Shepherds and Finches
Tuesday, 14 June 1870
Finch Precision Instruments and Chronometers
London, England
03:00 a.m. GMT
Ariadne and Pieter worked late into the evening on their respective pursuits. The clocks on the walls and the workbench ticked companionably all around them. Ariadne was in her work room and she could see Pieter through the doorway into the front of the shop, happily hunched over the latest project on his bench. She sat at her work desk surrounded by open books and notes. A microscope and several prepared slides sat to the side. She looked up from her work to glance through the doorway from time to time, enjoying the homey comfort of having her beloved husband nearby.
She saw Pieter straighten and stretch on his stool, hands above his head.
"Ariadne, dear. It's after three. We really need to be heading to bed."
"Of course, darling," Ariande said to the paragraph growing under her pen. "I'll just be a moment. I need to finish this summary and I'll be right up."
Pieter stood up stiffly and began walking over to his wife. "That's what you said 45 minutes ago."
"Oh!" She sat up in surprise then pulled her pen away from the paper to save it from a blotting. "But ... surely not. I've only written ..." She belatedly counted the sheets in front of her and realized their number had grown. "... Five pages," she admitted. She rose and moved to her bookshelves. "I'm sorry, Pieter, but I really must finish this thought. Just give me another few minutes? There is a reference I must write down and then I will be up to bed."
"I really must insist, dear. Can't you make a note to look it up first thing when you get up?"
"I … just … need …," Ariadne said, running her fingers along the book spines, scanning the titles. "Oh bother! It was right here. Darling, have you seen my volume on Thaumaturgological Chemosynthesis?"
Pieter made his way over to his wife and began stroking her exposed neck. "I thought you had tossed Stueben over for Lord Ruthven's book. You know the one the RS published last year."
Ariadne melted into his touch, marveling how his sensitive hands could have so strong a grip. She leaned backward into him with a sigh as he deftly kneaded the knots away.
"I may have tossed Stueben over for Lord Ruthven, Darling, but even the tossed-aside can be useful." Ariadne took a deep breath, catching a whiff of her husband's cologne—now barely discernible after the long day—and turned around in his hands to kiss him slowly and sweetly. "Two more minutes?" she begged.
"Well, only if I get to keep this up."
"Let us try, shall we?" Ariadne giggled and leaned to fetch her pen a few steps away, giving her husband view of her pale neck as she stretched.
***
Faint light spilled from the front window into the street. It was the only window so lit and the fog made the whole area glow almost ominously. Quentin looked at the sign. “Finch and Son. This is the place.” Quentin raised his hand to knock but then pulled back. “What sort of reception are we expecting here? It is kind of late for a social call, even if they are still awake.”
"Then it is fortunate that this is not a social call," Josephine said, her tone brisk though she kept her voice low as she knocked on the door. "This is the Colonel's business and the Finches have worked for the Colonel before. The hour should not shock them unduly." She turned her collar against the damp and took in the details. New Warrant of Appointment. Recent glazing. Old door. Older building. Ah, here they come.
Indeed, a shadow moved before the light inside and a second later, they could hear the shuffle of an approaching step. Josephine shifted subtly to check for her weapons by their weight. Still there. She took a step back to gain some room and waited for whatever lay behind the door, stretching her ears to the utmost for any untoward sound.
Pieter heard the knock and stopped stroking. ”Who could it be at this hour?” he said quietly as he grabbed his jacket and pulled it on. “Ariadne, I will get the door, but do grab a few bottles just in case.”
"Of course, Darling," Ariadne said, already turning for her desk drawer where she'd stashed a supply. She tucked three sets in her waistband and held one at the ready.
Checking through the shop window, Pieter saw a man and a woman on the doorstep. The woman looked vaguely French or maybe German but the man looked like an American adventurer from the cover of Strand Magazine. They didn’t look immediately dangerous and Ariadne should be prepared behind him, so he cracked the door open to speak to them. ”I’m afraid were closed for the evening,” he said.
"Mr. Pieter Finch?" Josephine asked, pronouncing the Christian name in the Dutch fashion. She cut a glance at the street and saw it was empty. She'd kept a close watch for tails and she was reasonably sure she and Quentin had not been followed. Nevertheless, she lowered her voice when she said, "We are here on the Colonel's business."
She heard the rustle of cloth deeper inside the establishment and she took another tiny step back, hiding the flick of her wrist that sent one of her throwing knives into her hand.
Despite the hour, the Colonel was the Colonel and England expects all of the Colonel’s agents to do their duty. Pieter unlocked the door and ushered Quentin and Josephine inside. “My apologies. We don’t usually get people coming by the shop this late. Not ones on legitimate business anyway. What can we do for you?”
Josephine gave Pieter a polite smile and a nod and entered on his invitation. She swept the front room with a swift glance and found it empty of all save Ariadne Finch. Josephine's smile warmed considerably as their eyes met and she covertly slid her knife back up her sleeve.
"Thank you, sir." Josephine stepped further inside and made room for Quentin. "We are here because we need a way to remove magic. Can you devise a way to do it?"
"That would depend. What item are you trying to disenchant?"
"It is not an item. It is an area."
“It’s not a specific area,” Quentin chimed in. “The idea I had was to deplete the magic in an area by creating a device that would simply use up all available magic. We would use it as a trap against a magical adversary. It would have to be simple enough that it would not be seen as a threat but powerful enough to totally use up all magic. I was imagining something that would cause a simple movement or maybe a light but use far more energy than needed.”
Pieter rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I will make some tea and think about it. Ariadne, we should make our guests comfortable. I will be right back.”
Ariadne's expression brightened as she recognized the woman who walked in, even as she looked up (and up) at the tall man who followed. Recalled to her duties as a hostess, she closed her mouth, which was just about to gape, and smiled instead.
"Josephine, how delightful to see you again. I hope you are well? And who is this fine gentleman with you?" Never completely at her best in the presence of strangers, Ariadne knew her manners were slipping dreadfully. Nevertheless, she linked arms with the Colonel's lady spy and gently guided the visitors to the back room. It was her work room, to be sure, but one corner of it had been cleared of the bookish clutter and a small settee and low table had been set up for receiving guests. An upholstered armchair and a tufted stool faced the settee and Ariadne quickly cleared the chair of books and papers so the guests could have their choice of seats.
"Do make yourselves at home," Ariadne said, looking about quickly and depositing the books and papers on the nearest convenient surface—her monograph, its ink fortuitously dry—before settling on the tufted stool. Ariadne twitched her skirts and beamed at her guests, then settled with her elbows on her knees and her hands clasped, like a child waiting for a favorite story to be read to her. "We did not have the time to truly visit when we last met, Josephine. What has been happening since then?"
"I do not know where to begin," Josephine laughed softly. "So much has happened and a lot of it did not involve me or Quentin, yet perhaps he can better explain what we are here to do. Quentin?" Josephine looked up from the settee to her husband.
Quentin leaned against the wall and began rolling a cigarette. "When I was a child," he said, his voice measured but loud enough to be heard at the back of the store. "My father had a toy, or maybe it was a scientific instrument. I don't know, but it was a glass bulb. Inside it were these diamond shaped flags made of metal. Each flag, black on one side and white on t'other, all attached to a central spindle. When you activated it, the spindle would spin and the flags would glow. The glow would change colors too, though I never figured out precisely why. I used to sneak it out of my dad's study and play with it all the time."
He finished the cigarette and passed it to Josephine before starting work on a second one.
"Mosul, our butler, told me it ran on magic, just like fires burn wood and steam engines burn coal and that made me nervous. 'What would happen if I used up all the magic in the house? Would we have to go into town to buy more?"
"Oh, I know that one," Ariadne smiled and sat up. "It's a thaumaturgical inferometer, albeit a very simple one to detect the presence of magical energy. It was invented by Gaspar Nantes." She sighed. "It's a pity his head didn't survive the Revolution."
She checked the doorway and seeing it still empty of her beloved husband, Ariadne leaned forward to whisper, "However, there have been rumors that attempts were made to preserve the man's head for the wealth of information therein via a combination of physical and magical means. But ... the endeavor failed and the remains were properly buried with regret." She grimaced squeamishly and then went pensive. "I wonder if Madame Selene knows of a preservation method involving her life strand studies. Surely she—."
"Ariadne, however much I am sure it would be a fascinating avenue of inquiry, I am afraid I must bring us back to the topic at hand," Josephine gently interrupted, her cigarette unlit in her fingers. She could see the idea taking hold of Ariadne and she didn't wish to spend the next hour on a pursuit the Colonel could not use. Not yet, at any rate. "Please do make a note of this idea. I am sure we will return to it in the future. Quentin? You were saying?"
Quentin finished rolling his cigarette and began fishing through his pocket for the lucifers. "Well, our mutual associate Colonel Fleming has decided to send the two of us, along with several others, on an expedition to destroy some ne'er-do-well named 'Vars' who is apparently wanting to use some ancient magic device to destroy God." He scraped the match with his thumb and lit the cigarette. "My thought was that if we remove magic from the area we could stop him. Dampen the matches as it were."
Josephine raised her cigarette in silent request for a light and once she got it, she took a deep drag and leaned back. She delicately blew the smoke away from Ariadne, who she saw was mightily suppressing the urge to sneeze and fan herself, and said, "I have no magic of my own, in affinity or aptitude. I am merely a physical agent of the Crown. Yet from what I have been able to discern, you and your husband have managed to apply physical science upon magic with reliable and repeatable results, such that someone such as I might harness magic for my own ends. I understand this is a development that highly disconcerts mages and thaumaturges, so much so that I hope we may manage and maintain an element of surprise against our adversary who is reputed to be a powerful mage. One cannot attack or defend against what one fails to anticipate, yes?"
"Yes," Ariadne said. "There is much that is unconventional about Pieter's work. We are no strangers to thinking outside convention. I think it is one reason why he encountered so much resistance in the Royal Society at first." She glanced down at her hands and saw her fingers had laced together hard enough to turn her knuckles white. She forced herself to relax. "Of course, he prevailed and is now an Associate Member. I am very proud of him. He has worked hard for many years and should be rewarded."
Josephine noticed Ariadne's hands but refrained from comment. She suspected she knew the cause of the woman's unconscious stress and sympathized: as a woman in a predominantly masculine profession, Josephine understood the challenge of earning respect while running counter to social expectation. Aloud, she said, "And so he has, but take care not to discount your own talents. Selene speaks highly of you, little though she speaks highly of anyone." Josephine had read through those records as well. It paid to understand as much as possible about those she would work with, friend or foe. "As we pursue a means to deprive Vars of magic, is there not something biological we can deprive him of as well?"
"Well, I … Oh my," Ariadne blinked. "I … do not know. That is to say, there are many things, including life itself, but I understand we must be subtle about it and … oh, dear. I can feel another rabbit hole coming on. I promise I will think on this, as well as the other you've mentioned, but in the interest of staying on task, perhaps we should ask Pieter what he thinks of it so far." She looked toward the door as she spoke, hoping to find her husband there.
A slight clacking of china announced Pieter's return. The cups were the nicest still clean in the dish rack and the tea was an entirely fresh pot. Fresh tea for fresh thinking. He set the pot down on the low table in front of the settee and began pouring cups. "I've thought about your idea," he said finishing the first cup and handing it to Quentin. "But it won't work the way you think. Magic is ambient in an area and while some areas do hold stronger concentrations than others, the general condition of magic has it flow from areas of higher concentration to lesser ones. An analogy might be to ask yourself if you've ever seen a forest fire extinguish itself due to lack of oxygen."
"No, I haven't," Josephine said. "But I have seen an explosion put out a fire in a mine shaft. I understand if the fire is contained in relatively tight quarters, an explosion would deplete the oxygen inside the contained area via its own combustion, depriving the original fire of the fuel it needs to burn." Josephine took a contemplative draw on her cigarette. "I realize it is not quite the same but if there is a way to block the ambient magic from entering an area before you deplete it of magic, then would we not create the vacuum we seek?"
"If you opponent is as strong as you've inferred, then I doubt the explosion analogy would work. At a minimum I don't see how I could create a device that capable of creating such an acute disturbance in magical fields that would not be easily viewed as a threat." Pieter took a sip of tea. "No, I think our better option would be to create an area of null magic through the intersection of multiple thaumaturgical generation fields, but ones aligned so as to create destructive resonance like using multiple tuning forks specifically arranged and timed to create silence. To an untrained observer it would look as if the device would increase local magical energy but in fact it was nullifying it."
Quentin tried to imagine what the device looked like, but wasn't coming up with much. "So this would be a sorta like a magical version of Michelson's light interference experiment. Anyone ever try to do that before?"
"No," Pieter said. "But that might work to our advantage. If this Vars character doesn't understand it, he probably wouldn't feel threatened by it."
"Pieter, dear?" Ariadne interjected, laying a hand on her husband's arm.
"Yes?"
"What would we need for such a device? What have we on hand?" Ariadne explained. "Before one goes shopping, one needs to know what one has."
"On hand? Well …Indeed." Pieter blinked as he ran through his mental inventory. "Remember the ghost catcher, you remember that."
"Of course."
"Well that, plus sufficient quantities of supplies to make …oh …," Pieter trailed off as he built them in his head. "Seven more of those to make … Hmm. This should make an area roughly eight feet in radius. It won't be a true sphere but rather the overlap of eighteen hemispherical arcs. The parts, including the spared from the ghost catcher would make four generators and the new parts an additional fourteen." Pieter adjusted his glasses and looked at Josephine and Quentin. "When does this device need to be made?"
"As soon as possible," Josephine said, cigarette smoke snaking out with her reply. "Make your list."
"Yes, but 'as soon as possible' doesn't tell me anything," Pieter remonstrated.
"I thought I was clear." Josephine's eyebrow rose.
"Do you mean a day?" Pieter asked, either unaware of the silent warning of her brow or uncaring of it. "Two weeks? The more time I have, the better the device will be."
"Mr. Finch, this is a top priority task. Do make this at all possible speed, one that will lead to—let us just say, to a tool sufficient for the task. Perfection is not necessary."
"Sir, I think I could be a bit more specific." Quentin could see his wife starting to bristle with impatience and put a hand on her shoulder. His tone was as firm as his touch. "Mr. Finch, we are leaving in the morning and travelling to Africa aboard Prince Alexi's … Whatever the hell he calls that infernal device—boat, train, dirigible …?"
"Omnivehicle," Josephine offered.
"Yes, that would work." Quentin squeezed her shoulder in thanks. "It took us roughly four days to get back from Africa aboard the thing. It will take a similar amount of time to return. So, if you would assemble your list of parts and equipment, we can arrange purchase and have it sent out to Alexi's Vehicle. You could assemble the device while we are traveling. I will endeavor to assist."
"Will that be sufficient?" Josephine asked Pieter directly, her brow arched as before.
"I will make up my list," Pieter agreed. "It will include some small level of extras in case we run into problems or something new comes up as we assemble the device. Um …I will also need a source of motive electrical energy: a magneto or turbo-alternator, preferably. Something in the 20 kilowatt range.
"Oh dear, Pieter." As Pieter spoke, Ariadne rose from her stool and fetched a notebook and pencil and busily wrote down the shopping list. She frowned at it. "I don't think we have anything like that."
"No, we don't." Pieter shook his head. "Certainly our batteries will be insufficient and besides we will need something generating a sinusoidal energy wave. Even with batteries we'd need an alternator of some sort at a bare minimum."
"Please, Pieter dear," Ariadne asked, her pencil busy on the paper. "Just a little slower if you don't mind."
"Well, this Prince's vehicle," Pieter asked Quentin, buying his wife some time. "It flies, it swims, traverses ground? What form of energy does it use to power itself?"
"Steam," said Josephine, "if I recall correctly."
"I don't know how much power it produces," Quentin admitted. "But it moves right along, regardless of what it's goin' through. The thing's huge and mostly steel. To move that much weight at speed, it's gotta have all the power you need. Knowing Alexi, it may even already have a generator."
Josephine retreated behind her cigarette as Quentin spoke and she watched the Finches narrowly. She had met Ariadne Finch once before but Pieter Finch was still an unknown quantity. The man seemed fussily exacting as to details and she anticipated some difficulty in having him work unexpectedly on the fly. Nevertheless, she could plainly see the man was a genius inventor and would rise to the challenge.
"What are you thinking, Mr. Finch?" she asked, hoping to narrow his focus and weed out distractions.
"I need …," Pieter said, thinking it out aloud. "To make the device work, I will need a source of power. Something akin to a railroad locomotive would be sufficient energy for this. If Alexi's ship performs as you claim, then it almost certainly possesses the needed power. The only problem would be how we would get the energy to the device. We would either need to have the device built on Alexi's vessel or would need to have his vessel nearby and have electrical wires run from it to where the device was installed." Pieter paused to allow Ariadne catch up, the scratch of her pencil and the ticking of the clocks both loud in the quiet. "I know that technically according to Hertz and according to some of Ampere's experiments, it might be possible to beam the power directly to the device, to send it over the Aether effectively, but I believe that it imposes an additional level of questionable science to our already groundbreaking problem."
"So," Josephine said, sitting up and snuffing her cigarette on her teacup saucer. "The dilemma as I see it is that we must either take the device to Vars or bring Vars to the device."
"Given his ego, I see no problem bringing him to us," Quentin said. "It'll be easy. 'Specially if he thinks we've got something capable of making him powerful enough to take him on. Anybody who says they're gonna destroy God—"
"Has ego aplenty, yes," Josephine interjected. "But how can we be certain that he will see to the task himself instead of sending lackeys, who we do not want?"
"As I see it—lackeys, we can handle. We got plenty of powerful folk on our side. I got my guns. We got magicians. We got that little gnome guy who can do both."
"Hobbit, dear," Josephine said, inwardly amused, knowing what Dionysius Beignet's reaction would be. "Not gnome."
"I know, but I like rattling his cage." Quentin had caught the sparkle behind his wife's eyes. "Even when he's not here. Regardless." Quentin waved his cigarette dismissively. "If he sends lackeys, that'll actually work in our favor. If lackeys come, we kill'em."
"Oh dear," Ariadne blurted, dropping her pencil on the floor with a start. With a flustered flutter, she picked it up.
"Understand, Ma'am," Quentin said. "We are playing for high stakes here. If he can succeed who know what will happen? The world may well be destroyed. Certainly it will be forever and detrimentally altered. And if he fails in spectacular enough fashion, he might still succeed in obliterating all we hold dear."
"That's if he fails," Ariadne said, appalled. "That's bad enough, surely, but if that's the case, what would killing him do?"
"Well, at a bare minimum, if we kill him in an area with no magic that should limit the repercussions."
"One would hope," Ariadne said, even more appalled.
Pieter had gently pulled the notebook from his wife's unresponsive fingers and continued making lists of needed parts and drawing rough plans of the device as she and Quentin exchanged their viewpoints. Recalled to the task at hand, Ariadne retrieved her notebook from her husband, checking what he'd written.
"Oh, that must go on the list. And that too …" Ariadne sad, coloring slightly as she realized she was speaking her thoughts aloud. She smiled apologetically. "You … you two—no, three—no, two—shall concentrate on how to kill this Vars fellow and I hope I shan't get in the way when the task needs doing." She swallowed with a grimace. "Oh dear …"
"If it were done when 'tis done," Quentin intoned. "Then 'twere well it were done quickly."
"Yes … surely," Ariadne replied faintly, going a little pale over her notebook.
"I would have thought you'd recognize the Bard of Avon," Quentin said, unable to resist tweaking the woman's metaphorical tail.
"Ah, the Scottish play where everyone dies," Ariadne said quickly, a rising anger at his needling replacing her timidity.
"Ma'am." Quentin felt Josephine's touch on his arm but he ignored it to lean forward and bend his gaze full on little Ariadne Finch. "You do realize that if we all die and the World survives, that's still a victory of sorts."
"Well, I may be a coward for saying so," Ariadne shot back, angry and frightened now in equal measure. "But I hope we achieve a victory that we shall remain alive to enjoy!"
"Indeed," Quentin drawled and settled back. Got some fire in her yet. Good. "However, we would hardly be the first to lay down all for Queen and Country, or Constitution and President."
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