The Rebels of Gold (Loom Saga #3)(14)

She had three more requests of Louie. If she had one to spare, she’d spend it on demanding the man wash her coat himself, just for the sake of seeing the king get his hands dirty once.

Goggles down, hood up, covered in soot and grease, she might be able to pass as a Raven. Between racing trikes, Arianna descended quickly using her golden cable. She scampered up to the parking area, crouching as one odd-looking four-wheeled vehicle pulled away.

By the time another Raven approached, all they would see was a grime-covered woman hunched with her eyes on the floor, striding with purpose into the most important terminal in the world.

She may not agree with the Raven mindset or methods, but Arianna couldn’t deny a cathedral of innovation when she saw one.

Fifteen tracks, neatly lined and almost all occupied, sat underneath a vaulted ceiling high enough to stack half the trains on top of each other with room to spare. There were passenger vessels and cargo transports alike. One engine made Arianna do a double-take.

It was no doubt experimental. Arianna had never considered that placement of gold before to help drive thrust. Half of it made sense, but the other half would likely result in inefficiency. Unless . . .

She pried her eyes away. That was not what she was here for. She refocused on the windows that lined the wall opposite the end of all the tracks—the terminal offices.

It reminded her of the last time she’d broken into an office for shipping information. Back then, she’d been ferrying a particular Dragon.

“Watch where you’re going!” A Raven threw her a rude gesture as they narrowly avoided a collision.

Arianna put her head down and kept moving forward. She had to get what she came for, and get out. She was allowing Arianna the Rivet and Ari Xin to exist where there should only be the White Wraith.

It was amazing how little mind the guild members paid her. They continued along with their duties, oblivious to the intruder in their midst. There seemed to be fewer than she would’ve suspected, however. Perhaps they were thinned as a result of the shifting efforts due to the budding rebellion?

Up two flights of stairs, Arianna found herself in another empty hall. This one was lit—a far significant improvement over her earlier wandering.

Every office, save the first she passed, was quiet. Almost unnervingly so. Low numbers of initiates and journeymen, desks without people to man them . . . This was supposedly one of the busiest stations in the world. Why was it so quiet?

Arianna made quick work of the door lock, easing herself into the dimly lit office. A single light for which there was no switch glowed overhead. A beacon perpetually shining, waiting for the trains that never stopped, even long after people stopped tending them.

There was nothing particularly special about the room. But every detail was exactly as Louie had described. The desk—suspiciously wounded with a deep notch in its right corner—faced the doorway. Two bookshelves stood on her right-hand side, three on her left. Arianna went to the shelf in the farthest corner.

19.32

The innocuous number was imprinted on the second-highest shelf. Binders of identical size, shape, and color were slotted side by side along its entire length. Each bore a number on its spine in ascending order, the last marked 1081.

This year.

This was where Louie’s dictation had ended. All his careful instruction had taken her to this shelf, to the records all the way to the right. This was what he wanted her to steal.

She opened the unmarked folio. A sort of Raven’s code was scribbled across from dates. Numbers and symbols, nothing more.

Louie had no doubt assumed she couldn’t decipher the meaning. And, without more time, she couldn’t. But he was underestimating her, a mistake that many found harmful to their health.

Arianna might not know the Raven’s code offhand, but she knew she was in the main terminal for the transport of all goods and peoples across Loom. She knew that 19.32 was a very specific number, identical to a certain density. And she knew one alchemical symbol that continued to appear across the pages: a circle with a ring around it.

The symbol for gold.

“All right, Louie,” she whispered. “I got your book.” The only linger question was what exactly Louie planned to do with it.





Cvareh


“Say it again.” Cain’s voice was the first to break the silence. “Say it again!” Never before had a Dragon growled with such rage. It would be enough to startle the Goddess of Warriors herself.

“In light of these events,” the Rider continued, ignoring Cain, “Yveun’Dono, in all his generosity, has been gracious enough to allow Finnyr’Oji to return to these halls as your House’s leader.”

“Gracious enough?” Cain snarled. “Gracious enough? He likely killed her himself!”

“Cain Bek, I will let this slide without a challenge, seeing as House Xin is currently in a time of transition—” The Rider would not even say grief. He wouldn’t give them that decency. “—But your Ryu is still present and, in such a case, can authorize a duel.”

The mention of Ryu brought Cain’s eyes swinging back to Cvareh.

Cvareh wasn’t ready for all the emotions and demands wrapped up in his friend’s gaze. He could barely handle his own emotions; how would he handle another’s? What did Cain think he could do?

Petra had trained him to be her right hand, to function as she needed. He was a vessel for his sister and without her . . .