Chapter 65: Machines and Runes

The days continued in much the same way.

Frost woke early, trained until his body ached, ate enough to make up for the effort, and spent whatever time he could studying before going to sleep and repeating the whole thing the following morning.

There wasn’t much variety, but he wasn’t complaining.

His body was improving, the script was gradually becoming easier to understand, and he no longer had to wonder whether he would earn enough to eat the next day.

Compared to his life in the slums, having a predictable schedule was hardly something to be upset about.

It also helped that he had people to speak to now. Soren and Talia usually ate with him, and although Ava remained difficult to deal with, she continued answering his questions whenever her duties allowed it.

Frost had learned to arrive with his notes organised and his questions prepared, which seemed to make her considerably less inclined to question whether he had a brain.

One afternoon, while returning to his room after training, he noticed something unusual.

A door that had remained firmly closed every time he passed it was standing wide open.

Frost slowed, glancing through the gap. He could see the edge of a table, a few metal containers, and something hanging from the ceiling that looked rather like an unfinished mechanical arm. A faint rattling sound came from farther inside, followed by a sharp clank.

He looked down the corridor. No one else was around.

He knew perfectly well that being curious wasn’t the same as being allowed inside, but he only intended to have a quick look. After spending so long walking past closed doors, it was difficult to resist one that had finally been left open.

Frost stepped through.

Something metallic clicked beside him.

Before he could turn, a narrow arm shot out, caught the front of his shirt, and hauled him off balance.

Frost barely managed a startled sound before a second grip closed around his ankle. His feet left the floor, the room spun, and a moment later, he was hanging upside down.

"What the fuck!?"

His shirt fell towards his face as he twisted, trying to understand what had grabbed him.

It was a can.

A large, upright metal can with a cylindrical body, two arms, and a pair of tiny legs that looked entirely inadequate for holding up its weight. Two mechanical eyes regarded him from its upper half, their lenses moving around with a quiet whirr.

"What are you doing here, intruder?" it demanded in a mechanical voice. "This area is restricted."

Frost stared at it, his thoughts briefly failing him.

"Um... I got lost?"

The machine’s eyes gleamed.

"Initiating purge protocol."

"Wait, what?"

The arm holding his ankle lifted him higher, leaving his hands scrabbling uselessly towards the floor. Its other arm turned towards his face, several metal sections sliding apart to reveal a dark opening.

A red triagram flickered into existence before it.

Light gathered within the opening, accompanied by a rising hum.

"No, no, no! Hold on! I live here!"

The light grew brighter.

Frost began flailing in earnest, swinging his free leg while trying to pull himself towards the arm restraining him. His fingers caught smooth metal and slipped away, and the machine adjusted its grip as easily as though he weighed nothing.

"Someone help! This fucking can is going to kill me!"

"Put him down, Deadlock."

The hoarse female voice came from somewhere beyond the tables.

The rising hum stopped. Red light faded from the machine’s arm, and the triagram dissolved, leaving Frost hanging there with his heart hammering so hard that he could feel it in his throat.

He let out a shaky breath.

"Oh, thank—"

The grip around his ankle opened.

Frost hit the floor in a painful tangle of limbs, his backside taking enough of the impact to send a sharp ache up his spine.

For a moment, he could only lie there. Then he rolled onto his side with a groan, pushed himself up, and reached behind him.

"My ass," he muttered, rubbing it gingerly. "What the hell did my ass do to deserve that?"

"You entered a restricted area."

Frost looked up.

A young woman stood between two crowded worktables, holding a small metal tool in one hand.

Her hair had been cut into a messy bob, its colour in two fading tones of brown and purple that blended together, with several strands sticking out as though she had been running her fingers through it for hours.

Dark bags sat beneath her eyes, and her lab coat was stained in enough places that its original colour was becoming a matter of guesswork.

Still, if he ignored the general appearance of someone who hadn’t slept properly in a week, she was rather cute.

"Uh, hello," Frost said, raising a hand awkwardly.

She frowned at him.

"What are you doing here?"

"The door was open," he explained, glancing towards it. "I got curious."

"So you didn’t get lost."

Frost looked at the machine beside him, which was still watching with its mechanical eyes.

"I was trying not to get purged."

The woman grunted, accepting that explanation, then turned back towards the table.

"Well, if you’re done looking, you can leave."

Frost should probably have taken the opportunity. His heart was still beating too quickly, his backside hurt, and Deadlock didn’t look particularly disappointed that it had almost killed someone. However, now that he was standing properly, he could see more of the room.

It was a mess.

Tables and raised platforms filled most of the available space, their surfaces buried beneath metal components, tools, sheets of notes, and objects whose purposes he couldn’t begin to guess.

Several hollow casings lay beneath a bench, while coils of wire hung from hooks along the wall. There were glass containers, stacked metal plates, and a wheeled frame with half its outer covering missing.

Some of it looked like useless junk. Other parts were recognisable enough to make him look twice.

"What is this place?" he asked.

The woman paused, then looked back at him.

"Master Goldwyn’s workshop."

"Who?"

She stared.

"Do you know anything?"

Frost sighed inwardly. He had found another one, it seemed.

"Not as much as I’d like."

"Master Goldwyn," she repeated, as though saying the name more clearly might solve the problem. "A genius. One of the best rune artificers you’ll find anywhere near Linden. People call him a mad scientist, though most of them aren’t qualified to understand what he’s doing in the first place."

There was unmistakable pride in her voice, though her expression soured almost immediately.

"He’s also a bastard who thinks his apprentices can work forever without sleeping."

Frost glanced at the bags beneath her eyes.

That explained a few things.

"You’re his apprentice?"

"One of them." She set the tool down and stretched her fingers, wincing slightly. "Unfortunately."

Frost looked around again, his attention lingering on the unfinished arm hanging above a workbench.

She followed his gaze.

"Oh, fine. I’m feeling generous, and I need a break before I start throwing things. Come on. You can have a look."

Frost glanced towards Deadlock.

"Is it going to try to kill me again?"

"Not unless I tell it to."

He wasn’t entirely reassured.

"I’m Frost, by the way."

"Yasmine," she replied, already walking towards the nearest table. "Don’t touch anything."

He followed carefully, keeping his hands close to his sides.

Up close, the clutter became a little easier to make sense of. What he had taken for random scraps included unfinished fittings, small joints, and sections of metal covered in inscriptions.

A long, narrow object resting on a stand resembled the body of a rifle, though there was no obvious place for ammunition.

"What exactly do you make here?"

"All sorts of things," Yasmine said. "Weapons, equipment, vehicles. Most of what our field agents need that they can’t simply buy."

She lifted a small metal housing from the table, turning it to reveal several carefully fitted plates inside. Fine inscriptions ran along their surfaces, disappearing beneath the edges where the pieces joined.

Frost leaned closer.

"Wait. You make all this using runes?"

Yasmine gave him an odd look.

"Yes?"

He looked from the housing to the unfinished arm, then towards the wheeled frame.

"And the vehicles?"

"Yes."

"The machines too?"

She glanced at Deadlock, then back at him.

"What did you think they used?"

Frost opened his mouth, then closed it. He hadn’t thought about it.

He had spent so long associating runes with evolvers, beasts, and the ability to kill things that he had somehow failed to consider the obvious.

He had seen information plates, strange equipment, and vehicles unlike anything on Earth, yet he had treated them as separate wonders instead of asking what made them work.

Did that mean the things he had seen in Linden, the vehicles moving through its streets, the equipment in its shops, even parts of its towering structures, had been made with runes?

His mind began racing at the implications.