Tinker's Justice (31 page)

Chapter 24

“All that is old will be new again. I think whoever said that meant music and clothing, but apparently it works for people, too.” – Lord Dunston Harwick

Tanner stood at the railing of the
Mirror’s Trick
, looking down at the countryside far below. Long shadows stretched to the west, as trees and hillsides fought back the dawn’s light. Tanner had never cared for sea travel, despite having spent far too much of his life traveling the waves. But airship travel was growing on him. His twin aboard the
Jennai
would go on raids through the machine and find the feel of solid ground beneath his feet strange. The engines had a hum to them, heard by the ear and felt by the soles of the feet. It never went away during flight, merely changing in tone, and its absence was louder than its presence.

“Have you stolen a pocketclock?” Stalyart asked. Tanner flinched at the voice, but relaxed immediately. Stalyart was among the few who could still sneak up on him unheard—he supposed it was easier due to the engine noise.

Tanner glanced around, finding the two of them relatively alone. Only a few crew members were topside; most still weren’t accustomed enough to the air to seek the skies for leisure. “Yeah, couple raids ago.”

Stalyart pressed a timekeeping device into his hands. “Well, here is one to go with it. My man has reported back. The time is set. When the small hand reaches eight, it begins.”

“How many of them have you got?” Tanner asked.

“Pardon?”

“Twinborn spies? How many have you got spread around Tellurak and Veydrus.”

“Never enough, it seems,” Stalyart replied. But it wasn’t a true reply. Tanner knew he wouldn’t get a proper number out of the cagey pirate.

“Just feels like I’m getting hung out in the wind on this one.”

“My dear friend,” said Stalyart. “You were a coinblade for many years. This is far from the most danger you have faced. And in return, an airship, a pardon, and vengeance for your friend.”

“You got a drink by any chance?” Tanner asked.

“Jadon slumbers still,” Stalyart replied. “Perhaps afterward, we will drink in celebration. Until then, perhaps it is best you remain alert.”

Everything was too tall. For a goblin, it was the plight of living among humans. But for all the inconvenience of tabletops above eye level and forks that barely fit into his mouth, there were advantages as well. The
Jennai
had the greatest workshop K’k’rt had ever seen, and Rynn had apologized for it being small and crowded. If only she knew what crowded was really like. K’k’rt had shared a space the size of the
Jennai’s
workshop with no fewer than fifty other goblins.

Using an upturned packing crate as a stepstool, the goblin tinker surveyed the plans spread over the workbench. He had learned the Korrish style of draftsmanship from Madlin during her stay among his people, and was soon able to puzzle out that the device simply called a “lift,” was actually an arrangement of pulleys that lifted a box with doors up a shaft. Apparently the
Jennai
was in need of such a device. Stretching across the table for a sheet of the schematic that was barely within his reach, he winced in anticipation of the pain the act would cause in his shoulders and side.

No pain came. K’k’rt chuckled, unable to get over just how much help that little potion had been. When Madlin had told him it would make him young again, he had hardly believed her. It was the lie of the legend, as his people would say. A great many old stories contained a pearl of truth at the core, but had been surrounded with lies too extravagant to be possible. Yet here he was, with the color returning to his hair and the aches all but gone from his joints.

The opening of the workshop door drew K’k’rt’s attention from the plans for the lift. With hearing better than he’d had in years, he picked up the subtle squeak and squish of spring-stabilized legs. Rynn had arrived for the day’s work.

“You’re here early,” she remarked upon entering. There was a tingling in the air around her.

“Time shift,” he replied. On a hunch, he let his eyesight drift into the aether. “I wake up at odd times since I’ve been here. You’ve … been playing with magic.”

“Anzik taught Madlin a couple tricks,” Rynn replied. “I’ve been practicing for her sake. I can barely rub two aethers together to make fire.”

K’k’rt chuckled. “That’s not how it works, you know.”

Rynn scowled down at him. Even standing atop the crate, she was a head taller. “I got it working, didn’t I?”

K’k’rt took a moment to inspect the shielding spell she wore more closely. “Aligned to lightning. Are we doing something dangerous with one of your spark devices today?”

“That’s what Anzik worries about, anyway. You can tell that by looking?”

“It takes practice,” K’k’rt said. He muttered in the arcane language and weaved his fingers through the air. A shielding spell similar to Rynn’s sprang to life around him.

“I see you’ve got the touch back.”

“I don’t feel the bones in my fingers grinding together anymore when I move them,” said K’k’rt. “You’d be amazed how much that sort of thing gets in the way of spell-casting.”

“Anzik and Dan always seemed to be able to manage without moving or speaking.”

“Freaks, the both of them,” said K’k’rt with a sneer.

There was a brief shudder in the ship, a tremor that worked its way from the steel floor through the crate, into K’k’rt’s feet and up into his belly. He looked to Rynn. “Does the ship do that often?”

Rynn’s mouth hung open, as if she was waiting for an answer to form there before she spoke. Her eyes drifted to the wall nearest where the tremor seemed to have originated. “No. Never.”

Without another word, she sprinted for the door. K’k’rt followed, wondering what it was about youth that made one prone to rashness. He supposed it was the lack of pain when moving.

The daruu in their resplendent armor lined up like statues, awaiting orders. Danilaesis had never had troops quite like them. Though the armors they wore varied wildly in color, decoration, even material from one to the next, they all shared a similar glow in the aether. Runeforged. Not the tawdry runed weapons carried by the likes of Tanner, the daruu had hammered the runes right into the heart of the metal—or as in one case, dragon scale.

“It is as you say, Warlock Danilaesis,” King Dekulon said. They all stood before the transport gate, looking through at the
Jennai
, where some lowly underling sat at the controls of one of the rebels’ machines. “Just as with the kuduks, we cannot allow these enemies of the daruu people to maintain possession of such dangerous devices.”

Danilaesis glared sidelong at Kezudkan, the daruu who had built the machine, daring him to contradict the king. His time among the rebels had furnished him with Kezudkan’s name, as well as the knowledge that these humans hardly gave any
other
daruu a second thought. Put Kezudkan’s head on a serving platter for Cadmus Errol, and they’d have an alliance done within the hour. But so long as neither he nor Kezudkan came down with an unfortunate case of honesty, there was no need for that ever to become public knowledge.

“My troops are ready when yours are,” Danilaesis said with a military bow to King Dekulon. The Kadrin soldiers looked shabby by comparison to the daruu Iron Guard. Not a single knight of the empire numbered among them. As far as Danilaesis was concerned, he was bringing them along as fodder. It had been a courtesy to their daruu allies to bring regular army troops instead of conscripts, but that was as far as he was willing to go. Had someone laid odds for him, he might have bet that a few of the Iron Guard might survive the assault. But as it was planned, he was likely to be the only survivor from either side.

The king turned to Kezudkan and his other advisors. “Let us adjourn somewhere comfortable to await the results.”

“Once we’re through, shut it all the way down,” Danilaesis replied. “One of our enemies can see the target locator even when it’s not open. I don’t know whether he can see
through
or not.” Danilaesis knew that nothing could be seen through from the far side when the transport gate was closed, but there were certain events about to take place for which he wanted no witnesses.

“Yes, sir,” Gederon replied. Danilaesis found much about the daruu people to both like and dislike. Gederon never objected to anything he was ordered to do, and rarely asked questions.

“When we get through, you’re going to find at least four machines like this one aboard the ship,” Danilaesis said. “These
must
be shut down; otherwise, they can use them to bring in reinforcements. You just need to break them enough that they don’t work. If we recover any that can be repaired, fine, but that’s not the goal here.” Danilaesis repeated the instructions in Korrish. It was bloody inconvenient that neither side had troops who understood a common language.

Danilaesis had chosen their first target, the one that would put the rebels on the defensive the quickest: the main transport gate. More importantly, once all four were destroyed, it would trap Anzik Fehr aboard with nowhere to hide.

“Open it,” Danilaesis ordered. He drew
Sleeping Dragon
and stood at the fore, ready to be the first one through. As the transport gate opened he charged through, releasing a blast of lightning that took out the operator of the machine as well as the control console. “No survivors!”

Silverware clattered as a plate thumped down on the table. Greuder looked down at his early morning guest with a narrow gaze.

“Since when do you take a breakfast anywhere but at that gutted machine of yours?” Greuder asked.

Cadmus grinned, sizing up his eggs and bacon and making a quick estimate as to how hungry he was in comparison. He took a gulp from a tankard filled with coffee to brush aside what little remnants of sleep his excitement hadn’t scrubbed away. “Big day today,” he replied. “Can’t afford any distraction. Once I get to work this morning, I’m pushing through until I’m done.”

“Oh?” Greuder asked. He set down a plate bearing his own meal and collapsed into a chair beside it. “Making any improvements? Or is this something to do with the hush-hush project Madlin’s been off working on.”

“Blast me if I know where that girl’s gone. Only Rynn and Eziel know for sure. No, I’ve got something else planned. Something I’ve waited a long time for.”

“Just spit it out, Cadmus. What’ve you got cooked up?”