The Kraken King, Part 8

by Meljean Brook

  And no farmers. A few tall walking machines stood near the river, the balloon heads distinct across the distance. “Where are the houses?”

  Ariq pointed to a copse of trees. Frowning, Zenobia glanced at the spyglass in his hand, but he pulled it out of her reach before she could take it. “They would consider it rude,” he said.

  Anybody would. But despite her curiosity, they couldn’t afford rudeness now, Zenobia understood. Not when the fate of Ariq’s town might rest in their hands. So she squinted, then her lips parted on a gasp. “They’re not trees!”

  “Some of them are.”

  Some of them. And the rest were platforms and shelters and bridges. “Is it to avoid the boilerworms?”

  Just as almost every building in the mining community of Altun stood on stilts.

  “I think so,” Ariq said. “But it might be for concealment, or so that the homes aren’t damaged when the river floods. Maybe some other reason.”

  “Is it a full community?”

  “Probably a family or a clan. But I don’t know for certain.”

  Because the Wajarri preferred to conduct their business with outsiders through a liaison, such as Meeng. Ariq wouldn’t have been invited to any of these communities. “Are we allowed to fly here?”

  “Yes. But we would need permission to leave the airship or to hover for any length of time. They rarely give it.”

  “Will they give it to you?”

  “I won’t ask for it. Meeng would prefer to come up—and if he does, that will be permission enough.”

  “Would he— Oh!” She gripped his arm as they flew over another ridge, and suddenly hundreds more trees and walking machines dotted the long, shallow valley laid out before them.

  The walking machines weren’t the same as the Nyungar’s, though the balloon head was similar. Shorter, they had sturdier frames—but were still taller than any of the surrounding trees.

  She could see figures working the fields now, men or women wearing colorful wraps. Laboring alongside them was a smaller walking machine that resembled a man with a stick, which it pushed through the soil ahead like a plow. Pale dust rose over another field, though most of the ground looked heavy and wet with rain.

  Not dust, she realized suddenly. Steam. And in the midst of it, a terrifyingly familiar shape erupted from the ground.

  “A boilerworm,” she said, and as another of the monsters appeared beside the first her tongue seemed to shrivel, the words thick. “Boilerworms. Oh, God. Can we help?”

  Ariq caught her wrist as she turned with the intention to find Yasmeen. “They don’t need help.”

  “But—”

  “Look.”

  He steered her back to the rail, where she watched with her heart pounding. The boilerworms circled . . . and circled . . . and circled. Not one of them started for any of the Wajarri working in the fields, and none of the Wajarri were running, though their human bodies must have been warmer than the ground or the air.

  Zenobia shook her head. “I don’t understand. Have the Wajarri domesticated them?”

  “The worms haven’t been tamed. The Wajarri remove part of the brains, then use the worms to dig. These are being used in the fields, and others to create underground water storage. See?” He traced a path through the air that encompassed an enormous portion of the valley, and she recognized a faint corresponding shape on the ground. “The stored water can be used in the dry seasons—and it keeps other boilerworms away, because the water underground stays cool. So the Wajarri can run the plows and walk safely without worrying that a boilerworm will come up from below.”

  At a loss for words, Zenobia could only shake her head again.

  Ariq said, “The Wajarri dug out the Skybreaker’s chamber for me in the same way.”

  “Using boilerworms?”

  “Yes. It would have taken years for me to excavate a chamber of the same size.”

  Incredible. And she realized, “Then they already know about the machine?”

  He nodded. “I couldn’t have hidden it from Meeng even if I’d wanted to. And now we’ve been seen. I’ll tell Captain Corsair to stop and wait for them.”

  How did he know they’d been seen? Zenobia remained at the bow, watching. After a few moments, she realized that many of the walking machines had turned in Lady Nergüi’s direction. Others had begun striding toward them.

  She needed to stop staring. Reluctantly, she stepped away from the rail and turned her back on the approaching machines.

  The engines quieted. From below, she heard a bleating goat—and before long, the sound was drowned out by the heavy stomp of the walking machines.

  ***

  Captain Corsair offered her quarters for the meeting with the Wajarri, and the cabin she shared with Zenobia’s brother wouldn’t have been out of place in a palace. Heavy curtains draped the walls and sleeping berth. Silk pillows in brilliant colors were piled around a low table weighed down by a feast. The air was laden with the scent of spiced roasted meats, saffron, and rice.

  Meeng offered Ariq a small nod—not just in appreciation of the food, Ariq thought, but because he’d made sure it was available. His friend’s face was otherwise unreadable, as were those of his companions. Two other men had accompanied Meeng aboard, but he hadn’t told Ariq their names—he only called them “the older” and “the younger.”

  Only a few words passed between them as they settled around the table. Though at any other time, Meeng would have already been helping himself to a bowl or two, Ariq had expected this new formality. Meeng represented his people’s interests, just as Ariq represented his.

  He hadn’t expected that they would eat before talking of anything at all. Never had it been so difficult to push his worry aside, but he forced down every bite, though his stomach seemed scoured raw. They followed with cigarillos, and each puff drew his lungs tighter and tighter.

  Finally Meeng asked through a cloud of smoke, “Is the general still in your town?”

  “Yes. You left as soon as his men arrived?”

  Meeng nodded lazily, but his gaze was sharp. When he replied, he indicated the elder and the younger, though the two other men were not even looking at him or Ariq. “The general was not the man we’d made our agreement with, and I didn’t want to be forced to make another agreement that wasn’t as beneficial to us.”

  Because, as the liaison, he would have to honor it. “Thank you.”

  Meeng shrugged. “So I awaited your return. You do intend to get rid of him?”

  “As soon as I’m able. He wants the machine.”

  Meeng’s eyes narrowed. “Do you intend to give it to him?”

  “No.” And here was another reason Ariq couldn’t hand it over. The Wajarri knew what they’d allowed into their lands and what lay at their feet. Ariq had told them the machine would slumber, but he couldn’t keep that promise now. “I might have to use it against a Nipponese fleet.”

  The other men still weren’t watching them, but now they quit all pretense of paying attention to anything else. They listened intently as Meeng asked, “What will that mean?”

  “War. So I have come for your help.”

  Meeng’s lazy posture dropped away. He sat up, his back straight and his expression tight. “We will not see our men die for you.”

  “The Nipponese airships are hovering over your territory at the eastern side of my town. Not only flying, but intercepting other ships and threatening them. In your territory.”

  His friend’s expression became grave. “If they encroach once, they might again—and the treaties with the Nipponese would be broken. Not only ours, but those of our brothers and sisters.”

  The other tribes and clans all considered their relationship with the Nipponese as one, so that the massacres and wars of centuries past wouldn’t be repeated. In that respect, just one tribe was powerful enough t
hat even the empress would step lightly in her dealings with them.

  “I don’t want you to fight,” Ariq told him. “I don’t believe the Nipponese would risk endangering the treaties, either—but they might risk it if you aren’t there to see how they’ve stepped over your territory. They might believe there is no danger in what you don’t know. Even you cannot see an airship’s footprint.”

  His friend appeared irritated by that observation, but he only grunted a response, indicating that Ariq should continue.

  “Your presence should force them away from the eastern side of town. If it does, I’ll only have to fight on one side.”

  Meeng nodded. “So that you do not have enemies at your back and your front.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then we will discuss it with the others and tell you of our decision.” Abruptly he stood, followed by the younger and the elder.

  “How long?” Ariq asked.

  Meeng shrugged. His companions preceded him through the door. In the passageway, Ariq fell into step beside his friend and lowered his voice.

  “Will you come?” Ariq thought that Meeng wanted to—he knew the man cared about the fate of the town—but it was not only Meeng’s decision. He would have to persuade the others. Still, one walking machine standing over his town could make all the difference.

  “If we arrive, you will know our answer,” Meeng said, and left Ariq stewing in hot frustration.

  But he had to accept that answer. It was Meeng’s way. The man wouldn’t make a promise now if he wasn’t certain he could honor it.

  Zenobia joined Ariq as he stood at the rail, watching the cargo lift carry the three men to the ground. Children played below, laughing and daring each other to race near the platform as it lowered.

  By the time the lift began rising again, her brother had taken up the rail at her left side, with Mara, Cooper, and Captain Corsair nearby.

  His wife’s voice was quiet as she asked, “Do you think they will come?”

  “I don’t know.” The admission was difficult, as if his throat and chest were caught in a vise. “I think he’ll try to persuade them.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “Then I fight,” he said bleakly. “I fight to the end.”

  Her brother pushed away from the rail, shaking his head. “This war machine—you can’t give it up? We can find you another. We can have it brought to you.”

  Just as any former smuggler would say. But Archimedes Fox didn’t know the Skybreaker wasn’t just any war machine. If it was, Ariq could find another, too.

  “Not like this one,” Ariq said. “Ghazan Bator would use it to destroy the Khagan, but would also smash anyone caught in his path.”

  Mara glanced over the rail at the playing children and her lips tightened, as if she’d imagined the young of the Golden Empire caught in that path. “You fear the Nipponese empress would, too?”

  “Not that she would use it against the Khagan,” he said. “She would be less likely to use it at all. But I’ve seen how quickly she will strike against a threat, even if the evidence turns against it. Should I leave my town with no defense against that?” Ariq couldn’t. “If I give up the Skybreaker, it is a choice between allowing the slaughter of the people I spent years fighting for, or to leave defenseless the people I fight for now. Which would you choose?”

  Her face troubled, Mara shook her head. The silence from the others said they saw no good alternative, either.

  And so this was what it felt like to be trapped. To have no options. To have worry and helpless frustration crawling through his chest like a cold, barbed worm.

  “What next?” Captain Corsair said. “Do we wait here?”

  Ariq couldn’t. “We fly to my town. If the Wajarri decide to come, they will come—but if Ghazan Bator still occupies the town, even their presence might not be enough. The general cares nothing for the treaties between them and the Nipponese.”

  “Will the admiral?” Zenobia asked. “Tatsukawa is already going against the empress’s wishes by pursuing this route. Will he care about the treaties?”

  “He would. He wants to destroy the Khagan so that the Golden Empire won’t be a threat to Nippon. Starting a war with the Wajarri or any of the other tribes would create a new threat. I think he’ll try to avoid that.”

  “To Krakentown then,” Captain Corsair said. “Quietly?”

  “Yes,” Ariq said. The general had to know he was coming, but Ariq didn’t have to announce his arrival.

  “Are you taking back your town?”

  “I am. But I would like to hire your crew to help me.”

  “Then we’ll go wherever you toss your gold.” The captain glanced up at the sky. The sun hung low on the western horizon. “Travel will be a little over three hours, and we’ll arrive under clear skies and a bright moon. Our balloon will be spotted on our approach.”

  “We have the autogyros we designed to infiltrate New Eden,” Archimedes said. “They can carry eight of us and are quiet.”

  Us. Zenobia’s brother was already including himself in this mission. All right. Ariq had worked with the man before. He would again.

  “We can fly the machines in from the southeast,” Ariq said. “There’s a chamber underground. We’ll use it as a tunnel to access the town. It opens up behind my residence.”

  The captain nodded. “You know the town and the general best. Can you sketch out a plan of attack?”

  He’d already formed one. “Yes.”

  “Then we’ll take this into my cabin and talk it out while we fly.” Moving with purpose, the captain started across the decks. A moment later the quartermaster was shouting orders to the crew. The engines fired.

  Her face pale, Zenobia waited as the others filed toward the companionway, briefly leaving her alone with Ariq at the rail. She’d caught her lower lip between her teeth and Ariq knew what she was stopping herself from asking. “You want to go,” he said softly.

  She sighed. “I know I can’t. They already have your brother. I won’t give them another weapon against you, so that you have to give up the Skybreaker to save us.”

  If Ghazan Bator used Taka to force Ariq into giving up the machine, making that trade wouldn’t be saving his brother. It would destroy him, instead. But Ariq didn’t say so. No matter what happened in his town, he didn’t want his wife caught in the middle.

  And she wouldn’t be unprotected here. “Mara and Cooper will be staying with you.”

  Her sharp features instantly set into stubborn lines. “No. They can help you—”

  “They could. But I hired this this crew because you once told me that Captain Corsair could help me, too. Now will you tell me this crew isn’t good enough?”

  “They are. But—”

  “Even your brother? You called him an idiot.”

  She seemed to choke. Startled by the question, but laughing now. “As long as he doesn’t wear his brightest yellow breeches and give away your position.”

  “Yes,” Ariq agreed. Though his own white blousy shirt would compete for the attention.

  With a heavy sigh, her laughter faded away. “Please be careful.”

  That he could do. Catching her hand, he kissed her ink-stained fingers and swore, “I will.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Ariq had never liked autogyros—they were too unstable and easy to tip—yet these maneuvered well. They could fly near enough to the ground to avoid attracting attention, and the quiet whirring of the blades overhead wouldn’t be noticed by anyone aboard the Nipponese airships.

  They approached the southeast entrance of the Skybreaker’s chamber and he breathed deep of the cool air as soon as they sat the machines onto the ground. His town had its own smell, of ocean and baked earth and roasting kraken. Ariq hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it until he’d filled his lungs with the scent again. />
  The entrance was little more than a hole in the ground marked by a tree and concealed by dirt. He uncovered the door and dialed the lock combination. On bare feet, he began to descend the ladder. The water was up to his shins when he reached the bottom; Taka hadn’t been able to run the pumps with the general in town. It didn’t matter. If Ariq was forced to use the Skybreaker, soon this chamber would be completely full of water.

  It was an endless trek past the machine, all but invisible in the darkness overhead. Captain Corsair and her crew splashed behind him, led by the pinpoint lantern he carried for them to follow. After a few minutes, she caught up to him.

  “I thought you were exaggerating the size,” she said quietly.

  “No.” And he hadn’t realized she could see in the dark.

  “It could easily destroy a city.”

  It could destroy much more than that. But Ariq only said, “Yes.”

  Water splashed around their legs. The sound echoed from the sides of the chamber and the machine.

  “I was raised in Constantinople,” she said, and the words were heavy with meaning, like a dagger dripping with blood. “Do you know what your uncle did there?”

  Ariq did. Twenty years before, a claimant to the Khagan’s throne had been marching his way east toward the royal city, and Temür Agha—the Khagan’s most feared general—had destroyed Constantinople to stop him.

  “I know,” he said softly.

  “He would have used a machine like this if he’d had it. Now he marches east with his rebel army. Do you intend to let him use it now?”

  “He wouldn’t use it now,” Ariq said. “He won’t even ask for it.”

  And if his uncle ever did, all of Ariq’s hope for the rebellion would vanish.

  “You’re so certain?”

  “Yes.” He stopped and faced her. She was hardly more than a tall shadow beside him. “You must hate him, yet you helped him escape Rabat when it fell.”

  She laughed a little. A moment later the flare of a spark lighter revealed the hardness of her expression. She lit a cigarillo before extinguishing the flame, and the glowing tip was all that he saw of her through the dark. “While I was there—just before the uprising—I spent every moment planning to kill him. I would have only needed to get past Nasrin long enough to twist his neck.”