Paragons of Empire

F3 Cycle 17 Prompt: RANDOM FIRST SENTENCE
Genre: Open
Word Count: Under 1500 words
Deadline: Wednesday, February 9, 2011 4:30 pm EST

Based on this cycle's prompt, I picked up the book I'm currently reading - Unseen Academicals by Sir Terry Pratchett - and turned to the 5th sentence on page 56. That sentence (in bold) serves as the inspiration for my story  fragment below.

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"'ow do I know I can trust you?" said the urchin. He peered up at the man towering above him. There was something slightly predatory in the looming stranger's aspect, especially when he smiled, which he was doing at that moment. The man straightened his duster, tipping his head in an almost thoughtful gesture. "Well. You rather don't know. Obviously. But...what choice do you have at present, hmmm?" The boy shuffled his feet, curling his toes into the crumpled dailies stuffed in secondhand shoes that were at least a size too big, focusing his eyes on the large man's clockwork assistant that quietly clicked and whirred from farther down the shade of the alley.

He had never seen anything so...shiny. It was a marvel. But it was also more than a little disconcerting, the unnatural sound of the mechanics humming and clacking inside the contraption's metal skin. As he watched, its metal head swiveled on some kind of pivot, scanning the crowded, noisy street beyond. Nodding, the child handed the precious package he'd been entrusted with over to one of Europe's most notorious scientists. "There's a lad", the man crooned, slipping the parcel inside his coat. He turned away and headed for the bustle of the lane, snapping his long, elegant fingers so that the mechanical valet trundled slowly after him.

Our urchin slipped unseen into the gloom of the gathering twilight, relieved at completing his task and anxious to not be late for his shift at the Blivet Factory. Well, almost unseen. High above the alley, perched on the rusty, pitted side rail of some crowded tenement's fire escape, there was a brief silvery flash as a small spring-and-gear bird shifted from one delicate tin foot to the other. It made a metallic chirp and alighted. For anyone looking south along the congested commerce road who may have noticed, the shimmering was soon lost among the shadows of the multitude of airships swarming over the city's rooftops in the gathering darkness.

Aboard such a curious vessel there was an equally curious young woman who was witness to the rapid flight of the mechanical dove. She wasn’t surprised or caught off guard at all by the appearance of what would seem at first glance to be a child’s toy in the midst of the hulking dirigibles. It was her sign that the man she had been searching for, as elusive as a spirit until now, had been located. And he was being tracked. Miss Jessamine Pennyfarthing, amateur archaeologist and lady of independent means, would very soon have the dubious pleasure of making the acquaintance of one Professor E. M. Whipple.