The Rebels of Gold (Loom Saga #3)(44)

The room had been effectively silenced, but Arianna didn’t want to stop.

“This, this here, is the reason I have held the box for years. This is what I tried to caution you against.” Arianna looked down on them all like the children they were. “From the first minute, it was all you focused on, to the neglect of other necessities.” She gave a nod to Powell, who seemed surprised to be addressed directly. “The Philosopher’s Box is powerful. I can’t deny it. Likely more powerful than any of you realize. But the box is a tool that strengthens people. Loom can have all the power in the world, but if we are divided and squabbling, it will matter little as the Dragon King makes sport of our disorganization. Even a Perfect Chimera can be picked off with little issue by a trained Dragon. There has to be a system around making Perfect Chimera, training them to fight, giving them as many organs as possible. Systems we just don’t have.”

“She’s right.” Florence was finally on the same page, and the relief of it was like cool water on fiery flesh. “Here we are, proving her right. Vicar Willard, how long to set up some kind of manufacturing for the box?”

The vicar looked back to her, but Arianna stayed silent. If they wanted her input, they’d have to ask. “Well, Arianna said weeks, so I would estimate . . . two months? But only after we have the flowers. And only if we can use the remaining machinery in Ter.3.”

“Vicar Dove, you have three weeks to figure out a secure way to get us flowers, and hopefully some stock.”

“Three weeks?” the vicar balked at Florence. “I don’t know—”

“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.” Florence silenced the vicar from further objection with a look that Arianna didn’t know she could make.

“Vicar Gregory, are there any weapons left?” That was the moment Florence’s voice softened and the whole atmosphere of the room with it. It would take some time before the mere mention of the Revolvers’ Guild would not fill every man and woman on Loom with pangs of loss and sorrow.

“No. Not beyond what every Revolver carries on their person or had stashed in some alternative location.” Even the vicar lost some of his anger in reporting the fact. “Not unless there were any in transit through the Ravens’ routes?”

“It’s possible. There’d be a record at the guild hall.”

A record. Speaking of, she needed to get the copy of Louie’s ledger to Florence.

“Good, we’re all headed there anyway.” Florence continued in the wake of everyone’s surprise. “The king expects to find us here. He knows all of Loom has assembled. I have no doubt that when he comes back, he will do so with force, ready to attack the instant he finds us noncompliant.”

“So, we move.” Willard finally sat, a hand on his knees as he eased himself down.

“We take Loom underground.”

“Underground?” Vicar Dove repeated. “Florence, you cannot possibly mean . . .”

“The Dragons are a threat to us as long as they can use their gliders. If they cannot do that, our bullets can reach them.”

Arianna thought back to Leona’s glider crashing into the entry to the Underground they had escaped into months ago. It was solid logic grounded in proof, even if no one else knew it.

“That’s assuming the Dragons even know the entry point . . .” Vicar Dove murmured.

“The Ravens’ Folly? You can’t possibly expect us to go there.” Willard wiped sweat from the back of his neck.

“I don’t expect you to. You will go down to Ter.3 and begin to set up manufacturing for the box. It will be faster to use whatever remains at the Rivets’ Guild than start from scratch. And we can use the existing train lines for transport. They should mostly be intact.”

“Alchemists will be the first to go.” Vicar Ethel turned away from the masters she had been whispering with. “Train us to implant the box, and we can complete the organs for each Chimera, should we have enough of a farm to harvest from.”

“Can you harvest from Perfect Chimera?” Vicar Powell asked.

Arianna grimaced at the idea but answered anyway. “You can. My organs regrow as a Dragon’s would.”

“That’s convenient.” Vicars Ethel and Powell said at nearly the same time. Arianna was no longer going to allow herself to be in a room alone with either of them.

“Who are you to order us?” Vicar Gregory’s tone had lost some bite, but the question was still pointed enough.

“Do you have a better idea?” Florence held out her hands, as if to receive some great insight from the vicar. “If so, I’d love to hear it.”

Gregory looked to the other vicars and masters. None came to his defense. “It will be easier to fortify the Underground with less,” Gregory finally murmured. “Even if we’ll be fighting on two flanks. Don’t know what I want to tangle with less . . . whatever could come from above, or below.”

The other vicars voiced their agreement, each one deferring to Florence. Arianna leaned forward again, inspecting the woman who stood in the center of the room. There it was, that same aura she’d sensed before—the one that showed the shaking girl she’d pulled from the Underground was no more.

And if that role was no longer needed in Florence’s life, what did that make them?