Eagles and Swans
Chapter 18: Breaks and Repairs
It was another Saturday in Eldon’s basement lab. The machines were chugging in full force, boilers and pipes gurgling with heat. The Swift hung over Sandro and Sef as they welded metal into the undercarriage, the frames of wings just beginning to take shape.
“I said I need a two inch!” shouted Sandro over the buzz of the welder. “Hand it over, blockhead!”
Sef grudgingly snatched the wrench out of his toolbox—then let his hand drop to his side when he caught sight of the newcomers. “Oh, Mister Legars!” he shouted. “We might have to replace some bits of the fuselage, they’re all rusted up after the leaks.”
“I thought so,” sighed Eldon as he walked to inspect the seams of the runway hatch in the wall. “We’ll need this all in working order soon. There's spare metal in storage. You want to go cart it over?”
While the two scrambled towards the door to storage, Ruthenia began to inspect the work they’d completed over the week. She prodded the rivets on the plates and swung the unfinished door back and forth.
Then she stepped back with folded arms among the stacks of plates, and appraised the Swift in its entirety. Behind her, the three men ceased their conversation momentarily.
She grinned. “Is it anything like you pictured, Tanio?” she asked.
“Almost, if a little...clunkier,” he replied. “But that’s your fault.”
“It’s my fault this machine won’t disintegrate in midair,” Ruthenia retorted.
“Well, it won’t be what I envisioned until it leaves the ground,” he said, coming up beside her. “And that’d be when Sharmon works out how to purify his miracle fuel.” He turned. “Hey, Hedgehog Head! When’s that going to be? Have you been skiving off with your paintings again?”
“I'm doing my darnedest!” he declared with a laugh. “Running a business isn’t easy, you know what I mean. Cartloads of paperwork and the omnipresent nag that you could always be getting more done.”
By then, Ruthenia had returned to the hull of the Swift with a rivet gun, a hammer and a new piece of plating, and she set to work as the two men bantered idly, and it became clear that Sharmon was weeks, if not months, from a solution.
*
Before they walked out to lunch, Ruthenia wove her way up to Eldon and tapped on his arm. “Could I speak to you in private?” she asked in a whisper. “It's about my boss.”
Eldon's eyebrows rose. “Certainly. I hope there hasn't been…conflict between the two of you.”
She shook her head. “Nothing between us. But he did a stupid thing recently that I have to do something about.”
While the butler laid out the day's spread for Tanio, Sharmon, and the brothers, the secretary waved her into an alcove. “Now, whatever could be bothering you?”
Ruthenia weighed her choices. Eldon was the only person she knew who could be entrusted with this knowledge and also help in any way. “A couple of days ago, Tanio sent a flying machine to the government.”
His eyes widened. “What? Surely not.”
“Oh, yeah. A flying camera. But hear this: it's a flying camera with an engine powered by Thread.”
The same look of bafflement came to Eldon that must have come over Ruthenia when she had first heard. “He's playing with fire,” he muttered. “If he draws too much suspicion, everything else, everything here, could come to light.”
“Yes, great, we are on the same page here. Well, since he's intent on leaving the outcome of the review up to the whims of the Kings, I'm the one who's going to do something about it in his stead, and I'm hoping you can help me.”
“That man's overconfidence will be his undoing,” sighed Eldon. “Well, what will you have me do?”
“Could you put in a good word for Tanio? Convince them to let his flying camera pass review?”
At this, his face fell, grey eyebrows knitting together. “Oh, Miss Cendina…you know I cannot.” It had been a stretch anyway, but Ruthenia's heart still plummeted. “My connection with Mister Calied is not known to the royal families. Defending him would be…irregular. Suspicious, even. And if they began to suspect me of wayward opinions, then there could be an investigation. And all of the documents relating to the Swift—they are housed with me.”
Ruthenia frowned. “I understand,” she murmured. “Maybe I need to do this myself.”
“Perhaps you do,” Eldon replied, deep in thought. “If someone had to defend a mechanical project, and could do it without raising suspicion…who better than Lita Kyril's daughter?”
Ruthenia drew in a breath. “Alright, how do I do that?”
The secretary scratched his chin. “There's an event coming next week,” he said, “and some attendees, I hear, are allowed an honorary guest…”
“Surprise! It's me again. And I need another favour.”
Etiquette class had only just ended in the concert hall—an hour-long bout of yelling and tripping that Ruthenia had only just survived. She had never been one for ballroom dancing, but she would have gotten by if not for her dance partner, Perrio. While classmates around her had spent the hour teasing each other about their assigned partners, Perrio had vocally complained about his all through the class. She was certain he had been stomping on her toes on purpose.
She winced with every step, wondering if he'd broken any bones with his wooden heels. Most of the class had already vanished from the dim hall, leaving them alone by the unlit stage.
Aleigh only spent a second frowning. “We shouldn't make a habit of this,” he said, picking up his briefcase. “Tell me about it on the way to the menagerie.”
Ruthenia grumbled wordlessly with the agony of her ten bruised toes. They left the hall through an archway, into a corridor drowned in orange light.
“So, what is it that you need this time?” he asked.
“I want to speak to the kings,” Ruthenia replied. “Personally.”
“What for?”
“Remember that spooled Thread? Well, guess what my stupid boss made with it. A Thread machine! A machine powered by Thread! And guess what he did with it. He sent it to the government!”
“So I heard,” he said impassively.
“So, now, I need to clean up his mess. I need to persuade the Kings not to put him on the chopping block.”
For a minute, Aleigh did not reply. Around them, like rising water, the evening light flooded the bottommost steps, making the flecks inside glitter like embers of flame from a firework. The background noise of departing footsteps and chatter grew clearer.
“Ruthenia,” he finally said. “Just so I'm sure I am understanding right…you would like an audience with the kings, to convince them on matters of policy.”
“Yes.”
“Have you considered writing a petition letter?” He was suppressing a laugh.
Ruthenia growled. “Petition letters are useless! I bet the kings don't even read them.”
“No, they do not. The council reads them on their behalves, and presents them a daily summary.” He sighed. “And another thing. If you were to visit the kings by my invitation, your actions could implicate me.”
“You're so sure it'll go badly!” she snapped. They stepped out of the deluge of daylight.
“You aren't exactly one for delicacy or tact.”
“Oh, you want to talk about delicacy! Well, if you recall, I saved you-know-who by fixing you-know-what! Think about that. Now I need to fix my boss' stupid decisions, too. Before they land him in jail. And I heard there's an event coming up that you'll have a spare invite to.”
He narrowed his eyes, perhaps weighing his obligations and risks. “This is the last time,” he said. “But yes, the wedding of my cousin to his fiancée Cathia, does come in two Saturdays' time. I am allowed one honorary guest, and your attendance may suit my objectives as well as yours.”
“Your objectives?”
“Yes, to prevent my brother from picking someone else to fill the seat.”
She nods. “That sounds fair enough.”
“Be warned, however, that there will be full press coverage.”
“Great. If it's in the open, Aligon can't pull any cheap tricks.”
“And, there will be a six-course banquet.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
“And…dancing.”
At this, she scowled. “Am I allowed to skip the dancing?”
“Certainly.”
“Alright, then, I'm sold. I'll attend the wedding.”
Aleigh paused. “Are you sure? For at least that day, and perhaps for days after, you will be visible in a way you may never have known before.”
Ruthenia sucked in a breath. “I would rather try.”
“Then it is settled. I will have an invitation written to you shortly,” he said. His voice fell. “Ruthenia, you are a uniquely dauntless person. I fear you might fly straight into your demise someday.”
“I take that as a compliment.”
“What have I done,” he sighed as he left for the menagerie, “creating a debt I can never repay.”
Ruthenia shot away southeast from the Central Circle School, fast as fleeing. She sank into the smog of the New Town traffic, dropping onto the street in a flurry of dust and debris.
Up in the corner of their usual haunt, Gordo lifted his head with smile, dropping his end of a long flower chain. “She’s here!” he exclaimed, turning to Hyder, who was busy threading a flower onto his end. “Tell her about the bird!”
“Hey, Ruth, we planned the new prank,” Hyder put in while she walked towards them. “But this one’s better than the drain, I swear! You've heard of the Pteryx?”
If there was any single animal Ruthenia heard too often about, it was the Pteryx. “What, the green chicken?” she said.
“Yeah, we're gonna steal it,” he replied, beaming. “And leave it in the archbishop's office. Imagine the uproar! If we can get Reida in on this, we could get the Swan’s Post to imply that the clergy stole it.”
“Clergy? I like the sound of it,” she said. “But that bird isn’t exactly the easiest to nab.”
“Oh yeah, I heard they have guards watching it day and night. Now that's a real challenge,” Hyder declared with glee.
By now, Ruthenia was finally relaxing in the notion that Hyder was much better in this art of stealth and escape than she could possibly have imagined, and so she smiled back. “Give the chicken a mini archbishop hat,” she chuckled. Gordo laughed, slapping his thigh.
She leaned back against the wall, watching as they returned to threading flowers onto the ever-growing chain. Watching the pair hard at work, she sighed. “I just wish they'd have given you a chance to be something…more, Hyder.”
For a moment Hyder stared at the next flower, a bright yellow dandelion, before weaving it onto the chain. Then he lifted his eyes to Ruthenia with an abashed smile. “Hey, I'm flattered.”
She strode over to the two boys. The flower chain was almost three feet long. “You could be doing something important, you know? With this talent of yours.”
He lowered the chain. “What could I do?” he replied with a shrug. “If I joined a school now, they'd be able to tie all my past crimes to me. Right?” He grimaced, eyes glistening. “Some people have everything from the moment they’re born, and they couldn’t spare a cupre for our lives.”
In the silence that followed, Ruthenia watched as the boys looped and slotted flowers onto the chain, stalk by stalk, until the piles ran out and there were colourful petals all over their laps and on the street around them, glowing in the late sunlight.
Hyder tied the two ends together, as deftly as he did Thread. He rose, walking to the other end of the alley to hang it upon the fence.
“Oh, yes, the fourteenth of August,” Ruthenia said, staring beyond the fence at the sleeping smokestacks beyond.
When Hyder turned, his eyes were glistening. “I still miss them,” he replied.
She nodded heavily. “I imagine you would.” She could see that he was growing bonier, with hunger, perhaps. “We’ll bite back someday,” she said. “Like a naga, we’ll bite back.”
At teatime the next day, Ruthenia took Hollia aside and cornered her with a frown.
“Hollia, this is probably going to sound ridiculous,” she said, “but I really need you to help me out.”
Her eyes widened, a cocktail of fear and surprise in them. “Yes?”
“You know about Lord Anio’s coming wedding?”
Hollia nodded. “Yes, of course! It's shaping up to be a huge bash—like every Arcane party, let's be fair.” She paused. “What about it?”
Ruthenia drew a deep breath. “Well, to keep a really long story short, I asked for an invitation and got approved. So, I'm attending. The wedding.”
For half a minute, the girl gaped back. “A lord’s wedding?” she breathed. “Lord Anio's wedding? How? Why?”
“I'm there on a diplomatic mission,” she said. “To talk to the kings. My boss needs my help. But I don’t want to—you know—to do anything that might make me look crass while I’m at it.” She shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “And you've always been one of Miss Kelde's better students, so I'm wondering if you could er, teach me.”
Hollia had grabbed both her hands. “Of course! Of course I'll help you, Ruth—but I don’t understand, how did it happen? Tell me everything!”
“Well, how else,” she replied. “Our classmate, the brother of King Aligon, gets to invite an honorary guest. And he just so happens to owe me a favour or two, so…”
“So you’re attending as his partner?”
Ruthenia frowned. “No, I'm an honorary guest. A plus-one?”
“Oh, Ruth!” Hollia sang. “The Arcane Prince brings a different date to every big fancy event. You know that, right?”
Ruthenia sat there and gaped. Then she slapped her forehead. “Oh, you're kidding me! This isn't what I asked for!” She sagged, teeth gritted together. “Ugh, it's the only chance I have to see the kings. But…oh, that conniving bastard is going to get it from me!”
“I'm so excited for you,” Hollia giggled. “Don’t you worry, you'll be grand, long as you follow the rules .” Ruthenia pursed her lips and nodded. “Well, why don’t you meet me on Sunday? We can get you sorted then.”
*
Ruthenia cornered Aleigh on the mezzanine that afternoon.
“You didn’t say anything about me attending as a partner!” she burst out.
At this he frowned. “No, I am inviting you as an honorary guest. There's no specific meaning attached to it. My brother uses his to invite his favourite ministers all the time.”
“Maybe it doesn't mean anything for Aligon, but you. You! Hollia said you bring a different partner to every dinner!”
“Oh.” He sighed deeply. “Why else do you think Aligon handpicks them? I don't usually ask anyone along. So he finds me some young noblewoman or some minister's daughter to make me look more…popular.” He accompanied the last word with a tired glance to a side. “So, yes, I suppose there will be some who will misconstrue the arrangement. But if you behave like yourself, then it's hard to imagine anyone would truly believe you're my partner.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Is that a backhanded insult?”
“No, I am sincerely saying that you are too lowborn to be perceived as eligible.”
She groaned. “Yeah, yeah, at least that's good for one thing.” She folded her arms. “So, how will you have me behave on the day?”
“However you want,” he answered. “But you must always keep in mind that you are attending by my grace. It cannot be helped that your actions will reflect upon me.”
Ruthenia pouted. “Fine,” she said. Around them, the bustle of students rushed to fill the silence. She watched the other cafeteria-goers cross the mezzanine, or proceed with their meals, barely touching her own.
*
The next evening, Ruthenia found a white envelope on Tanio's dining table, sealed with red wax, addressed to her. She did not have to open it to know what it contained. Taking it back to her shed, she slipped it into her drawer of certificates and letters, heart suddenly beating in her throat.
Ruthenia had not expected Lord Anio’s wedding to haunt her in this way. As she lay awake in her hammock, she scripted a dozen versions of the initial greeting she would employ with Aligon—then scrapped them all—and imagined in her head a hundred different dresses, none of them looking right to her.
She clutched her head. “This isn’t supposed to be hard!” she shouted as eleven o’clock became midnight. She flipped in her hammock, setting it swinging.