Hearts of Smoke and Steam (The Society of Steam, Book Two) by Mayer Andrew P

Author:Mayer, Andrew P. [Mayer, Andrew P.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Prometheus Books
Published: 2011-11-14T16:00:00+00:00

“If you would just tell us your secrets, we can fly together.” Nathaniel ran his hand along the shining wing, and then gave the metal a soft tap with his index finger. The metal rang out in response.

Hughes frowned at him. “Talking to it won't help. Hitting it, either…”

“But we're getting close, aren't we?” he replied with a grin. “I can feel it.”

“We'll see,” the man replied, and bent back over the machine.

The two of them had spent a good deal of time together over the last few weeks. Hughes was an unlikely partner, but together they had begun to unravel the secrets of Darby's technology and restore the new Turbine costume to working order.

The suit had been broken during the battle at the Darby mansion months ago, and had remained that way since that day. Although his previous costume was still fully functional, Nathaniel had known from the moment he had first put it on that this model was clearly superior to the older one. He had felt the power it contained and despaired that he would never get it back.

So far, getting the suit into the air had proved to be a failed endeavor, although the work to make it function had born some fruit. Darby had forced Nathaniel to gain a passable understanding of the principles behind the outfit before he had let him fly it, but the new suit had proved far trickier to decipher than the old one. A number of elements simply seemed to defy explanation as to their working, while at the same time being obviously integral to making it function.

Having reached a dead end on his own, he had asked William Hughes to help him—the man was becoming a proficient student of Darby's designs, and he was surprisingly skillful at charting out the old man's intentions. He had restored a few broken machines to full function since the fire, and Nathaniel was grudgingly glad for Hughes's assistance, and that was something he would not have been able to say about the man only a few months ago.

There were other positive changes since Hughes had lost the ability to fight as the Iron-Clad in the fire; a great deal of his overt anger seemed to have vanished, although off-handed condemnations of everyone and everything seemed to spill out of his mouth at regular intervals, with a large number of them reserved for posthumous scorn for Sir Dennis Darby.

Nathaniel had spent the better part of the morning trying to ignore Hughes's particularly scathing statements about the departed Sir Dennis's “needless complexity” as they tried to uncover exactly what a series of damaged feed tubes were supposed to be feeding.

Nathaniel peered over Hughes's shoulder, checking what he was up to. “I think that's right.” All they needed was a single clue from beyond the grave to bring this jumble of mysterious tubes and wires into focus. But the dead tended to stay quiet, especially when they were being continually cursed.

Hughes connected that last wire and leaned back slightly into his harness.

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