The tune was haunting and lovely, and it struck Ironfoot that what he was strolling through was not simply a project, not merely a research site. It was a massive graveyard, a charnel house of unprecedented proportions. Those white bits of debris scattered among the torn-up cobblestones were not pebbles-they were fragments of bone.
He left Armin with one of the students who had a question about an anomalous reading and continued walking, careful not to tread on anything other than dirt.
Ironfoot was a scholar, but he had at one time been a soldier as well, and these echoes of violence stirred thoughts of revenge and aggression that he liked to believe belonged to his younger self. The drive to win that had never quite left him. And there was no good that could come of thinking about that.
So he pushed it away, all of it. There was work to be done, and he had no time for his old regrets.
When Ironfoot returned to his tent an hour later, there was a middle-aged nobleman waiting for him, holding a cloth over his face against the smell. Armin was nervously preparing tea over the small camp stove.
'A Lord Everess to see you, Master Falores,' said Armin.
Everess bowed slightly toward Ironfoot. 'A pleasure to meet you, Falores. A genuine pleasure.'
He wasn't the first noble to come sniffing around the site. Most wanted a tour of the wreckage and a brief talk with Ironfoot regarding his theories about the weapon. Some of them appeared to have genuine concerns about the Einswrath weapon, though some others seemed to have come out of nothing more than ghoulish curiosity. He couldn't tell from looking at him which one Everess was.
'The pleasure is mine, Lord Everess,' said Ironfoot, with the requisite deeper bow. 'How can I be of service?'
Everess smiled. 'Ah,' he said. 'That's the question, isn't it?'
'It's certainly the one I just asked,' said Ironfoot.
'A scholar, and a wit as well.' Everess smiled. If he was insulted by Ironfoot's somewhat insolent comment, it didn't show. 'I can see that you're a busy man, so I'll be as direct as possible. Come walk with me, won't you?' He picked up a walking stick that had been leaning against his leg and pointed outside.
Ironfoot took Everess through the camp to the edge of the crater, and waved him forward. 'This is the best place to go down,' he said.
'Oh, I don't need to go down there,' said Everess. 'I've been here once before, the week after it happened. Once was enough for me, I can assure you.'
Ironfoot was stymied. 'Sorry, Lord Everess, but if you're not here to tour the site, what is it you're here for?'
'You,' said Everess. 'I'm here about you, Master Falores.'
'Please, call me Ironfoot, sir. Most everyone does.'
'Indeed,' said Everess. 'Well, where can we walk where it doesn't smell like a tannery and we may speak in private?'
'In the mornings the wind comes from the north; it smells nice down by the river.'
'Lead the way,' said Everess. 'Ironfoot.'
They walked down the path toward the river, to the spot where the team did their laundry. The river snaked around the wreckage of the city to the north, and Ironfoot headed in that direction.
'You're a very interesting fellow, you know,' said Everess. 'A study in contradiction, as they say.'
'Thank you, sir,' said Ironfoot. 'I like to think myself unique.'
'A shepherd's son from a tiny village who managed to parlay a single tour in the Gnomic War into an admission to Queensbridge. And now here you are years later, a respected thaumaturge, and a tenured professor at the most prestigious university in all of Faerie. That's beyond interesting. That's damnably impressive.'
'Thank you,' said Ironfoot. 'Though fortune played a large part in it.'
'Fortune only takes one so far,' said Everess. 'You've got a fine mind and you're a fine soldier.'
'I don't mean to be critical, sir, but I'm well aware of who I am and what I've done. May I ask what it is you're leading up to?'
Everess laughed, a barking noise that made Ironfoot uncomfortable. Ironfoot smiled in return.
