The Infernal Aether (First Draft)

Chapter 16 - The Art of Persuasion

We entered the house at 17 Bedford Square to find Maxwell glaring at us from behind a smoking device. Our companion Mister Jones gasped as he took in the sight before us, a busy chaos of books, papers, tubes, flasks, engines and other miscellany.

"I'm a bit busy right now, Gus," Maxwell said. "Can this wait until later?"

"Actually it's N'yotsu we've come to see," I said. "Is he in?"

"Oh," said Maxwell. "Yes...He's in his quarters."

I looked at Kate and she led us up the stairs. After a pause Maxwell followed us.

"I thought you were busy?" I said with a smile. Getting no response other than a frown I continued: "You've sacrificed some laboratory space to give N'yotsu his own room? Are you getting soft in your old age?"

"It felt appropriate that he should have some privacy," said Maxwell.

"Yeah," said Kate from over her shoulder. "And with the sorts of things he likes to gather round him, its best he's kept out of sight."

"What do you mean?" I asked. Kate's words did not surprise me so much as further tweak my curiosity. N'yotsu was consistent in his claims of memory loss but there was much about him which seemed contradictory, or at least downright strange. His rather unprepossessing form belied a physical power which would put the greatest strongman to shame. He was quiet and unassuming and yet was somehow able to influence people's minds so that they would happily believe something completely implausible. He appeared to be a perfectly normal person, and yet we had seen him do things which were frankly impossible, like push creatures through solid concrete as if he were merely plunging them into a lake.

Kate answered me with raised eyebrows and then knocked on the door to N'yotsu's room. He answered it almost immediately, his body filling the entrance to his room. There was something different about him and it took me a moment to comprehend what that was. I had only ever seen him dressed in the most immaculate evening wear; he stood before us looking decidedly slovenly, having discarded his top hat, jacket and tie in favour of a decidedly louche open shirt. "How can I help you?" he asked.

"We have a situation which would benefit from your particular type of attention," I said and nodded to Kate.

"This is a friend of mine, name of Mister Jones," she said, gesturing to the old man, who was cowering in the corridor behind us. "He's been troubled by some coves who're menacing money from him."

"I believe the usual protocol is to call for the police," said N'yotsu. "I am rather busy here."

"Busy doing what, exactly?" asked Maxwell.

"That's not all," continued Kate. "There's something about this which you'd definitely be interested in. The cove in question has these bruisers that ain't human. What did you call them, Gus?"

"Golems."

"Golems? As in the Jewish folklore?" asked Maxwell. "Are you sure?"

"They were huge man-shaped pieces of animated clay," I said. "If you can think of another explanation then I would be more than willing to listen."

"Golems?" N'yotsu sighed and walked back into his room, leaving the door open. He picked up a book and sat down on the floor.

We followed him into the room, which was even more sparsely furnished than the rest of the house, with the only nods to comfort or amenity being the table and chair crammed into the corner of the room. The floor of the room put me in mind of a maze in the grounds of a stately home, but one designed by a demented librarian. Varied arrangements of books were laid around the floor in an order which seemed completely chaotic save for the pathways created by, presumably, N'yotsu's need to navigate around the room without treading on them.