The Sensaurum and the Lexis Read online

  “There are too many people around for our safety.” Jessamine made a decision. “I think we should get back to the inn and call Langdon by speaker in the morning. Tell him what we have seen and get his instructions. Perhaps we can return and look inside that other wall tonight.”

  They turned and made their way back to the outer wall, they were now on the other side of the estate, closer to town. It was the work of moments to climb over. Once over the wall they found themselves on a path and followed it back to the road.

  On the way they discussed what they had seen. “There must be a connection,” said Jackson, “between the events in the city and this place.”

  “I suppose so,” Jessamine was sceptical. “We should be wary of jumping to conclusions. We only report the facts; it’s up to others to unravel them.”

  Jackson was having none of it. “Don’t you see, the Professor must be Aldithley, we saw him arrive. He is carrying on his work, which Woolon tried to stop. He might have mastered the art of controlling mechanical devices, such as limbs, now it seems that he is trying to do the same to humans.”

  “But how?”

  “That is what we still need to know; we should return and see beyond the other wall.”

  Chapter 21

  At that point they ended their discussion; they had arrived back on the edge of town. It appeared to be quiet and they made their way back to the inn without seeing anyone. Once onto the roof and across the tiles they were back in their room. It was in darkness and after taking off their boots and using the bathroom, they both collapsed exhausted onto the bed. Jackson had used the time when Jessamine was abluting to search for his quip-belt. He could not find it anywhere, neither on the bed where he was sure he had left it nor in his possessions or even in his empty case. He must have left it back in the city; although he was sure he had not. There was no sign that the room had been searched, the cupboard was still across the door. What was he to do? In the end, he fell asleep, next to Jessamine.

  In the morning the inn came to life, although they slept on. When they had not appeared for fast-breaker, the innkeeper’s wife sent the maid upstairs. They were woken by her knock on the door.

  “Fast-break and Char awaits you downstairs,” she called. Jackson woke and stretched, he looked across towards the window, remembering the night’s escapades. Jessamine was laid on her back, covers pulled up to her neck, a small smile on her face. The sunlight streamed in through the window and he could hear, not the low rumble of the city, but birdsong. “Wake up, Jessamine,” he called. “Fast-break and Char.”

  “I will sleep on, then take a bath,” Jessamine muttered. “You go and eat, if you must, bring me some Char when you return.”

  Jackson went down the stairs. The bar was deserted save for a large lady who was bustling, as they all seemed to do. “Good morn,” she greeted him. “Where is your lady, is she not hungry?”

  “She is enjoying her sleep, and a leisurely bath,” Jackson replied. She winked in the way of someone sharing a conspiracy.

  “Bless her; you can take your food up to her if you wish. Eggs, bread fried in porker grease and fresh local sausage, along with fresh Char. Will that suffice?”

  “That will be capital for me. Char will suffice for my lady, I will take it to her, thank you,” said Jackson, then he thought of the porkers and their meal, his stomach churned. But he had to eat.

  The woman bustled for a while. “You were on the flying machine yesterday,” she said. “Silas was here last night drinking his weight in ale as usual and mentioned you.”

  Did everyone in this town know about them? Jessamine needed to know this, before they called Langdon. And Silas, had he followed them here?

  “I would have thought he would be at the Nethersole Arms,” he said. “Yesterday he was singing the man’s praises for the duration of the flight.”

  “Oh, he is Nethersole’s man, irrespective of the Watchman’s code. He keeps an eye on all the goings on hereabouts, and keeps order, in his own way.” She had ignored him and produced food for them both while she had been talking, now she served two plates, after covering them with metal lids she stacked them on a tray. She added mugs of Char. “Here you are then,” she said. “Can you manage on the stair?”

  Jackson thanked her and took the tray up. He knocked on the door. “Jessamine, are you decent?”

  “Come in,” Jessamine said, and he heard the sound of the key turning in the lock. Balancing the tray, he pushed the door open. Jessamine was stood wrapped in a towel, her hair wet and hanging down her back.

  “What have you there, Jackson?” she said.

  “You asked for Char but I have more,” he replied. “There is food, and I have some useful information.”

  “Now I’m awake and clean, I’ve realised that I’m starving,” she said. Pulling the cover from one of the plates, she sat and attacked the food.

  “Do you not think of the porkers we saw last night?” Jackson said, although he too ate. The food was delicious, the porker delicately flavoured with herbs.

  “This is not the meat of a wild beast,” she said, mumbling with a mouthful of fried bread. “Their flesh is more grained, these beasts were not foragers. Anyway, what is your news?”

  “I think we should be cautious in calling Langdon,” he said. “The woman who cooked this told me that Silas, the Watchman, was in the inn last night, drinking and telling everyone of us.”

  “He is clever,” she replied, “making all in the town aware of strangers, we will have to change our plans for the day, do a little of what we profess to do.”

  After eating, they dressed for the town. “We must leave the room as innocent as we can,” Jessamine said, “that means we secure our packs from a casual search.”

  Jackson looked around, there was no place to hide them. “Where?” He thought of his hat, surely it would not be forced to carry it in there again, but that did not serve Jessamine’s needs, she had no hat.

  “In your case,” she said, “there is a false bottom; the pack will lay flat inside.” Jackson opened his case. “There are four clips.” Jessamine showed him where they appeared as part of the pattern of the lining, when pressed the base swung up. “Lay the pack in and close the flap,” she instructed. “Then a few clothes on top and under the bed with it.”

  They completed preparations and went downstairs, Jackson carrying the now empty tray.

  “Are you off sightseeing?” asked the lady who had cooked. As she spoke, she was joined by the innkeeper.

  “Good morn,” he said. “I did not expect to see you, after your exertions last night.”

  Jackson felt himself blush, but not for the reason the innkeeper surmised. “Why, sir, I do not know what you can mean,” Jessamine asked him, wide-eyed. “We are respectable, married folk.”

  Now it was his turn to blush. “Excuse me,” he replied, under the fierce gaze of the lady. “At one point, it sounded for all the world that the furniture was being moved.”

  There was an awkward silence, broken by Jackson, keeping to the story they had agreed. “Can you tell us, is there a local journal in this town?”

  “Yes,” replied the woman, “and take no notice of my husband, he has a wicked imagination and an offensive humour that takes getting used to. There is the Hammerham Notice, a weekly publication; its offices are in the town, next to the Trading Company building.”

  They left the building and were surprised to find Silas walking past the entrance. “Well hello,” he said. “’Tis a fine morning for a stroll. Fancy me being here to greet you.”

  “If I didn’t know better,” said Jessamine, “I’d think that you were following us.”

  The Watchman laughed. “I’m just doing my job, patrolling and being visible should any need me. You are new in this town and it would be remiss of me not to keep my eye on you. What are your plans? No doubt you will see the Notice as well as take the air and see the sights?”

  “That is our intent; we have heard tell of a big estate her
e and a model farm, they must have wares to sell. And to show that we are not at work all the time, we intend to visit various pretty places. I believe there are woods and waterfalls nearby, a favourite of mine when I can get away from the city.”

  Silas nodded. “There are indeed such places. There is a track near the Nethersole estate, we passed it yesterday. It runs alongside the boundary wall, if you venture along it for a mile or so, you will come upon the falls of the River Hamm, at a place the locals call Los. You will see the sign.”

  “A strange name, what is the meaning?”

  “It’s a local word for porker, due to the abundance of wild species in the land. They can be dangerous but rarely seen in the day. The word is the call of the hunter; it resembles the sound they make to each other.”

  Jackson resisted the sudden urge to say that they had passed the sign the night before, whilst investigating. Instead he merely said, “Thank you, you’re most helpful.”

  The Watchman smiled. “’Tis part of my job,” he said, “as well as keeping the land safe and free from anarchists and spies. I must away; no doubt we shall see each other again.”

  “That was interesting,” Jackson remarked after he was out of sight. “Do you think he is aware of our purpose?”

  She shook her head. “I do not see how, he has no information of our names, any enquiries will lead him to Fairview, who will back us up. I suspect he is just warning us that he has suspicions, as we are not known and Nethersole is important. Anyway, we have an excuse to be seen in walking gear, we can go to these falls later and wait until dark to continue our examination of the estate. We will already be halfway there.”

  They crossed the market square and found the offices of the Notice with no trouble. It was closed, a sign indicated that it would be open, yet it was not. “Country folk have a different grasp of time,” said Jessamine. “There is little rush when you leave the city.” The town was not bustling. Jackson could understand the logic, if there was little to do, then why rush to do it.

  There were enterprises open for business and a few carts with equines pulling them in view. Whilst waiting, they wandered over to the Trading Company and went inside. There were shelves and bins containing all that a person would need to live comfortably, grains, fresh fruits and vegetables and a supply of the new types of food, ready-made portions of soups and stews, preserved in metal and glass containers with gaudy labels.

  “I would not have thought to see these here,” said Jessamine.

  “Indeed not,” replied an old woman, dressed in faded black. “Where is the skill passed down from mother to daughter in opening one of them? What has happened to the world? People flit about in stinking machines and lead unnatural lives, ever rushing here and there.” She paused. “You are not local folk?” she said suspiciously.

  “We are on a visit,” Jackson replied. “Part business and part pleasure.”

  “And you’ve chosen our humble town,” she said. “Welcome, I am Marie and I have lived here for eighty-five years. Everyone knows me and I know everything. Where do you intend to visit?”

  “We have business at the office of the Notice,” Jessamine replied. “Then after luncheon, we will visit the falls of Los.”

  Her face darkened. “Keep well away from the Nethersole estate if you do,” she said. “They are not fond of strangers there. Many things go on that I do not like. There are arrivals and no departures, if you get my meaning.”

  “I thought that everyone loved Mr Nethersole,” Jessamine said innocently. “Does he not do a lot for the town?”

  She spat out the words, “Rodney Nethersole has this town in an iron grip. He has bought the law, and turned everyone’s eyes away from his evil, by bribing them with money and promises. They cannot see it but Marie can.”

  She stopped talking and looked past them. She had seen someone enter the shop. “Here’s his chief lackey now,” she muttered. “Don’t drop your guard; be aware of each word he hears you utter, for it will end up in every ear.”

  They left her and went back to the office, ignoring Silas, who was in conversation with the shopkeeper.

  The office was now open. A girl was sitting behind a desk, her face long and thin, with the style of her hair she resembled an equine in a frock. “Good day,” she brayed, reinforcing the illusion.

  “May we see your proprietor?” asked Jessamine. “We are from the city and may have business with him.”

  “I know,” she replied. “Your father has sent you to gather intelligence about our humble publication. I have a sample copy here for you.” She handed it over. “Silas was telling us about your inducements, I believe he called them. Our Mr Chickering is available.” She rose. “I will tell him you’re here and fetch you Char.”

  When she had departed, Jackson turned to Jessamine. “Everyone knows.”

  “It’s a small town, a fiefdom, Silas suspects us but we have the advantage.”

  “How so?”

  “We know that he knows. It’s like a game, one where everyone can see all the pieces in play. The skill lies in doing what is not expected, making it look like something else. We are secure, our story is robust enough, if Silas is as good as he appears, he will have called the city already.”

  Chickering came out, another fat man, like many they had seen in the town, his appearance shouted good living. “Come into my sanctum,” he said. “I have heard of you and have been talking to friends in the city by speaker about you, in anticipation of this visit.” Jessamine gave Jackson an ‘I told you they would check on us’, look.

  The girl brought Char and they drank. “I know of inducements and I must admit that I have no time for them. In my opinion, they distract and annoy the reader.”

  “Perhaps,” said Jackson, “it is because the local reader knows of local wares already. Surely it would be better to induce those who may not have heard of Hammerham’s finest produce, say in the city. In exchange merchants in the city could tell of their products in the Notice.”

  “A good point, well made,” said Chickering. He thought for a moment. “I have an idea. As you may have noticed, there is a local merchant, Rodney Nethersole, I’m sure that he would be interested in your ideas. He produces for local consumption, porkers and vegetables.”

  “We have seen his signs,” said Jackson. “All folk speak highly of him; he seems to be a local force.”

  “He keeps involved in the town, you’ll not find one who dislikes him, except maybe Marie, but she dislikes everyone. I could introduce you, over luncheon maybe, if he is in residence.”

  “That might be possible,” said Jessamine, aghast at the idea of coming face to face with Rodney. Perhaps Winifred had been right, they should not have come. “We have also heard that he plans to get the rail extended to Hammerham, that it would fit in with expanding his business. With our and your help, he might induce people in the city with fresh produce, if he could guarantee delivery. And the man who sold him inducements might become wealthy.” Chickering’s face let slip his love of money, as plain as his body showed his love of food.

  “True,” he muttered, “and no doubt, some sort of commission would be payable.”

  Jessamine inclined her head. “Why naturally, it’s the nature of business, all benefit and profit is shared, as is any risk.”

  “Mr Nethersole is a philanthropic man; he will bear the full cost of extending the rail, from his own pocket. Although it is true that the rail will mostly benefit him and his business, he is willing to offer the service to everyone in Hammerham. He wishes to get to the capital more easily; he spends time in both places and wastes a lot of his days in travelling. Moving his goods and allowing others to travel will be a bonus for us in the town.” The speaker on his desk rang, interrupting his praises.

  “Excuse me,” he said, “that will be a call from one of my reporters. I will see if Mr Nethersole is able to meet you and send word, I understand that you are lodging at the Lost Quarry?”

  “We are,” said Jessamine, unsu
rprised that he knew. “Thank you for your time.”

  They left the building. “We need to discuss things; we must get to somewhere quiet,” she said.

  “Surely we cannot meet Rodney.” Jackson was disturbed. “The game would be up; he would know us to be here under false pretences.”

  “I know,” she said. “It will not be a problem. We will be away long before that is a possibility. Let us get a cup of Cofé while we decide our next move. I spied a house on the other side of the square when we arrived.”

  They sat in the Cofé house. “We have a lot to tell Langdon,” said Jackson, once the waitress had departed. “About the town and Rodney, his estate and what goes on there. I think that it all fits together. If you are not willing to agree with my assumptions, we must decide how much to tell him.”

  “Just give him the facts,” she cautioned him. “Save your opinions until we have seen beyond the wall.”

  “Very well,” Jackson said. “Do you think Silas will have someone listening for our call? Can we risk the speakers?”

  “They will go through an exchange in town; there is always the chance of eavesdropping.”

  “I have an idea,” suggested Jackson. “I read in my journal that the flying machine carries the mails, as well as passengers. We can send a letter, the return flight to the one we arrived on will take it

  securely and the delivery boy will hand it to Langdon tomorrow.”

  “We should do both,” she said. “If they are watching the speakers, then they will realise that I am not talking to my father. I can write several letters, addressed to various people and include the important one. You can call Fairview in my stead, pretending that he is your uncle or some other relative and pass information cryptically. You have practised that, have you not?”