But she didn’t move yet. “How do I know this isn’t a trick to impress me into the militia?”
The leftenant frowned at her, then sighed heavily. “Because we’ll be headed due east, not west by southwest, and that is all I can say. If you’re Rexei Longshanks, hired to pose as a Servers Guild apprentice, then you know why I cannot say.”
West by southwest was the direction of the Precinct headquarters, with its barracks and training yards. East of Heiastowne lay the Heias Dam, in a valley that had been blocked off. Its runoff powered various engines that drove the great presses and extrusion rollers of the Steelworks Guild and others. Eastward . . . was also the Vortex. The one place that could thoroughly confuse active magics and render mages too dizzy to concentrate if they weren’t keyed into the spells maintaining that sphere of instabilities.
Some of those spells prevented anyone from even talking about the fact there was more to the Heias Dam than power generation. Yes, she did know what he was talking about, and what he wasn’t able to talk about. The spells involved, enriched with generations of paranoia, prevented anything from being even hinted at in the presence of a priest or a priest sympathizer. To be questioned about it by a priest would cause complete amnesia regarding the secrets hidden behind the dam, or so she had been warned.
She didn’t know what the leftenant meant by, It starts here. This is where it starts. But she did know he was right about the priests’ reactions if they ever realized she knew about the demon-summoning thing. Because even without Mekha, they could band together, summon a powerful demon, and use the siphoned energies to power their own magics. If demons truly were superior to mages as a source, then the sheer level of power that could be siphoned from them was not a pleasant thought.
“Fine. But one hint of the wrong direction, and I’ll react badly,” she threatened, letting the implication sound as if she would attack him or steal his motorhorse and run. She’d run, but the most Rexei would do to him and the other militiaman would be to put them to sleep with a simple spell. A second one to make them forget they had ever met her, and she would be on her way with neither man the wiser. It was an escape plan that she already knew worked on priests, never mind non-mages. She’d been forced to test it on three in the past.
The leftenant flicked his hand at her meager belongings. “Hurry up, then. Don’t dawdle.”
Edging around him, she crossed to the cupboard built into the wall next to the bed. Pulling out her travel pack as well as her clothes, she stuffed them inside, added in the basket of crocheting needles and soft balls of wool that sat near the hearth, then stuffed in as many blankets as she could.
As she worked, the leftenant crouched in front of her hearth and used the tongs to nudge apart the coals. Once that was done, he replaced the grate. “Your lease will have to expire, but I’ll see you’re compensated for the refund lost. We don’t want rumors that you’ve fled to get out, so as far as your fellow tenants will know, you’ll just vanish.”
“If I’m to walk out of town, I should go at night, when I’m less likely to be recognized,” Rexei pointed out.
“You won’t walk,” he countered.
She looked at him. “And being dragged out of here on a militia motorhorse isn’t going to cause people to talk?”
“You’ll not walk all the way,” he amended. “Head for the east gate. As soon as I’ve dropped off my corporal, I’ll come back and pick you up. I should make it back by the time you’re less than a quarter-mile from the city.”
Crossing back to the cooking cupboards, she pulled out a leather sack and stuffed in her bag of crushed oats for porridge, a waxed round of cheese, a waxed paper packet of dried fruit slices, and a bag of mixed beans. The sausage end she stuffed into a half loaf of bread, wrapped it in a kerchief, and put it into her coat pocket.
“Once we get where we’re going, leftenant,” Rexei found herself stating as she swung around to face him, “I am going to question you thoroughly about how you know about what we are not talking about.”
That caused him to quirk one of his brows, but the leftenant merely gave her a slight half-mocking bow. “As you wish, Sub-Consul. Though it will become apparent if you’ll simply be quiet and watch.”
He headed for the door. Rexei discovered she had one more question. “Hey.”
He turned to face her. “Yes?”
“You got a name?” she asked. “Or should I just call you Leftenant? Somehow I don’t think they’ll be all that friendly toward your title.”
“It’s my rank, not my title, and they already know about it. But they mostly call me Rogen Tallnose when I’m there. Try to refrain from any jokes about the family name while you’re there,” he added dryly. “Be a good guest, Longshanks, and you’ll be treated well. Remember that.”
He walked out the door before she could do more than frown in confusion. The leftenant was roughly average in height, maybe a tiny bit taller, but by no means the tallest man in town. Nor was his nose particularly “tall” in appearance, though it was a little longer and pointier than average. Unable to think of a reason to make fun of his name, Rexei fished out the sausage and bread and gnawed on it, then remembered belatedly to pull out her waterskin and fill it from the keg that fed the washstand. The splashing water competed with the rumble of the motorhorse starting up.
When her uncooked supper was halfway eaten, she wrapped it up and stuffed it back into her pocket, then took herself outside and to the far end of the balcony where the refreshers were located. As she came back, she checked the alleyway. No sign of a motorhorse, so she ducked into her tenement, hefted her packs, and stepped out again. A quick look around showed her an empty balcony and no one in sight across the narrow street, so she placed the key along the upper edge of the doorframe once the room was locked.
With that taken care of, she hefted the pack so it sat more comfortably and headed down the stairs. Choosing a path that would get her out of the north gate of the city, she started walking. After three blocks, though, just as she passed the mouth of an alley, the sudden rumble of a motorhorse coming to life startled her. A quick glance to her right showed the leftenant on the machine, with no sign of the operator from earlier.
Rexei glared at him. Releasing the stopper pedal briefly, he coasted up next to her, then stilled the rumbling mount. “This isn’t the way to the east.”
“Any fool would head east right away. I know better when expecting pursuit,” she shot back.
For a moment, his mouth twisted wryly. Leftenant Tallnose tipped his head at the street she stood on, then at the second saddle position on his motorhorse. “I had a feeling you’d bolt, so I sent the corporal back on foot and picked your most likely route in this maze of streets. Get on. We’ll head north, then swing around east.”
For a second, she wanted to rest, to enspell him and run. But the Vortex was the safest place for her, and a motorhorse was considerably faster than a shank’s mare. Since she didn’t want to spend all night marching on foot in an inadequate coat while the temperatures dropped, she moved over to the side of his bike and awkwardly climbed aboard. Not because she was unfamiliar with motorhorses—no one reached journeyman status in the Messengers Guild without learning how to operate one of the machines—but because her belongings coupled with the greater height of the rear seat made climbing into place a bit awkward.