by Ryan Muree
“Your other shipping boss, Boss Kimpert, has ordered new flight paths. She’s gone with a new shipping pilot for her southern points.”
Her heart dropped out. She’d been replaced?
Cayn pulled out his gun but didn’t aim it at him. “Don’t screw with us.”
Branson held up his hands as if to surrender, and then slowly relit his swampgrass. “I’m not screwing with nobody. I told you I’d be honest. Go ask Boss Kimpert yourself. All the shipping points are changing rapidly. Something to do with the Revelian border.”
But her other shipping boss dropping Clove didn’t make sense. “I-I’ve never been late. Not ever. I’ve never lost cargo.” How could Kimpert do this to her? How could she cut her off after three years of perfect business? And she still owed her for her last shipments. It wasn’t fair. “Why did she do this?”
He took back one of the silver pieces from her hand, and she squinted at him. “I might have told some of the other shipping bosses about our little… proposal.”
“You told Kimpert I was working for you?” She pounded her fist on the desk.
“No, I would never do that to you. I told her I had a little bit of a crush—”
“How dumb are you?” she shouted, tossing some of his papers and half-eaten pens off the desk.
“Hey!”
“How would you even know me if I didn’t work for you? Kimpert isn’t dumb. Kimpert doesn’t like sharing her pilots, and she hates you!”
Boss Kimpert had given her eight routes, and those accounted for over fifty percent of their income. Worse still, if word got out that Kimpert had replaced her, the other bosses wouldn’t trust her either. They’d start dropping out. Her reputation would be ruined, and she and Cayn would starve. They’d get behind on rent, they’d have to return to the mines—
Cayn placed a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll be okay, I promise. We can handle it.”
She swallowed and composed herself.
“I know, it’s tough, sweetheart.” Branson took a long draw on his cigarette. “But the offer to marry me still stands.”
Oh, she’d kill him.
She yanked him forward by his shirt, ripped the swampgrass from his mouth, and extinguished it on the back of his hand.
He screamed and squirmed, but Cayn immediately jumped in to help her restrain him.
“I will never marry your disgusting, moldy ass.”
Branson whimpered and moaned under the pain of the burning hole in his skin.
She took back all of her money, crammed it in her pocket with the other silver pieces, and threw him back into his chair.
Arms wheeling, he barely managed to keep the chair’s four feet on the ground as she stomped out.
“I like it a bit rough,” he called behind her.
He wouldn’t like it when he was out of business, and she’d make sure of that.
She tore through the corridor for Pigyll with Cayn at her heels.
“What now, sis?”
“Now, we go to Kimpert. I want to hear it from her own mouth.”
“Got it.”
Cayn never questioned or doubted. He went along with whatever the plan was and kept her anchored to what mattered—each other. And that little speck of land that would be hers someday.
Chapter 6
Lower bunk below Emeryss — Zephyr Airship
Grier stared up at the underside of Emeryss’s bunk.
The Keepers’ barracks had been much more welcoming and cozier than this cold, hollow cabin. It was small, too, but this was tiny. His head nearly reached the ceiling beams when he stood, and the sink was practically hanging over his bed, which was a feat considering the bed was only big enough for him to lay flat or on his side. No spreading was possible in this bunk, and his feet had hung off the end a good seven or eight inches.
There were no rugs, no color, no windows. The fixtures, furniture pieces, and all six walls were a dark-gray with the tiniest hint of blue. There was an incessant hum accompanied by the slow bob of the airship. The only warm thing in the room was still asleep above him—Emeryss.
Aside from their walks, this was the closest to her he’d ever been.
A lot of his frustration had dissipated since the night before, but not enough. He’d spent a good portion of the night thinking of things to say to the library: he was doing his duty, he’d kept her safe…
Maybe she got about as much sleep as he did, which was to say hardly any. Between the night’s events and the stress of what was yet to come, old memories had haunted him, too.
It had been summer, and classes were on break. He was young, maybe seven years old, and he’d just learned to write the Keeper’s oath all on his own from memory. It’d earned him a solid pat on the shoulder from his father and extra swordstaff practice with his mother.
His best friend, Lucas, had been bored. So, he’d dared Grier to steal a book from the library.
Not a special one, little Lucas had said with a gap between his two front teeth. Just a regular old boring book.
Grier had refused. Those books weren’t for Keepers, and he was going to be a Keeper someday. He would never be a commander like his father if he misbehaved. But Lucas’s father had been a basic guard for the campus. Not even high enough to earn a Scribe to protect. Lucas had said he cared nothin’ about rank or Keepers or Scribes. To him, it was just borrowing the book, a prank. So, Grier went along, just in case Lucas got caught.
After Lucas had stolen the book, he’d taken it outside to the top of the wall behind the campus. He had been so proud of himself, hollering and screaming that he was an amazing Caster. Grier had even laughed at him and played along as if he were a Keeper fighting against Lucas’s make-believe ether. But a storm had rolled in, making the stone slick. Lucas refused to go home despite the wind and rain, and he slipped and fell to the sheared rock below the wall.
Grier had sobbed and wailed all the way to his own mother and father for help. Mother was furious at him—You should have stopped him from stealing that book. You should have been strong enough to do what was right before it happened. Father wouldn’t even speak to him. And Lucas, with his two broken legs and half his face torn to pieces, eventually got better. Grier wasn’t allowed to see him anymore. And after Lucas’s family left Stadhold, their family name was scratched from the lineage tablets.
Grier’s temples stung.
He’d wanted to keep fighting Emeryss, keep trying to convince her how wrong she was about this. But Emeryss was… Emeryss. She wasn’t Lucas looking for childhood fun. Emeryss was as strong as that summer storm.
He ran his hands over his face. Everything was so screwed up.
It was understandable Emeryss was frustrated, and she wasn’t entirely wrong, but he needed answers. Maybe if he could request a meeting where someone explained why it was okay for Avrist to try to shoot them down, they could set a date when Emeryss could go home. But it didn’t excuse what she did, nor what Adalai did.
And Sonora could have been mistaken. Maybe it wasn’t Keepers chasing them after all. Maybe it was someone else entirely. Maybe whoever it was had seen the RCA airship leaving Stadhold airspace and correctly assumed Casters and their grimoires would be on board.
He groaned to himself, and Emeryss shifted. A thin corner of her blue sheet slipped over the edge.
She was too smart for this. She knew better. She knew the stories of Casters and Scribes being hunted, sold, and slaughtered by the Ingini. So why was she so ignorant about this? It wasn’t that bad at the library, and it hadn’t been that long since she’d been home. He cared about his family as much as she did, but she’d gone too far.
Then again, whenever something is dangled in front of him and he’s told he can’t have it, he damn near loses his mind, too. Goddess knew he’d been fighting a similar demon every day. He managed to keep his relationship with Emeryss at a distance and completely professional per the rules. And if he could do that, then she could wait to see her family, right?
That was it. She wasn’
t ignorant, she was being selfish. She’d gone about this completely wrong, handling it the worst possible way she could. The library needed her too badly, especially when there were too few Scribes behind her, still too young to move into the library for training. But they wouldn’t let her off without consequences.
And he would suffer them, too. Especially if he didn’t report back about their current situation. If she was convinced Avrist hated her, maybe he could request they send Dolan or one of the other Scribes to get her to return. She had to have someone other than him that she trusted and would listen to.
He slipped his legs over the edge of his bed as quietly as he could, the cold from the metal floor shocking his feet.
There was so much he needed to do: find out about this crew and the state of this Delour place they were delivering supplies for, predict possible threats to Emeryss, and contact Lerissa. He should have contacted Lerissa last night, but he hadn’t. He couldn’t…
He should have.
Expulsion from the Keepers had been his fear last night, but he’d panicked. His removal from the Keepers seemed unlikely today. Emeryss was safe, currently; he had seen to that. She was out of Stadhold, but he had followed her to maintain her safety. He was still doing his job.
He sighed, and the sheets in the bunk above him rustled again. He didn’t want to be there when she woke up, so he managed to stand without a hint of sound. Save for the bracer on his left arm protecting his sigils, he was down to his thin padding for clothes. His plate lay on the floor’s metal grating in the corner. There was no putting it on without waking up the whole airship.
His stomach growled, and the sound echoed.
He froze. Please don’t wake up. Please don’t wake up.
Emeryss sighed in her sleep, and his gaze drifted to the top bunk behind him.
Still in her Scribe uniform, she lay on her side with her legs pulled in and her lips slightly parted. Her soft, wavy hair was like an ocean at night. It cascaded over her shoulder and parts of her face.
He’d teased her about casting, but he’d always known she was serious. People don’t try every day for years as a mere hobby or some entertainment. But he’d never asked about it, never suggested a thing, because he hadn’t wanted to embarrass her or make her feel pressured to do the impossible. Maybe if he’d talked to her sooner about it, figured out what it was that made it so important to her, he could have avoided this mess.
He wanted to slide her hair back for her, rub her cheek, tell her that laws and rules kept her safe. The discipline to follow them kept them protected and out of trouble. Even if he didn’t agree with all of them.
Warmth bloomed in his chest and up his neck. She’d told him to leave without her so that he wouldn’t get in trouble, not because she wanted to be away from him.
He’d figure out the rest.
He slipped into his boots and opened the solid metal door. The hall was only slightly brighter, but larger and colder. Footsteps echoed down from the right, and he closed the cabin door behind him with a simple click of the latch.
The short guy with white hair and a round face turned the corner. He didn’t look a day over eighteen.
“Vaughn?” Grier asked.
“That’s me. I was coming to wake you guys up.”
“Emeryss is still sleeping, and I need to use a Messenger.”
The kid gestured down the hall with his pointed chin. “I’ll take ya.”
They walked the length of the dark, sterile corridor shaped like a U to the lifting platform. Blue-tinted ether lights glimmered along the ceiling.
Vaughn pulled his hands from the pockets of his Zephyr uniform and gestured to the two-button panel on the wall. “The green one.”
Grier punched the green button with two fingers, and the platform jiggled slightly before lifting them.
Vaughn’s wrist was marked with multiple bits of ether. It was impossible to read all the forms or the amounts without being rude. “Matter casting is interesting.”
“Yup.”
The platform whined as it continued up two more levels.
“What you did last night was really fascinating—changing the size of the ship.” Grier might have been good and pissed, but this guy was smart enough to know that Adalai was making a mistake, and his skill was impressive.
Vaughn laughed. “Better than that. I can separate size from mass, too—heavier or lighter. So, a tiny metal ball can become a giant and heavy metal ball or just a giant metal ball.”
“Nice.”
“Almost makes it unfair. For the enemy, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
The platform shook to a stop. They crossed over into an identical U-shaped hallway, walked all the way around, and stopped at a small flat desk with a smaller ether lamp over it. Rolls of paper sat in a skinny tube on the side next to two quills in a metal canister. The desk hummed with a blue tint on its surface.
“So, this is the newer model?” Grier asked, running his hand over the table.
“Yep. The tech was stolen six months ago off an Ingini mining airship. Five times faster, it takes up less room, requires less ether. If Ingini weren’t so cruel to their people and dead set on killing us, they’d be pretty smart. All the newer Revel airships have them now. Of course, when you have Adalai on your team, you get pushed to the front for new things.”
“Why’s that?”
“She’s General Orr’s adopted daughter.”
He jerked his chin toward Vaughn.
“Well, sort of. It’s hard to explain. He took her in, did this whole save her from the streets thing… Never mind. Point is she gets special things from him, and we benefit.” Vaughn grinned.
He’d only seen General Orr in news events and speeches alongside King Fhaddwick, but the man was powerful enough for Stadhold Keepers to know of him. And here Grier had tried to kill his adopted daughter.
Maybe she shouldn’t be a criminal, then.
He slid a piece of paper onto the Messenger table, picked up the quill, and wrote:
Loc. Stadhold – Great Library
Rec. Captain Lerissa
Msg. Emeryss and I are safe. Emeryss, unfortunately, took advantage of a routine RCA pickup and stowed away. They are treating Emeryss well, and are not responsible for her escape, but I have been unsuccessful in convincing her to return. I hope to convince her before we leave Delour. If you could send her former teacher, Dolan, or another Scribe she trusts, it might be easier. Until then, I am keeping to my duty to protect her.
- Grier Rinnegan IV
Vaughn snorted. “Good luck with that. She looked pretty convincing last night.”
He’d considered including a note about Adalai, but the Librarian would be plenty mad anyway. They didn’t need General Orr going off or the public catching wind of both a thieving illusionist making it inside the drawing room and a runaway Scribe.
“So, you’re still going to convince Emeryss to go to Stadhold?”
“She needs to be at the library. She wasn’t a prisoner.” He dropped the quill into its canister and stood back. “Now what?”
“Oh.” Vaughn leaned over, rolled the message, and slipped it into a small receptacle in the wall. “Push that button with a finger from your shield-arm.”
Grier did so, and a blue light followed by a red light glowed from the slot. A tiny puff of smoke escaped.
“You didn’t want a copy, right?”
Grier side-eyed him.
“Just saying that if you did, there’s another button to push first. But it’s too late now for that one.”
“Is that it?” he asked. “It’s sent?”
“Yup—”
There was a plunk from a different receptacle.
Vaughn whistled. “Wow. That was fast.”
He took a deep breath. Too fast.
Vaughn reached over, removed the new paper, and unrolled it onto the table.
Loc. Revel – Zephyr Airship
Rec. Grier Rinnegan IV
M
sg. Stay put. Go nowhere. Keep her in sight at all times. Avrist will meet you in Delour.
So, Lerissa wouldn’t take his advice and bring someone Emeryss would trust? This would be difficult.
“Avrist? The guy from last night?” Vaughn asked over his shoulder.
He sighed through his nose. Now, he had to tell Emeryss, and she would not be happy.
“Is he like your boss?” Vaughn continued. “They say Keepers get tied up and beat until they comply. Is he the guy that does that to you?”
He spun his head toward Vaughn, squinted at him, and walked away.
Vaughn followed. “You can tell me. I get it. I mean, I get what it’s like to be a real fighter.”
“They don’t beat us,” Grier grumbled. “We’re made to train harder. Harden the body until you can harden the mind.”
Vaughn’s gaped mouth snapped shut. “Yeesh. That is… not fun.”
He rounded the corridor toward the platform. “It’s not meant to be fun.”
After a long silence and stepping onto the platform beside him, Vaughn cleared his throat. “I bet you’re a blast at parties.”
“You know, I’m not that much older than you.”
“Yeah, but you act like an old man.”
He’d had enough. “Where can I get something to eat?”
Vaughn punched the panel button again, and the platform rose to the next level. “I feel like I’ve heard Avrist’s name before. Before last night, I mean. Is he a Keeper General or something?”
“He’s the only locator Caster in the world. He uses ether to track future Scribes and Sigilists in Revel for Librarian Jgenult.”
Vaughn nodded and cracked his knuckles as the platform whined to a stop. They stepped out together. “So, she is being hunted?”
“She’s not prey.”
Vaughn pursed his lips and tilted his head. “Sort of sounds like it, especially after last night.”
No, it was Avrist’s job, and after Lerissa’s note, it was entirely possible Avrist wasn’t on that ship shooting at them. Lerissa had made it sound like they were sending Avrist after them now.
