CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Embody your hopes in your work.

Let your deeds be a home for your

good intentions.

—THE HARMONY OF BEING

Zeli spent the passage to Yaly almost entirely with her jaw hanging open. The as-yet unnamed ship sailed down the coast, passing mountain ranges and forests and other ships of all kinds on the busy waterway. The well-traveled route was far more congested than she ever would have expected the sea to be, though between Rosira and Fremia’s capital city of Adara, there were no other ports of note.

Eskar, their captain, was a wealth of information. He explained that though Raun had only embargoed Elsira, the action had caused a disastrous ripple effect to the trade in and out of the country. As such, Adara was far busier than ever.

The ship didn’t slow as it passed the Fremian city’s metal spires and glass towers. Smoke and noise and congestion wafted from its shore, and Zeli was glad not to be going there. She’d thought Rosira a big city, but it was a Midcountry outpost compared to the megacity that was Adara. The taciturn Lanar made a rare statement advising them that Yaly’s cities were even larger. She tried to prepare herself.

The body of water that led to land-locked Yaly was called Dunbay. After her first glance of a true urban labyrinth, the greenery and marshland on the banks of the bay were quite welcome. Eskar pointed out the course they were taking on the maps, and Zeli tried to commit this new, vast world to memory.

“The majority of the bay belongs to Fremia,” he explained, “however, it is the only way to access Yaly from the Delaveen Ocean. Fortunately for the Yalyish, Fremia remains neutral in times of conflict.”

“But Fremia is so much smaller,” she said. “Couldn’t Yaly crush them?”

“There is a reason they haven’t all these years. Yaly is a large land, but fractured. It would take the movement of mountains to make all the commonwealths come together to work as one. A broken thing is never strong. Fremia is smaller, but cohesive. Unity is part of their culture. Unity and excellence. Their small force can, and has, routed one twenty times as large.”

“How do you know all this?” Varten asked in wonder.

Eskar dipped his head. “I worked with the Sisterhood for the past few years. Some of the Sisters were very politically minded. I learned much through listening to their conversations.”

Zeli had been happy to spend the majority of the journey chatting with Yalisa, whom she never thought she’d see again. The former mistress of Zeli’s employer had been sent to the camps in Lagrimar, a victim of political scheming. Zeli told her of how the Magister, in whose home they’d both lived, had been nearly killed by his daughter’s fiancé, but little Ulani had saved his life. They mused on the man’s whereabouts.

“He was likely arrested as one of the True Father’s agents,” Yalisa said, sadness filling her voice. Though her former lover had been the one responsible for her arrest, Zeli could tell she still had feelings for him. Once Yalisa had held a position she’d envied—but it hadn’t lasted.

“You think he will be executed with the others?” Zeli whispered.

Yalisa blinked. “He probably deserves it.” She took a breath, shaking off the moment of melancholy. “What do you hope for in Yaly?” she asked with a small smile. “I’m surprised you’d be so interested in such a rowdy-sounding event. Didn’t you always like the quiet, simpler things?”

“I did. But … this is practically once in a lifetime. I’ve realized that the way I used to think about things needed to shift. The world is changing, we need to as well.”

“Hmm.” Yalisa looked thoughtful. “Yes, change is inevitable … Eventually. It did take Lagrimar quite a long time.”

“What do you hope for?” Zeli whispered.

Yalisa laughed, a sound full of both mirth and uncertainty. “Anything. Everything. Life. I do not think we even know how to live properly. I would like to learn.” She tilted her head up to the sky where the midday sun brightened her face. “I want to breathe in life. To have it empty its lungs inside of me, and rise into the air filled with all of the experiences and feelings and joys and fears and everything in between.”

She sobered somewhat and turned back to Zeli with a chuckle. “But I don’t even know what to hope for, and that is the real tragedy, is it not?”

Zeli nodded, in complete understanding. “But I know you’ll find out. I’m so happy for you, and I hope not to lose touch with you.”

Yalisa grabbed her hands and squeezed. “Of course, uli, we shall not lose one another forever. Maybe I will travel for a few years, or perhaps Eskar and I will settle down somewhere, but either way, I hope you will come and visit wherever I am. You and your … friend?” The small smile she gave hinted at more with Varten, but Zeli’s cheeks heated and she shook her head at the idea of more. Though sometimes it was difficult to remember that wasn’t what she wanted.

“I would like very much to visit you, when all this is over.” Part of her wanted to forget about the Rumpus and just stay with her now. Yalisa had been a mother figure to a young orphaned servant, one of the only people who had truly cared for her.

They were quiet after that, taking in the sights of the busy bay and Melbain City looming in the distance. Zeli had been to Sayya, Lagrimar’s capital city, once as a child; she didn’t recall much but noise and stench and fear, but as the bay narrowed and their ship was funneled into a wide river, she realized that even her glimpse of Adara had not prepared her for a true megacity.

Great metal towers rose in the air for what looked like kilometers. Their small ship passed under bridges filled with belching autos—no horses and carts were mixed in with them like on Rosira’s streets. Smokestacks poured thick, bilious smog into the air, turning the sky from blue to gray, even though the sun shone.

There was an underlying noise to the city, a buzzing drone that threatened to drown out all thought. The temperature was similar to Rosira and the people she saw hurrying through the streets wore drab, dark coats, heads covered with hats. Her wonderment was mixed with revulsion at the thought of living in such a place.

The river led them past a dozen or more docking areas, packed with crafts of various sizes, but Eskar sailed on. Soon they found a spot in an overcrowded marina. Once they exited the boat, they had to negotiate a narrow, floating walkway until they finally arrived on dry land.

While Eskar went to the marina office, seeking someone who spoke Elsiran, Zeli was faced with saying good-bye to her friend and mentor. “How long will you stay in the city?” she asked.

“Maybe a day or two. Long enough to say we’ve visited, though I don’t know that I’d like to stay here very long.” She looked up at the towering structures dubiously.

Zeli was glad that Yalisa had her brother with her. Neither spoke the language, they did not have much money, or even their Songs to rely upon, but they also had no fear. After surviving the True Father, why should they?

Eskar returned and they all said their good-byes. Zeli tried, and failed, not to cry as Yalisa and her brother disappeared into the city to explore a bit. Once they were out of sight and her tears had still not stopped, she ducked her head and fiddled with the strap of the small bag that held what few possessions she had. She did not want to face the others in such a state.

“We should see about transportation to Gilmeria,” Lanar announced, startling her with his voice. He’d spoken so rarely on the trip down, fortunately abandoning his questions about how Varten had learned to speak Lagrimari. “It’s quite a ways away.”

Zeli recalled the map. They would have to travel north again, toward the mountains bordering Lagrimar. Airship or train were the best options to get to Gilmer City quickly. Varten got directions to the air station from an attendant who spoke broken Elsiran and they made their way on foot through the busy streets.

Pedestrians here were even ruder than in Rosira. Zeli was jostled and shaken so much by passing elbows and shoulders that she thought she might turn into a milkshake. After one particular bone-jarring rattle, Varten put a protective arm around her. She sank into his side, avoiding a large handbag headed for her face, though she was careful not to grip him too tightly.

Yalisa’s knowing smile haunted her memory—it had been a little too on target—and as soon as they turned onto a quieter street, she pulled away abruptly. She tried to ignore the small expression of hurt that crossed his face when she did so.

The air station was in the center of the city. Airships big and small filled the tarmac. Zeli had only ever seen the king’s airship in Elsira, which was tiny compared to the airbuses built to ferry hundreds of people across the continent.

Lanar, who mysteriously knew a few words of Yalyish, went off to investigate schedules and prices. Though he had not shared much about himself, he must have been a prisoner of war like Eskar, stuck in Elsira since the last Breach War. They agreed to meet back at the entrance to the air station. Beside her, Varten was quiet. She hadn’t talked to him much on the journey, so absorbed by seeing Yalisa again. Of course, he’d been busy with Eskar, learning the workings of the fishing ship.

People milled about in large groups, but a ripple of disturbance caught Zeli’s attention. “What is that?” she gasped as something cut its way through the crowd. Exclamations and curses rang out as people tripped and leapt away.

The gap grew closer, revealing a tiny, mechanical dog scurrying across the floor. Its body was metal, including a very busy, articulated tail. It paused, turning its silver head to look around, then seemed to focus on Zeli. Two shiny, glass marbles served as its eyes, and while she wasn’t certain such a thing could even see, the contraption hastened its movements, coming straight for her.

She reached down to stop its forward momentum and picked it up, dodging its still moving feet. The creature was lighter than she’d expected and vibrated, letting out a little “yip” before a warm tongue reached out to lick her. It wasn’t wet, rather it was made of some kind of beaten leather, soft and ticklish.

A man’s voice called out, and she spied a figure jogging through the wake of confusion the little dog had left. He was portly and grandfatherly—or at least what she imagined a grandfather might be like. Round and gray and balding, with ochre skin and twinkling eyes. He moved with surprising speed until he’d caught up with the mechanical creature.

The dog licked her again and she giggled. The old man worked to catch his breath while the crowd around them went back to normal, as if nothing strange had happened. He smiled and spoke in a fast stream of Yalyish.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” she said, first in Lagrimari, then in Elsiran.

He stopped and squinted at her, then reached for the side of his head. What was left of his hair frothed out messily around his head, but his motion revealed what looked like a metal ear. He adjusted the contraption, which hissed alarmingly, before quieting.

“Now, what was that?” he asked in Elsiran. “Ah yes, miss, I thank ye for rescuing m’dog.” He reached for it, and she handed the still wiggly creature over.

“You are welcome,” she said carefully. She turned to a stunned Varten and whispered in Lagrimari, “What do you think that thing on his ear is?”

“Well, missy, lost m’ear in the Tin War of ’02. Got this replacement from Fremia. Came upgraded with a language module.”

Varten squinted, while Zeli’s jaw dropped. “You understand Lagrimari? Is that an amalgam?”

“I thought they weren’t making amalgamations any more after the Physicks headquarters was destroyed,” Varten said, again in Lagrimari. His voice was unusually cautious.

The man responded in Elsiran. “Oh no, no more of those. All the stores selling out, no more recharges, all useless junk they are now as soon as they run out of power. But this mech is based on a similar idea. Different application. Cutting edge. Me granddaughter is an engineer down in Adara, working on assistive tech. She got me on some list of testers. I can’t speak Lagrimari, but I can understand any tongue on Saint Melba’s green earth. Comes in handy.” He motioned to the dog still wiggling in her arms to be let free. “I thank ye for helping Ziggy here. He tends to run off.”

“Is he another of your granddaughter’s creations?” Varten asked, wide-eyed.

“He is indeed. Zigs is me best companion. Now, I do some tinkering myself. I reckon that’s where me granddaughter got the idea of it, and it’s how I got me name. Allow me to introduce meself. I’m the Tinker.” He sketched an elegant bow at odds with his more humble appearance.

“Your name is the Tinker?” Zeli asked, agape. She was both astonished that that was a name and at the fact she had understood so much of what he’d said. He spoke both slowly and clearly, but it was more than that and she wondered at what exactly the metal ear did, and how it was accomplished.

“Why yes, that’s what they call me.” He winked, chuckling.

Lanar returned then with a curious glance at the Tinker. “Passage on an airship will cost us dearly. All the prices have been raised on account of the popularity of the Rumpus.”

“Yer all going to the Rumpus?” the Tinker asked, voice swelling. “’ Tis highway robbery what they’re charging folk for the trip this close to the event. Yer both Lagrimari?” He motioned to Zeli and Lanar.

“Why?” Lanar asked, narrowing his eyes at the same time that Zeli answered, “Yes.”

Lanar gave her a speaking glare, effectively communicating that she should be more circumspect around strangers. Then again, he was a stranger, too.

The Tinker hooted and slapped his thigh. Ziggy, now held in one arm, yelped. “I never met a real-life Lagrimari before. Boy have I got some questions for ye. How ’bout this? I haven’t been to a Rumpus in an age. I’ll give ye all a ride up, free of charge, and ye can tell me all about life under a madman.”

Zeli blinked. The offer was unexpected and not entirely welcome. She had no desire to talk about the True Father. Evidently Lanar agreed. “That will not be necessary,” he answered coldly.

With a deft movement of his arm, he shepherded both Zeli and Varten away from the grinning man.

“I’ll be at platform eighty-nine if ye change yer minds,” the Tinker called out amiably. Ziggy punctuated the message with a metallic bark that sounded both cheerful and sad.

“He was quite a character,” Varten said, motioning toward the older man’s retreating form.

Lanar was able to speak volumes without saying a word. A raised brow and haughty expression left no doubt as to what he thought about the Tinker. “Airship rates are all around ninety Dahlinean shings per person, one way.”

“That’s a lot?” Zeli asked.

“About one-hundred and fifty Elsiran pieces.”

Varten whistled.

“Do you have the funds to cover such?” Lanar asked. “I do not.”

But Varten nodded and fished out his wallet. “I can get your ticket. I’ll have to visit the bank afterward though.”

Zeli looked back and forth between them, a question forming in her mind. Varten caught her eye and lifted a shoulder. “I told him who I really am.” Her gaze shifted to Lanar.

“And I promised not to refer to him as Your Grace during the journey.” The man didn’t smile, he never seemed to, but there was humor in his voice at least. “I deeply appreciate this and will pay you back as soon as possible.”

Varten brushed this off. “It’s not really my money anyway.”

She could tell by Varten’s expression that he hadn’t told Lanar their real reason for going to the Rumpus. They’d promised not to tell anyone.

The inside of the air station was just as congested and noisy as the outside. They pushed their way through the masses to reach the currency exchanger. Varten handed over his stack of crisp bills and received a fistful of strange coins in return.

This Yalyish money wasn’t made of any metal she recognized, it was multicolored and shifted shades when the light hit it in certain ways. As they walked away, she gasped in delight while Varten held up a coin and tilted it this way and that, making the colors dance. “Incredible,” she said on a breath. This city wasn’t all bad.

Lanar, who was studying the airship schedule posted on the far wall, looked over his shoulder at them and pursed his lips. “Best put that away.”

But it was too late.

A hand reached up to grab Varten’s arm. Someone shoved Zeli out of the way, while a boy about her age punched Varten in the stomach. Another—or maybe the same one who’d punched him, she couldn’t be certain—snatched the coin from his hand.

Enraged, Zeli righted herself and ran forward, landing a fist on the back of one of the attackers. This one pinned Varten in a bear hug, while his companion grabbed the wallet from Varten’s pocket as he struggled and cursed.

It all happened so fast. Almost too fast to believe. One minute they were surrounded by thieves, Zeli couldn’t even tell how many there were, the next minute it was just the crowd again, everyone rushing to and fro. Passing them by without a second look.

She shook, unable to even gather her breath to shout—though what good would it do now? Varten was doubled over, holding his stomach, and then Lanar was there, scanning the crowd with hard eyes and a grim expression.

“Should we call for a constable?” Zeli wondered.

Lanar clucked his tongue. “We should call for a doctor, though I don’t believe there’s any medicine for foolishness.” His voice was a whip crackling in the air. “Why would you flaunt your money around like that, are you an imbecile?”

His tone made Zeli’s bones turn brittle; she froze in surprise at his venom. Varten straightened his back, but there was no righteous anger in him. His hand still covered his stomach but his shoulders were slumped. He looked like a deflated balloon. His head dropped until only his hair was visible. “I’ve got more in the bank,” he mumbled.

She reached out to him then, placing a hand on his arm. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

He shook his lowered head. “I’m fine. And I’m sorry, I was being stupid.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I was the one who wanted to see the money change colors.”

“But you didn’t rob us.” His voice was low and rough. She’d never heard him sound like this.

“No, and neither did you.” She wanted so badly to see his face, to reassure him. “It was a mistake. I-I didn’t expect…” She looked around again at the endless throngs of people. Any of them could be a criminal. Just because people dressed well and didn’t have the air of poverty and desperation she’d grown up wary of didn’t mean they were good.

“You’re not an imbecile,” she whispered, just for him.

He lifted his head then and gave her a rueful look that said he didn’t quite believe her. A heavy band squeezed around her chest—that desolate, barren expression was so foreign on him. It was just wrong.

Varten was meant to be lightness and smiles and good humor. He was not this gutted thing, so obviously beating himself up.

Lanar sighed. “The banks are closed at this hour. We will not be able to book passage until tomorrow.”

The Rumpus started tomorrow and if they didn’t arrive until midday, they could well miss their opportunity to access the Archives.

“There’s another option,” she said, annoyed at Lanar for the way he’d spoken to Varten. Annoyed at the thieves and the crowd and the city. “Platform eighty-nine?” She had no desire to sell her people’s pain for transport, but that was the currency they had available.

Lanar’s eyes narrowed in distaste and she thought about how little they knew of him. Nothing really, as he wasn’t much of a conversationalist. Yalisa and Eskar had seemed to trust him enough to offer passage, but just because he was a countryman that didn’t mean he was a friend. His words, quick and hurtful, had added to an already bad situation. She was no longer certain she wanted him around.

She focused instead on Varten, grabbing his arm gently. This was their mission, they’d undertaken it together, and they didn’t need anyone else’s approval. His expression radiated uncertainty. “The Tinker will help us.”

Although she wasn’t always sure about trusting her own judgement, she had a good feeling about the Tinker. And at least they had something he wanted, an odd something, but it could be bartered.

However, Varten looked to Lanar for confirmation. It seemed he would not make a decision without it. Growing even more annoyed, she turned to face the man.

After a short lifetime, he nodded. “Very well, the Tinker it is.”

She bristled at his tone, and almost missed Varten’s sigh of relief. She wanted to speak to him privately, reassure him that they could do this on their own, the way they’d planned. She wasn’t even certain how much she believed it, but Varten’s confidence was part of what had been propelling her forward. This was probably just a temporary setback because of the speed and surprise of the robbery. It would just take him some time to return to normal.

But a tickling in the back of her mind warned caution. As they headed out of the station and back onto the tarmac, she stayed alert, her heart heavy and her guard up now more than ever.

---

Varten was having difficulty swallowing. Next to him, Zeli’s head was on a swivel, hypervigilant to their surroundings to prevent another attack. But all he could do was feel the arms around him, squeezing him like a vise. Pinning him motionless and helpless.

He was back in a cold room, straps holding him down on a hard table. Needles piercing his skin. The liquid injected into him was freezing, it made his veins burn cold. His throat threatened to close up and he tried breathing in slowly through his nose to get some air.

His mind didn’t return to the prison very often, though it existed there at the edges, the metal bars and cement floors looming just out of sight whenever he closed his eyes. Moments of powerlessness brought him back. When his body betrayed him and his mind was set adrift, lost in a sea of suffering.

He should have stayed in the palace in Rosira, at least there he couldn’t hurt anyone. Get anyone hurt. The thought of something happening to Zeli nearly undid him. He’d never forgive himself. Just like he hadn’t forgiven himself for the last time his ineptitude had resulted in harm and pain for people he cared about.

His ears pounded and he stumbled, blind to his surroundings. A smaller hand in his, squeezing tight, brought him back. He blinked, suddenly back in the present, and looked down at Zeli, whose face was creased with concern.

He longed to reassure her, but couldn’t say a thing. What was there to be sure of?

His own stupidity had resulted in them being robbed. Life in the country, life in a cell, hadn’t prepared him for this city. These people. He’d put the target on his own chest and hadn’t used plain common sense. Just another liability.

They approached platform eighty-nine and his spirits fell further. He’d taken an immediate liking to the Tinker with his obvious eccentricities, but the pile of metal sitting on the platform didn’t look like it would fly anywhere. It didn’t look like any of the other ships they’d passed. Instead of sleek and aerodynamic, it was boxy and blocky. A disparate mass of dull gray parts that seemed more like a scrap heap than a vehicle.

The three of them stopped short, staring at it. Confusion and dismay settled across Varten’s shoulders. His vision swam and he thought he might pass out.

The shrill dissonance of a mechanical bark cleared his head. Ziggy ran up, clattering across the blacktop, showing his obvious delight. He sped over to Zeli, who squatted down to pet his metal hide. Lanar took a quick step away from the little dog and eyed the “ship” dubiously.

“Ziggy? Where’d ye get off to now?” the Tinker cried as he came from around the other side of the ship. A broad smile split his face, causing something within Varten to settle. “Ye decided to take me up on me offer then, eh?”

He couldn’t bring himself to answer, so Zeli spoke up. “There was a situation,” she said. “We were robbed. We won’t be able to pay you anything until the banks open in the morning, but I promise we do have funds.” She looked at Varten, “I mean, one of us does.”

“Aw, pshaw,” the Tinker said. “I’ve told ye my price. I’ll take ye up for the stories alone.”

Lanar stepped forward, arms crossed. “You must understand, talk of life under the True Father is not entertaining. It can be very painful to relay.”

The Tinker’s face fell as his brows rose. “Oh, no, no, I don’t want to hear about the awful things. I wouldn’t put you through that. I want to know about normal life there. Breakfast, and how the sun looks when it rises, and what songs you sing when you’re working, things like that.”

Lanar tilted his head in confusion, but Zeli smiled. For a moment, Varten was caught in it, in how bright her face looked and how her eyes shone. It almost pierced the carapace of guilt quickly forming over him.

“Why do you want those kinds of stories?” she asked.

The Tinker leaned forward conspiratorially. “A good story is worth its weight in steel. They spark ideas, don’t they?” He tapped his head. “Never know where inspiration will strike. Collecting stories, talking to people from interesting places is all a part of creating. All a part of this puzzle called life we’re tryin’ to piece together.” He rubbed his hands together with anticipation. “Come aboard, come aboard. We’d best be leaving if we want to get ye there in time for the Rumpus.”

Lanar sniffed, wholly unimpressed. He eyed the oddly shaped ship dubiously. “What type of craft is this?”

“Why it’s not a ship, per se. Wait right here, I’ll show ye.”

He disappeared behind the … well, whatever it was and in moments, the metal structure began to creak and groan. Steam billowed from small exhaust pipes along the top of a flat portion, perhaps a roof? And then the whole thing shuddered and began to rise.

And rise.

And rise.

It truly wasn’t a ship, it was … Well, sort of like a mechanical spider. With five legs, and a body that must house the cockpit. Dark glass panels encircled the half-dome center mass. One of the windows slid open and the Tinker leaned out, waving.

“This is Leggsy!” he shouted. “I’ll send the lift down for ye.”

They all stared up at it, Zeli in awe and Lanar in what looked like dread. A smile pulled at Varten’s lips. He didn’t want to smile, he wanted to wallow in guilt and shame, but it came all the same. This was far better than an airship or a train.

A mesh basket descended from the underside of the body, held by thin telescoping metal rods. When it touched the ground, a door on it popped open. Ziggy ran over and jumped into the basket with a gleeful bark.

Zeli looked over at Varten with wide eyes, and he shrugged. “Might as well get in,” he said, moving closer. He led the way with Zeli right behind him and Lanar bringing up the rear.

A wary hesitance flowed from the man like fog, but what other options did they have now? Once they were all on the platform, the basket’s door closed and it began to rise with a subtle shudder. The trip up gave them a terrific view of the air station, the city around them, the river and bay, and beyond. And then they were enclosed in darkness when the platform came to a stop.

Ziggy yipped once, and the lights flickered on. The interior of the … contraption was old, worn, and well patched. Varten had always had an interest in mechanical things and this was the most fascinating machine he’d yet encountered.

They exited the basket into a narrow hallway where his head nearly brushed the ceiling. The smell of oil and warm metal comforted the ragged place inside him. Ziggy led them down the corridor and up a set of ladders—their legs bent in unnatural ways, allowing them to negotiate the rungs—and onto the main bridge. There the Tinker sat in a padded captain’s chair in front of a glowing console.

Varten had learned about seagoing vessels from Ani’s brother, Tai, and of airships from Clove. He recognized some of the controls, though there were many different ones here. Curiosity beat through the haze of guilt. Would the Tinker show him how everything worked?

“Strap in,” the Tinker said, motioning to the jump seats behind him. They folded down from the sides and included safety belts.

Varten belted in next to Zeli, with Lanar across from them. “How fast does this thing go?” he asked.

“Ah, well, fast as a train on flat land. Faster uphill,” he said with a wink and swiveled around to man the controls.

Leggsy shuddered and then began vibrating. The engine was beneath them, Varten felt it spin up. Zigs settled under the console by the Tinker’s feet and appeared to fall asleep, if that was possible for a mechanical dog.

The Tinker spoke into a headset in Yalyish, likely talking to ground control. “We’ve got the go-ahead,” he said over his shoulder. “Hold onto yer teeth!”

Leggsy bounced once and then its long legs began to move. The motion was graceful, the bridge remained surprisingly stable—Varten would love to get a peek at the shock-absorption system. They walked along the city streets, obeying the traffic laws for the most part, even as they towered over all other vehicles.

The roads were clogged at this time of day and it was slow-going, but once they left the busy section of the city behind for a quieter, more residential one, they moved considerably faster.

The Tinker steered Leggsy over the other vehicles. It walked over busy intersections, ignoring the electric semaphores that guided the traffic. “The coppers don’t like it when I do that,” he confided, “but there’s no law against it. Laws don’t take into account vehicles like this. Special dispensation.” He tapped a certificate taped to the wall. Varten couldn’t read it, but it looked official.

And then they were out of the city and in the countryside, and this is when the Tinker abandoned the roads completely and picked up more speed, quickly reaching an all-out run, racing over the fields and over hills. Splashing through streams. Outrunning any wheeled vehicle. He could see how this could be as fast as a train, without needing any tracks.

“You don’t get into trouble for racing over people’s land?” Varten asked.

“For all her weight, Leggsy’s light on her feet. Don’t leave any damage. Some folk don’t like it, but they’d have to catch me to do something about it.” His chuckle was unreserved, and Varten actually cracked a smile.

“We’ll get there by morning. Ye don’t want to miss the opening ceremonies of a Rumpus! No, ye don’t want to miss that at all.”