It was too much. Tobias needed light and cheerful noise before melancholy pulled him under. "Shall we get out of here? There's got to be a club with comfortable chairs and a proper fire." Tobias tossed off his wine and rose, promising himself he would talk about Imogen if his friend wanted it-just not here.

With a groan, Bucky followed and before long they were back in the alley, picking their way through the smelly grime between buildings. Tobias fingered his Webley again, feeling only slightly better with company along.

Unfortunately, the ghosts of SPIE trailed after, poking at memories of afternoons building machines, drawing plans, drinking, joking. There had been four members: Tobias, Bucky, Captain Diogenes Smythe, and Michael Edgerton.

"Do you even talk to Smythe anymore?" Tobias asked as they walked side by side.

"I don't," Bucky said evenly. "We fought a duel over your sister, remember? And he's away with his regiment most of the time. I do see Edgerton now and again. We took flying lessons together. We're both qualified to pilot a private dirigible now."

Tobias cast him a sidelong look, suddenly worried. "Edgerton is rather on the wrong side of the law these days."

"Only because his father's ironworks in Sheffield fell afoul of the Scarlet King."

Tobias stepped around a suspicious puddle. "I've heard he's thrown in with the rebels."

"Edgerton's family was ruined, the way yours would have been if you hadn't gone to work for the Gold King." Bucky paused, his broad shoulders tensing. "The way mine well might be. Both my father and I work in the Gold King's territories, for all he's in Yorkshire and my concerns are in London."

They were on Bond Street now, walking southeast in the vague direction of St. James's Park. It was drizzling faintly, not quite enough to admit that they were getting wet. Pa.s.sersby walked in twos and threes under the gold-tinted gaslights, but it was nothing like the crowds of even six months ago. There weren't many women, and fewer still looked respectable. That, more than anything, spoke to public unease.

Tobias considered Bucky's statement, wondering where this conversation would lead. "Your father's always been on good terms with the steam barons. He makes firearms and beer. Everyone loves that."

"But he's come under pressure to double his production, and he's wondering why the Gold King is ordering so many shipments of arms. He wants to know if there is any truth to the rumors of war with Bohemia."

"And you think I know the answer? Is that really why you asked me here tonight?"

"Not particularly, but I thought I might as well ask the question." Bucky shrugged, the motion stiff with embarra.s.sment. "You're the Gold King's chief maker. You married his daughter. You would know if something was coming."

"My esteemed father-in-law doesn't tell me everything." What was more, Tobias didn't like being lumped together with the Gold King's camp. It made him feel soiled. "I haven't heard anything about a foreign war. And why would we invade Bohemia, anyway?"

Bucky's brow furrowed. "Then the war's to be at home? My father doesn't fancy making guns to blow up his countrymen. If that's the case, he'll refuse."

"As I said, I don't know everything." Tobias was about to add that denying the Gold King anything at all was a very bad idea-but he never got the chance.

A fleet of Steamers careened down the street, the tall back wheels churning with a skull-splitting rattle. Engines belched smoke and steam out the high, crooked exhaust pipes, fogging the streets in a foul cloud. Bucky coughed. "What are they burning in those things? Old libraries?"

"They look like the types," Tobias replied.

Black-masked youths crowded every one of the vehicles, and those who wouldn't fit inside were draped over the roofs and clinging to the doors. They let out a loud, trilling yell as they sped down the street. A very few years ago, that was me.

Tobias counted five Steamers and probably thirty young men and women, though it was hard to tell. They had just about reached Piccadilly when the vehicles stopped so abruptly some of the hangers-on lost their grip and flew into the street. The rest dropped off like ticks abandoning a dog, pulling the doors open to let their fellows out. They ran away from the vehicles, leaving the Steamers puffing uselessly in the middle of the street. In a span of seconds, the road was jammed with masked youths.

"Hardly Bond Street quality," Bucky muttered.

He was right. There were plenty of silks and velvets, but none of it matched or fit. Instead, it appeared to have been pilfered from a theater's castoffs. There were broad-brimmed cavalier hats crowned with sweeping feathers, Punchinello's puffy breeches, and ragged uniforms straight from Waterloo. One girl wore a ballerina's spangled costume and thigh-high boots, her hair flying loose in the wind.

One young man leaped into their path, threw back his head, and howled like a wolf. Tobias winced.

"I didn't know lycanthropy was a problem in these parts," Bucky said dryly, unb.u.t.toning his jacket to be fisticuff-ready.

Tobias snorted. "The moon isn't even full. We're clearly dealing with amateurs."

Oblivious to the critique, the howler ceased to bay at the gaslights and lolloped off.

The respite was short-lived. One of the Steamer crowd pulled a cricket bat from the back of his vehicle and swung it experimentally even as he loped toward a draper's shop window. And then he shattered the gla.s.s in one mighty swing, roaring with glee as shards flew into the street. He wasn't alone. Bats, sticks, and canes of all kinds appeared and the crashing of windows came from every side, punctuated by the shriek of a constable's whistle.

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l!" roared Bucky, surging into the fray. He grabbed the cricket bat out of the man's hand and thumped the vandal over the head.

Tobias was half a step behind, using the b.u.t.t of the Webley to fend off attackers. Fighting beside Bucky was a bit like guarding the back of a rampaging bear, but it was a role Tobias had played a hundred times back in school. For all his mild manners, Buckingham Penner was a full-steam-ahead kind of fighter with little regard for sneak attacks from behind.

A plump young woman in a black mask was leaning in through the broken window of the draper's shop, dragging bolts of silk into the road and dumping them into the mud. Tobias didn't stop to wonder why-this was just pure mayhem. Disgust surged through him until he could almost taste it at the back of his tongue. He grabbed her by the scruff and shoved her away, letting her get a good look at the Webley. Her mouth made a startled O the instant before she fled, one hand holding a purple velvet hat atop her unbound hair.

Distracted, Tobias didn't see the fist coming. He staggered sideways, careening into the bricks of the building. His opponent-a tall man with a scruffy mustache-closed in. Tobias got one foot up in time to thrust him back. There suddenly seemed to be too many people-ordinary people and coppers as well as the attackers. There was no way he could fire the gun without risking an innocent life. And then the man was back, a nasty little knife in one hand. Tobias smashed him in the mustache before he had a chance to use the blade.

Bucky appeared at his elbow, blood running into his eyes from a cut to his scalp. "I think it's time to go."

Tobias wiped his mouth to see his sleeve come away b.l.o.o.d.y. "Fine. Take me to a party and then insist we leave before I've paid my respects to our host."

Bucky nodded toward the end of the street. "At least one of our hosts is already in handcuffs. Best we go before we join him. I think half the constabulary in London is here."

"That was fast. Think someone tipped them off?" Tobias wondered aloud, surveying the crowd with suspicion. The road was packed curb to curb, but there was nothing festive about the feel. A low, ugly muttering had started. And then something caught his eye. "d.a.m.nation."

Bucky turned to follow Tobias's gaze. Another fleet of Steamers was arriving, twice as many as the first lot. Worse, the occupants were firing shotguns at the gaslights as they went, their aim perilously bad.

"Go," Bucky said. Tobias didn't argue.

They turned and dove into the crowd, fighting their way with elbows and fists toward Piccadilly. It was like trying to wade through a flock of panicked sheep. Tobias began to despair of ever getting through-but then he remembered the Steamers.

He hauled on Bucky's arm. "The one at the front. Get in."

"With dozens of coppers around?" Bucky asked incredulously.

"We're leaving. They'll be in favor of two less toffs to worry about." Tobias pushed him toward the Steamer closest to the corner. It was mobbed by the crowd, so it wasn't easy to open the door. Bucky managed, but Tobias gave up, grabbing the roof instead and lowering himself through the open window.

Although he didn't own a Steamer of his own, he'd driven them before. He released the brake, allowing it to roll forward slowly. Bucky leaned his head out the window. "Get out of the way! You with the bowler hat. Step aside, sir, please. Coming through."

He kept up the litany for a block, but eventually gave up. The riot had spread for a mile around. Tobias went with the flow of the mob, grateful for the steel walls around him but unable to turn aside. Progress was excruciatingly slow, especially when he was afraid of crushing someone beneath the wheels. They'd reached the edge of St. James's Park when the Steamer finally ran out of fuel. Tobias put on the brake and they got out.

"Are we any better off?" Tobias asked, taking stock around them. It was less crowded by the park, but he wasn't any closer to the safety of his bed.

"No one has tried to hit me in the last ten minutes." Bucky's scalp had stopped bleeding, but he looked a fright with blood smeared down his face. "I'll take what I can get."

Worry tugged at Tobias. He wasn't going to be happy until Bucky's wound was properly cleaned and bandaged. They were closest to his house, but it was still far away. However, his father-in-law had property all over London. "Keating Utilities has an office across the park. We can wait out this nonsense there."

"Are you sure that taking refuge on the Gold King's property is the best idea? Someone is bound to set it on fire."

"Since when are you so full of gloom?"

Bucky stopped, exasperation plain on his face. "Tobias, think about it. We don't want to go there."

"Why not?"

"Cast your mind back. SPIE was made up of four young, promising men of excellent education and deep pockets."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Think!"

"About what?" Tobias asked with a snarl. "Is this some convoluted point of logic?"

"I thought returning to the clubhouse might refresh your memory, but it seems you found that distasteful."

Tobias's mind ricocheted from one idea to another, not liking any of them. "Am I somehow to blame for something?"

His friend pressed on. "Smythe's regiment has been in chaos since the Scarlet King purchased them for his own private army. Edgerton's ruined. My father is well on his way to disaster. You're the only one still standing and that is due solely to the fact that you bowed down to Keating to keep the wolf from your family's door. The only people who do not loathe the steam barons are the barons themselves, and even they don't like each other."

A stinging mix of anger and shame shuddered down Tobias's spine. He clenched his jaw. "So what are you trying to tell me?"

"The rebellion isn't just talk anymore." Bucky raised his hands, silencing Tobias before he could interrupt. "This is my point. The longer you stand with Jasper Keating, the further away you are from the rest of us."

That stung worse than if Bucky had clipped him on the chin. "I joined his company because he was about to crush my father! Where would my mother and sisters have been then?"

Bucky nodded. "And now your wife is his daughter and your son his grandson. He has you trapped right and proper."

The logic infuriated Tobias, mostly because he'd known it from the start. Anger crackled over his skin, making it feel too tight. "What do you want?"

Bucky's expression wasn't hostile, but it was serious. "Someday I'm going to fight and you won't be at my back."

"Nonsense. I'm your friend. Who I work for doesn't change that."

"If you leave it too long, you won't have a choice anymore. If the Steam Council turns on the people, each of us is going to have to decide where we belong."

"And you're going to play the rebel? You won't even carry a gun," Tobias snapped. "Your father may own an arms factory, but you make toys for a living."

"I don't carry a gun because I'm too good a shot," Bucky said quietly. "But when I fire, I don't miss. I never want to find you in my sights."

"It's not that simple," Tobias shot back, feeling a need for justification.

Bucky shrugged. "No, but the barons are running out of time, and that means we won't have many more chances to talk before everything falls apart."

All at once a flash made them both fall silent. A bright light bloomed from the lake in the middle of the park. "What the bleeding h.e.l.l is that?" Tobias asked.

Bucky drew in his breath, probably to tell him he was avoiding the subject, but then let it out with a hiss as the glow grew stronger, like a small sun rising over the treetops. "Is that some kind of a dirigible?"

They hurried toward the apparition, anxious to see who was launching a craft in the middle of the city-on the night of a riot, no less-and why. Anyone with innocent intentions would have gone home and locked their doors.

At first, greenery blocked their view. All that Tobias could see was the netted curve of a balloon surrounded by a glow of light. And then the tip of a propeller came into view. "By G.o.d, it is some sort of airship," he exclaimed. They started to run to get a better view.

The first thing they encountered was a scatter of horses, carts, and running men-some of them armed-making for the street. That solved the mystery of how the thing had got there-and judging by the size and number of conveyances involved, there had been some a.s.sembly required at the last minute. Debris from the construction littered the sh.o.r.e of the lake. A handful of cheaply built rafts still floated on the water, spinning slowly in the current. Tobias tried to picture where the rafts came in, but was immediately distracted by the ship itself.

What rose above the lake was like nothing Tobias had ever seen. A graceful gold balloon suspended an enclosed body coated in bra.s.s. The balloon was augmented by ranks of steam-driven propellers heaving against the weight of their burden. Tobias immediately calculated the difficulty of lifting such a machine into the air and the fuel required to do it. Wherever the thing was meant to go, it wasn't far-maybe just a mile or two away.

The general shape of the thing was insectile, made up of three sections with the largest in the aft. Whirling propellers were set on rectangular frames attached to the midsection like wings. The entire body of the ship was studded with lights, making it glimmer in the night sky. Apparently, it was meant to be seen. But most disturbing was a long proboscis-like spike emerging from the prow. Tobias tried to make sense of the shape, and felt a headache coming on.

"What the f.e.c.kin' h.e.l.l?" muttered Bucky. "You say it, because I don't want to."

"It's a gigantic bra.s.s mosquito," Tobias replied as the thing lifted above the greenery.

"Why?"

The question really did sum it all up. Sadly, there was no good answer, so they increased their speed to race after it. They weren't the only ones. The mob that had followed the police to Bond Street earlier that night now turned like a giant, sluggish tide to flow in the direction of this latest apparition. But unlike the park, the streets were jammed. There was no possibility of the coppers catching up to the ship or the mischief-makers who had sent it into the sky.

Undoubtedly someone had tipped off the constabulary about the riots that night. It was the surest way to get them out of the way. How else did one launch a giant bug in the middle of a very public park, save by creating an even bigger distraction down the road?

The mosquito, and everyone else, was heading toward Westminster. The face of Big Ben loomed in the night sky like a gigantic clockwork G.o.d. A few tiny police balloons wafted into the air, looking rather like the bubbles in a champagne gla.s.s, but there was no hope of catching the intruder. Tobias watched with mounting horror as it powered along, propellers churning, toward the Palace of Westminster-and more specifically, for the Clock Tower.

Tobias and Bucky became tangled in the crowd as it funneled toward the east end of the park. Directly ahead, a carriage had become mired in the midst of the throng and the mare was whinnying in panic at the crush. They were more or less at a standstill.

Bucky dragged Tobias by the arm, pulling up against the side of a white stone building. Silent, they both watched with mute horror as the bra.s.s mosquito sailed steadily toward Big Ben. The symbolism of a blood-sucker nagged at Tobias's mind, but nowhere had he seen any indication of who was behind the attack. The anonymity of this action made everything worse.

The clock was chiming eleven, the huge bell bonging with cert.i.tude, the elegant hands uplifted against the illuminated face. And for a moment, Tobias thought the weight of majesty would be enough to protect the monument. The mosquito seemed to pause, lights shimmering against the dark sky, suspended by the vibrant voice of the bell.

And then it dove, nose skewering the gla.s.s.

"Blood and thunder!" Tobias couldn't hear it break at that distance, but he saw the flash of reflection in the lights of the attacking ship. A collective gasp of dismay went up from the crowd. The proboscis drove in deep, crushing clockwork as if it were tissue paper. Metal flew, arcing into the air, but it was hard to tell what was the clock and what was the ship. Even at that distance, Tobias could tell both were wrecks. The bell made an odd, choking ring and went silent. Then, the crowd's gasp became a roar as what had just happened soaked in.

The light from the Clock Tower winked out. Big Ben was dead, one side burdened by the bra.s.s monstrosity that had speared it. Then the ship's lights, too, flickered and went out.

Tobias was growing cold inside, as if he were being drained of blood. Westminster was the heart of the Gold King's territory, the jewel in his crown. Keating was going to be furious right down to the bottom of his spats. "You were wondering about a war?"

"But who did this?" Bucky waved at the spectacle in the sky, for all it was now shrouded in darkness. "Why put the Empire at risk with such a pointless gesture?"

Tobias closed his eyes for a long moment. Bucky was right. The steam barons distrusted one another, and once the balance of power between them tipped, every industry they owned-power, transportation, manufacturing, and even the brothels-would suffer. There would be chaos unless the culprit was found and dealt with in short order. Innocent people would be hurt.

For Tobias, this was bigger than picking sides. This was about protecting everyone he cared for. He handed Bucky the Webley. "You need to get home."

Bucky's brown eyes widened, but he took the gun. "What about you?"

Tobias looked over his shoulder at the clock. As the Gold King's maker, he had permission to poke his nose where he liked in Keating's territories. "I need to get up there and figure out who made that thing."

TENSION REIGNS AT THE PALACE.

Almost immediately after the attack on our beloved Big Ben, the Empire has suffered another blow. The Prince of Wales has taken to his bed with a sudden and serious illness. Some fear a return of typhoid, which nearly took his life in 1871, but unconfirmed reports claim palace physicians believe this to be a new malady. It is further said that they cannot discern its cause, much less prescribe a cure.

-The London Prattler.

London, September 19, 1889.