The Mask And The Master (Mechanized Wizardry Book 2) (20 page)

“Spheres, don’t listen to that lazybones,” a woman shouted, shaking a wooden spoon at the baker.  “If he don’t want any meat, he don’t have to eat it.”

“More for us!”

Ariell grinned broadly as she unsheathed her hunting knife and pulled one of the brown-furred rabbits towards her.  The crowd went back to their jobs; supper was only a few hours away, and there were lots of hard-working bodies to feed.  Ariell looked around for a bowl to catch the blood and found one resting in a pair of small, water-wrinkled hands.

“Here,” Columbine said, holding the wooden bowl up for her sister.

“You got soap in it,” Ariell complained automatically as she took the bowl.  Columbine’s fingers still had traces of suds on them from the washing basin.  She wiped her hands diligently on her too-big brown apron as Ariell set the bowl on her table and held the rabbit over it by the feet.  A quick cut set the blood trickling into the bowl with a gentle liquid sound.  Columbine stayed next to her as she waited, rabbit held high.  Ariell’s face softened.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Look at my fingers,” Columbine said, holding her hands up.  They were soft and crinkly from an hour in the wash basin.

“Old lady hands,” Ariell said.  “I’ve been telling you to grow up fast, but I didn’t mean that.”

Columbine giggled.  “I’m the older sister now!”

“No way.”  She looked down, smiling, and shifted her weight so she pressed her body against Columbine’s little frame.  “I’m your older sister, and don’t you forget it.”

Columbine put an arm around Ariell’s waist.  “Okay,” she said.  Her sister’s hand was dripping and wet against her new tunic, but Ariell chose not to complain about it. 

“You’re coming right up on it, ladies and gentlemen,” Iggy’s voice echoed in Sir Mathias’ ears.  Iggy had been shadowing them far overhead in Ironsides as they’d made their way north from the logging camp.  They’d followed the Bantam upriver for a few hours until reaching one of its feeder creeks, a six-meter wide channel of water that their maps said would lead them to Two Forks.  The soil up here was full of gravel, and dotted with person-sized boulders among the thick dark trees. 
Rough place to start a farming town
, Sir Mathias thought. 
If it’s the life they want, then more power to ‘em.  But I don’t understand why some people insist on making things hard for themselves.

“Almost there,” Sir Mathias related to the rest of the team.  He was the point of contact between the Aerial on her platform and the ‘nauts on the ground. The Communicator built into his helmet was Recon-only equipment, too delicate and error-prone to be standard in the brawling suits that Cavaliers and Shock Troopers wore.  “Just as well,” Mathias had told Iggy suggestively at the start of their day’s travel.  “It means I get your sultry voice all to myself.”

“Ha!  I’m not one for whispering sweet nothings in the ear, I’ll have you know,” she’d said, a broad smile on her weathered face.  “If I like a man, I holler in his face, and just keep yelling until he punches me or beds me.”

“And, uh, how’s that strategy working out for you?”

“A lady never yells and tells, Sir Mathias,” she’d said with a wink.

They pressed through a line of trees, and just as Iggy had promised, the ‘nauts saw the pointed stakes of a stockade in the distance.  The creek that had guided them this far ran right through the settlement, breaking south towards them and also forking further east.  “Halt,” Sir Kelley called quietly.  The six ‘nauts stopped, thin trails of exhaust emanating from their suits.  They’d left Samanthi and Zig at the logging camp to pore over some surveillance charts the Army scouts had been keeping.  It seemed silly not to be splitting up further, but their orders had been very clear; until the Army reinforcements arrived, all missions were to be conducted as a single unit. 
Never know when a phalanx of masked Petronauts will leap
out at us, or a five-tongued demon from the olden days
, he thought wryly.

“Six ‘nauts at once will only intimidate them.  Dame Orinoco and I alone will make contact with the farmers,” Kelley was saying.  “Establish support positions around the stockade, and keep a retreat clear.”

“We’ll lay down covering fire if they deploy their plows against you,” Sir Xiaoden said, nodding soberly.

“Joke if you want.  My orders are to take this seriously, and that means yours are too.”  The senior ‘naut looked from face to face, his visor up and his flat eyes humorless.  Sir Xiaoden squirmed slightly under that look while the other ‘nauts stayed at impassive attention.

“I want a promise,” Kelley went on.  His gaze lingered on Sir Mathias as he swept across the other ‘nauts.  “If they put livestock on the battlefield, don’t be a hero,” he said earnestly.  “Just get out of there, every man and woman for themselves.”

The ‘nauts sputtered with laughter, surprised.  Kelley’s face twisted upwards in something very like a smile.  “Making contact now.  Nobody screw this cakewalk up.  Understood?”

“Understood,” the chorus came back.  Sir Mathias picked his jaw back up off the forest floor. 
T. Kelley Malcolm, Esquire, trying a lighter touch?  Have the Spheres come loose in the sky?

Dame Orinoco held up a hand to Sir Kelley, asking for a moment.  She clomped over to Sir Xiaoden and Dame Julie, pointing out a mound of earth around a hundred meters from the gate that would make good cover.  Dame Gaulda shook her arms out, gazing down at the settlement with the calculating eyes of someone who saw support positions, retreat paths, and fields of fire as clearly as if they’d been painted on the soil.  Kelley and Mathias stood an awkward distance from each other while Orinoco conferred with her squadmates.

“Good luck, Sir Kelley,” Mathias said with genuine sentiment as the moment crept on.

Kelley looked back at him, expressionless.  The lean man swung his black visor shut.  “Sir Mathias,” he acknowledged formally.  “Inform Ms. Roulande that we’re approaching the stockade.”

Sir Mathias nodded. As Sir Kelley joined Dame Orinico and started towards the farming hamlet, he flipped the transmission toggle on the side of his waist.  “Ms. Roulande, we’ve got two ‘nauts heading for the stockade; Kelley and Orinoco,” he whispered, flipping the switch back to ‘receive’ after he finished speaking.

“I don’t know who Ms. Roulande is, but Understood on the rest of it.  I’m getting eyes on Kelley and Orinoco now.”

He smirked inside his helmet.  The raspy rush of Ironsides’ engine was audible above the treetops, far overhead, like a duststorm whipping through a tunnel.  Iggy would drop out of the sky the instant he gave the word, ready to lay down sniper fire or just scare the daylights out of anyone who needed scaring.  Sir Mathias shook his head at the thought of all the concentrated power this little mixed squad represented. 
Let’s find this Golden Caravan, and show the world what it looks like when Delian Petronauts flex their muscles,
he thought, taking a point position as the four supporting ‘nauts crept stealthily towards Two Forks.

*****

Something had been putting Kipes’ teeth on edge all afternoon long.  There was a weird, scratchy noise in the air that the burly farmer just couldn’t place, like a wind ripping through dead leaves, combined with a sawmill in full operation.  The sound had been floating around for hours.  Now it was louder and closer than ever.

He pressed another trowelful of daub in between two logs in the stockade, right near the gate.  Kipes smeared the sticky mud up and down, patching the gaps that always seemed to be springing up.  He just couldn’t focus.  “You hear that noise?”  he called to a woman passing by towards the creek with a basin full of laundry.

“Buzzing like a nest of river flies?”

“So I’m not crazy!”

“It’s about fit to drive me crazy,” she said, resting the basin on her hip.  “What d’you suppose it is?”

“Can’t say I’ve got a…”

He trailed off as a new sound pricked his ears: a rhythmic, mechanical whine paired with a series of stomps.  Heavy footfalls, like a pregnant woman clomping around in wooden shoes.  He turned to look at the gate as the sounds approached it.  Wasn’t someone on lookout duty?

The woman next to him gasped as two figures walked their way right through the gate, uninvited, heads held high without a worry in the world.  It was like suits of armor come to life.

The shorter one was all in black, the size of a normal man, the glossy black of his visor making his face hard and cold.  The taller one had white piping around his shoulderplates and down the sides of his long, long legs.  He had a fierce sabre hanging from his belt, slung low like a man who drew that sword a lot and knew just how he liked it.  Embossed on their breastplates was the Haberstorm family crest.  Trails of gray steam rose out of their backs, and their bodies whined unnaturally as they moved.

“Spheres alive,” the woman breathed.  “It’s the Delians.”

Kipes looked around.  He could see half-a-dozen neighbors out and about between here and the village square, all of them intent on their business.  No one else had noticed the Petronauts yet.  Well, Two Forks was not about to be caught unprepared.

“Ms. Landry!”  Kipes bellowed, catching an old woman’s attention in the village square.  “You ring that bell!” 

Ms. Landry didn’t ask any questions.  She scampered right to the alarm bell a few meters away and started tugging at the rope with all her might.  The bell pealed out to the skies, and faces started appearing in the doorway of each home.  Dozens of eyes grew wide throughout the town as the farmers saw who had come to pay them a visit, standing just inside their gate.  And as the bell continued to shriek, an undercurrent of whispered instructions began between husbands and wives, siblings, parents and grandparents, and neighbors.  Word would spread to the security committee soon enough.

Kipes gritted his teeth and stepped forward.

“Hello, people of Two Forks,” the tall one was shouting.  It was a woman inside the suit, if the voice was any indication.  Made absolutely no difference to Kipes as he stomped forward.  “We’re Petronauts from the state of Delia—”

“We know who you are,” Kipes shouted.  Both metal faces whipped towards him.  He ignored a flash of fright and let it feed his anger instead.  “You go back where you came from.”

“That’s right!”

“Go back!”

The farmer was encouraged to hear a few voices backing him up.  There were more people standing in the paths now, staring defiance at the mechanical intruders.

The tall woman had her hands raised.  “No need to be alarmed.  We just want to talk to your leader.  Do you have an elder, or a council—”

“Nobody rules us,” Kipes said.

“Get ‘em out of here!”

“A little talking, and we’ll leave,” she said.  Her voice was suddenly huge, like six people.  It had to be a Petronaut trick.  The shouts trailed away at the unexpected display.

The black-armored one stepped forward, carrying the momentum.  “How about you stop ringing that bell?” he said in just as massive a voice, pointing a finger towards Landry.  The old woman froze and turned towards him, hands on the knotted rope, her mouth open with fear.

“Good,” the Petronaut said in an oily voice.  “Now we can actually listen to each other.”

“We’re honored to be here, and we apologize if arriving unannounced caused you any offense,” the tall one said, hands raised high.  She took a few steps forward.  Neither of them were looking at Kipes anymore.  He felt all his muscles tensing up as his heart raced in his chest.  “We mean you no harm.”

“Listen to her.”

“Talks like a damn stiff-ass.”

“Go home!”

“Good people of Two Forks,” she went on, frustration audible in her smooth voice.  “We are looking for information about the Golden Caravan…”

*****

Sir Mathias frowned.  Seconds after Dame Orinoco and Sir Kelley disappeared from view behind the stockade, a jangly bell started raising a ruckus somewhere in the center of town.  He shot a glance to Dame Julie, who looked back at him with a shrug.  Sir Xiaoden’s hand was resting on the hilt of his saber.  Dame Gaulda crouched low and advanced towards the fence, head darting this way and that like a nervous panther.  Mathias flicked his Communicator switch.

“Iggy, we’re hearing a bell.  What do you see?”

“Well, hot stuff, someone’s ringing a bell,” Iggy tossed back drily, but there was an undercurrent of concern in her voice.  “There’s an awful lot of movement in there; people coming out of their houses.  The whole damn town’s looking at them.”

“How are our people doing?”

“Bad angle.  Let me get closer.”

*****

The bell had stopped, and so had the preparations for dinner.  Columbine looked to the adults in the cooking house, but they were locked in urgent conversation, casting frequent glances at the two open doors on either side of the long building.  One of them pointed to a dusty ladder which led to a hatch in the gently sloping ceiling above.  “Ariell, what’s happening?”  she whispered, tugging at her sister’s tunic.

Ariell stepped away from the small circular window with an exasperated sigh.  “Can’t see anything.  Somebody’s at the gate, I guess, from the way everybody’s looking there.  Come on,” she said, grabbing her sister’s hand.  She dragged Columbine towards the doorway that opened into the village square.

“Wait!  Is it safe?”

“Won’t know until we’re there,” Ariell said with a quick, toothy smile.

Stumbling as she was yanked forward, Columbine swallowed hard as they crossed out into the midday sun. 
My apron.  I need to take my apron off
, she thought, pulling at her apron strings, as if that was the most important thing going on now.  Ariell let go of her hand as she peered around the corner of the cooking house.  Columbine kept fidgeting with the apron strings at her back as she stepped forward too, staying behind her big sister for protection.  She looked out at the gate, and what she saw hit her like a faceful of ice water.