Engines of Obsession: Chapter 28

Chapter 28: Eruption

It continued to surprise Turner just how gracious Byron had been to them. He was starting to wonder if he'd misjudged the nobility, or if Byron was just a weird outlier in the whole group. It made him wonder if he should discreetly ask around if anyone knew what the man's game was, because the level of support he'd shown was unnaturally generous. It made Turner suspicious that the man had an angle.

He'd even brought Clinker, Turner's mule, up from Sparston.

Yet right now, Byron was frowning. Or to be more specific, Lord Byron the elder was frowning, while the younger one was more sulking in a chair behind him. Turner hadn't expected to see the nephew again any time soon, but apparently the close call from Anne's home invasion had rattled the youth more than he'd expected.

Actually, being rattled by that made Turner respect him a little bit more. Maybe he was smarter than he looked.

"You're certain that the Middletons still have something there? After this long?" Byron asked, staring at the large map he himself had provided.

Turner held his cup out to let Nikandros refill it. Byron's tea was stronger than he was used to, but the flavor was rich and aromatic, and outright cleared his sinuses when he inhaled. The tea had a hint of some kind of spice in it, giving it a bit of bite. He hadn't even realized the cooler nights had started to give him mild congestion until he'd had his first cup.

Nikandros remained silent and impassive as ever. Turner had the feeling that the Cretian man didn't like them, but maybe he was just very stoic and professional.

"Certain? No," Turner answered. "But as you know, I'm not a risk-taking man. I have my doubts that whatever is there is fully intact after a decade without visits, but we know they didn't stay there all the time. They must have built it to last in the wildlands, so there's a very good chance something of value is left."

He sipped the tea and inhaled the nose-tickling aroma again. "Mn. I won't lie to you, Sir Byron. While there is likely something there, I have to admit that the chance it would answer further questions is much, much lower. This is just the best lead we have right now. Our other option would be to chase after Blakely directly, and I don't think that will end well for any of us."

The younger Byron shivered, but backed up Turner. "I have to agree with him, Uncle. She wasn't worried at all about walking right into our home. Mayhap a troop of mercenaries could take her down, but that confidence of hers makes me wonder."

Nora shook her head from where she sat next to Turner on the small sofa. "I doubt it. We have to find her weakness, if she has one." She made a vague wave toward the west. "She had some of the most well-known adventurers in the world secretly chasing her for decades. I'm confident in our skills when we're backed against a wall, but we aren't the Middletons nor Vale's Sentry. We have to be smart about this."

Lord Byron nodded, placing his knuckles together with thumbs rubbing against one another in a thoughtful fidget. "I agree. I hired you so that you could find out more about my brother's death, and you have... but now we only have more questions, and more risk."

He sighed, then leaned forward to tap the map. "You are proposing an expedition that would require... dozens of men, at least. We wouldn't need a full army, we aren't invading, but this is beyond what I expected. It would be a significant cost to me. I am not the most wealthy lord in the Frontier, let alone the Confederacy."

"I understand." Turner sipped his tea again, draining most of the cup. "You paid us to find out what we could, and this is the conclusion we came up with. It's dangerous, but if you do commit, I recommend waiting until after winter. The delay might chafe, but that's the best chance we would have of making it through without losing anyone."

That made Byron take a deep breath and stare at the map. He muttered, "I suppose if there is something there, it could make the money back. Still, it is a risk." He scowled and shook his head. "I want to help you with this. I really do. But it is... a lot. I would need to hire mercenaries, and moving them through the region would draw the attention of the other lords. It would... probably be okay, but another complication."

He rose abruptly, the middle-aged nobleman walking to the large glass window overlooking the streets. Byron had surprised Turner again when he had stayed in the same inn as him and his crew, but The Ivory Horne also had much nicer suites on the top floor, for those visiting nobles who wanted to be more discreet about their stay in the city.

Another sigh, and Byron made a dismissive gesture. "I will need to think it over for some time. Still, you have done an exceptional job thus far." He glanced over his shoulder. "Nikandros, take them out to the market district, will you? That place that has the excellent meat pies? We can discuss this more with the rest of his team over dinner. Fetch enough for the seven of us."

The butler paused and considered. "Meat pies... you mean Lucia's shop, my lord?"

"Yes, yes, that's it! Lucia's!" Byron clapped his hands together. "Not exactly fine dining, but they really are one of the best parts about visiting this town. I do hope you will not find that insulting, Mister Turner."

Turner laughed, and even Nora cracked a smile at that. "Lucia's? We've been here before, Sir, you don't have to ask us twice!"

It was on the way to the market that Nikandros finally broke his silence with them, and spoke to Turner directly.

"I must admit," the man said with that precise, barely-accented Ardentic. "I have mixed feelings about what you have done, Mister Turner."

To that, Turner just grunted. "Just 'Turner' is fine. And what do you mean? We don't have any ill will toward your master." He paused and sidestepped a puddle that had yet to dry from the storms earlier, only to weave to the other side to avoid a hurrying courier boy dashing past. "I'm not fond of the nobility, but Lord Byron seems all right to me. I kind of like him, honestly."

"He's very dignified," Nora agreed, avoiding that same puddle as she followed behind. "I appreciate the respect he's shown us despite the difference in station."

Nikandros gave a short nod. "I do not believe you mean him harm, no. But this task has become more and more complicated, and I can't help but feel that it will endanger him, much as it did his nephew."

The man paused, then slowed his step. The noise of the market up ahead was growing, so he said his piece before it became too loud to make out without raising his voice.

"On the other hand," he added. "He has had such a feeling of melancholy of late. Seeing him interested and energetic is a welcome change. Please do your best to make certain he is not put in harm's way. As a personal favor to me."

Turner raised an eyebrow, then spoke more loudly as the bustle of the crowd started to drown him out. "I prefer not to put anyone in harm's way. We'll do our best."

The man gave a genuine smile, and then said loudly, "I also must admit, I too was hoping we would sample Lucia's pies this trip. We rarely head to Durocor these days, and it has been-"

Nikandros was cut off by a high-pitched shriek from nearby. Immediately afterward, shouts and yelling from the other side of the market broke out. The din of the crowd, full of yelling and panic now, almost drowned out the strange sound of a metallic crash in the distance.

That had to have been very loud, to hear it this far and over the crowd.

Turner reached for his sword, only to remember that here in the city, he'd left it in the room. He still had his revolver, but restrained himself.

Nora yanked Turner to the side, where Nikandros had already flattened himself against the wall they were near. The crowd of the market dispersed rapidly, the panic rippling through it until people were dashing past despite a lack of any idea of what they were fleeing. The source was two blocks away, but the shock and survival instinct spread the stampede of citizens swiftly.

"We should head back!" Turner called to the other two. "Let the city guards handle whatever is going on!" He'd never seen such panic, and the words about Fate came back to him.

... they will encounter the woman's trail more and more often ...

Was this another symptom of that? Had they already exposed themselves too much? Was he just worrying about a superstition?

The sound of an explosion tore through the air. A loud BOOM-CLANG of something under pressure losing containment, and metal tearing itself apart.

Turner saw it then. A construct of some kind, this one compact and squat, or at least originally. He couldn't make out many details as it flew through the air and plowed into the paving stones of the street, tearing them up in a spray of broken stone and gravel.

A construct that had been savagely torn apart, and hurled through the air.

By something more dangerous.