Read Online Arcadia Snips and the Steamwork Consortium by Robert Rodgers - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert Rodgers
Tags: Steampunk, SteamPunkKidz
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mirror shard that had fused with the wall. "So what's the deal with Watts?"
Miss Primrose returned to her bag, opening it with a click.
Several shelves brimming with beakers, flasks, and mechanical curiosities folded out. Arming herself with a set of brass-framed magnifying lenses mounted on a leather head-strap, she turned to Snips and fired her an optically-enlarged glare. "I think the better question to ask would be what is the 'deal' with you, Miss Snips.
Why on earth has Count Orwick assigned what is clearly a criminal to an otherwise legitimate investigation?"
Snips tapped the lens aside, leaving her exposed to Miss Primrose's scalding glare. She waggled her eyebrows. "Maybe he thought you could do with a little illegitimacy?"
Miss Primrose scowled, snapped the lens back into place, and turned back to the ashes. "As for your previous inquiry, Mr. Watts is a brilliant investigator. Age has merely taken its toll. Thus the responsibility for solving this crime falls upon us—or more accurately, myself."
"Then why are you working for him?"
"He was—is—a great man. He deserves respect. As for my other motives, are they not obvious? Apply some modicum of intellect to your own question and I am sure you will stumble upon an answer."
Snips thought about it for a while, scratching at the back of her head. "Because you've got a thing for him?"
"Please! I would sooner be smitten with a toad. I work for him because it is otherwise impossible for me to solve crimes. And since you seem to remain insistent about distracting me from solving this crime, perhaps you should go ahead and make yourself useful."
"How?"
"Interrogate some of the staff here."
"About what?"
"About how many lumps of sugar they take with their tea!"
she snapped, then sighed. "About the case, Miss Snips. About the victim. About any data that might be pertinent to our investigation.
Now go! Shoo! I am working."
Snips turned to leave; just as she was stepping out, she caught sight of a curious thing poking out from beneath a rock.
Crouching down, she brushed aside a few pieces rubble and found what looked to be a burnt slip of colored paper.
Snips frowned. She looked to the oblivious Miss Primrose, then stuffed the paper into her pocket. Doing her best to remain unnoticed, she stepped out the door.
~*~
CHAPTER 8: IN WHICH OUR TITULAR PROTAGONIST MEETS THE DAFFODIL SCION AND MR. EDDINGTON COMPARES NOTES WITH THE MASKED MENACE
~*~
The Steamwork was beginning to sink into a deep lull; only a few men scurried down the steam-choked corridors. No one seemed interested in the small shabbily dressed girl who slipped through its halls.
Snips hadn't gotten very far before she walked straight into someone else and collapsed with them into a heap of surprised cries and paperwork. When she at last managed to extract herself, she was surprised to find a young light-haired man who resembled a frantic rabbit locked in a desperate search for his hole. In an instant, he was down on his knees, snatching up every document he could find.
"Late, late, late," the man said, muttering to himself.
"Terribly late! So sorry sir, didn't see you there, have to go—"
Snips rolled forward and perched herself in front of him, thrusting her face into his. The man squeaked and threw himself backwards, scrambling to flatten his spine to the wall.
"Hey," Snips said. "I'm a girl."
"You are! I am doubly sorry, then," he quickly responded.
"Uh—"
"Doubly sorry that I'm a girl?" Snips said.
"No! Doubly sorry that—um, I'm sorry, what was I sorry about again?"
"What's your name?"
"William," he said. "Please pardon me, I'm in a bit of a rush with these last changes, and I—"
"Right, right. I'm doing an investigation, though. Real important stuff," Snips said. As the man struggled to arrive on his feet, she sprang up and slapped her palm on the wall beside his head. He was a foot taller than her, but he cowered at her presence, holding the paperwork out in front of
Miss Primrose returned to her bag, opening it with a click.
Several shelves brimming with beakers, flasks, and mechanical curiosities folded out. Arming herself with a set of brass-framed magnifying lenses mounted on a leather head-strap, she turned to Snips and fired her an optically-enlarged glare. "I think the better question to ask would be what is the 'deal' with you, Miss Snips.
Why on earth has Count Orwick assigned what is clearly a criminal to an otherwise legitimate investigation?"
Snips tapped the lens aside, leaving her exposed to Miss Primrose's scalding glare. She waggled her eyebrows. "Maybe he thought you could do with a little illegitimacy?"
Miss Primrose scowled, snapped the lens back into place, and turned back to the ashes. "As for your previous inquiry, Mr. Watts is a brilliant investigator. Age has merely taken its toll. Thus the responsibility for solving this crime falls upon us—or more accurately, myself."
"Then why are you working for him?"
"He was—is—a great man. He deserves respect. As for my other motives, are they not obvious? Apply some modicum of intellect to your own question and I am sure you will stumble upon an answer."
Snips thought about it for a while, scratching at the back of her head. "Because you've got a thing for him?"
"Please! I would sooner be smitten with a toad. I work for him because it is otherwise impossible for me to solve crimes. And since you seem to remain insistent about distracting me from solving this crime, perhaps you should go ahead and make yourself useful."
"How?"
"Interrogate some of the staff here."
"About what?"
"About how many lumps of sugar they take with their tea!"
she snapped, then sighed. "About the case, Miss Snips. About the victim. About any data that might be pertinent to our investigation.
Now go! Shoo! I am working."
Snips turned to leave; just as she was stepping out, she caught sight of a curious thing poking out from beneath a rock.
Crouching down, she brushed aside a few pieces rubble and found what looked to be a burnt slip of colored paper.
Snips frowned. She looked to the oblivious Miss Primrose, then stuffed the paper into her pocket. Doing her best to remain unnoticed, she stepped out the door.
~*~
CHAPTER 8: IN WHICH OUR TITULAR PROTAGONIST MEETS THE DAFFODIL SCION AND MR. EDDINGTON COMPARES NOTES WITH THE MASKED MENACE
~*~
The Steamwork was beginning to sink into a deep lull; only a few men scurried down the steam-choked corridors. No one seemed interested in the small shabbily dressed girl who slipped through its halls.
Snips hadn't gotten very far before she walked straight into someone else and collapsed with them into a heap of surprised cries and paperwork. When she at last managed to extract herself, she was surprised to find a young light-haired man who resembled a frantic rabbit locked in a desperate search for his hole. In an instant, he was down on his knees, snatching up every document he could find.
"Late, late, late," the man said, muttering to himself.
"Terribly late! So sorry sir, didn't see you there, have to go—"
Snips rolled forward and perched herself in front of him, thrusting her face into his. The man squeaked and threw himself backwards, scrambling to flatten his spine to the wall.
"Hey," Snips said. "I'm a girl."
"You are! I am doubly sorry, then," he quickly responded.
"Uh—"
"Doubly sorry that I'm a girl?" Snips said.
"No! Doubly sorry that—um, I'm sorry, what was I sorry about again?"
"What's your name?"
"William," he said. "Please pardon me, I'm in a bit of a rush with these last changes, and I—"
"Right, right. I'm doing an investigation, though. Real important stuff," Snips said. As the man struggled to arrive on his feet, she sprang up and slapped her palm on the wall beside his head. He was a foot taller than her, but he cowered at her presence, holding the paperwork out in front of
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