by Elise Kova
“Who knew it was possible?”
“What?” Helen asked.
“We can agree on something.”
Helen looked just as surprised as Ari felt.
At the center of Ter.0 was the old meeting hall of the Vicar Tribunal. Where the dormitories and labs occupied the surrounding area, the five-towered hall stretched up and casted its long shadows like hands on a clock. Louie had been correct: work had begun to stabilize the Towers and reinforce them as residences.
Shannra drove the trike around the main entrance to a flat area on the side that had been allocated for parking.
“This is it!” she announced, quieting the engine and hopping down onto the dusty ground.
“This isn’t going to fall on us . . . is it?” Will asked skeptically, stepping out of the cart.
Arianna couldn’t fault the boy for his skepticism. The towers above them tilted uneasily and the winds that blew plumes of dust around them created an illusion of a drunken sway. Arianna adjusted her goggles over her eyes, squinting upward against the filtered sunlight from the clouds above Loom.
“They took a beating at the end of the One Year War. But structurally, they’re still intact.” She saw the straight lines of load-bearing pillars and walls running up like arteries underneath the crumbling cosmetics. “Foundation’s holding. Just the aesthetics—” what little aesthetics Loom ever indulged in “—that seem to be falling off.”
“Wonderful. So I won’t die from the whole thing collapsing, but from a bit of debris dropping on my head.” Helen rolled her eyes and folded her hands on top of her head.
“And if you don’t die from either of those, I’m certain the Dragons will see to it,” Louie noted as he disembarked.
Arianna grimaced at the notion. Ter.0 hadn’t survived the last Dragons’ attack. What did they hope to accomplish by holing up here for the next one?
What was Florence thinking?
“This way to Florence.” Shannra started for an archway, as if reading Arianna’s mind. “It’s a bit mad if we go through the main hall.”
They ascended a steep flight of stairs. Old piping clung to the smooth, industrially plain wall, cracking the stone where it protruded. On the first landing, Arianna heard voices, but it wasn’t until the second landing area that she managed to see their source.
Below them, in the center of the five-towered hall, was the central meeting area. She remembered it from her classes as a child. But her most vivid memory was standing with Oliver, masters from each of the four other guilds, and a handful of others who were ready to die for Loom.
Now, where they had stood, where the Council of Five had made their pact to stand against the Dragons, to stand for Loom, wayward and homeless Fenthri roamed in a sort of controlled chaos.
Men and women poured in through the main entrance, funneled from the airfield and no doubt the few water ports still viable for docking. Some carried luggage, some had their hands laden with books. Others had empty palms and tattered clothing.
Barefoot and booted, the masses of Loom were ushered into the one place that had always stood against the Dragons: Ter.0. It was the home of the Vicar Tribunal and testament to the old ways. It had been the Territory people didn’t dare speak of, for fear of being accused of inciting rebellion. And now it was where Loom would begin anew.
Arianna no longer had trouble understanding Florence’s logic.
When Loom was all but destroyed, one place would always be home to every Fenthri, regardless of one’s guild. The wayward Raven Arianna had taken in years ago had the wisdom to bring them back there.
A smile snuck up on her as Arianna looked through the arcade of windows, at the flow of people below. It was a smile that quickly faded at the sound of a lone voice.
“Arianna?”
Arianna turned to meet two dark eyes, black as the outlined Raven on the girl’s cheek. The filtered light seemed to shine brighter, and the crumbling world built itself anew, simply because she was in one beautiful piece.
“Florence,” Arianna whispered.
FLORENCE
“Arianna . . .” The name flowed from her like a familiar creed. It echoed old sentiments and resonated off the new corners of her personality that had been built in the white-haired woman’s absence.
There she was, Florence’s teacher and guardian, just as she remembered her. They’d been separated for months, and Florence had traveled half the world, across three territories, since they’d parted. She had seen guilds fall and good men die. She had the scars to speak of the battles she’d won, and lost.
In contrast, Arianna was the same as ever. Her white coat was far more tattered and soiled than Florence had ever allowed it to get previously, and she had to combat the urge to demand Arianna remove the article of clothing so that it could have a proper wash. But Florence had plenty of her own dirty laundry to attend to; she didn’t have time for Arianna’s any more.
“Florence,” Arianna echoed.
What did they do now? How could Florence hope to bridge the gap between them?
“I require a word with Arianna,” she announced decisively. It was then that Florence took in the rest of the room, those who had accompanied Ari to Ter.0. Louie opened his mouth to speak but Florence snuck in the first, and second, word. “Louie, I appreciate your assistance in helping Arianna get here.” The tone of “assistance” had the requisite bite. “I will discuss matters with you later.”
“I think—”
“I think if you would like whatever end game you’re playing toward, you will vacate this room immediately.” Her tone left no room for misinterpretation. There were many whom Florence would defer to. Louie was no longer one of them.
The man merely smirked. “You have grown, haven’t you, wayward little crow?”
“One part of that was correct, the other incorrect.” Florence pushed aside her smartly tailored jacket, resting her hand on the hilt of one of the revolvers that tugged on a thick belt around her hips.
“Of course. An easy mistake to make.” Louie tapped his cheek, referencing the Raven outline on Florence’s own.
“I wouldn’t test me.”
“Nor I, me.” The skeletal man gave her a long and piercing stare, but it didn’t even scratch the surface of her resolve, much less crack it. She had shot more frightening, powerful people than Louie point-blank. And all she had to do was remind herself of that fact whenever someone—anyone—tried to intimidate her. “We have far more to gain by working together, Florence.”
“As does all of Loom.” On that point, she could agree with the former king of Mercury Town.
Florence watched Louie and his crew depart down the stairs. They were like specters from a former life, creeping up from the shadows of her past. Eventually, she’d have to catch up with Will and Helen, but there was a sort of understanding there that came with old friends who had endured trials together.
Florence had history with everyone in the group, save Shannra. The moonlight-haired woman glanced back at her and gave Florence a hefty wink. They were still taking their time together, still evolving, and Florence couldn’t stop a grin at her newest companion’s antics.
Louie was ever unexpected. As loathe as Florence was to admit it, Shannra had been welcome company on Ter.0 while Florence had been organizing the initial structure of the resistance. Plus, the strange little man had brought Arianna back to her.
Her eyes swept back. Arianna had rested her goggles atop her forehead, at last revealing her striking, vermillion eyes—a bold splash of color in their gray world.
She didn’t know what to say, and it seemed Ari was equally at a loss.
“Walk with me.” The words strummed the tension delicately, rather than snapping it. She didn’t know where she’d take Ari just yet, but movement would help. If she could move her feet, her mind might follow.
Arianna continued beside her in silence, peering periodically through the inner windows at the hollow-structured, densely populated core of the fiv
e-towered hall.
“You orchestrated all this?” Arianna’s tone was thoughtful, almost gentle.
“I—” Florence worked to let go of modesty. “I did.” She stopped, resting her hand on the gritty cement of a window sill, looking over Ter.0. Airships never stopped their assault on the skies and the trikes tore up the dust that had settled across the whole of the wasteland. For all the Dragons had killed, there were still more Fenthri left than Florence could’ve ever imagined. Loom itself was more than Florence could’ve ever imagined.
“Flor, what do you hope to achieve with this?”
Florence turned, searching Ari’s face for some explanation. She had gone from pure admiration to admonishment in a breath.
“Drawing together Loom, the Dragon King only has only to attack one place,” Arianna continued.
It was an argument Florence had heard before, and she could diffuse it like a simple bomb. “He has no more large-scale weapons to do it with. The Revolvers saw to that.” She had never studied in the guild hall proper, but the Revolvers were her own people. The mere idea of their noble sacrifice put a lead slug in her gut. “Separate, we’re disorganized, confused. He can pick us off bit by bit, convert those that remain. We’re under his thumb. Together, there’s strength in numbers. We need all of Loom to see that we are still strong, that we can be one and stand on our own again. We need the king to see that we are not to be underestimated.”
She wished she knew what went on in Arianna’s head. But, unlike all other times when Florence had awaited her mentor’s judgment, she wasn’t jittering with nerves, waiting for a verdict. She wanted Arianna’s approval as a peer, an equal—not as a pupil or child.
“He’s ruthless, Florence. The Dragon King will—”
“You do not need to tell me of his ruthlessness,” Florence interrupted. “I was there, Arianna, when the Harvesters’ Guild fell. If it weren’t for the Vicar Harvester, I would not have made it out alive.”
Arianna moved, crossing that seemingly unbreachable gap between them, present the first moment they’d laid eyes on each other. Her arms closed around Florence’s shoulders and pulled her close. Frozen shock quickly thawed, warmed by the heat that swelled in Florence’s chest at Arianna’s closeness.
The woman smelled of cedar . . . and another floral scent that Florence couldn’t quite place. Had she always smelled like this? There was a sort of newness to Arianna’s embrace that Florence couldn’t quite explain.
“I was so worried about you,” Arianna whispered. “I thought of you every day on Nova.”
Florence’s fingers curled fistfuls of Arianna’s tired white coat. “I was worried for you too,” she confessed easily. “You do have a way of finding trouble.”
Arianna snorted and pulled away, resting her palms on Florence’s shoulders. “A habit you seem to have inherited.”
“There will be a lot more trouble before all this is over.” Florence stepped out of the woman’s reach. She wasn’t a child for Arianna to protect any longer. “Can I count on you, Arianna?”
“Without question.”
The lack of hesitation reassured Florence immeasurably. “The first Vicar Tribunal will assemble in two days’ time. At that point, I’ll need you to discuss the Philosopher’s Box.”
Florence watched Arianna’s face at the mention of the infamous box. Surely, Arianna had learned by now—from Louie, no doubt—that Florence had outed her ability to make the box. She searched for anger or pain. But whatever emotion Arianna was feeling, she kept it guarded. It was a barrier Florence wanted to break down. She wanted to be as close as they had been in Dortam, but as the women they were now.
“About that . . . Louie has requested unbridled access to the schematics for the box.”
Florence’s hand found its way back to the hilt of her gun at the mere mention of the conniving little man. “I assume you refused.”
“No.”
“What?” Florence hissed. She’d taken Arianna to be much smarter than that. “Ari, you know him, and you know what he intends to use the box for. Furthermore, we must keep the mechanics of the box as secret as possible, at least until—”
“If you wanted it to be secret, Flor, sharing its existence with the world was a strange choice.”
“Loom has no other way to stand against the Dragons.” She was not going to allow Arianna to make her feel guilty. “As we are, we will die. As Perfect Chimera, we have a chance. Plus, I saw no other way to unite the vicars after the destruction of the guilds.” Florence sighed, allowing the tension to defuse. She quickly took her hand off her gun, not wanting Arianna to misinterpret the motion. “But we need to make sure that we don’t have splintering factions. That those who are made into Perfect Chimera are loyal to Loom and know what they must do.”
Arianna sighed heavily, her eyes glazed with a familiar, faraway look.
“Don’t let your vision be clouded by the past.” Florence took a step closer to her teacher. Arianna was head and shoulders taller than her, so she had to stand on her tiptoes to be in her field of vision. “I need you here, Arianna.”
“And I will be.” Arianna’s focus was solely on Florence. “You lead, Flor, and I will follow.”
“Good.” That was how she wanted Arianna to look at her, as an equal. Florence believed her, wholly and completely. “Now, what are we going to do about Louie?”
“He served a purpose.” Arianna shrugged. “And as long as he thinks he’s getting access to the schematics, he owes me three more requests. Getting me to you was the first. The means justified the ends on this.”
Florence shouldn’t have doubted her former mentor and couldn’t stop herself from noting the fact that she had been Arianna’s first request. “And if he actually gets around to requesting those schematics?”
Arianna hummed noncommittally. “We can decide then.”
“It’s not like you to not have a plan calculated, with every contingency accounted for.” Florence half-squinted, quizzical. It had been a short period of time on Nova, but could a few months really change a person so much?
She wondered if Arianna could possibly be feeling the same about her. The world had forced its change on Florence as well.
“There are a lot of moving parts to consider. He’s in our pocket for now, and if he comes to demand the schematics . . . Later? Well, war is coming, Flor. There will be casualties.”
“Indeed.” Florence’s mind instantly went to Sophie. “In a world like this, accidents can be quite common.” Deeming the matter of Louie settled—for now—Florence’s mind shifted. “Did you find what you were looking for on Nova?”
“I did.” Arianna nodded. “The Dragon King has two rebellions he’ll need to face. One here, and one up there.”
“House Xin?”
“They’re going to help us,” Arianna affirmed. “As long as we help them.”
Florence would come back to what that meant in a moment. But first, there was a man she wanted to inquire after. A man whose blood flowed through her veins. The only Dragon Florence could stomach thinking of with any sort of fondness. “And Cvareh?”
Ari stilled, so much that Florence couldn’t have been certain even from a hand’s width away that she breathed.
“His sister, Petra, leads House Xin . . .” Arianna began.
Florence leaned against the wall, settling in to absorb all the information Arianna saw fit to impart on her. She listened to tales of the sky cities she could hardly imagine, supported on magic and blood sport. But despite her every effort to pay careful attention to each detail that might someday prove important in her fight against the Dragon King, one question continued to creep up in her mind: What, exactly, had happened between Cvareh and Arianna on Nova?
COLETTA
Usually, after supper, Coletta preferred to retire to the company of her plants. On rare occasions, she treated herself to chilled mead out of a crystal snifter to sweeten the sunset over Lysip. Tonight, in a rare occasion, Coletta treated herself to blo
od.
It had been a busy day, but one full of triumphs. Nevertheless, there was no reprieve for the righteous, and Coletta had a few more items of key importance on her agenda to complete before the candle wax burned out for the day. It was a list mostly comprised of what her and Yveun had discussed, and the ideas he’d seeded in the back of her mind.
That, more than anything else, was what she valued him for. Certainly, his other uses were vast and important. But he was the one to inspire great thoughts in her. He was the muse, not the painter. Fortunately for them both, she had skill enough with the brush.
“Ryu, your nightly libation has been set out in the garden.” Ulia emerged, hands folded and head bowed, from a side hall.
“Return it to the chill box for tomorrow.” The girl had to scamper to keep up when Coletta took an unexpected turn from her usual pathways back to her quarters. “Fetch me Topann. I shall be waiting in the gray receiving room.”
“Gray receiving room?” Ulia repeated, clearly confused.
“Topann will know where it is.”
The orders given, Coletta continued alone.
Toward the top of the Rok Estate was space to store gliders for Riders, as well as the necessary landing and departure areas that accompanied them. But down the slope of the hill, on the side of the estate that faced the edge of the island, was a series of chambers burrowed into the ground below. There, amid the desolate stone walls and dimly lit halls, was another landing area for gliders. One room was connected to the barren track of stone, aptly named for its decor and function.
The gray receiving room was vacant and dark, the air stale. Coletta left the door to the hall open as she walked over to a thin countertop along one wall. It was barren, save a striker.
