“And now you’re —” the voice of Ibb was cut off as Ellen’s snowball hit at mouth level. The invisible mechanical man spluttered as he spit out bits of snow and then said, “This is most indecorous.”
“On the contrary,” Rabel said, “it is our decorations which are enlightening.” Rabel hit the mechanical with another snowball, aimed higher.
“If I release the spell —” Ibb began only to be hit in the mouth again by Ellen’s expert throw.
“Is your caravan big enough for the four of us?” Rabel asked, gesturing toward the invisible object on the road.
“I’m sure I can find a room that will suit,” Ibb replied, moving toward them.
Now that she knew what she was hearing, Ellen had no trouble following the clanking motion of the mechanical man as he marched ponderously toward the caravan. Rabel gestured for the others to wait until Ibb had passed them and then fell in behind the invisible man.
Jarin gave Rabel a challenging look, to which Rabel replied, “He knows how to get in and where to enter.”
Jarin accepted this with a wary shrug. He fell in at the rear of the group. They reached the road and Jarin was surprised to see a dark door-sized opening appear in the air above them.
“Watch the step,” Ibb warned.
“I can’t see it,” Jarin returned hotly. Ellen gave him a reproving look over her shoulder, reaching forward and feeling for invisible steps in front of her. The young dragon-man tried not to feel chagrined at her expression.
“Shut the door,” Rabel’s voice carried back to Jarin as he felt for, and found, steps leading up to the darkness. Ellen vanished and then Jarin followed her.
#
“This is new,” Rabel said as he stepped into the large well-lit room. Ibb the mechanical man, turned to him and nodded agreeably.
“A little something I’ve been saving for emergencies,” the mechanical man allowed.
“I thought you didn’t like emergencies,” Rabel said.
“I don’t,” Ibb agreed. “And this one even less.”
“Trouble?”
“Many troubles,” Ibb corrected.
Rabel grunted in acknowledgement. Ibb glanced toward Jarin. And Rabel groaned in apology. “Ibb the mechanical, may I make you known to Jarin the dragon?” he said, waving a hand from one to the other. “And Jarin, may I introduce you to Ibb the mechanical man?”
Jarin gave Ibb a guarded nod of recognition.
“You’re the thief,” Ibb said. Jarin glared at him. “You helped Krea —”
“Krea…?”
“Now Krea Wymarc,” Ibb said, “if I remember the namings aright.”
“The girl who turned into the wyvern,” Jarin said in sudden understanding. He looked at Rabel. “She was your daughter but you were an old man!”
Rabel nodded. “As I said, I gave an oath to your father.”
Jarin turned to Ibb. “I’m not a thief.” He glanced at Rabel. “She took the money for you.”
Rabel patted a pocket. “And I have it, mostly.”
“How did you keep it from the guards?” Ellen asked.
Rabel gave her a sly look, as he said, “There are ways to keep things hidden.”
“I thought her man — that apprentice —” Jarin began.
“My apprentice,” Rabel corrected with a nod. “Angus Franck. He passed it to me when we met in the jail.” Rabel added, “I made sure he took some for himself.”
“That’s my money!” Jarin cried. The others looked at him. “I took it for Wymarc!”
“And now we have it, where we need it,” Rabel said.
“Need it?” Jarin said. Rabel nodded. “What for?”
“War,” Ibb said heavily.
“And more,” Rabel agreed.
“War?” Jarin said.
“Markel intends to take Soria,” Rabel told him.
“He and Ametza are plotting together,” Ibb said.
“How do you know that?” Jarin demanded.
“I have been watching this land for many years,” Ibb said. He glanced to Rabel. “You may remember some of it.”
Rabel shook his head. “I have not your years, old man.”
Ibb made a grinding sound that might have been a snort. “No, you are still a sproutling.” The glowing eyes of the mechanical man turned to Jarin and Ellen. “And you have become a teacher once again.”
“I learned from a master,” Rabel said, with a nod toward Ibb.
The sound this time from the mechanical man was harsher, less happy. “I hope that none of your students are as bad as mine.”
“What do you mean?” Rabel asked, tensing.
“I have mislaid my latest apprentice,” Ibb said with a grinding sigh.
“And?”
“And she had your child in her care,” Ibb said heavily.
“Ophidian!” Rabel shouted at the top of his lungs.
Wymarc is an adult, she can handle herself, Ophidian’s voice echoed through the heads of the three humans. Tend your business!
“He sounds testy,” Jarin said glancing worriedly toward Rabel.
“Who?” Ibb asked. “I heard nothing.”
“You didn’t hear the god?” Ellen asked, amazed.
“He can’t hear the gods,” Rabel told her, glancing apologetically to the metal man. “He gave that up when he gave up his body.”
“Oh,” Ibb said. A moment later, he added, “Doubtless he reminded you that Wymarc can take care of herself.”
“Except when she gets hit by a cannonball,” Jarin grumbled.
“Wymarc survived,” Ibb said.
“Half of her was killed.”
“Wymarc lives,” Ibb said. “It is Annora for whom we grieve.”
“They saved my life,” Jarin said in a low voice.
“She is much like Rabel in this,” Ibb said.
“You don’t know where they are?” Rabel asked the mechanical man.
“I had given her directions to head north, toward a sanctuary I knew,” Ibb said. “I have just recently received word that they did not arrive.”
“You can track your work, can’t you?” Rabel said.
“I could except that the tracking device has been disabled,” Ibb replied, his words spoken in a harsh mashing tone, as though he was grinding gears. “I would seek after them but…”
“What?” Jarin demanded.
“Markel intends on Soria,” Rabel guessed. “Using the airships —” he glanced toward Jarin “— that you, I, and Ophidian conceived —”
“Not without help,” Ibb added.
Rabel accepted this with a nod. “— for a different purpose.”
“What purpose?” Ellen asked.
“I was not told,” Rabel said with a sour look toward Ibb.
“I can only guess,” Ibb said. “I believe that there are great changes coming, changes that perhaps frighten even Ophidian himself.”
“What does this have to do with Soria?”
“I don’t know,” Ibb said. “What I know for certain is that Markel has many schemes in motion.”
“What do you suspect?” Rabel challenged.
“I suspect that Ametza is using this king as she used the last,” Ibb said.
“Someone is giving you information,” Rabel said.
“Many people,” Ibb agreed. “But, in particular, the madame of the House of the Broken Sun has been most helpful.”
Rabel grunted in satisfaction: he had guessed as much.
“I find myself concerned more with Ametza’s actions than I like,” Ibb confessed. “She has not behaved well since…”
“When?”
“Since Arolan was lost to her,” Ibb said. The mechanical was silent for a moment, then whirled as though thinking rapidly. “I believe that perhaps one of her plo
ts had worked out too well —” he glanced toward Jarin “— perhaps aided by your father.”
“Who’s Arolan?” Ellen asked.
“He is her husband, the god of water, ice, and steam,” Ibb said. “He has been missing for a while now.”
“How long?” Jarin asked.
“Two hundred years or more,” Ibb said.
“If we’re not going after Wymarc,” Jarin demanded in irritation, “what are we doing?”
“Tending business, according to your father,” Ellen said with a shrug. She caught Jarin’s fuming look and smirked.
“Ellen,” Rabel said reprovingly. She glanced at him. “It’s neither nice nor wise to irritate fire-breathing dragons.” The little girl’s eyes widened in alarm. Rabel smiled as he added, “At least until you know how make yourself flameproof.”
Jarin snorted. To Ellen, he said, “I promise not to turn you to ash for your impudence.”
“Always?” Ellen said, pressing the issue with a pleading, half-fearful look in her eyes.
Jarin regarded her for a moment. “Always.”
“Markel will march his forces and sail his airships in the next two weeks,” Rabel said to Ibb.
“He plans to murder his wife and marry the queen of Soria,” Ibb added. Jarin hissed angrily.
“That’s not nice,” Ellen said. The others glanced at her. “Couldn’t he just divorce her?”
“That would seem wise,” Ibb agreed in melodious chimes. His tone shifted as he continued, “But this king is not known for his wisdom.”
“Soria is an earth kingdom,” Rabel said to Ibb, “why would Ophidian want to help it?”
“I do not know,” Ibb said. “As you have noticed, I do not hear the gods.”
Rabel snorted in derision. “As I have learned, old clanker, there is little you don’t hear.”
“What’s your game?” Jarin demanded of Ibb. He glanced to Rabel suspiciously. “And how do you know this mechanical?”
“I’ve worked with Ibb for most of my life,” Rabel said with a reminiscent sigh. After a pause, he added, “Lives.”
“There are changes coming,” Ibb said. “They are great changes.” The mechanical’s innards whirled thoughtfully. He turned his glowing eyes to Jarin. “In this, your father and I are in accord.” He paused with the sound of wheels slowing down, then speeding up. “As I have said earlier.”
“Ibb has had thousands of years to perfect the art of lying without appearing to do so,” Rabel said drolly to Jarin. To Ibb, he said, “And what do you propose?”
“I think that it is not wise to allow king Markel — and Ametza — to acquire too much power,” Ibb said. “I fear that they will make war in the air.” There was another moment of whirling before the mechanical continued, “I cannot say what will be the outcome.”
“More airships would put dragons and wyverns both in danger,” Jarin said with a haunted look.
“And Markel plans to build fleets of airships,” Ibb said.
Rabel chuckled. “They’ll all be slow and poorly armed.”
“That will not help the people on the ground,” Jarin warned. The others looked at him. “Imagine cannonballs falling from the sky.”
“So what can we do to stop him?” Ellen asked. She glanced toward Ibb. “I’m learning how to make flames.”
“And you have an excellent teacher,” Ibb’s voice boomed inside his body as his gears turned his head and he raised a hand toward Rabel.
“Geros and Granna are the gods of the earth,” Rabel said to no one in particular. “They will have no defenses against an attack from the air.”
“Or the water,” Ibb said in agreement.
“So we must teach them how to fight in the air,” Jarin said.
“Would you raise the earth up to the sky, then?” Ibb asked.
“Yes,” Rabel said, his eyes gleaming. “We’ll do just that!”
“What?” Ellen said.
“How?” Ibb demanded.
“Well,” Rabel said, “we’re going to need a lot of help.” He nodded toward the mechanical man. “Particularly yours.”
“I eagerly await enlightenment,” the mechanical man responded.
Chapter Three
“My dear madame, it is so good to see you again!” Queen Arivik called cheerfully to the madame of the House of the Broken Sun. She was followed by a handsome young man who was plainly fawning on her, a silly smile plastered on his face.
“And good to see you and —?” Suzanne Parkes returned, fishing for the lad’s name.
“No Britches, madame,” the lad supplied with a smile. Suzanne Parkes nodded to him in thanks while keeping a tight smile on her face. Not too many weeks ago, the lad had been Alain, a very smart orphan from the southern lands who had traded his body for the safety of his younger sister, Lisette.
Lisette was still young and learning the ways of a maidservant at the House of the Broken Sun. She asked after her brother regularly but her inquiries had grown less frequent of late, as her duties kept her always on her feet and exhausted — as Madame Parkes had planned. Lisette was already getting envious of the ladies of the House — how they seemed always to be sleeping or a-bed. In another year she would be anxious to take on the less strenuous duties but Madame Parkes would tell her no… and in another six months the girl would beg to take up the trade, forgetting her brother, her former life, forgetting everything. Suzanne Parkes had seen it had been before, many many times.
Alain would not inquire after his little sister: he had drunk too much of the queen’s special ‘tea’ and now had only one thought on his mind — pleasing queen Arivik.
Queen Arivik seated herself and nodded for Madame Parkes to join her. She lifted the pot of tea that had been placed between them.
“Tea, my dear?” the queen said. “Let me pour.”
“Just a little,” Madame Parkes said, gently placing her cup under the teapot’s spout.
“A little is never enough,” the queen giggled as she filled the cup generously. She poured for herself and drank deeply, closing her eyes and — for a long while — closing her mind to the world around her.
When she opened them again, she had a beatific smile on her face. But she reached for her necklace and clenched the red jewel hanging from it — and her expression suddenly sharpened as she took a quick, painful gasp.
“Now,” she said, “what do you know?”
Madame Parkes raised her cup to her lips and pretended to drink.
“I have heard many disquieting things, your majesty.”
#
Peter Hewlitt, the king’s spymaster, knelt down before the king, thinking quickly. He had been sent for an hour before but it had taken time for the messenger to find him, more time for Hewlitt to collect his information, and finally he was here.
“I just had a very uncomfortable interview with the queen,” King Markel said. “She knows far too much of what is going on in my kingdom and I want to know why.”
Spymaster Hewlitt remained prostrate before his king.
“Oh, do get up!” Markel said testily.
Hewlitt picked himself up from the floor, keeping his eyes from meeting Markel’s.
“Well?” Markel demanded.
“It would help, sire, if I knew more of the nature of her knowledge,” Hewlitt replied.
“She knows about the invasion,” Markel said.
Peter Hewlitt allowed himself to relax, at least internally. “I thought we had planned for her to know about it, sire.”
“If so, why am I spending so much on that infernal tea and all those special ‘spices’ she keeps drinking?”
“The effects of her tea and spices vary, your majesty,” Hewlitt temporized. He was lying, and he hoped the king wouldn’t call him on it — as far as he knew the drugs and the tea leaves the queen used should leave he
r both addicted and mindless. Certainly all the test subjects he’d seen had lost their faculties with alarming ease. Admittedly, there were some circumstances in which they could regain some of their former mental prowess but it was very rare. That boy the town’s madame had provided, for example, was now just a little better than a gibbering idiot. “We were hoping that the queen would be happy to ride in the van of the army with you,” Hewlitt reminded the king. “Has that changed?”
“It has,” the king said sourly, glowering at his spymaster. “As you should know.”
“Sire?”
“The queen,” the king said heavily, “said that she would be glad to ride with me and the army providing the crown prince accompanied us.”
“Did you remind her of his journey?” Hewlitt said.
“I did,” the king replied. “She said that she would wait until his return, then.”
Hewlitt kept his expression blank. “Does she suspect something?”
“I don’t know,” the king said. “But if we can’t get her to go north with the army then all our plans fail.”
“We could arrange an assassination here, sire,” Hewlitt suggested mildly. He’d argued before that the king’s plan was too complex but had been overruled by the king with Mannevy’s support. “We could make it look like a Sorian spy.”
“No,” the king said, shaking his head. “She must go north.” He impaled Hewlitt with a gimlet stare. “I have my reasons.”
“Sire, if you would share those reasons with me —”
“No!” Markel barked. He waved a hand dismissively. “Your job is to ensure that she goes with me, willingly. Make it happen.”
Peter Hewlitt bowed and nodded, backing away from the king and through the open doors out of the throne room.
Outside, with the doors closed, Peter Hewlitt stood, rubbing his chin as he thought furiously. The only reason, he decided, for the king not to share his plans with him — the king’s spymaster — was because the king had plans that he did not want Hewlitt to discover. And what plan would a king hide from his spymaster?
Hewlitt dropped his hand to his side, his eyes burning angrily as he turned down the corridor. He had to make plans of his own.
Twin Soul Series Omnibus 2: Books 6-10 Page 16