Between the Lines, page 9
“A cypher?”
“A secret code,” Mac said plainly. She took off her glasses and pocketed them. “I’ve used them before with my research.”
Mac rarely talked about the time before she was a turner. Fiona played with her scarf, raising an eyebrow. “What sort of research did you need to create a secret code for?”
Mac laughed, turning away to refill a mug. “A valuable one. Nuts to bolts, Fiona, if you didn’t hide your research someone was going to come along and steal it. Practically guaranteed in the Court.”
“Do you miss the Court?” Just because she didn’t miss her pre-inking home didn’t mean everyone hated their existence before becoming a turner.
“Most days.” Mac shrugged, grabbed another wet glass, and started drying it. “I know someone you can talk to about that cypher. Floats out there in Airmire. Captain Henrietta on the Big Betty. You tell her Mac sent you. And that I’m still waiting on my blasted cocoa.” Airmire was in Mistral, the page of air.
Fiona smiled and grabbed Mac’s warm rag-laden hand, squeezing it. Whatever ups or downs she had, it was nice to know a person who always felt safe to her. “Thank you, Mac.”
“You keep coming to see me,” Mac said, pointing with the rag.
Fiona nodded. Her eyes burned, but she blinked to clear them. “Mind fixing me a Fallen Bubble?”
Mac tipped her head to the side but nodded, working to get started on the drink. The back wall was covered in silver tubes that connected in crisscrossed lace patterns across the ceiling. Where they started was a mystery, but Mac’s own concoctions flowed out of each one and into the goblets and glasses she left underneath them. Valves and levers with labeling in faekin language could be used to divert the cocktails to each individual table in the place, should Mac be too busy to wait on patrons one by one. It was a system that only she knew how to work. Fiona had tried to sub in once in her earlier days in Spine and poured a valuable amount of liquor on waiting patrons instead of glasses at the bar. She knew better than to lend a hand again.
She swiveled around to survey the room. Sitting across the room opposite from the jackets and Dodger was Fali, the Follower of Larrakane elephas she’d met the day before. Catching his eye, she nodded her head and smiled. Interesting that he would be here. He stood out in his full church regalia, but perhaps that was what he wanted. Did the Followers have someone scoping out the jackets, or was it the other way around?
She walked toward Fali, easing her attention across the variety of conversations happening in the room.
“Do gnomes even go on vacation?” said a human man. “They can’t even see if there’s more than a candle’s breadth of light I thought.”
“Everyone deserves a break now and again,” said their smilodon companion.
He nodded his agreement. “You heard about the new pagemark to Kerus? Supposed to take you to this giant abacus thing.”
“No, but I’m not surprised. The Guild has been hot to create a new outpost there. They’re basically giving away paper to get more pagemarks set up in hostile areas. Blaze was high on the request list before the fire went out.”
Intrigued by their discussion, Fiona failed to notice she had hovered closer to Petronia’s table.
“What do you want?” the tigress grumbled.
Pivoting to the glaring woman, Fiona crossed her arms and said, “Nothing at all. Walking around freely, minding my own business.”
“So you know how to do that now, huh?” Petronia scoffed. “Thought it would’ve taken a few more knocks for you to learn.” She leaned back into the leather-and-wood chair, slinging an arm off the side, and glanced away.
Fiona took a breath, unlocking her arms and relaxing. She would not let this woman get to her. “Some of us have more sense than others.”
“Whatever you have to tell yourself, meddler,” she said and took a loud gulp from her mug, eyebrows raised over the rim.
“I was not meddling. You were accosting that poor faun just because you couldn’t be patient.”
Petronia snorted. “Some of us can’t sit around and get kickbacks doing the nicey-nicey work.” She pointed at Fiona. “Some of us have to do whatever it takes to survive.”
“Excuses. That’s a choice you’re making. That has nothing to do with other people or how you should treat them.”
“Like you would know.” Petronia bared her teeth, tiny white knives. Her eyes were tight, but her tail swung to the side, twitching.
“Well, if I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?” Fiona said. They were staring eye to eye. Fiona recognized the signs of determination and grit in Petronia. There was something there, but what?
Petronia blinked. She seemed about to say something when Mac slid over to them, the scent of citrus like a cleaver between the two.
“Everything swell over here?” she said in her breezy voice.
“Just finishing my drink,” Petronia said gruffly. She threw paper down on the table and drained her mug in one gulp.
Any chance to continue talking with the tigress was lost. Everyone’s eyes were on them, and Fiona realized they must’ve been making quite the scene for Mac to come over. She pushed down the reaction to palm her face and smiled at Mac. “Just having a nice chat.”
“Well, good. Next time, you two might want to do it at a lower octave.”
Petronia pushed past the two ladies, bumping into Fiona and knocking her off balance. Fiona scowled inwardly, angry that for a brief moment she had actually wanted to understand this bully.
“Be seeing you,” Petronia said under her breath.
Before Fiona could reply, the tigress was already making her way through the door, tail high, head held even higher.
Fiona shrugged, pulling her scarf a little tighter around her neck and shoulders. What dark-edge nightmare had that been? She looked over for Fali, but in the midst of her conversation with Petronia he had vanished. Sighing, she made her way back to the wooden bar, avoiding the watching eyes and whispering mouths.
“Here you go, Thorne.” Mac placed a large fishbowl of a drink in front of Fiona. It was a shocking bright blue and had tiny puffy clouds floating in it. “Suppose you want to tell me why you’re drowning yourself in this drink and starting arguments in my house? What’s going on with you?”
“It’s just been a very long day, Mac. A very long day.” Fiona drank from the fishbowl and then sighed. Its smell was cloying but in a familiar way that she liked. The tartness of the puffy clouds mixed with the sweet liquor on her tongue, causing small bursts of delight within her. It gave her a small rush of energy and a feeling of weightlessness that she couldn’t seem to find for herself today.
“All the paper in the Book if you tell me what’s got you looking so far away.” Dodger’s voice came up behind her.
Spinning around, Fiona laughed nervously, caught in a moment of vulnerability. “It’s me unfortunately. But let’s forget about that. I believe I owe you a whiskey.”
“What in the dark edge did I do to deserve such an expensive drink from you?” Dodger said, sitting down on a stool next to her.
Fiona waved to Mac, who got out a mug. “Well, for one, you actually listened when I talked to you about the elemental smuggler instead of shoving me off like some of your cohorts.”
“I’ve learned that you’re stubborn. I was just trying to head you off from relentlessly going after me.”
“Mm-hmm,” Fiona said. She knew Dodger wouldn’t give in to his wanting to actually help her. She let it drop. “Did the rest of the creatures get to their pages safe?”
Dodger nodded and sipped at the whiskey Mac placed in front of him. He wrapped his paw around it and glanced at Fiona. “I saw you earlier leaving the district with a familiar-looking flame sprite.” He stated slowly, “Care to explain yourself?”
Blast. Of course Dodger would pick up on the flame sprite being connected to the ambush on the smugglers. Well, she was doing nothing wrong. Fiona shrugged. “What’s there to explain? Soots wanted to stay with me, so I said they could.”
“Soots?” Dodger pushed the whiskey away, saying, “C’mon, Fi, you know you can’t name the thing.”
Fiona leaned back, crossing her arms. “They’re not a thing, Dodger, they’re a creature. A creature with a will of their own, mind you. They asked to stay. I couldn’t say no. You know Blaze isn’t doing well.”
“Spine isn’t where it belongs. It could be a danger to itself and others. Turners have training to acclimate to life outside their pages. Elemental creatures should visit, not stay, unless they go through the Guild process.”
“Oh, it’s been fine,” Fiona lied lightly, pulling on the metal straw. “Hasn’t been an issue at all.”
“Look.” He turned to face Fiona directly. “I was told that everything from the elemental smuggler had to go back to where they lived. That includes the flame sprite.”
“The Guild can’t decide against the creature’s wishes. That would be ridiculous,” Fiona scoffed. Even the Guild wouldn’t try to impose their will on every page. Did they learn nothing from the Court of Copper fiasco?
“I don’t have a say in what the Guild decides,” said Dodger quietly.
“Don’t you?” Fiona reached out and placed a hand on his cloak-clad shoulder. “I’m not going to argue with you. It’ll get us both nowhere. We both think we’re right. Besides”—Fiona tried to lighten her tone in light of his anxiousness—“what I really want to know is, is there a Guild investigation into Blaze dying?”
“You know I can’t discuss Guild business with you,” he said rotely.
“True, but you can discuss lack of Guild business.” Fiona dropped her hand and rubbed it against the condensation on the fishbowl. “I know there hasn’t been a regulatory jacket in Blaze for weeks now. What gives?”
Dodger glanced around, a motion that gave Fiona a small amount of alarm. If Dodger was worried about being overheard, perhaps there was something going on besides lack of oversight. “I asked Gilded Evenhell about that, actually, before the elemental smuggler business. There are other higher pressing matters.”
Unbelievable. “Higher than an entire page possibly dying out?”
“It’s not Travel Guild business,” Dodger said and pursed his lips. His tail twitched.
Fiona pushed through, heedless of his discomfort. “It should be! We’re the only ones with the ability to go to these places. What happens if the entire page is cooled? What about the things living there?”
“I agree. I worry about it too. But I trust the Binder and the Gilded leaders are doing what they know is best. They’re better than my old page leaders by a mile.” He tried to smile.
“You’re a good person, Dodger, but your trust is misplaced. The Guild doesn’t do anything that doesn’t benefit them.”
“This is the problem with you, Fi,” he said, agitated. “You only believe in yourself. You don’t see that other people try hard too, you know. We’re all just trying to do the best we can.”
Fiona stammered, surprised by Dodger’s outburst, “Look, I didn’t mean to imply—”
“But you did mean it. You did. I get that you don’t want to be part of the Guild, or choose not to be. Whatever you tell yourself about them. But that’s me too. I’m part of the Guild, Fi. I’m a jacket. Maybe figure out how to believe in something other than yourself. Or keep working alone with no one to back you up. It’s up to you.” He got up and moved away from her, then put some paper on the bar. “For the whiskey.”
Her stomach tightened in a knot. He didn’t understand, she didn’t have the luxury of putting her faith—her future—in untrustworthy organizations like the Guild. “Dodger—”
“There’s no sense arguing. It’ll get us both nowhere, right?” he said, raising a brow, and walked away from her out the door.
Fiona watched him leave feeling like she wanted to hide. She turned around to the eyes staring at her and said in a shaky voice, “Oh, mind your own business for once.”
She tossed her scarf over her shoulder and stormed out into the windy street of Spine, winding her way home. She’d taken enough punches today. If she’d wanted to feel awful about herself, she would’ve visited her mother.
“I just need one day where I’m not gasping for my life,” said Fiona as she looked over the materials for her turn to Mistral. Putting off dealing with the fire elementals had been an easy choice when she woke up. She’d have to get more supplies and she was already tapping into what the druids had given. “Breathing potions don’t just show up on your doorstep for free every day,” she muttered.
So Fiona decided to start with Mac’s lead. She hadn’t been to Mistral in a couple of months and was looking forward to it. It would give her a chance to catch her breath, ignore the inkling of guilt she felt for upsetting Dodger, and get some minor movement on the smuggling case at the same time. She pulled out her ornithopter, its intricately folded wings and crinkled brown leather over shoulder straps dusty from being stuffed in the back of the closet. Cleaning it off, she coughed as the motes rose into the air. A sense of profound joy came from Soots, who was watching her from a lamp on her night table near her bed.
“Ha ha, yes, very funny that I got dust up my nose.”
Soots danced around in the lamp. :Leave!:
Fiona bent to look at the flame sprite. “I’m sorry, but I can’t take you. I don’t think you’d do well. The winds can get pretty high there. But I promise once we figure out something to protect you, you can go.”
Sadness emanated from Soots and they flew out to Fiona. She put out the palm of her hand, feeling Soots’s warmth hovering above it. They were doing much better at controlling their temperature. Soots still couldn’t land on her without protection, but the heat wasn’t searing.
Fiona sighed. “I’ll make it a short trip, promise. And I found another stack of papers for you to chomp through.”
A faint noise like a thump on wood caught her attention. Fiona stopped what she was doing and listened intently. The sound came through the window again. Peering out past her small porch, she didn’t see anyone. Was someone throwing pebbles at her house?
Still holding the ornithopter, she strode down the stairs two at a time, through the office, and threw open the front door, hoping to catch whoever it was off guard. There stood Gaili, hand raised and eyes wide.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she said, glancing down and away. Her small black horns were barely peeking above her bright rosy-pink hair, this time curled to perfection all over her head. Her clothing, a vibrant emerald-green satin bodice decorated with a warm cream brocade in a floral vignette, was tightened over a cream satin dress that puddled silkily toward her golden hooves. The Gaili of today was a bit softer in appearance, no oily smudges on her face or leather apron dusted with who knew what.
Fiona took a step back taking in the faun’s gorgeous appearance and smiled lightheartedly. “You’re hardly disturbing anyone with that knock. Next time feel free to give it a big bang. Come on in.”
“Oh, I didn’t want to bother you. Just wanted to drop this off.” She motioned to a small chest on Fiona’s doorstep.
“Nonsense, in, in.” Fiona opened the door wide, waving for Gaili to enter.
Slowly, the faun did with a small smile, her head held low. “I just finished up the sprite’s suit and thought I would drop it off. I’m sorry.”
Fiona closed the door and moved to the stove. “You finished it in one night? Whatever are you apologizing for?”
“For dropping by unannounced, of course. I know it’s rude. I just got so excited, and—” She stopped, wringing her hands. “I can just leave it here. Or…”
Fiona handed her a cup of warm coffee. Just like an inventor to work all night. She grinned up at her. “You’re here now, and I’m not the least put out. I can also give you the pitiful token I got from Blaze yesterday.” Fiona grabbed the branch from the shelf she had placed it on. “It’s really not much, but hopefully it’ll help you make some more of those jelly breaths.”
“This is excellent!” Gaili said, rubbing her fingers across it. “Still warm even. I’m sure I can crush this up and use it.”
“Excellent. I’ll probably need more in the coming days. But let’s move on to more entertaining matters. Show me what you have. We’d love to see. Soots!”
Soots bobbed down the stairs and toward Gaili. Happiness radiated from the sprite, and Fiona tried to ascertain Gaili’s reaction. She didn’t seem to notice the sentiment coming from them at all. Odd.
Gaili placed the chest on the desk and shrugged off her pack. She pulled a small flat swatch of a slinky metal material from the chest. “It’s flexible so you can move into any position you want. It opens here but clasps on the outside, so there are no entry points.” She opened one side of it to show how it expanded like a pocket. “You’ll need help putting it on. But it’s made out of a new material I helped to create, so you shouldn’t worry about burning yourself by touching it. Though it will get very warm of course. I couldn’t help that part. It’s probably not right anyway. I should take it back and try again. I’m sorry to…”
Fiona took it gently from the faun’s hand and put her fingers inside of it. It was incredibly light, almost like chain mail but so very different. It was intricately made, and she was eager to see it work.
Gaili watched, her rambling ceasing for the moment as Soots flew into the opening. Fiona latched it with the small clasps. She could see the flicker of flames burning inside in small movements but no heat. A grin spread across her face. “Gaili, this is absolutely perfect. I can feel their heat but it’s not burning. And they are so happy about it.”
When Fiona let go of the suit, Soots flew up into the air. It bobbed once, twice, then landed on Gaili’s shoulder. :Friend!:
Gaili gasped. “You can talk?”
“I guess you haven’t been around a lot of elementals?” Fiona said, sitting back down.
“No, not as much,” Gaili said, trying to stand still.
