Chapter 23
“What do you mean you’ll need faerie dust?” asks the Nomad, still propped with his back up against the worktable.
“I mean I’ll need faerie dust to heal her wings,” says Lars.
I shake my head, reaching for my quill and notepad, but then a voice from behind us beats me to what I was going to say. “I thought faerie dust couldn’t be used on winged faeries. That their systems metabolize it too quickly.”
The Nomad and I turn around to find not only Phoenix, but also Venus and Acel standing in the doorway.
“How long have you been standing there?” asks the Nomad.
“Since before I came back in the room,” says Lars. “I thought you knew they had entered.”
I refuse to look at the Nomad, though I can feel his gaze boring into my skull, both of us wondering whether they witnessed our conversation on the floor as I patched up the his hands. I stand, instinctively wiping his blood off of my hands, though I realize I already did that.
Venus gives me a “we caught you” kind of look.
“That’s true for unrefined faerie dust,” says Lars, unaware of the silent conversation going on in the room.
“Wouldn’t refined faerie dust metabolize even quicker?” asks the Nomad.
“Yes, but…” Lars thinks to himself for a moment.
“During the refining process, the element itself becomes easier to bind. I’ve been studying insects for a long time, and there is a certain insect whose biological makeup can slow metabolism.
I’m thinking if I extract that insect’s blood and bind it to the faerie dust, as well as the faerie’s blood—”
“Her name is Tink,” says the Nomad, but Lars continues without hearing him.
“—then I should be able to create a compound that will allow her wings to heal.”
“Well, that should be easy,” says Venus, “since we have a faerie dust supplier right there.”
The Nomad flinches even harder than I do. “I’m sure we can locate additional stores that will make that unnecessary.”
“Why?” says Venus. “She’s right here. Why go out of our way?”
The Nomad doesn’t have to answer because Lars waves Venus off.
“Injecting her with her own faerie dust would do no good,” he says, as if she’s stupid for even suggesting it.
“We need to instigate an immune response to encourage her body to heal, meaning her body needs to recognize the faerie dust as a foreign substance. It’ll have to be sourced from a different faerie. ”
I can’t scribble quickly enough. We’re not bloodletting someone else.
“That won’t be necessary,” says the Nomad. “There’s plenty of unrefined faerie dust out there in the world already.”
“Sure, dust that’s heavily guarded by the Company,” Phoenix says. “You might be the single richest man in the world, but you forget how many resources the Company has.”
“I don’t forget much,” says the Nomad. Phoenix sneers at him, but the Nomad continues, “And if you doubt our ability to steal from the Company, I wonder how you expect us to steal from a Fate.”
Phoenix glares at him, but she must not have an argument against that, because she remains quiet.
Not to be pessimistic, I write, but how are we going to steal from the Company? Phoenix isn’t wrong. Their factories are practically impenetrable.
“I never said we were going to rob one of their factories,” says the Nomad.
“Well, that is where faerie dust is made and stored,” says Venus.
“Yes,” says the Nomad, drawing out the word, “but not where it’s used. You’re all forgetting something. In order to get into the consumer’s hand, in order to power the lights in the kingdom’s great city, what has to happen?” He directs the question toward Phoenix.
“It has to be transported,” she says.
“Exactly.”
From the corner, Acel, who up to this point hasn’t contributed at all to this conversation, lets out a deep chuckle. “You mean we’re going to rob a train?”
“That, my friend,” says the Nomad, “is exactly what I mean.”
“Impossible,” says Acel. “Her Majesty has frequent dealings with the Company. I’ve sat in on plenty of their negotiations. These trains are guarded more heavily than the factories are, and their guards are licensed to use lethal force.”
“Yes, thanks to your dear queen’s orders,” says the Nomad, to which Acel bristles. “Oh, please,” the Nomad continues. “If you want her to be your mother-in-law, you’re going to have to get used to disliking some of the things she does.”
“This is rather beside the point, don’t you think?” says Lars. “Please do explain exactly how you intend to rob the most heavily guarded resource of our day and age.”
“Well,” says the Nomad, “normally I would agree with you all, that it’s impossible. However, due to current events, we have something working in our favor.”
“I’m listening,” says Phoenix, sounding more like she’s listening for something to argue with.
“You see, one of the cargo train’s tracks was damaged in a fire a month ago,” says the Nomad. “The repairs still aren’t finished.”
“That’s so,” Acel interrupts. “There’s been a faerie dust shortage because people can’t get their supplies. This has been brought to the queen’s attention. The lords and city officials are concerned that they’ll be out of faerie dust by the month’s end.”
“Exactly,” says the Nomad, “which is putting pressure on the Company and the kingdoms’ governments to make sure the faerie dust gets transported somehow. They’ve tried hastening the repairs, but it’s simply too big of a job. I have heard, from an inside source—”
“I’d love to hear who these sources are,” says Acel, crossing his arms.
The Nomad continues as if he didn’t hear him. “—that the Company plans to distribute the faerie dust via a cargo train that typically transports food items and less valuable resources.”
“How does that help?” asks Venus. “Surely the Company will still guard the train tracks just as heavily.”
“There’s no way we’ll be able to get anywhere close to them,” agrees Acel.
“Not by foot,” says the Nomad. “By train.”
“We just said we can’t get on the train,” says Venus.
He doesn’t mean that train, I write, staring at the Nomad. The way he grins at me, one would think he’s been hoping I’ll figure out his plan.
“Correct. We’ll be taking a passenger train. Would you like to know why?” The Nomad pauses, and I have a feeling it’s simply for the effect of aggravating the rest of us. It must work, because Venus taps her fingernails against the table.
“Oh, come now, don’t leave us in suspense,” says Phoenix.
“This cargo train that will be transporting the faerie dust,” says the Nomad, “will be—”
He stops as I write on my notepad, and I try not to be too pleased that he waits for me. Let me guess. It passes directly under the tracks of the passenger train.
“So you’ve done some train jumping, I surmise,” he says.
“You want us to jump from one moving train to another?” asks Phoenix.
“You should be the one least worried about it,” says the Nomad with a grin.
Phoenix goes immediately tense. “You know I have no desire to use that power.”
“Well, desire and necessity aren’t exactly the same thing, are they?” says the Nomad.
“I wouldn’t be worried about the jumping, if I were you,” says Acel. “There’s no way the Company would agree to a route that involved crossing paths with another train.”
“Oh, I have no doubt in my mind that it will not be their intention that the trains cross the overpass at the same time,” says the Nomad. “But things do happen.”
You mean, you happen, I write.
The Nomad’s smile is a bit too smug for my liking, and I suddenly have the urge to scratch out what I’ve written.
“How many train-robbings have you executed?” asks Acel, in a tone that suggests he’s still considering whether or not to hightail it back to his queen and reveal the Nomad’s location and plans.
“Let’s just say the number is greater than your chances with the princess,” says the Nomad.
Acel glares, but the Nomad turns to me and whispers, “You should have poisoned the queen’s cup.”