Steamsworn (Steamborn Series Book 3) (3 page)

“Say again?”

“Come to the Council Hall. I’d like to speak with you and Gladys.”

“Alice is with us.”

“Perfect! Bring her too, please, and make it quick. We have urgent business to discuss.”

“Was that Archibald?” Gladys asked as she narrowed her eyes at George. “What happened to shunning the “pale-skinned monkey’s mechanical abominations?”

“I … umm … never … well … I …” George rubbed his hands together and offered Alice a weak smile. “I meant no offense, my friend. Please, take no offense. It was only a joke.”

“Please,” Alice said as she waved her hand. “I’ve heard worse from school kids. Besides, I never imagined I’d get to see you flustered.”

“It’s an art form,” Gladys said with a sage nod of her head.

“You don’t think he meant George the Walker, do you?” Alice asked, pointing at the infinite nest of legs in the corner. George the Walker popped up his antennae, twitched them a few times, and then returned to sleep. Alice had promised Drakkar she’d come and visit the Walker while the Cave Guardian was away with Jacob, and now she felt she’d done her job quite thoroughly.

George—the Royal George, as Alice had come to think of him—folded his collar back down and sighed. “I make one oath to my king, never realizing I’d doomed myself to a life of babysitting.”

“We better get moving,” Gladys said. “Archibald sounded pretty firm about getting there fast.”

George nodded and locked the stable behind him. “We’ll take one of the crawlers.”

“There’s one here now,” one of the stable boys said, apparently having overhead George.

“Thank you,” George said as he followed Gladys out the wide sliding doors.

Alice trailed behind them. When the stable boy looked up and met her eyes, she said, “Get some better Sweet-Flies. George likes the big fat ones.”

The boy looked after the Royal Guard before his head jerked back to Alice. “Oh, you mean the Walker.”

Alice grinned and left the stable boy to ponder her meaning. She was pretty sure he’d get better Sweet-Flies for the occupants of the stables either way.

A
rchibald waited. He’d
made the calls, and he knew his people would come as fast as they could. It was strange to think of some of them as ‘his people.’ They weren’t, really. They were from Midstream and Ancora and far older places he could scarcely recall the name of. Common goals brought people together better than anything.

He’d always been good at waiting, but now impatience had him drumming his fingers and shuffling the papers laid upon the bench. Charles’s plan was bold, vicious, and everything he expected from the old tinker. It was exactly what they needed, no matter how much Archibald didn’t like the risk.

The tall metal door to the Hall creaked open, and Archibald’s impatience turned to something approaching excitement. It was a feeling he hated, the anticipation before the storm. The calm before the trial that would tell him how many people his commands had sent to their graves.

Archibald took a deep breath and composed himself as Smith and Mary stepped into the Hall. Archibald listened to the footsteps, the heavy thud of the tinker and the quiet click of the pilot’s boots echoing around him.

“Welcome,” he said as the two stopped before the bench.

Mary leaned forward and crossed her arms before laying her head on the bench. “What are we doing here, Archibald? I’m exhausted.”

Archibald said the words that filled him with anxiety and anticipation all at once. “I want you to prepare the warships.”

There was no sound in the Hall as Mary snapped her head up and stared at him. Her eyes were a light brown, and they reminded Archibald so much of her mother.

Smith crossed his arms and took a deep breath. “Prepare them for what?”

“Anything,” Archibald said. “The defense of Bollwerk is always the priority, but if Charles fails in Dauschen, we have to be ready.”

“Those ships are best prepared for air-to-air combat,” Smith said. “How do you want us to adapt them for air-to-ground?”

“Install the underbelly cannons.”

Smith blew out a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. “We have not tested them thoroughly enough for that. I am still concerned we could buckle the frame.”

“It’ll work,” Mary said.

“Mary …” Smith said.

She glanced up at him, and something flickered across her face that Archibald couldn’t place.

“We’ve done enough testing. I don’t think the frames are in danger.”

Smith squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. “It was never my intention to build an assault ship. Those cannons were meant for the defense of Bollwerk. Nothing more.”

“That’s what they’ll be used for,” Archibald said. “Even with the cannons, I’m afraid those ships are vulnerable outside the wall.”

“They are heavily armored,” Smith said. “There is little we have to fear from Dauschen, or Fel. Their ballistae should not be able to penetrate the armor.”

“We need something else to cover the ground forces,” Archibald said. “I want you to mount a chaingun on each gun pod.”

Mary cursed.

“I have no desire for death on such a scale,” Smith said. He lowered his eyes.

“Understand what is happening,” Archibald said, hoping the tinker didn’t take offense to the cutting words. “If they aren’t stopped in Dauschen, Ancora falls. If Ancora falls, Cave will fall. Once Fel rules the North with the Butcher a king in all but name, they
will
come for the Deadlands. They’ll come for our steel and our gunpowder, and if they control the trade of everything from medicine to candy, we’ll have little choice but to fight.

“We’ll have
no
choice,” Mary said. “Those bastards would put us to death. You’ve heard what they did in Dauschen. You want to see that here, Smith? You want to see Gladys gutted and hanging from the walls? Alice?”

It took everything Archibald had not to back away from the bench when Smith growled.

“I will need assistance,” Smith said. “Jacob and the old man are in Dauschen. I cannot build four chainguns with my own hands in a short amount of time.”

“George has two of the tinkers from Midstream who have already offered to help.”

Smith looked up, unable to hide the surprise on his face. “Midstream?”

Archibald nodded.

“I know of no tinkers from Midstream. They are luddites, though I mean no disrespect by that. They have no love for steam or biomechanics.”

Archibald squeezed his hands together and flexed his thumbs. “That’s not entirely accurate. Since Rana and the other warlords brought violence into the province and destroyed the remnants of Midstream, another side of the desert folk has shown itself. George tells me their blacksmiths have been working on weapons for nearly half a decade.”

Smith frowned and nodded. “Well, if they have experience with firearms, they may be able to help.”

“They have experience with a great many things,” Archibald said. “Do not discount them so quickly.

“Where did they learn the trade?” Smith asked.

“Belldorn,” Archibald said as he met Mary’s gaze.

“Wh … what?” Mary asked. “What could you possibly need with my old hometown? And what do you mean some backwards Midstreamers are learning from Belldorn?”

“Belldorn saw this war coming long before the rest of us were willing to believe it.”

“How can you even know that?” Mary asked. “My ancestral home is isolated, cut off from the rest of the continent on the other side of the wastes.”

“You’re not wrong,” Archibald said. “Their isolation gains them a great deal of freedom, but also a different perspective—an outsider’s perspective—on the conflicts all around them.”

Mary frowned slightly but didn’t interrupt. She leaned forward, hanging on Archibald’s words.

“What I am telling you does not leave this room. It wasn’t ten years after the Deadlands War before Belldorn approached me. Bollwerk was their last attempt after Ancora turned them away. They came to offer a silent partnership. In exchange for information from my spies, they would help build our warships.”

“Why?” Smith asked. “What do they gain by arming a potential enemy?”

“Wait for the others,” Archibald said. “I don’t want to repeat this story.”

“What others?” Mary asked.

“George, and Gladys, and Alice.”

“Not the kids,” Smith said. “We already had to build a leg for Jacob. What else do you intend to risk?”

“Everything.”

*     *     *

Alice heard raised
voices on the other side of the door. She exchanged a glance with George. He shrugged and then knocked on the tall bronze door at the top of the lift. The shouting receded. Someone distinctly said, “Come.”

George pushed the levered handle down until it clicked. He pushed the heavy slab of metal to the side. Alice’s ever-widening view eventually showed her Archibald, Mary, and Smith at the bench on the far side of the Hall. Papers and glasses were strewn about, and it was obvious that some of them had been thrown onto the floor.

“This looks friendly,” Alice said as she stepped in behind Gladys.

“Stay with me, Gladys,” George whispered.

Alice thought he sounded paranoid. It was three of their friends, not a pack of warlords. Then she remembered how George had been hurt because he’d tried to fight off Rana and his men. George was a protector. Alice chastised herself for the thoughts she hadn’t spoken aloud.

“They are here now,” Smith said. He glanced from Alice to Archibald. “Tell us of the secret pact with Belldorn.”

“What?” George asked.

“They’ve kept their word,” Archibald said, “if even you are unaware, George. I’ve told Smith and Mary some of what I’m about to tell you. Do not repeat this outside of our circle.”

“Not even to Jacob?” Alice asked.

Archibald nodded. “Jacob and your friends can know.”

“George knows the story,” Archibald said. “Long before the Deadlands War, Belldorn was attacked by the desert natives. It was a terrible, bloody war with no decisive victor. In the end, the tribes forged an uneasy alliance. Eventually, they settled what would eventually be known as Bollwerk.

“The same war sent Belldorn spiraling into isolation. They filled in the mountain passes that granted access to their trade routes, and eventually the entire city faded from the political landscape, obscured by the civil wars waged in Bollwerk.

“What few immigrants came here told us they were from a small village near the sea. Only a few of us knew the truth,” Archibald said as he glanced at Alice. His eyes lingered on her for a while before returning to the others.

Archibald tapped his fingers on the bench. “It is now Bollwerk that has an uneasy alliance with Belldorn. It is us, and some of our spies in that alliance, more specifically. Not ten years after the Deadlands War, Belldorn approached me. Our alliance depends on the exchange of information from my spies.”

“Exchange for what?” George asked. He frowned and removed his hand from Gladys’s shoulder.

“They helped build the warships,” Smith said.

George cursed and closed his eyes as he ran his hands over his hair. “Why, in all that burns upon the desert, would they do
that?
”

“They gain warning against an invasion from someone other than Ballern,” Archibald said. Before anyone could say more in the confused silence that followed, Archibald continued. “Belldorn has been defending itself against Ballern for almost two centuries. When Ballern struck at Fel, it was only after one of Belldorn’s spies was captured during an air raid. Ballern didn’t know of the other cities here. They’d only ever attacked Belldorn.”

“My mentor, Targrove?” Smith asked.

“Targrove was from Belldorn,” Archibald said with a nod. “It’s why you could never place his accent.”

Smith frowned and glanced at Mary. “He told me he spent time in several cities.”

“It wasn’t a lie,” Archibald said, “but it wasn’t the entire truth.”

Smith dismissed the thought with a flick of his hand.

“Why are you telling us all this now?” Alice asked, breaking her silence. “You’ve kept this to yourself for years.”

“I’m telling you this because we need their help. They helped us design the warships, and we’ve never raised arms against them. I need Mary to go back there and speak with the Council of Stone.”

Mary took a deep breath and squeezed her forehead. “They won’t listen to a woman who isn’t even part of their bloodline, Archibald. Those people are so disconnected from the modern world, they didn’t let women choose their own brides until a few years ago.”

“That’s why you should take Alice.”

Mary stared at Archibald and blinked. “So she can be married off?”

“What?” he said as he almost choked on the word. “No! Because of her blood, for the sake of the gods, not to marry her off. She has hair like the old blood of Ballern.”

“Fine, I grew up in Belldorn, but how do you know they won’t just kill us for showing up on their doorstep? They
blew up a mountain
, Archibald, just to stop that kind of thing from happening.”

“You risk our lives, sending us into Belldorn,” Smith said.

“You don’t have to go,” Archibald said. “Mary, Alice, and the royal guard are more than capable.”