Tinker's Justice (22 page)

“I’ve been reading lately,” Rynn replied. She pointed to a stack of books by her bedside, shadowed in the moonlight. “Histories of generals and kings. Korr didn’t have what I was looking for, so these are all Telluraki. I wish I could read any of the Veydran languages; it sounds like they might be the most warlike. But they all seem to agree that killing people ‘just in case’ is good judgment. You have to know who your friends and enemies are. A known enemy can be a tool, but a questionable ally is dangerous. It cost Prince Artanchis in the Tea Wars, when he allied with Krangan pirates. King Gibani of Steth allied with the early Kheshi Empire against Takalish invasions, and there’s no Steth anymore. What if I try to play Veydran politics in a Korrish rebellion, and end up costing us everything?”

“There’s another option, even if you don’t trust him,” said Sosha.

“What’s that?”

“You can just sneak in while he’s asleep, take back the books, and never speak to him again.”

For some reason that felt wrong. Some strategist in her told Rynn that it was worse to leave an ally questioning than to kill him as a traitor. She swallowed.
When did I start thinking it was all right to kill humans?
As a rule, Korrish humans did not kill one another. They fought, but it was the stuff of tavern fisticuffs and disagreements over crashball loyalties. There was always the underlying belief that harming a human helped a kuduk. All but the most ardent shavers thought that way.

It was the world-ripper. She had mixed the worlds, perhaps mixed them too much. Tellurak pitted humans against humans throughout history. Veydrus seemed little more than an arena peopled with armies and sorcerers, goblins and dragons. The creatures from there fought everything they could find. The Korrish thing to do—the human thing to do—was to take Sosha’s advice. If she couldn’t admit to the man’s face that she had killed the twin of Danilaesis Solaran, she could at least spare the man’s life in cutting him off from the rebellion.

“I’ll sleep on it,” Rynn said. “There’s no hurry, if he isn’t on to us. If he is … there’s still two days until the next book is due. We have until then to decide. Madlin’s got a big day ahead.”

Sosha’s smile twitched into place and vanished just as quickly. “Have you got a plan worked out yet?”

“Anzik’s working on it.”

Morning in the heart of Korr’s moon was an arbitrary thing. On the world spinning below, it was always the break of dawn somewhere. For Cadmus Errol, it began when a clock at his bedside, set to Eversall time, struck 5:30 and set off a bell. Throughout the facility, every room had a clock that was within a second of matching the time Cadmus had decided for them. And so it was no surprise to Jamile to hear the bell through the door just before she knocked, and entered without waiting for a reply.

Cadmus stretched and twisted, his joints crackling as he threw off the covers and fumbled at the bedside table for his spectacles. A yawn preceded the first words he spoke on the day. “Where’d you run off to? Conspiring with Rynn again?”

“Sosha was,” Jamile replied. She handed him a vial of clear liquid. “Here. This is from the latest book.”

The light from the hall left the vial too much a mystery. Cadmus flipped a switch on the wall and a spark light flickered on. Holding the vial at eye level, he sloshed the contents around inside. “What’s it do?”

“It reverses aging,” Jamile replied, as matter-of-factly as if she had told him it was a salve for rashes.

“You don’t say,” Cadmus replied, continuing his examination. The only signs of his having just awakened were his rumpled clothing and wild hair. “Who concocted it?”

“Harwick,” Jamile replied. “He’s taken it himself, and he’s already looking years younger.”

Cadmus smirked. “I see. And you think it’s worth the risk?”

“He gave a vial of it to Rynn, but that’s not this one. I used the world-ripper and swapped it for an identical one in Harwick’s desk. Rynn asked me to check it and make sure it’s safe; I figured seeing how Harwick reacts to it in the morning will be as good a test as I can think of.”

“Good girl. I’ll get you thinking like a tinker yet.”

“Rynn’s also got a dilemma on her hands,” Jamile said. “Harwick let slip that he’s a Solaran.”

“A what?” Cadmus asked with a squint.

“Dan’s twin was a Solaran. They’re sorcerers from Veydrus—enemies of Anzik’s people.”

“Wonderful,” Cadmus muttered. “Does she have any thoughts on a replacement translator?”

Jamile threw up her hands. “You’re just like her!” She looked around suddenly with wide eyes, then lowered her voice. “You can’t just kill people because they might be enemies possibly maybe. You’re helping save his people, and he wants to help us.”

“And he made this …” Cadmus held up the vial to the light.

“And gave it to you freely.”

Cadmus tilted to the side until a crackling sound emanated from his lower back. “I wouldn’t mind forgetting what it’s like to wake up every morning like a kinked chain. You ever wonder what I was like as a young man?”

Jamile smiled and glanced away. “Maybe. But you’d still be you. Just with a bit more vigor.”

“And hair. I was blond once, you know. Aside from my build, folks would have taken me for full-blooded southern Kheshi.”

“I’d like to see that.”

Cadmus popped the stopper and raised the vial. “To Eziel, or whoever the bloody bolts wrote those books.” He downed the contents.

Jamile waited in silence for a few moments as Cadmus sat with a bemused expression. “Anything yet?” he asked.

Jamile furrowed her brow and studied him. Taking him by the chin, she looked over the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and the edge of his hairline. “Nothing yet, but we should give it some time.” She closed the door behind her. “Greuder’s in the kitchen, but it’ll be a while before anyone else is up. We should stay here and wait to make sure it’s working.”

“I’ll be able to go on raids,” Cadmus mused. “I won’t need to waste six hours a night sleeping.”

“I had more selfish reasons in mind,” Jamile said. She wrapped her arms around him and they toppled to the sheets.

Chapter 17

“Who the blazes wrote these daft books?” – Lord Dunston Harwick

In the cozy confines of his bedroom above the workshop he had worked in for years, K’k’rt packed away his belongings and said a quiet goodbye. For better or worse, Madlin had some plan tinkered together, and she was either going to take him with her, or he would be killed by Fr’n’ta’gur. K’k’rt snorted. Many of his fellow goblins would have found it a great honor to be devoured by their god. Most traitors and malcontents would be killed and thrown to the animals as feed. Fr’n’ta’gur was almost certain to kill K’k’rt himself, but somehow the old goblin could not bring himself to look forward to the prospect.

K’k’rt had not grown up among Fr’n’ta’gur’s goblins. He had served another dragon, Ni’hash’tk, until her demise, and had lived among humans for a time. Just when he had become so different from his kin, he could not say, but he now valued his life more highly than his fellows seemed to. And there was so little left of it.

Just when K’k’rt thought he had every ache and malady of age his body could handle, it found yet another place to vex and torment him. For ten years, his back had ached each morning upon waking; for the last three it had never gone away. For five years, his fingers had pained him with their every movement. For the last two years, his spectacles had been the only thing keeping him from walking into walls, and even with them he could hardly read. And yet, for all that he was not ready to die, by dragon or otherwise.

A ripple in the aether caught K’k’rt’s attention just in time for him to turn and face the world-hole as it opened.
Finally, they bring me word of the plan
. He had worried that he would be caught in the avalanche Madlin was no doubt about to unleash, struggling to keep up without knowing what was coming next. Secretly, he worried that he was not meant to survive with her.

But the world-hole revealed not Rynn, but Anzik Fehr, and Rynn’s dark-skinned friend, who worked the controls. Anzik stood like his father, imperious and cold—though he lacked the edge of malice that Jinzan Fehr wielded like a dagger. The young sorcerer stepped through without preamble, and the world-hole closed behind him. It was a sound precaution, for as long as it remained open, it was bound to draw attention.

“I need to know about the collar Madlin wears,” Anzik said.

“Welcome, Master Fehr,” K’k’rt replied, injecting a greeting into the proceedings.

“The collar.”

K’k’rt sighed and settled into a thick-padded chair. “I made it, you know.”

“Then you should know how to remove it safely,” Anzik reasoned. The human’s head did not angle down to K’k’rt, the eyes merely glanced lower. It was as if the motion of the head was deemed unnecessary.

“Safely? There is no unsafe. There is no trick to it at all. Yes, the chains to the guards’ bracers are unfortunate, but Fr’n’ta’gur insisted on some method of control over her. But merely scratching out a single rune on the collar itself will render the confining effect null. I wanted her escape to be as easy as possible, when the time came.”

“So you could have released her at any time?” Anzik asked.

“Release her?” K’k’rt asked with a chuckle. “She didn’t want to escape. Of course she hates it here, but she values the daily shipment of weapons for her rebels more than she values her freedom. She has the world-ripper, and she’s even cleverer than she’s let on. She could have gotten out of here any time she wanted.”

“She bargained with me for her escape,” Anzik said. “She wanted to be free of the runes that prevent her from passing through a world-hole. I think you’ve overestimated her.”

“Bargained, eh?” K’k’rt asked. “What did you get in return?”

“Airships in Korrish fashion.”

“Already delivered?”

“Yes,” Anzik replied with a hint of a frown.

“Well, there you have it. She wanted your help, but not in escaping. You killed the Kadrin sorcerer for her, and she’s worried that you might turn on her as well, so she tightened your alliance. You are too young for politics, it seems.” K’k’rt chuckled. He liked being older than humans. “So when is Madlin planning her escape?”

“She has told me of no escape plan,” Anzik replied.

K’k’rt stroked his chin. “Interesting. I had assumed her audience with Fr’n’ta’gur to fix the volcanic instability in Raynesdark was her deadline. There is no way that girl is going to solve a problem of that magnitude in just a few days. The dragon was a fool to think she could. You sure she hasn’t left clues as to her plan or her time table?”

“Rynn isn’t that subtle.”

K’k’rt nodded. “Can you do me a favor?”

Anzik stared down at him, but said nothing.

“Can you take that pack, and the one on the floor by the bed, and bring them with you?” K’k’rt asked. “Whether Madlin chooses to honor our agreement or not, I don’t think I’ll be needing them
here
anymore.”

Anzik nodded, then made a sign in the air with his fingers. The world-hole opened behind him. With a gesture, the two packs with most of K’k’rt’s personal effects floated through to Korr. K’k’rt raised a hand and waved to the dark-skinned girl running the machine. She smiled and waved back just before she pulled the switch to shut the hole and leave K’k’rt alone in his bedroom.

There were things left that he had not yet packed. It seemed so pointless now. He lay back in the chair and fell asleep.

Madlin checked and rechecked her calculations. Across the page, diagrams and notations described in painstaking detail the method and means of venting and capping the volcanic conduit near Raynesdark. There was a fair to middling chance that some goblin would take the time to examine the plans in detail before she was allowed to present them to Fr’n’ta’gur, and she had to make sure they were believable.

Of course, Madlin held no illusion that the complicated series of piping and pressure vessels would do the least bit to stop the guts of Veydrus from vomiting forth and incinerating every goblin within miles. She rather fancied the idea that they would try. The whole project was thought out well enough that it could be used by the precocious creatures as a plan of action. She had even taught them enough that there was a chance they could build most of the components. With their primitive metal casting and their downright savage machining, she doubted they could build a residential steam heater safe enough that she’d stand anywhere near it.

But given the chance that the plans would come under scrutiny, Madlin double-checked her arithmetic. One of the key components of any lie was that it was consistent with itself. She could not recall who taught her that tidbit—lying was not on the list of courses for any tutor she’d ever had—but it had stuck with her.

The numbers swam before her eyes after hours of staring. It came as a relief when a knock at the door told Madlin that her escort had arrived. The jangle of chains and a tug at her neck was a reminder of the collar she was soon to be rid of. Whether her escape worked or the dragon killed her, she would not sleep with cold steel around her neck one night longer.

When her guards opened the door, she was surprised to find K’k’rt in the company of four priests. “Time to go,” he said. There was a melancholy in his voice that carried a sense of dread.

He thinks he’s bringing me to my death.
Madlin had assumed that there was a strong possibility that the plans for Raynesdark’s protection were the last thing the dragon felt he needed from her. She was a toy to him, a speculative investment that had proven more an annoyance than a profit. Or perhaps the dragon just didn’t like the idea of having a human around. Since she didn’t intend to hang around long enough to ask the question, Madlin accepted that she would never know for certain. That K’k’rt believed her lifespan measured only minutes long meant that he shared her trepidation.

“I get an honor guard today?” Madlin asked, gathering up the sheets of paper that described her plan.

“The chief geologist, his assistants, and the interim governor for Raynesdark will all be in attendance,” K’k’rt said. “Of course, your shipment of weapons is ready as well.”

The bloody dragon wants my father to
watch
me get killed. Wonderful.
Of course, it was convenient as well. The dragon’s spite would make the presence of a second world-hole that much less obvious. Rynn would be able to sneak her out as soon as Anzik destroyed the collar. The Megrenn sorcerer had assured Jamile that it would be an easy task for him. As she walked down the tunnel to the dragon’s lair, Madlin wondered how many viewframes were following her. She resisted an urge to turn around and smile to them.

A nervous trembling welled inside Madlin as she entered the cavern of Fr’n’ta’gur. It was already lit, and there were goblins around the periphery. No doubt they were the officials and dignitaries that K’k’rt had mentioned. Madlin’s guards brought her to the edge of the precipice overlooking the dragon’s treasure hoard. The sea of gold coins disappeared into the gloom at the back end of the cavern, where Fr’n’ta’gur’s breathing hissed like a bellows. The only point of solace in the room was the neat pile of crates holding her promised weapons.

K’k’rt announced her, calling into the darkness in his own language. She only made out the goblin version of her name: Md’ln.

Fr’n’ta’gur rumbled a response, his voice an earthquake. Coins sloshed and jingled as the great dragon approached. The chains at Madlin’s neck rattled as her guards cowered and bowed. Bile rose in Madlin’s throat, but she fought it down, gritting her teeth as she watched the reptilian head emerge from the darkness.

“Madlin Errol of Korr,” Fr’n’ta’gur greeted her. “You have been given three days to show me the way your world has stopped the great volcano. Because of my infinite generosity, you had two days longer than you should have needed. Now, you will prove your worth and show the plan that will allow me to keep my new city.”

Madlin realized that she had crushed the pages in a fist. She knelt and began smoothing the crumpled papers on the floor, turning each of them to face the dragon. Looking up at the maw looming over her, Madlin tried to slow her quickening breath before panic swept her away.
Not long now…

What she had expected the dragon to do with the plan, Madlin couldn’t say for certain. She had considered that she might have been required to recite the findings and explain the plan, or that one of the geologists might have been called forth to examine Madlin’s work. One eventuality that she had not anticipated was that Fr’n’ta’gur would peer down and read the documents himself, but that was precisely what it appeared he was doing. The slit in his reptilian eye narrowed on the side closest to Madlin and twitched back and forth. Even with her spectacles on, Madlin would never have been able to read her scrawled handwriting from fifty feet up, let alone in the dim lighting of the dragon’s lair.

Fr’n’ta’gur grumbled something and one of the goblins from the side of the chamber scurried over and scooped up the plans. “It shall be done as you suggest, Madlin Errol of Korr.”

Madlin gaped up at the dragon.
It worked.
Once the dragon began his examination, Madlin was sure the creature would see her sham for what it was. Instead, she might have spared her own life. “Thank you, Mighty One. May my people have today’s delivery now?”

“Of course,” Fr’n’ta’gur said. Madlin thought she heard a hint of amusement, a suppressed chuckle, in that monstrous voice. “You may signal them. They are watching.” The dragon’s lips parted in a grin of obsidian-black swords.

Madlin held up a hand and flashed a series of numbers: three, three, two, four.