didn’t change couldn’t be alive, but it left the exact nature of the Homunculus still very much in question.
‘No plan, then,’ she said.
‘Not as such,’ he said, as sombre as the dead night around them. ‘Still want to help us?’
‘Sounds like you’re going to need it.’
The revving of an engine came from the impromptu campsite. Light spilled across the rugged ground, catching Marmion for an instant then sweeping elsewhere. An afterimage of the Warden remained frozen in her eyesight briefly. He didn’t look especially relieved by the latest development.
‘Let’s get back,’ he said. ‘I want to follow Tom’s progress.’
They followed him out of the Homunculus’s wake. The background levels of the Change swept over them again and she felt Sal physically relax beside her.
She wasn’t so easily reassured. The little they had learned about the Homunculus only served to make her more worried, not less. What else could it do, if it put its mind to it? Where was it going, and why? What would they find waiting for them when they caught up with it? And where was Highson amongst all this craziness?
The only thing she was certain of was that they were caught up in the world again. She thought of Fundelry, and her heart ached.
* * * *
The Quartermaster
‘The Age of Machines never ended; the
magic that drove it simply stopped working.
Since then, Humanity has learned a new
magic and built new machines — and so we
will do again, should the Cataclysm strike
a second time.’
THE BOOK OF TOWERS, FRAGMENT 129
A
heavy pounding at his door woke Skender from a deep sleep. At first he thought the sound came from inside his head, and he rolled over with a groan, cursing himself for drinking too much the night before. Memories of Chu and Magister Considine faded in and out of focus. He was unsure how much of it was real. Perhaps he had dreamed the whole thing.
The hammering persisted. Staggering to his feet, he crossed the tiny room and opened the door.
‘For you.’ A dark-skinned youth thrust a thick envelope into Skender’s hand.
‘Uh, thanks.’ The messenger didn’t wait for a tip. Skender shut the door and retreated into his room, turning the envelope over in his hands. It was marked with a large, important-looking seal in red wax and had his name written in ornate fashion on the front.
He didn’t need to open it to know what it was. Its prompt arrival suggested that his memories were as accurate as ever.
‘Curse it,’ he muttered, collapsing back onto his bed and wishing he were dead. His eyes felt hot and heavy. The leftovers of dinner — aromatic meatballs and spicy vegetable wraps — formed an acidic, oily residue in his stomach that simply didn’t bear thinking about.
There came another knock at the door.
‘Go away!’ he said. ‘Haven’t I suffered enough?’
‘Hardly,’ returned a familiar voice. ‘I’ve barely started on you.’
He groaned and hauled himself up. Chu stood outside his door clad in her flying uniform. Her bright, laughing eyes took him in with one up-down sweep.
‘Nice underwear. And skinny is good for flying. You could use a bit of muscle, though. We’ll work on that this morning.’
He retreated from her relentless energy and fell face-forward onto the bed. ‘I’m not planning on doing anything this morning, except quietly dying.’
‘Nonsense.’ She followed him into the room and shut the door behind her. ‘You’ve got a mother to rescue.’
‘She can wait.’
‘What about me, then? Don’t you want to show me what you’re made of?’
‘You already know. I’m a stone-boy, and I’ll drop like a stone if you push me off that tower.’
‘Maybe, maybe not. There’s only one way to find out.’
He could feel her looking at him, and pictured her with hands on hips, lips pursed in prim amusement. All trace of the previous evening’s gloomy backlash had apparently vanished.
‘Why are you so
‘No plan, then,’ she said.
‘Not as such,’ he said, as sombre as the dead night around them. ‘Still want to help us?’
‘Sounds like you’re going to need it.’
The revving of an engine came from the impromptu campsite. Light spilled across the rugged ground, catching Marmion for an instant then sweeping elsewhere. An afterimage of the Warden remained frozen in her eyesight briefly. He didn’t look especially relieved by the latest development.
‘Let’s get back,’ he said. ‘I want to follow Tom’s progress.’
They followed him out of the Homunculus’s wake. The background levels of the Change swept over them again and she felt Sal physically relax beside her.
She wasn’t so easily reassured. The little they had learned about the Homunculus only served to make her more worried, not less. What else could it do, if it put its mind to it? Where was it going, and why? What would they find waiting for them when they caught up with it? And where was Highson amongst all this craziness?
The only thing she was certain of was that they were caught up in the world again. She thought of Fundelry, and her heart ached.
* * * *
The Quartermaster
‘The Age of Machines never ended; the
magic that drove it simply stopped working.
Since then, Humanity has learned a new
magic and built new machines — and so we
will do again, should the Cataclysm strike
a second time.’
THE BOOK OF TOWERS, FRAGMENT 129
A
heavy pounding at his door woke Skender from a deep sleep. At first he thought the sound came from inside his head, and he rolled over with a groan, cursing himself for drinking too much the night before. Memories of Chu and Magister Considine faded in and out of focus. He was unsure how much of it was real. Perhaps he had dreamed the whole thing.
The hammering persisted. Staggering to his feet, he crossed the tiny room and opened the door.
‘For you.’ A dark-skinned youth thrust a thick envelope into Skender’s hand.
‘Uh, thanks.’ The messenger didn’t wait for a tip. Skender shut the door and retreated into his room, turning the envelope over in his hands. It was marked with a large, important-looking seal in red wax and had his name written in ornate fashion on the front.
He didn’t need to open it to know what it was. Its prompt arrival suggested that his memories were as accurate as ever.
‘Curse it,’ he muttered, collapsing back onto his bed and wishing he were dead. His eyes felt hot and heavy. The leftovers of dinner — aromatic meatballs and spicy vegetable wraps — formed an acidic, oily residue in his stomach that simply didn’t bear thinking about.
There came another knock at the door.
‘Go away!’ he said. ‘Haven’t I suffered enough?’
‘Hardly,’ returned a familiar voice. ‘I’ve barely started on you.’
He groaned and hauled himself up. Chu stood outside his door clad in her flying uniform. Her bright, laughing eyes took him in with one up-down sweep.
‘Nice underwear. And skinny is good for flying. You could use a bit of muscle, though. We’ll work on that this morning.’
He retreated from her relentless energy and fell face-forward onto the bed. ‘I’m not planning on doing anything this morning, except quietly dying.’
‘Nonsense.’ She followed him into the room and shut the door behind her. ‘You’ve got a mother to rescue.’
‘She can wait.’
‘What about me, then? Don’t you want to show me what you’re made of?’
‘You already know. I’m a stone-boy, and I’ll drop like a stone if you push me off that tower.’
‘Maybe, maybe not. There’s only one way to find out.’
He could feel her looking at him, and pictured her with hands on hips, lips pursed in prim amusement. All trace of the previous evening’s gloomy backlash had apparently vanished.
‘Why are you so
Similar Books
