All Men of Genius

XXVI.



THEY kept mapping the basement for the next few nights. The map was developing nicely, though they still had yet to rediscover the train or the mysterious automata and the door they guarded. Miriam had been leading the group on this endeavor, and Violet had been impressed. She had been encouraging and energetic, the romantic figure of the lady privateer that one usually found only in books, hair windswept, skirts worn and rippling with movement. And they had mapped a lot. It seemed the basement did have a few levels, though there were no stairs, only sloping halls, so it was hard to tell if they were one level below the ground or two, unless they were looking at the map. Every night, Violet came back to the room and, after bathing, translated her rough charcoal map into a more elegant one of ink and parchment, which she kept rolled up in the closet, so Oscar wouldn’t eat it.

Something had been bothering Violet. Since seeing the rusted gears in the basement and remembering their purpose, it had been like a feather tickling the ear of her memory. She lay in bed, flipping through her books on Illyria, trying to find the section on the basement. Finally, in the third book she tried, she found it, several pages into the description of the college’s creation: “… construction of the basement was overseen by the engineer Adam Volio, an old school chum of the duke’s…” She leapt up off the bed.

“F*ck!” Oscar, alarmed by the sudden movement, hopped off Jack’s bed and under it.

“What?” Jack, who had been feeding him carrots, asked, looking up at her. She thrust the book in his face and pointed at the line. He read it. “Well, now we know how the little bugger got into the school,” he said, “though I don’t see how it helps us.”

“Bugger-balls?” said Oscar cautiously, sticking his head out from under the bed.

“Yes,” Jack said, holding out a carrot. “C’mere.” He wiggled the carrot, and Oscar leapt back onto the bed, took it from his hand, and began nibbling it.

“It helps,” Violet said, “because it means Volio must know the basement—he probably has a map or something. I’d say the automata were his, but they could be his brother’s. Certainly it explains how his brother hid everything when he was a student here. I’ll bet Volio is hiding things down there, too. The automata are his … security or somesuch.”

“That seems like a leap to me,” Jack said, petting Oscar. “I mean, yeah, it would make sense that Volio is the son or grandson of this Volio”—he pointed at the book—“but we can’t prove that. And do you really think there could be a place in Illyria so secret that even the duke didn’t know about it? I mean, his da’ oversaw the construction of the college, too. I don’t think there’s much he doesn’t know.”

“Then maybe he does know. Maybe he’s sanctioning it for some reason.”

“Don’t trust your lover?”

Violet felt herself blush crimson. “He’s not my lover!”

“I’ve seen you reread his letters at least seven times now,” Jack said.

“I was studying them,” Violet said quickly, “so as to argue my points better when answering his questions.”

“Shite,” said Oscar.

“I agree with Oscar,” Jack said, “I don’t see why you need to deny it. Love, my dear Violet, is a beautiful thing.”

“Shite,” repeated Oscar.

“Hush,” Jack said, stroking Oscar’s ears. “Well, whether you love him or you don’t,” he said, “do you really think him capable of assisting Volio? Anyone can see Volio is a blight on Illyria.”

“Maybe he’s being blackmailed,” Violet said. “It seems to be a much more common occurrence than I had once thought.”

Jack shrugged. “It doesn’t explain Curio, and what he’s doing down there,” he said.

“Oh, bugger,” said Oscar.

“I suppose not,” Violet said, sitting back down on her bed. Oscar, done with his carrot, hopped off Jack’s bed and onto Violet’s and nestled against her, burrowing his head into her waist. She reached down and petted his soft, floppy ears.

“But it’s something,” Jack said, trying to be encouraging.

“We’ll see what the others make of it tomorrow.”

Jack nodded. “So, you think Fiona will nab Drew?”

“Probably. I got a letter from her today. She sent it to the house in town, but Ashton sent it along. She wants to know about his … bedroom proclivities.”

Jack laughed and clapped his hands. “She’d be a cad if she were a bloke.”

“How am I supposed to ask Drew about that?”

“I’ll do it,” Jack said. “Hell, he’s already said a few things, and I can guess the rest.”

“He has?”

“Sure. You’re just not listening proper. It’s the way we menfolk talk. When he says he likes a girl with shape to her, it means he likes a large bosom. Which, luckily, Fiona has in spades.”

“Ah,” Violet said. She felt herself blushing slightly, so she looked down at Oscar, who had fallen asleep. “Well, you write it down, then. I certainly don’t want to hear about it.”

“You’re a funny one,” Jack said. “You can swear like a man now, and swagger like one, but when it comes to talking about f*cking, you clam up and turn red.”

“I’m a virgin, Jack. The rest of you are not. It’s a different matter for men.”

Jack considered this, then nodded. “I suppose that’s true. I guess you’re so good at the rest of it, that I’m starting to forget you’re just a proper lady underneath it all.” Violet glared at him. “What? You don’t think you are? Wasn’t that you in the lovely gowns caroling with us at Christmas?”

“That was different. I wasn’t always so proper,” Violet said.

“Mm,” Jack said, sounding as if he didn’t quite believe her, pulling the blankets up over himself to go to sleep. Violet rolled her eyes, took the books off her bed, and lay down as well.

“Bugger,” Oscar said, waking up, and hopped off the bed. Violet turned out the light and lay down in bed. Jack was already snoring softly.

She fell asleep and dreamt of caroling with the duke and a troupe of musical automata in a snow-filled basement, Ernest smiling at her over the music.

* * *



AT breakfast the next morning, she told Drew and Toby about the Volio link. Toby nodded slowly, eating his toast. “Helps explain why he’s such a prick.”

“Doesn’t it also mean that he’s responsible for the automata in the basement—that they’re his brother’s leftovers from when he marched an army of them out of here?” Violet shuddered to think of the mechanical demons again, and the cold, violent intellect behind them.

“I dunno, Ash,” Toby said. “I mean, it could be that, sure, but this is Illyria. Could be from anything, really. But I do like the idea that Volio is behind it. Then we can get him in trouble. Although,” he continued, rubbing his shoulder where his wound had healed, “I don’t like the idea of his being in control of a bunch of the aforementioned killer automata. What do you think, Drew?”

“Hm?” Drew said. He had not been asleep, but staring dreamily into space.

“He’s thinking about that Fiona again,” Toby said. “Never thought I’d see the day Drew fell for a lady twice his age, but I can say quite certainly that older women are often a good bit of fun. Less squealing, more experience.” He laughed loudly and elbowed Drew, who looked at him, confused.

Violet looked at Drew, a bit baffled by the effect Fiona had had on him. She had been out drinking with them two nights now, she and Drew talking quietly together while the rest of them had planned further expeditions into the basement. Violet didn’t feel quite so guilty for feeding Fiona information anymore—Drew seemed happy, after all. Perhaps it would be best if everyone’s friends told potential mates the best way to please them.

Breakfast ended, and they went off to reckoning, where Professor Prism flipped the many lenses on his glasses back and forth several times while watching the students feed information into the great analytical engines. Violet found the whole class dull. Create a sheet of metal representing the information and the question and give it to a machine to decipher without doing any actual problem solving yourself. It was like looking into a crystal ball, but with none of the mystique and a lot more heat. It made sense to her that Roger Fairfax was so enthusiastic about it, and always finished early, though he never helped his classmates once he finished. After all, it was a lazy sort of science, and Fairfax was a spoiled and lazy man. The creation of the engines, improving on them, and teaching them new ways to solve new, more complex problems—all the realm of Lady Byron—were things that sounded exciting to Violet, but these subjects would not be approached until her second year. If she had a second year.

Prism looked at the answer Violet’s machine had given her—an estimate of the number of Catholics that would be living in London in three years’ time—and nodded before clicking another lens of his glasses down. Violet sighed and went to help Jack, who was actually quite dreadful at using the analytical engines. With Violet’s help, he managed to finish by lunch.

Lunch was mostly spent mulling over their plans to further inspect the basement that evening. Drew would not be going with them—he and Fiona were going to “test perfumes” at a hotel. Without Miriam, their plans were only halfhearted, and conversation soon turned to teasing Drew about what sort of perfumes he planned to test, and where on Fiona’s body. Violet spent much of the time blushing, laughing occasionally, then blushing some more.

In the mechanical lab, Violet’s creation had become so large that it now sat in the corner covered with a cloth while she worked on additional pieces. It was all coming together smoothly, and she noted with pleasure that Volio would sometimes look up at her creation in the corner and glare at the sheet nervously before going back to his own work, which he always kept out of sight.

Cecily visited and bent over all of Violet’s pieces, inspecting them, while Miriam stood in the corner. “It’s really looking wonderful, Ashton,” Cecily said when she was finished.

“Thank you,” Violet said. “Though I still have loads of work to do. You’re really driving me to work harder since you built the engine.”

“You built the engine.”

“You made the material. We should test this part, though,” Violet said. The part in question was a door mechanism that would cover the driver, shielding her from harm. The doors had been constructed and mounted on a platform, but they needed to close tightly and lock with the press of a button. “Go around and stand on the other side of the doors,” Violet said, “and I’ll stand here and activate them. Tell me if they don’t look right.”

“Okay,” Cecily said, and stood in front of the doors, inspecting them. Violet went through them, then turned to face them as well. Cecily waved, though they were only a few feet apart. Violet grinned, then hit the button.

A loud, horrible shrieking noise arose from the doors as they tried to close. One of them seemed to twist from the inside, and began to fall forward, off its rails, onto Cecily. Cecily screamed, and Violet tried to run around the doors to get to her in time, but when she got there, Cecily was already safely out of the way, with Miriam’s arm around her waist. The crushed door fell to the ground with a clang. In the back of the lab, Violet saw Volio leering at her failure and snickering. She resisted the urge to spit at him.

“Sorry,” Violet said, “I’m so sorry. That should have worked.”

“It’s all right,” Cecily said. “Worse has happened. And Miriam saved me. Thank you, Miriam.”

“Mon plaisir,” Miriam said, brushing dust off her dress. “But next time, stand a little farther back, please?”

Violet let her shoulders shrug, and felt tears pricking at her eyes. She was not used to failure. “I’m really sorry, Cec,” she said again.

“It’s not your fault, Ashton,” Cecily said, laying a hand on Violet’s arm. “There was an error. It happens. I should have stood farther back, like Miriam said. No need to be so upset.”

“It’s just been hard, what with being up so late,” Violet said, and yawned. “But I’m going to finish it in time. I know I will.”

“Why have you been up so late?” Cecily asked.

“We’re mapping the basement,” Violet said, not really thinking. Miriam coughed loudly and shot Violet a look. Violet realized what she had just said.

“After hours?” Cecily asked.

“You won’t tell, will you?” Violet asked, looking up.

“Of course not,” Cecily said. “How could you think I would? We’re friends. And I keep my friend’s confidences. Have you found anything interesting down there?”

“No,” Violet said with a sigh, “nothing yet. The wall of gears, is all. It’s a huge basement. Nearly bigger than Illyria proper, I’d wager.”

“I remember you said your initiation was frightening.” Cecily said, “I can understand the need to map the cellar, though. If my cousin knew, he might actually be pleased.” Violet looked at her anxiously. “But I won’t tell him, don’t worry.” Cecily smiled and batted her eyes brightly. “Anyway, I’d best be off. You have lots of work to do, and I think the wrench I made from the formula should be ready by now. I hope it works.”

“I’m sure it will,” Violet said, turning back to her work. She was so very tired.

“Good-bye,” Cecily said.

“Bye, Cecily,” Violet said, and nodded at Miriam, too, whose lips were pressed tightly together in a look of mild annoyance.

* * *



“YOU shouldn’t have told her about the map,” Miriam said to Violet that night in the basement.

“I know,” Violet said. “I’m very sorry. I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Well, I think she’s in love with you enough that she won’t mention it to anyone. But she does like to talk.” Violet and Miriam were leading, Miriam with torch in hand, Violet with her light-box around her neck, while Toby and Jack walked a bit behind, still making jokes about perfume testing. They were exploring what Miriam had said was the western part of the basement.

“I’m really very sorry, Miriam,” Violet repeated.

“You were tired and distracted,” Miriam said. “I know a bit about that.”

Miriam stopped as they came to an intersection and shone her torch down each passage. Violet saw something reflect down one of them. “There,” she said, pointing. Miriam headed toward the reflection.

As they stepped into the room, the air around them changed, their footsteps echoing differently. Miriam’s torch traced the object. It was the train. They were in the station as before, but the lights that were on earlier in the year had died out, leaving the station dark. There was a faint sound of rushing water from the tunnel beyond the train, but the train blocked the way, fitting the entrance to the tunnel like a key in a lock.

“The train,” Violet said, making a note on her map.

“I didn’t imagine it was this big,” Miriam said, shining the torch around. The station was huge. Violet had forgotten how huge. Their steps echoed in the emptiness of it, and the air was chilly and smelled of water.

“Think you can make it work?” Jack asked.

“Do you think I should?” Violet said. No one answered her, but they all silently headed for the train. It was beautifully designed, like a smooth cylinder of copper, with benches along either side, lined in moldy red velvet. There were windows and chairs facing out both ends.

“Monorail,” Violet said, looking around. They had all piled inside it now. An open arch was the only exit onto the platform, and it didn’t have a door attached. In front of the back chairs were a series of levers and switches. Violet handed the light-box to Jack and sat down at one of them. Miriam shone her torch on the console while Violet examined it. Like the train, the design was smooth and beautiful. The switches looked as though they were incapable of rusting. But Violet couldn’t figure out what the power source was. There was no engine she could see, no place to feed coal, no key to turn. She tried one of the switches and the lights in the train went on, flickering a little. The train was now lit from the inside.

“That’s something,” Toby said.

“Electric,” Violet said, impressed. The train was old. Electricity was just being experimented with when it was made. An electric motor seemed highly unlikely, but the lights suggested that it was possible. Violet stood and examined the floor for a hatch or panel, hoping to find an electric motor underneath, but there was nothing but wires and tubes. She went outside the train, looking for an external power source. The others followed her in silence. She could not find anything to make the train go.

“Ashton, it’s really late,” Jack said. “You’ve been at this for two hours.” Violet looked up at him, confused. Had it really been that long?

“We should go,” Miriam said, nodding. “We’ll take tomorrow off. You need your sleep, Ashton. I’m sure you’ll be able to figure this out when you’re rested.”

“Yes,” Violet said. Her eyes did feel tired. “Of course.”

She turned the lights in the train off, and they left the station, Jack leading the way, Violet half-asleep. Their footsteps echoed in the train station.

They had walked about ten minutes, and were probably only another ten minutes from the lift back to the college, when Jack stopped dead in his tracks and hissed, “Listen.”

The rest of them stopped, Violet swaying with exhaustion on her feet. A faint stomping noise could be heard, growing louder and louder.

“The automata?” Miriam whispered. Toby nodded. The echoing of the halls made it hard to tell where the sound was coming from, so they froze in the middle of the passage, moving their torches back and forth, looking for the source of the noise.

“There!” Jack shouted, catching sight of metal reflecting off his torch. The first of a line of at least six automata marched down the hall toward them with frightening purpose and speed.

“Run!” cried Toby, and darted down the hall away from the marching metal soldiers. The others followed, but Violet was dizzy, her energy spent on exploring the train, and she lagged behind. The others were ahead of her, and she was frightened. Her heart was pounding, but not fast enough to lift the great weight of her feet, and the automata were gaining on her, their talons out in front of them and gleaming.

And then she tripped. She felt her foot catch on a loose stone in the floor, and she fell forward and to the side, crashing into the wall of the hallway and rolling down it, so she lay against the edge of it. She was stretched out and vulnerable, and the first of the monsters was upon her. She would be gutted like a fish. A taloned hand would reach down and tear her open from her gut to her chin, slice through bone and all the major organs, and the automaton wouldn’t even need to stop moving. It would be bloody, painful, and over in moments. She took a deep breath and flinched as the line approached her.

But nothing happened. Violet squinted as the line marched by her in perfect unison, apparently taking no notice of her. She counted the pairs of gleaming metal feet—a dozen. All of them marched by her and continued down the hall.

“Ashton?” came a voice. She pushed herself up and looked for its source. Jack and the others poked their heads from around a corner a few yards down the hall. The creatures had passed them by, too.

“I’m okay,” she said. They ran to her, helping her up. “Just bruised, I promise,” she said. “They didn’t hurt me. I don’t know if they even saw me.”

Jack propped Violet’s arm around his neck and his arm around her waist so she could lean on him and walk.

“They were marching,” Miriam said. “Military formation.”

“But they ignored us,” Toby said.

“Practice,” Miriam said. “Drills. My husband used to march like that. Ignore everything, march forward, prepare for war.” Her words hung in the air, silent except for their ragged breathing.

“They’ve never acted quite like that before,” Jack said.

“A malfunction?” Toby asked hopefully. “I mean, they’re not invading Illyria or anything.”

They looked around at each other and silently walked to the lift. It was empty. The automata were nowhere to be seen.

“Not a malfunction, maybe,” Violet said, leaning on Jack. “Maybe just patrolling the area. Could be that’s what they were designed for originally—keeping the basement safe.”

“Then wouldn’t they have attacked us?” Miriam asked.

“It’s not how they behaved before,” Toby said. “And I don’t like it.”

“Should we tell someone?” Jack asked.

“What, that we’ve been sneaking into the basement and we found some marching mechanical creatures?” Toby said. “People would just laugh—say that’s part of Illyria, and what were we doing down there, anyway?”

“I need to go to sleep,” Violet said. She could feel herself falling asleep on Jack’s shoulder. “My brother says we all think better after we’ve slept,” she said, and closed her eyes.

“Brother?” Miriam asked.

“He means his cousin, I’m sure,” Jack said. “He’s like a brother.” Violet wanted to open her eyes, but she couldn’t. There was silence.

“Sleep, then,” Toby said. “We’ll come back to work on the train later, maybe. And if we see the automata again … we’ll figure it out then. Maybe it was just a fluke.”

“J’espère ainsi.” Miriam said, and helped the mostly sleeping Violet onto the lift. “But in any case, let’s wait awhile before coming back—at least until Ashton is recovered enough.” Jack and Toby nodded, and they all went to their respective rooms. Violet fell asleep almost immediately, but the rest of them stayed awake awhile longer, staring into the individual darknesses of their bedrooms.