She never mentioned Farris’s input with the beggar’s flame, but no other detail was omitted. Compounds that worked, combinations and quantifications of metals that could be candidates to replace Simian-made steel. One experiment she explained with such enthusiasm, the outcome wasn’t lost on Farris, even though he understood little of the technical jargon.
If only she could be this animated when we’re alone, he thought. Four weeks had gone by since Ruairí passed Farris onto Nicole, but they had spoken little to one another outside of what the job required. He helped with the processes when he could, whenever an extra pair of hands was needed, but the real work, the work she was telling the Silverback about, was all her own.
There’s almost no need for me to be here at all.
Even as Argyll leered on, Nicole’s voice didn’t quiver, and she didn’t sink back into her seat as Garth had.
Perhaps he sees her as an equal. Skies above. Knowing her, it could just as well be the other way around. Her courage was admirable, that couldn’t be denied, but Farris felt a tinge of sorrow as she spoke.
This is all I need. Another reason to be infatuated with her.
That was always the case with him: cursed to be severely attracted to the most strong-willed of Simian women, though they were always the only ones who’d see him as he really was.
“The Reaper project,” said Argyll, suddenly. “How is the progress on that?”
As if the Silverback had just announced he was the Lady Herself, the others jerked in their seats, sitting up to listen with a newfound eagerness.
By Sin’s stones, am I the only one in Penance who doesn’t know what that means?
Nicole’s composure wavered for a moment. Her mouth fell slightly ajar, and she cast her eyes down to the ground. Then she looked over at Garth, and threw him a quick smile so subtle, so secretive, that Farris would have considered himself the luckiest Simian in Alabach had it been shared with him instead.
“It’s nearing completion,” she said, regaining the resilience she had shown earlier. “Once the right material is found, we can start field tests right away.”
“And how long will that be?” asked Argyll, raising his voice. Whatever enthusiasm Garth and Nicole shared seemed to dissipate as soon as the question was asked.
“Soon,” muttered Nicole. “In this moon’s batch of compounds, I’m almost certain that one of them is what we’ve been looking for.”
“That will be all,” said Argyll. He glanced at the others around the table, implying the words were meant for them too. “Continue as you were but remember this. The day we strike back is almost upon us, and we are woefully unprepared as we are. Once the time comes, there’ll be no room for being ‘almost certain.’”
Nicole flinched as Argyll stood. The old Simian moved with more agility than one would have expected from a frame so broad. Nobody else spoke when he left through the front door of the tavern into the storm outside.
“I’ll go fetch Madam Bruna,” said Garth. “She’ll be eager to open her business to the public again.”
“And she’ll open it to me, too,” said Ruairí, clasping his hands together. “I could do with a stiff drink and a loose woman.”
Nicole snorted. “She only caters for Simians where the latter is concerned, you know.”
“Don’t worry,” said Farris. “I’ve seen Humans drink thainol before. After half a glass, I doubt he’ll be able to tell the difference.”
Garth howled with laughter at the jape, while the Human shook his head meekly. But Farris was paying more attention to Nicole’s response. She smiled, as if to herself, but it was every bit as genuine as Garth’s gaudiness.
“Either way,” said Nicole, “I’ll leave you to it. I’ve work to attend to up in the Steamworks.”
“And I need some rest,” said Garth with a stretch. “The beasts of the Glenn know how to sap one’s stamina.”
The two turned to leave. Nicole exited through the front door, and Garth went behind the bar to find Bruna to tell her she could open the doors to customers again. Though, given the state of the weather outside, Farris reckoned it wouldn’t make much of a difference.
Still, the publican emerged, a frilly red gown flowing behind her, followed by two young barmaids dressed simply. One made her way straight towards Ruairí and Farris.
“What’ll it be?” she asked. She was one of the prettier of Bruna’s girls, short for a Simian, but with a full, buxom figure to make up for it.
“None of that Simian stuff,” said Ruairí, reaching for a coin-purse from an inside pocket of his shirt. “A pint of pale will do.”
“And for you?” she asked Farris. He noticed the change in her tone now that she was speaking to a potential client. He glanced at her figure once more.
Her waist is certainly slenderer than Nicole’s….
“The same for me,” he said, shaking his head. The barmaid turned and left without saying more. Over by the bar, Garth appeared to be in a quiet, yet very vigorous debate with the proprietor.
“I knew this day would come,” said Ruairí. “A night on the town with Farris Silvertongue. Are you going to tell me how you got that name?”
“Only if you tell me what you saw in your Seeing of Seletoth.” That quickly wiped the smile from the Human’s face.
The barmaid returned with their drinks, which Farris paid for despite Ruairí having already laid the coins out on the table. Previous experience had dictated that paying for the first round brought more success when it came to extracting information.
“You know what Nicole was talking about, then?” he asked, once the waitress was out of earshot. “Something about a field test?”
“I know enough to know not to share anything,” said Ruairí, putting his pale Human lips to the tankard of ale. “And that’s little enough as it is.”
“But Garth seems to know,” said Farris. He took a gulp of his own. If it wasn’t for all the foam, he could have mistaken it for water. He suppressed a grimace. “Are they working on it together?”
“If you’re sure of that, then you’d know more than I do.”
Never a straight answer. He took another drink. One thing’s for sure. Next round, I’m switching to thainol.
They spoke only of idle goings-on after that. The storm outside grew stronger as the glasses neared empty. Supposedly it was going to last all winter.
“You know what they say,” said Ruairí. “Rain on the first day of winter means no sun ‘til Spring.”
