At first, he’d been annoyed at the interruption. He was ready to test a proof of concept for the communications devices and was trying to figure out how to word a message to let Chanté know. Things had been a bit awkward between them recently. When the woman in charge of the delivery had knocked to announce herself, he’d thought at first it was Chanté, but turning to the doorway, he’d seen that it wasn’t. Once she explained what she was about, however, Quillan’s annoyance and disappointment had been replaced with excitement. Another of his machinist tools had arrived!
The horizontal borer was one of the last pieces of equipment the guild lacked for his needs. It wasn’t one of the larger borers. Even fully extended, the far end of the bed would be less than four feet from the boring bit. Still, that should be plenty for anything needed here. Of course, he’d still have to assemble it from the parts once they were all brought in from the delivery wagon, but that was part of the fun!
The last crate was fairly long. Two men brought it into the workshop. One used levitation to do the actual moving, so Quillan guessed that the other had walked in front of the crate along the hallways making sure the way was clear. After all, though the crate was floating, it still had a fairly large mass. The seven steel rods within weighed a little over fifty pounds each.
Once he signed for the delivery and the workers left, Quillan stood staring at the stacks of crates, fingers twitching. Where to start?
His eyes kept returning to the long crate sitting on its own.
Fine, then. The guide rods first.
Using a crowbar, he pried open the top of the crate, revealing the packing material inside. He removed enough material to uncover two bars. Each one consisted of five feet of shiny steel, capped at their ends with heavy mounting flanges.
He hefted up the first one. The smooth steel was cool to the touch.
Four of the rods, with cross-supports, would form two sides of the machine’s base. The remaining three would be a kind of platform upon which the machine bed rested and was slid upon.
After looking the two-inch diameter rod over, he set it down atop a nearby stack of crates and removed another one. The shiny precision parts were amazing. There was something about highly-engineered things that just made him smile.
He let out a quiet giggle.
“What on Lethera is all this?”
Quillan turned to the door. “Elizabeth? I thought you were still in Stronghold.” He carefully set the rod down next to the other one.
“I returned with Fillion yesterday. He and Master Gella are going to attempt to learn more about the robbery, but I was told in no uncertain terms that I could not go along.” She frowned. “As if I’ve never done anything covert before.”
“I see.” Quillan clasped his hands behind his back.
He glanced at the crates, at his worktable, and then at her. The sudden reappearance she’d made last week had been a bit of a shock. Before that, he’d not spoken more than three words to her since the night of their one and only date.
Elizabeth scowled. “Whoever pulled off the robbery went through the trouble of murdering one of their own in the middle of police headquarters. Brazen, to be sure, but also telling. He must have known too much or been involved too deeply. Elsewise, why risk eliminating him there? Unfortunately, things aren’t going well with finding out who that man worked for and what they were about, aside from the robbery. Maybe Fillion and Master Gella will have luck with their little clandestine task.”
Scowl gone, she looked at him. “At any rate, I came to, ah, see about your progress, hoping for some better news.”
The device. He sighed inwardly. While he was sure that he could eventually figure out the details of the other enchantments on the custom device, cryptography work, or at least deciphering, was beyond tedious. “To be honest, I’m having a little difficulty with that.”
“Oh?” She walked to the worktable and looked over the scattered papers.
“It seems the other enchantments have nothing whatsoever to do with the two circuits I already decoded. They hardly use any of the same focus types. As such, there aren’t many shared symbols to help in the translation.”
She frowned. “I see.”
He watched her flip through the papers. It was strange. He recalled how excited he was about the date, recalled the joy he felt. But for some reason, he didn’t feel that way around her now. Instead, he felt . . . nervous, wary, on-guard, even. Why? Had he changed that much? It didn’t look as if she had.
She was still as pretty as ever, though a couple of years older. And not just in age. Much of the charming innocence of youth was gone from her eyes. Her smile was mostly the same, though, as was her laughter. And it seemed as if she looked at him the same way that she used to. Thinking about that look made his heart beat a little faster, but it also worried him.
He walked to the other side of the worktable from her. “How has working for the paper in Stronghold been? Anything like the Cotter’s Grove Times?”
There was that laugh. “No. Well, in a way, yes, but mostly, no. I’m writing, that’s the same, but almost everything else is different.”
She sat on a stool. “It’s the pace, I guess.”
“The pace?” He drew his brows together.
She nodded. “It’s so much faster in Stronghold. The tempo of life and what they want in the stories. Now, to be sure, not everything can be fast-paced. But it does seem as if that kind of writing is better received by both the editors and the reading public.” She sighed. “Still, I often miss quiet evenings sitting on a porch swing, sipping tea.”
Quillan grunted. Now that he thought about it, his life had been pretty hectic since he left Cotter’s Grove. He’d feverishly studied and practiced Smith Craft, and when he transferred to the specialization, it was machine engineering that he devoted his studies to. When was the last time he relaxed, doing something that didn’t involve gears or tools?
The memory of the nights riding to Caer Baronel came back to him, lying around the campfire staring at the stars with Chanté and Nantli. He smiled.
“So.” She stood. “You haven’t been able to make progress on the deciphering, but what else has been occupying you? If I recall, you mentioned something about a communication device you were working on.”
“Yes.” He gestured to the proofs of concept. “I have a pair of crude prototypes that I was going to ask Chanté to help me test.”
“I could do that.” She smiled.
He laughed.
Was that annoyance that flickered across her features? It was gone so fast he couldn’t be sure.
“I’m sorry for laughing, but for the test, I need a dragonlinked to be wearing one set while in-flight.”
“Ah, that’s right. The devices are for their use.” She tilted her head slightly. “You and Chanté seem to get along fairly well. It seems you’ve managed to make several friends since leaving Cotter’s Grove.”
He frowned. “I did have difficulty with that before. People thought me a bit odd.”
“While you had many interests, you tended to focus on one at a time. And that focus was such that you excluded everything else, including people, conversations, activities . . . meals.” She chuckled.
He laughed. “That’s true.”
“Though, it did help you with some things.” She pulled the magnifying lens over, the metal arm creaking as she did so. Looking through it at one of the prototype pieces, she said, “How long did it take you to be able to ride a horse?”
He cleared his throat. His fear of heights had been the source of a lot of bullying. “Nearly two months. When I could finally ride a horse, it was one of the happiest days of my life. I could go places with everyone instead of coming up with another excuse no one believed.”
She stared through the lens a few moments, then looked up at him. “I remember the bruises you got while practicing.”
Her quiet words surprised him. She’d noticed him, had actually paid attention to him, way back then? He’d been ten, at the
time, when he would sneak off to practice. By himself.
He drew his brows together. “How do you know where the bruises came from?”
She blushed but didn’t look away from him. “Because I followed you a few times until I found out. I thought it might have been someone bullying you again and if it was—”
“You followed me?” He was impressed and embarrassed. He also felt a little like he’d been violated.
She grimaced. “It was terrible of me, I know.” Her expression cleared and her gaze lost focus. “On that day after school, I watched you carry the step-ladder out to the grassy field. I watched you get up to the second rung, watched you hesitate, and then watched as you struggled up onto the third one. When you tottered, fainted, and fell, I nearly ran to make sure you were okay. Then it came to me. That was where the bruises were coming from.”
Quillan stared at her. The field was behind his parent’s house. Worried about him being bullied again, Elizabeth had followed him from town all the way to their farm, somehow keeping out of sight the entire time.
A little of his old feelings came back.
Elizabeth looked down at her hands in her lap. “A minute or so later, you woke up. You dusted yourself off, got back on the ladder, and stepped up to that third rung again. You started panting, and almost immediately, you fainted and fell. You did that over and over until the sun got low.”
She looked up at him, as if staring at something wondrous. “The incredible determination you had to overcome your fear astonished me. I thought it was amazing. I still do.”
He didn’t know how to respond. Cheeks warming, he said, “Chanté mentioned something like that, too, when I told him about it.”
Her expression went blank.
“He’s, ah, been trying to get me used to being on a dragon.”
Her eyes widened. “That boy’s trying to get you to fly?”
Quillan chuckled. “I know. Me? Flying?” His smile faded and his gaze wandered to the gleaming steel rods on the crate. “I want to, though. It’s just that I’m more than a little scared of trying.”
“Scared of trying? Why?”
He sighed. “If I find that I can’t do it, then it’ll become a barrier between me and . . .” He frowned. Should he even be exploring that relationship? There were apparently some lingering feelings for Elizabeth.
“Between you and?”
A glance revealed a hint of worry in her eyes that tugged at something in him. Maybe he should find out how many of his old feelings for her remained. He cleared his throat. “A–And the other dragonlinked.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Hmm. Well, I think you should try.” The worry was gone, replaced with a fierce glint.
He blinked. “You do?”
“I can’t imagine anyone here would hold it against you if it turns out you can’t fly.”
He grunted. “That’s probably true.”
“And I’d question the character of anyone who did.” She smiled. “So, when do you think you and Chanté can practice being on a dragon next? I’d like to be there.”
“I–I’m not sure. We haven’t spoken in a few days.”
“Oh?”
“It’s strange. He used to drop by a lot, but ever since you and Master Gella came here to give me that device to look over, he’s not been around as much. Though, I haven’t visited him either, truth be told.”
She smiled. There was a trace of something in her eyes, something almost feral. “You said you needed his help to test your devices, right? Ask him to come do that. While you’re testing, you can talk about more dragon practice.”
Quillan stared at her. He got the distinct impression that she was up to something. He did want to test the devices, though.
He nodded. “Sure.”
+ + + + +
Someone knocked again.
“Yes,” Chanté called out, exasperated, “I hear you! I’m coming!”
He turned to Nantli, who lay in the passage to the den. Do you think smallclothes is enough? They seem impatient for me to answer.
Chin on her forepaws, she looked up at him. I think that was the minimum clothing Quillan mentioned before.
He grunted. It had been a few days since he’d seen Quillan. How was the machinist doing?
When he opened the door, a messenger smiled at him.
“Chanté?”
“Yes.”
“Message for you.”
He took the small, folded sheet. “Thank you.”
The messenger nodded a farewell and hurried off down the hallway.
Chanté closed the door.
Who is it from?
I’m not sure. There was sealing wax holding the message closed. It was silver and had a stamped impression of an anvil. He broke the seal and unfolded the sheet.
Chanté,
I’ve finally got a set of prototypes to test. Could you come by and help with that?
Quillan
Excitement pulsed in his chest. It’s from Quillan.
Nantli poked her head into the study. What does he say?
He’s ready to test his communication devices and wonders if I can help.
She chirped. There is plenty of time before lunch. You should help him.
He tossed the sheet on the desk and turned for the door.
Chanté.
He paused and looked at her. Hmm?
While that is the minimum for answering the door, it might be best if you wore more than smallclothes while out and about.
He looked down and grunted. Right.
Ten minutes later, in shoes, riding pants, and undershirt, Chanté jogged into the workshop. “I got your”—he spied Elizabeth and stopped—“message.”
Gaze upon him, her lips were curved in a smile, and though the smile was also reflected in her eyes, there was something else there. A challenge?
“Thanks for coming,” Quillan said.
Chanté turned to him and drew his brows together. There was something different about Quillan. He was smiling, but it wasn’t as big as normal. Chanté felt something of that strange distance between him and others that he experienced all those days ago when first coming to the Guildhall. What had happened?
“I offered to help,” Elizabeth said, “but he wants to test while one set is worn during flight.”
What is wrong?
Quillan seems subdued for some reason. That woman is here. Perhaps it is her.
Perhaps.
“This is the ear-piece.” Quillan picked up a small circular item on the worktable. “I’ve already mounted mine in a cap that I will wear during the test. You can tuck this under your riding cap, over your ear.” He held it out.
Chanté accepted the device. “It looks small enough to fit easily.”
“Right. And this is the mouth-piece.” Quillan grabbed another item and handed it to him. “This should be able to fit inside your riding mask.”
Chanté nodded. “It looks like it will.”
“Now, the final versions won’t just get tucked into gear. We’ll either have the pieces designed with snaps, clips, or something to attach them with, or perhaps pockets can be built into the gear to hold the pieces.”
“Perhaps pockets and snaps,” Chanté said, “to hold them even more securely.”
Quillan shrugged. “We can work out those details as we go.”
“What kind of distance do you want to test at?”
Quillan twisted his lips. “I think Caer Baronel is plenty far enough for now. We’ll do an initial test from your ledge. Once that’s confirmed, you can portal to the Caer and we can continue from there.”
Chanté smiled. Quillan seemed more normal, now. Good. Working on things with him like this was enjoyable. “Alright. I’ll get my gear, get Nantli, and then contact you with these.”
“Oh!” Quillan reached over. “This here.” He indicated a small button. “With the items within an inch of each other, press it to activate the pieces. You can tuck them in the gear after.”
It d
idn’t take long to get Nantli saddled and for him to put on the remainder of his riding gear. She walked with him out to the ledge.
Where will we fly for the test? Her eyes sparkled in the sunlight.
To Caer Baronel.
That is all?
Her disappointment made him chuckle. It’s just a first test to see if these work in practice.
Nantli opened her mouth and let out a breath—a dragon version of a sigh.
Chanté shook his head and got the communication set ready.
Even though it was fairly flat, the ear-piece still got pressed into his right ear by the riding cap. Chanté fiddled with it for a bit but could find no position that was completely comfortable. It might be best if the pocket for that piece actually protruded outside of the cap so that the ear-piece itself didn’t extend inside at all.
The mouth-piece didn’t cause any problems as far as size or comfort. The mask wasn’t close-fitting, so there was plenty of room for the piece, though it did move around freely in there. He worried about it falling into his mouth when he spoke. Once it was attached to the mask, no matter how that ended up happening, that issue would be dealt with.
Time to start. He’d test-fitted the mouth-piece without activating it, so he removed it now, held it against his ear near the other piece, then found the button with his fingertip and pressed it.
A small pulse of magic washed over him.
After tucking the mouth-piece back inside the mask, he snapped it shut.
He took a breath. “Can you hear me?”
“I can!”
It was a very strange thing to have Quillan’s voice right in his ear, knowing that the young man was actually far away in his workshop. Still, it was incredible.
Chanté chuckled. “Amazing!”
Laughter preceded Quillan’s next words. “Test one complete!”
“Do you notice the slight, strange quality to the voice?”
“I do. I’ll try modifying the encoding enchantment to increase the amount of voice information being sent. It sounds pretty good as it is, so it won’t need a lot of adjusting.”
“What now? Should I go to Caer Baronel?”
“Please.”
He opened a portal above. Come on, lovely.
Nantli rumbled and jumped into the air, wings beating.
Of Gods, Trees, and a Sapling: Dragonlinked Chronicles Volume 4 Page 52