In the Shadow of Lightning

47

Thessa took Ekhi to a park near the hotel. It wasn’t a proper break – just an hour to get away from the hotel and, as Pari had put it, allow her mind to start a new cycle – but she didn’t know just how much she needed it until she was standing beneath a gnarled old olive tree with Ekhi perched on her glove, the sun shining through the branches to mottle shadows upon them both. Her carriage driver and a single Grappo bodyguard stood nearby. She was not going to allow a repeat of that assault at the Lampshade Boardwalk.

Ekhi flapped his injured wing experimentally. It was clear that he would need a lot more time before he could fly again, but he seemed pleased to be away from the mews. He screeched, dancing about on her glove, occasionally trying to fly. Thessa watched for his signal and kept a firm grip on his jesses to curtail any attempts.

“You,” she told him softly, stroking a finger down his chest, “need to let yourself heal before you get too adventurous.”

He screeched back at her and tried to flap.

“I know, I know! It’s good to be out. When I return from the Forge I promise I’ll take you to the countryside. You might not be able to fly for a long while, but you need fresh air just as much as I do.” She wondered if his hunting instincts would flag during his convalescence. Perhaps she could arrange for some injured mice for him to pounce on at their next trip to the park.

She walked around the perimeter of the park, holding her gloved arm high to give Ekhi the best perch, enjoying the way that his eyes seemed to track every little movement. Thessa allowed her mind to wander, wondering if she and Ekhi were now a permanent fixture at the Hyacinth. Was that their home now? She had a partnership and a contract, though only regarding the phoenix channel. She could get rich from the phoenix channel and then break away, starting her own glassworks. She could truly be independent. Or she could romance Demir and secure her future in a different way. It was a decision she would have to make eventually.

Was he even looking for romance? Was she? They’d known each other for so little time, perhaps she was getting ahead of herself with fanciful thoughts of being the next Lady Grappo. She snorted. No, she wasn’t getting ahead of herself. This was Ossa, where romance was a business transaction. Ending up with someone you genuinely liked was a luxury, so why not consider it seriously?

Which brought her back around to Demir. Was he interested in more than a little fun? Would he reject her outright? He was a guild-family patriarch and a glassdancer. He could have his pick of guild-family heirs or foreign princesses; of women who could benefit him more long-term. Thessa waffled back and forth, feeling at a loss. None of this mattered until he returned from the war. It might not even matter until she’d completed and tested the phoenix channel.

That, she decided, would be a good time to test the waters. After she’d shown him just how useful she could be.

Despite her tumultuous thoughts she had a calm, quiet walk, and by the time she returned to her carriage she wished that she could spend the rest of the day out here.

Just a few hours later, Thessa twisted the nuts on a large wooden clamp, trapping the two halves of one of her omniglass rings around the cinderite. She was absolutely soaked with sweat, her hands caked in sand, dust, and ash. The tiny glassworks was blazing hot, even with a window cracked to let in a small amount of cool winter air. She paused long enough to make a slight adjustment to one of the clamps, then continued turning the nuts. Slowly, the two halves of the omniglass ring pressed tightly against the outside of the cinderite. Each turn gave a slight crunching sound, and she lowered her head right up against the cinderite to make sure that it was maintaining its resonance.

“That’s enough,” she whispered to herself, and stepped back to take in the device.

The irregularities on the cinderite had been carefully chiseled away, a process that it had shocked Thessa to discover would actually increase the natural resonance. It really did look like a cannon now, albeit a strange one – a long cylinder propped in an iron frame, with seven translucent omniglass rings held in place by massive wood clamps. It practically hummed, and Thessa refused to let anyone but her remain in the workshop for longer than an hour at a time, lest they come down with terrible glassrot.

“Well,” she said out loud, “it certainly looks distinct.”

Pushed up against one wall was a casing for the phoenix channel that Demir’s tinsmith had made to her specifications. It looked like an armored box, stuffed with cork and asbestos. She would need help to lower the phoenix channel inside, but once she did the entire project should be ready to take straight to the Forge. She wondered how long it was since she’d last slept. On the carriage ride back from the Forge yesterday, perhaps? She was pushing herself too hard and she knew it, but there was nothing she could do. She was practically giddy with excitement.

The phoenix channel was complete. All she had to do now was test the damned thing. If it worked, she could use the Forge to charge thousands of pieces of godglass with every lightning strike. It was not a perfect solution to the world’s shortage of cindersand, but it was a start.

Thessa walked across the garden and into the hotel, where she caught the arm of the closest porter. “Has Demir returned?” she asked.

“No, ma’am. We’re not sure when to expect him.”

Everyone had been on edge since the attack by the Dorlani, but something else had happened and Thessa just could not get to the bottom of it. Porters and waiters talked in hushed tones, scattering when she approached, and Breenen had been in and out all day. Montego was nowhere to be found. Even Tirana had disappeared, rushing off in a quiet conference with Breenen the moment she and Thessa returned from the Forge.

“Do you know where he is?” she asked the porter.

“No, ma’am.” The porter swallowed hard and hurried away, leaving Thessa with a scowl on her face. Shouldn’t he have answered that Demir was still at the front with the army? Very odd. Thessa felt her shoulders slump and wished she’d brought Pari back with her as well. At least then she would have had someone to share this momentous occasion with. Instead, she had nothing to do but walk back into the workshop and stare at the phoenix channel, listening to the quiet hum of its sorcery.

It had sorcery, of that there was no doubt. The question to answer next was whether the sorcery worked. Feeling suddenly very alone, Thessa began to clean up the workshop and prepare all her notes and the phoenix channel for shipment to the Forge.

Demir returned to the Hyacinth to change uniforms and wash the grime of the Maerhorn dungeon off himself. He didn’t know why he bothered. He was heading straight back out to the front again, where he’d soon reek of powder smoke and death. To his consternation, he found the hotel nearly empty and Thessa nowhere to be found. It was a mixed blessing, as his mood swings had taken him from wanting to confess all about Holikan to cold-blooded manipulator and back again several times since his conversation with Father Vorcien.

He felt like he was at a loss for words, and that hadn’t happened to him very often. Even after Holikan he’d always been able to make excuses – to charm and wiggle his way out of damn near anything. And yet he owed so many people so many explanations at this moment that he felt as if his head were going to pop. He thought about that kiss he’d shared with Thessa, and the implicit promise regarding his return. It made him sick. Despite the revelation about Capric, he still felt responsible for the slaughter of Thessa’s family. And he was now promised to another woman.

And if he was to ultimately outmaneuver Father Vorcien, he would need to act like he was promised to another woman. He wouldn’t be able to explain himself to Kizzie or Thessa. The lie would have to be complete, like some overcomplicated mummer’s farce. He would have to tell the hotel staff and all his clients that they would soon be part of the Vorcien guild-family. They were still their own guild-family, of course, and in theory autonomous, but they would all know what his marrying a Vorcien would mean.

And how to negotiate things with Thessa? There was a distinct possibility that he was developing feelings for her. Did she reciprocate? Was she just looking for a bit of fun, or a stepping-stone as she climbed the rungs of Ossan society? Someone of her talents could make a home with one of the great guild-families, or even as an independent operator. Did any of this matter? It would be all over once he told her about Holikan.

He would have to take this all one step at a time. First, he needed to defeat the Grent.

He was just getting dressed when Breenen entered his rooms after a light knock.

“Master Demir.”

“I have to go, Breenen. I’m expected back at the front, and if the latest intelligence is to be trusted I’m going to be late to whatever party Kerite and the Grent have decided to throw for me.”

“I assume that’s not a real party, sir.”

“Figure of speech. Where’s Thessa?”

“She’s gone to the Forge, sir. She left less than an hour ago. I don’t really know the details, but I understand she’s going to use lightning to power the device she’s been working on.”

Demir checked his face in the mirror, realizing he’d forgotten to shave during his bath. Too late for that, he could shave in camp. “Wait, what?” he said, jerking his gaze toward Breenen. “I … No, never mind. I don’t want to know. I don’t have room for it in my head. Have we heard anything from the Dorlani?”

“Not a peep, sir.”

“I don’t like that they got in the hotel,” Demir said, thinking out loud. “Will Thessa be safer or not out in the countryside? The Forge, you say?”

“Yes, sir. For the frequent lightning strikes. I truly hope that makes sense.”

“It does, I suppose. It’s insane, but it makes sense.”

“She had one of those new lightning rods with her, and quite a lot of copper cable.”

“That makes even more sense.” Demir wanted to pull on that thread, to find out what exactly was going on. Piss, he wanted to go up there himself at this very moment. If Thessa truly thought she could use lightning to power the phoenix channel, that was a spectacle Demir wanted to either talk her out of or see himself. Alas, he did not have moments to spare, let alone the day it would take him to get up there and back again. “I don’t want her undefended.”

“She has Tirana and a dozen enforcers with her, sir.” He paused. “I share your worry. Even when the hotel was burgled, we were able to respond quickly and easily. Master Montego took care of the problem in moments. Out there, however…”

“Right. I suppose calling her back is out of the question?”

“It would seem so. She’s very set on her experiment.”

“Take two dozen more and go join them.”

“Is that wise, sir? Leaving the hotel undefended?”

“There will be nothing of consequence here. Besides, it’ll hardly be undefended. We have dozens more enforcers and Montego. Go make sure Thessa is protected. Remember, she’s in charge of the project. Don’t interfere, and give her what help you can. Leave immediately.”

“Yes, sir.” Breenen withdrew, leaving Demir to finish dressing. He stared at his baggy spare uniform in the mirror, wishing he hadn’t lost so much weight since Holikan. “I’m going to have to fight Kerite head-on,” he said out loud. “I might never see this room again.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Not with that attitude, I won’t. Come on, Demir. You can do this.”

Despite knowing he needed to hurry, Demir went down to the family mausoleum, where he stood before his parents’ ashes for several minutes of quiet contemplation. His mother’s bust still wasn’t finished, causing a flash of annoyance. If he was going to die out there, he would have at least liked to see her likeness finished before he did. He wondered who would commission his own bust if he were to die, and took solace in the fact that Montego would take care of everything.

The Grappo would be dead, but at least the hotel and its employees and clients would be cared for during Montego’s lifetime.

He returned to his office, where several new crates of spy reports had been delivered. He didn’t have time to truly analyze them, or even read everything there, but he allowed himself to browse the notes, ledgers, and memorandums, looking for anything that might help him in the fight against Kerite. He was, he eventually realized, dawdling. The fear of facing Kerite on the open field – the fear of his own death – loomed large in his mind, and he was trying to think of anything but that.

He opened the top drawer of his desk and stared down at a little cork box that contained a fresh piece of high-resonance witglass. He knew the resonance couldn’t get through the cork, but he still imagined he could hear it buzzing away, giving him a terrible headache. Could he really risk something so reckless in the middle of a battle? The other day, when he’d been planning the Grappo Torrent, was the first time he’d worn high-resonance witglass in years. Just a few minutes had left his head aching all day. Would he drive himself mad if he used it more?

He snatched up the box and put it in his pocket, then summoned two porters. “Load these crates into my carriage,” he told them, indicating the spy reports, “and have the horses ready in fifteen minutes. Has Breenen left already?”

“About ten minutes ago, sir.”

“Good. Until Breenen returns, Montego is downstairs. He’s in charge of the hotel until one of us gets back.”

“Of course, sir.”

Demir threw himself into the chair behind his desk, trying to clear his head while his carriage was readied and porters moved crates out of his office. This was his last chance to flee – to put on an old tunic, slip out the back, empty his bank accounts, and disappear forever. He would never have to fight another battle, or face Thessa, or explain himself to Kizzie. He could end up in Purnia or Marn or somewhere even farther away, where no one knew anything about him except that he was rich.

It was a powerful compulsion, and he twitched at the thought again and again. Absolute freedom. No responsibilities. No one to hate him or depend upon him. And yet … he couldn’t do it. He was no longer the child he was back at Holikan. Those responsibilities were his, and he would face them head-on. He was a Grappo, and if he was the last, then he would be himself proudly.

There was a gentle knock on his door. “Sir? Your carriage is ready.”

“Thank you.”

“There’s also a missive for you from the Ministry of the Legion. They said it was urgent.” The porter crossed the room to give Demir an envelope with the Ministry’s sword-flanked silic sigil. He tore it open, standing to head out the door, only to pause in the middle of the room. It said,

Demir felt a hard knot form in his stomach. Encircled Harbortown. Not just marching at it from the south, but taking it from all directions. That wouldn’t be such a problem, except for the fact that you could see the Forge from Harbortown. The glassdamned Grent and their mercenaries were going to be right on top of Thessa’s experiment.

“Shit,” Demir spat, and ran for his carriage.