Engines of Obsession: Chapter 25

Chapter 25: Options

It was heading toward evening by the time Turner and Nora returned to the inn.

The room was almost a suite, consisting of two actual rooms linked together. This was convenient, as it allowed Milo to have some privacy to heal while the others were busy with their own matters, but upon returning everyone had gathered into the larger of the two rooms.

Turner set the heavy journal on the end table with a sigh, then flinched as his nose caught the acrid smell of some burning chemical. Nora had hooked her burner into the room's gas line, and it now hissed softly as she prepared to replace some of her alchemical concoctions. He didn't complain, not when those things had saved his life more than once.

"So that's all that you got?" Milo asked. The words were harsh, but the lighter intonation at the end told Turner that he was genuinely curious. He'd managed to settle himself into a chair, but Turner saw a pillow stuffed behind him to ease the angle.

Martin thumped himself down into the only remaining chair in the room. The quieter hunter grumbled, "Don't move around so much. Just because it doesn't hurt as much doesn't mean the ribs are better."

Milo chuckled, then winced. "Trust me, I know. Whatever Nora gave me makes me comfortable, but moving too much or breathing deep hurts." He smiled, "Or laughing."

"I actually need to make more of it," Nora broke in, still concentrating on her work. She had the long, slender box of polished wood set out now. Turner knew it was one of her prize possessions, even if it was just a number of padded compartments. The true money was in the tiny glass bottles and droppers she kept secure there, safe from jostling during travel and combat.

Martin looked up sharply at Nora as the sharp, distinct smell of vinegar drifted over from Nora's table. "You told me it was just willow bark..."

"Mmm, not entirely," Nora murmured, measuring out a few careful drops from one of her containers. This didn't smell, that Turner could detect, but the vinegar scent was growing more potent.

This, Turner knew a little about. "Willow bark is a common folk remedy. I remember my parents grinding it up and putting it in my drink when I banged my knee really bad. I didn't know it was willow at the time, but it probably was." He nodded toward Nora. "Nora just has a way to make it work better."

The witch in question tutted softly, "Concentrating it isn't too hard. The real trick is making it easier on the stomach." She sat back, carefully watching the reaction that hissed in the small plate above the burner. "Chemists actually figured out a way, too, but the chemical they use is too expensive for us. If you know the trick, you can do it with alchemy and have the willow give up its better half."

She seemed satisfied with the reaction, and smiled over to the other two. "It's a little tricky, but I've gotten good at it because it's so useful. How did you think we made money between jobs?"

Turner grunted, "It does sell for decent cash, but I don't like selling off our supply... and finding a buyer is hard. In the frontier, people are too wary. Over in the Confederacy proper, there are laws against selling more potent medicines without an apothecary license."

"Can you make another of those sunburst things?" Martin asked hopefully.

Nora shook her head, "If I could, I'd have done it on the road before now." She patted the satchel beside her. "It needs a very high-temperature furnace. I made a replacement while we were in Edsenburg, don't worry. It's so dangerous I don't like to carry more than one."

She paused, then looked at her setup. "I can make some flash pellets, though. They don't burn nearly as long, just a few seconds, and it's hard to ignite, but I take some spare black powder and make a primer out of it." She lifted one of her vials and tapped it lightly. "It needs refined scarlet ore. I have some, but it would take me a few days to make more, and it's a little complicated."

Then Nora frowned thoughtfully. "And we'd need both scarlet ore and an alchemical pile to refine it. I don't carry that around, but I'm sure we can find one for use in the city. The ore might be trickier, it's down south normally, but it's a common enough alchemical component that we might be able to get some here."

Turner cleared his throat. "We'll see if we can get any, but we're getting off topic." Nora did love to lecture when people showed some curiosity in her talents. Who didn't?

Milo nodded, "Yeah... though uh, real quick, why is the powder white if it's refined scarlet ore?" He gave a sheepish, apologetic smile to Turner when he asked. "And does the book say anything useful?"

The bark of a short laugh slipped from Nora's lips, and she grinned back at Milo. "Good catch. That's just what it looks like when you strip it down to its essence. Some call it sky-metal, but I'm not sure if it has an official name yet." She set the small bottle down. "And the book might have more than we think."

Turner sighed, but with the diversion finally cleared up, he tapped the book. "Maybe. We don't know yet. It has a number of vague encounters that I'm guessing were with Blakely's constructs, and she didn't want to write them down for just anyone."

Then he frowned. "More importantly, she gave me a letter that hints she sort of expected me to end up in something like this. That's... worrying. The last time I saw her I wasn't even twelve yet, and we ran into that machine by pure chance. How could she know I'd end up chasing the same thing? She wasn't a witch or fortune teller."

"That sort of witchcraft would be incredibly rare and powerful, too," Nora confirmed. "It does seem strange. Then again, it's very strange that your old mentor would turn out to have a link to the machine we just stumbled upon. If you think about it, the odds of all this happening and being linked together are incredibly slim."

Martin lifted a finger. "Um..." He hesitated a moment, then looked at the other three and continued. "I hate to say this, but I know fortune tellers are usually faking it. They tell you vague things and you just read into it what you want to see. Are you sure she's hinting at it, or are you just imagining it because that's what makes sense?"

A soft chuckle rose from where Nora sat. "That's very true, I'm glad to see you are careful about it." The smile faded. "But we're pretty sure."

Turner nodded, and quoted the letter. "She said: 'If you know that you are part of my great hunt already, then I have given you all the tools you need to take up my mantle and, with luck and skill, finish my task.'" Then he frowned. "She also said I watched her write in this book 'many a night' though. I was really only at her house for any amount of time once, for about a month when I was ten."

"And did you watch her write in it?" Milo asked, grunting curiously.

A few memories bubbled up as Turner considered the question. "Well, a few times," he admitted. "I would run into the study and she'd be copying notes from her journals into here, I remember that. She'd usually finish up the section, close the book, and talk to me. She never even told me what was in..."

The trailing off of his sentence got frowns from everyone else, but Turner ignored them. He reviewed the memories, picturing every time the slender but strong and calloused fingers writing along the paper, the book laid flat and open. Often closed, the soft protective leather cover folding over the pages.

"Turner?" Nora prompted.

He looked at the book. It was the same book, Turner knew, but the cover was different. Firm, fancy, embossed leather with a hard back. But the book hadn't been rebound, had it?

"I think I know what she meant when she said the answer wasn't between the pages," Turner said.

With a deep breath, he drew the pen knife from his side and picked up his heirloom.