by Bridget Ladd
“Good,” I responded tersely. “I do not think I can handle much more of your poking and prodding. If I didn’t know a thing about you, I’d say for certain you were a blacksmith judging by the sandpaper-like quality of your hands.” It wasn’t necessarily true. I was just in such an ireful mood; I wanted to send one last jab his way. A pretty pathetic one I realized with a small laugh.
He grinned slightly as he began wrapping a clean bandage around my arm. Again, he was methodical, gentle. “Would you like some assistance getting back to your room?” he asked as he secured the fabric. He sounded so formal, like he knew he was treading on thin ice, and didn’t quite know how to address me now.
I shook my head. “I did just climb my way out of a water well. I believe I can manage.” Then, feeling a bit harsh, remembering he had tried to help me save Mrs. Fawnsworth, I added, “However, thank you.”
He regarded my tousled appearance with a frown. I suspected I still had sand plastered to the side of my face and hair.
“The washroom is down the hall should you find the need to bathe, or . . .” He tripped up on his words as if the thought of me bathing unnerved him. If I had to take a guess, I’d say he hasn’t spent a lot of time around women.
And especially never living so close to one at that.
I smiled at him, taking the advantage. “Yes, I think a warm bath would be welcomed. No more unpleasant surprises from you or anyone else, and I think I shall survive the horrors of the washroom on my own.”
“I promised to never betray your trust again,” Xander said suddenly. He rose from his crouch, a mere foot in front of me. He stood a moment more before relinquishing his gaze and hastily making his way towards the door of the kitchen. He then slowed as he reached the frame, his broad shoulders filling much of the space between. “And Lily?” he added quietly, his back still to me.
“As your partner now—it’s a promise I intend to keep.”
Chapter 13
Dex ~ A Real Gentleman
The next morning I was surprised to find myself in a bed and not remembering how I had gotten there.
I wiped at my face and found it to be clean of the gritty sand, though when I looked under the covers, I was still wearing my clothes from the previous day. Quickly trying to dispel my panic, I began searching for the missing pieces to yesterday’s memories.
The last thing I remembered was the feeling of exhausted drowsiness after Xander had left me alone to finish the remainder of my meal. If I had to take a guess, I do not think I made it very far past the end of the dining table.
I groaned, embarrassed and frustrated, knowing I hadn’t gotten to this room on my own. I sat up in the bed and kicked the warm sheet from my body, tired of him always coming to my rescue. He should’ve left me at the table. Standing on sore legs, I reached to grab my satchel and carried it to the washroom down the hall.
The workshop was quiet as I stepped past the door. Not hearing Xander milling about yet, I figured taking a moment to bathe wouldn’t be such a bad idea. If I looked as bad as I smelled . . . then yes, bathing was a priority. I would soon be working in the smithy, on my armor, and become filthy once more—but I needed to smooth out the knots that coiled tightly against my aching muscles, and soothe the skin of my blistered fingers.
Luckily, I wouldn’t need Xander’s help creating my armor. The many hours of tutoring my parents had arranged for me in the art of Blacksmithing made sure of that. “A Mistress must be able to understand all forms of design and engineering,” my mother told me as a child when I looked sourly at the scroll she had handed me.
At least it isn’t Household Activities, I remembered thinking that day.
The tutor’s projects came naturally to me and with ease, but I found my mind still lingered to something else, somewhere else: beyond the Wall.
I entered into the small, well-lit washroom and stood impressed. A large bronze tub sat in the middle, complete with attached pipes. Heating pipes? I wondered. The Estate had a Hypocaust heating system, but many homes did not—being that the underground pillars and steam fires were labor extensive and expensive to maintain.
I looked up, past the tub and to the wall behind. Smooth stones were carefully arranged along its surface, a design I had never seen before. They swirled forming what my books illustrated as a mountain. A mountain with water raining from its side.
I looked to the heating pipes again. How Xander had attained such luxuries on his own continued to perplex, yet still amaze me.
I had time. I would unravel his complex web of mysteries.
Whether he liked it or not.
~
Bathing quickly, I rinsed my hair in the sink then hurried to pull on a pair of trouser pants and clean shirt from my bag. Finally, I took a seat on the floor so I could lace my boots, loving how the leather clasped to my legs like its own form of armor.
Toweling my still-damp hair, I walked into the open workshop and overheard Xander speaking to someone. A male’s voice.
Entering into the room, I caught sight of an unfamiliar young man. Not that young, I thought again. He looked to be a few years older than I, in his early to mid-twenties—nearer to Xander in age. And he wore a dark brown trench coat that reminded me of those from Sector 3.
They both turned and stared as I approached. I continued walking slowly, self-consciously unsure why they were looking at me so intently; like I was the missing link to a complicated puzzle they were both trying to solve.
Trench Coat put down the wrench he was twirling in his hand and walked over to me, extending his half-gloved fingers in greeting. He smelled of dampened leather, not at all unpleasant, somewhat comforting actually.
“It’s a pleasure, lil’ lady. The name’s Dex,” he said as he shook my hand, a wry glint in his eyes.
“Lily,” I replied cautiously.
His eyes shifted momentarily to my wounded arm. “You look like you’ve had a rough few days,” he stated bluntly, casting an accusing glance back at Xander.
Xander wore a blacksmith’s apron and, judging by the soot and sweat that covered his arms, he had been at work for most of the morning unlike I had previously thought.
Xander gave Dex a look that said: I’m-not-about-to-go-into-it-with-you, and went back to pounding the glowing piece of metal he held clamped. His arms tensed and relaxed in a synchronized rhythm, the sweat that covered his arms reflecting the orange glow of the molten metal.
Dex took one look at Xander’s firm and distant stare and then back at my bandaged arm before he broke into a disbelieving laugh.
“Xander, you didn’t do what I think you did?” he asked, his eyes skeptical.
“Do what?” I asked confused.
“You threw her down the well didn’t you?”
Xander’s stern silence as he continued to hammer—was all the confirmation Dex needed.
Dex made a gruff noise at the back of his throat and put his arm around my shoulder as if to comfort me. “See how he treats you?” He tsk’d. “You know what you need to do is come stay with a real gentleman like me. I’d never endanger you like your little boyfriend over there would,” he said, scrunching me up against his side with a smile. His jacket scraped unintentionally against my bandaged elbow, making me cringe.
“Hands off, Dex,” Xander said as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. He ignored the black soot that smeared the side of his face as he thrust the smoldering end of the metal into a vat of iced water. His motions were methodical as he watched from behind the wall of steam that erupted from the combustion of the two.
Xander was intensely focused at all times it seemed. Whether he was cleaning a wound or helping me flee the Sector 7 Wall, he had been patient and unbelievably thorough.
Dex raised his hands in mock surrender. Xander and Dex had a history together, one would be a fool not to see. And even though Dex picked fun, it seemed to be only in good nature.
“How did you know about the well? Does Xander share all his secrets with you?” I as
ked, though I didn’t for a second believe Xander would share his secrets with anyone.
Dex squinted as he assessed me soberly. “I guess you could say I’m his supplier of sorts.”
Xander paused his hammering and glared at Dex in warning.
I frowned at Xander. “What? You electrocute and toss me into a dark abyss and I’m suddenly the one not to be trusted?”
“It safer the less you know,” Xander said bluntly, his face severe, not revealing anything on the matter. He stood fixedly as the pooled sweat gleamed from his neck, creating graying lines as it ran down the sides of his arms. It was hot even where I stood—my face and neck warming the closer I stepped towards the stone furnace next to him.
Prying my way through Xander’s resolve was like trying to scratch through a brick wall with only my fingernails, so I asked, addressing myself to Dex once more. “Supplier? You mean more like . . . Arms Dealer?”
Dex smirked. “Xander, you gotta watch this one. The girl’s quick,” he said, nudging me in the shoulder.
So I was right. That explained how Xander gets his hands on so much unsanctioned Council supplies and weaponry. But how did Dex get it?
What were they planning?
Xander doused another long piece of glowing metal into the vat of cool water and was again shrouded in a cloud of steam as the two mixed. He placed the finished product on the slab of stone before him. I craned my head to get a look at what he had been working on . . . .
A magnificent bronze-hued sword.
It had yet to be put onto the sharpening stone, but even now I couldn’t help but marvel at its finely crafted curvature. It was beautiful. Deadly.
“Lily,” Xander said softly as he ran his fingers across the surface of the blade, breaking me away from my admiring gaze. “If you must know, I’ve been acquainted with Dex for some time now. He retrieves what I need when I need it and I repay him for the supplies. That’s all.”
“We go way back because I’m not interested in findin’ his knife at my neck one of these nights if I ever get the insane idea to double cross him,” Dex added matter of factly. “Xander can be a fierce lil’ bastard if you let him.” Dex looked at me and sniffed. “I remember the first time we met. He had that crazed look in his eyes. You know, the desperate, savage type—the one all the street girlies love? His hair was long and unruly, mud was caked all over him, and I had a knife at my throat for calling him out on it,” he said with a mischievous grin.
“Dex,” Xander warned with authority, giving him a look that dared him to continue.
“Sorry!” Dex said smiling, throwing his hands into the air for effect. He picked up the credit pouch that was lying on the table and tossed it from hand to hand before backing his way to the door.
“By the way, Lily—my credits are on Sector 8. Try not to let me down, girlie,” he said before he winked and turned to exit the hanger.
I turned to Xander. “So what was that all about?” I asked, crossing my arms and watching him as he went back to his work.
“Dex is going to be our go-to-guy when we need some intel.”
“That sounds illegal.”
Xander arched an eyebrow at me and wiped his soot covered hands over his blackened apron.
“What?” I snapped. “It does seem illegal. You shouldn’t be taking any unnecessary risks and get us forfeited. We already have too many aspects working against us as it is.”
Having no counter argument, Xander laid his hammer on the table and walked over to the area where I was to build my suit. “Mind stepping over here so I can fit you to this?”
I looked at him skeptically, but followed him. “Fit me to what—” I started to ask, but became extremely distracted.
My eyes widened after he slowly spun a partially covered, armor-clad mannequin into view.
A female mannequin.
“How . . . . When did you find the time to do this?” I cried. He’s already put together a majority of my suit?
He shrugged, unfazed by my bewilderment. “It’s what I do.”
I paused, eyes blinking. “Shouldn’t I have had a say in this?” I asked as I ran my fingers over the hardened surface of the breastplate. “I was to be the next Mistress of Science. They teach us a few things about designing you know.” I fell silent, not sure if I was angry or relieved. “Blacksmith or not, you shouldn’t have done any of this for me.”
Sighing a shuttering breath, I looked at him sharply. “Seriously Xander, I cannot even begin to understand how you managed this. Do you even sleep?”
He shrugged again. “No, not really.” He tilted his head to the corner of the wall. “And besides, I had some help.” He stepped past the mannequin to the corner where a tarp lay covering a small object. He tugged the tarp, revealing a stocky automaton beneath, lying bent in its sleep mode.
Xander flipped a switch behind its neck and I watch in awe as it came to life, flipping through an assortment of tools on each hand. It finally settled on a clamp in its left and a cutter on its right: the mode it was last in.
“Meet Geri. Like his name suggests—he’s kind of old—but even so, he gets the job done. I found him in the hanger when I first moved in. I fixed him up and now he works like a charm.” Xander smiled proudly as he reached to change its settings. The gears made a screeching noise and appeared to jam in place.
Xander slammed his fist into its side, forcing it to switch between tools, and looked up red-faced. “Well, most of the time.”
I blinked. “Geri like geriatric?”
Xander sniffed. “Yes. Lame, I know.”
“But who could’ve built him before?”
“No idea. He has no signature. I’ve checked already.”
I nodded, my mind curious. “So you’ll fix the other automaton like you fixed him? It’s a shame to leave it broken like it is.”
Xander powered Geri off. He stepped back into place beside the mannequin. “I will. In time. We have more important issues to deal with at the moment.”
I eyed the armored mannequin, agreeing with him, but having nothing else to say on the matter. “I cannot believe you did so much without me. It makes me feel inadequate. It makes me feel . . .” My lip curled distastefully as I lowered my voice to a whisper, “. . . like a girl.”
Xander grinned as he unlatched a piece from the mannequin’s leg. “No need to get your pride injured. You’ll have your chance to get your hands dirty,” he said as he kneeled to place the piece of metal to size up around my shin. Pushing my shock aside, I stood quietly while Xander placed the armor on me piece by piece. I was mesmerized by all the intricate details. Details I would’ve surely over-looked if I had designed the suit myself in the short span of time we had.
“Why is there more armor on the left side of my body?” I asked, looking up at him curiously. The pieces on my left shoulder were bulkier and consisted of a three tiered system. The one on my right shoulder was much smaller and from what I could tell, much lighter too.
Xander stood and positioned my left arm into a defensive stance.
“Your predominate fighting arm is your right, therefore your left side is prepared for protection to help you shield and block. You want your right arm to have less armor for the potential of rapid and faster attacks.”
“Oh,” I nodded, trying to not appear as stupid as I felt. I was embarrassed that I didn’t already know all of this. I supposed you learned a thing or two about fighting when you grew up and lived outside the safety of the Estate.
I stretched and rotated my arms to test the armor’s flexibility. I was surprised by how comfortable it was. I’d take this over corsets any day. I felt great. Powerful even.
The thought was foolhardy, but I felt as though the armor changed me somehow. I reached to my left shoulder and fingered the sharp end of a series of ornately spiraling, but deadly looking spikes.
“And these? What do they do?”
Xander finished strapping on my leg pieces and looked up.
“Those are more dec
orative than useful, but they do have their purpose. They can help prevent an attack to the neck.” He mock-thrust an invisible sword towards my head to demonstrate. “They make you look vicious, if nothing else,” he added, cinching a strap behind my shoulder.
“Yes, please. Let us give them many reasons to abandon the arena from the sheer terror of seeing me.”
Rolling his eyes, Xander reached for my wrist. I stalled him as I caught a closer look at the sharpened spirals. The pointed ends were formed from what looked like the unblossomed bud of a flower, each one of their stems spiraling upwards from the core of a small brass gear.
I breathed in awe. “I didn’t even realize . . . look at this detail.” I ran my finger across the ribbed surface of one of the petals. “They’re beautiful. What are they?” I inquired, looking over to him, not realizing he still waited for my hand.
“They’re Lotuses. Someone I’d known very well when I was younger spoke highly of them. A good man.” He tilted his head, considering his words. “They remind me of you.”
I wanted to ask him how so, and the way he said it made me think he wasn’t only referring to the flower. I didn’t get the chance to ask, however, he was already back in his demonstration mode.
“And this—extend your arm for me—will block any attacks to your upper arm and elbow.” He angled his hand demonstratively in partitions down the length of my arm. “Your bracers further down should lessen the damage taken to both forearms,” he added.
When he extended my body in a mock blocking position, the three tiered flat armaments moved backwards with the motion, overlapping one another completely. He ran his finger across the length of my armored arm. “See, now it all becomes one unified piece, leaving nothing exposed.”
I blinked rapidly, trying to accept all that I was being told. “So you have this all figured out, down to the very science of it,” I said quietly, failing to hide the slight desperation trying to consume any determination I might’ve once had.