“That’s the quill gun,” Tinker spoke up as he joined us and admired his own handiwork. “The whisperquill has become quite popular with the Ironshores.”
“This isn’t one of those?” I asked him.
He wrinkled his nose. “No. That’s the usual size. It could blow a hole through anything.”
I recalled the destruction wrought by Jaeger’s aim. “So I’ve seen. What does a whisperquill do?”
“It sticks into a person and burns whatever it’s touching in about a half a foot circle,” he explained as he drew an invisible circle over his leg. “About that size. Leaves the muscles permanently damaged and the pain isn’t much fun, either.”
My face fell. “That’s terrible.”
“That’s why they’re banned from using them in the capital,” he revealed as he held up his gnarled hands. “Otherwise, there’s no telling who or what would catch fire and be burned.”
I nodded at his wounded digits. “Is that what happened to you?”
He flexed his fingers while a solemn expression slipped onto his wrinkled face. “That, and other things. It ain’t easy working with magic that’s explosive. I’m lucky I can still count to ten. Other fellas can’t count at all, seeing as they were killed in explosions.”
“Tinker here is one of the few people left in the capital who still builds magic weapons,” Marc chimed in as he smiled at his old friend. “That’s why the Managers don’t touch him. The Admiralty would have their hides.”
Tinker puffed out his chest and scoffed. “They don’t touch me because they know I’d wipe the floor with them, and then scrape what was left of them off the walls.”
My mind conjured up images of the short fellow blasting everyone away with his vast arsenal, and a smile touched my lips. “I almost wish I could see that, Mr. Tinker.”
His eyes lit up. “Do you? Well, praise from such a pretty woman deserves a reward. I’ll tell you something about Swinger that nobody else knows except the maker.”
My eyes lit up. “What’s that?”
He stepped closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. “The part of the handle just below the blade is weak. The fool weapon smith who crafted it chose a bad piece of wood, and saw too late that there was a break. He didn’t want to be late in delivering it, so he didn’t tell anyone about the problem until after he had handed over the ax and fled his shop.”
“Did they find him?”
“Found him and skewered him alive.”
The color drained from my face. “That’s horrible.”
“And stupid,” Tinker spoke up at normal volume as he drew away. “He was the only one besides me who could’ve built a new ax, but they just had to make an example out of him.”
“Did you know the weapon smith very well?” I asked him.
He nodded. “I did. It was my own brother.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. “I’m so sorry.”
He stretched himself to his full, short height and crossed his arms over his chest. “No need to apologize, miss. He shouldn’t have taken that job from the Managers. Can’t trust ‘em, and they’re more likely as not to kill you to keep you from telling anyone else how you made the weapons.”
Marc stepped up to my side and slipped an arm around my waist. “When we run into them again, we’ll be sure to remind him of your brother.”
Tinker lifted his chin. “I’d be much obliged for that.”
Chapter 32
Doused with new disguises, we slipped out of the weapon shop, but Marc paused on the street and turned to face me. “We have a long day before the concert. What would you like to do?”
I shrugged. “I’m not really sure. What do you want to do?”
He turned his face toward the port. “I’d be happy just standing on the balcony staring out to sea. Or better yet, taking that boat back.”
A thought struck me. “How will the Wraithcourier know we want to go back?”
