The beginning of a remarkable adventure...
The bar was a dirty, run-down affair. The lights were dim, but it didn't help the situation. I could still feel how sticky the table's surface was, every time I lifted my glass of whisky. It was the best drink in the place, and it was terrible. Far too sharp on the palate, and it burnt all the way down.
I heard a creak - the door opening. I took a glance at the newcomer and immediately dropped my gaze back to my glass. He was a gigantic brute - probably associated with one of the four or five gangs that claimed this part of the city. I took another sip, grimaced, and pondered reasons why my associate would have chosen such a filthy place to meet - or, for that matter, why he wanted to meet at all. I did not find many reasons, and the ones I did find were not pleasant.
The door opened again a few minutes later. I looked up and would have sighed with relief, if I were not still so tense. He was here - we'd talk and then I'd be gone. He went up to the bar and came away with a glass of something reddish-amber and thick, like treacle.
"My friend," I began, but I was quickly interrupted.
"I am not your friend." He was talking quickly and quietly, almost muttering, but his words held force, even menace.
"Very well," I replied. "Why could we not have met somewhere more... hospitable?"
"Can't attract attention."
"Attention? Alexi, there are more eyes on us here than there would be at Gerald's, I assure you!"
"The denizens of Gerald's are much better at looking without seeming to. Here, at least, we know who's watching. And don't use my name in public. What happened to your face?"
He was referring to the bandage I wore. I'd had an accident with one of my new Baroness engines two weeks before - fortunately I'd been wearing eye protection at the time of the explosion, but my cheeks were still badly burnt, and I would have a nasty scar when the shrapnel wound healed.
I decided to evade the question. "It doesn't matter. Why did you bring me here?"
"The thermal engine you sold me. It's broken. You're going to fix it."
Shit.
"You're going to fix it now."
Double shit.
I scrambled for an objection, a reason to delay. "My tools ... I'll need to..."
"I've got your tools. I took them from your laboratory."
The threat was obvious. If he'd broken into my laboratory and taken my tools, he could just as easily enter my house and harm my dear wife and my precious boy. Oh, gods. I never thought they'd be in danger.
"Then I suppose we'd better get going," I said gamely as I rose. I downed the rest of my drink in one swallow. I hadn't anticipated quite how it would burn. I coughed, gagged, then straightened myself, regretting the failed show of bravado.
"Jolly good," came my extorter's reply.
I heard a creak - the door opening. I took a glance at the newcomer and immediately dropped my gaze back to my glass. He was a gigantic brute - probably associated with one of the four or five gangs that claimed this part of the city. I took another sip, grimaced, and pondered reasons why my associate would have chosen such a filthy place to meet - or, for that matter, why he wanted to meet at all. I did not find many reasons, and the ones I did find were not pleasant.
The door opened again a few minutes later. I looked up and would have sighed with relief, if I were not still so tense. He was here - we'd talk and then I'd be gone. He went up to the bar and came away with a glass of something reddish-amber and thick, like treacle.
"My friend," I began, but I was quickly interrupted.
"I am not your friend." He was talking quickly and quietly, almost muttering, but his words held force, even menace.
"Very well," I replied. "Why could we not have met somewhere more... hospitable?"
"Can't attract attention."
"Attention? Alexi, there are more eyes on us here than there would be at Gerald's, I assure you!"
"The denizens of Gerald's are much better at looking without seeming to. Here, at least, we know who's watching. And don't use my name in public. What happened to your face?"
He was referring to the bandage I wore. I'd had an accident with one of my new Baroness engines two weeks before - fortunately I'd been wearing eye protection at the time of the explosion, but my cheeks were still badly burnt, and I would have a nasty scar when the shrapnel wound healed.
I decided to evade the question. "It doesn't matter. Why did you bring me here?"
"The thermal engine you sold me. It's broken. You're going to fix it."
Shit.
"You're going to fix it now."
Double shit.
I scrambled for an objection, a reason to delay. "My tools ... I'll need to..."
"I've got your tools. I took them from your laboratory."
The threat was obvious. If he'd broken into my laboratory and taken my tools, he could just as easily enter my house and harm my dear wife and my precious boy. Oh, gods. I never thought they'd be in danger.
"Then I suppose we'd better get going," I said gamely as I rose. I downed the rest of my drink in one swallow. I hadn't anticipated quite how it would burn. I coughed, gagged, then straightened myself, regretting the failed show of bravado.
"Jolly good," came my extorter's reply.