A Victorian Tale: A Puppet Masters' of Time Novel

3. Introducing an Inventor & a Muse

It was five years ago. Shortly after, he graduated from the Academy. His colleagues discussed amongst themselves the possibilities of time travel, and of theories that such things as travel beyond the limits of space and time perhaps were already possible. He had scoffed at his friends' ideas. He was a true inventor. He wished to improve the conditions of the poor with technology that would be inexpensive and provide them with clean water despite the smog-laden skies over Main City. But just as he had laughed at their proposals, so did his so-called friends.

"And what sort of benefit would that have for us?" "Indeed! Then they'll expect us to solve all their problems!"

It happened as he stormed out of the tavern the men were drinking at, drinking themselves to oblivion. The papers to his plans of the prototype he'd been working on, clutched neatly under his arms, he strode down the street so deep within his thoughts that he didn't acknowledge the man until his papers were strewn across the cobbled street and he was flat on his back. A few drunks laughed uproariously as they passed, pointing at him as he was strewn about, not even bothering to help him up or help him collect his papers. It was instead the man he bumped into who helped him to his feet and helped him fetch his plans that tried to blow away with a sudden gust of wind.

"I'm very sorry, sir, for bumping into you. My mind was elsewhere."

"That's a pity since there is so much excitement in the here and now." As Tetros turned towards the man, he saw him looking upon his plans with interest, long silver hair brushed against the plans, before the silver-haired gentleman handed them back to him. "An interesting enterprise."

"Too bad it will probably never be built." The night had drained Tetros from all his previous enthusiasm.

"What kind of attitude is that? Anything can be accomplished if you put your mind to it." With that, the gentleman with the silver hair turned away and continued down the cobble street cane tapping against the sidewalk in a steady rhythm but not before a large object dropped from his pocket.

As Tetros went to fetch it, a key, by the time he looked up, the man was gone and so was the sound of his cane. He tried to find the man once more, to give him back his possession as he was sure to need it at some time. But there seemed to be no talk of a silver-haired man...

"I'm done." A young woman's voice cut through his memories.

He looked down upon his side, "Indeed you are. Not that bad a job for the first time." He glanced up at her and grinned mischievously, "I'll be sure to come to you any time I need a stitching."

His amused gaze caught her blushing and turning away as she stated quite firmly, "I'd rather you not."

His gaze drifted to her hands still shaking and gathering the sides of her dress in tight balls. He grabbed her hand when he noticed a long scratch on the inside of it.

"Let me go, sir!" She'd forgotten about her injury from when she was searching for her boots, but as she tried to tug her hand away, it wouldn't budge from his firm grip.

"We should clean it. It would not do for my savior to get an infection, after so very unselfishly helping a stranger." He held onto her hand tighter as she still tried to yank it from his hand. "Stop that! You are going to hurt yourself further if you do that!"

Calliope stopped. He hadn't ever spoken so loudly to her in the short time she had known him but it wasn't to chastise her or criticize her; it was done out of concern for her well-being and thus she stilled.

"I understand. Do as you need to do."

"I would have done so either way, but appreciate your cooperation."

"Shouldn't you wrap your wound?" He looked at her as if he didn't trust that she would stay put, "After you do, so I promise to let you take care of mine." He nodded and opened the metal box once more and took out some clean medical-looking cloth.

As he wrapped his middle, Calliope peered into the box, it had quite an assortment of supplies.

"Do you injure yourself often?"

"Not as bad as this time, but often enough that it's good to have medical supplies on hand. I suppose it's one of the curses of being an inventor."

Calliope nodded at his comment. Her father's hobby of carpentry had similar effects. Her mother would always end up scolding him for the garish bruises and cuts that happened as he constructed another "masterpiece."

"Done." When she turned back to the inventor, he had put his now-only damp shirt back over himself. "Now your turn." He reached his hand out to her, waiting seemingly patiently for her to put her injured hand in his, and she did. "I'm afraid this will sting, quite terribly, in fact."

"Just do it." She winced as his fingertips grazed over her sensitive palm. "After all, you've undergone much more pain than I'm about to."

"You don't have to put such a brave face on." He popped open the bottle with the cork in between his teeth. "You are allowed to shed a tear if you must."

Calliope stared into his eyes as tilted the bottle over her own wound, gritting her teeth, refusing to cry out as the cool liquid seeped into the folds of her cut and bubbled between the cracks causing a horrible burning sensation to go through her hand. She sucked in a breath through her teeth, and let out a deep breath as the burn slowly dissipated, only leaving a nagging stinging behind. Calliope closed her eyes and took in slow breaths, willing her heart to slow down its ridiculously fast pace.

His thoughtfulness and surprising gentleness broke through her pain. He handled her as if she was something fragile as if she would break. It surprised her after his earlier brusqueness. And for the first time in the night, she truly examined the man before her. He had short, dark auburn hair curling upon his forehead from the humidity in the air surrounding them; long pale features and intense gray eyes under surprisingly long dark lashes. His features seemed to be patch-worked together, and although on anyone else they might have looked terrible, somehow with his air of authority and confidence he pulled them off.

"Done."

Calliope looked down upon her bandaged hand, "Thank you." She looked back up to find him staring intensely at her face.

Suddenly, the whole room shook, as if it were merely a box within a merry giant's pocket.

"What's happening?" Calliope tried desperately to clutch onto something, anything to keep her from falling to the ground. "Is it an earthquake?"

The first time in the evening, the young man seemed unnerved. His eyes were frantic, even though his voice remained calm. "No, not an earthquake."

Calliope turned to follow his line of sight, to the wall behind her where a large timepiece hung upon it.

"It's nearly time for you to leave. The portal will be closing soon." Despite the unusual shaking around them, the inventor helped her across the threshold and back into the old ruins.

He paused for a moment before letting her go. "What's your name, my lady?"

"Calliope."

His chuckle brought another blush to her cheeks, despite the odd circumstances.

"The muse." He bent over her hand to bestow a chaste light kiss upon her knuckles before his worried look appeared once more on his face, despite his lighthearted comment. "It would be best for you to hold on to something." He nodded towards a tall, sturdy column nearly twenty feet away.

Confused, Calliope made it to the pillar just in time before a large gust of wind swept through the hall in the direction of the mixed-lighted room. Some strange force seemed to try to pull her from the pillar in an attempt to take her with it toward the man. She clung instinctively tighter to the pillar.

"What about yours?" She had to shout over the mysterious, impossible weather that had risen within the hall.

"Tetrosss...." His words were swallowed as he vanished along with the whole room that he had been in.