by Gin Hollan
"The what?"
“Horse. Sorry, she's small. More like a pony,” Arabeth clarified.
“I'm going to need your permit, too," the man said.
They glanced at each other. “Sorry, do we need a permit?” Melanie asked.
"This is our first visit," Sam said.
The man looked at him, then nodded. "Fine. Follow me." He shut the wall, enclosing the wagon.
She would be perfectly happy if the crystals stayed right where they were. But something told her they would insist she didn't leave them behind.
"The registry office is this way," the man said as he walked off briskly.
// Chapter 16 //
"WE NEED A permit for a horse and wagon?" Sam wondered.
"Can't be far. I don't see any horses wandering around, but there are lots of carts," Graham said.
"So, those carts really are floating ... am I seeing this right?" Melanie asked.
"Like I said, they must be magnetic," Arabeth said.
The group travelled slower than their guide, caught up by the sights and sounds around them, and he had to turn around to make sure they followed when he turned a corner.
The office was a tall space, easily two storeys in height and narrow, funnelling people to a single counter. The counter was staffed by a young girl who stared at the horse almost the entire time they were there.
A series of simple questions, like how long had they been Modding (clarified as Tinkering), had they done a full apprenticeship or been sponsored in, and who was their mentor, got them a palm-sized piece of paper with the city seal on it, stating they were approved Modders with access to areas 248 through 351.
As they left the room, Arabeth saw a woman in form-fitting green leather pants and vest over a white blouse leaning back against a rail. She stood with arms and ankles crossed, and stared a moment before standing up and walking toward them.
"Follow me." She waited for them all to look before she turned and walked away as though there was no second question involved.
"I'm sorry, where are you taking us?" Arabeth asked.
"I'm taking you to the Modder's lair. Don't mind the name; it's a term of affection. Most of what goes on in this place is their responsibility. Our civilization is a constructed one. Now, if you don't mind," she said without any hint of personality, then turned and started walking away.
Graham leaned over to Arabeth. "I think I'm in love."
"You would be."
"Not her…. This place. The workings of it—I want to climb behind every wall and see what makes it tick, you know?"
"It does have its moments," Arabeth admitted.
Most of it seemed obvious to her. Winches, gears, levers. Where did they get their power from, though? If Arabeth could adapt their power source to run things at home, that would solve a lot of the power issues that they had. Blastborn was starting to grow upward instead of outward to conserve their already limited farm and grazing land.
"Getting homesick yet?" Melanie joked.
Startled, Arabeth laughed. "Actually, I was just thinking about home. Some of the things we learn here could be a real benefit back there."
"How are you doing? The crystals must be out of your system by now, right?" Sam asked.
Melanie walked on quietly for a moment. "I don't think so," she said quietly. "I'm starting to think this is permanent."
"Any sign of that shuttle?" Arabeth wondered.
"Are you sure they'll put up a sign?" Sam said.
"No, but I can't think of how else they'd mark it in a place like this," she said.
A smell drifted through, catching Arabeth's attention. Cinders. They had to be close to the Modders.
Their guide stopped. "Chemistry or physics?"
"Pardon?" Arabeth said.
"Which is your specialty?"
"Oh.... Physics, I suppose. I've never had to classify it. I'm a generalist."
"Ah, that's better! It's hard to find a good generalist. You'll enjoy the work."
"That's me as well," Graham said. "I dabble in all of it."
"Splendid. Stephen will be happy to meet you."
"Wait, what's going on?" Sam said.
"Aren't you here for the contest? Isn't that why you've brought crystals and travel under guard?" she asked, eyes locked on Sam.
"Right, the contest. No one has said a word about it since our arrival. Where do we sign in?" Graham asked.
"We're almost there. I take it you'd rather do the tour after that? With a Seer in your group, I'm sure a report must be pending.”
"Yes, that would be good, thank you," Arabeth said, going along with Graham's ploy. This was some luck, wandering in during a Tinker's competition. What was the objective, she wondered? Her plans to head home were shelved without a second thought. But what was a Seer? Or rather, who? Ah, Melanie, she suddenly realized, recalling the conversation with Mabel and her grandfather. That brought her back to the ‘what.’ What did a Seer do, and did Melanie know she was being talked about like that?
"They'll assign you quarters and you'll be assessed before being put on a team. Things get started first thing in the morning. Wait here. I'll give them your names and you'll be called."
"You know who we are?" Graham asked.
"Naturally. You put them on the permit. I can read, you know." She rolled her eyes as she walked away.
"Quick, what names did you put down for us?" Graham asked. "You didn't use our real names, I hope."
"Of course I did. I'd already said I'm Arabeth Barnes. It would be odd if somewhere on the lift I'd switched identities, don't you think?" she said.
"Yes, yes, but what about my name?"
"Are you hiding something, Graham?" Sam asked.
"We all are, in case you forgot. Suppose someone here is a historian. Remember that we're from a group of outcasts, right? Exiles," he said, his eyebrows raising as high as they could.
"Mr. Graham Halister," a man in a long blue jacket called out.
Graham dropped his head and took a deep breath. "Yes, that's me." He looked up and walked over.
"Your master's invoice?"
"Master? I have no master. What do you mean?" Graham said.
"Aren't you here competing for release of a debt or indenture?"
"What? No! That's ridiculous." He turned to the others, looking panicked.
Arabeth straightened and walked over, surprised to finally find a use for her finishing school lessons. "What is this about indenture? You must have misspoken. This is an open competition, for rank. For family distinction."
The man stood up straighter and brushed a hand down one side of his jacket. "Sorry Miss. You're early if that was your objective. That is next month. What is your name?"
"Barnes. Arabeth Barnes, granddaughter of Percival Barnes, inventor of the Elonium Guidance Tube."
"Barnes!" he barked a little too sharply. Lowering his voice, he continued. "Can you prove you're a Barnes?"
"What do you need?"
He frowned as if she should understand.
With a heavy sigh, Arabeth pulled out her pocket watch and handed it over. Few knew the truth of the watch, and those who did guarded its secret. Inside a hidden back cover there was an engraved note from the now-dead king talking about his gratitude for long service and release from all debts and debtors, and future freedom for five generations to come. He was quite a florid talker, so it covered both sides of a small metal insert as well as the inside back of the watch.
Arabeth twisted the chain fob to sit sideways and pushed it down. The back popped open. Eyes wide, the man reached out then pulled his hand back, leaning forward to read instead.
"I've only heard the stories," he whispered. "He was the best king any nation could hope for, to push back the withering horde, leading the charge himself. The last of the great magics. It would be the stuff of fiction, if it hadn't been witnessed by armies and scribes alike. And this is one of his inscriptions."
Arabeth pulled the watch back, closing it. "Yes,
he was." Maybe her grandfather hadn't been as off-the-nut as her family wanted her to believe. She loved him dearly, but his stories were a bit wild.
"Take good care of that, Miss. Not many can sport an heirloom like that, and fewer carry it with them. Now for the matter of your identity." He turned and pulled a small metal lancet out of a paper pouch and held it up. "Would you prefer privacy for this, miss?" There was a small crowd of his co-workers nearing.
Arabeth shook her head. She hated every moment of this. Hated the day she found out her blood was different. She closed her eyes and held out a finger for him to jab. "Let's just get on with it."
He poked her finger and held a dark purple light up, shining on her hand. They watched closely as a swirl of red and silver rose up out of the tiny wound.
"Silver!" A woman had been passing and out of curiosity had stopped to eavesdrop. "It's true."
Arabeth turned her head to look. The woman blushed and hurried away.
She moved her gaze to Melanie. "You want the truth of your heritage, and why we've been close friends for so long? Here it is." Arabeth looked at clerk. "Her, too."
Melanie froze. "What do you mean?"
"You'll see."
Melanie held her finger out as the man retrieved a fresh lancet. She stared at Arabeth, her expression a mix of disbelief and terror. The clerk jabbed her finger as well, and everyone closed in to watch. Hers was a swirl of red and silver as well.
"Is this why no one has been giving you real trouble? They know this about you?" Graham blurted.
"It has no meaning back home,” Arabeth said. “I've been told it's common in Blastborn.”
"Oh, I see," Melanie said, still confused. “But why me?”
"And what does it mean?" Sam asked.
His hesitation bothered her. It worried her, actually. In the end, her strange blood didn't mean anything, but this would change her friends’ core beliefs about who she was. She wasn't about to dispel the myth of her heritage here, where it could well keep her and the others safe.
"My grandfather was part of a team fighting an unnatural army. The only way they could succeed was by altering their own physiology."
"Are you still human?" Graham looked intrigued.
“Let's test you and Sam,” Arabeth said, then looked at the clerk.
"Of course we're human!" Melanie snapped. "She's got human parents, remember?"
"But that's why you always get that one doctor? I always thought that was odd," Melanie said, smiling.
Sam held his hand out for the man to test. His expression was guarded, and Arabeth couldn't tell what his motivation was, but at least he was willing. She already knew what his result would be. He had the silver, too. She'd known for a while, but it was a weird topic. She'd never told him.
Graham hesitated to get tested but the man insisted.
"You're taking this a lot better than I thought you would." Arabeth smiled at Melanie.
"Are you kidding? Nothing about me is normal, anyway. It's nice to have an explanation now."
Graham's expression clouded over when the test revealed his was normal human blood. “There you have it. I'm boring. Happy now?” he said.
Arabeth laughed. "It's all good, Graham. You don't want this." She turned to the clerk. "Thank you for your help. We won't forget it."
"But what about the competition?" Graham's voice went up a notch.
"If you want to come back in a month and compete as a guest, you can do that with Miss Barnes' or this other lady's signature," the clerk said. "You won't be eligible for any prizes, but you would be a great asset to any team, I'm sure."
“Since we're here, maybe we can spectate," Arabeth suggested. Frankly, she'd like to watch the competition once before any of them jumped in headlong.
"No, I'm sure we all have better things to do." Graham shrugged, nose crinkled with disappointment.
"No one is more disappointed than we are at not seeing you compete, Graham." She laughed. "You have a flair for the work."
He looked up at her, eyes wide, then laughed.
Sam frowned and looked at Melanie.
"He likes to make things that explode."
"So, we're staying?" Sam asked.
That made them all pause. Stay or go home. That was becoming an increasingly complicated question, but waiting for a month just to compete in a Tinkering competition was fluff.
“We can't afford to,” Arabeth said, her exasperation showing. She had a mission and people had to stop derailing it.
// Chapter 17 //
“NOW THAT WE'RE not being followed, escorted, or chased, I need to eat," Melanie said. "Can we grab something hot and fresh?"
"We'll need to park the horse first," Arabeth agreed.
"If there's a stable, I'm guessing it's near an exit or in the basement so the smell drifts less," Sam said.
"Let's ask someone," Melanie suggested, then stopped to point at something. "Or go read that."
They walked over to a large, colourful map sitting on a slanted pedestal.
"All right.... Uh, do any of you understand what language this is?"
"Symbols are symbols," Graham said, leaning in to look.
"Look for a town hall or mayor's office. Whatever they'd call it here," Melanie said.
"Aha!" Arabeth said, pointing at a small blue square. "That is a hotel. They'll know where everything is. They may even have a map."
Melanie made a face. "Fine, we'll take the easy answer."
When everyone laughed, it was like their tension evaporated. Arabeth wondered if they'd ever operate as a team, even with Graham's impending defection. It was good to see Sam smile again. And laughing. They'd needed that.
She locked the moment away in her memory, knowing that she had hard days coming. Confronting a king over an incursion could get her killed, maybe ... probably. She needed a strategy.
They found the hotel, and to Arabeth's relief, it had a six-stall stable. The doors into the lobby stood twenty feet tall, but narrow, with a lounge area that was more coffee shop that waiting area. The stable sat around to the right.
"What is your horse's name?" the hotel clerk asked. It was another young woman. Was this normal here?
"Dave," Sam said.
"What?" Arabeth said, almost laughing as she lifted Marble off the horse's back.
"I've never named a horse before. This one seems like a Dave."
"Except that it's a mare. She needs a girl's name," Arabeth said.
"Then Davin. That name works for both genders," he said.
"Sure. Davin." She turned to the hotel clerk. "The horse's name is Davin."
The horse's ears flicked forward, as though it realized it was being talked about. Arabeth ran her hand down its face softly, smiling. "I like that. Davin."
"Is that a short horse's name? 'Cause this is a short horse. Almost a pony," Melanie joked. "I've never been comfortable around horses, but Davin’s a good size to me."
Within moments they were registered and ready to get settled in. The clerk gave her a map. The hotel seemed large, being three floors up, with dozens of rooms on each floor.
"I'll take her to the stable. You all can get settled in your rooms and then meet back here for dinner," Arabeth suggested.
"Sounds good," Graham said.
"Graham and Melanie can get our rooms sorted. I'll lead her. You're carrying Marble," Sam said. "I want to see where our newly inaugurated horse will be staying."
Arabeth caught a curious look in his eyes and nodded. "If you two don't mind...."
"No," Melanie and Graham both said, exchanging a look.
The clerk handed them keys and explained how to find their rooms. "Take a chair lift up to the fourth floor; turn and go down the hall to the left. Your rooms will be on the right side, numbers 4211 and 4213." She handed each of them a key.
Turning to Sam and Arabeth, the clerk smiled. “Follow me to Davin's stall.” She walked to a wide hall off the main area.
"Here we are.” She pushed a h
alf-gate open. “She'll be kept in hay and water, but if you are here more than a day, I suggest you come down to walk her. They seem to like that."
Sam walked Davin into the ten-by-ten square pen as Arabeth marvelled that an underground city would allow so much space for one horse. Then again, she was paying very well for said space, and people probably usually put a couple horses in at a time. That was fine. Davin didn't seem to be a young horse, although Arabeth hadn't checked her teeth for age. She'd probably earned a bit of luxury.
Davin walked back to the door and watched them turn to leave before she turned to her feed, unconcerned. Sam put his arm around Arabeth's shoulder as they walked away. A clerk hurried past, not giving them a second look.
"I want people to know they'll have to go through me to get to you," he explained.
“It seems unnecessary,” she said softly. Of course he'd say this. He was always charmingly protective. "But it's probably wise, considering our circumstances."
Now, away from the assumptive glances and gossip of home, he was being more open about his feelings toward her. How had she never caught on? She considered moving his arm, thinking about how he’d never said anything before she got married. What man does that?
Forget that—how had she not realized her feelings for him? She blushed and looked away, pretending to look at the wall art as they walked to the dining area.
“I don't see them yet. Maybe we should find our rooms,” Arabeth said. “Good food tastes better with clean teeth.”
“All right,” Sam said, still resting his arm across her shoulders.
Using the swing lifts—an unnerving task considering they were using unmanned pulleys and levers—they found their floor. Sam put his arm around her shoulder again as they walked to 4211.
Arabeth tried her key first. It worked and she opened the door. Melanie came rushing over, grinning oddly.
"I'm not sure what kind of culture we've stumbled into, but they must have expected me to sleep in the same room as Graham without a ring on either of our hands. As if!" She snorted.
"Yes, a lady like yourself should be cautious." Sam smirked.