Rebel Magisters (Rebel Mechanics #2)(7)

“Books?” I asked, baffled by the abrupt change in topic.

Henry laughed and pointed at the net, which still looked like a fan. “Good work, Verity! You managed to maintain the illusion while you were distracted. Now let’s see how long it will last. Tea?”

Breathing a little heavily from my exertions, I wiped beads of sweat off my brow and said, “Please.”

“Then boil the water.”

I should have known better than to expect him to give me a break so soon. This was a tricky use of magic because it required finding just the right amount of heat. I’d already broken three teapots when I got it wrong. I activated the ether around and within the teapot, fighting to keep the excitement slow and under control. When steam came out of the spout, Henry measured tea into the pot, and I slumped back in my chair. The fan was flickering, but it was still visible. I allowed myself a small smile of triumph.

“Much better,” he said. “Perhaps I won’t have to order another box of teapots.”

When it appeared that I really was getting a break this time, I thought it might be an opportune time to bring up what Alec had asked me. “Some of the Mechanics are back in town. I ran into Alec in the park today.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Even after that narrow escape?”

“They believe that was more about the machines.” I tried to think of how best to phrase the next part. While I wanted to be honest with him, I preferred to steer him in the most reasonable direction. “They’ve taken what you said about playing at revolution to heart and are trying to plan rather than just making noise. They believe their machines really are the edge they need to defeat the magisters, but they need to make more machines, and for that they need funding. They asked me if you had any ideas.” I didn’t feel it too dishonest to avoid mentioning them wanting money from the Bandits. If Henry thought of that, it was up to him.

“Mass production of machines like that? Do they know how much that would cost?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I suppose they could start with some existing machines and fit them for new power supplies, so they wouldn’t have to start with smelting iron, but still, the materials, the facilities, and the manpower—well, they’re essentially creating a new industry. They wanted my input on this? Why? Because I’m the only rich person they know?”

Now I had no choice but to tell him. “Because you lead the Masked Bandits and have already been funding the cause, to some extent.” Before he could say anything, I hurried to add, “I told him that robbing trains wouldn’t raise that kind of money without you taking huge risks, and you’re lying low to avoid suspicion for now. He understood, but he wanted to see if you had other ideas.”

He stirred the teapot, poured through a strainer into two cups, added sugar, and handed one to me before taking a sip from his own cup. “You’re right, even my biggest heist ever wouldn’t have been enough to raise that kind of money. What they need are investors, but that’s difficult when their activities are counter to the interests of most of those who have money.”

Although he’d agreed with me, I felt deflated by his pessimism. “So there’s no hope?”

“I didn’t say that.” He rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “There have to be some people with money who are committed to—or at least interested in—the idea of revolution. It’s not just my friends and me.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Given the rate of taxation in the colonies, a lot of property owners might think a break with the Empire would be good for them, whether or not they also want to overthrow the class system. And there are some wealthy and influential nonmagisters who are held back by their nonmagical status. But I don’t know if they’d be open to allying with the Rebel Mechanics.”

“I think they’ll have to,” I said after mulling it over for a moment. “The only way a revolution could succeed is if there’s one revolution, not a magister revolution and a Mechanics revolution. Defeating the Empire is so big a task, it will take all of us working together.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked me square in the eyes. Without his glasses blurring them, they were an intriguing mix of shades of blue, and the sight brought me back to the moment we’d first met, when he’d robbed the train I was on. I’d later recognized him by his eyes. “We need to rally the people we know are interested and get them to recruit others. It may take time to gradually grow our organization, and in the meantime, we can ask for funds even before we ask people to make public declarations.” He shook his head, smiling slightly. “I wonder if there’s a way to sound people out without risking my neck. Who might have rebel leanings, and how could we tell?”

I took a sip of my tea, letting the sweetness restore some of the energy I’d spent using magic. “The military may be a fertile ground for recruiting. Consider the general—what does he think about being considered a lesser race by people who put so much responsibility on him?”

“I never thought of that.”

“That’s because you were brought up as a magister. You don’t know what it’s like for the rest of us.”

He smiled ruefully. “I suppose I’ve been too busy thinking about how limited my options were to consider that there were those who had even fewer choices in life, regardless of their abilities.”