9. Cvareh

The train had become a moving tomb, the compartment his coffin. Cvareh had never had much of an opinion on the mechanical boxes that whizzed around Loom like hornets on unknown missions, but he was quickly finding one. He was about to go mad—or maybe he already had. For on the third morning, he found himself debating the fact with his favorite diamond shape in the corner of the ceiling.

There had been no magic whatsoever on the trip. That was a strong and fast rule from the great and always correct Arianna. Sarcasm and eye rolling aside, Cvareh didn’t actually disagree with the mandate. They seemed to have managed to give the Riders the slip by some miracle, and using any magic would only increase their chances of discovery.

He glanced over at the woman known as the White Wraith and wondered if the magic he’d imbibed from her helped mask his own. Or perhaps she had treated the inside of that bunker with some unknown substance and the Riders lost the trail. Cvareh was learning that his traveling companion had a knack for being two steps ahead and one calculation over-planned.

She also had a knack for being more annoying than a no-title upstart determined to gain rank through a back-alley duel. There wasn’t a thing Cvareh could say that wasn’t countered in some way. Honest questions were responded to with bitter retorts. It had him seriously wondering if he had somehow hurt this woman in a past life.

He rested his temple back on the wood by the window. He hadn’t changed his clothes in days—days! And he hadn’t left the room for more than the call of nature, and even that was with an escort. He felt like a prisoner on the run. Which, when he considered it, was almost exactly what he was. Though if he was caught, he’d be killed on sight rather than imprisoned.

The world outside the window had changed dramatically. Dortam was land-locked, nestled in a valley in the center of mountains. For a day and a half, they’d wound around narrow tracks high above sheer cliff faces. Overnight, however, the land had flattened and the train picked up speed as it shot out of tall hills and toward the flattening coast.

They passed towns and small villages that crept up out of nowhere and went running away toward the horizon as soon as the train passed. One or two times, they stopped at a small platform and a few people got off—fewer got on. But everything went as smoothly as butter gliding across a hot pan.

In his moments of frustration, Cvareh bemoaned Ari’s existence. But the farther he got from Dortam, the more he realized his spur of the moment decision to ask her to take him to the Alchemists was a wise one. He knew nothing of this world or its people. He didn’t know why the thin grasses grew so feebly, a pale yellow gray color rather than the vibrant viridescent to which he was accustomed. He didn’t know why men and women buttoned and bundled themselves like swaddled babes, barely showing any skin—often times not even their hands.

He couldn’t tell the highborn from the low. And it was difficult to discern who had wealth and power from those who didn’t. Everything looked much the same as everything else. Ornamentation on rooftops and windows was fine, but not outdone. Nothing stood out, nothing fell apart. New Dortam had been a world away from Nova, and even that was more similar to the cities he was accustomed to than these rural towns.

It was small wonder the Dragon King demanded all Fenthri be marked with their guild rank. Without it, there would be no way to tell them all apart or make sense of their backwards society. He kept such thoughts to himself, of course, as they were certain to upset his present company.

“Four hours to Ter.5.2,” a conductor called from the thin hall outside their cabin. “Four hours to terminal.”

Arianna stood and reached above them for one of the bags. She stacked paper money in perpendicular bundles, counting to herself. Cvareh watched her hands as they flipped through the bills, sequestering out batches before repeating the process. Her fingers didn’t joint exactly the same as his. Cvareh flexed his fingers, unsheathing his claws momentarily.

“What happens if it rips?” He should have known better than to ask the question by now, but silence and boredom had him in their hold.

“Then the bill is void,” Arianna answered as though the fact was obvious.

“So why make the money paper?” It seemed ill advised.

“What else would it be made of?”

“Metal?” Like on Nova.

Arianna paused her counting and looked at him like he was stupid. Cvareh was many things, but he was not stupid and the look made him bristle. “We have more important things to use our metals for than money.”

He stared as she returned to counting, wondering if he had actually said the comparison to Nova rather than thought it.

“Flor, we’ll barely have enough to buy passage on the airship, I think.” Arianna went back to ignoring Cvareh.

“Barely.” Florence picked up on the key word in Ari’s statement.

“I may need to do some work while we’re waiting to get on.” Arianna began laying out the belt and harness he had only seen her remove yesterday.

Cvareh had taken it as a good sign when the woman felt comfortable enough with him being in her presence to remove her weaponry. Though it could’ve just begun to chafe. He shifted to scratch an itch. Gods knew he had reached that point as well.

“Not as the White Wraith, I take it?”

“No,” Arianna affirmed. “I don’t want people to know I’ve left Dortam. Plus, I won’t have time for a job of that scale.”

“People will find out you’ve left Dortam if you do any work.” Florence leaned back into the sofa with a small grin. “Subtlety isn’t your strong suit.”

Arianna glared in the girl’s direction. But unlike the ones she regularly cast Cvareh’s way, this look was light and playful. He’d begun to wonder as the nights slipped on what the real relationship between the two women was. They shared the narrow sofa while he took the upper bunk at night. Florence was too old to be Arianna’s daughter. Sisters, perhaps?

“I’m going to heed my needs before I get all strapped in,” Arianna announced, donning her mask and slipping out the room—careful to not let the door open wide enough that Cvareh would be visible.

“What will she do?” Cvareh asked. Florence looked at him, confused. He’d found a friend in the girl—that was undeniable. She listened to his questions and did her best to answer them. As a result, Cvareh picking her brain had become a quickly adopted ritual whenever Arianna left the room. “For work.”

Florence made a noise of comprehension. “If we’re lucky, just some pick-pocketing. But I don’t think Ari has limited her skills to just that in ages, if ever. I’m sure there will be whispers of the White Wraith expanding her hunting grounds before we board for Keel.”

Cvareh waited a long moment for Florence to expand in more detail, but she didn’t. For once, he decided against probing further on the topic. There was a worried cloud hanging over the girl’s head as she engaged in a staring battle with the tools of Arianna’s trade. It was as though she silently accused them for the habits of their master. While Cvareh found the woman abrasive, rude, and hideous, Florence saw beauty. He wondered where he’d have to stand to make sense of the White Wraith the way the young Fenthri did.

“You two are close.” His observation wasn’t a question, so Florence didn’t answer more than nod. “How did you two meet?”

“I was running.” Florence didn’t pull her eyes away from where they had fallen on Arianna’s gear, but she was no longer seeing anything in the small compartment. “There was a group of us…we all decided we would leave the Ravens together. We would strike out for freedom. But we were caught. Most were killed, some imprisoned.” The girl’s knuckles turned white from where they gripped the seat. Cvareh could hear her heartbeat quickening, the tension in her breath. She was nervous saying just that much. “I happened along Ari on the way and I begged her to take me with her. She agreed.”

Florence pulled herself from her thoughts and looked at him with a forcefully brave smile. The crawling unease he felt at the sight of flat Fenthri teeth was beginning to subside. He stared at Florence’s rounded cheeks and delicate nose, her small ears and dark gray skin. She wasn’t pretty by any stretch of Dragon logic. But a little kindness was helping him no longer find her repulsive.

“I guess she has a habit of helping people who need to get places.”

Cvareh snorted at the girl and flopped back into his prior spot, knowing the woman in question would return shortly. “She’s helping me because she wants her boon.”

Ari returned before another word could be said on the matter. Cvareh watched her work as she began to don her harness once more. He was beginning to have more questions than answers when it came to his boon holder. And, while Cvareh usually found unknowns challenging and thrilling, he looked at Arianna and only saw danger. Judging by the woman’s glares, she didn’t want him looking at her at all.

Ter.5.2 had surprising splendor despite its uninspired moniker. Trains created a patchwork of raised rails across the condensed city. Smaller city tracks bumbled along, weaving in and out with open-style boxes filled to the brim with people. Busy streets hummed below them, their occupants unconcerned with the new travelers the vessel was going to impart upon them.

Women wore corsets, tight around their torsos, which accentuated billowing blouses. Fitted jackets adorned with intricate embroidery and rope embellishments matched plumed hats and wide skirts. Overall, it was a sea of muted colors and industrial practicality. But Cvareh caught glimpses of brightness here and there. A crimson feather, a sky-blue lapel, a bright mint under-sleeve ruffle. Against the demure palette, these snatches of color seemed to shine like jewels in a mine.

“You should begin wrapping up,” Florence reminded him.

Under the weight of Arianna’s disapproving stare, Cvareh obliged.

The train steadily lost speed and the station engulfed them. Metal ribs stretched glass between them, supported by stone columns on each platform. Men and women bustled along the stretches of concrete between trains, heading to and from their destinations.

Cvareh stared in wonder. It felt like the apex of a world he had never so much as considered in all his years of life above the clouds. Six trains were lined up, two more platforms vacant. Conductors shouted and soot-covered workers hastily moved all the necessities required to maintain and fuel the metallic creatures. These were the vessels carrying the lifeblood of the Fenthri to and fro.

“Stay with us.” A hand closed around his forearm.

Cvareh followed the gray fingers up to Arianna’s covered face, cast in a plum shade as a result of the goggles he wore.

“And keep your head down,” she commanded.

He obliged, letting her lead him in tow. Cvareh swallowed his pride, reminding himself that this was not the time to worry about his rank and dominance compared to hers. There weren’t any Dragons to witness him deferring to a Fenthri, at least.

Or so he thought.

“Bloody cogs,” Arianna hissed. “Florence, stop.”

Cvareh looked ahead, where the crowd thinned enough between them and the station’s exit to see what gave Arianna such cause for concern. Four Riders lined up along the exit. Each of them had a long strand of hair falling over their ears, every bead signifying a victory in a duel for their position. The shortest was ten beads long, which was nine beads more than Cvareh could boast had he decided to become a Rider at that moment.

They were all shades of red—elite of House Rok, he had no doubt. He snarled instinctively under the tightly bound mask over his face. It was nepotism at its finest and a statement of where House Rok stood. No half measures, they said; Dragons were either for the House or against it. Those against didn’t last long.

“Get yourself under control.” Arianna tightened her grip on his forearm, startling him back to reality.

Cvareh relaxed his face and his magic with it. He would give them away with his hatred for the Dragon King’s House and it would no doubt play into Yveun Dono’s ploy with sending all his own.

“Florence!” Arianna had taken her eyes off the girl only for a moment, but it was too late. Florence had approached the customs line with them a few steps behind.

“Tickets,” one of the Riders demanded of her. Florence produced them—Cvareh watched as they quivered in her outstretched hand before the Rider snatched them away. “From Dortam? Your traveling companions?”

“Are here.” Florence motioned to Cvareh and Arianna. “Though, I wouldn’t get too close. They have the onset of Necrotizing Fasciitis. I wouldn’t want you to catch it.”

“Do they?” The Rider seemed unconvinced. Cvareh’s heart pounded. “Where are you headed?”

“To Keel.”

“Home of the Alchemists?” The Rider’s scowl deepened. He seemed to look only at Cvareh.

Other travelers continued to go through the line of Riders without problem, a couple questions and they were off. The rider before them was suspicious. Cvareh could practically smell it on him.

“If anyone can help the condition, it will be an Alchemist.” Florence took a step forward and the Rider blocked her path.

“You smell like Dragon blood.” He looked straight over Florence at Cvareh.

“Likely my fault.” Arianna lifted her goggles without missing a beat, showing her magenta eyes.

“Chimera.” The Rider spat. “Filthy thief.”

The Rider had no idea how right he was. Chimeras had a poor reputation on Nova, especially since half of them got the required organs through illicit trade. Trade that Arianna engaged in and clearly took pride in, as her smile was nearly visible from under her mask.

“Get out of my sight.” The rider waved them on in disgust and Florence took an eager step away.

One of the other Riders called over to the man who had been interrogating them, asking what the holdup had been. The words were likely lost on his companions, but Cvareh understood the Royuk clearly.

“Invalids and Chimera,” the Rider answered. “That’s what reeks of foul blood.”

“How can you be sure it isn’t Cvareh, then?” the other Rider jested back in Royuk.

Cvareh ground his teeth together at the use of his name without any titles. He could learn to live with the slight from Arianna, who hated everything, and Florence, who meant well but didn’t know anything. But these were Dragons. This was intentional. It was personal.

“Inept and dirty blooded, sounds like House Xin all right.” The first Rider roared with laughter.

Cvareh twisted and Arianna grabbed for him. But he was too far gone mentally and physically. No one would slight his House like that to his face, not while he drew breath.

The satisfaction of ripping out the Rider’s throat was deep and true, but short-lived. Golden blood poured between Cvareh’s fingers, his magic preventing the rider from healing. The heart would die shortly, from lack of air and blood-loss, but by then the other three Riders would have Cvareh on the ground and vivisected.

He could see Petra’s face, he could hear her words scolding him as though she already knew what he’d done and was magically whispering across worlds to him. His pride had blinded him and he’d lost sight of the long game. In defending House Xin’s honor now, he’d thrown away the possibility for his family’s glorious future.

A dull thunk reverberated up through the Rider’s body and into Cvareh’s hand as a dagger plunged into the man’s heart. Cvareh felt Ari’s magic pulse through the Rider; the dagger twisted, pulverizing the heart before it retracted into her waiting palm. It was the first time he had ever been relieved to see one of those blades.

“You idiot,” Arianna muttered, before she started on one of the other Riders.