Page 35 of Still the Sun

I merely hum in response, tightening the nut on the new piece. It’s not until then that I realize the rover is, more or less, finished. I want a shell on it, to protect the mechanics from the elements and provide hooks for more pails, but ... this is it. Just needs wheels.

I sit with the creation, numb, for a long moment.

“Pell?” Arthen prods me with the toe of his boot.

Coming to myself, I shove him away. “I just need wheels.”

He helps me turn the thing over—it’s heavier than it looks—and brings the wheels over, screwing in the one at the front while I do the two in the back. Then, with the tip of a nail, I carve my mark—a rhombus with three lines—on the underside of the frame.

With a grunt, we right it. I grab a banged-up kettle and pour water into the intake at the back. Wind the machine at the bottom, pull a cord to spark the simple engine. The rover shudders, barks, and rolls forward.

“Serpent bite me.” Arthen puts his hands on his hips.

I cry. Almost. Moisture fills my eyes, my throat thickens, my head hurts. But no tears fall. Instead, as the rover picks up speed and exits the forge, I laugh. It hurts to laugh. Chasing after the thing, I stop it before it hits the shop across the road.

We did it. We built it. We made this.

I can do this.

“What in Ruin’s hell is that?” Maglon’s voice rings down the street. He steps out from the alehouse, wiping his hands on a towel. “Is that the ... the thing?”

“The thing,” I manage, clearing my throat and steadying myself. “This is the thing.”

Arthen shows Maglon how to work it while I run to Salki’s house. Casnia is sleeping. She hasn’t left Salki’s side since we brought her back home. She’s not all there, but she’s not irrational. Her disappearance was an emotional outburst that she didn’t understand. Still, Salki moves quickly as I take her to the rover, not wanting to be away long.

Arthen has straightened out the machine and started it up again, so it heads straight down the road. It’s as high as my hip and about a meter wide. Will measure wider, once I complete the shell.

“Wow.” Salki gapes. Reaches out to touch it as it passes by, only to whip her hand away like it will sting her. “It’s really ... moving on its own?” She bends down, trying to see under the carriage.

“With some water and wires.” I beam. I’m tired. Suddenly so very tired, but pride fills my chest, ballooning me up on heavy legs.

More people come out to see it, curious, unconvinced. In a show of bravery, Amlynn sits on the edge of the rover, then shrieks when it carries her off. I built it to hold a lot of weight. It can’t move as fast as a man running, for now, but it can outlast one. Future adjustments and iterations will improve the design.

Mist settles in as we put the rover away, ready for its maiden voyage come first sun.

I accept praise and congratulations humbly, if only because I’m tired, and wend my way home, seeing Salki to hers first. I barely remember to lock the door before I drop on my bed and pass out like I’ve just dug a grave. Which is why, two hours later, I’m reluctant to peel my eyes open when someone knocks on my door.

I know it’s Moseus. How I know, I’m not sure. I haven’t memorized his knock, and he hates leaving the tower. Yet when I open the door, I’m unsurprised. Merely wave him inside.

“I was coming back next mist.” I stifle a yawn with the back of my hand.

“I was concerned.” Moseus looks me over. For injury, maybe. He looks hale, like the first mist we met. He stands straighter. His eyes are brighter, less sunken.

“I still have work here,” I press. “I can’t be at your every beck and call.”

He lifts a fine white eyebrow. “I don’t recall becking, nor calling.”

I smirk, but the half-formed smile swiftly fades. Hugging myself, I peer out the window into the high mist, which obscures nearly everything. “I ... do need to talk to you. Better here than there.”

Moseus folds his arms, his hands disappearing into his black robe. “What is it?”

I gesture to a chair, my eyes straying to the hidden floor panel, then away. “Care to sit?”

“I don’t mean to be away long. You understand.”

Stepping away from door and window, I decide on straightforwardness as the best method. I don’t want to hurt Moseus, but I value truthover his relationship with Heartwood, and I get the sense that he does, too. Still, to be sure, I extend my hand. “May I?”

Confusion limns his brow, but after a moment, he understands and reaches a hand toward mine. His remarkably pale skin contrasts starkly with mine; his walk in the mist has made his touch cold. I expected soft skin and a frail touch, but there’s strength in these fingers, more than meets the eye. Still, I take measure of his knuckles, and I know I’m right.

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