by Gin Hollan
"Fine. I'll find him and get him out, but I need a promise from you. Stop interfering with my life and those around me. If you want to talk, just say so." She was getting irritated but couldn’t see another choice. If Graham was being held against his will, Arabeth had to help him get free.
"Where is the fun in that? There needs to be a limit to this so-called civilized behaviour at some point. Besides, I didn't think that was a meeting you would take."
"Where is he?"
// Chapter 22 //
Hesitant, Arabeth looked for another option. Pistols weren't overly accurate at long range, but Melanie was the one the man pointed it at and they were seven feet apart.
"Who are you?" she said, moving to his side, hoping to get a look at his face.
"No one to be trifled with," he snapped.
Walking a little closer, Arabeth caught a look at what he held up. It wasn't a pistol, but he wanted people to think it was. In the moonlight, Arabeth could see the outline clearly and the odd glint of thin pipe. This was a clay extruder, used for pressing materials out in a fine line or pre-set shape. It was most commonly used in creating ceramic coating for wires and other easily broken technology.
"You're a maker?" she asked, talking casually now that she realized there was no immediate danger. She wanted him guessing if she had a defense, so she left her hands in her pockets. Worse than a mugger or highwayman, he was a witness. She had to assess the threat.
He lifted his chin and looked directly at her. "What of it?" he said, realizing he'd been caught. He put the extruder in a pouch on his left hip.
"What brings you out here?" she asked.
"Work, like everyone else, I'm sure." He stayed defensive, and a bit jumpy.
"Just doing a little mugging, to pass the time between jobs?" Melanie said, stepping back.
"Staying fed is all. No one told me that makers out this way were duplicitous deal-breakers."
"Too bad you're making an ass of yourself in front of the one tinker in this area that can help you," Melanie said, lowering her hands.
Arabeth laughed. "I'm sure someone would hire you, if you've got the skill. You're still an apprentice is my wager."
"If he has any skill. Where are you going?" Melanie asked.
"I give up. I'm heading home." He shrugged. "At my age, I should give up and head into the mines while I'm still healthy enough to work. I'll never get good enough."
"You're probably right—this work isn't for you. Makers never look for the easy out," Arabeth said, watching his reaction.
"This isn't the easy out. I came by invitation. I was promised room and board, then was turned away at the door."
"Who summoned you?" Arabeth knew this was one of three things. He'd robbed a maker and was faking, his reputation as a bad apprentice had caught up to him, or … or he was telling the truth. She'd heard of this happening now and then, and few things raised her ire as quickly.
He looked away, not answering.
"So, which is it? Is this all a fish story, or do you just not want to speak out against them?"
"Telling you won't get the job back."
"Exactly, why were you turned away?" Melanie looked confused.
The man looked away, clearly distressed. "I can't say. Maybe the project fell through."
"You're not a thief or a criminal, I think." Melanie continued to pry. "I mean, your attempt at becoming a highwayman was pretty sad."
Arabeth held her hand out. "Let me see your kit."
The man hesitated, looking almost like he'd rather run.
"Just do it, man," Melanie scolded.
Arabeth stifled a laugh when Marble snapped at him, as if to put him in his place. He stepped back, puzzled.
"How long have you been an apprentice? And why are you still an apprentice at your age?" Arabeth asked, opening his satchel. Inside sat various tools of the trade. If he hadn't stolen this bag, he was legitimate.
"I'm not slow, if that's what you're implying. I like working with other people, but haven't the patience to take on my own apprentice. And what is with that fox?"
"So, here you are in the woods outside a strange city, dead broke and starving." Melanie tsked.
She must still be put off by the would-be robbery, Arabeth thought.
Pulling one of the more obscure items out of the man’s bag, Arabeth held it up. If he knew what this was and what it did, he was at least listening when tinkers talked. "Tell me, what is this called, and what does it do?"
"That's a key press—it's for molding a variety of small gears from melted ingots."
She nodded. "And this one?"
"The extruder?" He smiled. "Most of them press out clay and other clay-based alloys for kiln-firing wire and resister housings. If you look closely on the side, mine also shows a precise mineral ratio for the contents."
Arabeth turned to look at the side, eyebrows slightly raised out of curiosity. "Would you sell it?" This was a modification she'd never seen. Marble went and sat near Arabeth's feet.
"I may be at the bottom of the barrel, but I'm not selling the bottom out from under myself. Not to a … woman of indeterminate stature."
"Wait, do we suddenly trust this total stranger?" Melanie's whisper was hoarse, confused.
"I'm thinking that whoever turned him out did so for a specific reason, and that I don't have that same reason. Not yet. He could be a valuable ally."
They stood in silence a moment. The other two seemed to be weighing the outcome of how this conversation was going, both not quite believing what Arabeth implied.
"I mean, I can hire you for a few things and get you work from others, but my guess is that no one taught you to patent your inventions, or leash your tongue."
Their truck sabotage was completed, and he was a witness. They should get back into town before another random person came along.
"Patent? No, what's that?"
Arabeth coughed and put his extruder back in his bag before handing it to him. "Keep this a secret, and any other major modifications you've made to things until we get the design in to the patent office. You could be rich and not even know it."
"Wait, why would you help me?" he said softly. "Why?"
"Why wouldn't I?" She laughed. He didn't know? Time to use her favourite speech. "When one of us grows stronger, we all gain. It's not a contest, after all. To be fair, I don't much like you, but you seem sincere. And you have talent. It would be wrong to let a few bad turns shut you out. The common good is something we must all support, when we can. And if someone doesn't look out for you—"
"Oh, stop her." Melanie groaned. "Stop or we'll hear the whole speech."
Arabeth laughed again. "Can you guess what we're doing out here?" she asked the man. "What's your name?"
"Nate Barrows. If you're a maker or a tinker and you're out here, I can only guess it's an experiment that isn't safe in the city."
"Wait ... Barrows?" Melanie stuttered. "I know that name. Why do I know that name?"
"I couldn't say," he shrugged.
"It'll come to me." She tapped her hip, thinking.
"So, Nate…." Arabeth held out a notepaper and enough cash for a hotel room, food, and a shower. "After you clean up, come to that address. Tomorrow by 6 a.m. I want to see what you're made of and I'm busy later."
She knew something was odd about him, but she wouldn't find out tonight. This almost felt like a setup. That was precisely what made her curious. He turned to go, but hesitated.
"If I'm going to work for you, can I start now?" he asked.
Arabeth laughed. "We're done, but your enthusiasm is noted. Go back to town. Eat. Sleep."
"Oh. Oh, right." His smile was bright as he turned and started walking.
Arabeth leaned toward Melanie, a mischievous tingle running down her spine. "Should you follow him? I need to stay and see where this truck goes."
"That's a good idea, but you want me to go alone?"
"Don't follow closely. Here." Arabeth held her hand out. "I slipped
a tracker into his bag, so you can follow at a good distance. If the dot stops moving, you stop moving."
"Brilliant!" Melanie took the hand-sized display box. "I've always wanted to try one of your gadgets out in the open."
"When you get to town, have Bernie set his crew to watching him until he hears differently from me. In the morning, show him where my old workshop is, not the house one." She paused. "You said you know the name Barrows. Can you remember why?"
Melanie shook her head. "No, but I will. I always remember, eventually." Her eyes followed after him, even as he receded into the distance. Watching the dial, she waited until he'd moved out of sight, then followed.
Arabeth couldn't help feeling apprehensive. Sighing, she went back to the truck and climbed up. There had to be a spot here where she could hide.
It wasn't long before a group of people approached. One of them started barking orders, making the group line up on the road near the truck. It was doubtful any of them could see the truck in the dark. Arabeth wondered what was going on, not realizing someone was climbing up the ladder until it was almost too late.
She ducked back into the shadows, considering an ambush. If they were about to test it on the group, she'd have her answer, but if she was wrong, there would be a whole new set of lunatics running amok.
Peering around the corner from her hiding area, she saw a large man follow the other one up.
"How long until it's ready?"
"It only takes a moment, sir. Normally. It's not responding."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, these lights should come on and they aren't."
Pushing the shorter man out of the way, the big man just grunted at the display. "How is this possible?"
"It shouldn't be. The case is welded shut. I can't...." He stopped and the silence dragged on a moment while he thought. A sudden popping sound startled Arabeth. Slipping back further into her shadow, she waited, finding it hard to hear over her own heart racing. "There it is. Someone's gotten to the wires in the case, sir."
"How long will it take you to repair it?"
"I can't tell in the dark like this. Let's get it back into the lab where I can see what I'm doing properly."
The big man grunted again and footsteps came Arabeth's way. She couldn't hide any more than she already was. Holding her breath, she wanted to jump and run, but the platform height stopped that idea.
He passed her without noticing and opened a narrow door leading into the truck cab. It struck her as good timing, that she could simply stow away and be led into the very place she wanted to go. But would it be too well lit for her to hide, she wondered?
She couldn't back away now—not when she was this close.
// Chapter 23 //
"What are you doing here?" Maralise asked.
"I need to talk to Father. It's urgent." Arabeth stepped inside, waving Sam to follow her in. It was still night, but this couldn’t wait.
The pre-revival birth-of-an-empire styling of her parents’ house always struck her as strange. Yes, her mother was ambitious, but it served a purpose. There was nothing revolutionary in this home.
"What have you done this time?" Maralise frowned.
Arabeth responded with a scathing glance, but moved on. She didn't have time for her sister's vituperation.
"Sam, let's go."
"Where are you going?" Maralise asked.
Arabeth ignored her and hurried up the staircase.
"Wait," her sister called after her. "Stop. You'll get us all killed."
Arabeth stopped abruptly and turned back.
"I'm guessing you'll explain that last comment," she said, slowly walking back down the stairs.
"I can't. You'll have to trust me," Maralise said.
"Is there someone up there with him? Who is it?"
Maralise looked startled. "It's no one you should know about."
"This is important enough to be an exception." Arabeth turned to go back up, but Maralise grabbed her arm.
"Fine. It's the finance minister."
"Finance minister of where?"
"Of here, stupid. Of our country."
"Why are you even awake?" Arabeth wondered.
"Who can sleep with all that's going on? This is the fourth government official to stay here, and this one’s been here a week."
"Why are they up so late?"
Maralise shook her head and yawned. "I’m on call, so to speak. If they need coffee, sandwiches... boring things. Maybe you can be the maid for a while. Get them food and drinks when the bell rings, okay? And you—" She looked at Sam. "Don't even breathe near that door."
He smirked but didn't reply.
"Fine, you go nap. I can't be here long. And if anyone asks, we were never here, understand?" Arabeth said.
"Yes, yes. I just need two hours, okay? Will that suit you?"
That was a bit longer than she'd hoped for, but what choice did she have? "Fine. And you'd better wake when I come for you."
Maralise shrugged and meandered away.
"It would seem your father is not as removed from politics we'd thought," Hicks said.
"My mother must be in her version of a seventh heaven. She lives for days when she can entertain guests like this."
"Why aren't the regular servants tasked, though? Are they not trusted?" he wondered.
"They're still human. My parents would say that it is the right thing to let them continue looking after the family, and let the family look after these guests." She stared at Hicks a moment. He was working with the military. Sure he was a civilian, but wasn't his job to surveil and report?
"Who do you report to, in the military?" She stood back, feet squared.
He didn't react, but returned her stare.
"You don't trust me," he said.
"It's a well-known truth that I don't fully trust anyone." She hated saying it. "Betrayal is the constant subtext of our species."
He didn't react right away, making her wonder if she'd gone too far in her statement.
"If I did trust anyone, it would be you. But I know your loyalties are divided." Arabeth looked away, feeling a blush rise up her cheeks.
He said nothing but slowly reached out and tucked some of her hair behind her ear.
"Look, I'm tired, bordering on exhausted. Just wait here," she said. Did she owe him any explanations? Was his being here a comfort or a burden? Arabeth sat down on a chair.
"I apologize." He rested a hand on her shoulder. "You're right. The world is a lonely, desperate, self-motivated place. But my happiness, if such a thing exists, is deeply entangled with yours. I cannot be at peace if you are not. In that way, I am painfully selfish."
Arabeth blinked. This kind of honesty was unfamiliar to her. That was the most oddly romantic statement she'd ever heard. She looked up and he gave a slight yet unguarded, warming smile. Inside, her heart seemed to take a deep breath, like it had been lying asleep and suddenly came awake. How many years had it been in that coma?
"It boils down to trust. Do you believe me, or am I simply saying whatever I need to in order to stay and potentially learn something that I can report back to my superiors?"
Hearing him say it amused Arabeth. She knew better. "You are an oddly loyal man. That much is true. How do you divide your loyalties and stay sane?"
He shrugged.
"I suspect, and may believe even if you deny it, that you will report this back, but not in any way that threatens me or my family."
"That's a fair assumption, but if it's any consolation, you're about to do that for me."
Arabeth frowned. Why was he talking in riddles? Enough. She came with a purpose. She'd follow that goal and wait for the facts to line up about Hicks.
She closed her eyes, wondering if she should knock on her father's door to let him know there'd been a change of attendant or wait for the room to clear. That seemed the civilized thing to do. Standing, she straightened her clothes out, distressed that she was in such disarray. She needed a bath. Her
hair? How was her hair? She turned to the nearest reflective surface and fixed her hair.
"I'd better let Father know I'm here." She started back up the stairs.
Sam followed, walking quieter than she thought a grown man could. She wanted a look at the soles of those shoes ... later.
Stopping at the door to her father's study, she knocked. The door opened and in the moment it took for her father to realize which daughter was at the door, she saw three other men in the room. She didn't recognize any of them immediately. Naturally they'd be in the larger newspapers, but rarely in the local one. She made a mental note to start reading more widely.
"Arabeth." He stepped out into the hall, shutting the door behind him. "What's wrong?" He looked at Sam. "What brings you here?"
"Mr. Barnes, we're hoping to take a minute of your time. There are a few new developments that need reporting. I apologize for not coming sooner."
"Sam, I keep telling you, call me Eldon. We're on the same team and I don't need to hold you to that level of formality. We fight the same enemy, and that practically makes us family."
“You work for my dad?”
Red colour crept up Sam’s neck as he nodded. “I was forbidden to tell you.”
Arabeth shook her head, deciding to talk about that later. She reached out and rested a hand on her father’s arm. "Do you remember Vic Dane? He’s started experiments involving mass crowd control by altering brain activity via radio waves. But that’s not what worring me. There’s a man from Enasea who’s doing the same thing, and testing them on Blastborn. He’s built a machine that can do it, and it’s large enough to sit on a 35 foot truck flatbed. I disabled it, but it won’t be long until they fix it. I’m sure it would have been headed into Blastborn at first light.”
"Intriguing." He nodded once, then smiled at her. "Why am I not surprised you found it first? You've always been drawn to the most dangerous situations. Sam, are you here to corroborate her report, or do you have more to add? Wait...." He seemed to ponder the potential content of Arabeth's update, then opened the door behind him. "You both should come inside."
