The Alchemists of Loom (Loom Saga #1)(26)

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?