by Elise Kova
8. ARIANNA
Steam billowed over the platform, curling in opaque clouds from underneath the train and casting halos around the dim lighting of the Old Dortam station. It was the last train of the day to embark along the winding trail that curved through the mountain range to the south of Dortam and out toward the coast.
Florence’s inability to spend the dunca from Ari’s mission proved a favorable happenstance. It was handier to have the money in notes that were easy to exchange for three tickets on a sleeper car. Ari had initially been thinking of stowing away, but she wanted to eliminate the number of things that could go wrong. They were already traveling with a Dragon; the last thing they wanted to do was engage in any activity that could raise suspicion.
Ari stood with Cvareh as Florence approached the ticket counter. Iron gates extended on either side, and train staff waited at each of the small entrances. It was the only thing that stood between them and finally getting out of Dortam, and Ari was holding her breath at the thought.
Their disguises were simple but effective. The three of them would be medical travelers, seeking out the colder air of Keel—conveniently where the Alchemists’ Guild was located—to help with their highly contagious, skin-rotting affliction. Florence had thought of it from something she’d read in a book, and Arianna was content to not question. Flor was playing the nurse—the only one among them who could show her face.
Arianna and Cvareh each covered their faces with cloth medical masks and large goggles that hid their eyes. Ari kept her hood down to avoid too much suspicion, but Cvareh’s was raised. Luckily, his skin was a shade of steely blue that could almost pass for gray in the right light. It was the best they could hope for when the bloody Dragon couldn’t even make an illusion.
Then again, he could stop time.
His face became the sole object of her focus. Her hand tingled from where it had raked against his teeth. The ghost of his tongue ran along her skin. She wondered how her power stood up to his. He would know now, since he knew how much magic he expended to stop time and how much hers replenished. Were they well matched? Or could he indeed overpower her? Ari had never imbibed from a living host, and the notion suddenly fascinated her.
“I have our tickets.” Florence’s cheer was almost believable. Arianna stepped first, Cvareh half a step after as she’d instructed. They both fell into place behind the youngest among them as they approached the gate. “For the three of us.”
The ticket-taker tore all three tickets in half at once, passing one part back to Florence.
“Step widely, you two,” she instructed, waving them around the man and onto the platform. The train staff didn’t look twice. Between the mask, the goggles, the hood, the haze, and the darkness—Cvareh was passing as a Fenthri. A large Fenthri. But Arianna suspected that her standing next to him helped. “Don’t get anywhere near this nice gentleman. You don’t want him to catch your sick.”
Others on the platform took heed of Florence’s loud cautioning to the ticket man and gave them a wide radius. Ari smiled proudly under her mask. She’d helped raise quite the cunning little sneak these past two years.
“Let’s see… Our car is…” Florence led them down the long platform, continually checking the tickets. “Right here.”
Arianna had traveled by train a couple times in her life, but she was quick to forget how little traveling Florence had done. The young woman stared in wonder at the plush red carpet and patterned metals, embellished with fabric, of the sleeper car. Cabins lined one side of the hall, windows on the other.
Florence was so taken by it all that she momentarily forgot where they were going—a distraction quickly remedied with a small cough from Ari. Their cabin was small, as most were in second class. It would be tight, but manageable for the few days they would be on the train. This was a trip for business, not pleasure, and Ari was certainly not going to spend more than she had to on the Dragon.
One long sofa was on the right, a low bar for basic effects on the left. Over the sofa was a second bed that could be folded down from the wall. It was cramped with the three of them and Ari was stuck awkwardly shuffling around Florence and the Dragon to pull the curtains over their window and lock the door behind them.
“Flor, you did a great job.”
“I was so nervous, I thought I’d be ill!” The girl fell onto the sofa with a dramatic sigh and began rummaging through her bag for a foil-wrapped chocolate.
“It didn’t show.” Arianna pulled the mask down from her face and rested her goggles atop her head. Her eyes fell on the Dragon as he carefully inspected the metalwork with one of his bandaged hands. “Well, Lord Dragon, fashionable enough for you?”
“And how long have you been waiting to use that quip?”
Arianna was dangerously close to appreciating the Dragon’s adaptability in managing her sarcasm.
“But yes, it is quite fashionable. We would use wood on Nova for something like this. I’d never thought metal could look so… soft.”
The compliment caught her off-guard. Her immediate reaction was to probe for falsehood. But she could see none in the way he delicately traced the star-like shapes the intersecting diamonds of raised metal made. That sent her mentally pin-wheeling in the opposite direction. If this Dragon thought he could win her over with a more delicate approach to her world and people, he was certainly wrong. Ari sat heavily on the sofa, stretching her legs as long as they could go in the narrow compartment.
“Look, Flor, he admits the whole of Loom shouldn’t be burnt to the ground.” Arianna closed her eyes, satisfied at having the last word.
“I don’t think he ever said he thought it should be.”
Arianna cracked one eye open. Florence had the audacity to grin at her. Traitor.
Cvareh lowered his hood, his blood orange hair spilling around his head like a halo in all directions. In about thirty seconds he went from being a narrowly passable Fenthri to looking entirely Dragon. It soured Arianna’s stomach with the sobering reminder of why they were on the train.
“Don’t take too much off,” she cautioned him. “Never know when a stray conductor could decide to poke a head in.”
“That happens?”
“Sure, looking for stowaways or people who have overshot their tickets.” Florence gave Arianna a pointed look at the end of the statement, which Arianna held knowingly. It was their second time traveling by train together. The first time, they had been those stowaways in hiding from the conductors and train workers.
Yet another reason for Ari to be silently glad they’d had the money in cash to buy the tickets—she had the opportunity to take the girl on a train properly.
With a sharp whistle and some calls from the platform, the train ground to life. Florence pressed herself up to the window, pulling back the curtains just enough to peer out. Arianna watched the hazy lights illuminate the fabric in increasing frequency until they zoomed by in a race to meet the impending blackness that awaited them at the city’s edge.
Arianna stood. The gentle sway of the train was making her tired, and she wasn’t ready to be lulled to sleep just yet. She wouldn’t feel comfortable until more space was placed between them and Dortam. They’d never found out what happened with the Dragon Riders. They’d overheard whispers and hushed conversations on their way to the station, but no one spoke too loudly and no one knew if the Riders had truly left Dortam to return to Nova, or just left the area. The further they got from the city without incident, the more relaxed she’d let herself feel.
“I’m going to go to the dining car. It’s late, but they may still be serving something since the train didn’t get moving until just now. Flor, do you have a preference?” Arianna made it a point not to ask Cvareh.
“No, anything is fine.” She was entranced by the outside world blurring by as the train steadily gained speed. “Actually, should I go?”
Arianna’s mask was halfway on when her student recalled the illusion they were working to uphold. She considere
d this, weighing the options. “We can both go.”
“Why are you unmarked?” Cvareh’s attention hadn’t wavered from the cheek she had just covered with her mask.
“Because I was in the guilds before your kind.” Her skin prickled at the retort—at the memory of the time before the Dragons.
“Florence said you’re a Rivet.” Arianna glared at her student for imparting such information to the Dragon. He continued, “Why not just get the mark? Then you wouldn’t have to hide your face. Wouldn’t it be easier?”
“Because I do not want the mark.” There would be no way a Dragon could ever understand. It was like asking a Revolver to fix an engine, or a Harvester to use just enough medicine to save rather than kill. Even if she believed he wanted to understand—which Arianna didn’t believe—he still couldn’t.
“But you wear it anyway.”
The iron of her pin was cool under her fingertips. “I can remove this.” The man was infuriating, and she wasn’t going to defend herself to him. “Tattoos should be choices, not brands.”
Cvareh was silenced and seemed to heed to her words. The tattoos Arianna did bear burned underneath her clothing. They reaffirmed her position.
“Now, we are going to find food. Stay here, and don’t get into trouble. If you do I’ll—”
“I know, you’ll cut me. Or kill me. Or have me kill myself.” He flopped into the corner by the window and pulled back the curtain a sliver, just enough to watch the gray world slip further into darkness.
Arianna concealed a smirk under her mask. He was fun to toy with, more fun than she’d had in a long time. Sure, her jobs kept her satisfied enough knowing she was bringing a measure of harm to the Dragons’ system. But seeing an actual Dragon caused any measure of pain by her actions? It was an unparalleled joy.
“Are we going to make it to Keel in one piece?” Florence asked as the door closed behind her.
“That’s mostly up to him.” Arianna lowered her voice as they walked through the corridor. It was dim now that they no longer had the light from Old Dortam’s platform. Small sconces filled with bioluminescent bacteria in water rocked with the sway of the train, bathing the passage in a dim glow.
“Why did you take the boon?” Florence was still mastering the skill of intimidation. Her penetrating stare was nothing more than a harmless reflection of Ari’s own insistent looks.
“Because I want the wish.” She rewarded her apprentice’s efforts with a real response. The easy way out would’ve been to hide behind her hate for the Dragons. But Ari would give Florence more than that. She’d earned it with her boldness, and with the risk she was willing to take.
“Why though?”
Ari had carefully built her walls over the years. She’d made them thick and tall around her most guarded truths, and were constructed along the lines she’d drawn when she’d first met Flor. The lines kept the other woman just far enough away that Arianna could sleep at night with some small assurance that her student would be safe, from even her. They were the same lines that showed Arianna where the edge to oblivion was. It was the only thing that kept her plunging into the madness revenge begot.
These walls, her guards, were oddly shaped, however, and they let Florence see a picture that Arianna knew didn’t quite make sense. Ari had told Florence of her hatred for the Dragons and everything that the wretched creatures wrought. Flor was smart enough to also know that Ari was a woman on a mission. She’d likely figured that much out from their first meeting.
Not a single day had gone by in the two years she’d been around Florence that Arianna wasn’t silently haunted by the ghost of her failed mission. The banner had fallen upon her shoulders, weighted by guilt amid the winds of change that swept across Loom. It was the only thing that still truly mattered in her world—or would have been, if she hadn’t met Flor. It was an unfinished portrait that would now be the masterpiece of her revenge. And it was missing one brush stroke—a stroke a Dragon could give.
They had stopped walking and by the way Florence was staring at her, it had been Arianna who had halted their forward progress. Arianna reached out and laced her fingers with the girl’s. She looked at her apprentice in the way she reserved to signal the imminent announcement of the final word on a matter.
“I need this boon, Flor, because there is something he can give me. I will never be free until I finish what I made myself for. And, as much as I abhor the fact, it’s something he can provide.”
9. CVAREH
The train had become a moving tomb, the compartment his coffin. Cvareh had never had much of an opinion on the mechanical boxes that whizzed around Loom like hornets on unknown missions, but he was quickly finding one. He was about to go mad—or maybe he already had. For on the third morning, he found himself debating the fact with his favorite diamond shape in the corner of the ceiling.
There had been no magic whatsoever on the trip. That was a strong and fast rule from the great and always correct Arianna. Sarcasm and eye rolling aside, Cvareh didn’t actually disagree with the mandate. They seemed to have managed to give the Riders the slip by some miracle, and using any magic would only increase their chances of discovery.
He glanced over at the woman known as the White Wraith and wondered if the magic he’d imbibed from her helped mask his own. Or perhaps she had treated the inside of that bunker with some unknown substance and the Riders lost the trail. Cvareh was learning that his traveling companion had a knack for being two steps ahead and one calculation over-planned.
She also had a knack for being more annoying than a no-title upstart determined to gain rank through a back-alley duel. There wasn’t a thing Cvareh could say that wasn’t countered in some way. Honest questions were responded to with bitter retorts. It had him seriously wondering if he had somehow hurt this woman in a past life.
He rested his temple back on the wood by the window. He hadn’t changed his clothes in days—days! And he hadn’t left the room for more than the call of nature, and even that was with an escort. He felt like a prisoner on the run. Which, when he considered it, was almost exactly what he was. Though if he was caught, he’d be killed on sight rather than imprisoned.
The world outside the window had changed dramatically. Dortam was land-locked, nestled in a valley in the center of mountains. For a day and a half, they’d wound around narrow tracks high above sheer cliff faces. Overnight, however, the land had flattened and the train picked up speed as it shot out of tall hills and toward the flattening coast.
They passed towns and small villages that crept up out of nowhere and went running away toward the horizon as soon as the train passed. One or two times, they stopped at a small platform and a few people got off—fewer got on. But everything went as smoothly as butter gliding across a hot pan.
In his moments of frustration, Cvareh bemoaned Ari’s existence. But the farther he got from Dortam, the more he realized his spur of the moment decision to ask her to take him to the Alchemists was a wise one. He knew nothing of this world or its people. He didn’t know why the thin grasses grew so feebly, a pale yellow gray color rather than the vibrant viridescent to which he was accustomed. He didn’t know why men and women buttoned and bundled themselves like swaddled babes, barely showing any skin—often times not even their hands.
He couldn’t tell the highborn from the low. And it was difficult to discern who had wealth and power from those who didn’t. Everything looked much the same as everything else. Ornamentation on rooftops and windows was fine, but not outdone. Nothing stood out, nothing fell apart. New Dortam had been a world away from Nova, and even that was more similar to the cities he was accustomed to than these rural towns.
It was small wonder the Dragon King demanded all Fenthri be marked with their guild rank. Without it, there would be no way to tell them all apart or make sense of their backwards society. He kept such thoughts to himself, of course, as they were certain to upset his present company.
“Four hours to Ter.5.2,” a conductor ca
lled from the thin hall outside their cabin. “Four hours to terminal.”
Arianna stood and reached above them for one of the bags. She stacked paper money in perpendicular bundles, counting to herself. Cvareh watched her hands as they flipped through the bills, sequestering out batches before repeating the process. Her fingers didn’t joint exactly the same as his. Cvareh flexed his fingers, unsheathing his claws momentarily.
“What happens if it rips?” He should have known better than to ask the question by now, but silence and boredom had him in their hold.
“Then the bill is void,” Arianna answered as though the fact was obvious.
“So why make the money paper?” It seemed ill advised.
“What else would it be made of?”
“Metal?” Like on Nova.
Arianna paused her counting and looked at him like he was stupid. Cvareh was many things, but he was not stupid and the look made him bristle. “We have more important things to use our metals for than money.”
He stared as she returned to counting, wondering if he had actually said the comparison to Nova rather than thought it.
“Flor, we’ll barely have enough to buy passage on the airship, I think.” Arianna went back to ignoring Cvareh.
“Barely.” Florence picked up on the key word in Ari’s statement.
“I may need to do some work while we’re waiting to get on.” Arianna began laying out the belt and harness he had only seen her remove yesterday.
Cvareh had taken it as a good sign when the woman felt comfortable enough with him being in her presence to remove her weaponry. Though it could’ve just begun to chafe. He shifted to scratch an itch. Gods knew he had reached that point as well.
“Not as the White Wraith, I take it?”
“No,” Arianna affirmed. “I don’t want people to know I’ve left Dortam. Plus, I won’t have time for a job of that scale.”