by Kent Davis
“Arcas?” Ruby snorted. “Fancy name. Why not just call them all Grinder or Crusher or what have you?”
Evram eased himself down onto a stool. He took a spotted handkerchief out of his vest pocket and patted the sweat from his forehead. Ruby smiled. He was like the youngest little old man she had ever seen. “Arcas was a member of Actaeon’s hunting pack. It seemed a fitting name, you know, considering—”
“Ah, interesting!” Ruby was in no mood for one of Evram’s mythological story sessions. He would go all night if you let him. Information is what she needed. “Are you the only one here who can recharge a stone like that? Must be an awful passel of work.”
“Doctor Swedenborg is a very skilled chemyst, so I suppose he could if he desired. He says it is good for my discipline, however, so it is my job. It was much more tiring when the stable was full.”
When Ruby had arrived at Fort Scoria, the “stable” had been chock-full of gearbeasts, the little stalls complete with strange hoses hanging from the ceilings and the workbench equipped with all manner of odd tools, but it was a ghost town now, with only old Arcas left to stand patrol. Since the gearbeasts and all save three reeves had left, Ruby had to admit she was breathing a bit easier.
Ward Corson stalked into the stable, red hair pulled back under a black hood.
So much for breathing easier.
The reeve scanned the empty stalls. “Where is Arcas?”
Evram struggled to his feet. “On patrol, Ward.”
“Fetch her and place her on the wall walk, please, Hale. We may have need of her.” Evram nodded and hurried out. The ward’s eyes flicked over to Ruby, as green and flinty as her jade fingers. “Up to the walls, Teach. We have visitors, and I need everybody on the palisade.”
“Yes, Ward.” Ruby hurried off toward one of the staircases. Corson deserved her respect.
That was why Ruby gave her an extra ten yards head start before turning around and tailing her through the shadows toward the main gate.
From the dark underneath a set of stairs, Ruby watched Ward Corson open a small door set in the corner of the much larger gate. It clacked shut behind her. Up on the wall, Avid Wake stood guard, scanning the darkness, but she was looking out, not in. Ruby, heart in her throat, slipped through the little door and closed it with the faintest of clicks.
She was outside. For a moment she considered running, but just for a moment. They were in the middle of nowhere. She was on foot. The wards would track her down. Besides, her secret was tied to the fort.
Still, it was brilliant to be out of the walls. Ruby made her way down the curving trail cut in the stone to the open hillsides above the gorge. The bitter cold night cooperated with her, thick clouds hugging the bright moon, casting slivers of light and shadow across the plain. The ground advanced away from the fort like an avenue, bordered by more cliffs on the left and the deep canyon on the right. No sign of Corson, but it was easy to see where she had been headed. On the other end of the plain, at the edge of the forest, a large fire burned.
Ruby stayed in the shadows, edging along the cliff face toward the fire, until she settled behind a large boulder. It was the closest she could sneak without alerting the sentry lurking in the shadows of a tree. Beyond him Ruby counted a mix of women and men in stained and well-used buckskins, some New French, some Iroquois, all huddled about the fire to ward off the wind. Several of them wore the floppy cap of the voyageur: trappers down from New France. They fairly bristled with guns and hatchets. A fat buck, spitted and roasting, hung over the fire.
Not ten feet from the far side of the circle, Ward Corson stepped out of the forest.
Somehow she had made her way past the entire camp, sentries and all. Aside from a few muffled curses, the people around the fire held themselves together well. Muskets and clocklocks appeared, accompanied by hatchets and knives. A rail-thin man with a peaked beard looked up from his whittling, a half-finished bear. He cleared his throat. “Welcome to our fire,” he said with a heavy French accent. He gestured to an empty spot on the ground. “Would you join us? Some food?”
Edwina Corson shook her head. “No, thank you.”
The man narrowed his eyes. “Ah. Well then. How can we help you on this cold, clear night?”
“I have a request,” said Corson.
“We are happy to hear it,” said the man.
“I would like to request that you leave this particular stretch of land, as it is occupied.”
“We are just hunting. Traveling with the wind. We are sure to be gone in the morning. You are from the fort, up on the cliffs?”
“Yes.” Corson shifted her feet. The ten hunters all shifted in response. “I think you are not simple hunters,” she said.
“Oh, yes?”
“Yes. I think you are New France militia, or perhaps even French Army, sent here to test this area.”
The man laughed, short and sharp. “Well, and if we were, I do not envy you your position, mademoiselle.”
Corson’s face went still. “And why is that?”
“Well, we are ten, and you are one.” He stopped whittling and held up the knife, a sharp warning the length of Ruby’s arm. “And if we were those folk that you say, we would be remiss in our duty if we did not take you back to answer some questions.” He jerked the knife down once, a signal, and the group around the fire, as one, surged toward the reeve.
Corson sucked in her breath, and then she screamed. But not in terror. It was terror. It was a roar from the belly of hell itself. It knocked Ruby onto the ground, and when she scrambled up, what she saw turned her stomach. Ward Corson towered over the French, somehow feet taller than before. Scars crisscrossed her face and hands. Metal mesh crawled up her neck. Ruby held on to the boulder for dear life. No words passed through her mind, no thoughts even, just a growing howl of horror. Corson roared again, and the quivering, gibbering voyageurs ran into the night, leaving their equipment, their guns, and one half-whittled bear.
A moan escaped Ruby’s lips. A little one.
The Corson Thing fixed Ruby with its terrible gaze. Raw, red rage lay there, and the certainty that if Ruby did not run, she would be consumed by the beast that stood before her. It stopped her heart.
Darkness.
Ruby opened her eyes to a rock wall. Where was she? She turned her head. Edwina Corson sat cross-legged in the dying grass, framed by a gray winter morning sky.
“Welcome back,” Corson said.
Back? Back from where? The beast. The memories flooded back, and Ruby rolled, quick as she could, to sit up with her back to the rock wall.
“What did you do?”
Corson smiled tightly. “What do you mean?”
Was she playing with her? “You know I saw it. You changed yourself into a beast, a terror that drove away those French.”
Corson shook her head. “It was a Work of Spirit. We do call it the Roar of the Beast. If you hear it, you see your deepest fears. Your own mind supplies them. Whatever they saw, I think they will be running back up north with stories of a monstrosity that guards this pass.” She leaned forward. “And what of you, Cadet Teach?”
“What do you mean?” Ruby had fainted. But she never fainted. Except once, in the alchemyst Fermat’s tower. When she had turned herself into a barrel. Was that— “Oh.”
“Yes. Oh. How did you manage that?”
Manage what? Her pulse raced. She had obviously changed, the strange condition that manifested only when she was terrified. But what had she changed into? A barrel, like the last time? Something else? She had to keep her cards close to her vest. “It’s something that I do when I am afraid.”
“Why don’t you do it when Wake is beating the stuffing out of you?”
“You know her. She would have just kept kicking me, no matter what I turned into.” Ruby Maxim Seven: “A Sliver of Truth Makes the Best Lie.” The real answer was that Ruby had no idea when or why it happened. She could control changing as much as she could control the weather.
&n
bsp; Corson stared at her. “Why are you lying to me?”
Her stomach fell. “What? I’m not.” Brass it out.
Corson pulled Ruby up by her arm. “Very well. I do not appreciate your games. Perhaps the Swede will enjoy them more.”
“No! Wait!” She pulled against the iron grip. “Please don’t tell him.”
Corson knelt and looked her in the eyes. “Speak then, Ruby. I owe no allegiance to Swedenborg. He is not of the Reeve, nor do I approve of his methods. But I cannot help you if you lie to me. Speak your truth.”
“Ward—”
“We train spies and fighters, Teach, so a certain amount of disrespect for authority is part of the job.” She leaned in very close. “If you lie to me again, however, I will be done with you and give you to that man without hesitation.”
Sweat coursed down her back. The Swede couldn’t know. Wouldn’t this knowledge just get him closer to the answer he sought? She flexed her fingers. The ward was by far the lesser of two evils. “All right. I— I can’t control it. It just happens.”
“Do you know what you change into?” Barnacles, she was quick.
Ruby blew out her breath. “No.” She bulled on before the ward could interrupt. “Can we leave it to the lord captain? On his return?”
Corson looked at her for a long time. She nodded her head. “All right then. We’ll wait. But you must do something for me.”
“What? Anything.”
“Train harder.”
Ruby’s cheeks warmed. She still could not do a Work to save her skin. She cursed herself for blushing. The Reeve were her enemies. Why did she feel shame for not living up to their precious standards? She looked away. “I—”
Corson grabbed her face and held it fast. “Think on this. We train here to master the flesh and the spirit. I have not seen the like of what you did last night, but do you not think that Reeve training could help you with this shape-shifting?”
“I was captured. You don’t really want me here. You said that the first day. I am a prisoner, not a cadet.”
Corson inhaled once, sharply, and then clenched her teeth as if she were about to bite something off. “Shape-shifter. Reeve. Call yourself what you will. If you are a blade, I will sharpen you. I choose my students, and I think you are worthy.” She raised her eyebrow. “You are more than just a pumpkin.”
The wind whistled through the gorge.
Ruby blinked. “A pumpkin? I changed into a pumpkin?”
The ward nodded.
Ruby winced. “That, at the very least, should tell you that I can’t control it.”
Corson smiled. “Indeed.”
CHAPTER 14
The world is a jewel box brimming with the most delicate of secrets. One cannot access them with hammer and axe.
—Dr. James Sutherland
Every day they stole more of her blood.
Evram rolled up Ruby’s sleeve and carefully lined up the little point to a new spot amid the dense field of pin marks on her forearm. “Almost there,” he said. At least he knew his business. The point slid smoothly under her skin, and the glass bulb atop it began to fill.
At least today she had company.
Avid Wake perched on the chair next to her, board stiff and pouring sweat, her own bulb of blood almost full.
She leaned over to Avid and whispered, “Don’t worry. I’m sure their plans for you are harmless.”
Avid’s nostrils flared, and she looked away. Avid was scared of something? Anything?
“Would you like to have a look at my blood, Avid?” Ruby stretched on the chair like a cat, as Athena might have.
“Hold your arm still, please.” Evram blinked his pale olive eyes.
The older girl met Ruby’s gaze, a taut grin twisting her face. “I would, Teach, I would. The first time I saw it was my favorite, mixed up with the mud of the yard. Tell me, how do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Make your body pump out a normal girl’s blood, red as a cherry. When I know it has to be blue. Posh girl like you. Sweetling. Do you make it red for the boy there, just before it comes out?”
Ruby cocked her head. “It’s a secret.”
“Hold your arm still, please, Ruby Teach,” Evram said.
“Yes, please stay still, Miss Teach.” Doctor Swedenborg chuckled as he rolled a cart into the laboratory. “We want to put on our best face for Cadet Wake here. I’m certain you don’t want me to strap you down again. Do you?”
“No, thank you, Doctor,” Ruby said.
The Swede smiled at Avid. “So good to see you again, Cadet Wake!” Somehow she twitched even stiffer.
The cart rolled to a stop in front of them. On it sat a tall glass cylinder, mounted on a circular base packed with intricate machinery. Evram began tinkering with it. “Please don’t be fearful, Cadet Wake. You are here purely to provide us with a control element of a new experiment. I suppose you should be thankful. Miss Teach here is occupying my time these days, so I no longer require you and the other cadets’ . . . assistance.” Avid licked her lips and stared straight ahead. Swedenborg knelt down next to Avid and extracted her bulb, now filled with blood. “Evram?”
“Almost ready, Doctor.”
The Swede watched Avid’s blood swish around in the bulb, a faint smile on his face. You never knew what he was thinking. The anticipation exhausted Ruby, as if his delicate iron-strong fingers were always poised to close about her neck. “While we wait, are you certain you don’t want to do some more work on Avid? She has difficulty managing her anger. Don’t you, Avid?”
The other girl’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing. Was she shaking?
Swedenborg’s reptilian eyes flicked back and forth between Ruby and Avid. “You have her blood racing. That is certain.”
Evram straightened his shirt. “Ready, Doctor.”
The Swede handed him Avid’s blood. “Excellent. Begin, please. Remember, even progression of your Source.”
The little chemyst inserted the bulb into the top of the cylinder. Red dripped into the clear liquid, and a cloud bloomed gauzily downward with each drip. Evram placed both his hands on the base and cocked his head, beads of sweat collecting on his forehead. The cloud solidified, sucking in on itself until all that remained was a delicate sculpture, a perfect spiral that ran the height of the cylinder.
The Swede nodded. “Well done, Evram.”
The boy smiled shyly and then quickly produced all manner of calipers and instruments, rushing through an intense measurement of the blood spiral. After a few moments, with a plork, the spiral contracted into a single solid rock, floating in the center of the cylinder.
“Thank you, Cadet Wake. That will be all,” said Swedenborg.
Avid gave Ruby a venomous look and then scurried out of the room as if her feet had been lit on fire.
Swedenborg tittered. “Oh, she likes you, Miss Teach.”
“We’re going to start a sewing circle next week.” His titter turned into a laugh. The self-satisfaction just oozed out of him. Could she catch him off guard? Evram fished out Avid’s blood rock with a long net thing, and Ruby nodded at the cylinder. “This is amazing.”
The Swede smiled. “It is fascinating, is it not?”
“Oh, indeed. It looks like a brilliant device. Did you construct it yourself?”
His eyes narrowed. “Flatterer.” His eyes traced Avid’s path out the door. “You don’t really have anyone to talk to you, do you? Except Evram and me.” He leaned in and smiled. “Very well. I’ll share it with you. We are, after all, in this together.”
Chill fear climbed up her legs. She tried to keep it from her face. “Tell me.”
“I’ll show you instead.”
The Swede inserted the bulb of her blood in the machine, and another cloud descended into the cylinder, drip by drip. He touched the base with an index finger and clicked his tongue. The process happened much more quickly this time, but what formed was not remotely an orderly spiral. It was a riot of symbols. A thicke
t of whorls and lines exploding in three dimensions, accompanied by an equally deep thicket of intricate symbols, equations, and strings of numbers.
“Oh, my,” said Swedenborg.
“You were right, Doctor,” said Evram, voice tinged with awe.
“Evram, quickly, my journal.” The boy rushed it over with pen and ink, and Swedenborg scribbled in it furiously.
That . . . was her. Ruby did not need to manufacture the fascination in her voice. “What is it?”
The doctor’s breath clouded the glass, like a child’s to a sweets shop window. “They’re brilliant, Miss Teach. Whoever did this to you.” Her mother. “Your blood seems to have some kind of quality that allows it to be imprinted with information. It is changeable somehow. And someone used that quality to store a schematic. This piece is only a small part of it, I think, but this machine, whatever it is, must be built. I will—”
The shape collapsed all at once, leaving nothing behind but a floating red lump.
“Poof!” The Swede wiggled his fingers and closed the journal as if performing a magic trick. “We shall have to spend many more sessions together, Ruby, but we have made huge strides today!” He turned his hungry eyes on her, and the silver tinkling of his breathing accelerated. “You are a walking codebook, my girl, and I cannot wait to decipher you. My skill, your blood. Oh, what wonders we shall make.”
She stumbled down the hall from the laboratory, stomach roiling, mind racing. What kind of machine? How much blood? Why had her mother done this to her? And what use was any of this information if Wisdom Rool was not even here to tell it to?
She ripped open the door to the sand room, shutters closed against the cold night. The fresh-raked lines cast fluttering shadows in the light of the chem pots.
Something struck her on the head. She fell to the ground and struggled to her knees.
Avid Wake stood in the doorway. “You were funny back there. Let’s see some more of that blood, Sweetling.”
Ruby put up her fists. At least this was something she could control.