Chapter 31
We fetched our coats and sprinkled some disguise juice on ourselves, and trudged along the winding streets to one of the many small shops nestled between two houses. The abode was nondescript, with only a little sign above the plain door announcing the proprietor: Tinker. Master of Metals.
A smaller print underneath the title made me pause and stand on my tiptoes. “What does it say below the master part?”
Marc grinned. “All payments up front, or I have the right to shoot you.”
My jaw dropped open. “That’s really what it says?”
“In clear letters,” he confirmed as he opened the door.
The shop was small, perhaps fifteen feet square, and was lined with well-dusted wooden shelves.
Some of them were even covered by sliding glass windows.
All of them were filled nearly to the brim with every kind of weapon I could think of, and many I’d never seen before.
There were pistols, knives, daggers, axes, rapiers, and many more small arms. The halberds and spears were standing in a barrel in the left corner.
Shields, breastplates, and helmets hung from the ceiling, almost low enough to brush against the top of Marc’s head.
The air was filled with the scent of leather, metal, and the oils that kept them clean.
The back of the room had a small door and a long workbench.
A short man with graying hair sat on the stool, hunched over the work table with his hands busying away at his project.
His hands were covered in thick brown gloves, but he still worked the tiny tool with precision born from many years of practice.
He didn’t look up as the bell above the front door announced our entrance. “I’m too busy. Go away.”
Marc’s eye glowed, and his disguise dropped away. “Too busy to talk to an old friend?”
The man on the stool spun around and revealed a man well past seventy, with fine wrinkles on his face.
He had a pair of bright blue eyes that were hidden behind thick spectacles, and those were hidden behind an even smaller pair of glasses perched on the very tip of his nose.
His eyes lit up, and the magnification of his double pair made his orbs look huge.
“Marc!”
He removed the more precarious pair of glasses, placing them on the table before he slid off his stool and strode over to us with arms wide open.
“It’s been ages! You look like you haven’t aged a day!”
“And you look like you’ve aged a century,” Marc teased as he clapped his hands around one offered by the man.
The proprietor grinned. “That’s alright. The ladies like the grizzled look. Says it makes me look distinguished.” His attention fell on me. “Speaking of them, who do we have here?”
“Give me a glass of water, and I’ll properly introduce her to you,” Marc requested.
“How about I just do this?” I suggested as I puckered my lips together.
A melodic whistle came from my mouth and floated around the room. The metal vibrated, and the leather straps flipped about. My disguise also collapsed.
Marc’s old friend lifted an eyebrow. “That’s quite an interesting whistle you have there, miss.”
“You should hear her sing,” Marc suggested as he used a hand to gesture at each of us. “Tinker, may I introduce you to Miss Rose Larkin. Rose, this is the Tinker.”
I held out my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He chuckled and raised his hand even with his head so the palm faced me. “We had better skip the formal greeting.”
I could see why. His glove was torn to bits, and the gashes revealed a hand coated in scabs, sores, and old wounds that had poorly healed, leading to bump flesh.
“Still trying to get as much time out of those leather gloves as you can?” Marc teased.
Tinker tilted his head down and looked at Marc over the top of his spectacles. “I would have better luck with my gloves if you would give me some of that hide of yours.”
“I’m still using it, but I’ll trade some coin for some information.”
Tinker lifted an eyebrow. “What sort of info?”
“We ran into a Manager with a large mallet that’s capable of smashing magic. Could you give us any idea how we can handle him?”
The more Marc explained the weapon, the darker the cloud on Tinker’s brow. “You’re talking about Swinger, aren’t ya?”
“We’ve heard that was his name. He isn’t much to look at.”
Tinker’s eyebrows shot up. “You saw him?”
“Unfortunately,” Marc admitted as he folded his arms over his chest. “That’s why we wanted to know as much about that weapon as we could, and about the other two with him.”
The weapon master wrinkled his nose. “Those three are nothing but trouble in a business with nothing but trouble. I didn’t make any of their weapons, but I can tell you their leader doesn’t need anything but a dagger and that wind magic of his. Swinger has his mallet, and the third one, Tick-”
“Leech,” I corrected him.
“The bug uses leeches and some sharp needles to drain the blood out of his victims. It’s always slow and painful, or so I’ve heard.” He held out his hand. “Time to pay up.”
“You haven’t told us how to defeat them,” Marc pointed out, though he drew out his coin pouch.
Tinker held out his hand. “Stay out of reach of Swinger and dodge Leech and the other guy’s daggers. That’ll be ten silver coins.”
Marc lifted an eyebrow. “That’s a lot for some information.”
“You’re asking for information about the Managers. I’m risking my neck telling you what I know.”
“You’re already on their death list. What do you care about another line?”
“I care about enjoying life before my name’s crossed out, now pay up.”
While they bickered, I strolled over to one of the nearby shelves. A variety of guns lay on the wood, and one of them looked suspiciously familiar.
I turned to the pair. Marc was counting out the coins, and Tinker was repeating the process with every coin in his open palm. I caught Marc’s eye as he finished, and I pointed at the weapon. “Isn’t this what Jaeger had?”
Marc strolled over and studied the weapon. “It does look like it.”
“That’s the quill gun,” Tinker spoke up as he joined us and admired his own handiwork. “The whisperquill has become quite popular with the Ironshores.”
“This isn’t one of those?” I asked him.
He wrinkled his nose. “No. That’s the usual size. It could blow a hole through anything.”
I recalled the destruction wrought by Jaeger’s aim. “So I’ve seen. What does a whisperquill do?”
“It sticks into a person and burns whatever it’s touching in about a half a foot circle,” he explained as he drew an invisible circle over his leg. “About that size. Leaves the muscles permanently damaged and the pain isn’t much fun, either.”
My face fell. “That’s terrible.”
“That’s why they’re banned from using them in the capital,” he revealed as he held up his gnarled hands. “Otherwise, there’s no telling who or what would catch fire and be burned.”
I nodded at his wounded digits. “Is that what happened to you?”
He flexed his fingers while a solemn expression slipped onto his wrinkled face. “That, and other things. It ain’t easy working with magic that’s explosive. I’m lucky I can still count to ten. Other fellas can’t count at all, seeing as they were killed in explosions.”
“Tinker here is one of the few people left in the capital who still builds magic weapons,” Marc chimed in as he smiled at his old friend. “That’s why the Managers don’t touch him. The Admiralty would have their hides.”
Tinker puffed out his chest and scoffed. “They don’t touch me because they know I’d wipe the floor with them, and then scrape what was left of them off the walls.”
My mind conjured up images of the short fellow blasting everyone away with his vast arsenal, and a smile touched my lips. “I almost wish I could see that, Mr. Tinker.”
His eyes lit up. “Do you? Well, praise from such a pretty woman deserves a reward. I’ll tell you something about Swinger that nobody else knows except the maker.”
My eyes lit up. “What’s that?”
He stepped closer and lowered his voice to a whisper.
“The part of the handle just below the blade is weak. The fool weapon smith who crafted it chose a bad piece of wood, and saw too late that there was a break. He didn’t want to be late in delivering it, so he didn’t tell anyone about the problem until after he had handed over the ax and fled his shop. ”
“Did they find him?”
“Found him and skewered him alive.”
The color drained from my face. “That’s horrible.”
“And stupid,” Tinker spoke up at normal volume as he drew away. “He was the only one besides me who could’ve built a new ax, but they just had to make an example out of him.”
“Did you know the weapon smith very well?” I asked him.
He nodded. “I did. It was my own brother.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. “I’m so sorry.”
He stretched himself to his full, short height and crossed his arms over his chest. “No need to apologize, miss. He shouldn’t have taken that job from the Managers. Can’t trust ‘em, and they’re more likely as not to kill you to keep you from telling anyone else how you made the weapons.”
Marc stepped up to my side and slipped an arm around my waist. “When we run into them again, we’ll be sure to remind him of your brother.”
Tinker lifted his chin. “I’d be much obliged for that.”