The Nullification Engine (The Alchemancer: Book Two)

by Scott Marlowe

  "Forgive me for overhearing, but may I ask what sort of business your father is in... Ms. Kelm, is it?"

  "Yes, Bella Kelm. Oh! I should have realized! You're not from Brighton, are you? You've the look of a sailor about you, and of course we get many river men and such coming through our city all the time, so I should have known."

  "Ms. Bella Kelm," Jacob said, effecting his own bow. "Jacob Madison, First Mate of the airship Griffin, at your service." Jacob was about to introduce Tippin, but Bella cut him off with an exclamation of pure glee.

  "An airship! How wonderful! Oh, you must allow me to come onboard before you set sail, Commander Madison. Even to set foot on such a vessel for even a moment would be enough."

  Jacob struggled to contain a smile. Folk usually reacted with such enthusiasm when learning he sailed on an airship. But Jacob found himself sharing in Bella's display more than usual. "It would be our honor, Ms. Kelm, though of course I would need the captain's permission—"

  "Of course you would! Please, will you try, Commander? And, please, call me Bella."

  Jacob didn't think Captain Kreg would like the idea at all, but he wasn't about to disappoint Ms. Kelm by telling her so.

  "I will certainly try my best, Ms.—Bella."

  Bella smiled again, reward enough for raising the captain's ire as far as Jacob was concerned.

  "About your father's business...?" Jacob hated mixing business with pleasure, but he also wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to learn more about a potential new client. "If I heard you correctly, you hinted he is in the shipping business. The Griffin may be able to provide services which your father's other transports cannot. You see, she's specially designed for high-altitude travel. I can personally guarantee we move goods faster than—"

  "Those men," Tippin interrupted, gesturing at the other side of the street. "They're soldiers. They wear the insignia of Norwynne."

  "That so?" Jacob asked, following the line of the sergeant's gaze. "The way they're sauntering down the street, I'd peg them as city watch more than soldiers." Which made more sense. Norwynne had no cause for sending soldiers here, as far as Jacob knew.

  Bella also took an interest. "Oh, they're soldiers, as your man says. They came to the city with the other refugees. The city's overflowing with new people. Many of the new soldiers and guardsmen have been given new duties, city watch and such, so you're not too far from the truth, Commander."

  "Please, call me Jacob."

  Tippin remained oblivious to their flirtations. His narrowed gaze never left the soldiers. "I'd best speak to them." Not asking for permission, he departed with a nod to Jacob and a 'ma'am' to Bella.

  Jacob watched him go for a moment, wondering what Bella had meant by refugees. He supposed Tippin was about to find out.

  "Jacob, while we wait the return of your man, please tell me what brings your ship—your airship—to Brighton."

  "Repairs, actually. We suffered some damage in a...storm of sorts. Some of the damage was to our engine. The parts we require are of a particularly delicate sort and hard to come by. So the sergeant and I have come into the city this morning looking for a tinkerer. That is, a brass or copper worker. Possibly even someone with machinist skills. We thought to ask around, to see if one might come with a recommendation."

  "I know exactly who you need to see."

  "You do?"

  "Yes. I've lived in Brighton all my life, so I know every part of this city and everyone in it. Well, not everyone. There are thousands of people here, after all. But I know someone who might just do the trick for you. His name is Mr. Pierrick, and I'll give you directions."

  "That's very kind of you. I wouldn't impose further, but if Mr. Pierrick is unable to take the commission, is there anyone else you might suggest?" Jacob needed more than a single tinkerer.

  Bella thought a moment. "There is someone...but he's in Falcon's Quarter. Most people don't like venturing into that part of town. Personally, I've never had any problems there, so I'm not sure what everyone is afraid of. But if you want to try, there's a locksmith, Derchan, who I've heard is pretty handy with small devices. If it's precision work you're after, he might be worth a try."

  Again, Jacob thanked the lady for her recommendation. All the while he kept one eye on Tippin to gauge the man's reaction to whatever news he might receive. He knew enough about what had happened in Norwynne that after seeing the damage here and the presence of so many refugees, many of whom he now spotted since he knew to look for them, he began to fear the worst. Tippin was engaged in conversation with three of the soldiers. The sergeant had his head down, shaking it back and forth while one of the other men spoke.

  "You never told me your man's name," Bella said.

  Jacob almost didn't hear Bella's question. Without looking at her, he said, "His name is Tippin Roe. He's not my man, so to speak, but a sergeant in Norwynne's army. Our paths crossed due to rather extenuating circumstances. This is the first he's set foot in somewhat familiar territory in a week or so."

  "Hmm," Bella said. "I don't imagine he's liking what he's hearing right now, then. I've only heard the stories, of course, but it was a catastrophe, if even half of them are true. The whole place is gone."

  "Gone? What do you...? Surely... I'm sure there was heavy damage, but they are rebuilding, are they not?"

  "There isn't anything to rebuild. It's gone. Everything. That's what people have told me. There was a girl and—"

  "A girl?"

  "Yes, a girl. Dark hair, young. I don't know anything more about her. People said she flew down from the clouds and brought ruin to the city. When she was done, Norwynne had sunk into the Barrens."

  Jacob said nothing as he absorbed the woman's words. Across the street, Tippin had a hand covering his face.

  "This girl... What happened to her?"

  "They say she went into the ocean with the city. You look as if... Did you know her?"

  "No, of course not!"

  Jacob hated lying to her, but he knew if anyone connected 'the girl' with his ship and then, by extension, to the whole sordid affair with the savant, there'd be hell to pay and the Griffin and her crew would be the ones doing the paying. No citizen of Norwynne had seen the airship the night of the dwarven raid or the next when they'd taken on their passengers, so no one here was capable of making the connection. Except for Tippin, Rail, and Jadjin, all of whom had come from the keep and wound up on the ship. Any one of them might let the connection slip, intentionally or not. It was a potential problem he'd have to bring to the captain's attention.

  Sergeant Tippin returned with heavy steps, oblivious to the traffic he stepped right into or the shouts from irritated drivers yelling at him to get out of the way. Jacob knew just by looking at his face he'd been told everything.

  "It's gone, Jacob. The whole damn city. It was the girl."

  "Yes," Jacob said, placing a hand on the sergeant's back to propel him away from Bella and Nod. "Ms. Kelm told me. It was a girl. A girl we're just glad is dead and gone and won't be coming to Brighton."

  "Dammit, Jacob. You don't understand. She—"

  "I understand perfectly, Sergeant. It's a damn good thing the Griffin never ran into her. Otherwise we probably wouldn't be here right now." Jacob gave Tippin a shove, which had the effect of setting him into a slow walk down the street. He walked as if in a stupor. Jacob then turned to address Bella. "It has been an honor to have met you, Ms. Kelm, and I thank you for the information. We shall certainly follow up with those individuals. As for the tour of my ship, I will do my best with the captain and hope to send you good news in that regard. Where may I send such information?"

  After giving Jacob the address, Bella was assisted into the mechanized carriage by Nod. Once the giant had taken the driver's position once more, the self-propelled machine lurched into motion and was soon lost from view amidst the avenue's activity.

  Jacob ran to catch up to Tippin. He did not like the expression he saw on the other man's face one bit as Tippin turne
d on him.

  "Give me one reason I shouldn't report you and your whole bloody crew to the authorities right now," the sergeant growled.

  Jacob hadn't been expecting that. Perhaps he'd grown too accustomed to the other's presence, and forgotten where the man's true loyalties lay. Tippin had his city and his liege, if the man was even still alive.

  "Lord Vuller, the Baron of Fallmere, is dead."

  Well, that answered that.

  "Norwynne Keep is gone. Thousands have perished."

  Jacob was at least thankful he kept his voice down.

  "You and your crew abetted these crimes. Do you deny it?"

  Jacob drew himself up. This was going too far. "Yes, of course I deny it. The Griffin and her crew had nothing to do with any of that. We were commissioned to transport the savant from one place to another. That was all. I swear to you, we'd no idea what he had planned for Norwynne. The girl... No one knew what she intended to do. She wasn't even supposed to be there."

  "But you forced her off the ship. You set her on her path."

  "No one forced her to do anything!" Jacob struggled to control his voice. "We don't know what happened with her. I told you that. She was belowdeck and then she just went...crazy. Do you think we asked her to blow a hole in the Griffin's hull and ruin the engine? We damn near fell out of the sky!"

  Jacob's rising anger had a countering effect on Tippin's as, after scrutinizing the commander for a few moments more, the sergeant stepped back and looked away. Around them, folk were beginning to take notice of their exchange.

  "I have to return to my company," Tippin said without looking at Jacob. "The men I just spoke with were stationed in a nearby barracks back in Norwynne, so they know some of my boys. Sounds like most of them made it out. I'll go check on them, make sure they know I'm alive, and then, if my captain—my real captain—will allow it, I'll return to the Griffin to do what I said I'd do."

  "Not necessary, Sergeant. Your duty lies elsewhere. I understand."

  "My duty does lie elsewhere. The least of it requires I tell everything I know. But I won't until after your ship departs. What happens after won't be up to me."

  Jacob wasn't sure what to say, so he voiced a simple thank-you and left it at that. Tippin walked off without another word. Jacob trusted Tippin. He'd give them the time they needed to get the Griffin back in action. After that, Jacob also trusted Tippin to make his report. Jacob figured four, maybe five days to make the needed repairs and get the airship flying again. They had that long to get the hell out of Brighton before the authorities came to hang them all. Jacob frowned, for Miss Kelm was not likely to get her tour after all.

  8. Lurkers

  ACHARAT, CHIEF OF RATS, WAITED at the fringes of Xirklx's central square. The communal gathering place, lit throughout by the flames of evenly spaced braziers, was filled to capacity. Another of Rachna's gatherings, Acharat thought with tired annoyance. This time, though, it looked as if he'd outdone himself, for Acharat estimated the entire population was in attendance. Some six hundred-odd skeva, all gathered here to listen to Rachna's words of dissension.

  "The humans have attacked us!"

  Rachna's voice thundered over the throng.

  "First, they awaken the earth against us! Now, they ready their technology for another strike. The great machine, which has lain dormant for as long as anyone remembers, has come to life. It is only a matter of time before they use it against us. We must take the fight to the humans before they attack us again!"

  Those skeva closest to Rachna answered the warrior's words with enthusiastic shouts, appealing to the others for a call to arms. All rats should return home to sharpen their blades, polish their armor, and form up ranks in the streets. When all were assembled, they'd march. Some took up the cries, but not all. Still, it was more this time than a few weeks ago, during the last such assembly. But much had changed since then. Enough for Rachna, with his radical doctrine, to begin finding an audience beyond his cadre of loyal followers. At last, he had the opportunity to foment the beginnings of a movement. Acharat was determined it gain no further traction.

  Acharat started into the square. Some noticed his approach, and so made way for him. Soon, the whisper of his name spread over the crowd, until everyone was aware of his presence. The chamber grew silent but for the clack of the chieftain's cane as he walked toward Rachna, whom Acharat saw now amidst a group of his shodeth warriors. Acharat made no effort to hurry. As both chieftain and shaman, it was he who dictated the timing of things. Many whom he walked past either bowed in deference or, if they served in Xirklx's army, saluted. Even those who'd made a call for arms bowed or at least nodded. Only Rachna and his elite soldiers showed no respect at all, staring with contempt upon his lame gait and slightly hunched back as he hobbled right up to the shodeth leader.

  Rachna, tall by rat standards at six feet, towered over Acharat. Even if the chieftain was able to straighten to his height of old, he'd still fall a foot short of the other. Like his fellow shodeth, who always dressed to blend with the shadows, Rachna wore dark, tight-fitting pants and a black leather vest which left his hairy, muscular arms exposed. The long hilt of his sword rose from over one shoulder. His large, black eyes said little, but his ears, perked back, spoke of the agitation he felt at his chief's arrival.

  Acharat peered up to meet Rachna's gaze. This close, he smelled the taint of human flesh on his breath. No matter how many times he and his cohorts cleaned themselves, the pungent, disgusting odor was always there. Rachna's ears came forward, but he said nothing.

  "My friends," Acharat said as he turned to address his people. He didn't shout as Rachna had, but still his voice carried. "We should attack the humans."

  The unexpected statement sent a murmur through the gathering. Rats looked from one to the other, asking with glances whether they'd heard right. Even Rachna, whom Acharat knew was ready to pounce on any perceived show of cowardice, was confused into inaction.

  "Raise arms, my people. March on Brighton and take your revenge. The humans have attacked us. They have woken the earth against us. We know not who or how or even why, for the very same rumblings which caused such devastation to our homes did the same to theirs. No matter. A blow has been struck. It falls to us to answer in kind."

  Those closest, who'd already voiced their agreement with such a plan once, started to do so again. This time, though, no one else took up their cries or issued even a hint of assent, for it was too strange that the voice of tolerance amongst them for so long preached violence and retribution. They stood in silence, dark skeva eyes opened wide, and waited.

  "Let us slay as many humans as we can," Acharat said. He walked through the crowd, tapping his cane as he went. "Let us show them that the skeva of Xirklx are not mice. We will deal them such a blow they will spend many moons recovering from it." He stopped, letting those words sink in. "But then what? Weeks or months or even years from now, the humans will recover. They will rebuild. They will replenish their numbers with new litters. Do you think they will forget what we have done to them? Do you think they cannot find us?"

  "Let them come!"

  Rachna's deep voice echoed from the chamber's ceiling and walls. It inspired confidence in his shodeth, who stood straighter or crossed arms in defiance against any who'd invade their homes or dare suggest they were incapable of defending it.

  "Let them come," Rachna said, "and my warriors will skewer the flesh from their bones."

  "Yes," Acharat said. "I've no doubt they'd do just that. But what about the rest of us? If the humans come, they will come with an army. Your warriors, for all of their skill, are too few in number." Acharat held a hand to his chest. "Many of us are old." He gestured at a mother rat, with her brood swaddled and held close. "Or have young." He swept his arm across the crowd at large. "Or are simply not skilled in the ways of the warrior. We cannot all hope to fight the host they will send. And then where will we be? It will be their turn at vengeance. Their turn to slay. I wonder," Acharat said,
taking the time to look over those faces nearest, "if we will have the fortitude, or the survivors, to rebuild our city? If not, then it is the end of everything we know."

  "Then what are we to do?" someone shouted.

  "We do what we have always done. We survive."

  "Bah!" Rachna said. "You mean cower in the dark, satisfying ourselves with the scraps from the humans' plates."

  "When, Rachna," Acharat said, lifting a brow to the crowd and perking his ears, "have you ever satisfied yourself with anything less than the humans themselves?"

  A chuckle rolled across the room.

  Rachna bristled to hear such laughter, but he mustered no response.

  "We do not cower in the dark, my friends," Acharat said. "We dwell here because it is our home. How many generations have passed their time here within Xirklx's safety?"

  Murmured numbers echoed from the walls. They were all in agreement it was a very long time.

  "We must be careful not to jeopardize that. Not so careful we do not respond when a response is needed, but careful we do not act rashly in the face of uncertainty. At first glance it may seem the humans have attacked us. But as our shodeth often say, appearances can be deceiving. I have no proof, but I find it hard to believe the surface dwellers launched an attack on us which also damaged their own city. Also, where are they? Why are their soldiers not here amongst us now, invading Xirklx?"

  Many skeva shifted uneasily or looked over shoulders, as if expecting to see human warriors running into the square at mere mention of the possibility.

  Rachna found his voice again. "They are not here because they fear the dark. It is my warriors and I who have made this so."

  "Yes," Acharat said, "and we thank the shodeth for their service. Believe me when I say, Rachna, it is you and your warriors we will look to if the need to strike back at the humans arises. But now is not that time. A blow has been struck, but we know not by whom or why." Acharat paused to look over the faces of his people. As one, their dark eyes spoke of the guidance they sought from him. They respected Rachna. Even feared him. But his way was not theirs. Not yet, at least. Acharat, ever the voice of patience and reason, still commanded their loyalty. "I intend to find the answers to both of these questions, my friends, by venturing to the surface myself. I have divined the presence of a newcomer to the city above. He is a sorcerer, but of an indescribable sort. The spirits do not always show me everything, and so it is now. But I will go forth and find this person, for his fate is somehow wrapped up in our own."