Beyond the Cogs by Elle Beaumont

Author:Elle Beaumont
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Midnight Tide Publishing

Twilight seemed to dome off the city as steam stacks rose to meet the stars.

I was far below them, gazing up at a brilliant sky from the ambient glow of a steam light post. The city is quiet, all but the whir and stir of copper pipes that spread out from every home and building like spiderwebs as they root their way down into cobblestone roadway. The alley I emerged from sat blackened and hollow beside me as I removed a long, narrow cigarette from my jacket and placed it between my pursed lips like a gentle, deadly kiss. From that darkness just beyond my vision, sirens bloomed, and footsteps pounded against the streets giving me the notion that it would only be a matter of time until they got a little too curious about this alleyway.

That is fine, I told myself.

From another pocket I removed the flicker-clicker; a small oval object of brass with steam tubes no larger than a hornet antenna. These tubes weaved into the marble-sized Scorch Attunement orb and crept like ivy up to the surface, producing a small but controlled flame. I pushed the wrapped tobacco to the flame and let the smoke perform a luxurious ballet over my taste buds. It pirouetted down into my lungs, where it had a brief intermission before performing the routine in reverse. The gray plume fell from my lips and climbed into the twinkling sky as the sirens scream louder in the distance.

A two-seater locomoti-cart pulled up with a grind and hiss, and a burly man poked his head out of the driver’s side window. His steam stack gives two identical piercing shouts in succession which he accented with a half-cocked grin.

“Hey, pal, need a lift?” he asked in a voice that resembled stones scratching together, and the whistle of the steam engine capped off his sentence.

I shrugged and took a minute to size the man up, looking him over for signs of imminent danger. That’s just how I am, cautious and collected. If I had not been, I would not have made it as far as I have. The translucent rainbow orb in my jacket would prove that.

The driver had a bushy beard of blossoming brown coils that wrapped the bottom half of his melon-shaped head. A small set of bronze-rimmed glasses, with several interchangeable magnifying lenses, sat on a bulbous red nose and rested under bushy brows. His smile was kind, but the chest hair finding new life sprouting from his tunic told me he didn’t care all too much about appearances. While a grin and rosy cheeks may seem a warm welcome, a smile is an accessory worn just as a necklace would be to some people. People like me, for instance.

I smiled in return.

My bowler cap was removed from my head as I took a bow, swiftly catching it with a graceful hand out of overbearing showmanship. The driver chuckled, and he acknowledged with a tip of his tall, burgundy top hat that was embellished with decorative copper gears.

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