An Unexpected Magician, page 23
“I’m not perfect at cooling, but I’ll try it. I found the spell while practicing in Manford,” Justin said.
Justin cooled the glasses enough to make the cold cloud the outside of the glass with beads of moisture.
Farah took a sip. “Well, I’m impressed. This is almost as cold as iced drinks, which aren’t available until it's cold again.”
“Not in Telsia, if you know where to go,” Zach said.
Justin told Zach about the invitation.
“Sounds like fun for Justin,” Zach said. “Didn’t you want to talk to me about your future at the academy? Neither of us has anything pressing.”
Farah sipped the fruit juice again and looked at Justin. “I’d rather do it in private.”
Justin smiled. “I understand. I’ll be upstairs in my room. I have plenty to keep me busy.”
He took his glass of untouched fruit punch and left. He was curious about what the two would talk about, but if Farah wanted to share anything, it was up to her to bring it up.
He heard the front door close and brought his empty glass into the kitchen, where Zach was washing up. He gave the drink to Zach.
“Farah is a brilliant lady,” Zach said.
“Were you able to help her?” Justin asked.
“I gave her a couple of names of people to talk to, but we mostly talked about you. She is on her way to being smitten.”
“Smitten,” Justin said. “I’m unsure if I’m smitten, but I like her.”
“Worried about her being your first girlfriend?” Zach asked.
“Yes,” Justin said without hesitation.
“She has had boyfriends before, but she grew up in a strict environment, and now that she has tasted freedom in Manford and here, she worries about overreacting, too. I suggested that you both take it easy and not get too serious about things.”
“And she accepted your advice?” Justin asked.
Zach barked out a laugh. “Do you accept all my advice?”
“Mostly,” Justin said.
“I’m sure Farah will think about it. That is the kind of young woman that she is. She reminds me of Lisiane without the magic but an even sharper mind.”
“Did you recommend that she enter the military college?” Justin said.
“I suggested a few military strategy courses to attend as an outsider. We talked about that before.”
Justin nodded his head and raised his hand to forestall any objection. “I won’t pry anymore.”
Zach grinned. “Good. You dry, I’ll wash. By the way, I’m done washing.”
~
“Do you know what garonite is?” Justin asked Master Pitch while they observed hot metal being pressed between two rollers to make sheets for armor.
“I’ve heard of it. I’m surprised you have,” David said.
“I ran across the term while overhearing it in a weapons shop. I learned it is an alternative to metal armor.”
Master David nodded. “It will be when it’s perfected, but right now, it isn’t, from what I hear. If cured, which is done to make it hard, the material is too brittle. A ball would shatter it to pieces.”
“And if it isn’t cured?”
“There is no strength. It would be like thick unboiled leather. We won’t be worried about such things for years yet, and nothing beats metal for holding a fighting edge,” the master said. “Are you going to study garonite when you are in the materials program at the academy?”
Justin shrugged. “Perhaps. I was curious, mostly.”
“Keep the curiosity up, but don’t get involved in a project that might take years to complete. You are too young for that.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Justin said and went silent as the metal sheet passed through the rollers for the fourth time. “Why doesn’t the metal melt the rollers?”
“Good question, lad. See those hoses?” David pointed to hoses hooked up to the machine. “The rollers are water-cooled. It is a complicated problem to get the water into something that is revolving, but we did it. That’s why we make the best sheet metal in the capital.”
“Can you show me how that works in more detail?” Justin asked.
David turned to look at Justin. “Are you here to steal my secrets?”
“No, Master. I am here to learn how things work. There has to be a process, an idea, behind the water connection. That is what I want to learn, how to make a better roller. Our agreement states that I can’t divulge any trade secrets.”
Master David smiled and folded his arms. “It does, doesn’t it? Let’s go to the stamping machine.”
David led Justin to another part of the facility. Pulleys and carts surrounded a machine that looked like an enormous printing press. Whatever they did, didn’t require the metal to be red hot.
“We use dies and the big press; that’s what the machine is called.”
“What is a die?”
David walked to a rack of flat metal panels. There were shaped holes in the panels, and on closer inspection, Justin noticed sharp edges around the shapes.
“We make dinnerware and inexpensive knives on this machine. Rather than cut each item out, we use the dies to cut into the sheet metal. The dies are very time-consuming to make. We can also put the items in another set of dies to shape them.”
“Like putting curves into a fork?”
David nodded. “Without access to the river, we couldn’t do any of this.”
Justin watched a cut-down sheet of metal put under the press. He heard ratcheting as the machine raised the massive metal block into the air, and a metalworker released the press.
The clanging sound made Justin take half a step back, making David laugh.
The ratcheting commenced as the press was raised a foot above the bed. A metalworker pulled a lever, letting the bed slide on thick rollers. He lifted the sheet and left behind flat spoons.
“Ah. You put the spoons into a die to stamp the shape into the metal.”
David nodded. “Then we finish the edges and do other things like add another layer of metal to the handle.” The master shrugged. We make more money producing cutlery than anything else in the shop since we can ship them all over the empire. Different countries and provinces can order different shapes.”
“What about weapons?”
“Another building. Weapons demand more care than stamping parts. A proper edged weapon needs to be forged to hold an edge and worked to be flexible and strong. Our best artisans are weapon makers.
“And guns?” Justin asked.
David grinned. “Guns require all our expertise. The little parts that move can be stamped. Pistol frames can be cast, and the barrels are forged to give them the strength to withstand many firings. We will save the tour of the gun factory for another time, although there are parts made with the stamping machine.”
They returned to the little conference room, where they discussed his apprenticeship with Zach.
“What do you want to do?” David asked.
“I have no experience to make demands or enough knowledge to know what I should do,” Justin said.
“Another good question; you seem to be full of them. For the first month, we will train you to be a helper. Nothing too technical, but you can observe what is being done. We will start with the stamping machine and then take you to the foundry where we make the metal and then the rolling machine and others we use.”
“Learn the basics,” Justin said.
“More or less, but there is more technique that takes months and years of full-time work. If we can give you an appreciation of what goes on, you’ll be prepared to put ideas together in your first year,” Master David said. “That’s enough for today. Come back on Fourth Day ready to work. Wear old clothes since they won’t last long, even with you being a helper.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
~
T he visit to Brockson Metalworks stimulated Justin’s mind. He imagined the parts in his bullet pistols and could see what parts could be stamped and what would need a different technique. He wondered who made the wood for the frame. Even that could be made out of metal.
Concentrating on his other classes was a challenge, but he made it through the day. Zach was waiting for him when he returned from the academy.
“Farah informed me that it likely was you didn’t have the right clothes for the party this Sixday,” Zach said. “Rebecca was the one to prompt her to get in contact. There is a certain style that is acceptable for this kind of social event, and you definitely would be the provincial bumpkin if you showed up in your normal dress.”
“But I’m not a bumpkin when I go to class?” Justin asked. He thought he dressed appropriately enough, much like everyone else.
“No. Let’s get you outfitted and have a nice Dakeshian-style dinner. I know just the place that isn’t too Dakeshian.”
Justin ran upstairs and put his schoolbag on his desk and his academic robe on the clothes tree.
“What’s available at the students’ market that is adequate?” Zach said.
“You’ve been to these kinds of parties before?”
Zach laughed. “A few times, but there aren’t as many opportunities when you are in the military college. Anyway, styles have changed enough since I was a student.”
“Nothing too fancy,” Justin said.
“Fancy touches are required, but let’s see what’s available,” Zach said.
He dispensed with stalls and walked down a street of shops facing the market. Justin noticed that the weapons shop had closed down. He didn’t want to speculate and focused on what kind of garb he would be wearing Sixday night, but when he reached the passageway that led to the back of the shop, Justin stopped.
“I want to see what happened to the weapon’s shop,” Justin said.
“It’s closed. What else do you need to know?” Zach said, but Justin could tell Zach wasn’t trying to pull him back to the street.
“Teawater Transport,” Justin said. “That’s why.”
Zach sighed. “Lead on,” he said, waving his hand toward the alley.
Justin knew the back of the shop and looked inside from the tiny back window. “It’s a mess,” he said. Justin tried the door, but it was locked.
Zach looked up and down the street. “That doesn’t have to be a barrier.” Zach pulled out a tiny pouch and worked the lock. Before long, the door opened.
“We don’t take anything with us. Got it?” Zach said. “If we get caught with anything, it is straight to jail.” He gestured to Justin to go in first.
Justin quickly looked at the storage in the back where they entered. Every box had been ripped open, and the contents examined, looking at how the merchandise was spread on the floor. He walked to the front of the shop.
“Someone cleaned out the gun section. Everything having to do with firearms was here,” Justin said. The same kind of destructive searching had destroyed the front of the shop.
“Don’t step there,” Zach said, pointing to a dark stain in the middle of the floor. “Probably the shopkeeper’s blood.”
“Look at this,” Justin said.
Written in blood was the Teawater Transport tattoo, a circle with a wavy line.
“Poorly drawn.” Zach put a hand to his chin and stood looking at the stain and the drawing.
“It is conceivable that the shopkeeper could have drawn this,” Justin said.
“Or it is a warning to someone,” Zach said. “That answer isn’t going to be answered here. Time to leave.”
Zach was using his tools to lock the door when a pair of constables approached them.
“And what are you doing?” one of the constables asked.
“Breaking and entering, mostlike,” the other one said.
Zach sighed. “We’ve already been inside, if you must know. There is a patch of blood amidst all the mess,” Zach said. “There is a circle with a wavy line, likely written by the shopkeeper, if he was the victim.”
“The shopkeeper was the perpetrator, not the victim,” a constable said.
The other one poked his partner in the ribs. “You aren’t supposed to tell them that.”
“Where is the shopkeeper, then?” Justin asked.
“Where do you think?” the talkative constable said. “He’s in jail.”
“Did the victim have a shaven head?” Justin asked.
“How did you know?”
The other constable rolled his eyes. “Can’t you keep your mouth shut?”
“I was in the shop the weekend before last and was curious why the shop was closed.”
“Had your eye on something?”
“I looked at his guns, but they’ve gone missing,” Justin said.
“If you let us search you for contraband, we will let you go if you promise not to return.”
Zach gave the constable half a grin and raised his arms. Justin did the same. The constable did a quick pat-down, and Justin and Zach were back on the street.
“That could have been worse, much worse,” Justin said.
“It was worse enough. A description of the two of us will be in a report at the end of their shift,” Zach said.
“They said they’d let us go,” Justin said.
“A promise fulfilled,” Zach said. “Promises can be broken. Follow me.”
Justin had to follow Zach walk briskly past shops until they came to a large one.
“This is where we were supposed to go.”
“I’m sorry about our little detour,” Justin said.
“We’ll talk of it when we get off the street, but not out in the open,” Zach said.
Justin learned that party clothes were quite different than he had imagined. He thought they would be like the suit of clothes he had worn to Lord Camber’s ball in Manford. Instead, the shop had racks of party clothes made of softer material and cut for comfort. Some of the colors and patterns were outrageous.
“I’d be more comfortable wearing something muted,” Justin said.
“So you can fade into the background?” Zach said, making the pretty female shop assistant giggle.
Justin lifted his chin. “If need be,” he said.
“Brown and black with a touch of tan. People need to know where you are, young sir,” the woman said, smiling at Zach more than Justin.
“Let’s go with that, then,” Zach said.
Justin ended up with a finely knitted jacket, a tan and black striped sweater vest with dark brown trousers of a loose wool weave that was stretchier than Justin had first thought.
She grabbed a white shirt with a simple frill at the neck. The fabric wasn’t loose, but it was a generous cut. “Want to try it on?”
Justin looked at Zach. “Should I?”
“You should,” Zach said, smiling at the shop assistant, who looked thrilled to have Justin disappear for a few minutes.
Justin went into a changing closet and put the outfit on. The jacket needed to be larger, and when he walked out of the closet, Zach and the lady were chatting, obviously enjoying each other’s company.
“I need a larger size,” Justin said. The shopkeeper exchanged jackets, and Justin was all set for Six Day. He gave the pair a little more time as he donned his old clothes.
The woman wrapped Justin’s purchase and spent more time continuing her conversation with Zach as Justin paid for his purchase.
“Time to go,” Justin said as he waited at the door while Zach and the woman exchanged cards.
“You never know who you might meet,” Zach said as they headed across the market to the Dakeshian restaurant.
“You knew her?” Justin asked.
“Perhaps ‘know’ is too strong a word. I’m sure we have mutual friends somewhere in the capital,” Zach said.
“You will meet her again?”
Zach sighed. “It is within the realm of possibility. Just as spending the night in jail was, and might still be, in the realm of possibility.”
Even Justin recognized that the Dakeshian restaurant was decorated like a parody of Dakesh. There were hanging drapes everywhere, and all the chairs seemed to be cut off, so the legs were a foot high, and that was the start. Justin was so overwhelmed he stopped noticing.
“I’ve been to Dakesh, and the eating places are not like this,” Zach said. “But I like this food better than the authentic versions. They make it to Telsian tastes.”
Zach did the ordering, and Justin leaned over.
“What did you think about the weapons shop?” Justin said.
“I still don’t know if there was misdirection,” Zach said. “The presence of the symbol seemed out of place. It would have made more sense if the shopkeeper had been the victim. What do you think?”
“Other than conjecture?” Justin asked.
Zach nodded.
“A misdirection,” Justin said.
Zach leaned closer to Justin. “Why do you think that?”
“It is out of place. The shaven-headed man would have had a tattoo if he was a thug.”
“And if he wasn’t?” Zach asked.
“Then no tattoo and the symbol makes more sense.”
After folding his arms. “What do you lack in your analysis?” Zach asked.
Justin laughed. “Facts. If we knew a little more, we could deduce more.”
“Good. The missing firearms? Was that a misdirection?”
Justin shook his head. “Maybe. I think the firearms caused the whole thing, but why take every weapon, ammunition, and powder? That seems to be too much. Perhaps a piece, the repeating pistol, for example, was the target, and the thieves took all the firearms to hide what they were truly after.”
“It could be, but what if there was a garonite chest piece in the shop?” Zach said.
“The deduction would have to change,” Justin said, “and the theft of the firearms could still be a distraction.”
“I think you are right,” Zach said. “We don’t know enough to get involved. Our suppositions won’t do us a bit of good.”
The constabulary would have more facts than they had, but headquarters, unlike the indiscreet constable, would keep the information to themselves.
The food came, and Justin liked some of the dishes, but there was one he definitely would stay away from in the future.
