Chapter Twenty-Three - Hideaway

I tucked my shit in, cinched my belt, then bounced a few times to make sure my feet were properly wedged into my boots. “Okay,” I said. “Here’s the plan.”

“Can I turn now?” Clin asked.

“Yeah, you go ahead.” Clin turned and eyed me up and down. I wasn’t wearing anything special, just clean pants and a clean shirt. I’d tossed my dirty things into a basket. For a pair of copper the Centre Inn’s cleaning girls would see to it and hand it back folded and pressed in the morning. “I’m gonna escort you over to Rusty. Won’t be any folk out with the storm brewing.”

“It’s not smart to stay out in a storm,” he said.

“It’s not smart to stay in a building with gods know how many pissed off gnomes,” I replied. I was feeling a bit short. “Now, you’ll tuck in for the night in my old mech, and I’m gonna return here.”

“What for?”

“To sleep. I rented the damned room already, I intend to use it,” I said.

Clin’s ears twitched, and his lips moved a bit to form a frown for just a moment before he wiped the expression clean. “Fine,” he said.

“Good. Tomorrow I’m bringing Rusty in for repairs. I think we can hide you away until the gnomes run off. Doubt they’ll be staying here for long. Folk in Mortarview don’t look kindly on strangers.”

“It’s the gnomish military,” he said. “They could have a hundred mechs here in two day’s.”

“And in three day’s time they’d be down a hundred mechs and Mortarview’s scavengers would be crawling over their smoking wreckage,” I said. “The gnomes aren’t fools, I’d hope. They won’t risk messing up relations with an entire city just to get your pretty behind behind bars or on a gallows.”

“Gallows? What do you think I’ve done?” Clin asked.

“You haven’t told me,” I deadpanned. “Come on.”

I stepped out past him while dropping my revolver back in its sheath. The corridor just outside the bathroom was clear. The bulbs in the wall sconces were humming and flickering as the inn weathered the start of the storm.

We passed by a window. Three-panes thick and with a reinforced set of lats on the outside. A glance to the back yard revealed three gnomish mecha parked in a neat row across from the mecha gantries. I suppose one of the advantages of being on the smaller side was the ease of parking in a busy city. “Just three of them,” I said.

Clin bent down and looked. “No, five, see those two.” He pointed, and a few spots next to Rusty were two near-identical mecha. Big, boxy things with two side-mounted guns poking out and a glass-canopied front. “Transports. The gnomes use them to carry troops or supplies around the Shadow Heights and all of their little outpost towns.”

“How many can fit in each?” I asked.

“I have no idea,” Clin said. “They tend to go for a quantity over quality approach for most things. It’s just how they function.”

“So lots,” I said. With a nod, I moved away from the window. “Where’s your hat?”

“You just shot it off my head,” he said. “My ears are still ringing.”

“Hmm,” I said. “If you can still hear me, it’ll pass.” I stopped when I was moving past a door. The rooms here all had numbers stenciled on them. I knew that I had the one down the corridor with the five on it, the key comfortably resting in my duster pocket.

I paused at every door and tried the handle, slowly, not to make too much noise. The third one down wasn’t locked. A peek into the room revealed someone sleeping on the bed by the back. If they could sleep through a storm....

I tapped my pointer finger to my lips, hoped that Clin got the idea, then snuck in. I only moved a couple of steps into the room, grabbing a coat and hat from a rack by the wall.

Moving back with the coat over my arm, I closed the door, then spread the jacket open. It was a nice enough coat. Black leather, with a buckle down the middle. A cattle-rider’s coat, with short lapels and a few sturdy pockets. The hat wasn’t anything special; just a plain round-brimmed hat. “Good enough. Put this on.”

“Again?” Clin asked. “I’m beginning to think you like dressing me up.”

“Just like my dollies back home,” I said as I shoved the coat in his chest.

“I doubt you had dolls,” he said.

I frowned at him. “Why’s that?”

“Well, you’re, well, you,” he said. It wasn’t a stutter, but it was damned close to being one.

“Yeah, and?” I asked. “Just cause of my line of work nowadays I couldn’t appreciate a nice dollie when I was a lass?”

“I... have decided to excuse myself, beg your forgiveness, and extract myself from this line of conversation.”

I snorted. “Good survival instincts for an elf. Now put that damned hat on.”

The hat was a size too big for his little elven head, so it swam on him a bit. Still, it hid his ears some. “Do I look like some uncouth rough-and-tumble herdsman?” he asked.

“No. You look like their teenage kid that grew up all lanky-like,” I said as I nodded to the end of the corridor.

We moved down a flight of stairs, then immediately walked out of the side of the inn. The moment we were outside the wind picked up and shoved up back. I had to lower myself and slap a hand on my head to keep my hat on. I’d left my mask in my room, which was probably a mistake.

The air was filled with sand, sparkling and glinting as it caught on the overhead lights above the inn and across the city. When the wind settled a bit, I shook myself, then glanced over to Clin. The elf had fallen to one knee and was looking a little worse for wear, but his hat had stayed on, at least. “C’mon,” I shouted.

We pushed off towards Rusty, careful steps and long pauses whenever the wind picked up again. I could feel it biting into any part of my skin that was exposed.

The only thing I could think on was that I could have been in my bath still.

Maybe I could have charged Clin a whole lot more for the trouble.

Once we were closer to the mecha gantries the wind got a bit better. It was cut off by the buildings against which the gantired were built, creating a bit of a wind-break.

“This is awful,” Clin said.

“Just wait until the storm starts,” I said.

“This isn’t it?” he asked.

I looked over to him. “What kind of sheltered life have you lead if you’ve never seen a storm?” I asked. “It hasn’t even started raining yet.”

“The storms on the other side of the drywall aren’t nearly this volatile,” Clin said. He coughed a moment later as he swallowed a mouthful of sand and dust.

I grabbed him by the scruff and pulled him after me until both of us were climbing the step hugging Rusty’s side. I grabbed a flask from my belt and shoved it in his hand. “Rinse and spit. Storm sand is glassy.”

The last thing I needed was for the elf to get silicosis. I let him at it while I opened Rusty up and checked within. Nothing seemed out of place. I climbed in, opened a little bow screwed to one wall, and pulled out two lengths of cloth. Just a pair of old bandanas, but they’d do. “Put this on,” I said as I pushed the cloth into Clin’s hand. “There’s water in the flasks, and good rations in that case right there.”

Rusty’s interior started to glow a dull orange, and I paused before unhooking the housing at the back of the cabin over the mecha’s engine. The three fuel containers within were glowing, the finely-ground core-dust sparking and almost breathing as it grew brighter then faded.

“Storm’s closer than I thought,” I said. Clin moved in, then slumped onto the ground at the back. His chin was wet and he looked a bit rough from the sand-blasting. “Right, you sit tight.”

“When will you be back?” he asked.

I paused at the door. Kinda felt bad for him. “I’ll be back in the morning. First thing. Got a few things to do in-town before we run off.”

“Alright, alright,” Clin said. “I... I think I need to sleep a little.”

I patted him on the thigh. “You do that.” climbing back out, I closed Rusty’s door and slipped on my bandana, then, with a hand pressed to my hat, I ran back towards the inn.

The moment I was in, I pressed my back against the door to keep it shut, then panted for a bit until my heart stopped drumming away.

“You have fun out there?”

I blinked and took in Juvenal standing before me with a towel in hand and a knowing grin on. He tossed me the towel. It was damp. “Thanks,” I said as I started to rub my eyes clean of muck. I found a seat by the counter and slouched down on it. “Get me something to eat, Juvenal.”

“Sure thing, love,” he said. “Try to stay inside, alright?”

I nodded and looked back. The room was on the quieter side for the Centre Inn. Some three dozen folk sitting at tables, chatting and pinching the barmaids that were moving around with drinks. Storms tended to calm most people down.

I noticed one man in the corner, his hair rising, his face set in a manic grin, and his eyes glowing faintly.

Most people.

There were gnomes off to one side, maybe two tables of them, all in tight uniforms and with plain water next to their meals. I didn’t stare long.

***