“This isn’t going to fall on us . . . is it?” Will asked skeptically, stepping out of the cart.
Arianna couldn’t fault the boy for his skepticism. The towers above them tilted uneasily and the winds that blew plumes of dust around them created an illusion of a drunken sway. Arianna adjusted her goggles over her eyes, squinting upward against the filtered sunlight from the clouds above Loom.
“They took a beating at the end of the One Year War. But structurally, they’re still intact.” She saw the straight lines of load-bearing pillars and walls running up like arteries underneath the crumbling cosmetics. “Foundation’s holding. Just the aesthetics—” what little aesthetics Loom ever indulged in “—that seem to be falling off.”
“Wonderful. So I won’t die from the whole thing collapsing, but from a bit of debris dropping on my head.” Helen rolled her eyes and folded her hands on top of her head.
“And if you don’t die from either of those, I’m certain the Dragons will see to it,” Louie noted as he disembarked.
Arianna grimaced at the notion. Ter.0 hadn’t survived the last Dragons’ attack. What did they hope to accomplish by holing up here for the next one?
What was Florence thinking?
“This way to Florence.” Shannra started for an archway, as if reading Arianna’s mind. “It’s a bit mad if we go through the main hall.”
They ascended a steep flight of stairs. Old piping clung to the smooth, industrially plain wall, cracking the stone where it protruded. On the first landing, Arianna heard voices, but it wasn’t until the second landing area that she managed to see their source.
Below them, in the center of the five-towered hall, was the central meeting area. She remembered it from her classes as a child. But her most vivid memory was standing with Oliver, masters from each of the four other guilds, and a handful of others who were ready to die for Loom.
Now, where they had stood, where the Council of Five had made their pact to stand against the Dragons, to stand for Loom, wayward and homeless Fenthri roamed in a sort of controlled chaos.
Men and women poured in through the main entrance, funneled from the airfield and no doubt the few water ports still viable for docking. Some carried luggage, some had their hands laden with books. Others had empty palms and tattered clothing.
Barefoot and booted, the masses of Loom were ushered into the one place that had always stood against the Dragons: Ter.0. It was the home of the Vicar Tribunal and testament to the old ways. It had been the Territory people didn’t dare speak of, for fear of being accused of inciting rebellion. And now it was where Loom would begin anew.
Arianna no longer had trouble understanding Florence’s logic.
When Loom was all but destroyed, one place would always be home to every Fenthri, regardless of one’s guild. The wayward Raven Arianna had taken in years ago had the wisdom to bring them back there.
A smile snuck up on her as Arianna looked through the arcade of windows, at the flow of people below. It was a smile that quickly faded at the sound of a lone voice.
“Arianna?”
Arianna turned to meet two dark eyes, black as the outlined Raven on the girl’s cheek. The filtered light seemed to shine brighter, and the crumbling world built itself anew, simply because she was in one beautiful piece.
“Florence,” Arianna whispered.
Florence
“Arianna . . .” The name flowed from her like a familiar creed. It echoed old sentiments and resonated off the new corners of her personality that had been built in the white-haired woman’s absence.
There she was, Florence’s teacher and guardian, just as she remembered her. They’d been separated for months, and Florence had traveled half the world, across three territories, since they’d parted. She had seen guilds fall and good men die. She had the scars to speak of the battles she’d won, and lost.
In contrast, Arianna was the same as ever. Her white coat was far more tattered and soiled than Florence had ever allowed it to get previously, and she had to combat the urge to demand Arianna remove the article of clothing so that it could have a proper wash. But Florence had plenty of her own dirty laundry to attend to; she didn’t have time for Arianna’s any more.
“Florence,” Arianna echoed.
What did they do now? How could Florence hope to bridge the gap between them?
“I require a word with Arianna,” she announced decisively. It was then that Florence took in the rest of the room, those who had accompanied Ari to Ter.0. Louie opened his mouth to speak but Florence snuck in the first, and second, word. “Louie, I appreciate your assistance in helping Arianna get here.” The tone of “assistance” had the requisite bite. “I will discuss matters with you later.”
“I think—”
“I think if you would like whatever end game you’re playing toward, you will vacate this room immediately.” Her tone left no room for misinterpretation. There were many whom Florence would defer to. Louie was no longer one of them.
The man merely smirked. “You have grown, haven’t you, wayward little crow?”
“One part of that was correct, the other incorrect.” Florence pushed aside her smartly tailored jacket, resting her hand on the hilt of one of the revolvers that tugged on a thick belt around her hips.
“Of course. An easy mistake to make.” Louie tapped his cheek, referencing the Raven outline on Florence’s own.
“I wouldn’t test me.”
“Nor I, me.” The skeletal man gave her a long and piercing stare, but it didn’t even scratch the surface of her resolve, much less crack it. She had shot more frightening, powerful people than Louie point-blank. And all she had to do was remind herself of that fact whenever someone—anyone—tried to intimidate her. “We have far more to gain by working together, Florence.”
“As does all of Loom.” On that point, she could agree with the former king of Mercury Town.
Florence watched Louie and his crew depart down the stairs. They were like specters from a former life, creeping up from the shadows of her past. Eventually, she’d have to catch up with Will and Helen, but there was a sort of understanding there that came with old friends who had endured trials together.
Florence had history with everyone in the group, save Shannra. The moonlight-haired woman glanced back at her and gave Florence a hefty wink. They were still taking their time together, still evolving, and Florence couldn’t stop a grin at her newest companion’s antics.
Louie was ever unexpected. As loathe as Florence was to admit it, Shannra had been welcome company on Ter.0 while Florence had been organizing the initial structure of the resistance. Plus, the strange little man had brought Arianna back to her.
Her eyes swept back. Arianna had rested her goggles atop her forehead, at last revealing her striking, vermillion eyes—a bold splash of color in their gray world.