Free Call of Brindelier (Keepers of the Wellsprings Book 3) by Missy Sheldrake

gone.
    “You’re making progress,” his amused voice echoes around me. “Have you thought of how you’ll be getting it out of here?”
    “I have to find a new place,” I say. “Soon. I’ll carry it up in pieces to wherever. I think I found a spot. An old stable out of business.”
    “Rather out in the open, wouldn’t that be?” Valenor asks.
    “I’m going to have to show it to people eventually,” I shrug.
    “Why not ask the Princess for a place to work? Certainly she’d provide,” his voice is far away and back again. Dreamy. Unreal. His shadows creep around my work, inspecting.
    “If I asked Margy,” I say as I work a screw through the wood, “then there’d be paperwork and contracts and check-ins by men who’d think they could do a better job than me. I don’t need the headache. And I don’t want help. I want to do it on my own.”
    “There’s always…” he starts, but I shake my head.
    “Thanks, but you know I don’t want to build it in the Dreaming,” I say. “I want to do it without magic. Make sure it really works without help.”
    “Very well,” Valenor sighs. “What you’ve already done is extraordinary, Tib. What is this?” His cloak flicks at a thick pile of waxed silk.
    “Air bladder,” I reply. Squat back on my heels. Shake out my arm, sore from twisting screws.
    “Air bladder, hm. So it would go above?”
    “No, below. This long one goes below. One on both side. Then it gets pumped up through here, through sealed holes in the bulwark. Five men, five pumps. That blows up. Lifts the ship up above. See? Meanwhile this other one,” I scoot across the dirt and pat a larger pile of silks, “goes above, and that gets the hot air. These are stabilizers. They’ll keep things level once it’s airborne. And these are for steering.”
    “I have to say it is quite ambitious, Tib. Quite.” Valenor’s cloak swirls and glitters just beside me. It’s amazing, I think, how differently the mantle suits him than it did Jacek. On Valenor’s shoulders, it doesn’t feel like a threat. It feels friendly. Welcoming. Familiar. His shadows are a comfort. Always balanced by the light. Always sparkling with stars. Just like his kingdom, the Dreaming. Pleasant again. There are still nightmares, and there are still pleasant dreams. Most importantly, there’s balance.
    “Is something wrong?” I ask him as I take a wide step over fins to reach the brace again. “It’s nice to see you, but…” I let myself trail off.
    “No, no, nothing pressing,” he says.
    “Nothing pressing? That’s reassuring.” I snort and adjust the wood against the iron. Two more screws. I flex my sore fingers and then set to work again. Valenor stays silent. Watches. Waits. When I finish my work and he still hasn’t said anything, I look up. The shadows are still again. Unmoving.
    “Valenor?” I whisper. “What do you mean, nothing pressing? Valenor?”
    “Keep an ear to the darkness and shadows, Tib. Listen to whisperings, especially at dusk. Do not dismiss that which strikes you as unusual. Keep working. Keep thinking. Be vigilant.” His voice echoes softly as it fades away, leaving my arms prickling with chills again.
    “Thanks for that!” I call out to the empty room, a little annoyed. No use trying to get more information out of him. He’s gone. I toss my turnscrew into the toolbox and douse the torches. Climb up the ladder. Bar the door. Weave through the routes again. Back to the rich part of town. Back to Nessa’s, all the while thinking of Valenor’s warning and Loren and the vest and Celli. It’s not like her to steal. Not that way, anyway. A loaf of bread, maybe. A handful of coin. Anything to get by. Not a rich man’s bag. Or a rich boy’s, for that matter. Do not dismiss that which strikes you as unusual .
    The Ganvent manse stands sturdy and welcoming in front of me. Cool stone, rosy with the sunset. Ruben is outside, tossing a ball up the stoop and catching it as it rolls down.