Eros Element by Cecilia Dominic

observed something very strange—the maid and the men who must be conducting and fueling the train walking around with long-handled hand-looking devices and looking on and under their cars. The men also had long-barreled steam rifles, which from the glow on the handles had been turned on and primed long enough ago to be ready for immediate use.
    â€œWhat are they doing?” Professor Bailey asked.
    â€œI don’t know.” Iris tried to angle herself to get a closer look at the proceedings, but she bumped her head on the window and rubbed her forehead. A thunk and other sounds above her told her someone climbed on the roof and walked across it. The crack of a steam rifle made her jump.
    â€œAre we under attack?” Iris asked at the same time Bledsoe sat straight and asked, “What the hell…?”
    More rifle shots made them all duck and cower below the window line so as not to be easy targets. Iris found her head cradled against Professor Bailey’s chest, which felt broader and stronger than she had estimated.
    â€œMiss McTavish, your hair is tickling my nose,” he said.
    â€œStop complaining or I shall poke you with one of the pins from Bledsoe’s friend.”
    â€œThat would be worse,” he agreed. “No telling what diseases an actress’s pins harbor.”
    â€œI can hear you, you know,” Bledsoe grumbled from somewhere near Iris’s bustle, and she became aware of the weight of his head on her hip.
    After about twenty minutes of awkward silence during which Iris heard people moving around outside and a few more shots, the train moved forward again. Something crunched under the wheels.
    The maid, unencumbered by the clawed device, wheeled a lunch cart into the room, and her eyebrows raised when she caught sight of the three of them on the floor.
    â€œOh, I’m sorry, Miss, Professor and Maestro,” she said. “What are you doing on the floor? Do you need me to return later?”
    â€œCertainly not.” Iris scrambled back onto the bench she had been sitting on, and the men did likewise. She narrowed her eyes at the maid, who looked like she tried not to laugh at them.
    â€œWhat were you doing?” Iris asked. Both of the men looked at her, and she guessed they were irritated by her speaking first. It was bad enough her reputation would be at risk for traveling with the two of them unchaperoned, she didn’t need to be caught in any compromising positions. Therefore, she needed an explanation to put the situation in context.
    â€œIt’s the Clockmakers’ Guild, Miss,” the maid said. “They send little toys to crawl into Mister Cobb’s and other gentlemen’s trains to annoy them but also gather information. We take advantage of the stop for coal to clean ’em off.”
    â€œHow do they work?” Professor Bailey asked.
    â€œSome of ’em have cylinders in them like player cylinders, but made of wax, that they transfer information on. It’s too complicated for me, but I’m sure Mister Cobb will be happy to explain on his airship. The blast from the steam rifles shuts them down, or we catch ’em with the claws and squeeze them out of shape so they can’t move anymore, and the train wheels grind them into uselessness.”
    Iris leaned away from the fierceness in the maid’s tone when she talked about the devices’ destruction. She guessed the woman was more than a maid, perhaps a female guard. They did all sorts of strange things in the Americas. She wasn’t sure if the dual roles of the maid made her more fascinating or frightening. Either way, she wanted to know more.
    â€œNow, on to a more pleasant subject,” the maid said. “Are you ready for lunch?”
    â€œIt’s a bit early, don’t you think?” Professor Bailey asked. Iris and Bledsoe both groaned.
    By the time they reached the coast and returned to the land of green grass and blue sky,