It wasn’t enough that the Faceless man had brought down the Iron Glory. Now he was targeting her parents. If she brought back help, if she brought the olarans to her people, he’d kill them.
And he would do it—of that, Stella had no doubt. The thought made her light-headed with terror.
But why? What did the Faceless man hope to gain now? He’d already crashed the ship. Why didn’t he just escape and disappear among his own people?
Because the crew is still alive, Stella realized with a shudder. Her people could still make contact with the olarans. In the Faceless man’s mind, there was no victory unless he kept that from happening. If Stella brought back help, his plan would be thwarted, but her parents were in danger.
And if she came back alone, Cyrus would die.
Stella slid down the wall of the building until she was sitting on the ground. Her body had gone cold all over, yet she was sweating, fighting the tight ball of panic and fear expanding in her chest.
The Faceless man was offering her a choice. Except he wasn’t, because it was two impossible things, a situation she could never live with, no matter what she did. She’d survived the storm and the airship crash, but this was a choice that would break her in a way nothing else ever could.
Her parents or her best friend.
Stella drew her knees up to her chest and rocked back and forth as she fought to center her thoughts, to come up with any plan that would save all the people she loved most.
She tried to pull together everything she knew about the Faceless man. It all came back to what he was after. If she obeyed him and came back alone, he claimed he would spare her parents, but he must also realize that, eventually, the crew would seek out the olarans anyway. The only way he could stop them was to kill everyone else on board the Iron Glory.
And if that was his plan, would he truly let her parents live?
There was no way she could trust his word. Stella lifted her head and, using the wall for support, pushed herself unsteadily to her feet. She had to stop the Faceless man once and for all. No matter the risk, it’s what her parents would want her to do. They wouldn’t want her to break her promise to Cyrus.
She needed help if she was going to have a chance to save everyone.
Mom, Dad, please hold on, Stella thought. Cyrus, I’m coming.
Gathering her courage and slipping the beetle into her pocket, Stella checked Cyrus’s map one last time to confirm where she was and then started off. She walked quickly down wide, twisting avenues, dodging the miniature trains and keeping to the shadows of the looming buildings.
Soon she found herself in a residential neighborhood, quieter streets lined with trees that bore yellow fruit the size of grapes. Stella passed a public park and in between the houses, she caught a glimpse of a shining ribbon of water.
That must be the Baluway River, she thought. Cyrus had said the Tinker lived not far from there. She was on the right track. All the houses on the street were numbered, and the Tinker lived in 1721.
The farther she walked, searching for the number, the larger the houses got, and the farther back from the street, until they became estates with sprawling, sculpted lawns and formal gardens. The noisy vehicle traffic faded away. Instead, people strolled along the sidewalk, dressed in beautiful, tailored clothing. Expensive clothing. Stella suddenly felt terribly out of place in her plain trousers and dirty, wrinkled shirt.
Just when she was starting to think she was in the wrong neighborhood, she found it, 1721 in big bronze numbers on a white stone column. There was another column to her right, both of them flanking a tall wrought-iron gate, the bars filed to sharp points seven feet up at their tips.
Stella swallowed. Obviously, the Tinker wasn’t thrilled at the idea of uninvited guests.
She walked up to the gate to get a better look at the property. The Tinker’s estate lacked the grand gardens and lush flowers of the other houses she’d passed, but it more than made up for it with the variety of trees. Willow and oak, birch, and more of the yellow fruit trees dotted the wide lawn. Beyond them was a large stone house, easily three stories tall. Besides its size, there was nothing remarkable about the house itself, but rising up beside it was the strangest tower Stella had ever seen.
It was all made of metal except at the very top, which was composed of sheets of glass. The structure reminded Stella of a lighthouse, but there was no ocean nearby, not according to Cyrus’s map, anyway.
Well, standing out here staring at the house wasn’t getting her anywhere. Stella grabbed hold of the gate and pulled on the bars, but it was locked tight. “Antya?” she called out in the olaran language, hoping to attract someone’s attention, even a groundskeeper or a servant. Strangely, there were no guards around, at least not that she could see. She’d expected a house with such an intimidating and unwelcoming atmosphere to have security patrolling the property.
“Antya?” she tried again, but there was no answer.
Frustration swelled in her. She hadn’t come all this way just to be thwarted by a fence. Stella walked along the barrier, determined to circle the place until she either found another entrance or located someone who would listen to her.
She’d made it around the side of the house closest to the tower when she saw her first chance. Two of the metal spikes on the fence had rusted off, creating a tiny gap just large enough for someone like her to climb over.
Heart in her throat, Stella glanced toward the street to make sure no one was looking her way. Then she quickly pulled the invisibility suit out of her pack, crouched down behind some bushes, and slipped it on. She brought the veil down over her face and waited a second for the suit to cloak her.
Then she grabbed hold of the iron bars and began to climb. Her injured wrist throbbed in protest, but Stella bit her lip and tried to ignore the pain. The metal was slick against her gloves, and twice she slipped to the ground and had to start all over again. Finally, she grabbed hold of the horizontal bar running across the top of the fence near the spikes. Gritting her teeth, she pulled herself up and partway through the gap.
It was narrower than she’d thought. The back of her suit snagged on a spike, trapping her. Twisting, Stella reached over her shoulder to try to pry it loose, but she couldn’t get hold of it. She was stuck with her torso on one side of the fence and her legs swinging free on the other.
Graceful, Stella. Very graceful. At least no one could see her.
She braced herself on the horizontal bar, shimmying and twisting to try to free herself. The pain in her wrist spiked, making it harder to concentrate. Sweat rolled down her neck inside the suit.
A soft tearing sound reached her ears.
To her horror, the air in front of Stella shimmered, and the outline of her hands and arms became visible, as if she’d been running down a corridor and the suit could no longer match the background.
She’d pulled herself free of the spike, but the suit had been compromised. She wasn’t fully visible, but anyone walking by on the street or looking out from the house would see the distortion around the fence. They’d know something wasn’t right.
Frantic, Stella pushed herself up on the bar and swung one leg over the fence, then the other. She dropped to the ground and stumbled, coming to rest on her hands and knees. Slowly, she stood up and looked down at herself.
The suit was still partially functioning. If she didn’t move, she blended into the background. But as soon as she walked forward a few steps, no matter how carefully she moved, there was a ripple in the air, and the outline of her body became visible.
She didn’t have time to stop to try to repair the suit. All she had to do was get to the house before someone stopped her. At least now she didn’t have to worry about moving slowly.
Casting one last glance around her, Stella broke into a run, ducking behind trees when she could, and headed straight for the front door.
Passing through a grove of birch trees, Stella entered a small sculpture garden. Rows of statues perched atop
tall stone plinths flanked a gravel pathway that led up to the front door. But instead of being made of stone, the statues were constructed of the same glimmering metal as some of the buildings she’d seen when she’d first arrived in Kovall.
An aletheum garden, Stella thought.
There were six of the statues, all of them giant wolves in various poses. Some curled up as if sleeping, others tense and ready to pounce, their sculpted chests gleaming in the sunlight. Those poses were beautiful yet frightening at the same time, which seemed out of place in the otherwise peaceful surroundings.
Stella passed the sculptures and found herself at the base of a set of stone steps leading to the front door. She reached up and took off the hood of her invisibility suit to deactivate it. She went over in her head—for possibly the hundredth time—what she might say to the Tinker.
Everything sounded terrible.
Hello, my name is Stella Glass, and I come from across the mountains. No, really, I do. Stop looking at me like that.
Hello, my name is Stella Glass, and I’m human. Yes, I said “hu-man.” Pleased to meet you.
Maybe she should keep things as simple as possible.
Hello, my name is Stella Glass, and I desperately need your help.
From behind her came a sharp metallic creaking sound, and then a low growl rumbled across the garden like thunder.
The hairs on the back of Stella’s neck shot up, and she whirled, choking on a scream.
One of the giant metal wolves was no longer seated on its stone plinth. It was standing behind her, staring down at her with glowing crimson eyes.
Instinctively, Stella backed away from the huge wolf, but she forgot about the steps behind her. Her foot caught on the stone and she fell, landing on her tailbone. Pain shot up her back, but Stella barely noticed. Terror had a firm grip on her.
One by one, the other five statues came to life. Metal joints creaked as the wolves rose up, stretched, and turned their heads toward Stella. Crimson fire ignited in their eyes, and with a graceful leap, they were on the ground and slowly stalking toward her. The closest wolf opened its mouth to reveal teeth that were actual razors.
Stella forced herself to breathe, trying to get her brain back to functioning while every muscle in her body seized with the need to escape. Were these wolves like the olarans? Half animal and half machine? But that couldn’t be right—they didn’t have a wolf’s thick pelt; their skins were clearly metal. What about their brains or their hearts? Could they be reasoned with like Cyrus?
Or were they simply hungry?
The last thought broke her. Stella launched herself from the steps and took off running around the side of the house as fast as she could.
Hollow metallic howls filled the air, paws pounding the ground as the wolves gave chase. Stella imagined she felt the vibrations beneath her feet.
She didn’t have the first clue where she was going. Even if she made it back to the fence, with her injured wrist, she’d never be able to climb over before the wolves got to her. The same went for climbing a tree. So she stayed as close to the house as possible, dodging around willow branches and leaping over bushes as she ran. Her best hope was either to find a door into the house or find someone—anyone—patrolling the grounds who might call off the wolves.
“Help!” she screamed. “Somebody, help me!”
As she rounded the corner of the house, the metal and glass tower loomed ahead of her. At its base was an old wooden door. Stella put on a last burst of speed, trying to reach the door before the wolves overtook her.
She hit the door at a full run, her shoulder banging into the wood. Ignoring the fresh burst of agony, Stella grabbed the knob and twisted it.
Locked.
A sound that was half scream and half sob burst from Stella’s throat. She turned, ready to run again, but the wolves had cut off any hope of escape. They surrounded the base of the tower, their great metal bodies throwing long shadows across the beautifully sculpted lawn.
They had cornered their prey, but Stella realized she had a weapon of her own. She wasn’t about to go down without a fight. She wrenched open her sack of supplies and pulled out the Lazuril rod. Activating the weapon and holding it in her good hand, she began waving it from side to side.
“Go ahead!” she yelled, defiant as one of the wolves crept toward her, its metallic belly brushing against the ground and emitting a spark. “If you want to eat me, I’m going to make sure you get the shock of your life!”
“Well, they don’t actually eat people, my dear,” said a voice from behind her.
Stella jerked in surprise and nearly dropped the Lazuril rod. The door to the tower was now open, and a man stood at the threshold, regarding her with some amusement.
“Good thing too, since they have no digestive processes to speak of,” the man went on, gesturing to the air as he spoke. “It would just be a lot of teeth gnashing and crunching and…well, general messiness.”
“Messiness?” Stella squeaked. Her gaze went from the man to the pack of wolves and back again. He had thick, curly dark hair with gray wisps starting at the temples, and he wore a brown lab coat and apron bulging with tools. Could he be the Tinker? Stella wondered while maintaining a firm grasp on the Lazuril rod. She was no longer certain where to point it: at the wolves or the man who kept them. “Listen, can you please call them off? I’m not a trespasser. I swear!”
“You’re not?” the man said curiously. He adjusted a pair of wire-framed glasses. The lenses were covered in fingerprint smudges. “That’s good to know. The way you were climbing over that fence looked a little suspicious at first, I must admit, but then again, I’m not one to discourage such an eager guest.”
Stella’s mouth dropped open, and she lowered the Lazuril rod a fraction. “You saw me? But I was barely visible!”
The man flashed a crooked smile that made him look younger than he’d first appeared. If this was the Tinker, he wasn’t at all what Stella was expecting. She’d pictured an old, serious scientist. “Well, I don’t want to brag,” he said in a tone that made it clear that was exactly what he wanted, “but when you’ve worked on chameleon net technology in trial phases for as long as I have, you learn to watch for the signs.” He hesitated. “I mean, literally, watch for signs of the invisibility effect wavering—it’s a critical component of the testing phase.”
Stella’s head was spinning. A tiny part of her thought she might even be dreaming. Or maybe she’d fallen and hit her head trying to get over the fence and her stressed mind had conjured up half a dozen giant metal wolves plus a babbling scientist.
Or maybe these were just the sort of common occurrences she would have to get used to in the uncharted lands.
At the appearance of the man in doorway, the mechanical wolves had indeed backed down and were now sitting placidly in the grass. Stella allowed herself to relax just a bit. “Are…are you the Tinker?” she asked. She tried to remember the word in Cyrus’s language.
And then she froze.
She was speaking in her own language, Trader’s Speech from her side of Solace. She’d been speaking it when she cried out for help earlier.
But the man in the doorway was also using Trader’s Speech. He’d been speaking it right along with her this whole time. She just hadn’t realized it until now because she’d been so terrified of the wolves.
He offered her that crooked smile again, eyes gleaming behind his glasses. “I am indeed the Tinker, and you, if I’m not mistaken, are a flesh and blood human. No machinery required.” He held the tower door open wider. “Come inside, my dear. We have a great deal to discuss.”
Her mouth hanging open, Stella looked from the man to the yawning doorway before her feet began to work, and she cautiously stepped inside.
The inside of the tower was a disaster. Stella knew her parents were occasionally messy in the lab, but their space was immaculate compared to the Tinker’s.
A rusty metal staircase led to upper floors, but on the ground level,
there were papers, lab equipment, and a multitude of oddities crammed onto every available surface, along with dozens of plates of half-eaten, moldy food. The room couldn’t have been dusted in at least a decade. Engines and their components littered the floor, causing Stella to tiptoe gingerly across the room in an effort to avoid harming them or herself. But once inside, the Tinker buzzed around the room as if nothing were amiss, checking dials and switches on machines that Stella had no name for. He shoved a helmet covered in wires off a stool and onto the floor before rubbing his sleeve over the stool in a futile attempt to clean it. After wiping his brow, he presented the seat to Stella for her to sit down, in what she assumed to be a rather gracious manner.
“Tell me everything,” he said, flitting off to another table lined with a row of spotted ferns in tin can pots. Four of the five were shriveled and brown, but the Tinker didn’t seem to notice. He grabbed a book with a cracked leather cover and selected a pencil from the hand of a fully articulated hamster skeleton. “Start with your name. I want to know everything about where you came from and how you got here. Spare me no details!”
“I’m afraid it’s a long story, and we really don’t have time for it,” Stella said, reaching into her bag to retrieve Cyrus’s note for the Tinker. “I came here because I need your help to—”
“All in good time!” the Tinker interrupted. “Your name, please.”
“My name…my name is Stella,” she stammered, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. She sat down on the stool and placed the Lazuril rod awkwardly across her lap. She’d been prepared for the Tinker to scoff at her story, not take notes on it. “And you’re right, I’m human, but—”
“Aha! I knew it!” The Tinker swept a stack of papers off another stool, creating a chain reaction that knocked over several glass jars, one of which popped open, releasing a cloud of moths. Stella was pretty sure they were made of metal, wings clinking and glittering in the dim light as they flew haphazardly toward the top of the tower. The Tinker ignored these too.
The Quest to the Uncharted Lands Page 19