“My what?”
“That mechanical globe you stole from the crashed skyship. It contains a lot of Ward’s existing technology that I need to repurpose. Otherwise, this’ll take years.”
Felgor considered that. “For a small daily fee, I will rent it to you.”
Jolan frowned. “How much?”
“Fifty gold pieces per day.”
“I don’t have any gold. Nobody does.”
“I will of course accept a loan structure with ten percent interest per day, compounding of course.”
Jolan’s jaw dropped. “But in just a few days that will amount to—”
“We’ll take the loan,” said Ashlyn. “Just give him the astrolabe and add it to my tab, Felgor.”
“Deal.”
“I’m more interested in how the queen plans on killing three war acolytes by her lonesome,” Oromir said. “Seems awfully ambitious.”
“A week ago, it would have been.” Ashlyn motioned to the new, thick band set above her elbow, which had three metal pins drilled into it. “But the salvage from the acolyte in the skyship is far more stable than my older bands. I can balance ten lodestones in my system now. Three acolytes. Ten lodestones. I like my chances.”
“If you’re so confident, how about you just kill everyone while we sit back in camp eating extra rations?” Oromir asked.
“It takes a massive amount of energy to use the lodestones, and their range is limited,” said Ashlyn. “I can handle three war acolytes inside a warren. Two scores of Wormwrot out in the open are problematic.”
Oromir stood up. “I’ll have no part of this.”
“You volunteered to walk into a nest of dragons, but won’t set a simple ambush?” Bershad asked.
“I did that because we needed the food. This isn’t simple. It’s another gamble, just like Fallon’s Roost. It was my men who got chewed up and killed by the sorcery of our queen then, and it’s my men who’ve been torn apart by grayskins for the last year. Not this time. I said I’ll have no fucking part, Bershad.”
Oromir stormed off.
Willem cleared his throat. “Being honest, if we’re gonna have a hope of mapping these pairings before the end of summer, I’m gonna need every spare warden out in the jungle, anyway. I don’t know how many men you need to deal with the Wormwrot escort, but—”
Bershad waved him off. “It’s fine. You can take all the Jaguars. I only need Simeon and ten good men from Naga Rock to get this done.”
“You sound pretty confident.”
“That’s because I know the codes Wormwrot uses to rank the size of dragon warrens,” Bershad said. “We’ll make a map that has a large one marked on it. That’ll ensure the harvest acolyte shows up in a timely fashion.”
Bershad decided not to mention that marking a large warren would mean that Vallen Vergun would join the escort. No reason to cause a panic.
“Only tricky part is getting a forged map in front of Osyrus Ward.” Bershad turned to Felgor. “How about it, you fucking thief? Up for one more trip to Floodhaven?”
Felgor’s eyes narrowed. “First you take my collector’s items, now you want to send me back behind enemy lines. Is this what I am hearing?”
“We’ll add another hundred thousand gold to your tab.”
Felgor smiled. “I’ll need a haircut. I’ll need my officer’s uniform cleaned. And by the ass-gears of Aeternita, I will need someone to eliminate this rash from my neck.” Felgor scratched at his infected skin. “Meet these requirements, and you can consider the job done.”
Bershad laughed. “I’ll handle the clothes. Jolan, can you handle the rash?”
The kid peered down at the infected skin. “Yeah. No problem.”
“One last thing,” Felgor said.
“Clothes, gold, and medical treatment isn’t enough?” Bershad asked.
“I need Cabbage. That’s the only way my officer bit carries water.”
“Fine with me,” said Simeon. “The earless bastard isn’t any good in a proper fight anyway.”
“It’s settled, then,” said Bershad.
“Not quite,” Kerrigan said. “How are you going to kill forty Wormwrot with ten men from Naga Rock?”
“Vash was right. I’m gonna need to carve myself a new mask after all.”
29
CABBAGE
Village of Dampmire
Cabbage had agreed to return to Floodhaven on the condition that they were allowed to take a donkey loaded with extra rations with them. Kerrigan had given him the side eye, but agreed.
Once they were on the road, Cabbage convinced Felgor to divert through Dampmire.
“Oh, I see why you wanted the extra grub,” Felgor said when he saw Cabbage messing with his new ears on the way through the village. “You dipped some fingers into a local honeypot on our last turn here.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Oh, not a fingers man? You just go right in with the tongue, or what?”
Cabbage glared at Felgor. There was no point in attempting to improve the thief’s manners. The best you could do was distract him.
“How do my ears look?”
“Fantastic.”
Cabbage couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.
Jovita had said that she didn’t care about his missing ears. And Cabbage believed her, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care about them.
“Right. I’m going to give her the donkey and food. Wait for me somewhere that you won’t be tempted to steal anything. These people don’t have much.”
“Sure, sure. I’ll find a quiet nook and work on my dice throws or something.”
Cabbage headed down the narrow wooden causeway. When he reached Jovita’s hut, he hesitated, suddenly very nervous. But the donkey crapped twice while Cabbage was stalling, and the smell got him moving again. He took one last a deep breath, and knocked.
“Cabbage?” Jovita asked after she opened the door. “What are you doing here?”
He motioned to the donkey. “Brought you a present.”
* * *
Cabbage brought all the supplies inside and laid them out ono the kitchen table. Rice, beans, and plenty of salted pork.
Jovita was quiet for a long time, looking at it all.
“I don’t know what to say, Cabbage. This is … too generous.” She gave him a sly look. “You trying to earn a spot in my bed with all this?”
“No! I just … wanted you to have it is all.”
“And you walked all the way back to Dampmire to give it to me?”
“It’s on the way to Floodhaven. Me and Felgor are heading back.”
“What for?”
“Uh, it’s kind of a secret.”
“A secret, is it?”
Cabbage nodded gravely. Before he could say anything else, the donkey pushed his head through the window of Jovita’s hut. He was munching on something from her garden.
“I was thinking you could have the donkey, too, if you think he and your dog will get along. We can’t take him to Floodhaven with us.”
Jovita rubbed his muzzle. “What’s his name?”
“Well, I’m not sure what his dragonslayer called him, but I’ve been calling him Rat Stomper, on account of him crushing a rat the first day we set off with him.”
“That’s a terrible name!” Jovita said, but she smiled while she said it. She rubbed his muzzle a little longer. “Think I’ll call you Mustard. It’s been ages since I’ve had some. He’ll be my little reminder of better times.”
“You like mustard?”
“Love it. But our fields got salted by the skyships last year.”
“Sorry,” Cabbage said, making a note to look for some fancy Balarian mustard while they were in Floodhaven.
“Please,” said Jovita. “Making do without mustard isn’t a big deal in the grand scheme.”
“I guess not.” Cabbage looked down at his boots. “Guess giving one pretty villager some food doesn’t do much good in the grand scheme, either.”
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He kept his eyes fixed on his boots for another moment. When he worked up the courage to look at Jovita, she was smiling.
“Oh, Cabbage. You’re kinda sweet.”
He laughed. “Don’t think anyone’s ever accused me of that.”
He paused. Hesitated.
“Can I ask you something, Jovita?”
“Sure.”
“If we manage to end this war, and I somehow manage to survive it, would you be open to maybe seeing me more often? I like it here, in Dampmire. And … I like you.”
“You barely know me.”
“That’s true, I won’t argue.” He looked down at his feet again. “I guess what I’m saying is that I’d be open to changing that, if you were, too. And you can answer honest. I might be a pirate, but I’m not a man who thinks he’s owed anything from a woman she doesn’t want to give.”
Jovita seemed to think that over really carefully. “What did you do before you were a pirate?”
“I was apprenticed to a watchmaker in Clockwork City,” Cabbage said.
“Did you enjoy the work?”
Cabbage thought about that. “The man I trained under was not a kind person. He was harsh with mistakes, and cold to me, even if I did well. But I liked the way so many disparate pieces could be fit together and make something anew. Something with a purpose. In Balaria, telling time is treated with great respect.” He hesitated. “Sometimes it reminds me of the Dainwood army. There’s the Jaguars, but also us from up on Ghost Moth Island, and Queen Ashlyn with all her sorcery. The Flawless Bershad with … whatever goes on beneath his skin. And Simeon, with the dragonscales around his. We’re all different gears and pieces, and together we make up a larger whole.” He paused to take a breath. He’d been talking so fast that he hadn’t been breathing right. “Sorry, that was a long answer.”
“I liked it.”
“Do you like … uh.” Cabbage stopped, realizing he didn’t know Jovita’s trade.
“I’m a weaver,” she said, helping him along.
“Ah. Right.” He hesitated. “Do you like it?”
“Not really,” she admitted. “The work’s routine, and useful. But there’s not much joy in it.”
“Is there something else you would have rather been?”
She thought about that.
“When I was a girl, I wanted to be a traveling merchant. I always loved when they came through Dampmire with stories of far-off places. Seeing something new every day, I would like that, I think.”
“Me too,” Cabbage said softly.
He didn’t know what else to say, or what to do. Suddenly he was afraid that Jovita wanted him to leave, or that he never should have come here to begin with. But then Jovita took his hand and squeezed it.
“See? Now we know each other, Cabbage. A little, anyway. That’s a good thing.”
She kissed him on the cheek. Held her lips there for what felt like a very long time. The sensation filled Cabbage with a mixture of panic and pleasure that he hadn’t felt for a decade or more. Maybe not ever.
Cabbage smiled the whole way to Floodhaven.
30
GARRET
The Soul Sea, Almiran Coast
After Vera spared Garwin’s soldiers, they all went to the nearest tavern to drink off the experience. Garret followed them, and poisoned them all. He did not believe in half measures
When that was done, he went to see about a ride back to Almira.
The captain of the Lucky Second—which was stationed in the Bay of Broken Clocks—wasn’t thrilled by the idea of a stranger melting out of the Burz-al-dun crowds and requesting immediate passage to Floodhaven, but the ship’s first mate recognized Garret and after a few hurried whispers back and forth, he was given a private cabin, a hot meal of steamed clams and buttered potatoes, and a jug of crisp, Ghalamarian wine.
The ship crossed the Soul Sea at a full burn.
Garret was met at the skyship port by Engineer Nebbin.
“Hangman,” said Nebbin, arms folded behind his back like an asshole. “Master Ward requests your immediate presence.”
“Yeah, I expected that he would,” said Garret. “Lead the way.”
* * *
Osyrus Ward was in a workshop on the forty-third level of the King’s Tower. Two acolytes were with him.
Ward was operating on his mechanical spider, whose legs were crumpled together in a surprisingly accurate mimicry of an actual dead spider. Both of Ward’s arms were covered to the elbows in green ichor.
Garret had become used to horrific displays like this in the workshops. Last time he’d been up here, Ward had been attaching metal wings to a rat while the rodent was still alive.
Osyrus glanced up at him, then returned to whatever he was adjusting in the spider’s chest cavity.
“Garret. As I recall, you departed Floodhaven upon the Blue Sparrow, which was fully crewed.” He pulled a gray orb from the spider with a grunt. “You have returned to Floodhaven as a stowaway, with no sign of the crew or ship from which you departed.”
“The crew’s dead.”
Osyrus’s hands froze. He looked up. “Including Vera?”
“You told me to kill her if she misbehaved.”
“In what manner did she misbehave?”
Garret couldn’t lie about delivering the food to Burz-al-dun. There were too many ways for Osyrus to learn about it. Beyond that, there was some wiggle room.
“We got the food from the crashed skyship and took it to Burz-al-dun,” Garret said. “When we were done, Vera wanted to take the Blue Sparrow to Pargos, rather than return to Floodhaven. So I killed her.”
“What of the longbowmen?”
“They took offense to Vera’s murder, but Garwin and his Ghalamarians had the numbers.”
“Where is Garwin?”
“Last I saw them, he and his men were doing a shit job of trying to fly the Blue Sparrow over the Razorbacks in bad weather.”
“They deserted?”
Garret shrugged. “Give a few soldiers that were press-ganged into war a skyship of their own, they’re going to get ideas.”
“Why didn’t you stop them?”
“If you wanted someone to keep that many soldiers under control, you should have sent an acolyte.”
Ward stared at Garret for a while. “I’ll send scouting ships along the Razorbacks to look for the Sparrow, naturally.”
“Naturally.”
Thing was, the Razorbacks were a very large mountain range, and they were teeming with Red Skulls. Ward would send a few ships, sure, but not enough to rule out the possibility of undiscovered wreckage. The lie was covered.
“Whether we find the ship or not, this is a disappointing result, Garret.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Oh? How is a lost skyship and a deserting Ghalamarian count a good thing?”
“You have plenty more skyships. And with Vera dead, you can give up your ridiculous pretense of helping Kira Malgrave and proceed with whatever you actually want her for.”
Ward raised his eyebrows. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Vera was blinded by her affection for the girl,” said Garret. “I’m not.”
Ward glanced at Nebbin, but said nothing. Garret had the feeling that Ward was on the cusp of having him killed, which was a risk he knowingly took by returning to Floodhaven. But he had an easy way to put himself back in Ward’s favor.
“Also, you were wrong about Ashlyn Malgrave,” Garret said. “She’s alive. And regardless of whether sorcery exists, she is doing something that looks an awful lot like it.”
Osyrus’s face was unreadable. “How do you know this?”
“She was at the crash site. One of her arms is wreathed in metal, and she can make orbs like the one you’re pulling out of that spider fly around her head.”
“I want to know everything that you saw Ashlyn Malgrave do.”
Garret described Ashlyn’s body and abilities in detail. When he was done, Ward rattled off a lo
ng series of increasingly more specific questions—everything from the thickness of the bands on her arm to the amount of visible sweat on her body and face when she moved the orbs through the air.
“Her system doesn’t sound entirely stable,” said Nebbin. “But with the proper adjustments, she may be able to deliver the voltage levels we’ve been unable to reach when purifying the fluid samples.”
“Possibly,” Ward agreed. “But the system must be intertwined with her biology. We would need to capture her alive. What happened to her?”
“Despite her power, the longbowmen had the range,” Garret lied. “She fled into the jungle.”
Nebbin cursed. “She could be anywhere by now.”
“I can find her,” Garret said.
“Are you that eager to make up for your mistake?” Ward asked.
“Not exactly,” Garret said. “Ashlyn Malgrave and I have unfinished business. I’ll bring her to you alive on the condition that I be allowed to kill her when you’re done with her.”
Linkon Pommol might be dead, but the contract he’d assigned to Garret was not.
“I see.” Osyrus picked up a fresh gray orb, which was engraved with all manner of numbers and symbols, and started implanting it into the spider’s guts. “Do you know what happened to Bartholomew, here? He was disemboweled by a tabby cat. Whole swaths of machinery and artificial organs shredded.”
Osyrus put another orb into its belly, then began attaching a bunch of different wires to the spider’s legs.
“When I discovered the incident, I had a choice. As a specimen, Bartholomew has long since become obsolete. So the only reason to repair him was to test something new. As it turned out, I had an idea for a control mechanism.”
Osyrus finished the wires, then cleaned his hands with a rag. When that was finished, he opened a metal case with ten gray rings on it. He slipped a ring onto each finger. Each ring had a small gray ball on it about the size of a pea. The rings that he put on his thumbs had the opposite—a grooved space of about the same size.
Ward locked the ball of his forefinger ring into the groove of his thumb ring, then pulled them apart with a metallic snap, which caused one of the spider’s legs to twitch.
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