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he do to combat that?
    He fell asleep wondering.
     
    #
     
    The next morning Rhys found Lydia waiting for him on the beach. Dressed in a work shirt of roughspun cloth and brown pants, she sat cross-legged in the sand. A cap shielded her face from the sun.
    “I see you wisely dispensed with the coat this morning. It didn’t suit you.” She adjusted the brim of her cap. Her shirtsleeve retreated up her arm as she did so, revealing a leather wristband with a metal dial.
    Rhys gave it a passing glance, amused by her preference for old breeches and odd jewelry. “I could say the same for what you’re wearing. The ensemble you wore last night was much more becoming.”
    She averted her eyes, hiding them beneath her lashes. “I cannot work in a dress.” She rose and dusted her pant legs of sand. “Were you seen by any guards upon leaving the palace?”
    “A few, but they didn’t stop me when I left.”
    “They may have alerted the king. We shouldn’t be out in the open. Come.”
    Rhys followed her as she headed north. The coastal shoreline soon gave way to the forested hillside, where Rhys initially sent Finley to find the quickest way around the island.
    Lydia took him to an area of dense green vegetation, treading onward to a copse of tall cypress that lined the perimeter of a columned building that matched Finley’s description of a temple. She climbed the well-trodden steps. “This is the Machinists Guild, formerly an ancient shrine to Hephaestus.” A crumbling statue of the Greek god stood at the entrance.
    “How fitting. A place that once housed an ancient god of forgers now serves as a meeting place for modern craftsmen. And women,” he added quickly. “Are there other female guild members?”
    “I’m the sole woman currently. One of the former Guild members bought a miniature clockwork piece from me when I worked in my father’s shop. He admired my work and invited me to study here.” Unspoken thoughts settled upon Lydia’s face as she pushed the cap from her forehead. Delicate was not a word to describe her features, but they possessed a character that Rhys found appealing.
    “And what of you, Rhys?” She pronounced his name accurately. “You know your Greek mythology and language. Who taught you?”
    “My mother. She was a governess before she married my father, a merchant sailor. She made sure I was schooled in the Classics.” Rhys came to the Guild entrance.
    “Was that why your country and its curio cabinet agency—”
    “Cabinet of Intellectual Curiosities.” Rhys corrected her, but couldn’t resist chuckling at her abbreviated reference to the COIC.
    “Why were you chosen to come to Aspasia?”
    She was determining his credibility. If she knew of his past association with pirates, he’d never acquire those automatons. “I used to sail the Mediterranean with a shipping company. Queen Victoria thought that qualified me to represent her in the region.”
    That explanation was true, for the most part, and seemed to suffice with Lydia. She said no more as she approached the sealed entrance of the Guild building. She removed the metal dial from her wrist, placed it in a round setting in the door, and turned the dial twice.
    A loud grinding occurred as stone grated upon stone. The first panel slid into a wall. The door behind it groaned as it opened.
    Lydia went through first, taking the dial mechanism with her. Rhys ducked in, running his hand along the cool, rough surface of the limestone wall.
    “Our meeting was taking place in that room on the left when your crewman entered.” Lydia pointed to it. “Since the door can only be opened from the outside, we left an automaton to stand guard by the wall.”
    “You should think about putting up a gate to keep Guild members safe.” It would increase the lifespan of bungling sailors, too, but Rhys didn’t care to share that observation.
    She walked ahead of him. Daylight provided dim illumination for their passage along the sparse halls.