The Mark of the Dragonfly (23 page)

“This is crazy,” Piper said. She heard her voice rising, the fear in it. “If I had magic powers, you think I’d waste them on machines? I’d use them for something important, like conjuring food whenever I wanted it—steak dinners, caramel apples, mushroom soup.”

“Caramel and mushroom?” Gee raised an eyebrow.

“Not all at once, but yeah, something like that.” Piper thumped her fist against the metal wall in frustration. She had to make them understand they had it wrong. Her, have magic powers? It was impossible. “You’re just making excuses because the 401’s traps didn’t work for once, and a couple of girls outsmarted you.”

“Things like this have happened to you before, haven’t they?” Gee’s voice was surprisingly gentle considering she’d just insulted him again. “Machines reacting in just the way you want them to?”

Piper thought of the music box she’d fixed for Micah, how he’d said she was weird with machines.
“You’re like a healer with them.”
Her hand went instinctively to the
watch around her neck. The second hand ticked away steadily, the mechanism that ever since she’d fixed it had kept perfect time.

Only for her.

“A power like this is a good thing,” Gee pressed. “It’s helped you survive. It’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Is that so?” Piper nodded at the black ball in Trimble’s hand. “What about the people who call him a monster for what he can do? That’s all it takes, you know. They find something about you that they don’t like, something different, or some weakness—maybe you’re poor, you’re a scrapper, you’ll work any job at a factory even if it kills you because you’re desperate, desperate like a girl who’s alone and running from someone with enough money to buy her like so many pounds of meat—and they take advantage.
They take everything from you!
”

Chest heaving, Piper forced her fists to unclench. She’d tried to hold it back, but the storm inside her was too strong. Didn’t she have enough to be afraid of without adding some freakish magical talent? She looked at the fireman and the chamelin. Why were they saying this?

The tiny space went silent, and Gee looked down. Trimble bit his lip, but then he said, “I’m sorry. It’s just that, when I finally accepted that I had this talent, even though it made me different, I was happier. We thought you might feel the same way. If you change your mind and want to know for sure, we can test you.” Trimble
tapped his foot lightly on the pressure plate but didn’t put his weight on it. “We’ll be stopping for a supply drop in Phirimor,” he offered. “All we have to do is re-create the conditions of that night, see if you can do the same trick twice.”

Piper couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Did you listen to anything I just said? You think I’m going to stand in front of the fire vent again, maybe whistle a pretty tune while I wait for it to turn me crispy? No, thank you.” She pushed past Trimble to get to the door. “You two are crazy.”

“We’d shut it down before it actually fired,” Trimble said. “You wouldn’t be—”

Gee put a hand on his shoulder. “No, she’s right,” he said. “This wasn’t a good idea. We’re sorry—” He stopped, pressed his hands to his chest, and coughed hard enough to shake his entire body. Pain twisted his face.

Piper took a step toward him and froze. Blood coated Gee’s lower lip. Before she could speak, the chamelin drew a wheezing breath, and his eyes rolled back in his head.

He collapsed in the middle of the vestibule.

Trimble shouted for the guards. Two of them came to help carry Gee to his room. Heart pounding, Piper followed close behind.

They took him to the last car on the train. Maps of Solace covered the walls of Gee’s room, the various train routes marked off in red ink. The rest of the room consisted of a berth, a washstand, and a small table, where the remnants of Gee’s breakfast sat cooling on a plate. The smell of fried eggs lingered in the air.

Piper moved to a corner to stay out of the way while Trimble and the guards got Gee into bed just as another fit of coughing overtook him. They had to hold on to his shoulders to keep him from falling out of the bed until it passed, and when they stepped away, Piper saw that blood flecked the white sheets tucked under Gee’s chin.

“He needs a healer,” Piper said tightly. “The slavers’ dust is tearing up his lungs.”

“I’m the train’s healer,” Trimble said, “but there’s not much I can do for this.” He took a vial of yellow liquid from his belt and pulled out the stopper. The smell of burnt peanuts mingled with the fried egg. “Chamelins may look like humans on the outside, but inside they’re a whole lot different. If we had a chamelin healer, that’d be a good start, but we don’t.” He held the vial to Gee’s lips and forced the rim into his mouth. “Drink,” he said, leaning close to Gee’s ear. “Drink. I know you can hear me. Don’t be stubborn.”

He lifted the vial, and Gee swallowed the thick yellow liquid. Halfway through, he coughed again, spraying yellow liquid down his chin. Trimble cursed and wiped Gee’s mouth with his sleeve.

“Will that cure him?” Piper asked anxiously.

“It’ll ease the cough, but the damage is already done,” Trimble said. Piper noted the tension in the fireman’s body, his lips pressed into a hard line. “You can go,” he told the guards. “Give us some space.”

The guards filed out of the room, and Trimble took the single chair from the table and put it next to Gee’s bed, indicating that Piper should sit. Piper came forward and perched on the edge of the chair. Gee’s face was pale, and though he wasn’t coughing now, every breath he took was a heavy, wheezing labor.

“Is he going to die?” Piper didn’t want to ask it, was terrified of the answer, but she had to know.

“He isn’t breathing well at all,” Trimble said. His blue eyes were huge. “I can’t … I didn’t realize he was this bad off. He never said …” In a sudden, violent motion, he turned and kicked the table leg. Gee’s plate and silverware rattled; his glass overturned and shattered on the floor. Piper stared at the broken pieces, the little drops of juice still clinging to them. “Can you stay with him for a few minutes?” Trimble said, his voice unsteady. “I need to get Jeyne.”

“I’ll stay,” Piper said.

“Thank you.” Trimble swept out of the room without another word.

Alone, Piper bent, picked up the broken pieces of Gee’s glass, and placed them on the table. The juice drops made her fingers sticky. When she turned back to the bed, she noticed Gee’s hand lay open near the edge of the blanket. Tentatively, Piper reached out and laid her palm across his. Gee’s hand was warm, rough with callouses and stained by coal dust, but it fit comfortably into hers. Blood rushed into Piper’s cheeks. Would Gee wake up when he felt the touch? But his fingers stayed slack, and he gave no sign that he was even aware she was there. Piper sat, holding his hand, listening to the sound of his breathing, as if she could keep his chest rising and falling by sheer force of will.

The silence became unbearable. Piper cleared her
throat. “You called me stubborn,” she said to Gee, “but you know, you’re just as bad as I am. Why didn’t you tell anyone how sick you are? You could have at least told Trimble, even if you didn’t want to say it to me.” She swallowed. “I mean, of course you wouldn’t confide in me; you barely know me. We’re not friends or anything. Not that I wouldn’t
want
to be …” She was babbling. “Look, I know I’m a nuisance, that it’s my fault you’re sick, but we’re going to fix it. Somehow, we’ll make you better.”

Piper’s mind was spinning. Just how was she going to do that? She was the girl who worked miracles with machines. She’d never met one she couldn’t fix. What had Trimble called her? A synergist. But people—like Micah—she couldn’t do anything for people. Piper clenched her other fist in frustration. Healing machines—what was that kind of magic worth? Gee needed someone who knew about chamelin anatomy, someone who could tell what the dust was doing to him inside.

The hairs on the back of Piper’s neck stood up. Anatomy, science, nature—a walking encyclopedia, that was what she needed.

Quivering with excitement and the beginnings of hope, Piper gently let go of Gee’s hand and jumped out of her chair. “I’m going to leave you for a minute,” she told him, “but I’ll be back as fast as I can, I promise. I’m bringing reinforcements.”

When Piper returned to Gee’s room with Anna in tow, Trimble and Jeyne were already there. The engineer shot Piper a severe glance. “Why did you leave him? Trimble told you to stay here.”

“I went to get Anna,” Piper said, trying not to flinch under the older woman’s glare. “I think she can help.”

Jeyne and Trimble exchanged disbelieving glances. “More likely you’ll both be in the way,” Jeyne said. She looked down at Gee, and the lines in her face deepened. “But since it looks like it’s time for miracles, what did you have in mind?”

“A small miracle, that’s all.” Piper turned to Anna. The girl clutched a stack of books against her chest, but her gaze was fixed on Gee and the blood speckling his blanket. “Anna, look at me,” Piper said. “I need you to tap that limitless brain of yours and find some way to cure Gee.”

Anna shook her head helplessly. “I don’t know anything about chamelin anatomy. Human anatomy, yes, as well as small mammals like squirrels, raccoons, pitikas, voles, moskweps—and also reptiles, amphibians, several insects and arachnids—”

“Good,” Piper interrupted. “That’s good. You know a lot about a lot of critters. Maybe one of them is similar to a chamelin, close enough that what clears one set of
lungs will clear the other. There, that’s my theory, now what can you do with it?”

“That’s … possible,” Anna conceded, “even logical, but it’s not tested. I’d have to extrapolate, make a guess based on a set of conditions not fully known.”

“
Try
, Anna—that’s all I’m asking,” Piper said.

“All right.” Anna sat on the floor and spread the books out in front of her. She selected one volume,
A Catalog of Mountainous Regions and Native Inhabitants
, and opened it. “Chamelins are mountain dwellers, so the environment’s right. It’s a start.” She bent her head to read.

“What can we do?” Trimble asked Piper.

Piper thought for a minute. “That medicine you gave Gee—where did it come from? And do you have anything else like it?”

“I made it,” Trimble said. “I can mix medicines and make poultices, stitch wounds, whatever you need.”

“If Anna comes up with a treatment, can you make it?”

Trimble nodded. “Shouldn’t be a problem, unless she comes up with some rare ingredient I’ve never heard of.”

“Mmmm,” Anna said, her nose buried in the book. “Not likely. None of these entries is very detailed. That could be a problem—understanding simple physiology might not be enough to treat a chamelin.”

“Do the best you can,” Jeyne said. She glanced at
Trimble. “I’ll be up front. Let me know if his condition changes, better or worse, you understand?”

The fireman nodded. Jeyne touched Gee’s shoulder briefly, but he didn’t move. His eyes were closed, and all his strength seemed focused on breathing. Jeyne leaned over and whispered something to Gee that Piper didn’t hear. Then she turned and left the car.

When she was gone, Piper and Trimble sat cross-legged on the floor next to Anna. They watched her read for several minutes in silence. Impatience welled in Piper. She tapped her fingers absently against the floor.

Anna glanced up from her book, shooting Piper a distressed look. “Piper, the noise. I can’t concentrate.”

“Sorry.” Piper buried her hands in her lap. “Have you found anything?”

Anna looked up again. “I’ve been searching for approximately three and a half minutes,” she said, flustered. “That’s hardly enough time to consult the table of contents, let alone cross-reference what little I know of Gee’s physiology with that of potential mammal counterparts and factor in his symptoms with—”

“Fine, fine, I just thought if you had a lead, you could tell us—”

“I’m trying, but—”

“Make this excruciating waiting a little easier—”

“Piper, some theories take
years
to formulate and properly test!”

“Obviously, we don’t have years!”