Steelhands (2011)

by Jaida Jones

  “How cheerful you sound,” Roy replied, but his voice was without any humor; it was a sorry day indeed when he got no pleasure from teasing me. “The Esar has been desperate to regain full control over the city. And with so many of the magicians dead after the war, now is the perfect time to strike. It wouldn’t be so difficult to rearrange the balance of power completely, so that there is no balance—perhaps even no Basquiat. It all lines up perfectly, doesn’t it? With everything we know?”

  “We don’t actually know anything,” I told him. “And I’d suggest keeping thoughts like those to yourself before the wrong person overhears ’em.”

  “I do know how to be discreet,” Roy said.

  “I’m talking about Hal, too,” I said—not a pleasant topic to get into with a friend, and surely one that wouldn’t make him too happy with me, but I had to make him aware of the dangers all the same. “You don’t know who that boy trusts or what kind of people he talks to. Could be working for th’Esar himself after everything that went down at the end of the war. You watch out for yourself.”

  “I’m surprised at you, Owen,” Roy replied, sounding genuinely hurt.

  “I’m just saying you don’t exactly have the best track record,” I said, which was nothing but the truth.

  “I find it unfortunate that you are so tainted by my past relationships you refuse to see any goodness in a truly good person,” Roy told me. “Hal should hardly suffer because of my failings.” He sounded caustic now—probably embarrassed he’d shown any kind of real emotion—and I wondered if I’d done the wrong thing by bringing up my concerns.

  But the shit we were discussing was treason. Just talking about it was grounds for imprisonment, or worse. And with all the velikaia hanging around th’Esar these days, maybe even thinking about it could mean the end.

  I should’ve been smart, like Rook and Ghislain, and gotten the hell out of the city while I still could.

  Yet, a dry voice—sounding a lot like Royston’s, once I thought about it—told me that would never have worked. I might’ve hated the responsibility of being in charge most of the time, but I needed it, too. Why else would I have taken the damn lecturer position in the first place? It sure as shit wasn’t because I loved teaching.

  I was the kind of person who needed to be looking after someone—a whole lot of someones, more like. It was the only thing I was halfway good at, and the feeling like I was going to fail and let ’em all down was usually the kick in the ass I needed to get my brain working.

  “If something is happening,” Royston said at last, voice tight, “then the Basquiat needs to be forewarned. We can’t simply have something sprung on us when we’re at our weakest. Though I am loath to accept the idea, and though I have no clue as to what the Esar could possibly be planning, a little dose of mistrust at present does not seem particularly unwise.”

  “He’s building the dragons again,” I said because I knew it was true. It was the one thing he’d done that’d won him the war—or so the people felt—and it’d made him a hero along with the airmen. It’d been his idea, when he was a much younger man and had much larger vision. But now all his thoughts had turned inward, to Thremedon. Without an enemy outside to focus on, he needed to find one somewhere else, and the Basquiat was his next target.

  The dragons had been his weapons against magicians in the first place—albeit Ke-Han ones, not Volstovic. But to him, the principle would be the same; he’d always had trouble with the restrictions presented by a rival group for his loyal bastion.

  It all just made sense in my gut, and if I was wrong, then I’d allow myself to feel pie-faced.

  “I don’t know whether you’re angrier that he’s doing this or that he’s doing it without you,” Roy said, somewhat sharp-tongued. “But I’ll let you sort that personal matter out—if you leave me in charge of mine.”

  “I gotta call the boys together,” I told him again. “We can talk about the rest later, and you can wrangle some apology outta me if it makes you feel better.”

  “Perhaps,” Roy replied lightly. “We’ll see how I’m feeling. We’ll see if I’m still around; if I haven’t decided to abscond with my life to some other, less difficult city.”

  I didn’t want to leave things so uncomfortable with him, but I wouldn’t’ve done a good job of making my case to him just then. It was a bad idea to let Roy stew over a slight—but we both had more important things to worry about, and I just hoped he’d understand I had his best interests in mind when I’d stuck my nose into a place it didn’t belong.

  “I suppose I’ll have to cross-examine you about that young girl with whom I saw you enjoying sweet drinks at another, more appropriate time,” Roy said as I was showing him out the door.

  “I’ll hold you to it,” I said.

  “Just see that you’re careful,” Royston said, tugging on one glove and then the other. His voice was clipped—I knew things were bad when he wasn’t even getting any enjoyment out of teasing me. “It can be … difficult for someone from the countryside to adjust to city life. I don’t mean to sound crass, but it’s the truth. You should keep it in mind.”

  I was surprised enough that I came close to shutting the door in his face. Somehow, good sense kept me from making too many mistakes in a short period of time, though, and I refrained.

  “Okay,” I said instead, though it stuck in my throat. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” Things’d work out with us since they always did; neither of us was the kind of person who had so many friends we could afford to lose the few who managed to stick around.

  The door closed behind him, and I just hoped he wasn’t going to do anything stupid, like unburden himself to someone who might be unburdening themselves right in th’Esar’s private confidence.

  For now, I knew I couldn’t let Laure see Margrave Germaine, no matter how many angry letters they sent. The rest, like what it meant—and me looking out for her this way—I’d deal with later.

  TOVERRE

  Somehow, without my knowledge, Laure had been fraternizing with our Professor Adamo again.

  The only reason I’d learned the truth at all was not due to my own innate skills of deduction but the fact that she’d come to see me at last, as a gesture of peace between us, and told me outright.

  After I got over the initial slap in the face that she had been confiding in someone other than me, I was at least grateful she’d found someone with any kind of standing who was willing to help her, though I sincerely hoped her good looks had nothing to do with that man’s eagerness. Hero of Volstov or no, there were some things that were never acceptable, and I did not care if he had twenty statues dedicated to him throughout the city. Laure’s honor was far more important than anyone else’s reputation.

  In private, I was actually relieved she had unburdened herself to me. We had never gone for very long without speaking to one another, and I wasn’t at all certain how to mend relations if too much time passed. Quite fortunately for both of us, they never had yet.

  At first, I was too hurt to absorb a great deal of what Laure had to say, but I perked up when I realized what she’d told Professor Adamo—namely everything—and what Adamo had told her in return.

  In other words, he intended for her to seek the help of one of his fellow airmen.

  “One of ’em works in a hat shop—or he owns it, I guess; I’m not real sure,” Laure had told me, looking as though the information didn’t much matter to her one way or the other. She said it so casually that I wondered if she even understood just how impressive this was. Given her interest in the dragons, I would have thought she’d be far more excited. “Name’s Luvander, and that’s where Professor Adamo says I’m supposed to meet him. Never been, but I thought maybe … Do you know where Yesfir is?”

  I’d been pacing the room, but at that I whipped around so quickly that it was clear I’d startled her.

  “You mean that popular little boutique along the Rue—the one using peacock feathers in its display?” I asked.
>
  I had heard of it—I knew exactly where it was—but I’d never set foot inside. All the most fashionable hats were for women, though I’d seen that Yesfir also had an immaculate collection of gloves on display. The detail work, the stitching, and the differently colored leather, not to mention the caliber of customers I saw within, were enough to make me burn with desire every time I passed by.

  It was like a dream, deposited onto the Rue for my very own enjoyment. And it was run by an airman.

  This was what I’d waited for, the culmination of all my time in the city, wandering through the Amazement and—admittedly—spying on the glamorous citizens traveling in and out of the theaters. On our very first day in Thremedon, we’d all been deposited like so many bales of hay in front of the statues of the airmen. They were Volstov’s heroes, but more specifically, they belonged to the city, no matter how much some people in the countryside were fascinated with them. Thremedon herself had adopted the Dragon Corps, and now they were as much a symbol of city life as the Basquiat or the Esar’s palace. I had admired their sharp stone noses and their square-cut jaws from afar, the same as everyone else, and I had been lucky enough thus far to have even met one of them, despite how grim and crass he tended to be.

  Laure had been drawn into his confidences, and invited to meet his friends. I wondered—as I unquestioningly invited myself along—if I might even be able to speak with this Luvander the way I’d never dared to do with Professor Adamo. At least it was clear he had far better taste than his ex–Chief Sergeant.

  The idol worship I’d felt when I had first arrived in the city—staring up at those noble faces, imagining all their exploits—had returned tenfold. At last, there might be something in Thremedon that lived up to my wildest expectations.

  If I thought about it too long, I was bound to be sick with excitement—especially considering Laure hadn’t even suggested I would be accompanying her.

  By contrast, Laure seemed neither to understand nor care about the enormity of our situation. It was as though she had received a gilded invitation to dine with the Esar and Esarina, and here she was, behaving as though it didn’t mean anything.

  She was a smart girl, infinitely more capable than I was when it came to all sorts of things, and yet I had to wonder over her priorities.

  There was a sobering element amidst all my excitement, however, and one that made it easy for me to keep my feet firmly planted on the ground. Laure had told Professor Adamo about everything, and he had believed her enough to offer her his protection—which made the matter very serious indeed. Whatever was happening to the students in the first-year dormitories was a grave enough matter that someone like Adamo hadn’t simply brushed it off as hogwash. And, since he appeared above all things to be an extremely pragmatic man, this gesture surprised me. He hadn’t scoffed at Laure, as I had assumed someone in a position of his authority would have done, having seen all the dangers of war firsthand.

  And while I had my own personal opinions on the subject of Adamo’s feelings toward my dear fiancée, he did not seem the type to chase after flights of fancy simply because he liked the person doing the fancying.

  “So …” Laure said slowly. “You’re being awful quiet.”

  “I’m picking out what to wear,” I explained, which was partly true. “And what you should wear, for that matter.”

  “I don’t even know where to start,” Laure said.

  “Don’t you want to make a good impression?” I asked. “They are airmen, after all. And one of them owns a hat shop, which means he has some knowledge of fashions.”

  “Figured you’d want to come with me,” Laure said, playing with a loose thread at her sleeve.

  “Did you also figure there would be no talking me out of it?” I asked, readying myself to argue my position. “I can hardly send you—a beautiful young woman—to consort with two rugged ex-airmen all on your own. You are my fiancée, and even if you were not, such a rendezvous would hardly be proper—”

  “I’m agreeing,” Laure told me, “because I’m not in the mood for arguing.”

  And, I suspected, because she might have been intimidated after all. Bastion only knew I was. Even if she did not show such things the same as I did, the tight set of her jaw and the dark look around her eyes made it clear to me that she really did know what an incredible honor this was—and also, the gravity of the situation was weighing upon her more than she let on.

  I was glad she’d seen my side of things so quickly. I couldn’t very well allow her to go barreling into the belly of the beast without some manner of masculine protection. Even if all that protection amounted to was someone like me, it was my duty as her betrothed—but more importantly, as her friend—to stand up for her best interests, no matter the consequences.

  I knew she trusted Professor Adamo, and I supposed I had to as well, but things were progressing far too quickly for my liking. I didn’t have any control over it happening, either, which only made the impression of impending drama that much more intense.

  One good thing had come out of it, at least: Laure had finally decided once and for all not to return to that beastly physician. We still couldn’t say for certain whether that had been the cause of everyone’s fever, but it didn’t seem prudent to take the chance. I still got the shivers whenever I thought about Gaeth’s room, and not just because of the half-eaten sandwich we’d left behind. No doubt it was well on its way to becoming a sentient organism by now. At the very least, it was a homing device for all kinds of vermin. The dormitories would soon be crawling with bugs and mice.

  Yet that did not frighten me as much as my wicked imagination, which ran in every direction the moment I thought of Gaeth—wherever he was. However he was. All my feelings for hats, pestilence, and airmen aside, this was a serious matter.

  Gaeth’s disappearance had been hard enough; I couldn’t imagine what I would do if the same thing happened to Laure.

  “What are the conditions for my attendance?” I asked, searching her face to see if the same worries plagued her. She looked tired, I realized, but in relatively good spirits. I gave her arm a little squeeze, and she patted my hand.

  “Don’t spend too long figuring out what to wear,” she said. “And don’t make me change, either. I don’t wanna waste any more time than I have to.”

  As a favor to her, I didn’t spend nearly enough time choosing a scarf and gloves. But I knew how she hated waiting around when she could be stomping purposefully through the streets like one of the proud horses I’d seen drawing carriages—though, she always informed me, these Thremedon show beasts weren’t nearly as fine as the ones she’d helped to raise back home.

  “I wonder if he’s called all the airmen together,” I said, checking myself one last time in the mirror. Despite all my preparations, Laure was still more striking than I was—and she hadn’t even brushed her hair.

  “As far as I know, it’s just Luvander,” Laure told me, taking my arm as we passed through the door outside. “At least I think that’s it. You know all their names, don’t you? You must.”

  “Luvander is the owner of the hat shop,” I told her, choosing to be helpful instead of goggling in shock at her lack of knowledge. Obviously, in true Laure fashion, she’d paid far more attention to the dragons than to the men who’d been their pilots. Everyone knew only five of the corps had survived past the end of the war. One of them was our professor, the only one Laure seemed to have much interest in, and two had quit the city after the war—I’d learned a few useful things listening to city gossip, alongside all the rest. The fourth was Luvander, proprietor of the famed Yesfir haberdashery, and the fifth was that poor creature with the metal hands, a favorite topic among current city playwrights.

  “I can remember a few of the names,” Laure admitted sheepishly. “Adamo, of course, and Luvander—though to be fair, he’s the one I always used to forget. And Rook, of course. And someone that started with a ‘B’…”

  “Are you thinking of Balfour?” I as
ked her, as we made our way down the familiar path of the ’Versity Stretch. The air was cold enough that it was bound to snow, and I hid a series of loud sneezes behind my handkerchief.

  “That’s the one!” Laure said, snapping her fingers. “I knew it couldn’t be Bald-something.”

  I gave her a look of horror, then quickly pulled her to one side of the street before she could step in the steaming yellow puddle we passed.

  Not everything in the city was as glamorous as I’d hoped, but I’d come to appreciate its shortcomings all the same. As long as you looked before you leapt, you could avoid most of her unpleasantness.

  And, as I understood it, this part of the city was far cleaner than Molly. I shivered when I imagined what it must have been like living there, and Laure—bless her heart—put an arm around me, as though I were the one who needed comforting.

  Yesfir was just a little way down the Rue, past the square where the airmen’s statues stood, and a few shops down from the hat shop in front of which Laure and I had nearly been robbed. It seemed like ages ago, but it had only been a bare few months. Despite that, the memory was still fresh in my mind, and I suspected the same was true of Laure. I even caught her looking suspiciously up and down the street—either for fear we’d meet our thief or out of desire for revenge. One could never be certain with Laure, and I didn’t envy the poor fool his position if she ever did catch sight of him.

  “Ah, this is it, I believe,” I said, to get her attention.

  She tore her eyes away from a man innocently shoveling a pile of old snow, turning instead to gawp at the store windows with her mouth wide-open.

  “How many birds you think went into that display?” she asked, tsking in awe. “Do they slaughter ’em, or do you think Luvander’s got a whole bunch of naked Ke-Han peacocks in the back?”

  “I give them little scarves and hats in the winter, actually,” said a blond man standing in the doorway of the shop. He appeared more amused than offended by Laure’s question, which was fortunate, and I appraised him from the corner of my eye so as not to be rude. He was wearing a handsome vest with a green scarf wrapped around his neck. However, he was not wearing a coat, so I assumed he must have come from inside the shop, perhaps to grab a breath of fresh air.