The Alchemists of Loom (Loom Saga #1)(73)
“I’m lucky to have a Revo like you looking out for me.” Arianna nudged Florence’s shoulder with her own, satisfied it seemed she had no intention of leaving her side anytime soon. It wasn’t every day you had the opportunity to meet another gear that fit so well against your own.
She mused on the fact as she led them all to where she had been holing up, promising Will and Helen some supplies to get them on their way. Meeting the two Ravens had proved to Ari how special Florence was, how unique it was that she had slotted nicely into Ari’s world. But it equally illuminated something else she never expected. Everyone she’d met in her life could be organized into two categories: those who fit in seamlessly, and those who didn’t.
She never expected Cvareh to fall in with the former, rather than the latter.
30. Cvareh
Of all the ways to travel, the airship was the one Cvareh liked the best. Anything was better than the Underground—he’d consider diving head first into the Gods’ Line before venturing down into those forsaken depths again—but it wasn’t the most recent harrowing experiences that colored his opinion on the matter. They had traveled decently well on the train, and he had traversed skies and land alike on the backs of boco on Nova. But this, this, was something completely different.
The ship was hoisted on magic and mechanics. A giant balloon, filled and strapped into the top of the airship, supplied the majority of the lift. The rest was seen in the faint trail of magic that glittered off from the propellers on each of the golden-tipped wings, fanning out widely. The front of the airship was pointed and drawn up like the bill of a fish-eating water bird. But the back was open. Multiple tiers of viewing decks connected in to the dining room, the gaming parlor, and at the end of the residences that filled the top deck entirely.
Everything was done in pale woods and iron, accented with other dark and light stones like marble. As pretty as it was comfortable, it was the closest to home he’d felt the entire time. And that was no small wonder, as Dragons seemed to be regular patrons on airships. There were aesthetic elements the Fenthri regarded as fascinating marvels—like the curling vine-like banisters, or the wave embellishments around the cabin windows—but for a Dragon, they were nothing more than calls to the aesthetic that surrounded them on Nova.
Even now, as he stared down at the lower observation balconies, he could see the inspiration of some Dragon designer at work in the way the tile was laid and the arcs were off-set slightly. Cvareh rested his elbows on the wooden railing and watched the faint trails of magic spiraling in the wind before disappearing. It had been such a wonder, the first time he’d seen magic manifest itself in the physical world. Now it was commonplace, so much so that he didn’t even think about it. And, if he did think about it, it was associated with Yveun Dono’s Riders and their gliders. It was something that brought grief, not wonder. Yet another thing the Dragon King has taken from us all.
“What’s so fascinating out there?” Arianna rested her elbows next to his. For a whole day, she had worn proper clothing. The coat of the White Wraith had been safely tucked away and forgotten about.
Now, her coat was of a military-inspired sort, intricate roping braided down her chest, knotted on either side and tied over clasps in the middle. The design was mirrored on the sleeves and collar. He particularly appreciated the designer’s choice to add a similar embellishment right at the small of the back, though he said nothing about it.
He didn’t want to admit that he had studied the taper of her trousers or the shine of her shoes. He would never confess to admiring the elegance with which she could tie her cravat to emphasize her Rivet pin. And he didn’t even dwell too long on how aware he was that the roping on her jacket brought out the purple of her eyes.
“Nothing.” He answered her question before his silence brought her eyes to his. “And there’s actually something rather blissful about that fact.” It was nice not to worry about Riders, or the Wretched, or anything else Loom had on it.
“I’m glad you find it blissful.” Her tone had become bitter in an instant when her initial question had seemed so light and harmless.
“What have I done to upset you this time?” he asked with a sigh. She gave him a look. The more he acted like he didn’t care about her moods, the more bothered she became. Cvareh savored it guiltily.
“Do you know why there’s nothing out there?” Her voice had gone soft again. It was an odd contrast that Ari pulled off easily as the woman who could wear men’s clothing and look wonderfully feminine while doing so.
“Because we’re flying?”
She looked at him like he had just made the most idiotic statement she’d ever heard. “I mean why there’s nothing on the ground beneath us. No lights, no ports, black above and black below.”
“We’re over Ter.0, aren’t we?” It clicked for him.
She nodded, turning her attentions to the darkness once more—both within and outside.
“You were born in Ter.0, weren’t you?” If she remembered the time of the Guilds before the Dragons, then she was born before Loom knew what families were. Back in the primitive days when they rounded up men and women of breeding age to reproduce on the island of Ter.0—a place owned by none of and all of the guilds.
“And I spent my first ten years studying there,” she elaborated willingly.