Rebel Magisters (Rebel Mechanics #2)(5)

“I make frequent visits.”

I gave my best impression of the kind of trilling, lighthearted laugh Flora and her friends used when they attempted to sound witty at parties. “And you just happened to run into me in the park when I was taking an afternoon walk. What an extraordinary coincidence!” More seriously, and with an edge to my voice, I said, “What is it you need, Alec? I thought you’d learned that it’s best to be straightforward with me. We’re long past the point of playing coy games with each other.”

He offered his arm to me. “Would you care to join me for a turn around the park, Miss Newton?” In a whisper, he added, “For appearances.”

I stared at his arm for a long moment, as one might contemplate a potentially venomous snake, before I took it, and we began strolling. “We’re doing quite well,” he said, speaking softly and tilting his head toward mine in the manner of a young man courting his girl. “I won’t tell you exactly where we are, but we’re out of reach of the British government. We’re still working on our machines, and we believe we’ve proved that they might help equalize us against the magisters, so the revolution stands a chance of succeeding, but it will take far more than one or two steam engines and an airship. What we have are merely prototypes. We need to produce dozens—even hundreds—of them in order to make a difference.”

“You’d need a factory,” I said.

“Yes, and raw materials. Lots of steel. Coal for furnaces. People to do the work. All that requires funding. Since we’re doing this in secret as part of a revolution, we can hardly go to the bank for a loan, and we won’t be selling anything we make, so there will be no profits for investors, until perhaps after we win and we turn these machines to civilian uses. We’ll need them then for power other than magic once we kick the magisters out.”

“Wars are rather expensive. That’s part of why taxes are so high. Just maintaining a military presence throughout the Empire must take tremendous amounts of money.”

“Exactly. What we want to do will take almost as much money as running a small country, but we can’t collect taxes to pay for it. We’re all poor—part of the reason we’re rebelling—so we can’t fund ourselves. Which is why I wanted to talk to you.”

I was afraid I knew what he would ask of me, but I pretended I didn’t and said, “You think an article in the newspaper might help?”

“Not to the extent we need. I thought you might talk to your employer. The Masked Bandits might be the only ones who could raise that kind of capital, and they’ve already been helping fund our activities.”

I stopped abruptly and faced him. “Absolutely not.” I surprised even myself with how vehement my protest was. “Do you realize the amount of money you’re asking for? Robbing a train a day wouldn’t be enough, and that would be far too dangerous. They’d surely be caught. As a matter of fact, the Bandits are taking some time off because one of them did get caught. They need to throw off suspicion. I can’t possibly ask Lord Henry to take that kind of risk.”

“I think he should get the chance to say no for himself, don’t you?”

I had protested when Henry didn’t want me running errands for him because he wanted to keep me safe. Was my refusal to even ask him if he was willing or interested the same thing? “I’ll talk to him,” I said, grudgingly. “He may have other ideas. I know he’s as committed to revolution as you are, and he’d be pleased that you’re finally being practical about it instead of just making a lot of noise.”

“That’s all I want, for you to ask. Even if he has nothing to offer but advice, we’d be grateful. It would be that much more we owe him.”

“It is interesting how much more you like the magisters when they have something to offer you,” I remarked dryly.

“Well, maybe if more of them were as generous as your Lord Henry, we wouldn’t be plotting revolution. And maybe there are a few who aren’t bad sorts.”

“Didn’t you once say something about how magic corrupts people?”

“Maybe not everyone, but look at the evidence all around us.” His gesture encompassed the mansions nearby and the magical roadsters humming down the park paths with little regard for pedestrians.

I bit my lip to keep myself from saying anything as we resumed strolling. He still didn’t know about my magical heritage, and I wondered what he would think about it. He was willing to ask Henry for help, but I doubted he’d ever see Henry as a friend. If he cared at all for me now, I wasn’t sure that esteem would continue if he knew my secret.

“I’m sure you’ll manage to find me to learn what Lord Henry has to say,” I said, my voice sounding stiff and a little frosty.

“And you know where to go so I can find you. Failing that, you know the usual places to leave word.”

“Do you want the article, as well? I know most of your followers are poor, but pennies can add up.”

“Write something and we’ll see.” He turned to face me, looking earnestly at me in the way that used to set my heart aflutter—which had been carefully calculated to achieve that effect, I reminded myself. There was still a tiny involuntary reaction, because few girls are entirely immune to being looked at that way, but it wasn’t the same. “I do appreciate this, Verity.”