Chapter 27.1: No Going Back

Penny was unusually cautious as they made their way through the winding streets of the Western Commons. She insisted they stop at half the intersections they reached: anywhere she couldn’t quickly see down all the adjoining streets. When they did move, she was off like a shot into the darkness, the weight of her belongings seeming to have little effect on her. Minkus kept up, of course. The magic coursing through him was enough to match her pace, even with Wepp over his shoulder. It was the other weights that really threatened to slow him down. He knew how important his task was, why it needed to be done. Still, he looked back over his shoulder several times, as if to see the Shining Inn so many blocks and buildings behind them, which of course he couldn’t.

Neither he nor Penny knew if Gill’s assistant Patty had found a seraph watchman before they’d disappeared into the streets; maybe this mad dash was an entirely unnecessary precaution. To be certain even the innkeeper wouldn’t follow, though, Penny had advised Minkus to leave a ward across the inn’s threshold, a magical barrier to stop anyone from passing either in or out of the doorway as long as it lasted. He had. And as his bounding steps took him one cobble to the next away from the inn, his mind and heart kept slipping back to that moment, among so many others.

Like other physical defenses Minkus could channel, a ward both required and filled him with a fierce protectiveness that quickly manifested into the barrier. When he’d made it, Minkus reminded himself why they were running, not just from someone, but to someone else, potentially to save them. That had been enough to channel it. With seemingly no one following them now, it must have held, but he still couldn’t help feeling that it had been somehow weaker than it should have been.

They rounded another corner, Minkus following closely on Penny’s heels, moving quickly from shadow to shadow, careful to stay out of the rings of lamplight that dotted the roads. Though Penny seemed oblivious, Minkus couldn’t miss the sidelong glances they were getting from other people comfortably strolling the same roads. They really must have looked strange, darting furtively from one corner to the next. But Penny pressed on, driving them ahead, toward...

Minkus slowed nearly to a stop, suddenly realizing a critical detail he’d missed. “Penny,” he asked, “where are we going?”

She spun around, pressing her back into the corner of the next building, and shushed him vehemently. “Somewhere safe. Trust me.”

That didn’t make sense. They’d just lost the only safe place he knew of, and trusting her— well, that wasn’t as easy now, he realized. “Where is somewhere safe for us?” he asked with a grimace.

“Just keep following, would you?”

He held her gaze for a moment, deciding whether or not to press the issue.

“Alright,” he agreed.

She nodded, and again they were off through the city, heading northward, away from the core of the commons, still following a strange and winding course that Penny seemed to choose and re-choose at each step. He had only a general sense of the direction they were heading until she led them into a narrow gap between two storefronts.

They waited for a moment in the shadows, just long enough for Minkus to feel Wepp’s awkward weight more clearly again. Emerging out the other side, the burden still palpable on his shoulder, it became clear to him where they were: the ramp to the Melandru High Road. Penny scanned the square cautiously before bolting across and beginning the ascent.

It took longer than usual, but they eventually made it to the top of the ramp and stared up the long stretch of road that ran clear from the wall to the upper city. Penny pressed on, leading them past the first few buildings before ducking stealthily into a shadowed gap between two closed storefronts. For a moment, Minkus was able to catch his breath, while Penny surveyed the scene farther up the road.

He’d expected the climb to be strenuous with Wepp laid out over his shoulder, but not quite like this. His rejuvenating magic generally pulsed more strongly through him, or at least he thought it did. Perhaps he’d remembered it wrong?

Penny’s whisper broke his reverie. “OK, Biggie,” she said. “The coast looks clear. No asura and no seraphs. When I say, we make a break for it: all the way to the shop, no stopping and no talking until I get us inside, and then straight upstairs. Got it?”

“The shop? Your shop?” Minkus asked, taking his first full breath since they’d dived into the gap. “But— but doesn’t Wepp— or his people, I guess— don’t they own it?”

She gave him a sideways glance. “Hey, they’re not here, and what they don’t know can’t hurt them. Besides, we already stole him.” She threw a pointed glance at Wepp. “We’ll only be here for the night. No one who cares will ever know.”

Minkus shrugged. There was logic to it, he guessed. Really, he just needed somewhere he could stop running long enough to write. He had a lot to do tonight, and as long as they weren’t discovered, this was as good a place as any.

“OK,” Penny whispered suddenly. “And— go!” She took off at an angle across the road. Minkus followed on bounding steps, Wepp’s body bouncing atop his shoulder. He felt the weight with each step.

Penny reached the door ahead of him. She slid a hand through the still-broken pane of glass, and turned the knob on the other side. With a click, the door popped open.

“Good thing I broke this earlier,” she snickered.

As they walked silently through the door, the mechanical songbird sang overhead, a sound Minkus had heard earlier that day but still loved and missed as though he hadn’t heard it since before they’d left the city. For just a moment, it felt like winter again, like nothing at all had changed.

Penny hopped, grabbing the bird off the wall, and quickly plucked a steel cylinder from its clockwork chest. A spring snapped, and the song stopped, along with Minkus’ daydream.

Penny set the device and its pieces on a crate, closed the door behind them, and pressed farther into the dark room, stepping over and around obstacles with hardly a thought.

Minkus stopped, running a finger over the mechanical bird before passing on. He imagined the last few notes of the tune as he to stepped around the crates and parts scattered about the space.

In what felt now like a previous life, Penny had lived above the workshop, which appeared to be where they were headed: up the stairs just behind the counter. The woman knew her way by feel, managing to avoid all the creaks and groans of the old, wooden steps. Minkus hit every last one.

“Keep it down,” she rasped back at him out of the blackness. But he couldn’t help it.

At the top of the staircase, the yellow glow of streetlamps outside shined faintly through the windows, illuminating the very edges of everything in the room. Penny crossed the room, drew the curtains, and lit a pair of oil lamps on the wall instead.

Minkus laid Wepp on the bed, and the other asura began to stir, smacking his lips the way he did every time he started to wake. It was funny to Minkus how much he’d learned about their captive in just the day they’d had him around. Really, Wepp wasn’t so bad. Considering the situation, he was rather patient with them, much more so than Minkus could imagine Skixx being, or even Jinkke. He felt bad for Wepp. Perhaps if conditions had been different, he and Wepp might have been friends. But then, maybe not; most asura didn’t much appreciate his company. He knew it, but he couldn’t hold it against them.

Minkus slid back from the bed, putting his pack down and resting for a moment. Hands on his knees he scanned the room. Even in the lamplight, he could see the thin layer of dust on virtually everything. It reminded him just how long they’d been away. It hadn’t seemed that long, and really, half a season wasn’t that long, not in the grand scheme of things. But this place reflected the passage of that time and the absence of its one-time owner.

It was a surprisingly stark room, Minkus realized. A large bed flanked by a small table covered in empty bottles, a couple shelves piled with clothes nearly identical to what Penny wore now, a wash basin built into the corner of the room, and a desk piled high with various parts of trinkets never finished. That was it. Beyond her work, this was all the woman had, and with a start, it struck him. This was the very first time he’d seen it. In all their time together, this was the first time he’d ever been welcomed into what was effectively her actual home.

Peeking out the window, Penny broke the silence. “If we keep the lights low, no one will even know we’re here. At least not anyone who isn’t already looking for us.” She huffed, eyeing the room coldly. “When word of a kidnapping gets to the crows, though— well, If the innkeeper tells them anything about me, we can expect they’ll be here early tomorrow.”

Minkus watched as she unlaced that little, orange knapsack from the clips on her smartpack and laid it gently on the pillow beside Wepp. Her movement was slow, but not in a careful way. She just looked heavy.

“Yes, I understand,” Minkus said, setting down his own things on the floor at the foot of the bed. He didn’t know exactly why, but he felt the sudden urge to be gentle with her. “Tonight we need to copy the tome,” he said quietly, “so that tomorrow we can go to Rata Sum before the seraphs find us. That will get us away from here and get us to someone who can help, hopefully.”

She turned back slowly to face him, her brow pinched and her eyes tight. “Rata Sum? Why the hell would we go there, of all places?”

Minkus scratched his head. Hadn’t they discussed this? “Well,” he stammered, pointing to the tome on the edge of her desk, “to get that to someone who can— someone who might be able to use it.”

“What?” Penny snapped back, her arms spread wide. “No. I’m not doing any of that, Minkus. I’m done. With this whole gods-damned thing, I’m done. I’ll run to— I don’t know, Lion’s Arch, Ebonhawke— anywhere. But I’m not getting myself further into this mess, and if you’re smart, you won’t either. You’re better than this.”

Minkus blinked. Better than this? That made as little sense as anything anyone had ever said to him, and for once it wasn’t because he didn’t understand it. What was Penny talking about?

He watched her strip off her tool belt and drop it beside the smartpack already lying on the floor. Next came the gunbelt: holsters, pistols, and all. And with an air of finality, she dropped herself onto the wooden chair beside the desk, crossed her arms, and stared at the wall.

From the corner of his eye, Minkus saw Wepp stir. It seemed he was now fully conscious and watching the scene play out.

“Penny,” Minkus began again, taking a half step toward her. “If you want to—”

“Just stop,” she growled, refusing to meet his eyes. “You do what you want. I’ll do what I want. No more problems for either of us.”

Quieting, Minkus sighed and stepped forward to the tome and papers stacked on the desk beside Penny’s chair. Working at the desk was out of the question, since Penny sat firmly in the only chair in the room, so Minkus lifted the items from the desk and headed back toward the floor on the other side of the bed.

He stopped, overcome by the need to say something. Turning to his friend with everything still in his hands, words spilled out. “Penny,” he said, “this is wrong. This— all of it. What Skixx did was wrong. What you did was wrong. What Wepp did was wrong. What you and I did today— my ears, that’s wrong.” Minkus waved the tome at her. “But this is a chance to do something right, Penny. And I— we need to take it. I won’t leave our friends—my sister—behind when I might be able to do something for them.”

He took a deep breath, feeling like one of the weights had lifted from him, and he waited for a response. With the tome in hand, and his cheeks still hot, he waited.

Finally, she acknowledged him. “Fine. Have at it. Don’t keep talking about your big deeds; go do them. But when the shit starts flying, don’t say I didn’t warn you how these things go.” The woman glared at him, crossing her arms.

That didn’t sound right to Minkus. He cocked his head. “I thought you said we didn’t need to go because there wouldn’t actually be any trouble?”

“I— yeah— but, I just—” She turned her focus on the wall again. “Just forget it. Do what you want. I’m getting out of here in the morning.”

Minkus’ heart and face fell. For a moment, he fought to find something he could say, but the weight of the tome in his hands called him back from the cusp, to something more pressing. There were only so many hours until daylight returned, and even that might not be enough time to copy all he had to—assuming any of the content was usable at all. He didn’t even know if there was anyone in Rata Sum who could and would help him. Still, if it were a choice between having Penny’s camaraderie or Jinkke’s safety, there was only one choice, and he hoped Penny could forgive him.

He turned away from his friend and made his way to the opposite side of the bed, where he sat down cross-legged on the floor and rested the tome in his lap. He set the sheets aside, opened the tome to the first page regarding the mursaat constructs, and with one fresh sheet of paper atop the adjacent page, he drew a quill and pressed it to the page. Unsure what would be important, or even really what all the content meant, he assented to copy it all. Word for word, diagram for diagram, and with every glyph in the same place Zinn had put it, Minkus patiently, painstakingly set to his work.