by Joel Ross
A flush of triumph warmed me. We still needed Swedish, still needed to sell the diamond and hire a coyote, but we’d gotten this far. We’d made it to the Rooftop.
One step closer to Port Oro. Also one step closer to Lord Kodoc, and surrounded by thousands of roof-troopers. But we were on our way to finding a cure for Mrs. E. On our way to a new life and a new world, free from the shadow of fear.
23
THE HOUSES OF THE lower slope were bigger and sturdier than junkyard shacks. Some were built with timber and tin, some had clay-and-laptop walls—a few of them even had two stories. Camel carts heaved past them, laden with carrots and radishes, and a grimy boy walked along, eating a shiny apple.
My mouth watered. In the slum, a bigger kid would’ve snatched that apple in a second—and this was still the poor section of the Rooftop.
We wandered down the street, gaping at the sights, until Hazel stopped so suddenly that a pinch-faced woman almost crashed into her.
“Oh!” Hazel said. “Sorry.”
The woman glared. “Watch where you’re walking, miss fancy-piece—and that goes for your urchins, too.”
She bustled past, and Hazel nudged me. “See? I told you, people are the same everywhere.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Grumpy.”
“We’re urchins!” Bea told me proudly.
I couldn’t tell if she knew what “urchins” meant, and I almost laughed. “We’re really moving up in the world.”
“Why’d you stop?” Bea asked Hazel.
“We need to stay at the bridge,” she said. “So we’ll see Swedish when he crosses.”
“Oh, right.” Keeping my head lowered, I scanned the area. “We can wait outside that glassblowing shop.”
Bea brightened. “Glassblowing! Do you think they’ll show me how?”
“No,” I said. “And you can’t ask.”
“Why not?” she demanded. “I’ll show them how to make twistys.”
“They’d probably like it better if you showed them how to fix a foggium engine with a rusty bottle cap and a little chitchat.”
She stuck her tongue out at me. “Why can’t I at least talk to them?”
“Because we don’t want to attract any attention while we wait.”
“You’re not waiting,” Hazel told me.
“I’m not? What am I doing?”
“Finding us a jeweler.”
I felt a tingle of excitement with an edge of fear. “Right now?”
She nodded. “I need to stay close in case Swedish has trouble crossing. And look at that. . . .”
Down the street, a patrol of roof-troopers marched through the crowd. They wore armored uniforms and carried swords and steam-bows. One plump woman didn’t see them coming and was knocked to the ground. When the patrol disappeared into the guard station, the entire world breathed a sigh of relief.
“You can’t stand around next to the guard stations,” Hazel continued.
I took a deep breath. “Yeah, okay. So where should I look for a jeweler?”
“I don’t know.” Hazel unclasped the veil from her face. “Not this close to the slum. Look higher on the mountain, and meet us back at the bridge.”
“Gotcha.”
“Then we’ll sell the diamond together,” she told me. “That’s not the kind of thing you want to do alone.”
“Okay.”
“And don’t go chasing after coyotes. We’ll find them once we get the money.”
“All right.”
“And Chess? If you get into trouble, just bow and grovel and run away.”
“Sure.”
She smoothed my hair farther over my eye. “One more thing.”
“Yes, Admiral Bossy-pants?”
She poked me in the chest. “Don’t steal any apples.”
Bea giggled, and I took a ragged breath and left them. I slouched along the street, past chugging generators shooting sparks and street vendors bellowing prices. I couldn’t believe how rich everyone was. Nobody fought over the pencil stub on the ground or the pile of soggy acrylicloth scraps—nobody even noticed them.
Swallowing my amazement, I followed a switchback trail uphill. I scanned the crowd for someone to ask about a jeweler, and a shadow fell across the street. When I looked upward, I saw a patrol airship swooping directly toward me.
“No,” I gasped.
I froze, rooted to the spot as the ship angled closer . . . then flew past.
The troopers hadn’t seen me, they were just patrolling. Dizzy with relief, I watched the guardship roar over the smokestacks and chimneys. And whoa, it was one sweet ship. I mean, Rooftop patrols flew over the slum sometimes, but never that low and slow, showing off every detail.
I hoped Bea had a good view.
When I looked back to the street, I spotted a skinny man with a friendly-looking face. “Uh, excuse me, sir?” I said, falling into step with him. “I’m looking for a jewelry store?”
To my surprise, he smiled at me. “Sure. Take a left at the mill, head up-mountain for a few minutes, and it’s in the square past the hydrostatic station.”
Five minutes later, I was lost in a junction of walkways and stairs near the mill. Five minutes after that, I was lost at a stone quarry. But five minutes after that I crossed a square and saw the sign: JEWELRY BOO-TEAK.
Strange name, but the shop itself looked perfect, with flowers blooming beside the door and thick iron bars on the windows. I turned in a circle to get my bearings, then headed down-mountain, back to the bridge.
Halfway there, I paused on a stairway beside a hillside airfield dotted with gearslinger workshops, oversized thoppers, and half-built frames. Looked like gearhead heaven. Bea would go peanuts over all the top-notch gear—and so would Swedish, if he got across.
The thought worried me. Had he made it? I rushed down the flight of wooden steps, then trotted toward the bridge in search of the crew. No sign of them. Not outside the glass shop, not under the white-barked trees.
Where were they? Had something happened?
I drifted toward a row of empty pushcarts, feeling an itch of fear. Then a hand clamped my mouth from behind, and a knife jabbed my ribs.
24
“SHUT YOUR FACE!” a voice breathed as the hand dragged me into an alley.
The attacker had struck without warning, like a coil of Fog thickening suddenly into a driftshark. At least this was just a person. Half blind with fear, I stomped with my heel, aiming for the knife wielder’s foot.
I hit the cobblestones instead, and pain burst through my leg. So I lunged backward, but the attacker sidestepped and my head smacked the wall. I slumped sideways, seeing double. Two walls beside me, two skies above me, two Lorettas in front of me.
“L-Loretta?” I stammered, rubbing my aching head. “What are you doing here? Where’s Perry? Where’s Swedish?”
“What do you think I’m doing here?” She grinned crookedly. “I came to buy some pretty hijabs, like Hazel.”
My fear edged into anger. I wasn’t good at fighting, but I wasn’t afraid of it, either. Especially after she put her knife away.
“Where is Hazel?” I demanded, stepping closer.
“Whoa, there.” Loretta raised her hands in surrender, though her fingerless gloves only made her look even more thuggish. “Me and Swede came over together.”
“Together?”
“Uh-huh.”
I glared. “You and Swedish?”
“Yeah. And Perry’s nowhere. Well, he’s somewhere, but not here. He doesn’t even know we’re here, not yet.”
“You came with Swedish? Why?”
“Well, I kind of, um . . .” Loretta toed the ground. “I got to thinking about what he said? About me being worse than he thought? And, um—yeah.”
“Yeah, what? Last I saw, your thugs were trying to stomp him.”
Her broad face broke into a smile. “You should’ve seen him, Chess! For a sweet guy, he really knows how to handle himself. He mowed down a couple of Perry’s best hit
ters before you could say ‘cockroach relish.’”
I rubbed my head again. “And then what?”
“Then I fought Swede down the block, and maybe I could’ve stabbed him in the knee, but I didn’t.” She considered. “Of course, he could’ve broke my arm and he didn’t, either. So I thought, you know, he still likes me.”
I blinked at her. “Because he didn’t break your arm?”
“Ain’t that sweet?” she said, sighing.
“It’s adorable,” I said.
“And anyway, here we are.”
“No,” I said. “Here you are. Where’s he?”
“With Hazel and Bea. They’re hiding.”
“What? Why?”
“You can’t drop Hazel in a crowded street and think nobody’s going to notice! Dressed like that? The boys started swarming like flies on a skinned rat.”
“Oh. So they sent you to look for me?”
“That’s right,” she said with her gap-toothed smile. “Nobody notices me. I ain’t pretty like Hazel, or big like Swede. Me and you, Chess, you know what stands out about us?”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Except . . .” She peered at the hair falling over my face. “I bet your eye’s messed up. I’ve never seen it.”
“Good.”
“What is it, an empty socket?”
“Maybe.”
She made a disgusted face. “I bet it’s gross.”
“It’s hypnotic,” I told her. “Are you going to take me to Hazel?”
“Of course I am! What do you think? C’mon, stop wasting time.”
She led me past a few round buildings with kangaroo-hide walls, and I felt a slow simmer of suspicion. I didn’t trust Loretta. I hadn’t trusted her last week or last year, and I sure didn’t trust her after last night.
“How did you get past the guards?” I asked.
“I borrowed a pass,” she said.
“Someone lent you a pass?”
She shrugged. “Well, me and my knife borrowed it.”
“Oh.”
“And I still had to knock the guy out.” She shook her head sadly and stepped into a farm shack. “Some people, huh?”
“Right,” I said, my suspicion rising as I followed her inside.
“Chess!” Bea bounded from the shadows. “You’re okay!”
I yelped in surprise. “I’m fine! But what’s Loretta doing here?”
“She’s with us now,” Hazel said. “Tell me you found a jeweler.”
I frowned. What did that mean, she’s with us now? What about my freak-eye? If Loretta joined the crew, I’d need to start hiding my eye in private, too. And this was my family. You don’t run around inviting new people into your family, not without asking everyone first.
“What are you talking about?” I said, my voice rising. “Loretta’s here—that doesn’t mean she’s with us.”
“She is,” Hazel told me. “She’s crew.”
“No,” I said, clamping down on my anger. “We’re crew. The four of us.”
Hazel rubbed her eyes, then asked me very quietly, “Do you trust me?”
“Do you trust Loretta?” I shot back. “Do any of us trust her?”
“Far as I can throw her,” Swedish said.
Bea cocked her head. “How far is that?”
“I don’t know,” Swedish said, glancing at Loretta. “I haven’t tried yet.”
Loretta toed the dirt again and for some reason looked almost pleased.
“She helped us, Chess,” Hazel told me. “She got Swedish across the bridge, and she—”
“She mugged some poor slob for—”
“And,” Hazel interrupted, “she told the other thugs not to report us to the bosses.”
“She did?”
“Uh-huh.” Hazel nodded. “Loretta’s friends won’t even tell Perry we’re on the Rooftop.”
“Oh, they’ll tell him,” Loretta said. “They’ll take their lazy time is all.”
“How much time?” I asked.
“They’ll probably wait till nightfall. The gangs are going to be busy searching for this kid Kodoc wants—”
“Yeah,” I cut in. “Whoever that is.”
“But once the bosses hear you ran,” Loretta continued, “they’ll make an example of you. They’ll ditch your whole block into the Fog.”
“They’ll ditch your block, too,” I said.
“I don’t have a block, I don’t have anything that matters except . . .” She glanced at Swedish. “Anyway, if Hazel’s making a break for the Rooftop, she’s got a plan. And you know what?”
“What?” Swedish asked.
“I don’t want to die for the bosses, just another worthless slumgirl. I don’t want to die fighting over a pair of rat-skin gloves. You four are different. You’ve got that gleam in your eyes—you always have. So whatever scam you’re running, I want in. Plus you need a fighter.”
“We never needed one before,” I told her.
“After the bosses ditch your shack, they’ll keep hunting you. They won’t ever stop. They answer to Lord Kodoc himself. You know anything about him?”
I glanced at Hazel. “We’ve heard the name.”
“Well, he’s not a fellow who lets things slide. They’ll keep coming until they toss you in the Fog.”
“If they can find us.”
“He’s a Rooftop lord,” Loretta said, “and we’re slum trash. My money’s on him.”
“You don’t have any money,” Swedish said.
Loretta’s bold gaze flicked to Hazel. “You sent Chess for a jeweler?”
“Yeah,” Hazel said.
“Why? You found some gold or something?”
Instead of answering, Hazel looked at me, like she was asking my permission to tell Loretta about the diamond. Because once we did that, she was part of the crew, like it or not. We’d have to tell her about everything else. Including my eye.
“If you’re smart,” I told Loretta, “you’ll head back to the slum and forget all about this.”
She scratched the burn scar on her arm. “Well, nobody ever accused me of being a deep thinker.”
I frowned at the floor. Our lives were changing fast—too fast. Maybe that was scaring me more than telling Loretta our secrets. But some things never changed: of course I trusted Hazel. I trusted her more than I trusted myself.
So after a second, I nodded.
Hazel flicked a smile at me, then said, “We found a diamond.”
Loretta gaped at her. “A di—a diam—no way.”
“The purplest diamond you ever saw,” Bea said.
“Like a . . . a diamond diamond?”
“Almost exactly,” Swedish told her, his eyes crinkling.
“Now tell me you found a jeweler,” Hazel said to me.
“Yep,” I told her. “Fifteen minutes up the mountain.”
“So we have until tonight to sell the diamond, hire a Rooftop coyote, and pick up Mrs. E.”
“Coyote?” Loretta said. “What’re you smuggling?”
“Us. Into Port Oro. After we sell the diamond.”
“Port Oro,” she breathed.
“If we sell the diamond,” Swedish muttered.
Loretta scratched her nose. “Um, can I see it?”
“Maybe later,” I said quickly. “It’s in my boot pocket.”
Loretta didn’t need to know that it was actually on Bea’s necklace. Maybe I’d learn to trust her eventually, but there was no reason to rush into things.
Swedish shot me a look. “Chess, you don’t have to—”
“Time to go,” Hazel interrupted.
Ha. Looked like Hazel wasn’t so sure about Loretta either.
“Keep your eyes down and your hands to yourselves,” Hazel continued. “Stay together. We’ll meet here if we’re separated. No fighting, no stealing, no shoving. No shouting, no swearing, no—”
“Fun,” Loretta said.
25
I LE
D THEM UP the winding streets of the mountain toward the jeweler.
When we reached the stairway beside the airfield, Bea stared at the thoppers and babbled about pressure valves and rotation speeds. Then she stopped short, halfway up the hill. “That’s a twelve-spark repeating tes-array!”
“Bea!” Hazel tugged her arm. “C’mon.”
“But Cap’n, look at her.” She pointed to a twin-hulled thopper with a gleaming engine and exposed gearworks. “She’s purple as a mayfly!”
“As a what?” I said.
“She looks like a mayfly.”
Actually, she looked like a thopper, but I knew better than to argue. Once Bea gave an airship a nickname, she refused to budge.
Swedish nodded. “She’s a beaut.”
“Except for that condenser,” Bea said.
Loretta said, “Huh?”
“The condenser,” Bea explained. “He’s grumpy as an upside-down sundial.”
“You mean the pilot?”
“She means the condenser,” Swedish told her.
“It’s grumpy?”
I hunched my shoulders, disgusted at Loretta’s confusion. How could she be a crew member if she didn’t even understand Bea? “We’re not far now,” I said. “Let’s go.”
“One day,” Bea announced, still gazing at the twin-hulled craft, “I’m going to build a thopper as pretty as that mayfly.”
“Bea, come on! Does Swedish have to carry you?!” Hazel asked her.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!”
When we reached the square, we clustered under the awning of a general store and eyed the Jewelry Boo-Teak—and the bakery and blacksmith and a handful of vendors with pushcarts.
“Ooh,” Bea said. “Look at all the shops!”
“Now you sound like Hazel,” Swedish told her. “If you see any pretty skirts—”
“Shht!” Hazel hissed, staring across the square. “Look at that.”
I followed her gaze toward a small crowd standing around a water pump. At first, I didn’t see the problem. Then I realized that one of them was a bull-necked guy with armored plates on his chest and forearms, and a wooden cudgel at his hip.
