No, it was too dangerous

If Walter did not intend to use the watch, he would rather play it cautiously. After all, his sister he was able to predict, but a conductor on the Clockwork Railway? Even if his rank wasn't that high, the Clockwork Railway was notoriously protective of their employees. Besides, it was only curiosity.

“Excuse me,” the young conductor said, “but the train will be arriving in ten minutes.”

Walter nodded. “And I assume that you are just here to make sure all the passengers are awake?”

“Correct, young lord.”

Walter waved the young man away. “Please, I am no lord yet. When my father dies, perhaps, but even then it is only a minor house. I do not, I think, warrant the title of Lord. Mayhaps in the future I might earn it, but as is, I am of the opinion that you currently have more worth than me.”

“Oh?” The young conductor twitched slightly at Walter’s words before looking at him curiously. “Why is that, if I might be so rude as to ask?”

“You have a job, as far as I can tell. You at least provide something to this world, while I contribute nothing,” Walter said with a shrug.

The conductor smiled slightly. “Your words flatter me, little lord. Though, I do believe that you sell yourself short. Underestimating one’s self is just as bad as arrogance, after all.”

“Perhaps,” Walter allowed. “Though I think it is a more accurate judgment of one’s self. After all is said and done though, I will eventually climb to a position of some worth. Then I will be worthy of the title of Lord. A title which, if I remember correctly, you have just used despite me explicitly saying I was not worthy of it yet.”

“You sell yourself short once more, little lord,” the conductor said with a cheerful smile. “You are more of a lord than most of those that travel this line. They are arrogant, sure of their own superiority. You are humble, but sure of your own eventual superiority. That makes you more of a lord than most.”

Walter nodded at the compliment. “Now it is you who are flattering me. But please, just call me Walter. Perhaps we shall meet by some chance of God. London’s streets are mighty, true, but this is quite the small world.”

“Then, should we meet again, my name is Taylor. By the will of God, I shall see you again, little lord,” the conductor said with their cheeky grin still plastered on their face.

“I do believe,” Walter said with a frown, “that I asked you to not call me that?”

“Aye,” the conductor agreed. “But that said, you also told me that I am, at the moment, worth more than you. So then, why should I listen to you little lord? Unless you were lying?”

The young man scoffed at the words. “I do not lie. I cheat, but I do not lie!”

“Then,” the conductor said as he turned to leave, “I bid you goodnight, little lord. May you find your worth in this clockwork world.”

“One last question. Are you a woman?” Walter asked bluntly. He had been spending most of the conversation attempting to figure it out, but for every feminine aspect, there was a masculine one to counteract it.

The conductor shrugged. “As if the Clockwork Railways would hire a woman. Too likely to be harassed or something, I believe was the justification?”

So saying, the conductor exited the compartment, leaving brother and sister alone once more.

Charlotte smiled a little bit sleepily as the young conductor left to wake the rest of the passengers. “I like him.”

“Oh?” Walter asked, shutting the door and locking it once more. “Why is that?”

“Easy!” his sister cheered. “Because he managed to beat you in a test of words! Even Mother can only win half the time.”

Walter shrugged. “I blame a lack of sleep, personally. Though, that said, I’m still not sure I could have won. I have a way with words, true, but I have always preferred machines.”

“Of course, brother mine.”

“Now I really am beginning to think that you’ve spent too much time with Arthur, sister mine. He’s even infected you with sarcasm.” Walter gave an exaggerated sigh. “Alack and alas, my sweet sister hath fallen to the darkness that is sarcasm. Oh woe is me!”

“I have fallen to sarcasm, have I?” Charlotte questioned. “Then what of you brother? Have you fallen to sarcasm, just as I have?”

“No.” Walter shook his head solemnly. “I have, through years of careful meditation, learned to tame its awesome power. Now I wield it against all those who would seek to insult or otherwise injure my dignity.”

His sister’s rebuttal was cut off by the screech of brakes as the train pulled to a halt. Walter reached up and pulled his suitcase from the rack above the seats. A few seconds later, his sister’s suitcase joined his.

“Come, sister mine. I can manage to stay awake at odd hours, but if I could, I would rather get some amount of rest before tomorrow.” Charlotte agreed, following sleepily after her brother, now that the adrenaline from seeing London for the first time was beginning to fade.

As they stepped from the train, Walter looked around. His uncle was supposed to meet them here. And there he was.

“Walter m’ boy! ‘Ow ya doin’?” the large, broad shouldered man shouted as he pushed through the crowd. Walter moved towards him and raised an arm in greeting, his other arm being clutched by his sister.

“Hello, Uncle Thompson. It is good to see you again.”

Uncle Thompson gave a hearty chuckle. “Aye, tis’ that.” He glanced over towards where Charlotte was clutching to Walter’s arm barely staying awake. “Ah, but there’ll be time ‘nough later. Let’s get you two rugrats back to my brother’s place so you can get some sleep. And me as well, I’d reckon.”

“As you say,” Walter said, following his uncle with his sister and their luggage in tow. “Though two things, quickly. First, why on earth are you tired? Don’t you just sit about Uncle Charleston’s house all day?”

Uncle Thompson frowned. “I do more than that. I cook too, sometimes. Help out the servants as well. I believe I got in a fist fight with a goose once. And I read. Why, you’ll never find a better read sailor upon all the seas!”

“Not all together the most difficult thing, considering most sailors can’t read.” Walter sighed. “Though I guess I can’t really fault you for laziness, considering that I’ve never done an honest day’s work in my life.”

“You wound me, Walter m’ boy,” Thompson said. The man’s face darkened slightly, but Walter smiled up at his uncle to show that no real harm was meant by his words. The man may be a failed merchant who did nothing but sit about his brother’s house and waste the day away, but at the very least he was something. Which was more than Walter was right now.

“The second point,” Walter said, breaking from his thoughts. “I must admit, Uncle, I have never heard the word rugrat before.”

Uncle Thompson smiled, any touch of his slight bad mood at Walter’s blunt statement of his situation gone. “Of course not. I made it up myself, dinn ya know? ‘S what I call children. Ya know, because they’re like little rats, always scurrying around across the rugs like this and that and driving the womenfolk up the walls while the menfolk just look at them and go ‘I dunno see the problem,’”

“I do not think,” Walter said tiredly, “that I like being called that much. Neither my sister nor I are children. We are adults now.”

“Adults? Bah, you aren’t an adult until you’ve slept with a lass, drunk a keg on your own, and killed a man, regardless of your age,” Uncle Thompson said.

“I can see why father dislikes you so much,” Walter sighed. It was far too late at night to be dealing with his Uncle Thompson.

“Aye, you little rugrat you. He finds me disagreeable for all the reasons you like me, is not that so?” Uncle Thompson stopped walking for a second and turned around. “But here, no reason to tire you out more.” And so saying, he picked Charlotte and Walter up and tossed them onto his shoulder like they were bags of potatoes or the like. Waving to one of the servants that was nearby to grab their luggage, the man set a brisk pace towards their method of transportation.

“I do not think that I like being carried like this either,” Walter complained from where he was slung like a sack of potatoes.

Uncle Thompson turned his head to look at the teen on his shoulder. “Too bad I care oh so little for what you like and dislike.”

Walter sighed and resigned himself to the indignity of being hoisted in the air as if he were nothing more than produce to be sent to market. After all, one did not win an argument with Uncle Thompson. The teen had only met Thompson twice before, and the man was the most bull-headed thing he had seen. And he meant that literally. The last time Uncle Thompson had visited their family, some four years ago, he had gotten into a wrestling match with a full grown ox. It was an even fight, at least until Uncle Thompson decided to headbutt the ox. Only one of them was left standing after that, and to be sure it was not the ox.

“Alley-oop!” his uncle cried as he tossed Walter and Charlotte into the waiting car, where they landed in the backseat in a tangle of limbs. Their luggage followed quickly after, and soon they were driving.