This is going to be harder than I thought. Her hand kept straying toward the hilt of her haken. How much trouble would I be in if I lit him on fire just a little?
*
The quartermasters’ office and storerooms were on one of the lower levels of the Forge, along with the archive and various libraries. A vast central rotunda covered in a checkerboard pattern of tables served as a working space. Like the rest of the Forge, it was much larger than it needed to be, and the few lonely arcanists and servants reading or copying out of tomes were separated by acres of empty seats.
Maya spotted Varo and Beq, sitting together at a table, with a map and sheets of foolscap spread in front of them. She threaded her way to them, doing her best not to show her nerves. She’d never been down here before, and the vast, chilly space had a forbidding air.
“Ah. It’s Varo, right?” she said. “And Bequaria?”
“Agathios,” Varo said, inclining his head.
Beq frowned at her, touching the dials on her golden spectacles. Lenses shifted, magnifying her eyes. “Agathios,” she said after a moment.
There was a long pause.
“Did you require something?” Varo said. His voice was cold.
“I …” Maya looked down at the table and felt a spike of stubborn pride. “No, I’m sure you’re busy. Carry on.”
Varo immediately turned and started peering at the map. Beq watched Maya for a few moments longer, then turned away as well, shaking her head.
What did I plaguing do to them? First Tanax, and now these two. This is not going to be a pleasant expedition. Maya turned, spotted the sign for the quartermasters’ office, and stalked across the marble. I just need a few bits of camping gear. It can’t be that difficult.
Five minutes later, she was back, all thoughts of pride forgotten.
“Scout-Trainee Varo?”
He looked up, eyes narrowed, voice polite. “Yes, Agathios?”
Maya heaved a sigh. “Please help me. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Varo glanced at Beq, and conflicting expressions flitted across his face. Finally he gestured at an empty chair. “Have a seat.”
Maya shuffled gratefully around the table. She set down the catalog the bored clerk at the quartermasters’ office had handed her, an enormous tome considerably thicker than the Inheritance. At the sight of it, Varo laughed out loud.
“Glad to see they’re giving you the full treatment,” he said. “At least some of the old traditions of the Order are being kept up.”
Maya glared at the huge book. “This is someone’s idea of a joke?”
“More like a ritual,” Varo said.
“I’ve never heard of it,” Beq said. “Let me see.”
Beq swiveled the book to face her, flipped it open, and twisted a dial on the side of her spectacles, which made something inside the lenses shift. The page was covered from edge to edge in tiny, neat writing, and she leaned forward to read. As she did so, she reached up automatically to brush back a coil of green hair that had escaped from her braid, tucking it behind her ear. Something about the motion, the perfect curve of the neck thus exposed, did strange things to Maya’s guts. She felt as though her internal organs were jostling for position.
This is ridiculous, she admonished herself. You’re going to be a centarch, for the Chosen’s sake. Have a little self-control.
“Sorry,” Maya said, aware that Beq had been talking but not of what she’d said. “What was that?”
Beq looked up, her eyes huge beneath her spectacles. “I said it’s just lists of junk. Listen to this. ‘One spherical device, approx. one meter cubed, for the control of flame in piping, nonfunctional. One ovoid device, approx. thirty-five meters cubed, for the purification of water, working order.’” She flipped a page. “‘Devices of unknown purpose, cubical, of less than one meter cubed, separated by provenance.’” She frowned and flipped again. “‘Three suits of armor, of the Gevaudan pattern, badly damaged.’ That’s dated two hundred years ago!”
“You know how big this place is,” Varo said. “The storehouses go on forever, so the quartermasters never throw anything away. Every piece of scrap that’s ever come into the Forge is still in there, somewhere, just in case someone needs it. When someone asks for the full catalog, they take them literally.”
“That doesn’t seem the most helpful way to behave,” Maya said.
“Even quartermasters need laughs, I suppose.” Varo shrugged. “If you needed help, why didn’t you ask Tanax?”
Maya pulled a face. “Tanax doesn’t seem inclined to offer much assistance. Or to talk to me at all, for that matter.”
“Oh?” Beq closed the book and dialed her spectacles back. “I thought it was just me.”
“He gave me the brush-off, too,” Varo said. “But that’s centarchs. Not much time for the rest of us.”
“Really?” Maya frowned. “I’ve never worked with any support staff.”
“Never?” Varo raised an eyebrow. “Is this your first time doing this kind of work?”
“Not exactly,” Maya said. “But it’s always just been me and my master and her other agathios. We never spent much time at the Forge.”
“That explains why you’re so friendly,” Beq said with a grin. “I didn’t think that centarchs were allowed.”
Maya smiled back as her heart double-thumped. Varo cleared his throat.
“This will be Beq’s first time in the field,” he said, “so I was going over her equipment list with her. Would you like me to draw up something basic for you?”
“Please,” Maya said. “I throw myself on your mercy.”
Varo smiled a little at that and started pointing at the map and scribbling with a pencil. His efficiency was impressive, as he quickly figured the distance from Litnin to the nearest Gate along the most suitable route and converted that into a list of supplies, including a substantial safety margin. It made Maya uncomfortably aware how much of the basics Jaedia had always handled—their lessons had focused on deiat, not how to find water that was safe to drink.
“You’ve been out quite a bit, then,” Maya said.
“More’s the pity,” Varo said, looking down at his list and frowning. “That’s the scout’s life, I suppose.”
“Better than being stuck in a damp basement fixing old blasters,” Beq said. “I’ve been looking forward to this for ages.”
“Travel isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Varo said, still working. “It’s mostly bad food, no sleep, and getting rained on. And you usually catch something right when it’s least convenient.” He perked up a little. “Sometimes there’s a good laugh, though. A friend of mine once used a Red Spider bush to wipe himself after a shit, and watching him try to walk the next day had all of us giggling. Of course, my other friend laughed a little too hard, so the first fellow found another Red Spider and stuffed it into his jock while he was sleeping—”
“Is that why you said Tanax would regret having you on the team?” Maya said. “Because you shove Red Spider bushes in people’s underwear?”