Engines of Obsession: Chapter 20

Chapter 20: Responsibility

Turner hadn't been surprised at the younger Byron's anger. They'd led Anne directly to his home, however unintentionally, where she'd humiliated him effortlessly. The younger Byron certainly seemed more uptight than his genial, older uncle.

What had surprised Turner was the quick reversal upon the exchange of a few messages by wire. Wired messages weren't terribly cheap, and lengthy ones explaining the circumstances had to be extravagant. Turner could likely live for a month off of one message of the length needed to explain a fraction of that encounter.

Yet here he was. In a much more luxurious train car than the last one. Byron had seethed about it, but his uncle must have provided very explicit instructions.

"I wish I could stand up and enjoy this," Milo grumbled.

Despite his complaints, Milo seemed in generally good spirits. He was propped up on a portable cot, turning the private compartment into a makeshift infirmary. Gears and springs gleamed behind a glass enclosure, clicking any time the bed needed adjustment. Milo had his head slightly elevated, allowing himself to look out the window at the passing scenery.

Martin stood by the cot, hand gripping the fancy, enameled railing used for support. The nicer train car had less sway and vibration than the cheaper ones, but motion sickness was common enough that the bars remained present in every compartment. He was watching the countryside go by, frowning. "Wish it weren't so gloomy."

"It will be a little cooler up in Durocor," Turner warned. "Daytime shouldn't be bad, but make sure you take your cloak out at night."

Milo grinned wryly, "We had autumn back where we were living before, too. It is kind of grey out there, though..."

Turner looked out the window and nodded. The faint, rhythmic clatter of the rail beneath him made the view outside almost hypnotic, lulling into a sleepy trance if he stared too long. At the moment he was looking, the terrain was mostly flat, broken by occasional low rolling hills, but traces of mist still clung to the hollows despite the warmth of the day. The flat cloud cover above gave a gloomy, slate grey ceiling to the world.

As Turner watched, a few spatters of raindrops hit the window. The speed of the train was deceptive; scenery outside rolled past in slow motion, in contrast to the droplets that spattered on the window to race and streak the glass from front to back.

"What's Durocor like?" Milo asked. "Can I walk around by the time we get there?" He'd only been bedridden for two days, thanks to how swiftly Byron had booked the train, but the young man was not the type to spend all day on his back. Turner could understand that much, at least.

Nora, who had been adjusting the oil lamp in the cabin to give a little more light, looked over from her task.

"You'll likely have to stay in bed for a day or two longer after we get there, but we'll be there for a while, I think," she reassured. "I've been there several times, my family travelled there frequently back when they thought I might take over the business."

Turner could see Milo yearning to ask about that, the rare drop of Nora's background, but he'd learned by now not to pry when Nora was about to lecture. Turner could see the youth bite his lip to restrain himself. For some reason, Martin was smirking at that.

Nora probably noticed, but pretended not to, and continued. "It's an old city, actually founded before before the Old Empire, back in... I think 50 PE? Give or take. Its two main streets date back to that era, even, crossing one another in the middle of the city." She made a gesture with her hands, crossing one over the other to illustrate.

"It's a lot more laid back than Edsenburg," she reassured. "So if you're careful and move slowly, you can walk around and see. A lot of ancient buildings that used Imperial Concrete are still around. Once you're on your feet, we'll take you to see the Breaker's Gate. It's amazing. Still together thanks to that old concrete."

She smiled, "Just don't enjoy the wine too much. The region is famous for it."

Milo just smiled back sheepishly. "I'll be careful. Probably too pricey for us, anyway."

Turner had to chuckle, and gave Milo a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Opposite his injured side, of course. "Don't worry. Nora's gotten me back on my feet from worse than that. Just take it easy for a few weeks and you'll be back with us in no time. We won't head out to the wildlands without you."

Milo grinned back, "Thanks." Then he sobered up with a sigh. "I do still want to go. It's funny though. If you'd asked me a year ago if I wanted to find out what happened to the famous adventurer, Elina Vale, I'd have jumped at the chance. Now... it's less about the glory and more because I think someone should know."

Turner gave him a mild smile. "Just part of growing up. You did it faster than most. I just wish you'd been able to do it from me yelling at you, instead of all at once." He sighed, "Nora, let's give him a little privacy. I want to check out the rest of the train anyway. Bet the dining car is much better here."

Nora nodded, rising up from her seat to follow Turner out to the hall. "We'll bring you back something nice," she offered before stepping out.

Turner didn't head directly to the dining car. He stopped just outside the cabin, in the narrow hallway running alongside the opposite side of the train car. Here, he could look at the vivid greens and yellows of the turning foliage without getting in the way of the two brothers.

As always, Nora knew what was bothering him.

Turner felt Nora's hand on his shoulder, light and gentle. "It isn't your fault, Turner. We were all taken by surprise."

He shook his head. "But it is my fault." He sighed, gripping the rail tightly. "I mean... I've been training him to be careful, and he jumped at that chance. That isn't really what's bothering me. He's gotten more cautious, and if I'd made the time to tell everyone what I'd seen earlier, what I'd learned about Blakely... maybe..."

He trailed off, but didn't finish the thought. Might have beens were never something he dwelled on. "I'm more worried about the future. Those two are competent... good, even. I'd take them on plenty of jobs. But this is way beyond anything we've done before. They're just kids, and I'm dragging them around to fight monsters, all for my own satisfaction. I'm making mistakes, and it's going to get them killed."

Nora was silent as Turner took a deep breath, forcing himself to loosen his grip on the railing. His knuckles were white, and his forearms ached.

"Rowan," Nora said, quietly yet firmly.

Turner stiffened, his mental turmoil thrust aside by that metaphorical splash of cold water.

Nora squeezed his shoulder. "It wasn't your fault. It's only been about a month since this all started. Things are happening fast. We have days and moments of downtime, but you're a planner. A thinker. Always have been. But when it comes down to life or death, I know you'll act. I've seen it."

She squeezed again. "Nobody can be prepared for this. But I know you'll do your best, and your best is bound to be a lot better than most. Just be calm, think it through, and make the best decision you can. Just like always."

Turner let out his held breath in a quiet sigh. After a few moments to collect his thoughts, he turned his head to give Nora a smile. "Thanks. I sometimes wonder why you stick with me."

Nora didn't appear to be in the mood for joking, and gave the serious answer instead of the lighthearted one. Her gaze was still firm and level, blue eyes meeting Turner's with an even stare.

"Because I'd be dead now if I hadn't." She nudged his foot with her toe. "Now, pull yourself together and get back to being that rock we all rely on. Also, I hear that this train has an automatic icebox. Let's see if they have ice cream."

Okay, maybe she was feeling more lighthearted, Turner realized. He let out a laugh, "Right, you and your sweet tooth. I really am curious, let's go take a look."