Maybe he could ask Rye about Gale once things between them mended, and showing he’d come up with a good solution was the first step.
He clutched his design and left to find Rye.
The boat room was empty, so Tahki tried his bedroom, but there was no answer when he knocked. Tahki bit his lip. Maybe Rye had gone to Edgewater to stay the night.
He jogged to the stables to see if all gingoats were accounted for. The morning air felt brisk against the bare skin of his arms. His boots sloshed through the puddles from the storm. The air smelled rich with rain, and he filled his lungs. The reflective sun off the pale ground hurt his eyes, so he shielded them from the rays with his papers and stepped under the slanted wooden roof of the stable.
He found Rye beside a gingoat, brushing her fur with a comb. Even before Rye looked up, Tahki felt an awkward air shift between them.
He didn’t have friends back home. Sornjia did, but not him. He played with the daughters and sons of visiting diplomats and joined the empress’s daughter for a swim in the oasis on occasion, but he hadn’t felt connected to them. He hadn’t been able to talk to them the way he talked to Rye. But Rye clearly had his own problems to sort through and needed space, so it would be best to keep things professional for now.
“I think I have something,” Tahki said. “A design idea.”
Rye glanced at the papers. For a moment, Tahki thought he might not take them, but he set the brush aside and tugged them free. Then he stepped from the stables into the light and examined the paper.
Thirty seconds passed. A minute. Two minutes. Rye held the designs high toward the castle, as though to overlay the pencil marks with the real thing. Finally, he folded the paper and turned to Tahki. Tahki wished he was better at reading faces, because a complicated emotion seemed to fill Rye.
“How did you….” Rye ran a free hand through his messy hair. “What makes you think this would work?” The words didn’t sound harsh but inquisitive. Cautious.
“I read about the steam locomotive last night after—” Tahki paused. “Well, the idea came to me last night. I saw the locomotive at the fair, and after reading about the explosion, I realized steam power might be the answer. If we could convert it into a conduit system, we could turn the entire interior of the castle into a power source. I want to use pipes to funnel steam, but not bamboo pipes. Copper pipes. By forcing steam into a series of metal pipes, we’d be able to bring energy to any part of the castle.”
Rye pinched his brow. “A steam conduit.”
Tahki nodded. “The center, here, is the power source. The castle will become a mechanism that could do anything from launch projectiles to send concentrated steam jets across enemy lines. With the river below us, we have an endless supply of energy.”
“We’d use a firebox to fuel the distillation,” Rye said. His eyes grew wide with excitement.
Tahki swallowed. “So, is it good? Will it work?”
One of the gingoats snorted and swished her tail. Tahki reached up and scratched behind her ear. She didn’t try to bite him this time but instead leaned into his touch.
Rye rubbed his jaw. “It’s good. It’s really, really good. I’ve never….”
Tahki couldn’t repress his smile, or the wobbly feeling in his knees, or the way the skin on the top of his scalp tingled. But he’d be foolish to get too excited. Dyraien still needed to approve it.
“Dyraien is leaving for Edgewater soon,” Rye said. “We need to show him this now.”
Tahki nodded, and together they walked back to the castle in silence.
They found Dyraien in his mother’s room. Rye told Tahki to wait outside while he went in to fetch him. A strange wail sounded beyond the door. A mix between the wind inside a tunnel and the yowls of a cat. He shivered.
When they emerged, Dyraien grabbed the design with both hands. He mulled over it, his eyes darting quickly from corner to corner. Tahki held his breath. Dyraien looked to Rye, a little wide-eyed, like he was afraid to question it. Rye nodded slightly, and relief flooded Dyraien’s face. He turned and yanked Tahki forward by the shoulders, drawing him in for a firm embrace.
“This is brilliant,” he whispered. “You are brilliant.”
When he pulled away, Tahki was left flushed. After weeks of doubting his skills as an architect, he’d proved himself.
Yet as Dyraien started babbling about logistics, Tahki couldn’t help but wonder what the design would really be used for. Sornjia said Dyraien was dangerous, and Tahki had just handed him a powerful weapon. What if they somehow used it to attack another country? What if that country was Dhaulen’aii? But all Dyraien had ever talked about was how he loved his people, how he wanted to protect them. The castle wasn’t designed to attack; it was designed to defend.
“You know,” Dyraien said. “I almost doubted you. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I thought you’d lied to me last night when you said you had an idea. But now I see I was a fool to doubt you. I can’t tell you how proud I am of you, Tahki.”
Tahki smiled, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the design Dyraien held. Now that he’d earned his praise and the initial excitement had worn off, an unwanted feeling of doubt settled over him.
“But we can’t celebrate just yet,” Dyraien said. “I will write up the order list and send a message to the capital to have the parts forged. In three days, I want you two to travel to Edgewater to see the delivery is complete and up to our standards. Understand?” Tahki and Rye nodded. Dyraien smiled at both of them, a childlike giddiness on
