Deciding there was no apparent danger from the mechanimal, the two lady teachers reemerged.
“Well,” demanded Lady Linette, “what does it say?”
Professor Braithwope began to read, but his words were garbled by the cork. “Ith sayth thath—”
“Professor, you have something stuck on your fang,” hissed Lady Linette, clearly embarrassed for the man.
“Whoth? Whoth?”
Professor Lefoux reached forward and tugged off the offending cork.
Professor Braithwope read out, “It says that they want the prototype. They are giving us three weeks to produce it, after which they will return with reinforcements.”
“Absurd! What kind of reinforcements could flywaymen possibly have?” Professor Lefoux blustered.
Lady Linette was not so dismissive. “If they were being paid enough…”
“You think the Picklemen are behind this, whot?” Professor Braithwope swirled the little note between his long white fingers.
“Who else?” said Professor Lefoux, and then she added, “On the positive end of things, if they are threatening us, it means they haven’t got it. No one’s got it. Wherever Monique hid it, she hid it from everyone.”
“Trained her too well, whot?” Professor Braithwope let out a self-deprecating chuckle.
“Little pitchers have big ears,” said Lady Linette, nodding to where Sophronia still skulked behind a mechanical.
Sophronia came out, wondering what was required of her. Nothing, apparently, as the adults went back to ignoring her. She remained wildly curious about the prototype, but unfortunately, nothing else about it was mentioned.
Professor Braithwope waved the message at the flywaymen in the airdinghy nearest them and then doffed his hat with a free thumb.
Taking this as a dismissal, the whole parade of tiny airships turned and drifted lazily away.
“Three weeks,” muttered Lady Linette. “Suggested course of action?”
“Leave the real one be for now; the girl’s clearly hidden it well enough, whot?”
“We might provide them with a temporary surrogate,” suggested Professor Lefoux.
“That is a good idea. Do you think you could?” Lady Linette turned to her compatriot.
“I don’t see why not. I have old blueprints of a previous model.”
“Capital. Put some of the older girls on to it, too, do them good, whot? Then we can get Bunson’s to put the beastie together.” Professor Braithwope nodded, smiling a tight-lipped smile. He handed Lady Linette the tube and message and disarmed the dart from his little crossbow. The defensive mechanicals all around them instantly lowered their cannons and closed the hatches in their chests.
Professor Braithwope returned to the brass box, opened it, and switched the lever inside. With a whir of gears, the mechanicals all trundled away. He then returned to Professor Lefoux’s side and offered her his arm. “What initial material approach do you think best?”
“Well, I suspect magnetized steel might be the most emulatory. Copper could also work. We should get the furnace heated immediately.”
“Steel, whot? Capital idea. Capital.”
The two moved toward the exit hatch, Professor Lefoux looming over her diminutive male escort. Sophronia watched them go in bemusement.
“Well, that was rather a plump. I do apologize, Miss Temminnick. I assure you things aren’t generally this much—well, much. If you’d like to follow me, I’ll see you settled.” Lady Linette dismissed the whole occurrence with a little toss of her head.
Sophronia hesitated, and then—because everyone seemed to have forgotten him and he looked so forlorn—she scooped up the sausage dog mechanimal and hid him in her large pinafore pocket. Then she trailed after her new teacher.
Music teacher, she thought, looking at the full skirts of Lady Linette’s lavender dress. And I’m Queen of the Vampires.
Of course, the next day, when it finally came time for lessons, Sophronia was to find Lady Linette sitting at a pianoforte, playing scales.
THE REAL MEANING OF FINISHING
Miss Temminnick, you share this parlor with the other debuts. Now, ladies,” Lady Linette said, looking at the four girls before her, “this is Miss Temminnick. I’m certain you will make her welcome. She is now ready to learn more about our educational institution.” With that, Lady Linette whirled away to devote her time to more pressing matters.
Sophronia stood awkwardly in the center of the room. Most of the girls before her were younger than she, and all of them were better dressed. For the first time, she actually felt a twinge of concern about the modishness of her attire. Critical sisters were one thing, but these young ladies were elegant, with opinions more important than those of mere sisters. She reached inside her pinafore pocket and produced the little sausage dog.
“Is that all you brought with you? A mechanimal?” This was said by a mocking voice with clipped elocution, as if each word were being prematurely assassinated.
The girl behind the voice was tiny, with a mass of tightly curled black hair and a heart-shaped face set in a morose expression. She was, unfortunately, beautiful. Sophronia’s only consolation was that the girl had a decidedly low nose. Sitting next to her was a wholesome redhead with freckles quite beyond Sophronia’s own—somewhat of a relief, that—who glanced with shy interest at the mechanimal and then focused her attention on her own shoes. Next to her sat Dimity. The last girl, who was not seated, was an angular, mannish creature, her posture slouched and her dress ill-fitting. She was occupied in chewing on a stick and sneering at them all from the far corner of the room.