by J. S. Morin
“Hold ‘em in place, make sure you can read with ‘em where you put ‘em,” Flarn instructed.
Rynn did as she was told without any misgivings. He was the only one whose motives she judged altruistic since she’d been taken from Eversall. She experimented with the set of the lenses until they seemed functional, if not comfortable. The glass was heavy and the bridge dug into the skin of her nose. She knew that it was a matter of becoming accustomed to them, so she let the thought of discomfort pass; after all, it was the least discomfort she’d suffered in days.
With the lenses held in place, Flarn marked the spot where the arm crossed over her ear and set to work with a rounded pair of pliers hooking the ends so the spectacles would stay put on her face. Rynn took the spectacles off and put them back on several times as Flarn adjusted the fit until it was just right on both sides.
The last thing he did was clip the dangling ends of the brightsteel wire. He put the trimmed bits into a pocket.
“How’s that?” Flarn asked.
“Have you got a mirror?”
Flarn chuckled. “Not what I meant. But if you must know, you look almost kuduk in those.” Rynn assumed he meant it as a compliment, but the idea sickened her.
“I see fine through them, I think. Is there a scratch on this one, or is it just a bit of dust?” Rynn asked, pointing to an imaginary spot on the right left lens.
“Let me see that.” Flarn looked close, leaning in such that if his beard had been typical kuduk length, it would have been tickling her chin. He pulled a clean white rag from tucked inside his belt and wiped the lens clean, holding it still with his free hand. “That better?” he asked, stepping back.
Rynn looked all around the field of vision the spectacles offered. “Yeah, that did the trick. Thanks.”
“Thank Delliah. Bosslady takes good care of us. Just think she might be going a bit rough on you since you seem to have a bit of brains in you. She’s used to that cup’o’mud, Naul. He couldn’t plan any mischief if he tried, and if he did he’d rather smoke himself stupid than do anything about it.”
“That, and I killed a few head-knockers,” Rynn said with a shrug.
Flarn shook his head. “Naw. I’m thinking your boiler’s got no water in it. Never heard a braggart what wasn’t making up every last bit but his name—sometimes even his name.”
Rynn gave Flarn a toothy grin.“Or maybe I know that, and I’m counting on it.”
Flarn walked away, shaking his head again. “Enjoy being able to see.”
Oh, I’ll be enjoying a lot more than that pretty soon.
Rynn glanced down at the piece of brightsteel wire she had palmed. It was a bit longer than one of her fingers, with a sharp end where it had been cut. Working when she was sure no one in the workshop was watching, she scraped the wire against the steel surface of the workbench until she had worn the burr on the cut end blunt, then bent it until it formed a “U” shape. She tucked the bent wire behind her teeth, beneath her tongue.
Korburn came and went a dozen times after that. Since he preferred not to talk, she was free to keep her silence as well. Dynamos came and went. After a time, more barrels came again. In between, Rynn was left to her own amusements, which included muttering to herself to get rid of the lisp from having the wire hidden in her mouth.
Dinner that night was sausage and potatoes, but everything tasted of brightsteel. Rynn told herself that it tasted like freedom.
By the time Ordy came to collect her for the evening, she had gotten used to speaking around the wire.
“I see Delliah got sick of seeing you squint. They kinda make you look civilized,” Ordy said to her.
“They’ll take some getting used to. I guess the more I wear them, the easier to put up with they’ll be.”
Ordy snickered. “That’s the spirit. Put up with it. Oh, and I heard it was a good day for production. Twenty guns packed up and ready to ship out once we have four more. You’ll have to take my word on it, since you’ll only ever see them in pieces, but they’re really beauties. They look just like huge stacks of twenty-tenar notes.”
“I know how many they made,” Rynn said. “I had to power all the runes, remember?”
“What, you can count, too?” Ordy joked. “Come on, your dresses got delivered earlier. You won’t have to put up with that silly blanket with arms you’ve been wearing anymore.”
“That’ll be nice.” I’m getting used to it. “Nice” would be shoes.
Ordy led her upstairs and into the washroom. “Go on, outta that silly rag and you can have a real dress instead, once you’re clean.”
“Clean?” Rynn balked. “I bathed last night and haven’t done a thing since. Sure, my feet could use a soak, but I hardly need a bath.”
Ordy closed his eyes and scratched his head. “Don’t know any nice way to put it, so I’m not gonna bother: teaspoon, you reek.” Rynn’s eyed widened in indignity. She was surprised she was still capable of it. “Ain’t your fault, but you humans all just sort of ... condensate. You know, like a cold mirror when you open the steam vent, ‘cept it’s a sewage line, not fresh water.”
“I’m not sweaty.”
“Call that stuff whatever you want, you reek of it. The smoke covers it up on Naul, though that stuff ain’t much better. Face it, you’re getting regular baths from here on out.”
Rynn lay in bed, tethered to the wall, but unshackled. Her new dress fit like a mold form. The snug fit of the sleeves kept the ludicrous neckline from slipping like the makeshift dress had. It was a coal black, with no lace or other adornments, but well stitched—all double, unlike some human-made garments she’d owned. She was pleasantly surprised they’d let her sleep in it, but she supposed the previous night had been arranged for Naul’s benefit.
Standing around all day had left Rynn more fatigued than she had expected after days of prolonged sitting. She had planned to get started earlier, but as soon as she sank into the mattress she knew she wouldn’t be able to resist the call of the goose down.
Maybe ... just for ... a ... few ...
Chapter 22
“Did I ever show you the flying machine I built? No? That’s because you can’t get them airborne without runes, and I can’t power them.” -Cadmus Errol
“I’m going to do it,” Madlin whispered. She was breathing hard, the excitement and fear building as her mind worked on a plan.
“Do what?” Jamile mumbled sleepily.
The cabin was dark. It wasn’t yet dawn and fire had burned itself out, leaving the scent of wood smoke and a hearth full of ash as the only evidence it had been lit.
Madlin squirmed beneath the blanket to face Jamile. “I’m going to unchain myself and get away. I stashed a bit of wire and they left my hands unbound.”
“You mean tomorrow night? So soon?” Jamile perked up. Madlin’s news had stirred her awake.
Madlin shook her head, though only the jostling of the mattress hinted at the gesture. “No, as soon as Rynn gets a bit of sleep. An hour, maybe two. Not sure when I’ll get a chance again. I’ll run on my own if I have to, but if you’ve found anyone in the area, now’s the time to get word.”
Jamile remained quiet a moment. “Madlin ...”
Madlin put an arm around Jamile and pulled her close. “It’s all right. I know you tried. I’ll figure something out; maybe find a way to stow on the next thunderail heading east, before anyone figures out what’s going—”
“No!” Jamile said. “You’re not on your own. You’re right: I couldn’t find anyone. I sent wires ... oh Eziel, did I send wires! I spent every gorm I’d saved, and the tapper at the wire-station must have thought I was up to something. I told him I was looking for my sister, but I don’t know that he believed me. My patron found out what I’d been doing. I lied. I lied. The words just came out in a jumble. I ... I don’t even know what I said, except it was everything but the truth. Of course he didn’t believe a word of it; I can’t blame him, I must have sounded mad. He—”
�
��What are you trying to say?”
“I’m in Fairmorn Sky as of last night,” said Jamile. “My patron beat me for lying. The next morning, I stuck him with half a vial of pentothal and ran off with all the coin I could scrounge from the house. I left a note saying I was heading for Cuminol Sky, and not to come looking for me, since I was freeborn.”
“But Fairmorn Sky is—”
“Two days by thunderail from Grengraw. I know.”
“No, how’d you get there?”
“Madlin, I ran away as soon as I heard you were taken west. I couldn’t wait any longer hoping someone would wire me back. I stowed on a lift-wing airship headed for the western part of the Eversall-Fairmorn rail; I had coin for bribes and supplies. The slaves aboard sheltered me.”
Madlin shook her head. “Two days might be too long. I can try to make my way west though, to meet up with you. The two of us ought to be able to—”
“I’m not two days away.”
“But you just said—”
“No, you said by thunderail, and you’re probably right. But I’m in Fairmorn. Remember who lives there?”
Madlin wracked her brain. Her father’s twinborn were scattered all over Korr. When she took too long to answer, Jamile pressed onward. “Ninna. Her twin’s owned by the family that owns half the airships in Fairmorn.”
Madlin took Jamile by the shoulder. “It’s too dangerous. They have knockers watching the platforms, and crews of twenty or thirty, not counting a few hundred passengers.”
“Get dressed,” Jamile said. “I’m starving.”
“That wasn’t a ‘no, I’m not actually going to steal an airship.’ What are you planning?”
Jamile climbed out of bed and shivered. She opened one of the chests among their luggage and sifted through garments. “Ninna thought of it. Well, her twin did—Tophi.”
“Thought of what?” Madlin caught a garment that Jamile threw at her in the dark. She shook it out until she could identify it as one of her dresses.
“You ever see a flashpop of one of those old army airships? The little ones with the repeater rifles mounted on them?”
“Of course,” Madlin said. “I asked my father to build me one when I was little. He said they took aether to run, since you couldn’t get a lift-wing off the ground with a steam engine.”
“Tophi’s owners have a few that they’ve converted for courier use.” Madlin could hear Jamile fussing with fabrics and assumed she was dressing.
“You can’t mean to steal one of those.”
“Why not?” Jamile asked.
“You’re crazy!”
“Your father’s crazy, and look what he’s done.”
“You don’t know how to operate one. I can’t imagine it’s like a trolley, with just a couple levers; they’re not on rails.”
“It’s a stick. Up, down, left right. Tophi made it sound straightforward.”
“They run on aether. How can you be sure it has enough to even reach Grengraw?”
“That is what we’re going to go find out!”
Madlin hurried to get dressed as Jamile made her way for the door.
Tanner was overseeing the loading of the wagons when they found him. The mountain shadowed them from the sunrise, leaving the whole site stuck in the remnants of night. Frost would remain until the noontime sun came. They walked under the glare of the snowy peaks and the soft blue sky above. Powlo was unloading heaps of equipment that would remain at the Errol Company mine. Watching the two work in close quarters was amusing. The sun-raised Powlo was bundled in furs despite years of working on Tinker’s Island; Tanner’s Acardian blood showed through in his choice of a thick coat, but neither gloves, nor hat, nor cloak to warm him further.
“Where is your little partner?” Jamile called as she approached.
“Off having himself a second helping of breakfast, and I’d lay off the ‘little’ stuff. He can get prickly about it.” Tanner tossed a pack into one of the wagons.
The main building of the mine complex was bustling with morning activity. Smoke poured from its chimney, and the smells of bacon and eggs wafted in the icy breeze. Madlin and Jamile followed the line of hungry mine workers and made their way inside.
The dining hall was packed. The press of bodies took no respect of a woman’s space and Madlin was shouldered and jostled just as anyone else. She thought briefly of asserting herself as mine owner and demanding to be let through, but she feared it would sour the conversation with Dan. She didn’t quite know what Jamile wanted from him, but she didn’t want to give the impression she was demanding anything of him, either.
“There he is,” Jamile said in her ear. It was the sort of thing to whisper, but in the din of comingling miners getting to know one another, it was just as well said at full voice. Madlin looked about, since Jamile hadn’t punctuated her comment with anything as useful as a pointed finger. She saw Dan, sitting by himself at a table that seated a dozen. Elsewhere in the room, tables were pressed shoulder to shoulder with stout men, and seats were being taken as quickly as they were given up.
“Why are you sitting alone?” Jamile asked when they emerged from the crush and entered Dan’s private sanctuary from the chaos.
“Cuz I don’t take half a spit from those goons before I show them their place,” Dan answered with a mouthful of bacon. “They used to think Tanner was my protection, but I flattened a few heads and that set them straight.”
Madlin and Jamile exchanged a sidelong glance. It was all Madlin needed to know that Jamile shared her doubts that he was jesting or exaggerating.
“Dan, you said something yesterday that’s been buzzing in my brain like flies on old meat,” Jamile said. Dan cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, but didn’t stop chewing. “Something about us looking like sorcerers.”
Dan swallowed. “Sorceress is the feminine term. But yeah. What of it?”
“How could you tell?”
“Cripes, you’re not even firehurlers. You’re dumb as ogres about magic, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what a firehurler is,” Jamile admitted. “And I can only assume you mean ogre in the literal sense, not as someone with an ill disposition?”
Dan closed his eyes and shook his head as he lifted his mug of hot cider. “I can see the aether.” His voice echoed from the insides of the mug.
“How?” Madlin asked. Jamile turned to her and Madlin wondered if she had been about to ask the same thing.
“You just stop looking with your eyes and look with your Source,” Dan said. He shoveled a spoonful of runny eggs into his mouth.
“What does that even mean?” Jamile asked.
“You’ve got to teach me about all this,” Madlin added.
“Us,” Jamile said, turning to Madlin.
Dan watched them and chewed the mush of egg in his mouth. The dining hall was far from quiet, but a localized pall had fallen over their table.
“Are you two always like this, or did your twins just get surrounded by goblins?”
“Surrounded by—? No, that’s not it,” Madlin said. “We just need—”
“We need to steal an airship, and I need to know if the runes hold enough aether to make the trip,” Jamile said.
Dan perked up. “So your world does have airships! That’s the first thing I’ve heard that doesn’t make your whole world sound like a giant piss pot. You know, I commanded an airship for a while. Youngest ever. It was a few winters ago—we call years by season in Veydrus—and I was younger then. I didn’t have much to do with flying it, I’ll admit, but I was the—”
“All very interesting,” Jamile said. “But we may be pressed for time.”
“You two awake over there right now or something?”
Jamile shook her head.
“No,” Madlin replied.
“Planning on napping in the wagons?”
Madlin and Jamile looked at one another and shrugged.
“You two are just so new at this.” Dan shook his head and turned his att
ention back to his plate.
“Is that it?” Madlin asked. “Aren’t you going to help us?”
Dan dropped his spoon on the plate with a clatter and pushed the dish away from him. “Help you what? You want to be sorceresses?” Madlin’s face brightened and Jamile nodded vigorously. “Tough. I’m no teacher and you don’t sound like you’ve got years to spend learning.”
“Please?” Jamile asked. “We’re short on time.”
Dan’s plate lifted from the table of its own accord and sped off to the kitchens. Madlin and Jamile gasped. Dan chuckled. “Fine. Once we get going, I’ll teach you enough to fix an airship.”
Packing was a simple affair, since they had barely been at the new Errol Company mine long enough to unpack. Jamile shoveled discarded clothing from the previous night into a travel chest while Madlin searched the small room for anything they might otherwise leave behind.
“Do you trust him?” Madlin asked.
“What’s there to trust? He’s a boy in the face, but a man in the nethers. You can hear the cracks in his voice here and there. He’s going to want to show off in front of a pretty girl like you, not play tricks. Does he seem that type to you?”
“No, I suppose not. But hey, why wouldn’t he want to show off for you? You’re pretty, and you certainly curve a bit more like a woman’s supposed to.”
“Oh, look at his eyes. You’re closer to his age—I probably look ancient to him. Plus, you look more like his people. Just the bits I could gather, I think those enemies they took us for look a lot more like me than they do you.”
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Madlin said. She found one of Jamile’s hair pins under the bed and picked it up.