“That shouldn’t have been your call to make.” Vicar Ethel gave her a wary stare. “It should have fallen to the vicars.”
“And what tribunal? I created the box following the One Year War. There was no effective communication among the vicars, especially none that wasn’t monitored by Dragon ears.” Arianna met the other woman’s gaze. “Furthermore, the Dragon we worked with . . .” Arianna couldn’t bring herself to say Finnyr’s name. And she wouldn’t, not so long as there was any likelihood that they would need to work with House Xin. She wouldn’t taint the relationship out the gate. “He was working for the king all along. We had spies from every angle, and that was before the box was even well known.
“He was the one who infiltrated the rebellion and brought the Riders upon us. It was the dying wish of Eva, of Master Oliver, of every other Rivet, Revo, Raven, Harvester, and Alchemist involved that the research we produced be destroyed, rather than sequestered by the Dragon King.”
The room was silent, an instinctual mourning toward the mere idea of destroying information.
“But you didn’t destroy it?” Willard asked hopefully.
“I did.” Arianna stared down at them all. She was only midway up through the room, but felt as though she stood from the parapet of judgment itself. “I torched it. My work, theirs, every last bit of it is gone. And then, before they could fall from over-exposure to magic from imbibing to fight off the Riders, or before the Riders could get their claws on them… I killed them. Every last one.”
The air in the room was changing. It was charged with their shock and fear. And Arianna was the conduit for it all. She fed off it. She gleaned power from it.
Below her, Florence wore the smallest of smiles.
“And the box?” Willard seemed to be the only one who could find his voice.
“Just the one.” Arianna tapped her chest. “And the schematics for it are here.” She moved her fingers up to her temple.
“You’re a monster,” the Revolver from earlier whispered.
“I am.” Arianna made no effort to deny it. Let them be so fearful of her that they left her to the shadows and obscurity she much preferred. “I am not Fenthri and not Dragon. I am not limited by the confines of what Loom knows as a Chimera, either. I am a creature of my own creation, and that is why, if I am to share this knowledge with Loom, it will be when there is a plan for how it will be used.”
“What do you have in mind?” It seemed Vicar Dove had come around.
“I—”
“There’s only one.” An Alchemist was on his feet, a journeyman of little importance, judging from his seating placement in the back row. “There’s only one box and it’s in her.”
“Leo—” Vicar Ethel gave a cautioning tone.
“We just cut her open and see how it works.” The Alchemist looked to Willard. “You Rivets can take it apart. If she won’t give it to us, we take it from her.”
Arianna was not about to feel threatened by a child who looked no older than Helen and had half the manners.
“We are not going to take it by force.” Willard defended her. Arianna didn’t know if it was because of his instinct as her vicar out of respect for her work. Either way, she appreciated the gesture.
“He has a point.” Vicar Gregory finally spoke up. “There is little time before we can expect whatever the Dragon King has next for us, especially grouping like this. We need to defend ourselves.”
“A defense will be planned.” Florence reminded them all that she was there, raising her voice above the din. “It is why we are here.” She turned to the Alchemist journeyman. “Now, take your seat.”
“You can’t command me.”
“Take your seat, Leo,” Vicar Ethel ordered with a glare that almost swung to Florence after, for ordering one of her students.
“No, he has a point.” The Revolver from earlier stood. “I say we kill the traitor to Loom.” He drew his gun, leveling it at her.
“Let’s say you can kill me. Which is hard. Trust me, it’s hard. And you can quickly reverse engineer the box.” Arianna tilted her head to the side, her mouth curling into a grin. “I haven’t told you what type of flower you need from Nova. I haven’t told you the process to temper gold to get its properties. I haven’t explained the principles of the box. How long do you think Loom will last?” She held out her arms. “Fire, if you think you can discover those things before the Dragon King kills us all.”
The journeyman’s hand shook, the barrel of the revolver making tiny swings through the air.
“Or sit down, and let the adults figure out a way to make sure there is a Loom for you to inherit.” She dropped her hands to her sides.
For a brief moment, the Revolver had sense. But Arianna gave the situation too much credit. She now lived in a bent and broken world, where tensions where high and trigger-happy Revo initiates were elevated to journeymen before their time out of sheer necessity.
The boy took his shot.
Her ears rang, magic quickly healing the hearing damage from the gunshot in the small room. Dust plumed from a pockmark in the stone of the tier behind her. Arianna opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was the sound of another revolver firing.
Smoke disappeared from the barrel of Florence’s gun as the Revolver journeyman’s body hit the ground hard, blood pooling around his face from the bullet hole between his eyes. The entire room was silent. Arianna looked at the young woman who had been her apprentice. The girl she had pulled out of the Underground.
One shot, and those images were gone.
She didn’t know the woman who stood where Florence had been a moment ago. This woman moved the same as Florence, dressed the same as Florence. She even sounded the same as Florence. But Arianna saw her as if for the first time, and couldn’t help but wonder how long she had been there.
“Now is not the time for dissension,” Florence spoke softly, holstering her gun. “We stand together, or we don’t stand at all.”
No one spoke. No one moved. It seemed the whole room held its breath.
“Do you agree, Vicar Gregory?” Florence turned to the vicar of the man whom she had just slain in a blink.
“I do,” Gregory spoke after a long pause. “The Revolvers need to remember that for every shot we take, there should be two we hold back. With the power to kill comes the responsibility to protect life.”
“Well put.” Florence looked back to the room. “And protect life is just what we will do, with the power of the Perfect Chimera. But first, I believe the Vicar Harvester wanted to cover some matters of supplies . . .”
“Y-yes, thank you, Florence.” Powell cleared his throat, and launched into a lengthy discussion on their current resources.
Everyone else seemed engrossed, but Arianna’s focus was entirely on Florence. She was avoiding Arianna’s stare, even though she must have felt the weight of it.
Arianna hadn’t questioned the idea of throwing her loyalty entirely behind Florence.
But for the first time, she wondered just what, and whom, she was supporting. For the first time, she didn’t feel like the most dangerous person in the room.
Cvareh