Steelhands (2011) (69 page)

Even the dulcet tones of my neighbors making their morning rounds, feet clad in concrete blocks, was like music to my ears.

Since it was the
last
time, I no longer flinched every time bits of plaster came crumbling down from the ceiling above me; Luvander used it as a sort of metronome, setting the beat while he hummed and tossed things into crates.

Mostly, I was glad for the company, since it didn’t leave me much time to brood on all the things I was worried about, such as whether or not I was really ready to deal with another dragon and what I was going to name her, besides.

Dear Thom
, I began in my head, which was the only place such a letter could ever be written.
It seems that once again I have you to thank for changing the course of my life, though I wonder whether or not you ever intended to in the first place. I only hope you are able to make such strides in your own. I wish you all the best, and by the by, do you have any suggestions on what to name my new dragon? She is blue, if that helps you any
.

It was strange to think that without Thom’s letter, none of us might have ever been forewarned of what the Esar was planning. The magicians would have suffered most, though I also couldn’t bear to think of the poor children who’d died because of that fever. And yet I couldn’t ever tell Thom what he’d done for us just by his insistence on writing. I knew that he wasn’t the sort of man to revel in being praised, but it seemed a shame he might never know.

And for Rook, the only one of the remaining airmen who wasn’t in on the little secret …

If he ever came back to Thremedon, he’d thrash us all with one arm tied behind his back.

“None of these cups match,” Raphael commented from where he was standing on a chair and emptying out my cupboards. “How can this be, Balfour? I always considered you a kindred spirit, dedicated to the finer things in life, and now I discover you’re just as slovenly as the rest of them.”

“There
were
sets,” I protested, faintly. “It’s just that certain parts got broken when I was first learning to use my hands.”

“Oh,” Raphael said, pausing in his work to look guilty. It passed quickly; he never harbored the same emotion for very long. “I suppose you’re right, how terribly awkward of me. Now I’ve put my foot in it.”

“That’s right,” Luvander said, coming up on my left with another full box to hand off to Ghislain, who lifted it in one hand like it was no heavier than a pillow. “I bet you feel terrible now, and it’s no more than you deserve. Forgot you were dealing with the
new
Balfour, didn’t you? This one’s feisty. And watch out. When he hits back, I can only imagine how much it
hurts.
”

“I was only stating a fact,” I said, somewhat embarrassed. In truth, it was almost nice to be around someone who’d forgotten about my hands entirely—though I didn’t envy Raphael being in the position of catching up on everything he’d missed since being lost in the war.

Evidently he was quite resilient, just like the rest of us. He’d manage well enough, and he wouldn’t be doing it completely alone, either.

“Carriage’s getting pretty full,” Ghislain reported, coming back up the stairs and into my apartment. He was taking them three at a time, and the whole building shook with his massive strides. “Hope there aren’t many more boxes.”

“How kind of Lady Antoinette to lend us her driver to take Balfour out to the house,” Luvander commented, hefting another heavy box to pass it to Ghislain, groaning under its weight. “I wonder why she agreed to do that? Perhaps a personal interest in our well-being …? We
are
eligible bachelors, after all.”

“If she was interested, it wouldn’t be in you,” Ghislain said, taking the first box, then waiting around for a second. “I’ve got a free arm if anyone else’s got their shit packed.”

“Be very careful with these,” Raphael said, hopping down off his chair and holding out the crate that held my mismatched tea service.
“These teacups made it past Balfour Steelhands. They deserve to be treated with some respect.”

I glanced around the apartment—which looked less like a storm had hit and more like no one had ever lived in it at all. It reminded me of when we vacated the Airman, but since I had fewer fond memories of this place, I wasn’t nearly as sad to be leaving it behind, without a trace of myself left.

“Ah-ah,” Luvander chided, pulling a fountain pen out of some hidden pocket. “Before we go, we must make our mark.”

“The landlady was very specific about not scuffing the floors or walls,” I warned, knowing Luvander wouldn’t listen to me. He was already crouching by the kitchen window, scratching something under the ledge of the sill. “It’s a little habit I have,” he explained, after he’d finished. “I left one in the Airman, as well. It said, ‘Niall lost, Luvander won.’ ”

“No,”
Raphael said. “My money was on Niall.”

“That’s what you get for being a traitor,” Luvander replied.

I had no memory of the game Luvander and Raphael were referring to, but of course, knowing them as I did, it might just as easily have been made up. With Adamo down by the carriage, and Ghislain rocking the very foundations of the building, it was only the three of us. They were lingering, so I could tell there was something on their minds, but Luvander was right—they weren’t dealing with the old Balfour, and I wasn’t going to be the one to cave first.

“Well,” I said, “I suppose that’s everything. Thank you so much for the help.”

“It was our pleasure,” Luvander said.

“Yes,” Raphael agreed. “I love doing menial tasks for other people without any promise of reward.”

“Of course, there is
one
reward we
might
be granted,” Luvander added slyly.

“No, we couldn’t ask,” Raphael replied. “He’s bound to think we’re rude.”

“He thinks that already,” Luvander said. “We won’t have to worry about his opinion changing for the worse.”

“But still,” Raphael concluded, “it won’t
improve
our image any.”

“You might as well come right out with it,” I said, though I had to
admit, the routine was very well scripted. They might well have a future in the Amazement, if Luvander ever got tired of the haberdashery.

“You haven’t named her yet,” Luvander explained. “And the anticipation might kill Raphael a second time.”

“Luvander’s the one it’s really been bothering,” Raphael confided in me. “He won’t shut up about it. Though I suppose that doesn’t make it much different from any other topic that interests Luvander.”

“It’s only that I have a few suggestions,” Luvander said. “I’m afraid you’ll do something uncomfortable for everyone—like name her ‘Steelballs.’ ”

“You can’t very well do that,” Raphael added. “She lacks the proper anatomy, and it will only make her feel inadequate among the other dragons.”

“Shh,” I said, in case my landlady was eavesdropping on us. Then, because I was going to have to tell them sooner or later—and because, even though it was technically none of their business, I’d never hear the end of it if I didn’t choose a name everyone approved of—I relented. They
had
come to help me, and I could only imagine how deeply they resented me, the only one of the older order to be given a second chance at what had made us who we were.

That they weren’t letting on just proved their character, and I was grateful to them—more grateful than I would ever be able to show.

“I was thinking ‘Steelhands,’ actually,” I replied. “Call it a sudden inspiration.”

For once, I could tell I’d gotten the better of them, since both Raphael and Luvander looked equally shocked. I supposed that sealed it.

“I hope you know this is entirely
your
fault,” Raphael informed Luvander, after a long pause.

“She does have hands, at least, after a fashion,” Luvander reasoned. “We’ll just have to make sure she understands her namesake. Since no one
else
will be singing it to her.”

The familiar sound of Ghislain coming back up the stairs heralded his return; he was followed closely by Adamo, and I realized there were no further boxes left. We were finished, with relatively little incident, and I had never been more happy to bid final farewell to a place as I was then.

“Just one more thing we need to do before we’re done,” Ghislain said, which brought me up short.

“There is?” I asked, wondering if I’d forgotten a room.

“Adamo tells me you’ve been having some trouble with those upstairs neighbors,” Ghislain explained, jerking his thumb upward. “Figured I could give ’em a few good-byes of my own.”

I stared at him for a moment, speechless. Then I couldn’t help but toss my head back and laugh, the others joining in, despite us all knowing Ghislain was dead serious.

“Go right ahead,” I told him. “Whoever moves in next will never know what a true hero you really are.”

“I’m fine with that,” Ghislain said, and started for the door.

With all of us together, it felt as much like old times as I’d needed. Just like the first time we’d been brought together by the dragons—though now I was armed with the knowledge that there were other, more resilient ties between us. I wasn’t going to forget it, and I didn’t plan on allowing the others to, either. It was a far cry from the timidity I’d exhibited in their presence once, but I liked to think I’d grown—perhaps into the kind of man worthy of a song or two in his honor.

I was a new man, and though certain parts of me were steel in name only, I would have no qualms about displaying my newfound resilience among my comrades. Somehow I felt as though I was the one who’d been rebuilt alongside these new dragons, and I wasn’t about to let the opportunity at a second chance pass me by.

J
AIDA
J
ONES
and D
ANIELLE
B
ENNETT
wrote their first novel together,
Havemercy
, over the Internet—Jones in New York, and Bennett in British Columbia. They now shuttle between apartments in Brooklyn and Victoria, B.C., which makes their collaboration much easier. They are also the authors of
Shadow Magic
and
Dragon Soul
.