Into the Fire

Book 2 of 3 in Lenore’s storyline

Chapter 1 ~ Chance Meetings

Lenore trotted as quickly as she could through the marketplace without actually shoving anyone out of her way. It was busy today, and she didn’t want to be rude, but she also had a lot to get done in a very short space of time. Neal’s expedition launched in a week, and her to-do list was still as long as her arm, not that they hadn’t already accomplished much.

The expedition, which had been announced months back, was an important opportunity not just for Archeotechnologics, Lenore and Neal’s department, but for the entire Springhaven Museum. As Lenore was Neal’s apprentice, much of the preparation work had fallen on her, and she’d volunteered for even more on top of that. Over the last six months or so, she had helped train Ezra, the newest apprentice in Arc-Tech; helped apply for and arranged the necessary travel permits, tickets, and other documentation; double and triple checked Neal’s to-do lists; and traipsed all over the city of Springhaven to pick up this or deliver that. Honestly, she felt more like a glorified administrator than a machinist or scientist at the moment. She told herself that would change once they made it to Bone Port, that she’d be digging in the earth and uncovering long-lost secrets, but she hadn’t entirely convinced herself. From what she’d seen of Neal’s life, being the boss meant more managerial duties than actual fieldwork, and she was the boss’ right-hand woman.

Today’s primary goal was to ensure all the medicine and alchemical supplies that had been ordered either were ready to go or would be. Thus, she was on her way to Thyme’s Apothecary, but the crowd hampered her progress. Why was it so busy? It wasn’t a holiday, after all. Then Lenore saw them, the demonstrators sitting around the gazing pool at the edge of the Sand quarter. She instinctively changed her direction to avoid them.

The city had seen more than a few protests like this of late. They were peaceful in nature, sit-ins usually. Those were not seen as a threat and therefore technically legal, though the law permitted Enforcers to judge what was and was not threatening. The demonstrations had been growing in size, however, which raised the ire of the Enforcers. The small groups that had initially assembled in public places hadn’t seemed to bother the Enforcers much, but the number of Enforcers assigned to keep an eye on the protests had proportionally increased with the number of participants. As the number of people gathered on both sides rose, so did tensions. Sidelong gibes had become thinly veiled threats, and weapons beyond truncheons had begun to appear at the Enforcers’ sides.

Lenore already had less than no desire to be near Enforcers, lest one of them recognize her from her old life as a thief, but she especially wanted to avoid them when they were riled like this. It didn’t help that she also worried about Dmitri’s desertion from the Enforcer ranks and subsequent disappearance. Fourth Hawkins had come to the house with a small retinue of subordinates to question the Allen family about Dmitri’s whereabouts. Camilla had until a few weeks before that been in a publicly known romantic relationship with the disappeared young man. Camilla hadn’t attempted to hide how badly the breakup had hurt her, though it was impossible to tell whether or not that helped her case. That was not the last of the interrogations, but they had eventually stopped. It had left the entire family shaken. Rook had told them all not to worry about it, which Lenore guessed meant he knew more than he was saying, but this suspicion didn’t do much to assuage the Allens’ fears. Rook always did keep things close to the vest.

Comforting words also came from Falcon Smoke, an acquaintance of Camilla’s and also an Enforcer. He wasn’t, of course, permitted to speak about the specifics of the case but hinted strongly to Camilla that the family was not suspected in any wrongdoing. Lenore wondered why Camilla had made friends with yet another Enforcer, considering how she deplored their order, but Lenore had to admit Falcon seemed a perfectly decent human being. Behind closed doors, he had admitted to Lenore he didn’t agree with all the Enforcers’ methods, but he saw good in what they were trying to do. Lenore was curious as to why and thankful that he and Camilla were not courting, especially after he had swooped in as a source of support just after Dmitri had ended things with her.

Falcon had sought out Camilla soon after their first meeting, finding her during a blissfully quiet moment in Mina’s practice—a suitably public place for such an encounter—under the pretext of ensuring the safety of two gentlewomen in such a strenuous environment. Anyone who knew Mina and Camilla would find this laughable, but it didn’t matter in Falcon’s case because that wasn’t the real reason for his visit. Having seen Camilla’s shock at learning of Dmitri’s suspension, he’d wanted to check on her well-being. It was a sweet gesture and had served to start a friendship between the two.

As she walked, Lenore scanned the blue and grey clad Enforcers present to ensure she avoided them, even friendly ones like Falcon. As she looked, she trod on something soft and jumped back at the following sound of surprise.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” Lenore blurted. “Are you alright?”

Lenore had just stepped on an immaculately dressed woman’s boot, leaving a dusty print across the otherwise perfect black calfskin.

“Oh, my dear, you gave me such a fright!” the woman replied.

“And I’ve marred your lovely footwear. I do apologize,” Lenore said, still almost tripping over herself in her embarrassment.

“Ah, I have someone to help with that. Not to worry, darling. Are you alright, though? You look peaky.”

“Yes, ma’am, I am. I mean, I’m fine, thank you.”

“Very good. No harm done then. This crowd is a bit much, isn’t it?”

Lenore released a sigh. “It’s certainly not making it easy to get around.”

“Indeed. Shall we try to make our way through together? Perhaps it will be easier as a team.”

“Of course,” Lenore agreed, still wanting to make up for trampling the woman’s foot.

The woman took Lenore’s arm in hers and began to excuse-me their way through the mob.

The woman was much larger than Lenore in girth and height, which, in conjunction with her splendid clothing, made her an imposing figure. It helped, but the people around them still had to find space to let them through. Progress was steadier than it had been but still slow.

“Tell me, where are you off to today?” the woman asked as they walked.

“Thyme’s Apothecary,” Lenore answered. “And you?”

“I had hoped to do some browsing, but today is apparently not the day for such luxuries,” the woman replied with a sigh. “Why Thyme’s Apothecary? Are you certain you’re quite well, darling? I do hope no one in your life is poorly.”

“Thankfully, no. My mentor is heading up an archeological expedition soon, and we’ve ordered some supplies from there. I’m to make sure all is in order.”

“How very exciting! And unfortunate for any poor gent you’re leaving behind. Surely a catch like you isn’t unattached.”

The woman gave Lenore an encouraging wink, and Lenore laughed. As she spoke again, her mind drifted to Eamon and then to Rook.

“It’s worked out rather conveniently. He’s an apprentice in a different department and is also going.”

“That’s so lovely for you both,” the woman cooed. “You’re fortunate to have shared interests.”

“Indeed we are,” Lenore agreed.

The appropriate thank-yous and goodbyes were exchanged once the two made it to the other end of the vast market, and Lenore hurried on to her destination.

Fetch watched Lenore scamper away, rolling over in her head what she had gleaned from the encounter. This was the girl Rook had wanted to protect, the one on whom someone had ordered a hit. Odd. She seemed so… innocuous. Nevertheless, Fetch had new information to go on. Her investigation for Rook could continue.

)(

“Nori, hello!” trilled Ginger Oran when Lenore walked in. “I have the best thing to show you!”

“Perhaps we should ask if there’s something we can assist Miss Lenore with first,” Thyme, Ginger's mother, suggested.

Ginger sighed and said dramatically, “Welcome to Thyme's Apothecary, Miss Lenore. How may I help you today?”

“Perhaps next time you'll do it with less sarcasm,” Thyme muttered.

Ginger grinned impishly at that.

“I’m here for the order Neal placed,” Lenore explained, brandishing an order slip from her satchel. “And then I’d love to see whatever you have to show me.”

Ginger winked and beckoned Lenore to follow. “Mint’s in the back attending to it. I think you and Engineer Allen will be very pleased.”

Lenore followed Ginger through a door in the back to the apothecary’s stockroom. The entire store made Lenore’s hair stand on end. It had a smell about it she could never quite identify. It was slightly spicy and sweet like the little cakes the Oran family served at tea, but there was something else about it too, something heady that made Lenore uncomfortable. She knew it must be from all the different herbs, spices, tinctures, and concoctions tucked into every little nook and cranny.

There were cabinets full of differently sized drawers, each one containing powders, dried leaves and/or petals, or whole ingredients waiting to be ground. Shelves lined every wall and displayed bottles, jars, baskets, boxes, and even a few cages. One section behind the counter was locked behind a set of metal-grated, sliding doors, the padlocks prominently displayed. There were even several collections of barrels around, though each one was topped with a smaller container that stored easier-to-manage amounts of what was beneath.

Lenore was fascinated by and a little afraid of what all the different compounds in this building could do. The Orans, of course, knew their business and had the really dangerous stuff locked away. Still, it was a frightening prospect what a mixture of just a few ingredients could accomplish.

The back room was not as well lit as the front of the shop—fewer windows—but plenty of lanterns made up the difference.

“Minty!” Lenore sang at seeing the other Oran twin.

Mint and Ginger were nearly identical, save for the coppery hue in Ginger’s hair and Mint’s hazel eyes, as opposed to Ginger’s brown ones. Otherwise, both girls had curvy figures, similar heights, freckles, and their family’s gift with plants.

“Hello, Nori!” Mint replied, carrying a miniature barrel over to a large collection of variously sized crates and other similar containers. “Nearly done with your order. Whew! I don’t envy you or your team.”

“Thank you,” Lenore said, slumping at the sight of all the vessels. She straightened back up, took out her clipboard, and spoke with a tone that sounded more like she was about to face off against a live bear than an inventory list. “Take me through it, please.”

Mint talked Lenore through each crate and barrel, highlighting any important handling instructions. Lenore’s pencil moved furiously, ticking items and making notes.

“I’d like everything labeled clearly and in large letters, please,” she said. Not that she was concerned. Everything in the apothecary shop was well labeled, but she needed to say it for her own peace of mind.

Mint smiled and nodded and continued the tour of supplies.

)(

Dusk was falling by the time Lenore left Thyme’s Apothecary. She looked around nervously. She had not been attacked since that night out with Eamon so many months ago, but her guard remained up. Two separate assassination attempts told her whoever was behind this would not stop until she was dead.

Since that night, someone often accompanied Lenore. During the day was less of a concern, but always at night. Eamon, Rook, any of the Allen family, and once in a while under one pretext or other even Eamon’s family coach driver, Richardson, had all served in the effort to keep Lenore safe. Lenore had been overjoyed at hearing Richardson was alive and well after the last assault, having only been knocked unconscious and smuggled into his own rear boot. The thought someone might have died on her account had made her feel ill. Reliably scheduling someone was proving to be a challenge, however, as busy as Lenore had been of late.

Lenore had no intention of walking all the way back to the Rose district from here in Copper by herself. She was dubious about hailing a cab, though. Anyone watching her, waiting to catch her alone and vulnerable, could easily steal a cab and dress as a driver. She didn’t care if the thought was paranoid; she wasn’t willing to take chances. She was about to turn around and head back inside the shop—she’d fake an illness if she had to—when a familiar figure materialized out of the shadows.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Lenore said, more pleased to see Rook than she could express.

“I know,” he replied, grinning and waggling his eyebrows at her. “You ready?”

Lenore nodded, and they set off. She didn’t need to ask how he had known where she was or that she might be in danger. The vow Rook had made to her father forced him to protect her and somehow acted as an early warning system. Plus, he was always keeping tabs on her, which Lenore suspected he rather enjoyed.

They chatted idly as they walked. Their out-in-the-open relationship was so natural now they donned these personas like a well-worn jacket. Propriety was the only reason they couldn’t be completely themselves in public. Lenore and Rook were far closer than was considered proper, especially given Lenore’s committed courtship with Eamon. Their history and the circumstances of it, however, had circumvented the usual avenues people took in their personal relationships. Thus, they pretended to be no more than casual friends.

When Rook dropped Lenore off at her front door, she was surprised to see him ready to hurry off. He usually walked her inside to ensure nothing was amiss within.

“I’ve got somewhere to be,” he said, touching Lenore’s nose affectionately. “Shall I come by to see you tonight?”

“No need to change your schedule just for me,” she replied. “Besides, I’ve got another long day tomorrow. I need my sleep.”

“As you wish,” Rook said with a smile and a bow.

He watched her go inside before bounding away into the night.

)(

Rook stood like a soldier at attention with his arms behind his back. He didn’t like working with the Reaper, but he… she?… it?… smuggled some of the most hard-to-come-by goods in Springhaven. It was widely known in the underworld the Reaper demanded respect, so Rook had to play the part. A few of Reaper’s goons stood by to make sure Rook didn’t try anything. Rook had, of course, brought a handful of his own people for the same reason. Bringing thugs along to meetings was simply what one did in Rook and Reaper’s line of work.

Rook scanned the room. It was large and open with a packed earth floor. The slick stone walls were covered in places with some kind of glowing plant life, and a few braziers along the perimeter added to their eerie illumination. Skulls were arranged around the brazier bases. The Reaper certainly did like his theatrics.

Rook smiled to himself at seeing the back of one of the Collective member’s heads. The Collective was what Reaper called his syndicate. Rook, of course, couldn’t see the man’s face due to the, frankly, absurd masks they all wore. Round, glass, soulless eyes stared unblinkingly ahead from an expressionless countenance of brass and leather. A grate was all that served for a mouth. Rook would know the clean line of that neatly trimmed hair anywhere, though. There was a reason Dmitri had fit in so well with the Enforcers. He was nothing if not disciplined, even in his grooming. Rook leaned over and whispered so quietly to the still, well kempt figure that his voice was more breath than sound.

“So this is where you ended up,” he said. “Not terrible. I hear the pay is good anyway.” No reaction. Not to worry. Rook kept his comments vague just in case he was mistaken. He almost laughed at the idea, but best to play it safe. “I like the outfit. Very fetching.” Still nothing. Rook pressed harder. “You’re lucky your sudden departure didn’t endanger anyone we know.”

There it was, a tightening of muscles in the neck and back. It was subtle, but Rook had been looking for something like it and so spotted it easily.

“My offer still stands, in case you ever change your mind,” he added.

“Stop… talking… to me,” hissed out of the mask, echoing like steam escaping a pipe.

Rook drew back and suppressed a laugh. “My, that is eerie. Very effective. Perhaps I should start wearing one. I just wanted to let you know. Good chat.”

Rook looked back to the work being done. He was buying a variety of items from Reaper today, including a case of the Northern Spiced Wine Fetch liked, some hard-to-come-by fruits from the south—diversity was one of the things that made his underground market so successful—and a sample of what the Reaper claimed was Verisap. For the latter, the Reaper had contacted Rook personally, as Rook had long had feelers out for a source. Having that would make extracting information much less messy.

)(

Lenore ran her gaze over the Arc-Tech department slowly, reciting to herself all the things she needed to ensure were done. All of Neal’s tasks had been delegated, mostly to Copper, though Dempsey had been given a few, partially as a show of good faith by Neal and partly to test whether he could handle the responsibility. After Dempsey had failed to stick to his given script last summer regarding the museum’s successful cross-departmental study into the mechanics of flight, Neal hadn’t entrusted much to the post-graduate student. Now that things had simmered down on all sides, Neal had decided it was time to start fresh. The changes allowed Neal to focus on the upcoming expedition, which had been Lenore’s ambition, though she kicked herself for it lately. She took another deep breath—she found herself doing that a lot nowadays—and continued through her list.

“Ezra?” she called, her voice echoing off the high ceiling of the workshop.

“Sloop,” came the lad’s muffled response.

Lenore walked over to the Subaquatic Sloop, an ancient machine of the Old World that resided in the back of the Arc-Tech department. Bending over, she looked underneath and found, as she knew she would, her fellow apprentice with his sketchpad.

“What is that pile of stuff on Copper’s desk?” she asked. “It looks like some of the alchemists just dumped their rubbish there.”

“Dunno,” Ezra replied, not looking away from his work.

Ezra, Lenore knew, was creating drawings and diagrams and other documentation for the expedition, which, among so many other things, aimed to understand how the Subaquatic Sloop might have worked. They weren’t about to risk transporting it back to Bone Port, however, much less reintroduce the thing to the ocean. Instead, Neal meant to try and recreate a crude version there, but they would need lots of information about the real one. Ezra, it turned out, had a good bit of artistic talent and so had been tasked with documenting every inch of the ancient wonder.

“Copper is at Neal’s usual management meeting, though, yes?” Lenore asked.

“Yup.”

“And he’s finished verifying your completed documentation?”

“Yup.”

“And he’s signed the responsibility transfer forms?”

“Yup.”

“And he knows about the upcoming project with Scholar Nash?”

“The what?”

“The thing with the bones and the slots,” Lenore explained, not actually all that familiar on the details of the project herself.

“No. No idea.”

“But… they discussed it just yesterday. He needs to…”

Lenore trailed off as Ezra’s face broke into a huge grin. She scowled at him for a split second before giving up the fight against her laughter.

“You’re so annoying,” she said, swatting the metal shell of the Subaquatic Sloop, making it ring dully.

“Don’t treat her like that,” Ezra said, stroking the machine’s body affectionately. “She’s a delicate, old lady.”

“Then come out here so I can hit you.”

“Enticing offer,” Ezra replied, not moving.

Lenore laughed again and walked off. It was a shame Ezra wasn’t coming on the expedition. He knew the SS, as she had taken to calling it to save time, better than anyone now. She understood his love for the machine, as it had been what had first enchanted her when she interviewed for her position. Their department was too small to support them both going, though. She spared one final glance at Copper’s desk. The odd, little boxes and bottles full of strange, alchemical components camped there were the only bit of disarray to be seen in his space. He certainly was a tidier manager than Neal. She looked at her clipboard. Time to move on.

)(

My dear Kieran,

Bone Port is the single most spectacular place in all of Invarnis, not that I am in any way biased… never me. You know you cannot deny it. When the waves crash against the Thunder Cliffs, is it not like being in the very midst of a mighty storm? Thankfully, without all the associated threats of getting picked up and tossed by capricious winds to our deaths into that great turquoise sea. Not that such things concern the likes of you and me.

The city proper of Bone Port is a star field of small islands and smaller sandbars, some of which disappear and reappear with the changing tides, all of which look to that slender crescent moon coast as mother. Travel between these, though possible by island bridge, is often by canoe and kayak. The sea, that green sky gently cupping each star-island, is life. Whales and fish and seal-kind teem and thrive and fly within those depths.

The people of my beloved home are like the coast, constantly changing with the weather and water. They are resilient and adaptable. They are a proud people, yet they are without conceit. It was because of the Bone Portis that we ever had trade with the people across the sea, though that blasted War of Light saw an end to that. Oh, but I am getting sentimental, and you had questions for me.

The devastation was horrific. People think they can imagine ruin because they’ve seen glimpses of the Char district. They have no idea. Swaths of the city were leveled in seconds as rings of gold, orange, and white energy pulsed forth in deadly ripples. And from a single person! Those desperate magi lost their lives in the effort, of course, but they took as many with them as they could. I am glad for my sake that I do not remember the exact site of many of those attacks, though for yours I am sorry. As I do not spend as much time underground as you do, I haven’t the foggiest as to whether your friends would find any bones, even if they knew where to look. How long do buried human skeletons last? You must let me know in your next letter. I imagine it must be quite a long time, based on what I’ve heard… at least, I assume these scholars aren’t making it all up.

You will likely have better luck searching for their artifacts, machines and technology and the like. The buildings are just about all gone in Bone Port—you can’t build great stone edifices on sand and basalt the way you can on the red clay here—so you won’t find any ruins. The coves and grottoes might hold some secrets, however. Those magic-users hid somewhere during the war. Those nooks and crannies are as good a place as any, but there are places not even I could reach to get confirmation. I do know of at least one cache where you might even find some books, though I cannot speak for their condition after over a hundred years. They looked fairly safe when I left them, though.

Search inland for your buried treasures. If I remember correctly, that bulbous swimming contraption was found by chance after a storm. The sand is tricky in that way. It will swallow and move and regurgitate as it sees fit. Things buried in the jungle will stay put, though getting to them is a… squishy process. The skies were alight with fire and lightning back then, and many of their flying machines dove below the canopy, never to emerge again. The jungle is always changing. Like a puddle, it has grown and stretched and shrunk over the years, sharing space with the tall grasses and surrounding marshlands.

Advise your friends to be wary of the creatures in those wild lands. The animals and even the insects can be as dangerous as they are beautiful… even more so in some cases. I have enclosed some old remedies my nurses always kept on hand. Just don’t say from where you got them—or any of this information, for that matter—but you, of course, already knew that.

Before you go, come by after I close up. There is more I’d like to tell you… you can see through me, can’t you? I know what you’re thinking. I just want someone to reminisce to. Well, you’d be right. My windows are always open to you, old friend.

In the night,

Calandra

Kieran smiled as he read over the letter. She was so shameless. Though who could blame her? Certainly not him. He decided to go sooner rather than later. Whatever information she could impart was likely invaluable. He knew how different Bone Port was from Springhaven. The two city-states had been separated for over a hundred years, after all. Not that he had experienced the coast in the traditional sense, and he hadn’t visited for long—being forced to live nocturnally in a beach paradise did make one rather depressed—but even his limited knowledge told him Neal and Lenore were in for quite a surprise.

)(

The rest of the week flew by. Honestly, it might not have been so busy had Lenore stopped checking things after the second time, but she didn’t want to risk anything falling through the cracks. Travel arrangements were checked, a few being carried out ahead of the main group so the Bone Port team could get a head start on the more time-consuming tasks; documents were collected, verified, and sorted; farewells were said over teas and dinners and a final send-off, open-to-the-press luncheon at the museum; and final inoculations were administered.

Mina had taken it upon herself to research the potential health risks life in the south imposed. Most of these either involved diseases that seemed to only occur in the hot, muggy conditions of a jungle climate or injuries incurred from whaling, fishing, or shark attacks. She procured what medicines she could, though only some vaccines were available outside of Bone Port.

That was one more thing to curse about the War of Light. Mina’s studies had led her to believe medical science had been vastly more advanced in the Old World, though how much of it had been attainable only through magic was unknown. She’d never say so aloud outside the security of the manor, but Mina often wondered how much life could be improved if magic hadn’t been destroyed… well, mostly destroyed. Kieran’s very existence showed it was still present to some degree, though she suspected vampyrism was less about magic and more about… something else, though she had trouble articulating what her mind imagined that might be.

And speaking of that sneaky lovable Vampyre, how and where had he gotten some of those so-called home remedies? Mina had begun to question him, but the familiar smirk on his face told her he wasn’t about to give up his source. She had smiled back and settled for simply thanking him. Since the nigh-unbelievable medical feats of the Old World—flesh melting and molding itself back together within a matter of hours, strange contraptions that allowed physicians to see inside of a person, potions that treated invisible diseases—remained unavailable to Mina, she would take whatever she could get to keep Neal, Lenore, and the rest of their team safe and healthy. How many lives could magic have saved, though, if it had not been so bent on destroying them instead?

Out of the Shadows

Across the Ice

Raven’s Cry

Falcon’s Favor