“It is. But you are no journeyman.”
“What am I, then?” Now was not the time to make such a demand, especially not when they were about to enter a dangerous situation. But Florence didn’t hesitate. “You said I was a Revo on Ter.0.”
“The masters have not yet discussed your official status, Florence.” Master Joseph stepped in to play damage control. “Perhaps that is something we can look into after this test.”
Gregory looked at Florence the entire time Joseph spoke. Florence didn’t take her eyes away. She refused to allow anyone to think they could intimidate her.
“Let’s go.” Gregory motioned for the Raven to lead up the ladder.
Florence had entered the Underground through the Ravens’ Guild, but this was a different pathway than last. She tried to make sense of where she might be, dredged up old memories of her childhood in the guild, but it wasn’t until she saw a level marker along the main helix that she knew. They had a long way to go before they could even be seen by a Dragon, and that assumed any were currently flying around.
“It’s odd to see it so quiet,” Florence mused softly as they stepped onto the main track.
“I could grab us a trike?” the Raven offered, clearly compelled to fill the space with the sounds of engines churning and wheels spinning.
“Best to keep it quiet,” Gregory shot down the idea. “Don’t want to draw too much attention.”
They continued up the track on foot. Florence adjusted her grip on her gun, peering around corners as they passed. She had seen Dragons landing on the guild hall for stretches of time before taking off again. But it was entirely possible that they had begun to set up operations as they cleared different portions of the building, working their way downward in search of their prey.
There were no markers of Dragons anywhere, however. No markers of any other life, and the silence quickly became uncomfortable. Florence swallowed hard, looking around the group. There was no reason why they should all be so silent. The path they walked had every appearance of being safe and no one—not even Thomas with his Dragon ears—had any reason to believe there were enemies nearby.
Nevertheless, their lips had been sewn shut with invisible strings.
“We’re here,” the Raven said finally. “Halfway.”
“Take us to the closest room with one exit and no windows,” Gregory demanded. “We’ll wait there.”
The Raven led them to a small interior room that was little more than an access for the back panels that supplied electricity to the guild. It was a good thing the Alchemists had been hard at work developing alternatives to electricity, because the generators had long since stopped running and the room would’ve been completely dark without each of their torches.
“How long do you think it will take?” the man named Willie asked.
“However long it takes.” Vicar Gregory settled into a seated position, his prized weapon across his lap.
Florence used the opportunity to inspect it more closely. She scanned the wires, the multipliers, the gold channels that ran along the outside and peeked out from the inside. There was something about it that seemed off, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. As a result, she couldn’t even be sure there was anything wrong. Perhaps Gregory had seen his error after all and fixed it. Maybe that was why he’d let her come along—a silent nod to her help, however little credit he’d actually give her.
“So, does it use a canister?” Master Joseph made the Revolver’s equivalent of small talk.
“Only as a primer to get the reaction going. The rest is magic, after that.” Gregory seemed much more inclined to discuss the logistics of his weapon with someone he deemed his equal.
“So the wielder must be a Chimera?”
“Yes, though not a Perfect one.”
Florence couldn’t deny the merit of the idea. Making Perfect Chimera already felt like it was taking too long, and she was likely the person who would be the most patient with Arianna on the matter. It was also resource-intensive and mostly untested.
But making a gun . . . Most of those still alive on Loom were Chimeras—the healing powers of magic helped many who might not have otherwise survived the attacks on the guilds. If they could perfect this weapon and mass-produce it . . . Between that and Perfect Chimera, Loom would be unstoppable.
The conversation had faded and several of the party were dozing by the time Thomas sat up straight. Florence felt the familiar crackle of magic in the air that heralded a whisper link. Thomas brought his hand to his ear.
“Yes?” Thomas asked the person on the other end of his magical tether. Everyone in the room roused swiftly. “Middle floor . . . landing area . . . by a large crane . . .”
“Airship test pad.” The Raven knew the place instantly.
“Is it far?” Gregory stood.
“Not very, up a bit more.”
“Master Joseph, you focus on protecting the Raven as he leads us,” Gregory commanded. “I will be up running point with them. I want Thomas and Willie watching flanks. Florence and Shannra, take up the rear.”
It was an important and sometimes life-saving position, but no Revolver wanted to be put in the back, away from the front line and all the action. Yet again, Florence had no doubt this would come back as some slight against her.
They all voiced their agreement and set off as Gregory had instructed. If the tension was heavy when they ascended the tower, it was multiplied several times over now that they knew a Dragon was present. Everyone kept their breathing low, weapons drawn. Florence wished, not for the first time, that she had sought out an Alchemist for Dragon ears. Not having them suddenly felt like a severe limitation.
Shannra glanced around warily; Florence put her trust in the other woman’s magic and long pointed ears. Her head jerked and the Master Revolver held up his hand, looking in the same direction that Shannra was fixated on. Magic pulsed. Thomas raised his hand to his ear.
“Two more have—”
“One incoming!” Shannra announced, leveling her gun in the direction of a side hall. If Florence could feel the pulse of magic from Thomas’s whisper link, then surely any Dragon would’ve been drawn to it.
“I have the bastard in my sights,” Gregory proclaimed, hoisting his weapon.
Florence watched as the vicar’s gun slowly lit up. She felt his magic spike and the metal began to glow. Magic sparked off the gold in rainbow fractals that shone like embers and disappeared before hitting the ground. Alchemical runes shimmered. Power continued to build in the multipliers, lighting up the gun like a beacon to all Dragons nearby.
All at once, Florence knew why the gun had seemed so wrong to her.