Tinkermage (Book 2) (18 page)

“You must be joking,” Lili said.

So focused was Nikselpik on his food and the problem at hand he hadn’t noticed Lili or the others enter, but she and Madesa and Kalaquick had all pulled some chairs in from the adjoining room and had been evidently sitting and listening.

“Joking? Enlighten us, Lili. Because last time we discussed Raulnock back at Bombrick’s you were one of his biggest proponents.” He regretted the words as soon as they’d left his mouth. Her face reddened and her eyes started getting wet, and he knew it was a troll-faced thing to say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so cross. You couldn’t possibly have known then the extent of his corruption. I apologize.”

She sniffed but managed to continue. “I think you have the right idea, thinking he might be working for the other side given everything that happened to you. Seems that amorph witch lady thing is tough as… well, she’s tough. You can’t be blind to how ruthless he is either. I… I think there’s a lot more we’ll find out about Raulnock as time goes on. As things get uncovered. His business dealings. He’s not right in the head, especially after what he did to your sister.”

Nikselpik was confused. “About the trial? Yes, everyone knows how the former First Wizard falsely imprisoned my sister and tried to publicly shame her. Again.”

Lili deflated in her seat, her mouth turning into a frown. “You don’t know? Nika never told you?”

“Apparently not. I’m learning new things every hour, it seems. What did my sister not tell me?”

Lili gulped and then proceeded to relate Niksabella’s account of what had happened while Raulnock held her captive. The night he’d taken the blackjack to her. Her night of sheer misery as she lay on the thin mat in her jail cell and how Ada had come to heal her. It was a system of torture and extortion and wickedness.

Nikselpik’s ire rose with every word of the telling, and by the time Lili had finished, his fists were clenched tight on the table.

“To be fair, your sister got a little bit of her own revenge.”

“Well, it seems that at the time of Niksabella’s escape, when Miss Jancy broke her free, your sister managed to beat Ada senseless with a sprocket box.”

Nikselpik sighed in pained relief then let out a small chuckle. Yes, that was certainly a small victory.
You’re getting tougher by the day, sister. And deceptive too.

Madesa scooted to the edge of her chair. “I don’t understand why Nika didn’t tell you, Nik.”

Kalaquick was in the process of lighting his pipe, one of the short ones he called his breakfast pipe. “Because she knew Nik would lose his mind, probably curse himself for not finishing Raulnock when he had the chance.”

It was true. He would have finished Raulnock off on Crater Field or as soon as he could. There would have been no quarter given. “She’s all the family I have left in the world. In case you didn’t notice, us Nurs are not widely dispersed nor particularly well-suited to producing offspring of any kind.”

Lili crossed her arms, looking a bit disappointed. “Yes, hard to imagine what the world might be like with two of you running around.”

“Exactly my point, dear Lili.” He had to give it to Niksabella. She’d done a fine job keeping the information from him, knowing exactly what he’d do to Raulnock if he found out.
Well, I know now, sister. And nothing will save that bastard next we meet.

A strange and distant itch worked its way up his left arm from wrist to elbow, a ghost of his none-too-recent past. He ran his hand up his robe sleeve, nails over skin, scratching furiously. Damn, even though all the sores were healed and there wasn’t a single creature crawling around beneath his skin, the bugs still called. And he knew the score of this battle from all the times he’d tried to quit before. The first week or two would be surprisingly easy, with hardly a sign that he’d ever been addicted. His health would improve dramatically as well, fooling everyone into thinking he was all but cured. Funny how his addiction was a passing thing to everyone else, a bump in the road, when, to him, it was a mountain. And as time wore on and Nikselpik realized that nothing in life was quite like the rush of having a bug in his arm, he’d eventually find his way back to the Magi Den to start the cycle all over again. He knew it was much more complex than that, but to try and analyze his own psyche was a recipe for doom.

It was simple; he would always be an addict.

No. Not this time. This time is different. I have so many others to think about. I have a responsibility…

Partly to distract himself and partly because he thought Lili might be on to something—specifically, his own train of thought—he pressed her. “So what do you think is happening? What is Raulnock’s motivation for these stunts?”

Lili seemed surprised that her opinion might be taken seriously, and she hesitated before going on. “Well, I think he’s trying to draw you out, away from your protection, away from all your wizards and guards. Away from the ones who love you.” She wiped at her eyes. “Now, from what I’ve heard of these amorph things, from what you said, there seems to always be a fight for control in their heads. Like with Ribbon. So I’ll bet that exact thing is going on inside that thick, cruel noggin of his right this second. I don’t care how powerful that witch creature is. Raulnock is just about the cruelest of us gnomes, so I’ll bet he’s giving her a good fight.”

“That all makes sense, but what of their higher calling? To destroy us all, to infest the entire continent of Sullenor? That’s something I felt as well.”

“It don’t think that matters right now. They both want you dead. All of this other stuff…” she waved her hand around at nothing, “… it’s just a game to them.”

Nikselpik thought about it as he chewed, and then he addressed Tenzic. “Send a message to Elwray. We’re going out to get the bastard.”

Tenzic shook his head. “We have three scryer patrols scouring the streets now. They are tuned to Raulnock. As soon as they sense his presence, they are not to engage but to report directly to the nearest wizard seat.”

“Seems a rather reactive approach.”

“Orders, sir.”

Nikselpik sighed. “Send a message anyway. How long will it take for that
other
wizard seat to respond?”

“Depending on what Elwray wants to say and when he wants to say it. A few hours at the very least. A day if he’s disagreeable. We’re setting up cables now, possibly a pneumatic tube later, for messages. Things should move much faster then.”

Nikselpik, having not followed the progress of most Hightower tinkerers in many years, said, “How long have we been able to send messages over cable, Tenzic?”

“For decades, sir. Hightower is relatively small, and we’ve never had anyone organize the proper layout although many have argued about it. In fact, the original project plan was canceled by…”

“Let me guess. Raulnock?”

Tenzic’s lowered head provided the answer.

“Of course. Well then I’ll ride up to that lofty tower of Elwray’s and deliver the message myself if I must.”

“No good, sir. It’s just that with Dale out in the field and Elwray acting as interim First Wizard, they are being quite scrupulous.”

Nikselpik tossed his fork on the table and bits of grote grease dappled the parchment (much to Boovash’s displeasure). “Then they need to loosen their scruples! Or else it’s going to be too gods-damned late.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Niksabella Nur bounced atop her pony, head swiveling in every direction, taking in the world as she’d never seen it before. The dirt road, the
Western
Road, the grass fields to either side, and always the snow-capped Northern Utenes rising imposingly on their right. Not that she’d never looked in this direction or thought Hightower was the only place on Sullenor, but her previous views had come from inside the city looking out: the Hightower Heights, or the end of Hightower Lane, or while having tea on Fritzy’s balcony. But to see the road through the eyes of a traveler, to know they were on their way to some mysterious destination on a dangerous quest, gave it an entirely new meaning.

It was early evening, close to nightfall. Niksabella’s spirit was so alive she felt like shouting, much like the urge she’d had to chase her brother and his friends to Bombrick’s in what seemed like ages ago. She was having a taste of the real world, the world beyond her formerly solitary existence of waking and working, working and sleeping. And while she knew the work had been valuable, these constantly changing perspectives made her wonder how much of life she’d really missed. She had Termund to thank for that.

He rode next to her, his dark, curly hair bouncing atop the shoulders of his hard, leather coat. His riding attire wasn’t much different than his regular dress except that now, everything had a road-worn look about it in addition to his upgrading to thick riding gloves and boots. The sword buckled to his side and crossbow mounted on his saddle made him decidedly more ominous, yet he seemed right at home with the weapons. His pony was a stunning brown creature that seemed to read his mind, maneuvering with hardly a gesture or word. Perfectly proper and brave, that was Termund. Her Termund.

As much as she’d gotten used to having him around, his many mysterious facets made her feel quite simple. And she had told him as much. He disagreed, of course. “Any greatness you see in me rests solely in your pretty head, sweet lady,” he had told her. And perhaps after being on the road for a time, she’d be free of any lingering doubts.

“You look happy, Nika,” he said to her now.

“I am,” she admitted.

“Like a gnomeling enjoying her first nameday confection, and let me say, that makes
me
happy.”

“Well, m’lord, I’m happy it amuses you. I have to admit, I
am
overcome somewhat. Leaving Hightower, putting all the trouble of my life behind me… it’s like a weight lifted. My heart feels… less burdened. Especially with my recursive mirror in hand and my brother all better.”

“Nikselpik, yes, he has recovered well indeed. An interesting chap, your brother.”

“Putting it mildly.”

“He’s full of fight, just like his sister. But a few days on the road, warming your butt against a fire while your front side freezes, that’ll cool anyone’s hot blood.”

Niksabella frowned. “I hope not. I like it out here. Everything is so open. You don’t notice dust or commotion or even time for that matter. Unless you happened to bring a pocket watch.”

Termund smiled and pulled back his coat sleeve, revealing a ticking wafer with a crystal face. “Indeed. Soon we’ll all be tracking time by the movements of the sun more than anything. I’ll show you how that works. But time won’t matter when we’re snug asleep in our cocoon. Perhaps we should try to fit a sleeper made for one. Now
that
might be interesting.”

The idea of fitting into one of those with Termund made her blush, and she looked south to avoid his teasing eyes. Farms dotted the landscape, fences making square shapes out of the land, cows roaming over white swells to pick at what was left of anything green. The occasional homestead was often hidden into niches of trees or boldly displayed at the tops rises, all with plumes of smoke rising from chimneys, snow burners, cooking stoves, and any manner of machines that made country living a bit more tolerable. Beyond those easy homes lay the thick shadow of Swicki Forest, a dark stain on the horizon.

That’s where Nik fought for his life. That’s where you might have lost him.
She hated the thought and quickly refocused. “I wonder what will happen to my workshop… or if anyone has tried again to pillage my tools.”

That thought’s not much better…

“They’d not find much. I had Brit and the boys round up your tools and stow them in the Cog’s storage facility, where the delegation from Thrasperville is allotted a respectable amount of space. I can’t say they understood what they were putting away, but they promised it would be stowed neatly and intact.”

“I’m… I don’t know what to say.”

“Say nothing. Or tell me you’re happy. Whatever you please.”

“I am happy. Very much so. Thank you.”

That night, they camped between a small set of hills in the northwest corner of the Utenes, just where the range bent south again. The Western Pass wasn’t far, but Termund assured her this was a common place for those entering and exiting Hightower by the Western Road. A regular place to camp and break bread.

Termund told her, “No matter the season, these hills are immune to the wind. It might get cold, but it’s a still cold.”

They pulled off the road and formed a rough circle around one of the many well-used fire havens. The team of forty-five gnomes and gnomestresses and their ponies and wagons began to set up camp. One gnome dropped a
pfitzer
brick into a fire hole, covered it with wood, and lit it while others erected half shelters out of canvas and poles, the rear ends butting up against the wagons where the side panels flipped down to reveal cooking stations and caches of supplies.

As the blaze grew, a gnomestress pulled on a series of rusted levers on the ground previously hidden beneath the snow and leaves. They flipped grudgingly, filling the air with ear-bending creaks and squeals.

“What are those?” Niksabella asked as she slid from her pony into Termund’s arms.

“Those control the openings for the vents beneath the ground, beneath our very feet. They will distribute the fire’s heat in a thirty-foot radius all around us. Inside of two hours, this ground will be as warm as it would be on a summer day. That’s why they’re clearing the snow away. Left alone, we’d be standing in six inches of mud before long.”

Clever
. “Are these campsites all along the Western Road?”

“Only as far as the Western Pass. From there travelers are on their own.”

Prior to their leaving Jancy had sent a tailor from Midtown district to see to Niksabella’s garmenting needs, and while Niksabella had offered enough coin to cover the cost, the tailor waved her off, saying the sister of the new First Wizard was practically royalty, and so Niksabella had a small collection of travel outfits; heavy stockings and woolen socks, skirts and blouses that could be worn in layers, and a pair of cloaks of tightly woven material the tailor had assured her would thwart the coldest winter draft. The tones were primarily earthen, but color blossomed in several scarves. Her favorite was a woolen red and black one that kept her neck wonderfully warm; in truth her travel garb was the finest clothing she’d ever had and she relished it all.

In time darkness fell and the cold night settled on them, watches were set, and gnomes and gnomestresses settled in, yet Niksabella found it difficult to even think about sleeping. She sat on a small stool with her knees pressed together and one of the four books she’d borrowed from Kalaquick opened in her lap while Termund brushed down their ponies.

Uncle Brit came over and set a cup of snolt on the warm ground near her feet. He was significantly less jangly than normal after losing his prestigious accoutrements in lieu of the journey.

“Bored yet?”

Niksabella smiled at him and looked up at the sky. “Hardly. There’s all this…
nature
to consider. I’ve led a fairly sheltered life.” She lifted her book. “And if I get bored of that, which I doubt I will, I have plenty of studying to do.”

“Magick?”

“Yes. Both my brother and Kalaquick have been helpful in reviewing some of the things I already knew and guiding me on how to move forward. It’s nice to have a bit of formal study, like dusting the cobwebs out of my brain.”

The rotund gnome grunted and settled his bulk on the ground next to her. He put his finger into the air to emphasize a point. “I’m not too bad with magick myself, you know. I could probably show you a thing or two. There’s always a cost for magick though. Does a number on the old noggin it does.”

“You don’t have much magick in Thrasperville?”

“Oh yes, dear. Surely, we do. Factions of magick users,
clubs
we like to call them. All governed by the Machromatic Guild, named after Thrasperville’s first real wizard, Matsimmions Machromatic. Nothing high and mighty about it like in Hightower. Nice enough chaps, loyal and well-practiced, if a bit off kilter.”

Niksabella loved the old gnome, but he had a way of being peevish about certain things. “So you think practicing magick is a foolish pursuit?”

“Oh, make no mistake. Magick has its place. But it’s been my experience in my one hundred and ten years that the continual pressure required to learn and maintain the craft breaks down one’s mental fortitude. I’ve seen gnomes’ heads turned to jelly by it. That’s why no one in the Machromatic Guild is allowed to hold public office.”

Niksabella certainly couldn’t argue with that. Raulnock was a perfect example of a dangerous gnome becoming even more dangerous by giving him significant political influence. And then there was her brother…

“Thrasperville gnomestresses tend to enlist in our famed hillfoot forces. Our gals are tough as nails, they are. Real bruisers when they set their minds to it.”

Niksabella frowned at that. “They choose
to enlist in your army? Or are they more
urged
to take up the soldier’s trade rather than learn magick?”

Brit thought about it, his large head tilted in contemplation. “I see where you’re going with that, and you may have a point, but I assure you, it has been that way for hundreds of years. And not for lack of faith in our fine gnomestresses. Thrasperville fellows are first and foremost gentlegnomes, and we are doomed to cater to the whims of our ladies. If they want to fight, they fight. If they prefer to cast, then they cast.”

“Hmm. Well, it sounds like a good place for a gnomestress to settle down. I can’t wait to see your home beneath the mountain, but I can’t imagine
ever
becoming proficient with a sword. I’d probably slice one of my own ears off.”

Brit snorted. “You jest, but I had a great aunt we used to call Nellie No-Ears due to just that. Accidentally cut one off, then had the other,” he made a snipping motion on his ear, as if cutting it with scissors, “to balance it out. My other relatives sometimes teased her about wanting to look like a tiny human. Come to think of it, she did look a bit more like a human child…”

“Nika No-Ears. That has too much of a ring to it for my liking.”

They both chuckled.

“No. Magick is what I have to work with, and it is time for me to learn how to take care of myself out here in the real world, where I seem to have become involved in ultraworldy affairs. I hope to have your support, Uncle Brit.”

“Oh yes, no judgment from me. It’s just that… I’m just encouraging you to be careful and take it slow. Nothing to rush here. And if you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask.”

“I will. And I’ll pull my own weight around here. I want you to know that.”

Brit smiled and patted her hand where it lay across the book, then started to rise. “I’m sure you will, my dear.” He worked his bulk back and forth until he could finally stand, waving Niksabella off as she tried to assist him. He gave her a fond look. “Who would have guessed the gnomestress to steal my nephew’s heart was half a world away.” He laid his hand on her shoulder a moment, then said, “Don’t forget your snolt, lass,” and tottered off to his own tent.