Ember flamethrower's Arc

Chapter 5 of 7

By midday they had crossed the canal. Lewis walked half a step behind Ember, the reader bag tight under his arm. The street the old man named ended at a tall crystal wall. Behind the wall stood a small house with faceted walls and a peaked roof that threw stabs of light into the road. Two men in dark coats stood at the gate. A third walked the wall. Ember crouched behind a low hedge and counted them again. She had a name now. She needed a face, or a paper, or anything Lewis could feed the reader. She could not get any of those from across the street. "We can't walk up," Lewis whispered. "They'd grab us before the gate." Ember scanned the wall for a gap. There was none. The house sat alone on cleared ground. No alley, no cart, no crate to hide behind. She had pictured a window she could climb. There was no window low enough. She sat back on her heels. "Then we don't walk up," she said. "We watch. We wait for someone to come out carrying something." Lewis nodded, but his eyes kept sliding past her shoulder. "Ember." He pointed. Across the road, a stand of tall crystal shards rose from a patch of weeds, pink and blue and green, taller than a man. A black crow sat on the tallest shard. It was looking at them. Not past them. At them. Ember's stomach dropped. She grabbed Lewis's sleeve and pulled him back along the hedge. They ran two streets before she let him stop. A man stepped out of a doorway in front of them. Purple cloak, black gloves, a wand in his right hand. The crow landed on his shoulder. "Sedrick Great," he said. "My bird has watched you three days. You are walking into a house that will kill you both. Sit down." Ember reached for a blade. A second voice cut in behind her. "Don't." An old man in a leather apron stood in an open shop door, gray hair spiked up, goggles shoved on his forehead. "Grit Thornwick. I build things. That house has a guard on every wall and a dog you can't see. You go in like this, you don't come out. Inside. Both of you. Now." Ember looked at Lewis. Lewis looked at the gate two streets back. They went inside. Grit's shop smelled of oil and burnt metal. Half a flying machine filled the back wall, propellers strapped to a frame, scorch marks along the floor. Grit shut the door and slid a bolt. Sedrick set the crow on a bench. "You wanted the man in that house," Sedrick said. "So do I. Different reasons. Same door." "I help you reach him," Grit said. "You help me finish that machine. Fair trade." Ember sat on a crate. She had failed to get near the house. She had been seen. But she was not grabbed, and she was not alone. She nodded once. Lewis set the reader on the bench. The deal was made.