The Alchemists of Loom (Loom Saga #1)(32)
Arianna had quite the taste in lodging. The bar stunk of stale vomit and sea scum. There wasn’t a single patron and Florence had no doubt it had as much to do with the overall atmosphere as it did the fact that they had just opened.
“You have rooms?” Arianna asked the barman.
“For a price.” The man targeted his eyes right on Florence’s mark. “Traveling?”
“I’m their escort.” She felt as awkward as she sounded trying to play the part.
“Right.” The man believed her as much as if she had said she was a Dragon. “Forty dunca, one room, eight hours starting now?”
“Why eight?” Florence couldn’t help herself.
“I’m not used to people wanting to stay around for all that long.” The man grinned. Half his teeth had rotted out.
“Eight will be plenty.” Arianna fished trough her bag. Thankfully, the satchel was designed for being turned up-side-down in all of Arianna’s various scuffles and the dunca hadn’t been lost in the station. “Eighty dunca.”
“Two rooms, or sixteen hours?” the man asked, running the bills through his fingers.
“One room, eight hours, and forty dunca for you to forget we were ever here,” Arianna clarified.
“Mum’s the word.” The man snickered and waved them toward a back hall.
Arianna picked a room, seemingly at random from the doors that were slightly ajar. She locked it behind them with a begrudging pause. Florence knew her teacher was mentally taking apart the lock several times over, scowling at its simplicity.
“You know he’ll sell us out to the highest bidder.” Cvareh pulled off his goggles as if he needed unhindered sight to stare disapprovingly at the room.
“I know.” Arianna leaned against the door like a guard, leaving Florence to take the small stool. None of them was brave enough to try the palette intended to be a bed. The floor was likely cleaner. “But it’ll spare him from running his mouth at the very first opportunity that there was a Dragon traveling with two Fenthri staying in his back room.”
“How would he know I was—”
Arianna stopped Cvareh by pointing to his hands. The bandages had ripped off when he’d used his talons in the fight. At best he could pass for gray, but there was no denying the shape of his nails, even retracted.
The Dragon spat a word in the heavy tones of Royuk. “So what do we do now?” He sighed heavily and slid along the wall to the floor.
“We wait for nightfall and stow away in one of the cargo ships.”
“Cargo ship for where?” Florence still remembered Arianna’s promise that she wouldn’t like her plan. For emphasis, the woman’s stare was openly apologetic. It only made Florence more worried.
“Why a ship? Wouldn’t an airship be faster?” Cvareh asked.
“It would.” Arianna ignored Florence’s question completely. “But that’s also what they expect—us to take the most direct route.”
“They’re going to be canvassing everywhere we go, every major city, every major transportation line,” Cvareh said. “Even if they weren’t, there’s the matter of their ability to track my magic.”
“And I’m still very curious as to the exact why surrounding their motives in tracking you down.” Arianna gave Cvareh a penetrating stare. The Dragon set his chin and met it. He was the only person Florence had ever seen challenge Arianna. Then again, Florence didn’t exactly see Arianna with very many people.
“I’ve told you all you need to know.”
“Yes, yes, that you’re working to overthrow the Dragon King.” Arianna snorted, showing how much she believed that particular bit of information.
Florence wasn’t as convinced of Cvareh’s lie. The Dragon was certainly going to great risk to get to the Alchemists. It was the guild that stood the furthest from being under Dragon control, hiding behind their insistence on secrecy for their experiments. It had been the home of Loom’s original resistance.
But even the Council of Five—those foolish few who had attempted to fan spark to flame and free Loom from under the Dragon King in those early days—had perished to the might of the Dragons. The Fenthri stood no chance, outclassed as they were in strength and magic. Florence had grown up hearing the tales of the Council of Five, but as a child’s cautionary tale against being too bold. The Council was not spoken of lightly, and never with praise.
“But I don’t disagree with you, Dragon.” Arianna sighed, continuing, “The Riders will be canvassing every major hub, and an airship is very noticeable if it is not traveling between those hubs. Not to mention your scent is notable.”
“So then how will we move?”
“We’ll take the Underground.” Arianna turned to Florence, and it was suddenly clear.
“No,” Florence breathed. “I won’t go back there again.”
“Flor—”
“You promised me!”
“Then stay here.” The words were said gently, but they hurt more than Arianna intended.
Florence fidgeted on the stool, shifting her feet, trying to catch her breath and her balance at the same time. Tunnels, endless tunnels that turned the underbelly of Ter.4 into a rat maze. It was known as “the Ravens’ playground” by bold new initiates, and “the Ravens’ folly” by the far more sensible masters.