Scion 1325 - Epilogue 2

Wepp stepped out of the College of Synergetics and back onto Rata Sum’s wide upper walkway. Morning light filtered down through passing clouds, and he muttered his thoughts aloud as he slid a steel cylinder under his arm and pulled his collar higher with freed hands. It wasn’t cold, per se. No, empirically it wasn’t cold at all, but with the change of the season, the weather had gone from wonderfully steamy to an almost Krytan coolness nearly overnight. It was the suddenness, not the temperature itself that had caught Wepp off guard, and of course Rata Sum’s altitude didn’t particularly help. It felt like being back on assignment in Divinity’s Reach, which was a memory Wepp still hadn’t come to terms with—who had time for that?

As he scanned the growing crowds of traffic for the glow of an asura gate, he took the steel canister carefully back in hand and pressed on toward his next goal. It wasn’t especially heavy, being little more than a thin layer of metal filled with ash, but at a foot long and six inches across, it did prove a little cumbersome at times. It was an encumbrance he was willing to carry, though.

That cylinder was the reason Wepp had come to the College of Synergetics, trying to find Jinkke. It had only been a season since their wildly unexpected but successful adventure; all logic said she would have returned to her studies the moment it was possible. He hadn’t known her long, but that much of her priorities had seemed clear.

He’d been wrong, though.

According to the college administrator Wepp had just spoken to, Jinkke had discontinued her studies shortly after her return from Brisban, leaving the school for some business venture outside the city, presumably down in Soren Draa. Not only was that information surprising, as it seemed inconsistent with her character, but it was annoyingly ironic. Solely to find her, Wepp had come out of his way to Rata Sum from that very settlement, at risk of being discovered by the rest of his Thaumacore acquisition team, who assumed he was seeking trade opportunities just like they were. Now, at the administrator’s insistence, Wepp was returning by the very same asura gate he’d just traveled through, to the town all his associates assumed he was still in, to continue searching for someone who was decidedly not a trade prospect. He could feel the anxious sweat beading on his forehead. Combined with the cool air of fall, it made him shiver.

Though Jinkke’s choices were making Wepp’s movement harder at present, he had to admit that he understood it to a sizable degree: grief had a way of derailing even the most logical and determined person’s plans. That was so much of the reason he’d connived his way into permanent service at Thaumacore rather than returning to Divinity’s Reach. It hadn’t been his plan at any moment leading up to his infiltration of the site with Minkus, but as the situation in the Thaumacore courtyard had developed, Wepp had recognized a unique opportunity to fill a research-and-development role equal to his talents while also finding Skixx’s killer—though Kikka had made the order, Wepp knew someone rose had born the knife that did the deed. Both were valid ways to honor his fallen friend. Wepp could only imagine some equally obtuse but emotionally satisfying venture had presented itself to Jinkke, resulting in her seemingly uncharacteristic behavior.

He pressed on through the masses of morning travelers, keeping his trajectory set on the gate with little thought to much else around him. At least here no one would recognize him. Down on the ground in Soren Draa, though? Well, that would be a different story.

Operative Comakk had sent six representatives from the different sub-krewes at Thaumacore. They’d made a long circuit through asuran settlements in Brisban and Metrica, in search of vendors with whom they could trade superfluous equipment for more necessary goods that Inquest command was no longer providing to the facility: food, personnel supplies, and various components not intended for the overthrow of Inquest command. Of primary interest was getting rid of remaining golemite parts, that particularly damning evidence of Kikka’s misuse of resources. Wepp had been sent as a representative of the newly rebuilt power-transformation team and tasked with acquiring several pieces of gear needed to get the project back on track. That was how much trust he’d earned with the krewe, and if he planned to either find Skixx’s killer or continue contributing to what was genuinely an interesting project, he had to maintain that trust.

Rubbing a hand over his pate, he worked to concoct a believable story of exactly what he’d been doing in the asuran capitol.

——————————————————————————————————

After waiting his turn in line and stepping once more through that transdimensional portal to the surface, Wepp found himself right back in Soren Draa, where he’d stood in the opposite line not thirty minutes before. On instinct he scanned the sprawling town square for any sign of his Inquest companions. Sweat collected on his brow again, and he began to feel woozy. Even though he had established a plausible cover story—how he had a cousin in Rata Sum who operated a freighting krewe that might have access to what they needed—the thought of being found out still rattled him. Spinning as many tales as he had in Thaumacore seemed to have snapped his supply of deceptive creativity.

 Wepp moved quickly into the center of the sprawling town, so far confident that none of his krewemates had been within eyeshot of his arrival. Now he just had to keep it that way as he sought Jinkke’s current location. It was entirely possible that one of his Inquest associates might remember Jinkke from the unforgettable events in the Thaumacore courtyard, so he had to keep the two parties apart: a challenge made more difficult if she was in fact in Soren Draa.

While the Synergetics administrator had been able to offer very limited information beyond Jinkke’s enrollment status, she had said that a rumor had circulated, claiming that the female had left her educational pursuits to start a krewe of her own in Soren Draa. If that were true, Wepp made the educated guess that additional information might be floating around the settlement itself, so he began with the first market vendor he saw.

The middle-aged male was somewhere in the vicinity of Wepp’s own age, but his tidy, well-cut, and brightly dyed garb separated them. It was unusual to see a produce vendor looking so well-off. That, however, was neither here nor there; Wepp merely needed information, so he asked about the rumor of the student turned krewe chief. When he received no useful intelligence, he moved on.

From one seller the next, he went, and much later than he should have, Wepp realized he could actually light two coils with one generator if he asked both about Jinkke and possible trade opportunities. Moving from stall to stall, and then from shop to shop, he navigated the main square of the settlement, asking each new seller, inventor, and krewe the same questions: were they aware of any new krewes that might be Jinkke’s, and had they any need for golemite components, among other things. He was at once accomplishing his official mission and his personal one, and he was more than a little proud of that.

Finally, after what felt like the dozenth vendor he’d spoken to, Wepp found the directions he was after, and a potential parts buyer.

“Across the square,” a particularly manic refurbisher insisted, pointing a finger to the opposite side of the broad, paved town center. “Theirs is the final door in the row, though it is unlikely they have much interest in your merchandise. I, on the contrary— well, I might just find something of use in your inventory. Where is it?”

While Wepp did hear her potential offer for trade, his mind clutched onto the odd commentary on the new krewe across the square. He had no interest in selling Jinkke anything, of course, but something about her presumed disinterest drew his curiosity.

He cocked his head. “Um, yes, we can bring our inventory to you, but may I ask: why do you conclude that the other krewe would be disinclined to trade for our goods?”

The other quickly raised her hands, backpedaling from any unintended insult. “Oh, no. My ears, I mean nothing about the quality I anticipate from your components. If anything I assume your components are too advanced for that muddle-headed krewe.” She leaned in, lowering her voice. “That krewe employs a human.”

The other asura grimaced at her own words, as if they tasted badly in her mouth. “Alchemy, a human of all ridiculous things. I’ve never seen the weapons they manufacture, but for Alchemy’s sake, how qualitative could any product be in the hands of a bookah?”

Wepp couldn’t fault her for such a prejudice, but he did raise an eyebrow. “A human?” he muttered. There was a new krewe in town, fabricating weapons, and they’d enlisted the help of a human? For a moment he was tempted to pass on the lead. It seemed just too easy.

Coming back to himself, though, he bowed slightly. Surprise was no reason to be impolite. “My thanks. That is quite helpful information.” It was then her turn to look confused.

The two arranged a later meeting time, and Wepp made note of it to take back to his companions. He left her shop and made a beeline for the building at the opposite end of the settlement’s square, the one the female had pointed to. Scanning the wide space for any of his Inquest associates, Wepp hugged the steel canister to his chest. It seemed too convenient that he’d find his way to Jinkke merely by the presence of a human, but the odds of it occurring were technically non-zero. Regardless, he’d waited and prepared far too long to pass up on any chance to find her now.

Wepp was still thirty-six paces from their doorway when a figure stepped into his periphery. A foot and a half taller than everyone else passing by, she strode with purpose, easily half a step faster than any of the asura she wove around. Yes, it was a she, a human she, who hugged a small crate that seemed to pull her along with its weight. The woman made for the same door he did, her thick denim overalls and a grease-stained, sleeveless top speaking to a mechanical profession. She’d pulled back her black hair in a single, high ponytail—longer than he remembered, but time would account for that. It had been over a season, but he didn’t think he’d ever forget that self-satisfied smirk.

Penny Arkayd passed the open, stonework threshold ahead of him, and Wepp, casting ever more furtive glances over his shoulder, quickened his pace. There was little question now; if he’d found Penny Arkayd working in Soren Draa, he’d found Jinkke, and either of them might well be recognized by his associates.

Still not noticing him behind her, Penny set her cargo on a long work table several yards inside the door and called to someone through a doorway beyond. There was a clang of steel and clatter of hardware hitting the floor behind the wall and a subsequent skittering of small feet.

“Good gods,” Penny groaned. She raised her voice to call at the other person again. “That sounded a hell of a lot like a golem chest casing hitting the ground. I told you to stop messing with that thing.”

Light footfalls approached the doorway, and a progeny appeared. Maybe ten years old, he had pale hair parted and oiled so cleanly as to put him out of place in what was clearly a workshop. Complaint was on both his face and tongue as he flopped his arms in protest, “Rifles are so repetitively tedious, Penny. If we automated a golem to perform the routine processes, we could—”

“We could do away with our intern,” Penny finished, mocking consideration. She raised a finger to her chin. “Yeah, that could actually work.”

The progeny’s face soured, but before he could either rebut or acquiesce, he caught sight of Wepp standing in the entrance. “Customer,” he said, pointing.

Penny sighed, sliding the crate across the table to the young intern. “Sort these and get back to work boring out those barrels, OK? I’ll be back there in a minute.”

Reluctantly, the progeny nodded and obeyed, and Penny settled back on the counter as she turned to Wepp. “Good morning. How can we…” Her words fled when she saw him. “Baldy? How in Torment—”

“Perhaps we can at last retire that particular appellation?” he asked. He’d politely tolerated her nicknames long enough. “By now you know my name.”

“I have called you worse,” she said, flashing that smirk. “But yeah, that’s fair.”

If he didn’t know any better, Wepp might have thought he saw embarrassment in her cheeks, but he had no time to consider it. She was up and moving toward him, questions rushing out of her. “What are you doing here? Where have you— gods, you stayed at that Inquest place! Why the hell did you stay?” Without giving room for a response, she called back over her shoulder. “Glabb, go get Jinkke.”

“That’s krewe-chief Jinkke,” came a snap retort from the other side of the wall.

Penny put a hand to her temple. “Only to you. Now just go get her.” She listened for receding footfalls before returning her attention to Wepp. “Kid’s got a chip on his shoulder the size of Mount Maelstrom.” Despite her presented exasperation, something in the woman looked brighter for having said it.

Wepp knew he had to deliver his package and go, but this lab and its most curious krewe stirred just so many questions, starting with who actually ran it. “This is Jinkke’s facility?” Wepp asked. “And she produces rifles, of peculiarly Vigil coloration?” His eyes wandered from Penny to a few firearms laid out across the far side of the work table. The walls were covered in shelves bearing a wide array of hardware jars and firearm components, right alongside pegboards of tools, both human and asuran. There were some tomes, and a few, curious knick knacks, including an inactive ultramagnet and some kind of wooden toys, like those he’d seen in the hands of human children in Divinity’s Reach. For a weapon shop, there weren’t many finished weapons on display.

“It’s our facility,” Penny corrected. “And yeah, we do guns. Mostly guns, anyway. I assume you heard the news about Claw Island?”

Wepp nodded. News of the attack had reached the krewe in Thaumacore before he’d left, but even if it hadn’t, Wepp had overheard the story in half the settlements they’d reached for trade since. Wepp would wager that everyone everywhere had heard about Claw Island by now.

“Reports say dragon minions reached the outer defenses of Lion’s Arch itself,” he said. “News of that magnitude spreads rapidly.”

“Sure does.” Penny pursed her lips. One hand dropped to her side and began fidgeting with a tool in her work belt. “The world’s gone to Torment, the Vigil’s crazy enough to try and fix it, and they’re willing to pay us an arm and a leg for the guns to do so.”

Wepp was unable to keep his brow from furrowing as he flashed a glance to the row of guns and back again. “The Vigil contracted you to manufacture weapons? If I’m not mistaken, I had gotten the sense that your relationship with that organization was tenuous. At best.”

Leaning back, Penny sat herself on the low asuran table and shrugged admissively. “Yeah, but gold is gold, and I guess Sergeant Vent didn’t convince them to cancel my contract. It took some work to get the first batch done, but now we’re on the second. They’re desperate, and they pay the bills.” She looked askance, considering something, and then shrugged, this time more to herself. “And, fact of the matter is, they’re doing something good for us all. The least we can do is help.”

This time it was Wepp who paused, drawn into thought. This was the same woman he’d traveled with, the woman who’d kidnapped him?

“Smalls’ll be out in just a minute,” Penny said. “Or at least I hope so—you never know with that kid.” She threw a thumb over her shoulder to where the progeny had stood. “But, gods, what are you doing here? And when we left Thaumacore, what happened to you? Why the hell did you stay?”

“I should not stay here long,” he replied, something in the word stay reminding him of his urgency. “I’ll explain my purpose when she joins us, but as for what happened to me, I—” He scratched his head, realizing suddenly that he hadn’t verbalized even once what had actually transpired since he’d parted ways with Minkus, Jinkke, Penny, and the two Vigil soldiers. In fact, whenever anyone inquired about his past, he’d done everything in his power to subvert and obfuscate that story and all those before it. It had been critical that no one knew how he’d really come to Thaumacore or how he’d deceived his way into the heart of its primary research efforts. The site had lost so many krewe members in their conflict with the humans and had been so divided until that point that just a few precise mistruths about his previous work had paved the way for him to demonstrate his value to the work of harnessing chaos magic as a power source. He was on the best project and had access to things that would make finding and repaying Skixx’s killer possible.

Before he could find words for his suppressed story, which he really did suddenly want to share, Jinkke strode in from whatever work room was hidden behind the wall. She navigated the space without even looking up from the paperwork in her hands. “Glabb said you required my assistance,” she said, unspokenly addressing Penny, who watched her in amusement.

Penny shifted her weight, crossing her arms. “That’s not exactly what I said.”

“Well, what do you—” Her eyes finally rose from the parchment, nearly popping out of her head when they met Wepp’s. “Alchemy. It’s you.”

They weren’t friends, not really. But there had been something about a shared project and a shared near-death experience that had bound them together, and her surprise pleased him. Really, that bond was the reason Wepp was there; he didn’t have many such bonds these days.

“That’s right.” Penny raised an eyebrow, looking at Wepp but speaking to Jinkke. “And he was just about to tell me where he’s been and what he’s doing here.”

Wepp cast another anxious glance over his shoulder. He could feel his window of opportunity closing around him. Looking back at the two females, though, he didn’t feel he had much of a choice. With a sigh, he obliged, telling them as succinctly as he could what had happened since the day they left Thaumacore. He told them how he’d gone with the medic and joined the injured on the day of the conflict and slipped seamlessly into the ranks of krewe members cleaning up in the wake of the disaster. He shared the tales he’d told of being recently reassigned to data analysis, inventory, or R&D, depending on the audience of the day, and how, with so many losses and so much restructuring, his real origin was never truly questioned or investigated. He told them about the rising new chief, Comakk, and how he’d recognized Wepp’s aptitude, making a place for him among the top energy specialists onsite. And finally he conveyed why he was now traveling Maguuma and had wound up at their door—at least he conveyed most of that reason. Finishing his tale, he gripped the canister in his hands all the more tightly.

Penny whistled at the conclusion of the story. “I never took you for a con man, but that’s an impressive play.” Her amused eyes rested on him for a moment before something struck her, twisting her face in anger. “But gods, I can’t believe you chose to work for that little, asura bitch. You wanted her dead as much as anyone.”

Wepp narrowed his eyes at the woman, inspecting her. Surely there was sarcasm in the statement.

Finding no sign of it, though, he furrowed his brow further. “I fear I don’t comprehend your intended meaning,” he said, genuinely perplexed. “Which her are you talking about?”

Penny and Jinkke exchanged an equally confused glance.

“She means Kikka, the site director,” Jinkke answered. “Who else would she mean? She remained in charge of the station, didn’t she?”

Wepp blinked, the gesture feeling stupid even to him. “You expunged Kikka,” he said, not knowing how else to put it. “Her corpse was found in the testing chamber after your conflict with her.”

Leaping to her feet, Penny flailed her arms in wild objection. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she burst, “I did not kill her. I made damn sure of that! She wasn’t happy when we left, but she was alive, very alive.”

Wepp took a step back at the outburst, surprised and confused by the woman’s adamance over not succeeding at her verbalized intent.

Jinkke took half a step forward, extending an arm between the two of them. “She’s correct,” she said. Whatever emotion rose up in her, Jinkke held it at bay better than Penny did. “Kikka deserved far worse, but Penny only incapacitated her, for Minkus.”

“For Minkus?” Wepp mused, clutching at the steel cylinder in his hand. He glanced curiously at each of them. Their faces seemed earnest—if indignant, in Penny’s case—and Wepp had to agree that if Minkus had had any choice in the matter, he would likely avoid killing anyone, given the option. Still, Kikka was most certainly expired. “The extensive energy burns to her head indicated otherwise.”

Jinkke’s eyes widened in shock, and Penny crossed her arms, stiff with vindication. “Ah-ha, energy burns. From one of your asuran guns. I never touched one of those. If she was killed, someone else did it. You yourself said she had enemies, and for damn good reason.”

“Indeed,” Wepp said, continuing to play at his chin with a finger. She was certainly right about Kikka’s list of enemies, or at least all indications pointed that way. He had been among them, as had the majority of Inquest command. And if Jinkke and Penny were speaking the truth, there had likely been at least one other enemy, probably among her own ranks.

He should have been getting on with his delivery and returning to his real task before he was caught with a pair of Thaumacore’s attackers, but now Wepp’s mind was running on a new problem. “Perhaps it was one of the Vigil members?” he proposed.

Penny leaned down toward him, expression both curious and challenging. “Did you come all this way to accuse us of murder? I mean maybe it was you who—”

Jinkke threw Penny a corrective glare, but the woman’s face said it had zero effect. Jinkke simply spoke over her. “None of the soldiers could have expunged her either. Crusader Yult evacuated the room alongside us, Sergeant Ventyr and Jindel fled to the courtyard long before we overcame Kikka, and none of them ever returned. If someone killed her, it was unquestionably a member of one of the other two factions present: either a human or one of her own krewe members. There’s a persuasive case to be made for either.”

Of course those were the options. Wepp had come to the very same conclusion in the seconds it had taken the female to posit her assertion.

Frankly the conclusion should have had little effect on Wepp. Kikka had met her justice, and that was all that really mattered, wasn’t it?

Well, maybe not. Kikka’s death being at the hands of a krewe member meant that someone else at the facility was ready and willing to kill, even the krewe chief. From his experience of his new krewemates, that kind of aggressive maneuvering wasn’t entirely common. It was likely to be the same sort of trait Kikka would have looked for when assigning someone to Skixx’s murder. Wepp already knew from the peacemaker investigation that the killer was male. Combining that with this new information could well narrow Wepp’s search substantially. He felt his eyes widen as faces passed through his mind. Who would have the most to gain from killing Kikka? Well, the new krewe chief, of course.

Wepp suddenly felt woozy, fighting to push that conclusion aside. It— no, it couldn’t be Comakk. That was absurd. Working under the very person he was in pursuit of? That couldn’t possibly happen to him, not after all else.

Penny cleared her throat, and it brought Wepp back out of his thoughts.

“So, if you didn’t come to accuse us of an expunging,” she asked, pantomiming quotes around the word, “why are you here? Just came for a drink with old friends and kidnappers?”

It was a joke, he knew, but the reminder put a sour taste in his mouth, and he let his expression say as much. 

“No,” Wepp said. Shaking the offense away, he looked down at the cylinder in his hands and up at Jinkke, extending it to her.

Clearly unsure what it was, she stepped forward. “What is this?”

As he placed it carefully in her open palm, he explained. “As I expressed, the Thaumacore krewe spent seventeen days collecting, cleaning, cremating, containing, and honoring the dead.” Her eyes widened, but Wepp continued, ensuring his actions were crystal clear. “I made it my task to find and prepare your brother as one of them.”

Eyes already watering, Jinkke held his gaze a moment before looking down at the object cupped gently in her hands. Barely a breath left her lips.

Despite himself, Wepp watched her intently. So intently in fact, that he missed Penny’s movement until she was right behind Jinkke, hovering over the two of them. The only sounds Wepp could hear were the intern at work in the back and the pounding rhythm of his own pulse in his ears. This felt like more of an achievement than made any sense.

“Do you mean…” the human started, stumbling over her own words. “That’s— gods, that’s him?”

Wepp nodded. He took a respectful step back, drawing his hands together behind his back and letting Jinkke decide the proper place for Penny to hold in relation to the sentimentally precious cylinder. Jinkke drew it close to her chest and Penny huddled alongside her. Together they seemed to shelter what remained of their brother and friend from the wider world. There was a unity between them around the object, and Wepp respected their moment.

They stood like that for moments long enough that Wepp grew wary of discovery again.

“How?” Jinkke finally uttered. “How did you accomplish this? Of course they honored their own deceased this way, but their enemies? Never.”

Wepp nodded. She was absolutely right.

“Thankfully,” he explained, “your sibling still wore his Inquest guise beneath his armor when I discovered him. I stripped him down to that uniform, and that alone made it possible for me to pass him through the funerary process with the krewe’s deceased. There were so many casualties and so few crematory volunteers that not one of them knew all the bodies and names. I was not able to pronounce his honors, for obvious reasons, but I could smuggle away his remains. I simply had to wait for viable cause to leave the complex and find you, which was by far the most time-consuming step in the process.”

He took a deep breath, finding himself increasingly emotional as they set their full attention on him. It made him uncomfortable to have their undivided attention.

“Why?” Penny asked. It was a straightforward, sincere, and loaded question, but Wepp had an equally sincere answer.

He scratched at his bald pate. “Simply stated: he deserved it.” Though he answered Penny, Wepp met Jinkke’s eyes. “Atypical or not, he displayed a character deserving of elevated respect. I was unable to give proper honors to Skixx, and I did not want you to experience similar.”

Jinkke couldn’t take her eyes off the canister in her hands any more than she could stop the tears from running down her cheek now. Silence hung between the three until she finally did return her gaze to his. “Thank you,” she almost rasped. “From the bottom of my essence, thank you.”

Still clutching her brother in one hand, Jinkke approached him. Autonomously he shied away, but she caught him just the same, wrapping arms around him in a grateful embrace. Her face went to his shoulder, and he felt gentle, silent sobs. Between anyone but the nearest kin, it was an incredibly un-asura gesture, but he didn’t find it unwelcome.

She hung on for several moments, and Wepp let his eyes rise to the human behind her. Penny was now approaching as well, though she held herself to resting a hand on his shoulder. Wepp spotted the saline in her eyes as well. “You’re alright.”

As quickly as the moment had come upon him, it ended, with each female backing up a few steps to more socially acceptable distances. Jinkke briefly raised the cylinder to eye level and grinned her gratitude to Wepp once more. He understood the meaning.

Penny sniffed back her emotion and wiped an eye before her face returned to its usually sardonic confidence. “Just so we’re clear,” she said, “we’re not interested in buying parts. I like you, but I’m not bankrolling the Inquest’s freaky experiments.”

“I’ve already expressed to you,” Wepp replied, feeling indignation as he pulled his arms tight across his chest, “that is not what Thaumacore’s prime objective ever was. In her profound arrogance, Kikka went rogue, which led to all the admittedly troubling projects and practices we witnessed. The krewe has finally returned to the energy problem it was initially tasked with solving. Under Operative Comakk—” Despite himself, Wepp stumbled over the name. There were disquieting questions firmly in his head now.

He cleared his throat. “Under Operative Comakk, we are fully focused on harnessing chaos magic as a new and potent form of energy. It’s my hope that our discoveries can be used to benefit everyone, all the way up to Rata Sum.”

He watched as Jinkke’s expression morphed into the same sort of incredulity painted across Penny’s face. He dismissed them, though. They were welcome to suspect whatever they wished of the Inquest, but he knew the truth of the organization’s greater purpose: free advancement. Yes, despite the actions of particular individuals, including one he still had to uncover, Wepp knew the Inquest as a whole could be trusted. He knew it.

“Hey, I need some food before I dive into the next batch of holo-sights,” Penny interjected, quickly uncomfortable with the silence. “You two want to go across the square for some kebabs from the moa guy?”

The mention of the Soren Draa square was enough to remind Wepp where he was, what he was doing, and what he was supposed to be doing. “My ears! No— thank you. I must depart.” Nervously he danced toward the door. “I am well past the time I should have been back about my work. One of my associates will find me before long and ask questions!”

“OK,” Penny said, drawing out the syllables dubiously. She and Jinkke exchanged another uncertain glance. “But you know it’s an easy lie to say you were here, in a machine shop, trying to trade? Right? That’s a ridiculously easy cover.”

Wepp was sweating now, still backing toward the outside world. Suddenly he saw recognition in Jinkke’s eyes. She sighed. “You can’t be certain the others will not recognize us from the incident in Thaumacore.”

He nodded.

“Smoke and sparks,” she hissed. “Yes, remove yourself from this situation before you’re found.” She raised her brother’s remains in his direction. “Again, Wepp, thank you for this. It would be an impossible task to thank you enough.”

He awkwardly fought back a smile. Working at Thaumacore had reminded him how it felt to be recognized for your achievements, but this appreciation felt different even from that. Maybe it was even better—not in any empirical sense, of course, but in one of those intangible ways that sometimes seemed weightier.

“Indeed,” he said.

Turning, he slipped out the door and back into the square. As he took rapid steps away, he could just hear the two still talking inside.

“Penny, can you manage here while I message my parents? They need to know we can perform his rites correctly,” Jinkke said.

“Can I run my own shop and fulfill my own contracts?” the human replied wryly. “For your brother, anything.”

Wepp rushed off to another storefront, still ruminating on the gratitude of the pair, on Minkus, and on Skixx. He’d likely never see any of their faces again, and for some of them, that was alright. It was sadder than he’d anticipated, but it was alright. For Skixx, however, it was not. He had work to do on that front, and his latest lead terrified him.