Tinker's Justice (33 page)

When they reached Rynn’s quarters and the door slammed shut behind her, Rynn found that K’k’rt had ended up on her side of it. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

“Keeping as close to you as I can,” K’k’rt replied. “My life might not be worth much here if you die.”

“Well … turn around or something at least,” Rynn said. She didn’t have time to argue, already pulling off her shirt and squirming into the under-padding for the runed armor she had made for herself.

“Those were Kadrin uniforms, you know,” K’k’rt observed. Rynn spared a glance and saw that he was watching the door, not her change of clothing.

“So does that mean Dan is behind this?”

“Could be,” K’k’rt replied. “Could also be that your father’s daruu friend made some allies.”

Rynn slipped the armor plates over her front and back, quickly buckling them into place. She had researched history books on armor making before designing them, and had been appalled that knights couldn’t get into the stuff on their own. She had left no such glaring deficiency in her design. Buckling on the straps for the arm plates was tougher, mainly because one arm couldn’t help, but she managed that in short order. The helm snugged into place with a single chin strap, and she was ready for battle.

“You look ridiculous,” K’k’rt observed, gawking up at her.

Rynn pulled out her coil gun. “It’s not a formal dinner down there; it’s a war. You coming?”

K’k’rt chuckled. It sounded odd without the gravelly rasp to it that had been a product of his age. “I wouldn’t mind waiting things out up here.”

“Up to you. If this isn’t your fight, we can send you home when this is over.”

K’k’rt’s eyes widened. Home was the last place he wished to be, and she knew it. “But—”

“If you want this to be home, you’re gonna have to fight for it.”

K’k’rt glared at her, but after a seething breath, he relented. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Jamile rushed down the hall of the lunar headquarters in her nightclothes, with her shoes tucked under one arm. The lunar stone was rough and cold as her bare soles slapped against the floor. Cadmus had been gone when she awoke, but he snuck away often enough that it was not cause for alarm. She already had alarm to spare, to donate, or to sell at a loss. She just needed to get to the world-rippers.

“Cadmus!” she shouted as she approached the main chamber. “There’s been an attack!”

She stopped short when she saw that it was Greuder at the controls of the world-ripper, not the Mad Tinker. “Where’s—” but she stopped herself short. There in the viewframe, Cadmus was walking down a stone tunnel lit by a soft blue glow, pointing a coil gun at a daruu a few paces ahead of him.

Greuder spared a glance over his shoulder. “What’s this about an attack?”

Jamile spread her arms wide, inadvertently letting her shoes tumble to the floor. “It’s an attack. We’re under attack!”

Greuder turned his attention back to Cadmus on the other side of the viewframe. “Gut me. What’re we going to do now?”

Jamile pointed to Cadmus. “Bring him back. We need to help them! Help us. How did Vaulk not notice the
Jennai
shaking like a runaway trolley?”

“We’re sound sleepers, Vaulk and I,” Greuder replied. “And I can’t just bring Cadmus back. He’s found his old owner and he’s about to get payback for Erefan’s death. I’m not sure that he’d come willingly, even with the
Jennai
at stake.”

A sleepy voice called from the side corridors. “What’s going on?”

“Kaia!” Jamile shouted. “Get over here. Cadmus is gone on some vendetta, and it’s down to us to save the
Jennai
.”

“Huh?”

“They’re under attack!” At least with Kaia it was forgivable, not being twinborn. “Go wake up Kupe and Anzik.”

Kaia fought back a yawn. “I sent Anzik to the
Jennai
last night.”

“Well … just get Kupe!”

“What are you thinking?” Greuder asked.

Jamile rushed to the controls of one of the river’s world-rippers. “First I’m going to bring Sosha here; then, we’re going to start evacuating the wounded.” Beneath her breath she muttered. “Blast it, Madlin. Where are you?”

Madlin sat with her hands in her lap, staring at the small array of world-rippers she had constructed. She had wanted to create a weapon smaller and more versatile than the World Ender Cannon, but so far she had failed. Connecting one end to a volcano was nice, but the heat was hardly an effective long-range weapon; she would be better off just opening a world-hole and firing a coil gun through. If only she had a coil gun with her. In the isolation of her hidden lair, it had seemed redundant to bring one.

The one thing she had yet to try with the device was the one thing she most feared. Connecting one end to the heart of the sun ought to devastate anything on the far side. But Madlin, in reading up on stellar theory, had found reason to be cautious. Some scientists theorized that a star was the entry point for energy into the universe. More practical ones had calculated the temperature required to warm Korr from so far away, and the numbers had a frightening number of zeroes in them. Yet others claimed that traditional physics broke down, and that stars exhibited behaviors that defied current understanding. In light of those claims, the little tinkered arrangement of steel, copper, and dragonhide seemed a paltry defense. She would test it with a timer, and make sure that no one was in the hideaway when it went off. If it worked as she hoped, there would be ample evidence in the aftermath, even without witnessing the event as it occurred.

But there was no time. The
Jennai
was under attack now. And without access to a world-ripper that she could fit her shoulders through, Madlin was stuck. Her own paranoia had left her stranded while Rynn fought for her life.

With proper armor on, Rynn felt invincible. The feeling lasted until she saw the first pack of Kadrin soldiers advancing on her. With K’k’rt clinging to her shadow, she was rounding the corner heading toward the front-portside world-ripper, hoping to secure it, when four spear-wielding Veydrans caught sight of her.

They shouted something in their own language. Two of them crouched low, spears presented against a charge. The other two used the soldiers in front as cover and hurled their spears. Rynn stumbled over her tinker’s legs trying to back out of the way and get behind the corner for cover. One spear thumped harmlessly against her chest plate, the other glanced off the side of her helmet.

As she hit the ground on her back, Rynn spared a thought for K’k’rt, hoping she hadn’t crushed him in her fall. But the old tinker wasn’t acting so old anymore; he was already around the corner Rynn had been retreating toward. The Kadrin soldiers did not waste their advantage, rushing forward to finish off their downed adversary. The two who had disarmed themselves drew stubby swords from their belts, pushing past the spear wielders as the latter worked to stand while being jostled.

Rynn tried to scramble to her feet, but as accustomed as she was to the tinker’s legs, they weren’t built for such contortions. As the four Veydrans barreled toward her, she pictured them falling upon her, overpowering her, and sliding one of those ugly little swords through a gap in her armor. Propping herself up on an elbow, she took hasty aim and fired. And fired. And fired.

“They’re good and dead,” K’k’rt said, poking his head around the corner.

Rynn nodded, her breath coming too quick to easily form words. She climbed to her feet and stepped around the gore and the growing pool of blood. One Kadrin moaned, not yet dead from his wounds. He muttered something in his own language. Rynn took aim at his head and looked away. When she pulled the trigger, there was a click, but no shot. She had emptied the coil gun.

As she dug in a pouch for more ball bearings, K’k’rt retrieved one of the Kadrins’ swords. The weapon was ludicrous in his hands; it could have been a sharpened shovel for the goblin. Taking the hilt in both hands, he spoke something to the Kadrin and slit his throat. Rynn was caught by surprise and didn’t manage to look away before watching the light go from the Kadrin soldier’s eyes.

“What did you say to him?” Rynn asked.

K’k’rt chuckled, dropping the sword to the deck plates with a clatter. “I told him he’d be seeing the rest of his friends soon.”

Davlin crouched by the viewframe of the rear-starboard world-ripper, with his coil gun aimed for the door to the rest of the ship. Through the other door, the one that led to the protected control console, a technician’s hands flew over the dials, rounding up a raid team that had been sent to hold off local authorities that had been party to a dispute in Khesh. Keeping order amid border and cattle ownership disputes was an acceptable use for soldiers—in peacetime. Now was the time for a soldier’s true duty: the defense of his people.

Already, two Veydrans lay dead at the door. Davlin had only two soldiers with him when he had arrived, and now had six more who had been retrieved from Tellurak. Davlin had killed both Veydrans himself, before help had arrived.

“Forgive me, Eziel, for I have turned my weapon upon my brothers. I killed with neither vengeance nor anger, but only forgiveness. In your light may they find peace and camaraderie in the next life. In your wisdom, send me the enemies of my people, and not the wayward souls whose hearts have been led down the path of fratricide. Give us the strength of one people, to stand against the foes who come against us. So we implore.”

“So we implore,” the soldiers around him muttered.

There was quiet following the prayer. The soldiers fidgeted, and breath came heavy. The reek from the two fresh corpses by the door turned Davlin’s stomach. There had been nothing in the old texts about the smell, but he remembered it well from his days working for the militia. Korrish or Veydran, a dead human smelled the same.