Rebel Skyforce (Mad Tinker Chronicles) Read Free Page A

whim.
    Near the center of the factory floor was an eye in the storm of flying metal. Desks and drafting tables clustered together with kuduk mechanics and tinkers toiling away. At the very center was a singular kuduk who looked up in calm anticipation at Kezudkan’s arrival.
    This kuduk stood to greet him, and Kezudkan got his first look at the “gear-made man.” Ganrin Draksgollow stepped around his desk with one leg nothing more than a contraption of piston rods, gears, and springs from just above the knee. Kezudkan considered the troubles he’d had with his own joints and wondered which of them was the worse off. When Draksgollow held out a hand, it was of similar construction, with fine-made brightsteel fingers and sinewy cables threaded through. Kezudkan took the hand gingerly, knowing that the rock-like darru flesh of his own hand was liable to crush the delicate mechanism.
    “Please to make your—oof, quite a grip you’ve got there, Mr. Draksgollow.”
    “Good of you to come, Mr. Graniteson,” Draksgollow replied, a hint of a smile on his face. He was clean-shaven, which was unusual for kuduks, who regarded a lack of facial hair as a human look. Kezudkan suspected the reason when he noticed the irregular pattern of stubble—old burn wounds, he guessed. What marvelous stories the tinker must have had, to warrant such an array of injuries. Decorum alone prevented Kezudkan from asking.
    “I hope my message was not too vague. I had no intention of misleading you—I just don’t have any great faith in the vaunted discretion of the cable tappers.”
    Draksgollow shook his head. “Me neither. Bunch of gossiping whoresons, the lot of them. If we come to an arrangement, I’ll give you a code book that I use for my business dealings.”
    Kezudkan raised a hairless brow. “Do all your clients have this code?”
    “I have them printed up in pairs. I’ll just mark your name on my copy.”
    “And the printer? What’s to say he can’t keep a spare copy?”
    Draksgollow stared hard a moment. If he meant to cow Kezudkan, he’d need a better glare, for Kezudkan had been glared at quite professionally of late, and by kuduks better inclined to back up those glares. Draksgollow turned slightly and hollered over his shoulder. “Kep, get over here.”
    A moment later a mechanic arrived, hands stained black with ink, not grease as Kezudkan was tempted to believe at first glance. “Boss?”
    “You make more than two of any of my code books?”
    “Slugs, no! Who’s sayin’ I have? This old fossil?” Kep said.
    “Mind your tongue, Kep, this is a new client—maybe. He’s just being cautious. You can get back to work.”
    Kep had a better glare than Draksgollow, by Kezudkan’s estimation, and used it on the daruu as he departed.
    “Satisfied? Have a seat then.”
    Draksgollow gestured to a steel stool across the desk from him as he resumed his seat. Kezudkan eyed it with skepticism. Few kuduks took proper account of just how much a typical daruu weighed. Though already wider than kuduks by half a measure, their rocky compositions made daruu a good deal denser. Finally deciding that Draksgollow didn’t look like the sort who took half measures in his tinkering, he settled his bulk onto the stool, gasping as the pressure was relieved from his old bones.
    “So tell me a bit about this place? Why above ground for one? What experience do you have with complicated systems? Have you done work with runes? You must have had skeptics among your clients before; win me over,” Kezudkan said.
    “I’ve worked with daruu before, and you’re a bit of a clean pump, aren’t you?” Draksgollow said. Kezudkan smirked. “Most of them would have bored me halfway to madness with their lineage and titles by now—”
    “Oh, if you’d like, I could—”
    Draksgollow held up a hand—the fleshy one. “No, no. I’m not complaining. To answer your questions, we built topside for the light. My machines guzzle spark like a human