“And so that’s why the runeglass is cycling through inscriptions,” said Max. “You’re trying to identify what the proper symbol is. You’re cracking a safe.”
“Trying to,” said David. “But the Workshop’s people are very smart. There’s a lot of cryptography at play, and while we’re trying to optimize the testing, it’s very slow going. Theoretically, it could take years to play out the permutations. I’m trying to accelerate things, but we’re hoping Peter has a breakthrough.”
“What David means is that we’re trying to cheat,” Varga chuckled. “I’ve been trying to concentrate on Prusias’s army and see if I can glean any information about these creatures or what they summon. I get glimpses, but they’re hazy. Little more than impressions.”
“What can you make out?” asked Max.
“Not enough,” muttered Varga, closing his eyes. “I can hear the pinlegs scuttling all around. There’s light and sound. So much sound! At first it’s like thunder, but then there are horns—they grow louder and louder. It’s hard to endure them. The earth shakes. I’m looking up, but something’s blotting out the sky. I can’t see it clearly, but it’s huge. And then darkness.” The man opened his eyes and cleared his throat. “There’s death in those visions.”
“And we’d like to avoid it,” remarked Miss Boon. “The plan is to deconstruct this thing’s operations and find a way to sabotage them if we ever encounter them on our shores. We’re not there yet, but we’re hopeful that some of Sir Alistair’s intelligence will yield another prize. He’s identified several of the Workshop engineers who worked on the pinlegs project. Only two live above ground, and Agent Kiraly’s tracked one to his estate outside Prusias’s capital. We hope to have him shortly.”
Max nodded his approval. Natasha Kiraly was also in the Red Branch, an exceedingly capable Agent whose stealth and swiftness were legendary. If the target was accessible, Max had no doubt she’d get him.
“One of my tunnels is near that location,” said David. “Agent Kiraly’s using spypaper to communicate with Ms. Richter each day. Once we confirm she has the target, we’ll give her the tunnel location and I’ll go retrieve them. With any luck, we’ll soon have a valuable prisoner.”
“But won’t the Workshop know he’s gone missing?” asked Max.
“We plan to install a replacement,” replied Varga. “To delay suspicion.”
“Brilliant!” exclaimed Toby. “Who’s the decoy?”
All eyes turned to the smee.
“B-but, I’m injured,” he protested. “My latissimus nub—”
“Will be fine,” interjected David. “You won’t have to do anything strenuous. You just have to pretend to be an elderly man who’s fighting a cold. The engineer’s a widower, semiretired with no children or regular visitors. With any luck, you can lounge in bed, putter about the grounds, and just keep up appearances. The malakhim were watching him, but apparently they’ve been reassigned now that the project is complete and the war has begun.”
“And if I do this, I presume the unseemly ban on my shape-shifting would be lifted?”
“You presume correctly.”
“Well, then. I’m your smee!”
“But what about the war?” asked Max. “What’s the latest news from Blys?”
Rubbing at her eyes, Miss Boon poured more coffee from a silver carafe. “Lots of news,” she sighed. “Almost all of it bad. The Director’s office is practically covered with spypaper and updates from contacts all over the kingdoms. Prusias is now running roughshod over Aamon and Rashaverak. His initial losses drew their armies well within his borders and he is now grinding them to dust. He’s already won major victories in Raikos, Acheral, Lebrím … all the major duchies. His ships have cut off Rashaverak’s retreat, and we hear Queen Lilith is already making secret overtures for a treaty. Wherever the pinlegs have gone, victory has followed.”
“So what does Ms. Richter intend to do?” asked Max quietly. “Solstice is a few days away. Prusias’s emissary will demand his answer.”
“I don’t know precisely,” said the teacher. “The Director’s exceedingly busy these days and it’s not easy to get a word. I won’t speak for her, but I highly doubt we’re studying pinlegs and kidnapping Workshop engineers because she intends to surrender.”
Max smiled and looked around the room, at his friends and the pinlegs crawling about the spinning sphere. More symbols, more flickers, and the quills copied down the outcomes. As daunting as the prospects seemed, it was a comfort to know that there were so many capable people scattered about the globe doing everything in their power to keep Rowan free.
“Is there anything I can do here?” he asked. “My handwriting’s awful, but I can jot down symbols if you like.”
“Very kind, but unnecessary,” replied Peter. “I’m confident the Director will have many things for you to do, but for now it’s best if you rest and recover.”
“I’ll head back up, then,” said Max. “Are you coming, Toby?”
“Staying. I need to study up on this Workshop chap—marinate in the character, so to speak. Tell that domovoi at the reference desk to bring me a ham sandwich and a pot of warmed honey. My tonsils are a wee bit tingly.”
Ignoring the smee’s demands, Max turned to Miss Boon. “Could I have a word with you outside?”
The teacher followed him out into the dim corridor. When she closed the door, Max cleared his throat, uncertain of just how to begin.
“I heard about Cooper,” he said. “The raid … the casualties. I heard he was involved and I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I know how much he means to you.”
Closing her eyes, Miss Boon simply stood quietly with fingers clasped. She looked almost like a chastened schoolgirl awaiting a reprimand. Tears ran down her cheeks while she struggled to control her emotions. Max feared he’d made a terrible mistake until she finally exhaled.
“Bless you,” she said, removing her glasses and wiping her eyes. “No one wants to talk about what happened—they just tiptoe around it or concoct euphemisms like ‘unfortunate outcomes’ and ‘compromised assets.’ Thank you for having the courage to speak plainly and acknowledge my feelings. It means the world to me, Max.”
She gave a sad smile and looked at him, no longer a teacher but simply a person in pain.
“Do you know what breaks my heart?” she said. “To most, William comes across as such a hard man—so grim and sinister. A professional killer. I called him that once when we were aboard the Erasmus. Do you remember?”
Max nodded.
“You’d never have known it then,” she continued. “But that little gibe wounded him. He knew that’s how people saw him—a scar-faced brute and nothing more. Rowan’s attack dog. For years, I think he even believed it—he withdrew into himself and became the role. But there is such nobility in that man,” she said, shaking her head. “There is such warmth and love. And what have the Atropos done? They’ve stripped it all away and turned him into the very monster he feared he was.…”
“What can I do?” asked Max, feeling helpless.
She blinked. Her mismatched irises returned to focus squarely on him. “Nothing,” she said sharply. “You are to do nothing, Max McDaniels. You are not to go looking for him. He is no doubt looking for you, and we’re expending many resources to ensure that William Cooper—or whatever he has become—stays far away from your person. Do you understand me?”