The Alchemists of Loom (Loom Saga #1)(37)

Florence’s fingers wrapped around the barrel, pulling it away from him. “Never point the muzzle of a gun at something unless you’re ready to shoot it.”

“But it’s not loaded.” Cvareh didn’t appreciate being treated like a child.

“It isn’t now. But it could’ve been. It’s just good practice. Every young Revolver learns that.”

“Ah, Flor, if he wants to point guns at his face, why don’t we let him? It’s not like the shot would kill him. Maybe he should learn the hard way and have to sit around a few weeks like a blob while he grows back part of his brain,” Arianna quipped unhelpfully.

“If he wants to learn, he should learn the right way.” Florence turned to look at her master and Cvareh followed the girl’s stare.

He opened his mouth to retort with equal sarcasm, but the look on Arianna’s face stilled him. She looked past Florence, who continued on about something, and stared straight at him. Her rounded face was relaxed, her lips forming a thin line that he would almost dare call an appreciative smile. Cvareh gave her a small nod, swallowing down the bitterness her verbal jab had filled his mouth with. Arianna shifted her eyes to Florence, and made him question entirely if he’d read the expression wrong.

“In any case,” Florence continued, turning back to him, “the magic lies in the runes. It’s something the Alchemists developed, similar to tempering metal. A Chimera, or Dragon I suppose, charges the metal with magic. Different shapes hold different types of magic.”

She cocked the hammer back, showing him the striking point. Sure enough, there was a rune there that mirrored a similar one etched onto the flat end of the canister. Cvareh turned the canister over once more, staring in wonder. Magic that could be used to manipulate the physical world. For half of his life, for centuries on Nova, it was something that couldn’t be done. Magic existed only in the mind, the realm of the ephemeral. It couldn’t be used to make explosions, lift gliders, turn wheels or do half the other things the Fenthri had been able to devise. For as strong as the Dragons were and had always been, there were things that eluded them—things the Fenthri could do and they could not.

He passed the canister back to Florence and his hand fell to the folio around his waist. That was why he was on Loom. It was that power he sought, to change the natural order and challenge the laws of the world. The power Cvareh hoped could build an army and lead his family to victory.

“But,” Florence continued, “as time goes on the runes can lose their magic, or get worn down.”

“They need to be recharged,” Cvareh reasoned.

“Which is where Arianna comes in.” Florence directed the tiniest of smiles at the gun, rather than her teacher.

Arianna looked weary as she echoed a similar expression, unbeknownst to the girl. “I think I’ll go and work a bit. And figure out what ship is headed for Ter.4.2, and how we’re getting on it.”

Florence didn’t acknowledge Arianna for the first time. She didn’t even turn. The older woman stood, waiting, crumbling under the weight of the silence from her pupil.

Here it is, then. The one thing that could break the White Wraith.

Catching his eyes, Arianna’s face transformed. She shot him a nasty look and stormed out the room. It was a glancing blow, a warning. They both knew the longer they stayed around each other, the more familiar they would become. No matter how hard she tried, he would learn her secrets, at least some.

But that would come in the days leading to the Alchemists’ Guild. For now, Cvareh focused on one task at a time. And there was still unfinished business sitting before him.

“Flor.” He tried out Arianna’s familiar name for the girl. She looked up in surprise, but didn’t scold him for using it. “Why don’t you want to go to Ter.4.2?”

Her fingers ran over her gun kit, as though she couldn’t decide what tool she needed to solve the problem presented to her. When that proved futile, she moved onto her powder box, shifting through the various tins. But Cvareh knew her answers weren’t in there either. He was patient, and waited for her to come to that conclusion on her own.

“I was born a Raven.” Her fingers finally stopped moving when they rested on her cheek. “But I wasn’t any good at it—useless, really…”

“You got a mark,” Cvareh pointed out.

“And I barely passed that test.” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have. I had help.”

“Your friends?”

“My friends.” Florence dropped her hand with a heavy sigh. “I wish I could’ve been like Arianna and escaped the mark entirely.”

“Why?” Cvareh didn’t understand. At every opportunity, he donned the symbol of House Xin. It was as much a part of him as his skin color. It signified who he was, where he belonged. No matter how far he went in the world, being Xin would always be etched upon his identity. Who wouldn’t want that?

“Because then I could’ve been truly free.” She sighed wistfully. “People wouldn’t look at me and see a Raven, they’d see me.”

“You mean you could be a Revolver.”

“I could be anything I desired,” she corrected.

Loom had a backwards system before the Dragons. People going wherever they wanted, doing what they wanted. For a society that Cvareh had been always taught favored logic, it didn’t seem based on reason.