Arianna hunted like a Dragon on a blood scent through the port authority’s records for evidence of even one vessel headed for Ter.2.3. Sure, it was a far voyage and likely to only be made once every few weeks, even months. But to have none, in or out? That made no sense.
It had been the Alchemists who developed the first Chimera. The Rivets were the ones who’d soused out the refining process in their steel mills and all the applications for gold. The Revolvers were close behind, eagerly finding further uses in their guns and explosives. It was the Harvesters who supplied them all with their base materials and the Ravens who moved the entire world—people and goods. Yes, the Five Guilds of Loom were a connected system, a chain in which every Guild formed a link.
So why was one being cut off?
Arianna’s hands rested on the file drawer as she closed her eyes in thought. The Revolvers needed Alchemical runes for their weaponry and refining. The Alchemists’ Guild hall was in the city of Keel, nestled in the center of The Skeleton Forest, where they needed weapons to fend off all manner of beast. Stopping all trade from the Revolvers would basically be a death sentence for a city that lived in constant fear of wolves, bears, and the endwig.
Cries of reverie from the street brought Arianna’s attention back to her purpose: get them out of Ter.5. She’d let the anomaly surrounding the trade routes remain just that, simmering in the back of her mind until she had some explanation for it.
The port authority safe provided a sufficient distraction, pulling her mind fully back into the present. It was complex enough to be a challenge, but not enough to annoy—ideal, really. She lifted some of the tariff and taxes funds. Not so much that it would be immediately noticed or prove detrimental to the running of the port, but a tidy amount sufficient to grease a captain’s gears enough that he’d take on three extra crew.
Locking the safe behind her, Arianna scanned the room, comparing it to her mental image of its appearance when she entered. One or two things showed small signs of having been moved, but only to eyes that were looking for inconsistencies. People only saw what they wanted, and there should be no cause for suspicion until their vessel was well out to sea.
She closed and locked the window, slipping back into the night through the front door. Come morning, the port authority would be none the wiser of their late night guest.
When she returned to the inn, there was talking on the other side of the door; Florence’s laughter gave her pause. Arianna had felt guilty the moment she’d proposed the notion of navigating through Ter.4 with Flor’s old comrades. The young woman’s mental collapse had been poison more potent than any Arianna had ever drank. So to hear laughter now… it fit a gear in the mechanics of her heart back into place.
Her expression fell at the resonance of Cvareh’s voice. “I can tell you that Dragons wear much less than even that on Nova.”
“What about modesty?” Florence asked.
“What about it?”
“Having everything so… on display all the time. Wouldn’t that make people nervous?” she ventured timidly.
“Why would it? If anything it displays our physical prowess and discourages duels.”
Arianna opened the door with a disapproving glare in Cvareh’s direction. He looked up at her, barely stopping short a dramatic roll of his eyes. Arianna’s fingers twitched for her daggers but remained at her side.
“You’re corrupting my pupil with your tales of Nova,” she seethed. Florence had a clever mind, too curious for her own good, and she always saw the best in people. Arianna knew that just a taste of Nova was likely to leave the girl wanting more, no matter how many times Arianna told her that Dragons were not to be mingled with.
“I think it’s fascinating.” Flor smiled.
And that was what kept her from sewing Cvareh’s mouth shut. He had begun to endear himself to Florence. No matter how much Arianna hated him, she wanted Florence to smile even more. So she would do as she’d always done with Florence. She’d linger in the shadows, hovering in a place not even the girl could see her. She’d give her pupil the freedom to spread her wings, fly, be curious and inquire, experience the thrill of feeling on her own. Florence would work with the fear of falling because Arianna believed that fear was necessary to grow, but she’d always be hovering nearby, ready to pick up the girl if necessary.
“If architecture and fashion are corruption, perhaps Loom could use a bit more corrupting.” Cvareh’s mouth curled upward and his lips spread.
The expression was strange. He wasn’t baring his teeth at her. Their points remained hidden behind his bottom lip. It was…a smile. A Dragon smile. It unnerved her endlessly.
“We need to move,” Arianna announced. “First, Flor, I need the grease pencil.”
“You’re going to do it?” Florence blinked.