Steamscape (23 page)

She didn’t know how long she kept the bubble solid. She watched the wind blow through the trees and the movement of the eternal aether bands.

It was getting hard to breathe and she was feeling light headed and faint, but she kept up the bubble.

When she finally fainted, the bubble dissolved as though it was a shawl sliding from her shoulders.

When she awoke a few moments later, she sniffed. Nothing smelled out of place. She tried a few more breaths. Whatever had killed these troops had long since blown away. The chuckling of the brook was the only sound.

The vessel tiptoed around the corpses. She could not look at the face of the man as she pried the sancta loose from his fingers.

She turned away, but then curiosity called from over her shoulder. She pushed open the door of the engine-cart and flinched as it squeaked into the silence. Gasmasks, metallic canisters and more lined the inside of the cart. She took a few of the grenades.

Quickly, she tugged off one of the former soldier’s uniforms. It seemed it could fit well enough, and it was better than her own ruined clothing. Some of the boys certainly hadn’t been older than she.

Still, she changed on the other side of the carriage, out of sight. After balancing the cap on her head and removing any sign of rank, she stuck her head back inside and snatched up a backpack. She stuffed that with one of the canisters and took a gasmask on an afterthought.

Solindra stepped back and studied the engine-cart. She could put on the mask and set it on fire. She supposed Flame had rubbed off on her after all, just like the other members of the Hex she’d known.

It might explode, but it would destroy whatever those things were, and she had one to take back to Jing.

“Hey!”

Solindra whirled. More soldiers were breaking through the forest. They were mostly out of sight, just blurred shadows.

“You’re not supposed to move that during the day. Cover it up!”

“Yes, sir!” She saluted.

The voice paused. “Was that a woman?”

Solindra swung the rifle down into one hand while she threw the backpack over the other shoulder. She rolled some of the other canisters out onto the ground, and heard the expletive shouts behind her. Then she ran across the field and back toward the embrace of the forest.

Solindra’s heart raced faster than her feet. Gunshots splintered the branches around her and she heard the bullets singing through the trees ahead. She bunched up her legs and jumped, rolling around the trunk of a tree. With her back pressed against it, she dropped the backpack from her arm. She held her father’s rifle to her chest and tried to focus on her breathing.

Tried and failed. Her entire body was shaking. Another bullet thunked into a tree a few feet away.

Now or dead. Her mind shut down. She dropped to her knees, swung around the tree and lined up her shot.

The canister that she’d dropped outside of the engine-cart rocked back with the force of the bullet. The newly-arrived Steampower soldiers screamed and scattered in all directions. Some of them even came straight at her, no longer chasing but fleeing in her direction.

Solindra picked up the backpack and ran. She didn’t turn to see if the gas was escaping. Shouts and footsteps followed her. Breaking branches sounded like breaking bones.

She jumped over the edge of the next hill and helplessly bowled down its side. Mark’s rifle strap choked her because the gun couldn’t bend, but the moment passed as the slide continued.

Coughing, she rolled to her knees at the bottom. Gunfire exploded from the top of the hill and kicked up dried leaves next to her hand.

Solindra pushed herself to her feet, completely forgetting the new aches and stings in her arms and legs.

She didn’t dare pause. Her legs twinged and threatened to give out, but she couldn’t stop running. She just needed to get a little farther ahead and then, what? Keep running?

Yes, for now.

Solindra pushed through the overgrowth and nearly toppled over a cut bank into a rock-lined river. It was seemingly shallow between the deeper pools created around the boulders, and it was flowing fast.

“Hey! Stop!”

She whirled around to see two Steampower soldiers approaching, their rifles leveled at her chest. She gripped the still-muddy sancta in one palm and held up both her hands. Her own gun and the backpack hung off her arms.

The soldiers stepped forward.

Wind struck up from behind and a blanket of steam suddenly rose up from the river. In seconds, the riverside was covered in the cooling steam.

Solindra dropped. A shot from one of the soldiers whizzed overhead. She held her breath, listening for them to start moving. She rubbed her eyes, trying to clear her vision. It was impossible to see more than a foot away.

A hand reached through the mist and hauled on her shoulder. “Crypter witch!”

She gasped and, in reflex, kicked him in the kneecap. He howled and she wrenched out of his grasp.

“Freddy?” the other soldier called. “Freddy, where are you?” He sounded like he was facing the wrong way.

Solindra rolled backward over the bank and eased her way down into the water and boulders. She concentrated and essayed a boot forward. It struck a rock. The water’s roar seemed to grow louder in her ears, but she still couldn’t see anything.

She hovered her foot over her next step. If she lost her balance here…

She scowled. “I can do better.” A disc of steam formed beneath her boot, hovering over the water and solid enough for her to walk on. She made another steam disc, and like a frog hopping across lily pads, she stepped out over the river.

***

The presence was gone. All he had was a void.

Theo rubbed his forehead, trying to coax it out. Through these past horrible years it had told him what to do in order to survive. And now it was gone.

He squared the enlarged switchpack between his hands. It fired off a pillar when he triggered the mercury switch. Smith hadn’t shown him what with this would be combined; he had only instructed him to build more. He tried to guess the next link in the concatenation of events that could cause pure aether to ignite. Aether wasn’t even energy itself; it was just something through which energy could be transferred or amplified. Therefore, aether itself could not ignite. Maybe he’d misunderstood something.

He stared at the large switchpack in his hand. These must start up some other engine that affected the fifth element. It might be something far more, well, atomic.

He shook his head. Atoms had been proven over seventy years ago, but he didn’t have any idea about what atoms made up aether or what could be done with them. He played with people, not with science like this.

He gripped the switchpack in white knuckles. This was just another step on the path. His goal was to kill Flame. Nothing else mattered. Especially no deals with the Hex.

He just wished that he’d be able to raise his arm with a weapon in hand against the murderer and not freeze up.

In the back of his mind, he hoped that Solindra had fled the country. She didn’t deserve Smith. She had a spark, yeah, but it had certainly been no fire.

Theo pushed back his chair and stalked toward the door. Just as he was reaching out his hand, it opened on its own.

Smith tipped his hat from the other side. “Going somewhere, Mr. Meilleur?”

“Yeah, lunch.” Theo raised his chin to disguise the crack in his voice.

The Reaper’s smile spread like a snake’s. “My, what a marvelous idea. I know this fascinating little restaurant none too far from here.” He pointed with the tip of the cane. “Let’s clean up shop first and make this back into the abandoned apartment it is.”

Theo’s feet froze to the floor. “Uh. Yes, Mr. Smith.”

“Excellent.”

They tidied up, or rather, the Reaper watched as Theo stowed all visible signs of their haunting. The bricoleur followed Smith as he moseyed down Redjakel’s sparkling avenues and by the buildings that acted as barriers between those boulevards and the noisome alleys and streets in the industrial sections of Steampower’s heart.

Smith turned into an alley and pushed open a door halfway down the way. Theo followed and they took seats in a corner booth. A short waitress, probably a few years younger than Solindra, but with the same red hair, swung by their table. “Beef sandwiches are the house special today, and we’ve also got stew. Always got stew.”

“Just some plain bread for me, Miss Zelia Pressgrove,” Smith requested.

The girl’s mouth dropped open. “D-do I know you, sir?”

He shook his head. “No, but I always do my research. You have the cleanest kitchen in this quarter of the city and charge less than most of your competitors.”

Theo had been equally floored. He crunched his knuckles and tried to loosen his jaw. Zelia offered a half-hearted smile, but still licked her lips. “Uh, yes. Stew and some house wine. Right away.”

“Oh my.” Smith was gazing at the restaurant’s bulletin board. “Fetch me that flyer, boy.”

Theo scowled. “Which…?” He saw which one. The bold letters outlining “The Hex” were clearly visible. He plucked it off the wall and dropped it across their table.

The bricoleur gulped.

“Hmm.” Smith twisted the paper so that the words were upright. “The Hex resurrected and working fully for Steampower. Interesting indeed.” He spun the paper in half-circle back toward Theo. “It looks like we may have a vessel to catch after all.”

Theo’s eyes slid toward Zelia’s long red hair before he could stop himself.

Smith shook his head. “Being a vessel is not her secret. Hers is far more mundane.”

“What?”

“Smuggling refugees, in fact. Some of them are hiding in kitchen, cooking our stew, I believe.”

How does he know? Theo wondered. He said, “But all those who don’t live in Redjakel must report to the camps. Shelter, food, work and all that.”

“Yes, that’s what they tell you. But that work you so casually mentioned is conscription for the war effort. And one would hate to refuse and be branded a traitor at a time like this.”

“How do you find all of this out?”

“The Priory is well funded.”

“That doesn’t explain how,” Theo shot back.

Smith sighed. “Good question. Wrong time.”

Theo glared.

“There is always a right time eventually,” Smith said and pulled a folding knife from his jacket. He retrieved a small block of wood from his pocket and started to whittle as casually as ever. “As I said before, even a careful man gets careless at some point. The trick is to intercept that point.”

“Are you talking about Flame?”

“Perhaps.” Smith didn’t raise his eyes. Behind him, a shadow rolled up, blocking out the dim light of the alley. “Ah. I’d hoped we would have our meal first. Alas for better days.”

Theo stiffened in his seat at the sight of the Steampower soldiers blocking the door. Across the room, Zelia dropped the glass of beer she’d been carrying.

They worked quickly, bursting into the kitchen and opening fire. Voices shouted. Cupboards were kicked open and walls were shot through.

Theo sat motionless, helpless. He saw Zelia casting them a look of iron fury and hatred, all because they had known her name. She probably thought they were the ones who had betrayed her. He tried to shake his head, but couldn’t get it to move.

One of the soldiers grabbed her by her flaming hair and dragged her out of the restaurant into the alley. She screamed, and then the bark of a pistol cut her off.

The rest of the refugees’ bodies were carted off from the kitchen. The soldiers vanished like a fading thunderstorm.

Theo finally allowed himself to blanch. “Those kids didn’t do anything!”

Smith cracked his knuckles. “And that’s why they died. That’s why I am showing you how to be stronger than they were. Right now, you can have their fate too, if I want it.”

“If I want it?”

The Reaper held out his open palms. “Your late crypter friend didn’t put up a fight either.” He slapped the table. Theo fell limply in his seat, staring at Smith. The Reaper snarled, “Remember, for the moment, you’re just the bait. If I don’t decide otherwise, you will be fish bait too.” He tossed some switchpack wiring across the tabletop. “But you’ll be useful in the meantime.”