Feeling as though I was making a momentous decision, I squared my shoulders and said, “I believe there’s a party upstairs.”

In Which I Sample Strong Drink, Strange Music, and Steam

IN WHICH I SAMPLE STRONG DRINK, STRANGE MUSIC, AND STEAM

We entered the room at the top of the stairs, and all my senses were assaulted at once. I smelled smoke and dust and spicy food and spicier drink. Color, light, scent, and sound all competed for my attention, making it impossible to notice any one thing.

I finally regained enough equilibrium to distinguish individual elements. The cavernous space looked like it was an old theater. The light came from great glass globes hanging from wires draped across the ceiling. Red banners with large gears sewn on them hung among the globes. It wasn’t a brass band I heard, but rather a small band playing lively dance music on a stage near where I stood. There were the usual fiddler and drummer, but there was another sound layered beneath that, a jaunty tone that sounded like a particularly breathy and brassy church organ. The sound came from a set of pipes on a cart next to the stage. I’d seen a steam calliope in a circus parade, but never thought one would be used as part of a dance band.

Most of the guests wore the Mechanics’ unorthodox mix of attire. Their colorful clothing was garish in the bright lights. In the center of the room, couples spun wildly in time to the unusual music. Around the perimeter, groups of men and women tinkered with or showed off their inventions. Tables laden with food, punch bowls, and ale kegs lined a nearby wall. An odd contraption made up of tubes, clockwork gears, and strangely shaped bits of glass spewed vapor and flame and made loud clattering noises.

While I was still assessing the situation, someone rushed at me, grabbed me around the waist, and lifted me off my feet. “Verity, my lass! I thought we’d lost you in the tunnels!”

“Put her down, Colin,” Lizzie scolded, and I was most grateful when my feet returned to the floor.

“You look positively parched,” he said to me. “Lucky for you, I know just the thing for that ailment.” He took my hand and led me toward the strange device. “The lady will have one, if you please,” he told the man operating it.

The man, who wore a physician’s white smock and a pair of laboratory safety goggles, said, “The lady will have to try her luck.” He handed me a small brass gear and pointed to a metal dish on the end of the contraption. “Get this in there and you get yourself a drink.”

Colin leaned over my shoulder. “Go on, Verity, you can do it.”

“Didn’t I see a punch bowl?” I asked.