Steelhands

by Danielle Bennett

  He was leaving, I realized, so that he would not commit some kind of criminal offense in my apartment. Of all the types of people in the world, flippant ones like Troius were Adamo’s least favorite, and I knew how he felt wasting his time on people he thought were idiots.

  Troius was a lucky man—though from the expression on his face, he had no idea about the terrible fate he’d just dodged.

  I locked Adamo out, with appropriate thanks, then turned to face my remaining guest.

  “Wow,” Troius said, letting out a low whistle. “Would you believe it? The Adamo. Chief Sergeant of the Dragon Corps, the big statue himself. He’s about the same size as his memorial, unlike you. Pretty impressive. Does he stop by often?”

  “Because of the fever,” I explained, moving to stand by him, so I could try some of the bread for myself. Troius was right; it was so stale I nearly chipped a tooth.

  “Looking after you, just like a mother,” Troius said. “Isn’t that thoughtful? He doesn’t seem the type. Did he say Luvander was coming, too?”

  “Another of my fellow airmen,” I said.

  “Of course,” Troius replied. “Naturally. You all get together regularly, then? I suppose they were worried about you, and those voices you were hearing. I would be, anyway, if I were them.”

  For a moment, I was too taken aback to say anything. In that instant, Troius’s face changed from one of curiosity to sheepishness, and he slapped himself on the forehead. “I really am sorry,” he said. “I might as well skip work myself, today, at the rate I’m going. Some days you always step in it, don’t you? And here I am, still chewing your ear off, when you’re trying to recuperate. I just thought you might like a little distraction—but I’ve probably been too distracting, chasing your friend off and eating your cheese. If it can still be called that,” he added, with a quiet laugh. “Sorry about that, Balfour. Really.”

  “It’s all right,” I told him. “Adamo’s like that with practically everyone. And the bread is stale. I can’t even imagine what the cheese tastes like.”

  “I’ll get out of your hair, leave you to recover on your own,” Troius said, clapping me on the shoulder. “Don’t think twice about me—suffering all alone with Auria and Chanteur, the lone brave soldier left on a bleak frontier—and no, don’t follow me; I’ll see myself out.” He paused by the door, one hand on the knob. “It’s just good to know you’re feeling better,” he said earnestly. “I always worry about you.”

  “That’s really not necessary,” I murmured, staring at the floor. “I haven’t even written home about it.”

  “No need to worry Mother, eh?” Troius asked, his cheeky grin returning, before he disappeared out the door.

  At least, I told myself when he was gone, I wasn’t cleaning up the stain he left behind on the floor when Adamo was through with him. And it would make a fabulous story for Luvander when he arrived. Finally, I had something with which to repay him after all he’d done for me.

  TEN

  LAURE

  I’d managed to put the appointment off for two weeks, but I woke that morning with a feeling of dread after not sleeping too well—my dreams were full of anxious noise and not much else—knowing for certain they weren’t going to let themselves be brushed off any longer. The nervous fog followed me out of bed while I got dressed and trudged downstairs, shrugging off Toverre the way I’d been doing lately—making his face scrunch up in hurt though he didn’t say anything about it.

  My suspicions were confirmed when I found the summons in my mailbox, printed in capital letters. It told me just what I’d been expecting—and I didn’t have to be some prophetic Margrave with well water in my veins to have predicted it coming.

  If I missed another appointment, then I was in deep dung.

  Those weren’t the exact words, of course, but I knew when someone was fuming mad and trying to be nice about it, holding off on the curses because they thought honey’d catch more flies than vinegar. Professional or not, these physicians sure were persistent, and there wasn’t much point in saying no to them any longer. My appointment was tomorrow afternoon and I’d better turn up. Or else.

  But there was no way on Regina’s green earth that I was telling Toverre.

  It was strange not to share everything with him—we always did, and this problem marked the first I hadn’t run to him with at the very start. First of all, he’d be no good with it. He’d want to write Da, or go to the Provost, or go with me to the appointment. The first would make Da upset; the second would have all of Thremedon thinking Toverre was crazy; and the third was just plain pointless. What did Toverre plan on doing to protect me—talk a few ears off until Germaine and her assistant begged for mercy?

  As funny as the image was, the whole thing was too serious to joke around about. And I wasn’t letting Toverre get himself involved. I didn’t want him getting into trouble just because I wasn’t able to handle it.

  But I couldn’t go back, I told myself, shoving the note card in my pocket with a feeling of dread. No matter which way I looked at it, I felt like the fever’d been Germaine’s doing in the first place.

  And I never wanted to hear that voice whispering to me again.

  “I see you have a letter of some kind,” Toverre said, doing his best not to snoop.

  “Nothing worth mentioning,” I replied. The look on his face told me he hadn’t already read it over my shoulder, and I was glad for it, if a little guilty, too.

  It wasn’t something I could talk to Toverre about because I could tell how much it upset him. It was like a big blotch of mud that he couldn’t wipe away, and if there was nothing he could do to help, then why get him all worked up in the first place? Maybe it wasn’t altogether fair of me to have decided that for him, but it was a chance I was going to have to take. It was my job to take care of him, and that meant not burdening him with stuff that was bound to make him crazier than he already was.

  I felt bad about it because I could tell I was hurting his feelings not letting him in on everything like I always did, but we’d get past that soon enough. He’d been the one who always talked about how things were going to change once we got to the city, and now he’d got what he wanted. Just came in a different package than he was expecting.

  The way things’d shaken down for me so far in the city, there was only one person I could really talk to about any of this horseshit. I also knew he wasn’t going to like it, so I was gonna have to be sneaky and butter him up some first, just so he wouldn’t think I was going to make a habit of running to him every time I got a hangnail.

  Part of me was pretty disappointed, since I was pretty sure ex–Chief Sergeant Professor Owen Adamo almost thought well of me. And now I was gonna go and make him think I was one wheel short of a carriage—or one wing shy of a dragon, you might say.

  No getting around that, though. Someone with problems too big for her to tackle on her own couldn’t afford to be too proud to ask for help. As much as I wanted to prove to everyone that I could handle myself just fine in Thremedon without a man to lend a hand, all I wanted was someone to talk to. Someone like a friend, only smarter and more important than the friends I already had.

  Maybe if the ’Versity’d had any female professors teaching us first-years, I might’ve gone to one of them instead. But if they were lurking around in the woodwork, I’d never had ’em for any of my classes, and I didn’t want to speak to some stranger who didn’t know I had a good head on my shoulders before I told ’em it was coming loose.

  My mind made up, I made my excuses to Toverre and bundled my scarf around my neck, checking to make sure I had a little money in my pockets before I stepped out into the cold. I hadn’t memorized the ex–Chief Sergeant Professor’s schedule or anything like that—I wasn’t Toverre, and I wasn’t going to stalk him after hours through the streets of Thremedon—but the bell for class was about to ring, and I knew that he usually only taught half a day’s worth of lectures before retreating to his offices like a bear in hibernation. I
guess once he’d figured out where they were, he’d figured out he liked spending time there.

  Also, if I stopped to think too much about my plan, then I’d probably chicken out, but as long as I kept my feet moving and my courage screwed up, then I could see it done.

  Even if Adamo didn’t have any solutions for me, I’d feel better once I got everything off my chest. And maybe all I needed was for someone to point out how batshit I was acting for me to be able to snap right out of it and start living my life the way I always intended—getting good sleep and not twitching at every shadow.

  I stopped by the hot-drinks kiosk on my way from the mail room heading to Cathery, getting a hot chocolate for me and a black coffee for Adamo. As funny a face as he’d made after tasting the sweet stuff, and as much as I might’ve wanted to see it again, if I was planning to get him in a good mood, I figured I’d better try something that had a real chance of working.

  The man behind the counter was the same one who’d been there the other night, looking just as cold as ever. When he tried to give me too much change, I dumped the difference into a little jar for tips.

  My experience with the dorm leader was still stinging me, and I wasn’t about to start taking money just because someone liked the way I looked.

  There was a fierce wind kicking up in the courtyard as I made my way across the stone path, and I tucked my head down to protect my face. I nearly rammed into a group of third-year girls, all of them with buttons on their coats that matched the ones on their boots, and hats jammed onto their neatly curled hair.

  “ ’Scuse me,” I said, but they were too busy talking to hear my apology, or to make one of their own. I wasn’t snoopy like Toverre or anything, but I couldn’t help overhearing their conversation.

  “He’s so violent,” one of them was saying, tugging at her wool cap. “I don’t like the way he shouts at all. I think you’re mad.”

  “You just don’t have any appreciation for a real man, Flora,” said one of the others. “I think I’ll stop by his office later, ask him what sort of strategy he’d recommend for ensnaring one of the famous airmen.”

  “You wouldn’t really,” said Flora, covering her mouth with a gloved hand.

  “I would, too,” the other girl said. “Maybe I’ll try it tomorrow, just you watch.”

  “ ’Scuse me,” I repeated, louder this time. Without waiting for an answer—in my experience, idle gossips never had any manners—I shoved past the three of them so that I could get in the door.

  I never understood why groups of people felt the need to gather right in the narrowest part of the street or mill around in doorways, but I was too huffy even to think about that. The nerve of some people really got under my skin—especially those that were older than me, and meant to know better. If I hadn’t wanted my hot chocolate so badly, I might’ve accidentally spilled some of it on one of them—ruining their fancy boots, too—but it wasn’t any of my business what other people thought of Adamo, and they’d surely learn for themselves that he didn’t have any interest in their silly games.

  At least, that was my opinion of him—which was apparently higher than any of theirs.

  This time, I didn’t need to walk into anyone’s offices or interrupt any private meetings, seeing as how I already knew which one was Adamo’s. A part of me wanted to barge in on purpose and see whether that student and professor were going at it again, but both my hands were full, and I didn’t want to spill a hot drink anywhere if I got too much of an eyeful.

  I hadn’t actually thought about the problem full hands were going to give me until I was standing there in front of Adamo’s door, with no way of opening it or even knocking. The paper cups were filled all the way to the top, and just big enough that I couldn’t fit both of them in one hand. I could’ve kicked the door to let him know I was coming, but it seemed disrespectful, and I didn’t think Adamo’d appreciate me leaving my mark that way.

  I shifted to one side, real slow, to see if I could bang my shoulder up against the door instead. I’d’ve had to move my whole body to do it, I realized, so I couldn’t quite get the leverage, but maybe I could manage it with just my elbow. At least I could be grateful that this corridor was mostly empty—the students were on the lower floors, rushing to their next classes or heading out to lunch and to freedom. I strained, then managed to thump my elbow against the door without spilling hot chocolate all over my glove. It might’ve been only a small victory, but it was a good one, as far as I was concerned.

  “What in bastion’s name are you doing to my door?” Adamo asked from just behind me.

  I turned too fast, nearly dropping both the cups and wishing I knew how to sneak up on a person that quietly.

  “What’s it look like? I was knocking,” I said, holding up his coffee. “Brought you this. On account of last time, just so you know I didn’t forget. But it’s making it real hard to get into your office.”

  “Lucky for us both I wasn’t in there, then,” Adamo said after a second of staring at me like I was a dog that’d suddenly brought its master a dead bird. “Thanks.”

  He took the coffee from me and unlocked the door, holding it open so I could get by. The office was exactly the same as it’d been the last time I’d dropped in, except that someone’d seen fit to tape over the hole I’d made in his chair, so I couldn’t pick at the stuffing anymore.

  I took a sip of my cocoa. Since I’d waited this time, carrying it all the way through the cold streets, it didn’t even burn my tongue.

  “I take it you’re not here about exams this time, either?” Adamo asked, crossing around from behind me to get to his desk. The little paper cup I’d given him was already half-empty, which I figured was as good a sign as any. I hoped it was brewed the way he liked it.

  “Don’t I wish,” I said, sitting down in Old Creaky, my chair from before. “If my only problem was a bunch of exams I had to take, wouldn’t you think I had a pretty easy life?”

  “And that you were complaining for no reason,” Adamo said with a shrug. “You wouldn’t believe the sob stories some of ’em come in here with, all because I didn’t give ’em a check next to their grade. Even worse is when you stick a comment or two in there that’s not all praise. You’d think I slaughtered their childhood pets or something.”

  “Do they cry?” I asked, suddenly interested.

  “Like babies,” Adamo said, draining the rest of his coffee with a noise of appreciation. I was starting to think he was a dragon, the way he guzzled down hot stuff like he couldn’t feel it. They could’ve called him Ironmouth.

  “Toverre made one of our tutors cry once,” I confided, picking at the tape over the hole in the chair. “He corrected everything she said; she couldn’t finish a single sentence, much less teach us anything, and he kept at it until she finally lost it. Think she had a few fits and had to move back home.”

  “I can imagine that,” Adamo said, a faraway look in his eyes like he imagined he was on the verge of a breakdown any day and was ready to get in a carriage and roll away. “Toverre’s that friend of yours, isn’t he? The one with all the pens?”

  “My fiancé,” I corrected automatically, licking at the corner of my mouth to make sure there wasn’t chocolate there.

  “Huh,” Adamo said, sitting back in his chair. For a second he looked confused—I took the engagement for granted, but it tended to surprise other people—but the moment passed quickly enough. “Are you here about the, uh, engagement?”

  “What?” I asked. Now it was my turn to look confused. “Of course not. I’d like to kill him sometimes, of course, but he’s been all right lately.”

  Adamo stared at me for a moment longer, then shrugged something off. “Well, since you’re not here about exams, and you didn’t bring Toverre your fiancé to pick at my grammar and make me cry, you’re gonna have to enlighten me as to why you really came.”

  “Oh, that,” I said, not giving myself time to overthink anything. I’d come all the way here, hadn’t I, an
d I could feel the crisp edges of my latest summons digging into my side through my pocket. “It’s not … anything to do with school, actually.”

  “That’s a relief,” Adamo replied.

  “Wish it was,” I said. “See, whoever’s in charge has been scheduling these checkups for all the new students—I guess to make sure we’re all protected from whatever fever’s running through the dormitories and whatnot, or to make sure we aren’t bringing anything into the city with us that we picked up from the farm. Everyone’s had ’em, or at least, most of us have, but then … It started to seem like everyone who went came back with this mean kind of fever. Like somehow getting the checkup was making us sick.”

  “Physician wouldn’t be doing his job, if that was the case,” Adamo said.

  “Her job,” I corrected him. “And that’s exactly what I thought. I’ve got a healthy constitution—only been sick five days in my whole life—and after my second visit, all of a sudden, I’ve got this awful fever. Sweating, vomiting—no use coating it with sugar; I was doing a lot of things I wish I wasn’t—and having these weird dreams where I kept hearing things that weren’t actually there.”

  “Hearing things?” Adamo asked, suddenly looking sharp.

  “I’m not screwy,” I told him firmly, suddenly regretting all the sweet cocoa in my stomach since some amount of being nervous was finally settling in. “At least, I never was before I came to the city. And I know how it sounds—like I’m out of my mind—but maybe I’m half expecting you to tell me I’m being cracked and all I need is to pull myself out of it. The thing is, they want me coming again, for another one of those checkups, but I don’t want to go and find myself sick again. It’s just a feeling I have, but it doesn’t sit right with me. Goes against my instincts, and I don’t like doing that.”