This Golden Flame Read online

  The barkeep comes back with our drinks, as well as a note for Zara, which she quickly hides in her palm. Whatever it says, she looks pleased. At least that makes one of us.

  “Well, well, now. If it isn’t the pirate queen and her little crew of misfits.”

  The tables around us go quiet. I look up and see a man standing there, his face twisted into a drunken sneer. His chiton is stained and dirty and still smells of fish. A dockworker, if I had to guess. Zara’s back is to him and despite the man’s declaration, she simply lifts her drink and takes another swallow.

  Pirate queen. I haven’t heard any of her crew call her that. But looking at her now, sitting there so easily, with a wild glint in her eyes, I can see it.

  Dane moves to get up, but Zara puts her hand on his arm. “Calm down, soldier boy.” She turns, one arm slung over the back of her chair. “You got a problem with me, Lycus?”

  “Yeah, I do actually. Last time you was here, you ran off with my boat hands.”

  Some of the men at a nearby table leer at us, but Zara grins. “Let’s just say Ava and Finn were looking for alternate employment, and I offered it.”

  I frown. Ava and Finn used to live here? In a place like this?

  “You didn’t have no right,” Lycus spits. “I demand you return—”

  Zara stands. The movement is slow, but it reminds me somehow of the snakes I used to see on Tallis, sunning themselves on the rocks. Only slow until they struck. “Ava and Finn are part of my crew. No one touches my crew.”

  Lycus goes for the crude knife hanging from his belt. Zara’s foot whips out, cracking him across the knee. The man hisses as his leg crumples. Before he can catch himself, Zara bashes him in the side of the head with her mug, hard. He falls to the floor, unconscious. The entire fight didn’t last more than a few breaths.

  Zara sighs, wiping flecks of ale off her sleeve. “Waste of a good drink,” she mutters.

  Dane, who’d leaped to his own feet, stares at her. And for the first time since we joined this crew, his contempt slips off his face. In its place is interest I know all too well. I saw it again and again on Tallis, for what seemed like his weekly dalliances.

  I snort into my mug.

  She’s going to eat him alive.

  A man walks up to the counter as the noise in the room returns to normal. He whispers something in the barkeep’s ear and she looks over at Zara, giving a subtle nod.

  “Well, that’s us,” Zara says, her voice low. “Follow me.”

  She leads us, not back to the front door but to one off of the side. It lets out into a small storage cupboard. Shelves line both walls, stocked with dusty old bottles, some filled, some empty, and crates of food that, judging from their smell, are long past their prime. The only other door is at the far end and, from what I can make out through the bent shutter on the window next to it, leads outside. It smells so thickly of dust and decay I can feel it clogging up my throat.

  The shelves only allow a small aisle down the center of the storeroom but it’s currently blocked by a crate. On that crate is the oldest man I’ve ever laid eyes on. He looks Eratian, his white hair so thin it’s barely more than wisps, his hands covered in liver spots. His head is down and I think he must be sleeping but then he looks up at us and the brightness in his eyes defies the rest of his frail, worn body. He wears a chiton and himation, both thick considering the season.

  There’s something I almost recognize about him, a sharp intelligence and quiet pride that I saw in so many on Tallis.

  Zara steps forward and gestures to the man. “Everyone, meet Scriptmaster Leuwin.”

  15

  * * *

  ALIX

  Scripmaster Leuwin. He’s one of them. I stare at Zara. My whole life I’ve been warned to stay away from Scriptmasters. Now she’s led us right to one. “You’ve taken us to a Scriptmaster?” I rasp.

  The man raises a shaking hand. “Please, don’t be afraid. That was in another life, one I do not wish to remember.”

  He looks me up and down and I’m tensing at being studied like that when he murmurs, “Astonishing. Never in my life would I have believed that someone like you would be possible.”

  Someone. Not something, but someone. Surprised, I look deeper into his eyes. There’s a kindness there so like my father a pain lances through my chest.

  The man pulls his himation tighter around his frail body. “Zara’s note said you had something to show me. Some questions you want answering.”

  I nervously finger the edge of my himation. I don’t know if I can trust this man, if it’s naive of me to want to simply because he reminds me of my father. However, the only other option would be to give up, and that I’m not ready for. I step toward him, pushing my sleeve up and revealing the damaged line.

  Master Leuwin reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thin pair of gold spectacles. He settles them on his nose before leaning in. The posture is strangely reminiscent of a bird cocking its head.

  “Fascinating,” he murmurs. “Absolutely fascinating.”

  “Do you know what they are?” I ask.

  He touches a tangle of undamaged runes close to my elbow. “I believe these might be think... Up here, this looks like the sequence for choose.” His fingers trace near my shoulder, where the damage is the worst. “It’s hard to tell with the amount of damage but these... I think they might be remember.”

  Think...choose...remember... Perhaps that means we were right before. “Could those runes... I mean would it be possible for them to form something like a memory?”

  Master Leuwin looks at me, his eyes enlarged by his spectacles. “Where is that question coming from?”

  “My mind must come from somewhere. Much like these runes, my memory’s been damaged.”

  Master Leuwin brushes the lines with his fingers. “These runes are so far beyond anything that’s been studied for centuries I’m not sure anyone alive could find out the answer to that question. It is possible, though. The Script is very powerful, and it’s only made more powerful with Script ink.”

  Script ink.

  Those words bring a faint strand of memory pulsing against my thoughts, the same as when I read about the Automaton Heart. They’re important, only I don’t remember why.

  Karis looks between me and Master Leuwin, confused. “What’s Script ink?”

  “They really don’t teach you much in the Scriptorium, do they?” Zara says.

  A blush touches Karis’s neck.

  “Zara, why don’t you show them?” Master Leuwin says gently. “It may be easier for them to understand that way.”

  Zara fishes a chain out from beneath her tunic. Dangling from its end is a small golden ball, imprinted with runes no larger than a thumbnail. It glows in the dim storeroom like a miniature sun. “This is Script ink.”

  As soon as I see it, I feel that tug in my chest. That’s it. That’s what’s been so familiar to me about Zara. The energy I’ve been feeling didn’t come from her at all. “That necklace. All this time I felt drawn to you and that was why.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” Master Leuwin says. “Script ink is what allowed automatons to be made in the first place. You have some inside of you right now, in your seal.”

  I stare at him. Shards of memory piece back together in my head, jagged fragments of words and lessons from my father. Script ink... I was made with Script ink?

  “Wait,” Dane says. “I thought the runes were what made the automatons.”

  “The runes of the Script do have some power in and of themselves,” Master Leuwin says. “Automatons, though, have always needed something more. Have you never wondered why Eratia was the only country to make automatons?” He looks at Dane and at Karis.

  She shifts uncomfortably. “I guess I just assumed our runes were different here.” She bites her lip. “Stronger here.”

 
I think back to what Wreska had said earlier on the Streak, that Eratian runes were only ever used for one thing. For strength. To build automatons. It’s true. I remember the way my books and scrolls had talked of automatons. They were the pride and joy of Eratia: proof of just how powerful our nation was.

  “Runes are different no matter where you go. I’ve seen places where runes are carved into clay and stone, into wood and metal. I have even heard of a country that uses ice. No matter what a nation’s runes look like, though, or what medium they are carved into, all Scripts all over the world are the same strength. Automatons are the one exception. They are the most powerful weapons to ever come out of Scriptwork, and they have only ever been able to be created here. It’s because of this.” He taps Zara’s pendant. “Script ink connects the runes in the deepest way to the Script. It makes them stronger. It’s why the ink is sometimes called automaton’s blood.”

  I brush aside the wrapped edges of my tunic and touch my seal, ridged and warm and shimmering gold. Looking at it makes me feel as if I can sense the ink humming through my metal body. Is that all my mind is in the end? A by-product of this golden blood? I don’t want to believe that.

  “But at the Scriptorium, they never said...” Karis begins, then stops. “Why haven’t we heard any of this?”

  Zara snorts. “Probably because the Scriptorium doesn’t want anyone to know they don’t have it anymore. As long as people believe that at any moment they could unlock the secrets of the automatons again, they retain at least an echo of their power.”

  “If they don’t have it, who does?” Dane asks.

  “Script ink is everywhere and in everything,” Master Leuwin says. “In the air, the ground, the water. Even in us. All Scriptwork from all cultures rely on it to work their runes. However, it was our ancestors who uncovered the alchemical secrets of refining Script ink, so that it could be used directly, seen and stored.” He cups Zara’s pendant, the glow spreading out over his wrinkled skin. “Refined Script ink is almost like caught sunlight. It disperses if it doesn’t have anything to contain it. Vessels like this pendant were created to hold it. From there, the ink could then be transferred into the seals of tomes and automatons. However, most of the ink has been lost, as have the secrets to refining it. No one has managed to refine more, or to re-create the vessels.”

  “But what happened to all the old Script ink they used to have?” Karis asks. “Surely it didn’t just disappear.”

  “It was destroyed,” Master Leuwin says, “over two hundred years ago. If the stories whispered in the dark are to be believed...” He looks back at me, and somehow I know what he’s about to say even before he says it. “Master Theodis destroyed it.”

  My father. I try to get my thoughts into some coherent shape. “My father. You’re saying that my father...” Another realization hits me like a physical blow: why Zara’s necklace looks so familiar. I reach out to touch it but stop. “That glowing light I remember from before... You don’t think...?”

  “That it was a vessel?” Zara asks. “Yes. That’s why I brought you here, Alix. That’s the mystery I’m trying to solve. This necklace doesn’t have much Script ink inside of it. But if what you described is really a vessel like this one, it’s the largest I have ever heard of. Large enough to contain all the Script ink that would be needed to power every single automaton that still stands. The magistrate would have access to them all. We cannot allow that to happen.”

  Every single automaton. I don’t even want to think about that, of them all becoming animated again and wreaking their destruction once more. My father might have believed that automatons were once built for good, but he was also very clear on what the Scriptorium used them for. I still remember the stories he told of how much the other nations feared and hated us. Of how much they would fear and hate me if they ever saw me. I don’t want to go back to that.

  “You were there, Alix,” Zara says. “You said your father asked you to do something. So maybe one of those runes on your skin will have the answer.”

  I look down at my runes again, curling my hand over their ridges as if I can blot them out. Maybe they do have answers, but I can’t read them anymore. Maybe I never could. Did I used to know this? Did my father ever tell me?

  It’s the first time I’ve ever truly doubted him, and the thought sends waves of guilt crashing through me. If it was important, he would have told me. I know he would have.

  “Alix,” Master Leuwin says quietly. “Do you remember anything else about the light? Anything at all?”

  Already, everything they’re telling me feels too much, as if it’s a weight pressing me down. Only they’re all looking at me, waiting, and this might be my only chance. “I remember running to it with my father and it pulsing in the darkness. I remember it had a surface. I placed my hands on it and its music crashed into my head.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “I remember... I remember it going dark.” My eyes fly open again. “It went dark. That means...”

  I can’t say the words. So, Karis says them for me. “You were the one who destroyed it.”

  My head throbs. Is that what my father wanted me to do, destroy the automaton’s blood so the Scriptorium could never use it again? I think of what we found in the Hall of Records back on Tallis. That record spoke of something called the Automaton Heart, which my father destroyed. Which perhaps I destroyed. Was that the golden light I’m remembering?

  I step toward the man, desperate. “Master Leuwin, please. You need to fix my runes. If you do, maybe I’ll remember everything.”

  He shakes his head, his hands trembling in his lap. “I’m sorry, but I dare not. Even if I had the strength, my mind is not what it used to be, because of the Scriptorium.” A deep pain enters his eyes.

  Zara glances away and I wonder what they did to him. I don’t ask, though. The last thing I’d want is to inflict any more harm on the man.

  “If those runes truly are your memory,” he continues, “there is no telling what the slightest mistake might do to you. I could not risk it. Perhaps you may someday find another Scriptmaster to fix them.”

  I don’t want to wait until someday. I feel so lost without my memories, as if they’re a hole torn out of the center of my life and now all I can do is hover around its edges. I need my memories to tell me who I am.

  Dane straightens, his back tense.

  “Dane?” Karis asks. “What is it?”

  He holds up his hand. Listens. His face darkens. “Soldiers.”

  16

  * * *

  ALIX

  Someone cries out in the distance, a keen of panicked noise. Zara crosses over to the window. “It’s the Scriptorium. They’re searching the houses.”

  Karis pales. “Searching for what?”

  Zara looks around at us, and for the first time since meeting her, worry comes into her eyes. She doesn’t need to say the words; they’re searching for us.

  No, not for us. For me.

  “I’m sorry,” Zara says, clasping Master Leuwin’s hand. “For bringing them here.”

  He shakes his head. “I’ll tell the others. For now, you and your friends must go.”

  “Wait, others?” Karis asks.

  Zara waves her hand. “Later.”

  Karis clamps her lips shut, but she doesn’t look happy about it.

  Zara pulls her dagger from her belt. “Everybody, get ready. The soldiers are creating chaos out there and that’ll give us some cover. Stay quiet and stay together.”

  “Captain,” Dane says. “I should be armed for this.”

  She doesn’t say anything, and he takes a step closer. When he speaks, his voice is softer. “Please, Captain.”

  Zara studies Dane, their eyes speaking a language I don’t understand, then she pulls out a dagger from beneath her shirt. She hands it to him. “Don’t make me regret this.” She draws another one and holds it out to Karis.
<
br />   Karis takes the knife, testing its weight uneasily in her palm.

  Zara looks at me but I shake my head. “I don’t need a knife.” I don’t particularly want something that will let me do more damage.

  “Good luck,” Master Leuwin says.

  Zara nods at him and opens the door. From far off someone screams. I flinch, trying not to let it drag me back to a night two hundred years ago, when the only one running was me.

  Zara hovers in the doorway, watching. “It’s clear.”

  We dart away from the tavern, down one of the side streets. As soon as I’m out I smell the acrid smoke, sharp enough to even cut off the stink from the docks. Ash spirals in the air and everything has taken on a smoky, hazy quality. Fire. I can’t see the flames, but something is burning.

  There are more people out now, frantic and fleeing. Two women dash past us and I don’t see what they’re running from until a door bangs open down the street and four soldiers step out.

  They don’t look like the soldiers I saw on Tallis. Those had red sashes imprinted with the Scriptorium’s sigil of an open book with the knowledge rune floating above it. These soldiers have black sashes, and their sigil has flames licking from the pages of the book, wreathing the rune. One of the soldiers has a torch and he lifts it up to the eaves. Fire catches instantly on the straw, a blast of heat against my metal skin.

  “Back,” Zara hisses.

  We slip down another street, away from the smoke and the screams, even though it feels so wrong to run and to leave these people.

  “Who are those soldiers?” Karis demands, voice low.

  Zara’s mouth is a thin, harsh line. “The magistrate’s personal forces.”

  Karis’s eyes go wide. “What?”

  The magistrate. The most powerful man in the empire. He’s sent his men here.