The delicate strains of a harpsichord and string quartet whirled around a dozen revelers. Beneath a glimmering array of chandeliers and velvet drapery, a private soirée unfurled at the Palais de Castellaine, the most esteemed salon in Paris. The motley gathering of aristocrats and intellectuals toasted their maid of honor.

"To Madame Du Bellay, in commemoration of her glorious contributions to our homeland and His Majesty's campaign abroad!"

"Here, here!"

All but one stood and raised a glass. A slender rake of a gentleman remained seated. He leaned back in his chair, his expression sullen, one leg resting over his knee in a most uncouth manner.

Madame Sebastienne Du Bellay set her glass down and glared at her rude guest. "I assumed you, of all gentlemen, wouldn't carry a grudge, Vicomte."

Vicomte Marius Rouergue lifted his nose in a feigned display of snobbery. "Your accomplishments are great, though not so unusual as to be celebrated. Nature has deemed the fairer sex superior within the realms of emotion and motherhood." His taunt worked, though not in the way he expected.

Sebastienne leaned across the table, flicked an arm out, and struck Marius across the face with her silken fan. Wine sloshed onto the plain gray wool of his coat.

The other guests let out a collective gasp.

Sebastienne's smile curled stark red on her fashionably pallid face. The brass monocle she wore whirred with tiny cogs, and its thick glass lens extended to focus on Marius. Her uncovered eye glared at him. "I have proven myself an accomplished heiress to my father's work. His Majesty has commissioned me for many mechanical wonders in the halls of Versailles, among other more private works. And you dare to insult me based on a Philistine notion of male superiority? This is an age of reason. I demand your apology at once."

Marius dabbed at the wine stains with a handkerchief, his jaw set firm. Your inventions are not the only offerings His Majesty demands of you, he thought. And you spurned my love to advance through the court as a loose-limbed plaything. He cleared his throat. "I did not state that the female mind is inferior. I merely insinuated that womankind excels in the areas where her masculine counterpart does not. An apology would be irrelevant."

"Au contraire." Sebastienne rose from her chair. The grinding click of many small gear wheels resounded every step she took. "You've a talent for honeyed words and double-edged slander. Apologize. I'm waiting."

Marius knew her partly mechanical body all too well. Candlelight glistened over the bronze plating in her neck and left shoulder, as it once had when they'd found bliss within her private chambers. So many years ago. Ten, fifteen even? They'd been so young, and he'd been a fool to ever fall for her. He forced the memory from his mind as the full enmity which now festered between them sliced through his heart. "Forgive me, dear lady. I apologize that I cannot apologize."

She gripped his shoulder with hooked fingers. Bending next to her his ear, her breasts nearly falling out of the lacy bodice of her gown, she whispered, "I shall settle this with you later. You, me, one witness each. A duel. My machine against yours. Sunset tomorrow, at the crossroads west of my estate. Be there, or I'll reveal your secret device to the King."

Marius stiffened Though he wanted to strangle her, he accepted her challenge with a nod.

Hushed voices speculated around the room, fans fluttered, tall powdered wigs bobbing as the guests huddled in bewilderment. Sebastienne glided back to her position at the head of the table, her wide skirts swaying. A triumphant sneer crossed her face.

It was too much. Why in Hell had Sebastienne invited him here? Marius had come to this party on a whim, bearing the smallest hope she might have a spark of warmth for him again. Alas, she was still the wintery she-devil he'd come to despise. He decided to flee before he dug himself deeper into trouble. With a heavy sigh, he glanced at his pocketwatch. "I beg pardon, but it has fallen late. I must be off. Important work this evening. Adieu, Madame Du Bellay, esteemed guests."

Ignoring Sebastienne's stare, Marius strode out of the dining hall, through the foyer, and into the cool air of night. A groom ordered his gelding delivered in minutes. He'd ridden here alone, no carriage, for the ease of a quick escape if needed. Well, it was needed after all. With a sharp nudge of his heels, the horse tore down the road in a thunder of hooves and darkening prospects.

Rain began to fall, pelting his cloak and tricorne hat. How dare Sebastienne threaten him? If she told the King about his most private work, his clandestine machine, all could be lost. His Majesty might suspect treason, and Marius would very well lose his head for such a crime.

Tomorrow, at this sham of a duel, he'd show Sebastienne the true magnitude of his abilities. Let her grovel before the royal slop trough and spread her legs for the King's favors. She was skilled, given the the synthetic enhancements she'd designed to replace her own damaged body parts. Once Marius had admired her for them. Now, only betrayal tinted his views. It all meant nothing.

Times were changing. The bourgeoisie whispered in back alleys and dim taverns of mounting insurrection. Crowns and titles would surely tumble in the coming tide. Marius planned to be on the right side of the current when such came to pass, in spite of his own noble birth. He wanted none of his family's posturing or condescension, having disowned them years ago to pursue his inventions.

Only his perpetual motion engine mattered. All else was but tinder amid the spark of revolution.

***

Shadows reached over the fields as if to grasp the last rays of sun. At the crossroads west of Sebastienne's sprawling gardens and palatial great house, Marius arrived with his assistant and friend, Jean-Pierrre, in tow. Beside them, a towering quadruped automaton lumbered on thick, jointed legs. Le Diable, a war machine prototype unlike any known. Its brass rivets and tiny interlocking gear wheels of copper and gold shone in the fading daylight. The pinnacle of Marius' research and efforts hummed within, an engine powered by a wound switch capable of running on its own kinetic force.

If the King ever discovered such a gadget had been kept hidden, there'd be no end of trouble. His Majesty grew ever more paranoid of the volatile attitudes of his subjects. A potentially dangerous weapon such as Le Diable would invoke the wrath of every lofty personage in Versailles. Marius grinned at the thought. Let them come and play with my toys. I'll bring no end of grief to the lotus-eaters and their fragile palace of arrogance.

"I highly suggest we turn back, sir," Jean-Pierre mumbled. His dark monobrow scrunched as he surveyed the road ahead. "Could be highwaymen about. Or worse, the Royal Patrols."

Marius placed a hand onto Le Diable's metal hull and scoffed. "We'll be done and gone before the authorities come through. And have no fear of outlaws. I've inserted a surveillance module into the mainframe coil. Our friend here will sense any peril and assume the appropriate combat rhetoric should the situation arise."

"If you say so, sir." Jean-Pierre's eyes darted right and left, searching. "Anyway, I don't see Madame Du Bellay here. Might she have lied about meeting you here and set us up?"

"No. She'll come. Now be silent and wait." Marius dismounted his horse and led his small entourage into a copse of trees. If they'd been spotted already, there was little he could do. He could at least take precaution in the meantime.

Some time passed. Twilight seized the landscape in its encroaching gloom. An owl hooted in the treetops, and Le Diable extended a sensor antenna to analyze the scene. Still no sign of Sebastienne. Could Jean-Pierre be right? Had the feisty yet gifted daughter of the greatest engineer of the last generation failed to keep her own challenge?

The sound of approaching hooves quelled Marius' doubts. Sure enough, a mounted figure in a long hooded cloak approached. Alongside paced a thin but stalwart looking boy clad in a plain coat and breeches, his hair pulled into a low tie at the back of his neck. The boy held the horse's reins and muttered a soft 'whoa' as they reached the crossroads.

Swift and graceful as a diving falcon, the rider swung a leg over the saddle and dropped to the ground. Slender gloved hands pushed the hood down and revealed a face masked in the likeness of a leering demon. The faint scent of oil and lilac perfume sported on the wind.

Sebastienne's voice called out from behind the disguise. "Show yourself, Vicomte, if you've had the gall to arrive."

Marius emerged from the shadowed trees with Le Diable plodding behind. Jean-Pierre dallied in the background, his eyes wide as he studied this peculiar opponent.

"I'm here, Madame," Marius answered. "And now you will meet your attrition."

Laughter tolled from Sebastienne's metal-plated throat. "We'll see about that." She tore the cloak off and flung it at her boy, who scurried to catch it.

Marius' mouth dropped open at the sight of Sebastienne's gleaming metallic armor. Her entire body was encased in bronze and silver, with a fleur-de-lis engraved upon the breastpiece. She lifted her arms, and an ominous click and snap followed. The hollow barrels of firearms appeared along her wrists and shoulders, and two long bayonets extended from slots embedded beneath her hands.

A specialized suit of some kind. But how did she generate the power for such a thing when it swathed so closely around her figure? Even as Marius' mind spun with curiosity, he answered her summons with a wave toward his own invention.

"Etiquette be damned," he said. "Diable, attaque!"

The automaton buzzed with subtle currents of electric and etheric drive and charged down the earthen lane.

With a shout, the lithe, mechanically-embellished Madame du Bellay ordered her boy to lead the horse aside, then she crouched low for the onslaught.

Le Diable's shell slid open as it loped toward its target. Segmented appendages reached out, each tipped with a rotating sawblade. Miniature brass cannons whipped from vents at the rear of its hull and curved up like long, arched tails. All weaponry pointed at Sebastienne.

A showdown only, not a bloodbath. Marius had installed specific commands into Diable's circuit banks before they'd left the workshop. Just a little roughing up to show her who truly owned the most efficient combat machine. He didn't want to kill her. As to Sebastienne's intent, he couldn't say. Too late, anyway. He could only trust in his creation's incredible endurance against this upstart temptress.

Once they'd been guildmates. Then lovers, Now, Sebastienne was his nemesis, and he loathed her for abandoning him and seeking the advantages of being a royal mistress. Yet his heart still surged with admiration for her ferocity and cleverness. After the fire which had destroyed the left side of her body, she'd used her talents to manufacture a mechanical new persona and could now maneuver faster and more precisely than any unaltered person.

When Le Diable barreled at her, she sprang out of the way and landed a good distance to the side of the road. Her munitions fired, bullets peppering the automaton's frame. The acrid scent of gunsmoke filled the air. Diable retorted with a strafe of its own guns, aimed low to press her, not harm her.

Sebastienne danced between the thrash of sawblades and iron shot unscathed, her own blades scraping along Diable's reinforced sides and joints. She cried out a curse which would never fall from the lips of a proper lady and struck again, this time at the automaton's glass-paned optic sensors.

Diable swung its wedged head away from the blow and paused its assault. Metal folded in on itself, and corrugated sheets of solid tin branched into a new form. The quadruped body lurched upright and stood on two legs, with a fan of multi-armed gun turrets spread around its torso.

From the still-blinking round gauge panels on its side, Marius noted that Diable's power was still well above half. Plenty to finish the match.

As the automaton assumed its new stance, Sebastienne laughed over her shoulder at Marius. "Your war machine is splendid, Vicomte. I am impressed with its transformation sequence. " She flung the mask off, revealing her soft, flushed face and eyes narrowing with a wide grin. Then, as if an unseen orchestra resumed its flourish, she dove again into battle.

It continued thus for a good while, the give and take, lunge and dodge minuet between this cottage-sized machine and its nimble competitor. Neither could gain an edge for long. Marius eyed his pocketwatch and wondered if this would come to a draw, orif Sebastienne would simply outlast the power banks ot the automaton after all. Her own devices seemed well-charged, and she showed no sign of tiring. An asset perhaps of being half-machine.

Almost half an hour had passed. Jean=Pierre stood beside Marius with a worried expression. "Something's got to give soon," he said. "We risk encountering the patrols in—"

As if in reply to Jean-Pierre's urgent prodding, a musket cracked through the night., and then another. The shot pinged off of Diable's metal casing and hit Sebastienne in the shoulder. She cried out and fell to one knee, and a dark red stain spread across the white linen of her shirt.

The boy who'd accompanied her shouted and ran toward her. "Mother!"

Sebastienne looked up and raised a hand. "Augustin, no! Stay back."

Marius' blood chilled. Mother? Sebastienne had no acknowledged children that he knew of. This boy looked to be a young teen, fair of skin, dark of hair, like Sebastienne, and a certain ponderous angle to the nose and jawline which was vaguely familiar. As the lad ran to his mistress, another shot whizzed past Marius, grazing an ear.

A deep male voice yelled from up the road. "Halt, fiends, in the name of the King!"

"The royal patrol! Retreat at once," Jean-Pierre waved at Marius.

Sebastienne groaned and dragged herself to her feet, the boy Augustin supporting her with an arm around her shoulders. She tore the shirt aside over her wound, and pale flesh stained with blood showed through, fused with the bronze and copper plating of her mechanical implants.

Programmed to defend against outlaws, Le Diable reverted to its quadruped form and swiveled its broad head toward the approaching patrol. Its weapons aimed, and a tense winding noise ground within its frame. Springs coiling for retaliation.

"Diable, fall back. Evasive action." Marius' voice wavered.

Diable lowered itself to the ground, and a hatch opened on its side. A space large enough inside for three people appeared.

"Go at once, sir," Jean-Pierre said. "I'll stay and distract them." He smiled, a grim sight as the patrol loped into view. At least twenty armed men on horseback, the plumed hats and livery of royal guards adorned their silhouetted figures.

Marius stared at Jean-Pierre a moment, stunned at the man's valor, then he ran to Sebastienne and Augustin. "Into the automaton. Follow me," he said. The three of them clambered into Le Diable, Sebastienne wincing as she bunched her legs to fit, and the panel closed over them.

Augustin hovered near his assumed mother and pressed a cloth to her gunshot wound. Sweat poured from his face. "Lay still. We must get you to a physician soon."

Sebastienne coughed, and a trickle of blood spilled down her chin. She squeezed the boy's hand. "No, no, my love. My time is done."

The boy's youthful voice cracked. "M-mother...I mean, mistress."

"It's alright," Sebastienne said. "You have no need to hide your identity in this company. The Vicomte here is your father, after all."

She laughed when Marius and Augustin eyed each other eyes and mouths agape.

A tight lump seized Marius' throat. He gripped Sebastienne's hand. "Why didn't you tell me? Why, all these years...the King...what have you done?"

She smiled, her eyelids fluttering. "I had to keep it a secret. The King demanded my loyalty in exchange for promoting my work, and I couldn't have a bastard child at my side in court. Surely you understand the price of success, my darling."

"But, this is absurd. Sebastienne." Marius took her in his arms. "I would have married you. Why desert me and fall into the false world of the palace when we might have had a quiet life together..." He choked a sob, numb with shock, and looked at Augustin. My son...yes. The eyes are mine, that obstinate chin. About the right age. Indignation spurned him into a flustered sputter. "The King will punish all of us for this. We must leave at once. A ship departs for Spain at sunrise from . We can flee together. Come with me."

Outside the automaton's hull. More muskets fired, and shot tinked against the metal shielding. Gears spun in mad flurries as Diable lumbered away, carrying them to a safe location, far from the King's henchmen. In flight mode, the machine was faster than any horse could ever gallop.

Marius clutched Sebastienne close to his chest and shuddered, She was listless, like a doll in his embrace. All sweet-scented skin merged with the cold grate of metal and springs. A tear stung Marius' eye. His love for her had never died, merely subsided under a veneer of outrage. "Live. Just a while longer, and we can be free together," he whispered.

Augustin stared, his face damp, and he reached for Marius' hand. "My father." His voice choked on the words. "She's dead. Let her go."

Marius tried to smile, but his mouth only drew to a taut scowl. "No. She isn't. She's always eluded death with her brilliance. She'll dance around it now like she skirted Diable's attacks. We'll find a way."

His own voice sounded hollow, empty as the cramped space inside of his life's work. They could reach the dock in time. They had to. He prayed for any God that might hear to deliver them to freedom.

***

After what seemed an eternity tossed about in the confines of a metallic war-beast, Le Diable delivered them to the docks. The hatch opened, and they climbed out. Marius glanced about at the nearby buildings, the ships in the harbor, no sign of any patrols nearby. He quietly thanked Jean-Pierre for the distraction the man had provided, and carried Sebastienne's limp body toward a nearby galleon.

Le Diable's power meteres flickered, and it collapsed upon itself into a box-like structure about the size of a carriage.

Augustin stared, face awestruck. "Will it just lie here for anyone to discover?"

"No." Marius switched a lever on the automaton's underbelly. "We all must make sacrifices for what we cherish most."

The machine hummed, and launched itself into the waves with a single leap. Water bubbled and splashed around it, and the metallic wonder sank into the dark shroud of the sea. No one would find it and steal its secrets there.

A few bribes and threats bought them passage on the Spanish trade fleet outbound at dawn, with a little extra gold lining the captain's palm for assurance of secrecy. The last of Marius' earnings. No help from his estranged family here. And yet, the loss of his title was a relief. Beside him was his new family. A son! And his only love, now at his side.

Sebastienne was weak, but she still breathed, Her pulse still beat within her veins. She could be repaired. Marius only needed the right tools. Any ship with a proper journeyman could provide those.

And then, beyond, to the liberating shores of sunny Spain. Would they find a new life there? He could only hope.

The ship sailed at dawn, and the rock of the waves stirred Sebastienne. Marius had Augustin lay her out on the damp boards. From the ship's engineer, he procured all of the tools he needed. A tightening here, adjustment there. Augustin assisted him in removing the musket ball, and they stitched the wound shut.

Marius knew his prayers had been answered when Sebastienne's blue eyes opened, and she lifted a shaky hand. "Wine," she moaned. "Bring wine."

He kissed Sebastienne's hand. "You shall have all the wine you desire and more, mon chéri. In Spain, the wine flows red and sweet. But it will be sweeter still if you marry me."

Her broken laughter thrilled his heart. "I shall, you bitter old charmer. If you'll have me as I am. I'll never stop inventing new machines. Be it a woman's profession or not, as you've said, I'll never be a conventional wife."

Of course she wouldn't . He'd known it since he met her. "And so it is. We're anything but conventional, my love."