gave them a few minutes of privacy. They spoke quietly when sensitive matters of construction came up, but Amelia knew Hobard had exceptional hearing.
“Marta’s home.” Iris commented as she stepped into the workshop.
She looked rather anxious, though only someone that had known her for a lifetime might have spotted it, because she was hiding it rather well. She was still in uniform from the morning’s work.
Amelia turned to Dawkin, “You’re in charge until I get back.”
“Yes, ma'am.” He smiled and nodded.
The sisters stepped outside, moving past Hobard to join Marta, who had a strange look of calm on her face, which was totally unlike her usual look of black depression. She was also in uniform.
As Amelia headed for the tower, her sisters followed. Amelia glanced back at Hobard, not at all surprised he was right behind them.
Amelia stopped and glared at the man, “My sisters and I need to speak alone. I mean no offense, Hobard, you’re an excellent butler, but you do hover a little too much. So, please go back to the house and leave us be until we come back.”
The brief look of pained offense that crossed the man’s face was amusing, but he bowed his head and apologized, “Sorry, ma'am. I will endeavor to hover less in the future.”
He smartly turned and walked away, though he did so much slower than would be expected.
When they arrived, Amelia unlocked the tower and the three of them stepped inside. Amelia lit a lantern while her sisters barred the door, because the place had no windows, unlike the gleaming tower hidden inside.
Amelia informed them, “We can speak privately in here. I’ve taken great pains to block all sorts of magic with runic enchantments for the sake of this and only the very best remote-viewers might still get through.” She lovingly set a hand on one of the fins of the hidden, metal tower.
“What is it?” Iris asked, once the door was secure.
Amelia answered, “Our escape and hypothetically, our new home.”
“When will it be ready?” Marta inquired, “I can’t endure the army anymore. I won’t kill for them again, but I won’t go to prison, either.”
Amelia’s tone revealed her confusion, “What are you saying?”
“Either you get us out of here, or I’ll burn myself and my squad in place of the next target.” Marta spoke with eerie and disturbing calm that left her sister staring with great concern.
After a long moment of stunned silence, Iris was next, “If we stay, they’re going to order me to kill King Bayard of Skobia. It would seem I have a talent for what my superiors are calling ‘remote-touch’, which goes far beyond mere remote-viewing. They’re training me to crush his heart and I’ve been practicing all week on chickens and sheep. I can live with hurting animals, but if we don’t leave, I’ll definitely have human blood on my hands, though it won’t belong to Bayard. I plan to kill Denholm first, if I can, then the old bat that’s been training me.”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea things had gotten so bad for the both of you.” Amelia hung her head, “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long, but Starwitch will be ready after tonight. My apprentices and I will be putting in one last all-nighter, but I need some huge distraction to keep the servants away.”
“Leave that to me.” Marta suggested, “I’ll go on a bender and trash the house. No butler or maid could resist dealing with the swath of destruction I’ll create and considering that time I got roaring drunk on leave, none of them should think it’s out of character.”
“Amelia, did you finally figure out what the house servants have been hiding?” Iris asked.
“What? That we can’t trust them?”
“Well, yes, but I was referring to the fact they’re all military. Look at the way they walk sometime and think about our own basic training. You’ll see it in their movements. We’ve been in a gilded cage from the start, but they waited until we were conscripted to start locking the door.”
Amelia took a moment to consider and applied the thought to Hobard, finding it fit disturbingly well. Adding that to the way Airwitch had been seized by the military, because the Blackwell sisters had been considered likely to fly away, and it really added up.
Marta sighed, “You can be remarkably dense, for such an intelligent woman.”
“Take Dawkin, for example.” Iris chuckled, “Have you kissed him yet, Amelia?”
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Amelia was surprised by the sudden change in direction, sputtering, “Wha-why would I kiss my chief assistant?”
“He’s got it bad and you’re clueless.” Marta shook her head, “Next time you see him, get your head out of the clouds and look at him as a woman, rather than an engineer. Forget you’re a witch for that moment, too.”
“I don’t understand!” Amelia protested.
Her sisters met each other’s gaze and sighed at the same time.
“Should I spell it out?” Iris asked.
“No, no.” Marta shook her head and waved a hand, dismissively, “She’d just screw it up and we both know it. It will be more entertaining to let her make her own mistakes.”
Amelia demanded, “Screw up what?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Marta smiled a little, “Just try doing what I said.”
Iris added, “Maybe you’ll see it, but knowing you, you won’t.
“Anyway, I gather this – what did you call this thing?” She gestured toward the metallic tower.
“Starwitch.” Amelia answered.
“Nice name. I assume Starwitch will carry us far away, right?”
Amelia agreed, “Further than you could possibly imagine, and definitely beyond the reach of Dugaria.”
“Good,” Iris nodded, “because I’m sick of this country.”
“So, what’s the plan?” Marta lowered her voice, to get more serious.
Amelia stepped toward the stairs, saying, “Let me show you around, to start with…”
The sisters stood in the bottom-most room of the interior of Starwitch, having climbed down a long ladder set into the floor, which was currently vertical, because the entire structure was pointed upward, rather than laying flat. In one corner was about three-quarters of a wheel of cheese that had been extensively nibbled on, perhaps by rats, half a bottle of milk and an empty saucer.
“Is there a reason you built the floor as one of the walls?” Marta asked in a confused tone.
“That will change in flight, but I added the ladder so we could get around inside, until we launch.” Amelia explained, “We’ll have to make our own gravity with magic, because we’ll be in free fall, but that won’t-
“What is this thing?” Iris demanded, “I can sense incredible magic pouring from it!”
She pointed at a cylindrical arrangement of six metal rods linking a series of metal plates, that had been mounted into the center of the wall, which was currently serving as a floor. All of it gleamed in a silvery, mirror-like fashion, though it put the average mirror to shame. Each of the thirty or so little plates had been etched with hundreds of different runes, which formed complex sentences of instructions in the ancient language of magic, complete with linking and conditional runes. Every one of the plates was unique, but contrary to what Iris had said, magic was pouring to it, rather than from it. The whole thing was two and a half feet long, with the plates mounted at one inch intervals. The top plate was different from the rest, with a magic circle etched into it. Everything was linked together with screws, very similar to the rune plates in Amelia’s steam engines.
“The spell-core.” Amelia answered, “It’s based on a design from The Book of Newts, made from a rather rare metal called mythril. It took most of my money and all the favors the military owed me to get just five pounds of the stuff, but it will be worth it. It took ages to etch every known rune in conditional arrays that can be-”
Sensing Amelia was about to babble incoherently in a technical tongue of her own invention, without a translator on hand, Iris interrupted again, “What does it do?”
“Almost anything.” Amelia grinned, “It can cast spells in my place, since I’m so bad at magic. Mythril draws large amounts of magic into itself and stores it away, like most any metal or stone does, but it can store far more and it draws it in much faster.”
Marta was next to request clarification, “But how can an object cast spells?”
“All runic enchantments are spells, just in written form.” Amelia enthused, “They normally work continuously, but with limiting and conditional runes, they can be made to work only when needed. That’s especially important with mythril, because it can be so powerful. It took me ages to work out the details, but I was able to etch every rune I know into it. I also made them all conditional. It requires a human to touch the core and the control array on the top plate,” she gestured to the magic circle, “will focus the imagination into a spell, using the stored magic, within certain safety limits I set. After all, I’d rather not explode.”
Iris and Marta stared at the enchanted device with a measure of nervous terror, clearly bothered by the notion of a device that could cast spells with the touch of any human.
“I know that sounds super dangerous.” Amelia tried to reassure them, “I limited it to only work for Blackwell women.”
Her sisters relaxed, because that was a reasonable precaution.
Marta pointed at the cheese and milk in the corner, “So, what’s with the cheese and milk? It looks like some rats might have gotten in here.”
Amelia appeared to notice it for the first time and knelt beside the cheese wheel, which had a note she’d left on top of it, that read as follows:
This milk and cheese is an offering to any Brownies that would like a home. Feel free to eat and drink as much as you like. I’ll get more cheese when it runs out, but won’t be able to get you more milk.
Amelia hastily pocketed the note, because she knew enough about Brownies to know she could never openly discuss them. Their home back in Daleshade had also been home to some, as evidenced by the fact they’d always had shoes in good repair, even when they’d been broken the day before. Mother had always been very keen on having fresh dairy products on hand to leave out for them.
Ironically, Amelia had never seen one and doubted she ever would, but she also knew they were renowned for their ability to fix almost anything, ranging from shoes to clocks, all in exchange for dairy products. They were considered magical creatures and their talent for repairs was usually attributed to magic.
Amelia put a finger to her lips, calling for silence.
She smiled as she spotted a tiny hand print in the cheese, where one of them had steadied it, to tear a piece off. Removing a little ruler from her belt, Amelia measured the print, coming up with a length from finger tip to wrist of seven millimeters. Doing a little math in her head, she guessed the unseen fairies were at most, three inches tall, if their bodies were proportioned the same as humans.
Amelia had once dumped flour on the floor of the house to get some idea how large their home’s Brownies were, based on foot size, but she’d been frustrated to find all the flour cleaned up and returned to its container, without contamination. She hadn’t been trying to get some information on their size, but the newcomer or newcomers had, in an almost literal sense, very slightly tipped their hand.
Amelia hefted the cheese into the air and pointed at the tiny hand print. Marta and Iris both smiled. Amelia put the cheese down and poured more milk into the saucer.
Iris grinned, “I’ll never understand why you like rats so much.”
“Yeah, rats. Amelia, you’re weird.” Marta also smiled pretty wide.
“I know,” Amelia shrugged, “but rats can be really cute, kind of like squirrels, only without the fluffy tails and the nasty-looking orange teeth. You know, now that I think about it, rats are far cuter than squirrels.” She winked.
Her sisters chuckled and they began the long climb back out.
