"Fine," he said, and smiled at her. Offered her his elbow. "May I have the honor of escorting you to lunch, desert flower?"
"That," Dario said, "is not fair."
Khalila slipped her arm into Jess's. "The honor is mine, dear thief. But only because you didn't actually have to steal."
As they walked away, Dario followed and muttered, "I didn't steal anything, either, you know."
"I know," Khalila said. "And now you won't."
"Is it finished?"
Glain leaned over Thomas's shoulder to stare at the small, elegant-looking weapon that lay on the workbench, under the merciless glare of a light almost as bright as the sun. Jess stared, too. He'd been watching the thing come together for three days now, piece by carefully crafted piece. Thomas had cut the three stones into shapes his mother would never have recognized-taking away any flaws, he'd told Jess, who'd winced at seeing so much smashed away-and built the rest of it around those three focal points.
The casing was made of walnut and brass, and now that it was all completed, the weapon looked to Jess's eyes much like a country squire's version of a High Garda rifle. It was a bit longer and thinner, and altogether simpler. There was a sight, and a trigger to pull, and a small knob to adjust. That was all.
It wasn't the same as what Thomas had built in Philadelphia, but there were undeniable similarities to it. And refinements. This had the fatal elegance of one of the Library's automata.
"Yes, it's done," Thomas said, and took off the magnifying spectacles he'd been wearing. He put them on the trestle table, stood up, and stretched. "Just now done."
"You haven't tested it yet?" Glain asked, looking the thing over. He shook his head. "Want to do it now?" Thomas gave her a strange smile and quirked his shoulders, and she smiled in return. "You're afraid it won't work."
"It will work."
"I'd rather not stake my life, no matter how bright you are, you great cabbage. We're not playing games anymore, you know."
Something dark flitted through Thomas's eyes as he cut them toward the Welsh girl. "I should know if anyone does," he said. "Step back, please. I don't like to be crowded."
Glain did, immediately. A generous step, at that. "We still should test it," she said. "Jess? Don't you agree? An untested weapon is no kind of weapon at all."
"May we not take a moment to admire what it is that he's done?" Khalila stood on the other side of the table, and the light's glow made her look almost ethereally lovely as she raised her gaze to fix it on Thomas. "It's an amazing attempt, whatever happens. I don't think anyone else on earth could have built the earlier version in Philadelphia. And this . . . it's beautiful in itself."
"It's not a work of art," Glain said. "And even if it was, I'd still insist on seeing what it does."
"Same," Dario nodded. "How do we know how to use it if we don't know what it can do?"
///
"Morgan?" Thomas asked. Morgan sat on a chair a little apart from them, staring not at Thomas's invention but at her clasped hands. "You seem very quiet."
"It seems like a deadly thing," she said. "The one you made in Philadelphia, you made to set us free. This one . . . I think you made it for another purpose. Don't we have enough things meant to kill?"
Maybe no one else heard it, but Jess did: a broken emptiness in the words, a haunted quality that made him want to hold her in his arms.
"Jess?"
Now Thomas was calling his name, which he'd been dreading, because it meant he had to agree with Glain and Dario. "I'd rather never see it used," he said. "But . . . it's true, we should know."
"And if the stones inside fail and shatter, and we've wasted the chance?" Thomas asked. "What then?"
"My mother has other jewels." Jess managed a grin. "You don't keep me around for my wit and charm. I'll find you what you need, when you need it. Count on it."
"How . . . noisy is this likely to be?" Dario asked. "Given we're in the middle of an armed encampment."
"The peacock has a point," Glain said. "But still. You know my vote."
"If it works, there shouldn't be any sound at all," said Wolfe. He and Santi stood a little apart, together. Santi looked fascinated, and quite like he was itching to pick the thing up. "Light doesn't make sound."
Thomas put his hand on the stock of the weapon that lay on the table. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then picked it up. It looked small in his grasp, and then he held it out to Jess with an abrupt move. "You do it," he said. "I don't think I can bear it if it breaks. Dial it to the lowest setting, aim, and fire. Keep the trigger down as long as you want the beam to burn, yes? Simple. If it works."