The Gadgeteer Box Set

by Gin Hollan

  “And you’re a guard in that place?” She crossed her arms as a chill drifted over them. The night was warm but cooling quickly, she noted. “I can’t imagine that is a first choice position. Did you volunteer or were you assigned?”

  “I was assigned.” He looked uncomfortable for a moment, then sighed. “I’m just following orders and doing my duty.”

  He sounded bitter, Arabeth noted, but she had too many questions to worry about his emotional state. She paused a moment to consider his wording. He really was from a different time and place. Oddly, she felt she knew him somehow, as though he could be trusted. She shook her head slightly. Her imagination was getting involved again.

  “We should go inside. I'll feed you,” she offered. She wanted a good look at the inside of this serenthex machine, and hoped a bit of food would buy her that option.

  “I am at your service, Sage.” He inclined his head slightly. “If you have drinking water, that would be welcome, or something stronger if you have it.”

  As they walked, she noticed a stiffness to his gait. She hadn't considered the long-term effect of stasis. In a way, it was a miracle the prisoners had simply walked out.

  Arabeth chuckled as she went to unlock the back door. “We'll save the 'something stronger' for after we're sure your health is recovered. You were in stasis almost two hundred years, by all accounts.”

  “Two hundred?” he muttered the question to himself.

  In the kitchen, she pointed him to a seat. As he sat down and filled a glass with water from the pitcher on the table, she went to her icebox and pulled out a container holding frozen chicken stew and started reheating it on the stove.

  “You don't mother everyone you know, do you?” he joked.

  “Ha ha. Very funny. How is it you were in there? I'm not entertaining the enemy, judging from your bearing and behaviour, so what's your story?” Arabeth asked.

  “There had to be a guard in the event of an escape. The government had a volunteer, but someone drugged me and now here I am,” he said with a growl. “It was nothing short of a betrayal. If they weren't already long dead, they'd face my blade.”

  “For the record, I was tricked too,” Arabeth said. “We were taught a fake history by our progenitors and scared into staying on this side of the mountains. We'd heard a plague had wiped out civilization over there and we were here for our own safety.”

  “How did you learn otherwise? And are we still at peace, then?”

  “I learned by accident, or an act of providence. I'm not sure which. And we're not at war, although it may not be for long if Howard and Tamden are left to run amok.” If Howard was saying the mountain could be moved, who would believe him? Was he saying it just to goad her? “Many resent us, thinking we have benefited too much from our isolation, and others say we should pay for our progenitors’ crimes. That we should be, effectively, extinct.”

  “It's a good thing you're a Sage, then.”

  It sounded like more than a job designation when he said it.

  Arabeth shrugged. “I can't read the language, or understand how to use the lyars and formulae tactically, so I'm pretty much useless.”

  “I can help with that.”

  She fell silent, unaccustomed to relying on other people.

  “Tell me why you pulled us all out of stasis,” he said.

  “It's barbaric to keep people trapped alive like that, regardless of their crime. I wanted to move them to a prison where they could live out their days with some dignity, yet still pay the penalty for what they did.

  “It sounds noble when I say it like that, but I wanted the truth about our past,” Arabeth continued. “All I've learned is that we're the descendants of Seers and Sages, and any other crystal-sensitive people. This place is just another kind of prison. We grew up ignorant of your war, and of the consequences of using a mountain to lock time.”

  “Had you known, you would have brought me out first. I am Rorigard. The armour is a serenthex. Together we are Warbreaker, and we can easily recapture your errant convicts.”

  She waited for him to explain a bit more.

  “Do you have scissors?” he asked suddenly.

  Frowning, she looked at him.

  “For my hair,” he clarified.

  “Tomorrow I'll take you to a barber.” She opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors.

  “Do you know where I can get parts?” He started cutting his hair using his chin line as a guide.

  She paused, watching long strands of grey pile up around his feet. Looking up at his face, she stared a moment, then turned away.

  “Not locally. Lucky for you, I was raised in my grandfather's workshop. I can probably make what you need, or know someone who can,” she said.

  “The microphone in my headset is broken. The shell is soundproof, so to communicate properly I'll need that fixed. The suit itself is fine. Where can I put this?” he asked as he picked the hair up from the floor.

  “There is a bin near the outside door for the hair. As for the microphone, I have parts.” She smiled at him.

  “Thank you. They say time doesn't pass in stasis, but that's not quite true. For brief moments now and then I was able to hear what was going on outside. My microphone would pick up odd bits and snatches of distant conversation. I don't think the others could.”

  “I suppose that's why everyone who came out had long hair, looking half-starved.” She had told him about the others during the walk back, but with his microphone broken, he couldn't have responded. She turned the stove off and quickly put two bowls and spoons out on the table. “Dinner is ready.”

  “Thank you,” he said, sitting down quickly.

  She picked up his bowl and ladled in some of the stew from the steaming pot on the stove.

  “Tell me, why did you pull me out if you have no idea who I am or why I was in there?” he asked. He didn't look up from his food, but continued. “And why do you trust me?”

  “There are different levels of trust. I don't think you mean me any harm, and you were different from the others. I suspect we may be of benefit to one another.”

  He glanced up at her words. “What can I do for you?”

  “I need information. We have lost the knowledge associated with crystals, lyars and the sage books. It all lacks context. I've been learning, but it's slow without books or a teacher.”

  He leaned back. “Simple. In exchange for meals and a room, I will be that teacher.”

  “My family will protest.”

  Rorigard chuckled. “Then, by all means, you must.”

  “You're a troublemaker, aren't you?” Arabeth's laugh was lighter than she expected. Was she . . . flirting? No, she wouldn't do that. She couldn't. But she did need his help. “I accept your offer. They'll adjust. The fact that you’re a good-looking guy who owns the most incredible technology I've ever seen shouldn't worry them. If they don't trust me now, they never will.” He was thin, but he’d fill out, she knew. Then God help all the girls. I

  “Do you want to get a look at it?”

  “At your armour?”

  “Yes, to see if you can fix the microphone.”

  She nodded vigorously. She could hardly wait to get her hands on it, to see what secrets it held. She jumped up and headed outside, not willing to let him back out on the offer.

  He followed her out, a bemused look on his face.

  Inside the armour, she found the logical, expected things. A chair sculpted to fit him comfortably, a display panel showing the space around him with markers for what each thing was, but there were no controls for direction or movement.

  “How do you drive this?” she muttered.

  He leaned in from behind and pointed to the right armrest. It rose up to shoulder height and there was a small circle near the top. “This connects me to the system.”

  He pulled back the corner of his shirt and showed her a small hollow disk on the side of his shoulder. She looked closer and saw what looked like a valve cover.

&
nbsp; “Electrical. And you're all but immobilized in here. How can you stand it?”

  “It took some getting used to, but once the merge is complete, I'm too involved in the system to feel separate from it,” he explained.

  A knock on the fence gate drew her attention. Sam stood in the opening, watching. Arabeth’s smile fell away when she saw his grim expression.

  “Sam, why didn't you come in? I'm glad you're here. I have someone to introduce you to, and a couple ideas to run past you. Would you like some coffee?”

  “I won't be staying.” He looked down at an envelope in his hand as he held it out to her. “I wanted to give this to you personally.”

  “Who is it from?”

  “Open it later, when you're alone,” he said softly.

  “Are you sure you won't stay? We may not have a lot of time before Howard makes his move. Getting the people out of the mountain was only the start. We need a plan.”

  “Just stay out of it, Arabeth. Stay home.” Sam's jaw set as he clenched his teeth. “I have to go.”

  The gate slammed behind him, leaving a bewildered Arabeth staring at it.

  “I'm going to guess that wasn't the fiancé you spoke of?” Rorigard asked.

  Arabeth's heart was beating in her ears as she considered Sam's abrupt change of behaviour. “No, that was him,” she said softly. “Something must be wrong.” She opened the envelope, unable to resist her curiosity.

  // Chapter 20 //

  'DEAR ARABETH,

  Howard tricked you into freeing the prisoners, preying on your need for appropriate justice, using other people to feed you only the information he wanted you to know. They are now at large and the constables who were escorting them are in the hospital suffering from a form of mental trauma.

  I'm having to clean up the mess we made now—I do accept my part, but I find I can't defend your actions to other people. I am not saying it was your fault the constables were hurt, but I have to accept that without my support, you may have taken more time to think before acting or decided on a more reasonable course of action. Please do not interfere as we gather up the inmates.

  Also, and this is well thought out, not merely an addendum—I am withdrawing my offer of marriage. I hope that, in time, you will forgive me. You will always remain precious in my memory.

  Sincerely,

  Samuel Hicks'

  Arabeth's hand shook slightly. He was trying to protect her again. He should have waited until she read it. She had questions. He was clearly angry and probably embarrassed. This felt like a goodbye, but it couldn't be permanent. He had to be protecting her . . . but why this kind of letter?

  If every lie had a grain of truth in it, which part of this one was which? It seemed that Sam directly blamed her for most of the problems they'd caused after leaving Blastborn. That wasn’t fair, though. She dropped the letter on the kitchen table and went to pull her coat and boots on. She needed a better explanation.

  The proposal being withdrawn was meaningless. He knew they wouldn't get married if things continued the way they were, logical as it may be. Her speculation was that the proposal was his way of not losing her as a friend again. That had been brutally hard on both of them. But that would never happen. He'd see—there was no such thing as a forever goodbye when it came to the two of them.

  Back to the problem at hand—moving the inmates to a proper prison was still the right thing to do, even if they were not properly trained to handle this kind of criminal. Even if Howard had manipulated her, someone had to help those people.

  Standing with her hand on the door handle, she paused. How many people would eventually turn on her, use her, or simply decide she was no longer someone they needed? Sam was her one faithful friend. But he was right—they'd both changed. Had she lost him completely, or was he still a friend? It solved one puzzle, at least: He hadn’t been flirting. Ever since he stayed behind in Vensay, he’d been treating her with more distance.

  Suddenly Rorigard was standing beside her. He reached out, resting a hand on her shoulder. “What's wrong?”

  Not thinking, she handed him the letter. She'd recapture the inmates whether he wanted her to or not. It would be safer for her to do it than Sam or the others. The inmates would respect her status as a Sage, she was sure. It was a cornerstone of their culture.

  “I can’t tell if this is the trick or the fix. He’s mad at someone. I’m just not sure who,” she muttered. Hearing the words come out, she knew it was true. She couldn't remember him ever being mad at her before. “Don’t worry, he’s not serious about the break up.”

  A moment later Marble bumped her leg and whimpered. Arabeth crouched down and lifted her up into a hug. “How do you always know when I'm sad?” she whispered and wiped some moisture off her cheek. She hadn't even realized she'd teared up.

  Sam's withdrawing the proposal wasn't truly a surprise, was it? If it were sincere, she meant. He'd been acting differently after meeting him at Andun's. Was there more to it than that, though?

  She shook her head. That wasn't where her focus needed to be. Howard had used her to hurt people. Anger at this thought flared up and she turned to look at Rorigard. She didn't have the luxury of letting herself mull over Sam's letter right now. She'd talk it out with him later.

  “You’re right. This isn't the problem he thinks it is.” His half-smile had an air of mischief to it, but his eyes were hardened. “I'll suit up. They'll be behind bars in no time.”

  Arabeth looked at him, hopeful.

  “The serenthex. This is what it does?” she asked.

  “One of many things it does.” He put a hand on her arm. “Wait for me at the police station of your choice. I'll have the first of them there within the hour.”

  Her heart leapt but then reality stepped in. “It can't be that easy,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

  “Well, the serenthex tracks them down and neutralizes their abilities. After that, I escort them to prison.” He shrugged. “It's all by design.”

  “I'd like to learn more about how that works. Are you sure I can't come with you?”

  “I travel faster alone.”

  She nodded. “Oh, right. Of course.”

  “And I want you at the police station so they don't think I'm some kind of invader.”

  She looked at him and saw a look of mischief on his face. He was joking again. She laughed. “Your jokes are terrible.”

  “I'm rusty, that's all.”

  “Sure, sure.”

  “When you get to the prison, there's something you'll need,” he said seriously. His shift in attitude shocked her back to the situation. “Follow me.”

  Out in the crystal field, the serenthex seemed to glow, both reflecting and absorbing the light of the crystals around it. Rorigard came back with a small oval metal object.

  “When you get inside the station house, press this small indent here. That will activate an energy field that will block blood powers.”

  “Blood powers, like Seers and Crystal Sages?”

  He nodded. “Among others.”

  She looked the device over, confused by the lack of seams or fasteners. Except for the button, it was perfectly smooth.

  “I'll make another one for you to figure out, later.” He shook his head and took her hand, sticking it and the device into her pocket. “We need you to not accidentally activate it here.”

  “Oh, of course.” She felt her face flush red.

  “Stand clear. The serenthex can be a bit clumsy standing up.”

  Rorigard's expression became harder, more focused as he lay down inside the suit. It hissed and sealed shut.

  Watching the process, Arabeth thought about the plug on his shoulder and couldn't shake the sensation that the machine was absorbing him. Did he ever hesitate to go in there? What about this time? After being trapped in there for over two hundred years, she could understand if he did.

  As man and machine walked away, stepping over the fence and receding quickly into the distance, sh
e couldn't help but admire the technology. It moved like a human, not an automaton. He said his was the last one, but clearly someone had been working on making them again. Automatons, though crude, would be the simplest prototype.

  Turning, she slapped a hand against her leg. It was time for her part. Arabeth walked back inside, still carrying Marble.

  “I'll be okay. You go back to your babes, Marble.” She set the creature down, stroking her fur a few times before standing back up.

  Marble didn't leave; instead, she followed Arabeth to the door. As Arabeth threw on her coat, the kits joined Marble at her feet. They were too young to be following along out of doors, and even if they weren't, Arabeth didn't know what was ahead of her. She wasn't risking them.

  Stooping down, she gently pushed all three away from her. “It's too dangerous, Marble. You three need to stay home today.”

  She hoped Marble understood. Standing, she looked at them a minute. Marble looked sad, somehow. Crouching this time, Arabeth pet her head and neck. “I'll be back, and soon things will go back to normal. When your youngsters are older, you can all come out.”

  She gave the kits a quick pet, then lashed on her boots. When they followed her out, she didn't argue, although she was tempted to lock them in a room for the time being. That felt wrong, though. If things went badly for her, they'd need their freedom in order to survive.

  Walking slowly so they could all keep up, she had to admit she didn't want to face the police at the precinct. If Sam blamed her, they probably did as well. She wanted to see if there was anything she could do to help the constables while waiting for Rorigard and explaining who he was. The hard path was sometimes the right one.

  // Chapter 21 //

  “YOU HAVE A lot of nerve, coming here under these circumstances,” one of the police detectives said, rushing around the counter to usher Arabeth out.

  “Those circumstances are why I'm here, Mr. Entorel. The escaped prisoners will be here soon. I have to make sure you're ready this time,” she said loudly, hoping to be overheard. The prison warden had his office near the entrance on purpose. Watching traffic and overhearing visitor conversations was a part of how he kept ahead of problems, he claimed.