The Revolution Machine

2. Awake

When she awoke, Melrid found herself lying unrestrained on a burlap cot. She was alone in a small room, surrounded by shelving full of junk. She sat up and rubbed her face. The smell of the sleep powder clung to her. She wondered if Danroy had killed a warden to get it.

Taking a few deep breaths, she watched the flicker of the single candle on the table in the middle of the room. Her sword and equipment were also on the table. A warm light seeped from around the door beyond. She got up and quietly belted on her sword.

Melrid looked around. The nearest shelf held a medley of springshot parts. She knew these were illegal for anyone but a warden to possess. She picked one up, just a grip and wooden barrel without a spring. She glanced around. There were no springs in sight.

Other shelves held brass weights, broken goggles, lens cases, aprons, tinplate pieces, market tokens, and other odds and ends. She pinched the tokens and put them in her pocket. A few rusty shovels, pick heads, and bare hafts littered the floor alongside leather pouches and packs.

Melrid crept toward the door to listen. She could hear a faint tapping. She cracked the door open and peered out into the dim hallway. Seeing a light at the end, she stepped out with her sword drawn.

She rounded the corner and saw big Stedlow sitting in a chair. His head was bandaged, and he gripped a mug of beer. Another man, portly and bald, sat at a workbench surrounded by crates, sacks of coal dust, bolts of silk, and buckets of amber. He was hammering the lid onto a small crate. They looked up at her casually. Stedlow took a drink.

"Where is my brother?" she asked, pointing her sword at them.

"Put that down," said the bald man. "You were allowed to keep it, not use it."

Melrid held her ground, scanning for a door. Stedlow was between her and the only exit.

"Put it down," he repeated. "Or we'll treat you like we do the other wardens. You certainly deserve it, in my opinion." He tapped the final nail on the crate.

Melrid ignored him and started toward the door. Stedlow stood up and blocked her path. She lifted her sword to strike him, but he caught the blade with a steel-gloved hand and yanked it from her hands. His face reddened as he snapped the blade across his armored knee, then tossed it at her. Melrid picked up the hilted shard.

"Really, now..." started the bald man.

Before he could admonish her again, Melrid sprung at Stedlow. He blocked her stab but not her punch to his bandaged wound. He cried out as Melrid darted behind him. Her hand was on the door handle when he caught her and flung her to the ground. As he came at her, jaw clenched and eyes fixed, the door opened.

"Stop, Stedlow!" Danroy shouted. He dropped what he was carrying and pulled Stedlow away. Melrid lunged for the door, but they caught her.

"You never did know when to give up," said Danroy.

Stedlow held her arms while Danroy bound her hands. Then Stedlow picked her up and roughly sat her in a chair at the table near the bald man's workbench. Stedlow returned to his beer, his head bandage bleeding. Danroy joined Melrid at the table.

"Why am I here with your thugs, Danroy? What would Mum and Pop say? All those people, Danroy..."

"Well, Mum and Pop aren't around anymore, are they? Maybe your warden friends could tell us how they died. Mine shaft collapse? Poison gas from the smelters? Maybe springshot cross fire at the market."

"The wardens keep order," Melrid said. "They had nothing to do with it."

"Come on, Sister. You don't believe that. You were a coal borer once, before joining the enemy."