The Rebels of Gold (Loom Saga #3)(39)
“Florence—” Vicar Gregory’s tone had been getting harsher by the day.
“I’m curious about these details as well.” Powell came to her aid. She didn’t know what she’d done to earn such esteem in the man’s eyes, but having the favor of a vicar was priceless.
“Well, since a vicar is asking now . . .” Dove gave Florence a look from the corner of her eyes. “We are currently working on the infrastructure between Loom and Nova, to find a consistent means of transport. Without the ability to pilot a glider, we will need to rely on Dragon intervention. But finding Dragons willing to work against the Dragon King while not endangering our own by drawing attention is difficult.”
Florence rightly didn’t care if Louie was in any sort of danger. That was the line of work he put himself in. But since Vicar Dove was, for whatever reason, keeping Louie’s involvement quiet, Florence couldn’t call out the fact.
She turned to Arianna expectantly. If they needed Dragons, surely House Xin would come to their aid. Florence met her teacher’s eyes, and the other woman remained glued to her seat—and silent.
“Perhaps the Harvesters have some inroads with the Dragons that we could use?” Vicar Dove continued to speak with Powell, but the words were distant.
Why wasn’t Arianna saying anything? She looked over to the Vicar Alchemist, and promptly realized that Cvareh had held his meetings with Sophie, not the vicar that Florence had ushered in by creating a sudden vacancy in the position. No one else really knew of the depth of Cvareh’s involvement beyond her and Ari.
“Perhaps,” Powell replied. “But most of our organ seeds—” he didn’t even acknowledge the Dragons as people, Florence noticed. “—were given to us to cultivate legally by the Dragon King. An avenue I do not think is available to us any longer.” He turned to the masters behind him. “Would any of you . . .”
Arianna still was immobile. Florence stared down at her teacher, but Arianna was doing an excellent job of ignoring her probing gaze. Why wouldn’t she speak? It was for the good of Loom. They had the solution neatly. They could move on from the topic.
What exactly happened between her and Cvareh on Nova?
The question from the first time she had laid eyes on her teacher again crept back to her. Now, more than ever, she was sure of it.
Frustration found its way like a billow of steam up the flue of her throat. If Arianna wasn’t going to say anything, then she would—Vicar Gregory’s growing ire toward her be damned. Somewhere in her, Florence felt bad for outing Arianna, but there wasn’t any other choice. If Arianna wouldn’t do what was best for Loom, Florence would.
The doors to the room were pulled open and a breathless man ran halfway down the stairs before loudly proclaiming, “Rainbows in the sky!”
No one breathed.
Then, chaos.
“What do we do?” Vicar Powell asked no one in particular. Typical Harvester.
“Revolvers, arm yourselves and to vantages!” Vicar Gregory jumped into motion. “Masters, summon the other journeymen. All Revolvers are to take to positions!”
“Vicar Gregory, can my Ravens assist your guns in flying to their stations?” The prior hesitation to work together melted away from Vicar Dove in a moment.
“Yes, while masters convene.” Vicar Gregory gave a firm nod to the other vicar and then continued to bark orders.
Florence stood. She hadn’t been given a position, but she was going to fight anyway.
“Where are you going, Florence?” the Vicar Revolver demanded.
“To where I can be of use.”
“Just stay here. Only Revos were informed of what to do in such a contingency,” Vicar Gregory called back, leaving and taking half the room with him.
Only Revos. The words echoed and Florence scowled. She adjusted her hat and started for the door.
“He said to stay here,” Powell called after her.
Florence spun in place, looking at the three of the five guilds who had yet to move. “I am not going to sit here, waiting to die, while we are under attack.” She drew her gun, pointing it to the doorway. “We all thrive, or we all perish—together. There’s no other option for us now.”
“You received an order from the Vicar Revolver,” one of the still-lingering masters with a revolver chamber tattooed on his cheek cautioned her.
“Good thing I’m, apparently, not a Revolver then.” Florence grinned, tapped her own cheek, and left the room behind her.
A pair of hasty footsteps caught up to her, slowing to fall into step with her own strides. Florence looked to her right, instinctively tilting her head upward so that the brim of her hat didn’t hide Arianna’s face. The other woman gripped her shoulder, stopping her in place. Florence’s appreciation quickly melted into the frustration from earlier.
“What will it be, Ari?” Florence looked to the doors before them that led to the waste of Ter.0 in all its crumbling glory. “Are you my enemy or my ally? Will you try to keep me from fighting as well?”
She gave a huff of amusement and lightly took off Florence’s top hat. People moved around them, rushing, shouting, cowering, drawing weapons and steeling their resolve. But for a brief moment, everything seemed to slow.
“You’ll shoot better if you don’t have to tilt your head funny to look up.” Arianna deposited the hat on the window ledge of one of the inner stairwells. “You’ll be upset if it gets damaged, too. Not too many hatteries around here.”