Chapter 15: Chapter 15: The Plan

“What do you mean we aren’t going to meet them?”

“Will, Melody was taken, and Jack is missing. Someone has to look for them.” Eelock said. It was the same calm, exacting tone Will knew from the Mathews. He wasn’t going to win the argument. Still, he had to try.

“They have to cross the Pits. Do you know how dangerous that is? What if they get hurt?”

Eelock placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Dai is with her, and Mic can help. They’ll be fine.”

Will resisted the urge to rub at the circles under his eyes. They’ll be fine. They were the same words echoing through his head all night. He was tired. He was worried.

“What if I went? Just me. You two could start the search, and we could all meet in town.”

Eelock gave a soft squeeze before letting his hand drop. “I know you want to help Chleo, but we can’t do anything for her now. We need a guide for town, someone who won’t look suspicious asking about Jack. Help us find her dad.”

Will took a measured breath. Eelock was right. There wasn’t anything he could do at the Pits. He just wanted to see Chleo, make sure she was alright. He swallowed his emotion and made the logical choice… like he was taught.

“Fine.”

They ditched the wagon. The large D.I.M. stamp on the side was too conspicuous on the main road. They settled in for a long walk.

It was entirely uneventful. As they walked toward the river road the haze cleared, and the sun poked out over the trees. If not for the dire circumstances, Will would have enjoyed it. Instead, it kept reminding him of a time better left forgotten.

He was smaller, lankier, and running for his life. His heart had raced faster than his feet could fall. He’d sprinted through Main City, his speed and endurance waining as he’d passed farther from the palace gates, the chase that had pulled him from his bed in the middle of the night devolving into a game of cat and mouse.

He’d snuck from one alley to the next, cursing himself for shedding his clothes in the palace. It seemed like the best idea at the time. They were too noticeable. If he’d kept them, he certainly would have gotten caught. As he scuttled behind crates in nothing but his briefs and boots, he began regretting his decision.

It was still late, and there weren’t many townies out in the residential areas. As he entered the northern district that changed. The luxury pitched roofs flattened to match the surrounding warehouses. Steam stacks sprouted from the tops giving the area its own cloud system. A constant drizzle followed him as pedestrians began filling the streets. The rest of the city may sleep in the dark, but the north did business.

He thanked the Star no one recognized him. They were too far separated. Even the Palace Guard didn’t look twice as he slipped through the city’s gates.

By the time he reached the river road, he was exhausted. Adrenaline could only take him so far. Light began to peak over the trees as he found himself on the front end of a new day. He couldn’t believe a day, a moment, was all it took to change his life. At the time, he’d thought it was ruined.

As Will walked with the hooded strangers, he recognized the spot where his luck had turned. He could almost hear the roar of the wagon behind him again, the whirs and bubbles too loud for a commoner’s. He stared at the shrubs he’d thrown himself into, a desperate attempt to avoid the Guard.

It was the turning point. He’d chosen to abandon the road and risk the forest. It had led him in circles, then toward the pond… toward Chleo.

Shaking himself from the memories, Will focused on the strangers and their plan. Mr. Mathews needed help. The Scorp coin weighed heavily in his pocket. Eelock was right. There wasn’t anything he could do for Chleo, but he could help find her dad.

“Eelock,” he said, catching the hooded man’s attention. “Do you recognize this?” He pulled the coin from his pocket.

Eelock took it. Flipping it from one side to the other, he examined the mark. “Society of the Scorpion,” he said in a closed voice. “Where did you get this?”

Will fidgeted under his stare.

“The Shack,” he said. “Right before the agents came.”

Eelock closed his fingers around the coin making a fist. “I see.”

Tension coiled in the man’s arms, he shared a look with Merk.

“We’ll start with the metalsmith, then.” The other man nodded.

“The Putters?” Will asked. “No, I mean, they’re a rude bunch, sure, but they wouldn’t be mixed up with the Society.”

“And who exactly do you think would be?” Merk asked.

Will opened his mouth to answer, but drew a blank. He didn’t want to imagine anyone he knew being that hateful. He sighed, pressing his lips together.

Eelock nodded, shooting him an understanding look.

“Sometimes in the night we close our eyes to avoid fearing the dark.” He raised a hand to shield the sun, sweeping his gaze across Ol’ Man Jimmy’s apple trees. “We head to the metalsmith first. Will, try to think of anyone who begins their conversations with a slur and is quick to anger. We’ll visit them next.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence. The first scattering of houses appeared, the road becoming congested with carts heading to market. They wove their way through the crowd. Merk purchased balls of sweet bread from vendors for their breakfast.

Will savored the treat. Normally, he only got one on his birthday when Chleo could spare the coin. It was their tradition. She would buy it as his present, he would break it in half, and they would share it on the way to market, watching street performers and dreaming up their own acts.

Too early for performers, the road filled to a stop as merchants battled for position. The air was crisp with oil and steam. The yelled insults and vague sales pitches buzzed too loud, making talking impossible. Will tugged on Merk’s sleeve, motioning toward a side alley. The giant of a man nodded and passed the message to Eelock. They followed.

The noise muted as they traveled farther into town, twisting back and forth to avoid main pathways. Turning a final corner, Will led them to the rear of the metalsmith’s shop. Molten Makers was proudly stamped on the door, the calligraphy, Will knew from years of passing it, matching the storefront.

Will stepped forward to knock when a familiar voice drifted through the crack. His eyes widened in surprise.

“Did you see they’re closed today?” the person asked. “Mr. Winters must be beside himself with happiness.”

“I don’t know,” Mr. Putter replied as he banged on a piece of metal. “He looked to be more worried than anything. He’s one of those, you know.”

Will pulled back and motioned the others to a small ventilation window to the side. Smoke from the hearth clouded their view, but they could see well enough. A young man, only a few years older than Will, stood near the anvil shaking his head as the metalsmith pounded a piece of steel into submission.

“It’s a shame. How can good men like Mr. Winters fall for relo-rat schemes?” The young man started to pace. “And Mister Jimmy, you know he interrupted my plan yesterday?”

“You mentioned,” the smith replied, swinging his hammer again. “I wouldn’t worry, Eddie. I hear they had some concerned visitors last night.”

He smiled, showing too many teeth. Dropping his hammer, he drove the steel back under the coals. A puff of smoke billowed through the window as Will and the other’s ducked out of view.

“Boy,” the metalsmith hollered.

Will peeked back up in time to see Putter rush into the room.

“Boy, have we heard anything from Agent Miles?” he asked. The taxman paused to hear the answer.

Putter looked nervous. “No, Father, not yet.”

Eddie’s shoulders fell. He started pacing again. The metalsmith slapped a hand against the anvil, a sharp ring echoing through the vent. “We need the girl,” he growled. Will flinched. Chleo. “The relo-rat’s surprisingly resilient. He won’t talk unless we have his daughter.”

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“What about the wife?” Eddie asked as he bit a nail. Putter stood, trying to shrink into a corner.

“Not an option. Associates are… handling her.” Merk pressed a fist against the wall. His muscles bulged. Will felt Eelock’s hand on his shoulder, eyes glued to the scene. He wasn’t sure if it was to comfort or restrain him.

“Boy, send a messenger to Miles. Tell him if he doesn’t have the girl in tow by mid-day his dues will double next month.”

“Yes, Father.” Putter fled the room.

The metalsmith sighed. “Worthless boy,” he muttered under his breath, then louder to his companion, “Can’t even hold a hammer right. I have to send him on women’s errands.”

Eddie let out a chuckle before his teeth met his nail again.

“How did Melody keep her head here and not beat down every one of these Umbra soaked idiots,” Merk mumbled at Will's side.

Eelock hummed in agreement.

“The relo hasn’t said anything?” Eddie asked from inside the building.

“Nothing,” the smith confirmed. “All night in the machine and still nothing. The rat’s tough.”

Putter rushed back in the room. “Father, a visitor was waiting for you-”

A figure entered before he could finish.

“Mister Putter,” he said, dragging the words, “surely a man of your… stature.” He rubbed a finger across a nearby work station, frowning at the dust. He lifted his hand and rubbed the dirt between his fingers. “Would know better than to keep an associate waiting.”

The newcomer glared at the metalsmith through dark lashes. His gait screamed danger, each step light, every movement gaged ready to spring. A black coat sat on confident shoulders made from the same material Merk and Eelock favored. The man wasn’t from Luna. Eelock’s hand tightened on Will’s shoulder.

“Boy,” the smith hissed, “come here.”

“Bu-“

“Boy,” Putter’s father repeated.

He stumbled over to stand by the anvil. Eddie stopped pacing. He stood to the side chewing his nail.

The metalsmith removed his steel from the coals and placed it on the anvil.  “What happens when a metalsmith makes a mistake?” the man asked his son.

Putter’s lip trembled as he flinched away from the metal. “Father, I’m sorr-“

“What happens when a metalsmith makes a mistake?” he interrupted, glaring at his son.

Putter struggled, breathing through the fear splattered across his face. “They burn,” he whispered.

“Touch it.”

Will froze. What?

“What kind of messed up place is this?” Merk said.

Eelock shot him a look, tilting his head toward the vent they were using to watch, the vent that did nothing to stop a voice from being heard inside. Merk felt silent.

Will couldn’t help but agree. It was messed up, so completely, utterly messed up. He watched, holding his breath as the boy whose mission in life was to make Chleo cry reached out and lay a finger on the glowing metal, and felt sorry for him. It was a new feeling, a feeling he never wanted to experience again.

Putter let out a cry and pulled it away, cradling his hand to his chest.

“Now, get,” the metalsmith cuffed him on the back of the head. “Go help your mother. It’s all you’re good for.”

The man ground his teeth as he watched his son stumble from the room.

“Terribly sorry about that,” he said to the newcomer, stabbing the steel back under the coals.

The man in black looked on indifferent. “We’ve heard from your agent. He’s tracked the girl and an interloper to the Steam Pits. I assume you’ll keep us apprised?”

Mr. Putter made a valiant attempt not to glare. “I suppose you learned of this through your… methods?”

“Naturally.”

The metalsmith and taxman sneered.

“Of course, you’ll receive full reports,” Mr. Putter’s voice bordered on civil.

The man in black nodded dismissing the conversation. “The interloper is of no consequence to us. Do with her as you wish as long as you produce the girl. I hear you have promising experiments involving… her kind.” He turned to leave.

The other men’s eyes widened. Their ire turned to glee.

“Remember,” he said from the doorway, “ours is a mutual arrangement. Provide for us, and we will provide for you.” He left.

Will felt cold. Smith Putter, the most lucrative metalsmith in the village, was a Society member. There was no denying it. Even the Patrol didn’t use family members to get information. Only one group took relos in the night if they didn’t kill them outright, and they had Mr. Mathews. They knew where Chleo was. If she and Dai survived the Pits, Scorps would be waiting on the other side. Will wasn’t sure which was worse.

“We have to get to the Pits,” he whispered to Eelock. Will watched as he and Merk shared a look over his head.

“No, Dai and Mic can handle one agent. We stick to the plan.” Eelock turned back to the vent. “The younger one is a messenger. They’ll send him to inform the others. We’ll follow and use him to find where they’re holding Jack.”

Will wanted to protest. He wanted to storm off, find Chleo, and end the day at the Mathews’ dinner table discussing new inventions or Mrs. Mathews’ Timekeeper projects.

He didn’t. Eelock was right. They had a chance to find Mr. Mathews and should take it.

Will settled back with the others and waited for the taxman to leave.

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