The Iron Man [Serial]

The Old Town

Prim let Dolores drive his cab across the island to Vila Eivissa. I'd never learned, and from Prim's amusement it seemed our engineer was still learning. Prim offered to let me drive on our way back, so I spent most of the way there watching Dolores operate the steamcab. The rocky hills and pines along the road were like those across the Island, so I was not distracted by the scenery, only by Murphy's attempts to draw me into conversation about shopping.

My sight was drawn to The Vila as we approached. The span of white rectangular structures was crowned by fortifications of aged masonry. The Mediterranean style of it all, was something I had only seen in pictures, but the tall stone walls on the hilltop reminded me of home. Queensfort had been walled settlement and fort in its time, only in my hometown the buildings were of wood or brick with pitched roofs to shed snow in winter.

It seemed as soon as we moved from rough cross-island roadway to paved streets that the space between buildings narrowed. Prim coached Dolores on parking the cab, as Murphy hopped from the slow moving vehicle onto the stone-paved street. I waited until the cab stopped to exit, already wondering at the old buildings with decades-- or even centuries --of whitewashed plaster and the brightly painted wooden doors and shutters.

I walked toward a street-side display of light cotton Manual togs with single-color embroidery.

"We need to go somewhere else first," Murphy said to me. I had only half listened to his words in the cab, but I understood that I was expected to acquire regs and dunnage suited to my new occupation. I'd fled London with a sewing kit, barely three changes of clothes, and a few toiletries.

Dolores and Prim walked with us along a shop-lined street and up a slight slope, near to the hilltop fortifications. There was a cafe without outdoor seating, and a general store with souvenir items, advertising public wirefax service. The people were largely tan of skin with sun-streaked dark hair, but there were paler and darker complexions here and styles of dress indicating all castes.Even Dolores with red petticoat flashing from beneath a black skirt didn't draw much notice.

Our first stop was a leathergoods store. Murphy exchanged greetings with the clerk then said to him, "I need a holster for my field glasses and a leash for my bulldog."

The clerk nodded, then admitted us to a back room where he showed us to a leatherworker who was cutting pieces on a worktable.

Murphy rephrased his request, "I'd like holsters for a pair of Bull Dogs."

"You have the Dogs?"

Murphy nodded, then approached the table. He reached into one jacket pocket then the other and retrieved a pair of revolvers, which he set flat on the table.

"Safe?"

"Unloaded." Murphy lifted one small gun, swung its cylinder out to the side and angled toward the leatherworker's view.

"Where do you want to carry? Pocket?" The leatherworker took the Bull Dog from Murphy's hand.

Murphy beckoned me forward. "They're for my valet. What do you think, Jay?"

I whispered, face turned from the leatherworker, "For me?"

Murphy nodded. The conversation continued, as the leatherworker traced the outlines of the pocket revolver onto some heavy cardstock. Murphy said that an acquaintance who had recommended the shop had warned him no one holster may be suited to use with all Dress Code options. I decided this acquaintance was Garin-- though I Alpha's leather attire also likely came from such a shop --as the Battle Dance positions Sina had been teaching me seemed awfully alike to drawing and aiming. Yet, it had simply never occurred to me I would be expected to carry such weapons. After all, we had no war. The Pax Fashionista gave us our cultural non-war of fashion influences and occasional choreographed mock-battle through dance.

Murphy called to me to draw my attention; I felt much of this were being decided for me. "Is there anything else you need to conceal in your clothes?"

I considered this. "A pair of shears."

Placing an order for several holsters, we returned to the storefront were Dolores was examining a selection of leather goods advertised as "Dress Code Compliant support garments for citizens under Medical Code B." I had read of such codes but did not know what they detailed.

"I did not realize you had a condition," I said quietly.

Dolores shrugged, "I haven't, but I'd rather wear outer support than layers of chemise and corset and camisole. That's a lot of extra fabric that does not double as flotation device."

I laughed, having already learned our engineer's unmentionables had additional purpose.

"Has Prim gone?" Murphy asked.

"For other supplies. I'll put this on hold," she said, clutching one of the supports. "Then take you to Vlad."

"Is there anything else you need?" Murphy asked me.

I looked about the front of the shop. "I should have a wallet."

"Of course!" Murphy said in bright tone. "And belts in a few colors."

"I've only the one pair of shoes," I reminded him. Unless I were announcing myself as a rebel my belts should match my shoes.

"We'll find those. And a watch."

"I've never owned one." My father had, but it like he had been lost. I'd relied on clocks in my shop.

Murphy bowed his head and reached into his waist pocket. His watch hung on a silver albert with a crescent moon hanging from the drop. He unfastened the fob and pushed it toward my hands chain and all.

I glanced up to see Murphy looking back at me. It was an expensive gift, but not so expensive as buying me a new watch. I unclipped the watch from the chain. "It's too much to take this, and it suits you. I'll look for a ribbon fob."

Murphy accepted back his chain and smiled. "Ribbon would look smart on you."

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As I'm posting this chapter, we're near the deadline for The Wattys 2015, so, again I'd like to thank everyone who supported this work! I appreciate all your reads, shares, votes, comments and adds. The Iron Man was ranked 274 in Science Fiction last night.