Perhaps that was the crux of it, the gods did not want their people on Earth rejecting them for machines. Yet, hadn’t she touched other marvels of this time, such as the plumbing and lighting? She’d seen machines, or at least pieces of them, in the professor’s mill, and the ominous mechanicals of the Inspectors. So far she’d experienced no ill effects from them. What was the difference?
Cade settled down beside her with the Cobalt in his lap. She did not look directly at it as he emptied the unused cartridges and began to clean it. “Whatever it is that is causing your, uh, problem,” he said, “maybe it’s for the best. Guns, well, they can cause harm in the wrong hands. Even be turned against the user.” His head was bent down as he worked. “It is also said that guns and machines have hastened the loss of etherea from the world.”
She glanced at her hand. It was now back to its natural color, no blistering, no sign of injury. If what Cade said was true, maybe it was for the best she did not take the knowledge of firearms home. She had the general gist of what they did but not the how. And come to think of it, she did not have the “how” of the plumbing or phosphorene lighting, either. What would happen if she tried to understand how they worked?
As for guns, that knowledge seemed to be particularly forbidden to her since she could barely even look at them. She clenched her hand closed. What would have happened had she held onto the gun and not dropped it? Could she have overcome the will of the gods or would they have destroyed her? She rather thought the latter.
“I must admit I was very sure I knew the way the world worked,” Cade said. He was now oiling the moving parts of the gun, suffusing the air with a heavy, metallic scent. “And then you arrived. I thought there was no place for magic in this world, but how else could someone from the past come to be here? I am learning there is much more to the world than can be plainly seen.”
Karigan knew the truth of that. Hadn’t she seen the ghost of Yates Cardell that very morning? She’d dealt with ghosts since becoming a Rider, but how they existed, why they appeared to her, remained a mystery.
The thud of hooves announced the return of Luke. Gallant and Raven were mildly damp with sweat, revealing they’d had some exercise.
“Heard only one shot,” Luke said, “then nothing. That all you’re doing today?”
Cade placed the Cobalt in its velvet lined box and closed it. “It is.”
Luke hitched the horses to the back of the cart, and the three of them disassembled the target. Cade’s pouch of cartridges, and the box with the Cobalt in it, were concealed in the false bottom of the cart, along with the actual target. Cade slid the cover of the false bottom in place, which was in turn concealed by the bales of hay. Then he pushed aside a variety of digging tools and removed a picnic basket.
“I took the liberty of bringing along a midday meal,” he said.
Karigan, Luke, and Cade lounged on a blanket to eat the simple meal of cold meats, cheese, and bread, and sip cool tea sweetened with honey. They spoke little, and when they finished, Cade collected the remnants into his basket. “I must return to the city.”
When Luke went to the horses, Cade turned to Karigan and said, “The professor told me all about what you did for Arhys this morning. Thank you. She can be trying at times, but she is worth protecting, even if it means protecting her from herself.”
Worth protecting. It was an odd way of putting it. Did Cade see himself primarily as Arhys’ protector? And then it dawned on her: That was precisely what he was.
“You’re her Weapon,” she whispered.
“Apparently not a very good one.”
Karigan was pleased she had guessed right and that he didn’t bother to deny it.
“I wasn’t even there to save her this morning,” Cade continued, “and you have shown me how deficient my fighting skills are.”
“But not with the gun.”
“No, not with the gun.”
And that was the end of their exchange. Cade climbed up into the driver’s seat of the cart and wished them a good day before whistling his mule on. As Karigan watched him guide the cart along the bumpy ground, she thought a child like Arhys needed more than one Weapon to keep an eye on her. Several more.
Luke handed her Raven’s reins. “I think this one is ready for a nice strenuous workout. I’ve but warmed him up.”
Karigan mounted. Riding Raven, truly riding him, was a dream. He was tireless, moving effortlessly between gaits, attentive to her commands. Someone had trained him well before he came into Silk’s hands. They ran up and down the mounds as once she had done with Condor, Raven as smooth as a sloop cutting through calm waters. For a while she forgot about being in a different time, and the oddness of not being able to look at a gun, much less handle it.
Though Raven showed no signs of tiring, she slowed him to a walk and joined Luke and Gallant near where they’d picnicked.
“Looks like you’re getting some good paces out of him,” Luke said.
“He’s wonderful.”
“Well, sorry to say, but we best head back.”
Karigan wondered if Raven detected her disappointment because he pulled on the reins and turned as if he wanted to run up and over the nearest mound. She corrected him. “Sorry, boy, but we’ll do this again.”
“Of course you will,” Luke said cheerfully, “but it wouldn’t do to keep Miss Goodgrave out all day. Her absence might become too noticeable.”