Page 9

9

The noise of banging and hammering filled the afternoon, the Black Market’s sun beating hot over the Halls of Making. I breathed in the sweet, balmy air, lulled into a state of calm by these familiar, comforting sounds. This was like a spa to me, the music of artifice and industry. It reminded me of hard work, of family, and home.

Okay. So maybe Hecate wasn’t trying to kill me and Xander, after all. It was still a strange way of expressing her concern to us. Why did she always have to take the weird way out? Then again, what was I expecting from a goddess? And from Hecate, most of all, the creepiest entity we knew despite her being the closest.

It didn’t matter in the end, I knew, because she’d be sure to tell us what was on her mind herself, in her own cryptic, meandering way. Like it or not, Xander and I had permanently attracted the attention and affection of our own fucked-up fairy godmother. Gods forbid if we ever had a baby and forgot to invite Hecate to their first birthday.

I breathed in, expanding my chest, filling my lungs to the brim, and breathed out again, long and slow. Again, this was a time for me to set my mind on more calming and distracting matters. No more of this freaky godmother bullshit for now.

Xander was back home at his own version of a day spa, luxuriating in the shower and no doubt scrubbing himself and steeping his skin in all kinds of expensive potions and lotions. And here I was at the guild, surrounded by tools of all sorts, and I wasn’t just talking about my friends, either.

Only joking, of course. Maybe it was sheer coincidence, but basically all of our friends were at the guild at that very moment.

Preston and Giuseppe were hard at work on the arcane engine, with the occasional bit of friendly feedback from Master Vikhyat. Something that nobody seemed to mind, considering Vikhyat could offer both a strong arm as well as his wealth of knowledge on metals and minerals.

At the end of the day, artificing was really just the art of slotting raw materials in next to each other and hoping for the best. The Gauntlet, for example, was created from the artful fusion of leather, crystals, as well as wiring and mesh made from precious metals, all engineered by an extremely handsome artificer whose name I always forget.

In short, despite specializing in a completely different discipline, Vikhyat’s advice on the arcane applications of metals was always welcome and very much invaluable. And if three brains were willing to work together to bring out the best in the arcane engine — four if you counted yours truly — then who was I to complain?

Count the brawn in there as well, between Preston, Vikhyat, and myself. Hell, Giuseppe wasn’t a slouch in the muscle department, either. Decades of working with tools and heavy machinery had given him a vise-like grip and the kind of weightlifting power you wouldn’t expect in a man of his build.

And a man of his age, either, considering how his life had mostly consisted of eating tons of Mother Dough carbs and watching the world turn from the comfort of his couch. There was magic in those muscles, I was sure of it.

“You know what’s funny about these schematics?” Giuseppe asked, tightening a nut. “It’s that they look awfully familiar. I don’t know what it is. Maybe because I’ve worked with your mom and dad’s stuff so much in the past.”

I nodded, rapping my knuckles on the engine. “That’s probably it. An illustration is just made up of different shapes, right? There’s only so many ways to draw a rectangle or a circle. Mom and Dad were brilliant, but they didn’t reinvent the wheel. Maybe you just recognized another project of theirs in there somewhere.”

“You’re probably right.” A smile broke across Giuseppe’s lips, his eyes lighting up even as his gaze went distant. “We made dozens of things, you know? Back in the day. And lots of them didn’t even end up working properly. But when something ran the way it should have, the way we expected? It was like making miracles happen, Jack. These aren’t just the Halls of Making. These are the Halls of Making Magic.”

I couldn’t help grinning at Giuseppe. As if I needed to be told why the art of artifice was so incredible, despite all the pain and effort of building things, despite the danger. It was meant to create fantastical effects by bringing unlikely materials together, but here the art of artifice had brought so many strangers together, too.

Not so long ago it would have been bizarre to see Master Lobelia and Master Kaoru chatting and laughing to each other like equals, heads of their respective guilds with long histories of tension and conflict. Niko and Sedgewick were our earliest examples of guild harmony, exactly as Kaoru had pointed out.

And I’d always known she was destined for great things, but I still hadn’t fully processed how our very own Beatrice Rex had risen to a position of guild leadership herself. Sure, right now she was only the Seventh Veil, but given enough time I knew she would sail right past all the other veils and rise to become the Master of the House of Needles herself.

Those youngest three had somehow gravitated toward us — Niko, Sedgewick, and Beatrice — right as I’d picked up some tools to join Giuseppe and the others in some good old manual labor. I knew it wasn’t to help out with some elbow grease, either.

Maybe they were hoping to hear some gossip from Giuseppe about the old guilds. Niko had certainly found himself on the old man’s good side, trading his fair share of modern Black Market gossip to pick up snippets of just how much the guilds truly hated each other back in the olden days.

“And I’m sure I don’t need to tell you young ’uns because that sort of nonsense isn’t from too long ago.We even had some of the same masters at the same guilds today. Time was that I couldn’t imagine old Vikhyat here debasing himself by mixing with us artificer lunatics, and sweet Lobelia over there wasn’t nearly as sweet back in the times of the old guild. Begging your pardon, ma’am.”

Our heads all whipped toward the masters in question. Vikhyat blushed bright red through his beard, and Lobelia, despite being half a plant person, still apparently had enough human physiology to flush red herself. They both cleared their throats, both stammered, but Vikhyat spoke first, quivering mustachios and all.

“Well, you see, there were a lot of old prejudices back in those days. A lot of secrecy and distrust. If it wasn’t for young Master Jackson here, we might never have solved the mystery of all those missing diggers from Hammerhearth. Few would listen when I said my people needed justice.”

Vikhyat was talking about Dietrich Sturm from the guild of jewelers, how he’d tried to cover up all those deaths. I lowered my head and scratched the back of my neck, trying to hide my own blush. “I mean, I wasn’t the only who helped. It was this whole thing. Everyone worked together.”

“Which reminds me of the Chrysanthemyst.” Lobelia squeezed my arm with a smile. “Without you and Xander, we never would have exterminated that particular weed. Speaking of which, where is Xander?”

“At home, taking a shower. I can tell him to head down here after, though. I have no idea what’s going on but it’s like everybody decided to hang out at the guild today. It’s kind of nice.”

Beatrice waved her hand. “I already texted him. Sent him some photos, too. Something like, ‘Hey loser, look what you’re missing out on.’ He’ll get it. He won’t be mad, he loves me.”

Giuseppe clapped his hands once, quick and sharp. “The more, the merrier, I say. It was all about the noise, wasn’t it, boys? The turning of gears, the humming of machines, the banging of wrenches and hammers. All day, all night long. It would drive anyone else mad, but to an artificer, gods above and below, that was music to our ears. Music!”

Preston grinned, his eyes flitting between me and Giuseppe. I beamed back. It really just was like old times, if only at a smaller scale. Brick by brick, or flower by flower, as it were, we’d built this place back up again. Soon more people would file in, too, and the Halls of Making would rattle and clank and clash just like the good old days.

“I think I might almost be at my limit,” Lobelia said, chuckling. “Perhaps my kind are not accustomed to so much noise. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’ll be sure to return once you’re — ”

“Finished!”

I blinked at Giuseppe, stunned by his announcement. I looked down at my hands, somehow having forgotten that the nut I was tightening had already tightened as far as it would go. Impossible. Did we really just fly through all that? It was almost effortless, like playing a game.

The arcane engine clanked with every proud slap of Giuseppe’s hand. “Can you believe it, boys? The first real artificing project completed at the Halls of Making in a good, long while. A collaboration for the ages, too, I’d wager. The past and the present coming together.” He sniffled, running one grubby finger against his eye. “Your folks would be so proud, Jackson.”

A shiver ran down my spine. That was actually what had happened. We’d collaborated with Luciana and Octavian from beyond the grave. Chilling, in a sense, but I preferred to think of it as a way to honor my predecessors, what few ancestors I actually knew of.

I bit back sentimental tears as I scanned the grounds of the Halls of Making. My eyes narrowed as I imagined the many faces of the artificers who had fallen in the blast alongside my parents. This was a tribute to all of them. We’d rebuilt the guild to be taller, stronger, and most important of all, safer.

Lobelia ran her fingers along the ornate curves of our strange machine, nails clacking against gemstone as she inspected the interface, a crystalline control panel in the shape of a book.

“I’m sure you gentlemen have attempted to describe this device’s purpose to me many, many times in the past, and for that, I must apologize. Consider me still confused. What does it do, exactly?”

The light exploded from deep within my body, exiting as sparkles in my eyes. This was every artificing nerd’s dream come true: a captive audience, someone actually interested in hearing all the details.

But I knew well enough the importance of editing myself down before I bored anyone to death. Keep to the specifics, as it were, only the most significant details of the project. These days I stuck to the rule of restricting it all to what I could say in a single breath.

“Just to keep it brief — which, with all due respect, Master Lobelia, is almost impossible for me — the arcane engine is designed to absorb and amplify a mage’s arcane essence. Theoretically it should enable the making of magic even greater than what an individual is normally capable of. Bigger spells than usual, but with less effort expended.”

Okay, so that was several breaths, but still good enough. Lobelia hadn’t died from boredom. I hadn’t actually expected her eyes to light up as brightly as mine in return. Something had just clicked for her.

“If there are no objections, could I possibly give it a go? If that’s not a bother, I mean. I’ve seen what you artificers can do with your work and it’s absolutely fascinating.”

How had I forgotten so quickly? She was one of the first mages to actually test the glass eggs that Niko and I had designed together. I hadn’t even opened my mouth to happily give her permission yet and Kaoru and Beatrice had already fallen in line behind her. Wow. Everybody wanted a turn with our new toy.

“Please,” I said, sliding away from the machine with a bow and a flourish. “Don’t let me stop you. Be my guest.”

She rubbed her hands together in delight, barely holding back a squeal as she stepped up to the arcane engine. Lobelia took a slow, deep breath, then flexed her fingers.

“Now, as a matter of intellectual curiosity, I’m sure you gentlemen would wonder the same. A little experiment.”

She extended her hand, the spaces between her fingers filling with vague, indistinct shapes, until her palm was filled with dozens of little teardrops. Silken petals flew from her hand, drifting on the breeze. Giuseppe clapped politely.

“It takes an insignificant amount of arcane essence to generate that amount of flora. A very fundamental, if showy spell that even the newest recruit at the Garland can demonstrate. To someone with more experience, like myself, the energy spent is but a drop in a bucket. I don’t mean to brag, of course, only attempting to illustrate the scale of the matter.”

She was totally right. I watched with intellectual curiosity as Lobelia approached the arcane engine and studied the control panel.

“Like this, then?” she asked. I nodded in encouragement as she placed both hands flat against the open pages of the crystalline book. “And I suppose I just infuse my essence into it. Like this?”

A rush of the arcane blew like wind from the open book, a ghostly projection of nonexistent pages flipping at an exhilarating pace as the engine processed Lobelia’s essence. Everyone oohed and aahed at the spectacle. A dramatic touch that the boys and I installed, just to give the device a little extra visual oomph. No big deal.

A flurry of flowers exploded into the air, Lobelia’s tiny, simple spell amped up by several orders of magnitude. More gasps went up from around us. Perfectly dramatic, and more importantly, glorious visual proof that the machine worked. It fucking worked!

Gods, I could almost feel Mom and Dad right there with us, watching proudly as one of their blueprints came to physical fruition. Lore and Whitby, I’d need to show them soon, too. They were beings of artifice, and this was what the magic of artifice could do. And Xander. Where was Xander?

A flock of paper cranes flew across the sky, radiating from the arcane engine in an unending stream even as Kaoru’s laughter filled the afternoon. I’d seen that little trick of his, folding an origami crane and breathing just enough life into the paper to lift it into the air, flap its wings to get around. But now, with the engine, he’d generated enough of them to white out the sky, sending forth gleaming flocks of little cranes in flawless formation.

“Me next!” Beatrice called out, almost colliding with Kaoru as she wriggled her way up to the control panel. Her palms met the glassy crystalline book, and more of the holographic pages turned in a frantic flurry.

Within seconds she’d sent colorful ribbons flying through the air, streamers of silk, swathes of iridescent fabric, all moving under her command. A few bursts of confetti, some floats, and a marching band and we’d have ourselves a full parade, right here at the Halls of Making.

“This is the gayest thing I’ve ever seen,” Niko cried out, one arm slung over his buddy Sedgewick’s shoulders. “It’s so beautiful. This is so corny. Gods, I love you guys.”

I almost laughed, seeing the conflicting emotions struggle their way around the inside of Niko’s body. And then I saw past his head, spotting the black-and-white hair of the man I loved. I couldn’t help but smile.

He jogged up to me with the broadest grin splitting his face, laughing as he picked petals and ribbons out of his hair. I took his face in both hands and kissed him deep. Gods, I must have been so swept up in the moment myself.

“You’re so pretty with your hair like that,” I told him, the petals somehow falling among his curls in the shape of a floral crown. Magic. “And you smell so good.”

Xander sputtered with laughter, wiping his lips on the back of his hand. “What’s gotten into you? Jackson, the machine works! It’s perfect. All your hard work and the arcane engine is finally in action.”

“That’s why I’m so happy!” I said, hardly caring that I was yelling. I pulled him in for a huge embrace, guiding him toward the engine as paper cranes and streamers and petals fell all about us.

Gods, at this rate, I didn’t think we’d even need to get married anymore. This felt like a celebration enough. The universe could roll the credits on our happy-ever-after and I’d be fucking delighted.

“You should give it a try, too,” I told him, my voice trembling.

Everyone who’d tested the machine had only done so to create decorative spells and effects. If the arcane engine could amplify these lovely little gestures into beautiful displays of magic, what more could it do with a real dose of Grayhaven sorcery?

“Yes,” Beatrice said, backing away from the machine, giving space for Xander to take over the controls. “You should try it too, Xander. It feels incredible.”

The Halls of Making went silent as we waited for him to take position. Arguably one of the greatest young mages in the Black Market today — my future husband — and he was about to take the stage. What would the great Xander Wright perform for his first trick?

“Like this?” he asked uncertainly, stepping into position, a conductor at his podium, a wizard in his place of power.

I nodded and licked my lips, burning with anticipation. He smiled and nodded back, encouraged by my enthusiasm.

Xander placed his hands on the pages of the crystalline book.