by Wen Spencer
“Yes, bastard,” Oilcan whispered. “You need to get out before you hit that.”
The current was going to sweep Iron Mace across the river and up against the high walls of the lock on the far bank. Annoyingly, there was even a ladder there for someone to scramble up from a boat. It would be impossible for a human to climb it with one hand, but an elf’s longer reach meant Iron Mace could do it and maintain his shield.
Oilcan slid to the edge of the parking lot and took off running for the dam. Tommy was right about needing the strength to do the hard thing, because this fight was to the death. Iron Mace had to kill Oilcan and anyone else that might know about what he’d done. He had dug a deep, deep hole, and the only way out was to fill it with bodies. Oilcan had to be sure that the elf never got out of the river. He held close to the anger thrumming through him, hot and heady. So, how did he kill this bastard?
There was no way Iron Mace could go near the sluicegates without being swept over the dam. Beyond the gates was a dangerous undertow that would pin Iron Mace under water. The only safe way out was the ladder. It was the same heavy steel as the catwalk, bolted solid into the cement wall of the lock. If Oilcan hit it with a force strike, it would blast the entire ladder to shards.
He could mark Iron Mace’s position by the circling jumpfish. Oilcan reached the end of the catwalk and scrambled down to the lock’s wall. At the top of the ladder, he cocked his fingers, brought his hand to his mouth, and then paused. If he blasted the ladder now, Iron Mace might just find another way out of the water. As long as the male maintained his shield, he was safe to find another way. If Oilcan waited and cast the spell while Iron Mace was holding on to the ladder . . .
The result would be awful and utterly necessary. It went against everything Oilcan tried to be, but he wouldn’t have a second chance to take Iron Mace while vulnerable. So he waited, hating himself, trying to hold tight to his anger. This male had attacked him in his home. Had left his kids defenseless. Had come to Neville Island to kill Tinker.
The last brought the rage he needed.
Iron Mace surged up out of the water and caught hold of the lowest rung. Jumpfish were bouncing off the elf’s shield, trying to snatch him off the wall. Oilcan waited until the male had heaved himself up, swearing and grunting with effort, and got a foot onto the rung and grabbed the second rung tight.
Oilcan tapped the Spell Stones. Iron Mace looked up, eyes going wide in surprise. Oilcan closed his fist tight in the force strike. Iron Mace’s hand and foot shattered along with the steel of the ladder. The male screamed, falling backward, his shield vanishing as he flailed in pain, and the jumpfish took him.
45: IMPATIENCE
For reasons that weren’t clear to Tinker until much later, Oilcan, Tommy Chang, and Riki Shoji all showed up after the fireworks were over. Thankfully, they had Oilcan’s kids, minus Rustle, safe among them.
“Hey,” Oilcan called as he scrambled through the wreckage of what had been their home. She whimpered at the sight of him, his eyes and ears proof that he wasn’t human anymore. He looked young and haunted, but at least he was alive. She caught hold of him and hugged him despite his efforts to check her for new cuts and bruises.
“You had me worried with that last explosion.” His voice was his own, rough with emotion. “I’m sorry about the hotel.”
She closed her eyes and focused on his voice and the hammering of his heart, like he had just run a race. “It’s just a thing. All things wear out eventually.”
“Usually not so spectacularly.” He unknowingly echoed her thoughts about Ginger Wine’s.
She clutched him tighter, giggling. “Well, you’re finally showing the family destructive gene.”
He head-butted her gently. “One occurrence doesn’t indicate a trait.”
“We’ll see. Time will tell.” Tears filled her eyes as she realized that they had forever to see. How could something be in theory a good thing and yet feel so awful?
“Hey, don’t.” Oilcan wiped at her tears. “Or I’ll sic Pony on you.”
“No fair.” She scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her good hand. “I’m fine.”
“Is—is this Chloe Polanski?” Riki had discovered the body that Tinker had covered up with a deflated seahorse float.
“She’s a Skin Clan intanyai seyosa,” Tinker said. “She engineered all this so I would figure how the kids tapped their ability and God knows what else. Oh, Oilcan, I’ve screwed up bad. I’ve lost Rustle.” Tinker waved a hand at the gleaming spell shell. “Well—sort of lost him. I think he’s still right here—but I don’t know how to get him out. Yet.”
Oilcan stalked around the spell, eyeing the gleaming runes. “It’s just a two-layered spell? The divination spell from before and a focusing array?”
Tinker sighed. “Yeah. The weirdness is all Rustle. Look at this.” She knelt beside the gleaming spell to point out the earbuds and the pinpoints of blues and greens. “It’s reacting to the music. Really, it’s resonance that I think is key. Providence spoke of worlds in harmony. If you think of each world represented by a single note, then the linked worlds will . . .” Tinker’s knowledge hit a void, and she looked at Oilcan to fill in the words.
“The next note in the chord.”
“Yeah, something like that. String theory states that subatomic particles behave like vibrating strings. Subatomic particles make atoms; atoms build into molecules, which form our DNA. If each world has one grand note, then every living creature would have that note built into its DNA. We resonate to the world of our DNA, so the kids, having dragon DNA, have at least two different ‘notes.’ They might have a ‘chord’ structure. Heck, since the dragons can travel between matter and worlds, the dragons might even start with a chord structure. I think applying a large amount of magic to Rustle allows him to change notes, sliding to the next world in harmony.”
“He’s on Onihida?” Oilcan said with alarm.
Tinker made calming motions. “It’s possible that he’s on all the worlds at once. It depends on how diffused he is.”
“What?”
“I don’t think it’s hurting him. The iPod is still playing!”
“How do we free him?” Oilcan asked.
Tinker blew out her breath and tugged at her hair. Yeah—how? “Just need to figure out what this world’s note is . . . and tell it to him . . . somehow . . . and . . . something.”
“Quiee,” Baby Duck said.
They glanced in unison at the other children, huddled close together.
She really hated to say it aloud, but there was no other logical choice. “Since the other kids have the same ability, they might be able to figure out the note.”
“No!” Oilcan snapped.
“I didn’t say I was going to experiment on them!” Tinker cried. “Not directly. We could see if they recognize the note, and then tell it to Rustle.”
“Can he even hear us?” Blue Sky asked.
This was how it always went, and there was comfort in the familiar. “We’ll tackle that after we figure out the note. By now you should know the steps of the scientific method. Ask a question, do background research . . .”
“Now I know we’re in trouble,” Blue grumbled. “You only say that when the shit is about to hit the fan.”
Tinker forged on. “Construct a hypothesis, test your hypothesis by doing an experiment, analyze your data, and draw a conclusion.”
“And communicate your results,” Oilcan added as always.
“But we never tell anyone anything,” Blue mumbled.
“Sama.” Merry was holding her bulky olianuni case to her chest. “I can tell Rustle.”
They blinked at her in surprise, and finally Oilcan sputtered out, “How—how exactly would you tell him?” as Tinker murmured, “I thought you said they weren’t telepathic.”
“I’ll join him inside the spell.” Merry edged closer to the spell.
“No, no, no, no, definitely not.” Oilcan reached out for her, and she flinched away.
“It should have been me!” Merry circled the spell, keeping away from Oilcan’s outstretched hand. “He’s hurt! He can’t even drum! And he has nothing to drum with. I love him and I couldn’t bear it if I never saw him again and I know I might have been able to save him.”
“Merry,” Tinker said. “I don’t want to lose both of you, because I don’t know if I’m right. I might be totally wrong on this whole resonance thing. Music might not have anything to do with it. I probably am wrong.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Merry said. “I’d be with him. I’ll be where he is.”
“You should let her go,” Blue said. “It would be right to let her go.”
Tinker stared at him, surprised and a little horrified. Even worse, when she looked to Pony, he nodded sadly.
“What is the worth of your life if you can’t protect the ones you love the most?” Pony said.
Of course the bodyguards would think that way. They were lucky to see the world in black and white. The world was so clear-cut to them. If it was her, yes, she’d throw herself into the spell in a heartbeat to save Oilcan, or Windwolf, or Pony, or Stormsong, or Blue Sky . . . Gods, the list kept getting longer and longer the more she thought about it—which probably only proved their point.
Yes, she would chance it. That wasn’t the point here. She was the adult, and Merry was just a child of approximately thirteen. Although some people would say eighteen wasn’t an adult. And to be fair, at thirteen she had started her own business and lived by herself.
And had risked her life to save a total stranger from a saurus.
If it had been Oilcan on the ground unconscious, she wouldn’t have even done a hit-and-run on the saurus. She would have beat on it with everything she had. She hadn’t known Windwolf, had no reason to think that saving him was her responsibility, and yet she’d felt like she had to do something, and that hitting and running would be an acceptable risk. That it would be best to strike once, strike hard, and flee.
Stormsong said that her mother’s talent made Tinker ruthless on the racetrack. Maybe her talent had guided her that day. Maybe she knew deep inside that Windwolf would someday be someone that she would risk everything to save.
How sure did she feel that she was right now? If she had nothing but a hunch, how strong was that gut feeling? “Okay.”
“Tink!” Oilcan cried.
“I think it will be okay,” Tinker said. “It feels right.”
* * *
While the tengu and the laedin set up a new perimeter, her Hand stayed close, keeping her shielded so she could focus on saving Rustle. She was glad that Thorne Scratch shadowed Oilcan, keeping him safe. Merry played all the tones the olianuni could make, starting with the deep rumbling notes, while the other children listened intently.
“Do it again?” Barley suggested after Merry finished hitting the highest chime-like notes that the instrument produced. “None of them seemed special.”
“They’re just sound,” Cattail Reeds grumbled.
Baby Duck quacked nervously.
“I don’t think they can recognize it,” Oilcan murmured, and behind him Thorne Scratch nodded, agreeing with his assessment.
“If we could recognize it normally, then Rustle and I would already know it.” Merry had been stoically silent up to now. “We’ve studied music our whole life. Really! Whole summers just practicing chord progressions!”
“She has a point.” Tinker considered the problem. “Here’s what we know. None of the other kids had the problem of losing stuff like Rustle did. Right? The enclaves are on a strong ley line, but none of the other kids’ powers activated. And Merry didn’t do this”—she waved toward the gleaming spell—“when we just did a divination spell.”
“We established those as given.” Oilcan pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Could we just null all magic in the area?” Riki asked.
“That might destroy the only link we have with him.” Tinker’s comment made Merry meep and Baby Duck quack in distress. “Providence exists elsewhere without a body? He needs a combination of magic, what’s left of his body, and Jin to manifest?” Riki nodded to this, so Tinker plunged on. “If the kids have the duality of intelligence, there might be information they can only access while connected to large amounts of magic.”
“That’s a huge leap in logic.” Oilcan gave a sad smile to Thorne Scratch, who had laid her hand on his shoulder.
“I know,” Tinker said unhappily. “The gut feeling is still there, but I don’t like risking Merry’s life just on a hunch.” She paused to look around, suddenly aware that her test subject had vanished. “Where’s Merry?”
Everyone pointed at the spell.
Thorne tightened her grip on Oilcan to keep him from leaping after Merry. “She earned the right to choose her path when she walked away from all that was safe and ventured out into the unknown.”
“Why didn’t you stop her?” Tinker cried to Blue Sky, who had been standing closest to Merry.
“You said it was okay for her to try!” Blue Sky backed up, holding up his hands to fend Tinker off.
“I—I—no! That was before!” Tinker cried.
The spell started to flash colors all up and down the spectrum as music suddenly started to play loud enough to hear.
“She’s with him.” Thorne Scratch still held tight to Oilcan.
“How do you know?” Oilcan asked.
“That’s an olianuni duet. It needs two people to perform it,” Thorne Scratch explained. “They’re played often at court.”
“I dress people for court,” Cattail Reeds said as the other children looked to her for confirmation. “I don’t actually attend court.”
Stormsong breathed out a laugh. “It is a duet. ‘Mating Dance of the Dragons.’”
The light flared within the spell shell fast and brilliant. Deep violets rumbling and pale yellows shimmering with reds and oranges trilling around and around each other. Once Tinker considered the speed of the notes, it was clear that more than one person had to be playing the song.
“This means that both Merry and Rustle are in the same location,” she said. “Wherever that may be. They are able to communicate with each other and exist in a manner that allows them to create music.”
Tommy gave her an odd look. “And?”
Tinker tugged at her hair. “I’m still analyzing data to draw a conclusion.”
There was a sudden flare of power from the spell, an overwhelming sense of falling without actually moving.
Tinker cursed softly. “Was that Startup?”
“Sure the hell felt like it,” Oilcan said.
The spell collapsed to reveal Merry standing in front of her olianuni with Rustle pressed against her back. Both kids had mallets in hand, sweating and panting heavily.
Merry yipped triumphantly and brandished her mallets, nearly smacking Rustle in the nose. “We did it!”
“Well,” Tinker said. “At least that part of the plan worked.”
* * *
The entire hotel, including the frictionless parking lot, had been transferred to another world. They stood in the doorway of the casting room and studied it with fear. Tall trees shrouded the island and something gave an echoing call.
“Well . . . at least we now know why the Skin Clan wanted the kids so bad,” Tinker finally managed. “They’re a portable large-scale gate system to multiple worlds. It’s quite possible that the more power you feed into them, the bigger the area they can shift.”
“Quiee,” Baby Duck said. “Quiee. Quiee.”
“Which planet is this?” Blue Sky asked.
“It’s not Onihida, is it?” Barley asked with fear.
“We can get back home?” Cattail Reeds asked.
“I’m sorry,” Rustle said. “This is all my fault.”
“Actually, it’s mine,” Tinker said. “And this isn’t Onihida. This section of Onihida is overpopulated. Actually, much of Onihida is overpopulated.”
“That’s what t
hose of the flock that were born on Onihida report,” Riki said while Tommy nodded in agreement.
“Earth?” Oilcan guessed. “This area would be virgin Elfhome forest where Pittsburgh should have been on Earth.”
“I think this is Ryuu,” Riki said. “Home of the dragons.”
Was this why Providence and Impatience had gotten involved with protecting the children? Was the Skin Clan trying to find a way to conquer Ryuu after it took Elfhome? Tinker thought about the emperor “distilling down the essence of a god” and shuddered.
“We can get back?” Cattail Reeds repeated.
“I want to go home,” Baby Duck added in quietly.
So did Tinker.
Something moved in the shadows. It wove closer through the massive tree trunks.
“Incoming,” Tinker cried and tried to set up a link to the Spell Stones. Nothing happened. “Oh, not good.”
Oilcan did a call on the Stones and shook his head. “I’m getting nothing, too.”
The sekasha triggered their shields, and anyone with a weapon pointed it toward the shape.
“Wait!” Riki cried. “It’s Impatience!”
“What is he doing here?” Tinker had thought the dragon had been stranded on Elfhome. Then again, if the kids had a dragon’s ability, then he should be able to come and go as he pleased. Why had he stayed in Pittsburgh? Just to be close to the kids? The little dragon butted up against Oilcan, talking nonstop, patting him over and over. “What is he saying, Riki?”
Riki’s eyes went wide at the question, and he scrambled to answer. “Ah, he’s saying . . . um . . . it is you but not you. All the little pieces are the same and yet different. Why would they do this? Oh, I see, they made you more like the little princess.”
Was Impatience talking about the small changes in Oilcan’s ears and eyes, or was he talking smaller, as in DNA?
“Ask him why he’s here,” Tinker said.
