They were a three-hour drive from Cosian, less than that between two desert towns, following a route Emmitt and Caris had argued over for the past two days. Hydromapping was something their company did several times a year. It enabled them to find the best places to put their filtration machines in the rivers and streams that ran down from the mountains and pooled in the arid province.
Living in the rain shadow of the Eastern Spine meant water was a precious resource everyone had learned to ration through their lifetime. Living out here in the borderlands of Ashion gave a person grit Portia hadn’t found in almost anyone back in Amari.
The Eastern Spine wasn’t cleansed land, and Portia doubted it would ever become so. The wardens kept the borders up to the base of the mountains and did not venture into the peaks and valleys that separated Ashion from E’ridia. That meant the poison inherent in the land there filtered and flowed into the Eastern Basin—as did the revenants.
Water was routinely contaminated and required filtration for use. Poisonous mists saturated with spores had been known to wipe out desert towns and turn their inhabitants into revenants. It was why every person was issued a gas mask and carried it on their person wherever they went.
It was also very useful when her daughter was behind the steering wheel and persisted in kicking up dust with the speed she drove at.
Emmitt was in charge of navigating them to this stretch of land populated with twisted trees and low-growing shrubs. The sun overhead was bright and hot, and Portia was looking forward to washing off the grime once they made it back home.
“There’s the field marker up ahead,” Emmitt shouted, pointing over the front seat.
Portia squinted through her goggles at the metal post with its curious-looking top rising from the ground some distance away. The field marker had been placed years back by the wardens to help monitor the poison level in the area.
Six Point Mechanics Company had gotten permission from the wardens to piggyback some of their own devices off the field marker for data collection. It helped them extrapolate on what to expect in the rivers and aquifers so they could recut clarion crystal as needed and adjust their filtration machines accordingly.
They’d had better results once Caris started cutting clarion crystal. She’d always said the crystals sang to her, and that was a secret Portia had struggled to get her daughter to keep when she was a child. Caris was better at keeping her magic under control now, even if Portia knew she hated to bottle it up. She’d gone unnoticed in Amari, though Portia hadn’t felt relief until they’d made it back to Cosian some weeks ago.
Caris braked to a stop near the field marker and turned off the engine. She opened her door and slid out, the coveralls she wore a match for Portia’s. “Can I take off my gas mask now?”
Emmitt shoved open his door and stepped out of the motor carriage, staring down at the handheld device he used to check the air for poison levels and spores. Portia slid out after her husband only to stand on the foot ledge to get at the travel trunks they’d strapped down to the hard roof. The other motor carriages finally reached them and parked nearby, the workers spilling out.
Emmitt finally nodded. “Levels are within normal range.”
Portia didn’t remove her gas mask until she had the ropes undone, allowing access to the travel trunks. A hand settled on her waist before she could climb up farther, and she glanced down into her husband’s face.
“Let the boys get those,” Emmitt said, eyes narrowed against the midday sunlight.
Portia gladly switched spots with one of their workers so she could remove her gas mask. The first breath of fresh air was nice, despite the heat. She pulled a kerchief from her pocket and wiped away the sweat beading on her forehead, taking in the area.
The mountains rose high in the distance, with snow on some of the highest peaks even during summer. Everywhere closest to them were shades of brown and tan, with hints of dark green amongst the plants that thrived in the arid environment.
Caris was already at the data-collecting device, satchel left on the ground, notepad and fountain pen in hand to jot down measurements recorded over the last month. One of the engineers hauled a folding table over to set up a makeshift work area. Caris looked happier here than she had back in Amari save for her time spent at the Aether School of Engineering.
“What do you think of the duchess’ offer?” Portia asked when it was just herself and her husband standing by the vehicles.
Emmitt raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “I think to deny Caris an education would be cruel. You know how she was as a child. We couldn’t keep her out of the laboratories.”
“But we could keep her here.”
Portia ached with the thought of their only child living far from the safety of their home. That she would be the ward of the highest-ranked noble bloodline in the country couldn’t outweigh a mother’s concern.
Caris was theirs and had been ever since the night a star god had placed her in their care.
The memory of that moment was thin and fuzzy, like a dream half remembered, but Portia knew the truth, old and aching as it was. Portia had long since buried her grief for the child she’d borne and lost to a star god’s decree, choosing to love Caris as her own—and Cariswashers. No one else had fed her, had rocked her to sleep, had watched her grow from a child to a fiercely intelligent young woman primed to shepherd their bloodline’s company into the future.
Primed for more, if the magic she stifled was anything to go by.
Even in Cosian, even this far east from the border that divided Ashion from Daijal, it was impossible to escape the reach of the Daijal court. Everyone knew King Bernard had orchestrated the horror that was the Inferno even if the courts couldn’t prove it. Everyone knew the Ashion parliament was now a puppet system of government slowly having its strings restrung.
The Clockwork Brigade that Portia and Emmitt aided as cogs had yet to draw Caris in. If she went to Amari, if she found herself under the duchess’ tutelage and care, Portia wasn’t sure they could keep Caris safe. But to keep her here would be to watch her wither to a shadow of what she could be. That, in itself, was a painful sort of prison.
Emmitt tipped his head in Portia’s direction. “I would like to think the duchess would keep Caris safe. The duchess’ loyalty lies with Ashion, not Daijal.”
It had been a shock to realize Meleri was Fulcrum, head of the Clockwork Brigade and the keeper of all manner of secrets. Portia and Emmitt had secretly provided tools and resettlement guidance for escaped debt slaves under the supervision of other cogs for many years. They’d kept Caris ignorant of that area of their work because they hadn’t wanted to burden her as a child.
Portia sighed. “I worry.”
