Cvareh stared at the tube of gold attached to the shaft of the mechanism. With a mental command he drove down its weight. It pushed against the shaft, turning the flywheel to life.
“All right, Pops, try the combustion pistons now!” Arianna had to practically scream to be heard over the sounds of the engine groaning to life.
The ship’s Rivet—Pops, as everyone called him—raised his thumb in the air as some symbol of affirmation. With the help of another crewmate he engaged a different set of machines. Somehow, despite all the noise, Cvareh heard Arianna’s sharp intake of breath. She held it, waiting with as much tension as a harp string.
After a few minutes, the woman put her hands on her hips triumphantly. She curled her lips in a flat-lined smile of admiration at the engine. Cvareh didn’t find it beautiful, not compared to the breathtaking aesthetics of Nova. But there was something…lovely, in her admiration of the thing she had created.
The flywheel spun, pistons fired, and the noise increased until Arianna finally turned. She rested an oily palm on his shoulder. Another shirt ruined.
Her lips moved, but he couldn’t make out the sound over the cacophony of the engine.
“What?” Cvareh tilted his head, shouting in her ear. His eyes focused on the patch of skin at the corner of her jaw, usually hidden by her thick hair. The white strands were clumped with sweat and clinging to her neck. A faint scar ran around the base of an ear that had been capped with steel to prevent it from re-growing pointed—an ear that was a dusty sky color. A House Xin shade of blue.
“I said let’s get above decks.” She slapped his shoulder, unaware of his revelation, and led the way.
Cvareh was a step behind, not wanting to make his sudden discomfort obvious. It was only logical that, as a Chimera, she could have some parts from a Dragon that belonged to some rung of his House. He knew she engaged in organ trafficking. So why would it suddenly bother him?
Pops met them topside. “I don’t know what we would’ve done without you.”
“You would’ve figured it out, I’m sure.” Arianna rubbed sweat from her face with the back of her hand.
“I’m not certain about that.” The weathered sailor’s dark leathery skin folded around his smile. “I’ve been on this ship for twenty years now, making these runs. We’ve only had people ask to work aboard in exchange for passage thirty or so times… But not one has been a master.”
Arianna stilled. Cvareh felt her muscles tense. She fought the instinct in her wrists to seek out her daggers. The longer he spent with the woman, the easier she was to read.
“Your mark is washing off, miss,” Pops clarified.
Arianna brought her hand to her cheek, recognizing that not all the grease on her hands was from the engine. “What will the captain do?”
“Cap is a fair man. He won’t throw an illegal on a dingy to row back to Ter.5 after she just saved us from being trapped behind schedule.” The old man buried his hands in his pockets, more amused than anything. “You’re young for a master. Who was your teacher?”
“Master Oliver.”
Cvareh hadn’t heard the name before. He wondered if she still realized he hovered. And then put a quick stop to the wondering; Arianna was a keen woman, constantly aware. He wouldn’t discredit her by thinking she could have somehow forgotten her surroundings like that.
“Master Oliver.” Pops shook his head, humming quietly over the name. “One of the best.”
“He was the best,” Arianna corrected adamantly.
“What ever became of him?” the older Rivet inquired.
“He died.”
“I assumed…” Pops’s words faded into the silence, inviting Arianna to continue. She didn’t. “Well, he passed on his learning to hundreds, and his mastery. Those are the marks of a good life.”
Arianna nodded her head a fraction. Pops walked in one direction, she in the other. The woman started up a narrow metal stair for the walk above the engine room, around the smokestack.
Cvareh followed.
“What do you want?” Arianna placed her elbows on the metal of the deck rail, rested the small of her back against it, and looked up toward the sky.
“You must be exhausted. Why not go to bed?”
Arianna snorted in amusement, arching a curious eyebrow at him. It clearly conveyed the weight she placed on his supposed concern for her wellbeing. Cvareh rolled his eyes, leaning on the railing as well, and looked out to sea instead.
“I’m watching the smokestack.” Her voice was void of any bite. It was almost the same tone she reserved for Florence. “I want to make sure we’re up and running again before I go collapse.”
“Good of you to do for people who could turn you in for being unmarked the moment we dock.”
“Ooh, cynical. You’ve been around me too long.” There was an almost Dragon-like wildness to her grin. Cvareh chuckled and shook his head. “But they won’t turn us in.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“They’re honest men and women.” She shrugged. “I believe what Pops said about the captain.”
“A thief concerned about honor.” He laughed.