A gondola climbed up from the stone village along the wire. Puffs of black smoke exited from its red roof. It appeared to be made similarly to an airship gondola.
Through the glass, I could see one figure inside and guessed his identity. When the gondola lurched to a stop, Franklin stepped out, smiling. He wore a leather apron and his face and auburn hair were speckled with soot.
"Welcome to the Thornveld, Kat. I was wondering if you'd ever visit," he said.
Not wanting to spoil the mood, I decided to wait until later to explain the situation with Chloris. "I am right glad to see you, Temple."
"You may call me Ben here. We are safe from those who would compromise our secrets," he said with a wink.
"Who are your workers then, that we can trust them?" I asked, indicating the people moving about the village with a sweep of my hand.
"Don't worry. You'll meet them soon enough," he said. "Come, let us take a leisurely ride down."
"I thought you'd never ask," I said, giving him a brief bow.
He opened the gondola door and I passed close. Though he had a metallic scent to him, the burning of industry, I found it oddly enticing, but passed it off as a side effect of my sorcerous lust.
To distract myself from the close quarters of the gondola, I explained what I’d found at the ink shop and that Brassy was acting as our spy for the duration.
"Can you trust her?" asked Ben.
"I believe so," I said. "But what choice do we have? With so little time, we must rely on any ally we can obtain."
He nodded, reluctantly.
"I understand the need," he said. "But take care, though. Do not tell her about the Thornveld, or bring her here. We cannot let others know about this."
We both knew that Brassy had worked for Chloris before. If that prophetic water nymph had some hold on the bawdy girl, then she could cause complications, and not just the ones I'd encountered in my bed.
As we approached the bottom, I waved cool air into my face, trying to banish the erotic thoughts lurking in the corners of my mind. The gondola was constructed simply, with none of the luxuries normally found in the airships. I leaned against the metal strut, trying to take some guidance from the unyielding surface.
When we reached the village, I let Ben exit before me, so I didn't have to shuffle past him. The landing was a sturdy platform like the upper one. I followed Ben onto the stone street, remembering the alienness of the architecture upon seeing it up close.
The murals on the buildings still induced a faint headache upon viewing. The designs had some mathematical underpinning, like reading the notes of a mad genius through an out of focus magnifying glass.
The buildings had been made for creatures much larger than the pair of us. There was a sense the place held its secrets jealously, and not all of them would be benevolent. I wasn't sure I ever wanted to meet the beings that had made this place.
We turned a corner into a star-shaped space between the buildings. Across from us was the building Rowan Blade and her guardian Harvest had been assaulting when I'd come here before. Faint scars of sorcery lay on the stone.
Everything seemed the same as last time, except the huge doors were open. A greenish-blue light oozed out the entrance. Moving out from the building was a gray cloaked lumpy figure, one of the people I'd seen moving about the village from above.
Ben stopped, a twitch on the corner of his mouth, eyes sparkling with curiosity. He seemed to be waiting for something.
"Who comes to greet us?" I asked.
Ben inclined his head towards the figure. As it moved closer, I realized it wasn't wearing a cloak, but that its coloration matched the oily gray stone of the buildings.
The creature—as I realized it had no human face—was made of stone. That's why I'd thought it had a lumpy gray cloak. Its march towards us wasn't stiff, nor jerky, but had an inevitable grace, as if it were an unstoppable lava flow.
The stone figure stopped before Franklin. It bowed its head towards the inventor like a servant waiting for a command.
Ben turned to me, clearly proud. "Kat, this is a galmi, a worker of the Thornveld."
The galmi had round obsidian eyes that reflected nothing. Its face was vaguely humanoid. Across its body were mathematical designs that matched the murals, little whorls and collected lines that formed vague symbols.
A horrible premonition about the creature seized me like a ravenous beast. I visibly shook.
"Kat? Are you well?" asked Ben, putting his hand on my arm.
I pulled away. Even that faint touch sent ripples of pleasure down my spine, a conflict with the revulsion I was feeling, leaving me weary with confusion.
I hesitated to speak in front of the galmi. Ben sensed my discomfort.
"Don't worry, Kat. They serve us absolutely. There's nothing to fear from them, and what they've helped us achieve in a short time has been nothing short of miraculous," said Ben.
The light of discovery shone on his brow. When it came to inventions, Ben had little restraint. I hoped that wouldn't trouble us later.
"They understand our language?" I asked, glancing sideways at the creature, who was standing motionless.
"Yes," he said, grinning. "And can speak it, though they choose to rarely and only when necessary."
"What about a name?" I asked.
"Nothing formal we can understand, though each has slightly different symbols on their chests. I have a hard time remembering which one is which, but this one seems more ready to take direction from me than the others. I call him Whorl-Star."
"Whorl-Star," I repeated. "How can you trust them?"
The galmi, Whorl-Star, stared at me with those dead eyes. I had an uneasy feeling in my gut.
"As you said with Brassy, we must find allies anywhere we can," said Ben with a particular amount of glee. "Come, come. With great pleasure I will show you the things we have made with their help. The gondola was just a trifle, mostly to help Djata reach the village."
He seemed buoyant about the galmi, so I didn't want to ruin his fun, but something about the presence of the creature made me wary, a little sad even. I tried to determine if some prophecy involved the stone men and if it was that causing my discomfort, but when Ben touched me, he'd distracted me from the thread of my thoughts.
Whorl-Star followed as we made our way to the building with the blue-green light coming out the entrance. It kept a comfortable distance, though I noted that Ben had not asked it to follow.
When we walked through the entrance, I realized it was even larger than I’d first thought. Three steam carriages could pass through it without bumping wheels.
Inside, dozens of galmi worked in the space, moving around tables and contraptions with sluggish competence. In the back, I saw what looked to be an airship within a scaffold.
"Why didn't I see them the last time I was in the Thornveld?" I asked.
"Because I didn't know they existed. Once we figured out how to access some of the secrets of the Thornveld, they came out of the stoneworks," said Ben, laughing.
"Came out of the stoneworks?"
He nodded. "They were part of the stone, a living part. We woke them when we turned on the power source, which I will show you in good time."
Though the indoor space contained a hazy light, I could see quite well. Ben stopped at a worktable. A galmi was bent over, making small movements with delicate brass tools on a spherical object the size of a walnut.
A dozen metal balls, similar to what the galmi was working on, sat in a wooden bowl. Ben took one out and threw it to me.
The sphere was warm. I held it to my ear and shook it, hearing a gentle rattle.
"Press the button," he said.
I examined the object, turning it over in my hand, until I found the faint outline of a button. It depressed with a little pressure, making an audible click.
I dropped it when eight spindly legs burst from the sides. The legs caught the sphere from hitting the stone and waited in a crouched position. It ha
d the appearance of a tiny metal spider.
"This is that thing you were working on before. I remember seeing one scurry under the oven some time back," I said.
Ben raised an amused eyebrow. "I hadn't realized the original still existed, though it has none of the capabilities as this one."
"Which are?"
Ben crouched on his heels and whispered something to the spider, pointing through the workshop to a seated figure in another location. Djata's broad shoulders were easy to identify.
The little metal spider zipped across the floor, dodging between table legs and galmi feet, before disappearing under Djata's wheelchair. Ben looked like a ten-year-old boy about to pull a devious prank. I couldn't help but smile in response.
After a few minutes, the spider returned, climbing into Ben's waiting palm when he held it out. Ben stood and held it between us, giving the metal creature a platform to stand upon. The spider held itself in a waiting stance, like a soldier ready for battle.
"Report," said Ben.
When a voice came out of the metal spider, I recoiled in surprise. It didn't take long to determine it was Djata's voice by the accent.
I couldn't quite figure out what was going on, until I realized that the spider had recorded Djata's voice. It seemed the African inventor had been mumbling to himself, mostly about how long it'd been since he'd visited a bawdy house and some of acts he'd engaged in the last time.
Once the spider began to repeat the phrases that described a particularly intricate carnal maneuver, Ben actually blushed and closed his other hand over top to silence it.
"Well, that was unexpected," he said, glancing askew. "Say nothing of what you just heard."
"A lady never tells," I said, winking.
Before we moved to Djata's location, I grabbed one of the metal spheres and placed it in my pocket. The galmi called Whorl-Star watched me take it impassively, which only made me more concerned.
"What do you call them?" I asked along the way, glancing over my shoulder.
"It's quite obvious, isn't it? They are spyders," he said.
"Oh," I said. "I'm almost sorry I asked."
Djata heard us upon approach and spun his wheelchair around with his thick powerful hands. He was as handsome as I remembered, and it wasn't the magical lust affecting me.
"Princess," said the African inventor, with the amusement wrung out of his tense lips.
"My humblest apologies for what happened in the boat house. I had no idea that creature could track me down," I said.
He gave a sideways glance to Ben. I got the impression Ben had made him promise to behave.
"Things happen." His smile was less than welcoming. "You brought me to a physician after all, which more than made up for two years of work destroyed."
"For which I apologize," I said forcefully. "Might I remind you that it nearly drowned me in the river. I have my skills and your fancy gas to thank for my survival."
He appeared ready to sling back a retort until I mentioned the gas. His features widened with surprise. "The gas worked?"
"Though the experience was quite distressing at first, yes, I was able to breathe underwater for a brief time. Long enough that I was able to escape from the cage," I said.
Djata pondered the information, rubbing the armrests of his wheelchair with his broad hands. When he came to a conclusion, he looked up with a sigh on his lips.
"I owe you an apology, Katerina," he said. "I forget you risked your life that day. Even two years of work isn't worth one life."
"Not necessary," I said.
He cocked his head. "I almost forgot. The chocolate you gave the physician to give to me. Though I cannot know how, it seemed after I ate it, for the next month, many of my best ideas came to me. Some of them I'll show you today."
I said nothing, only just now remembering the chocolate. Morwen Hightower had given it to me in her shop. The tag had read "Commerce." I'd given it to Djata after Koschei had nearly killed him at the dockhouse and destroyed his work with gases.
Ben cleared his throat. "Now that we've gotten that out of the way, we should get back to business."
We moved a little deeper into the workshop, Whorl-Star maintaining a respectful distance. The heat of a foundry reached us through an archway. The red-gold glow washed over us, bathing us in the colors of a sunset. As we neared the threshold, the heat became unbearable. Ahead of us, tending the cupola, was a pair of galmi, outlined in fire.
The first galmi pulled a ladle out of the well and carried it to a wooden box sitting on the stones. It was filled with black sand, except for a little depression with a hole at the center. The galmi poured a gray metal, orange with heat, into the hole in the mold, eliciting sparks and the smell of sulfur.
When the galmi moved back for a second ladle, Ben waved us away to speak where it wasn't so unbearably hot. We'd only been there a minute, but already a sheen of sweat lay on my brow.
"Was that steel they were pouring?" I asked.
Ben didn't answer me and moved to a table, picking up an unfinished rapier without a blade. He threw it, and I caught it at the grip. The quillion was short and compact, the bars uncommonly stiff for their thinness. The guard was made for a slender hand that could fit beneath the protective curve.
"It's too heavy," I said, weighing it on my palm. "Especially when you add the blade."
Ben had that irrepressible grin that told me he was planning something clever. Even Djata had a twinkle to his eye, watching me with an amusement that made my face warm. I felt completely in the eye of their conspiracy.
"Slap the pommel with your hand, or bump it against your thigh. Be careful to point it away from you," said Ben, backing up.
While I looked on in confusion, Djata followed Ben's lead and spun his wheels until he sat a few feet further away.
"What trickery is this?" I asked.
"Never trusting," said Ben, smirking.
"Despite the lack of barrels in the vicinity, I'll assume you're both plum drunk," I said.
After a shrug and a flourish, I slapped my palm against the pommel and nearly fell over in surprise.
From the quillion block sprung a blade, extending to its full length before my exclamation could finish its hiss out my lips. With the blade complete, the rapier took on a comfortable weight, perfectly balanced.
Ben and Djata watched while I stepped through a prima guard counterattack, then switched to terza—my preferred stance—to make a mezzo tempo lunge.
The balance was spectacular. The weapon seemed to float in my palm. When Ben motioned to continue, I proceeded to demonstrate a number of various styles I was competent in until I'd worked up a good sweat.
When I finished, Ben applauded enthusiastically while Djata looked on with what I can only guess was a mix of amusement and interest.
"You're quite talented with that blade," said Djata in a complimentary manner I'd never heard before from his lips.
"With a longer life comes more time to practice. Another benefit of the Society..."
The words had slipped out before I remembered that Djata was not privy to that secret, but before I could apologize, Ben waved me off.
"He is well aware of our little conspiracy, though he chooses not to participate. Trust me, I have offered many times," said Ben.
I thought to ask, but Djata was a guarded man. Ben misconstrued my facial posturing and answered the question he thought was on my lips.
"Yes, you're wondering. How can it be done? I told you before, the galmi have showed us many mysteries," said Ben, while I inspected the edge of the blade.
The metal seemed a dullish color, not the bright glint of steel. Yet, there was a familiarity. It had an oily look.
"What is it?"
"Oestium," said Ben.
"I've never heard of such a metal. Is that your name, or did the galmi give it?" I asked.
"We do not speak their language. The guttural sounds they make aren't repeatable, so I gave it a Latin name based on what they could
tell me about the metal," said Ben.
Suddenly, I wasn't sure I wanted to be holding the rapier. The Latin root suggested the name Oestium meant bone-metal. Along with the other features of the cavern and village, I wasn't sure I wanted to know more.
"Hit the pommel again," he said.
I slapped it a second time, and it resumed its original bladeless shape.
"Oestium has a memory that can be cast into its shape, allowing it to take on many forms at a moment's notice," said Ben.
I reached my hand out to give the hilt back, but Ben shook his head.
"A gift for you," he said. "Besides shape shifting, oestium has another property that makes it uniquely suited for you. It helps conduct magic. I was able to do limited tests with the gauntlet, enough to confirm it. Try it."
I hated to disappoint them, as they both looked on with wide-eyed interest, but I couldn't risk the magic.
"I'm exhausted from a long night of research," I said. "I'll practice with it some other time."
Ben was disappointed, but seemed to understand, while Djata watched me curiously. I couldn't quite make out what that stare meant.
Ben tugged me along to another table. An ornate repeating pistol sat in a cushioned box. It was the smallest pistol I'd yet seen. The origin was clearly Ottoman Empire by the elongated grip and curved trigger guard.
"I know you didn't make that," I said. "That's a Turkish weapon. Good for skullduggery due to its compact size."
"A keen eye for weaponry," said Djata, his nose wrinkling.
Ben grinned, nodding towards me. "Kat would have made an excellent general. She was a colonel of the Imperial guards and awarded the Star of the Order of St. Catherine."
Confused why Ben would be showing me this weapon, I asked, "Is it also made of oestium?"
"Not the pistol, but the bullets," said Ben, reaching for a darkwood box. I hadn't noticed it before being drawn to the pistol.
He flipped it open, revealing two rows of bullets for the weapon. They were the newest type that carried their gunpowder in a clever casing behind the shot. The tips were an oily gray.
"Oestium is a particularly dense metal. We thought it'd make a good replacement for a lead bullet," said Djata.
The Franklin Deception (The Dashkova Memoirs Book 4) Page 6
