Third Daughter (The Dharian Affairs, Book One)

by Susan Kaye Quinn

  Aniri and her escort wound their way deep into the center of the airharbor. Eventually they came to an enormous version of the automaton she had sparred against back at home, only this one chugged and shuddered with a sound that seemed to shake the floor under Aniri’s boots. Workers gathered at the machine’s feet, breaking large, glistening pieces of black rock into smaller chunks and feeding them into the belly of the beast. A belt ran continuously into it, dumping bits of ore into the machine, looping around and coming back for more. Giant pipes took the place of arms, hissing and leaking small wisps of steam. At the top, the head sprouted another giant tube that disappeared into the tall darkness of the airharbor.

  “That’s the slurry mech,” the man said loudly, to be heard over the hiss of steam and guttural sounds of the machine. “Where they take that blasted ore and turn it into their special gas.”

  “Gas for the skyship?” She coughed on the soot-choked air. The workers all had masks that covered their noses and mouths, as well as shiny, black goggles that made them appear to possess giant, automaton eyes. The workers who weren’t feeding ore to the slurry mech were at the controls—giant wheels they clutched with both hands.

  “Aye, you’ll see the ship for yourself, if you’re lucky.” He leaned away from her and waved over a skinny man who was yelling into the face of one of the workers. The man noticed them and raised his goggles to his forehead, leaving brown moons around his eyes amid a face black with ore dust. He strode quickly over to them, scowling the whole way. His dark eyes seemed like they had been carved from the dull, unglittering parts of the ore itself.

  Her escort gestured to Aniri. “This is my sister’s friend’s cousin,” he said to the man. “Her first day at harbor. What say you pretend like you have a heart today, Flinch, and give her a boost up to shiners?”

  Flinch was an odd name, and Aniri wasn’t sure if it was his real name or not.

  “I don’t care who she is, Karan,” Flinch said. “Everyone starts on ore.”

  “Aye, and ye still working it, aren’t ye?”

  Flinch narrowed his eyes. “Just while we’re working double shifts. Then I’ll be back on engines.”

  “Keep tellin’ yerself that, Flinch. ’Course I could put a word in for ye with the captain. Might smooth things along a bit.”

  Flinch raised an eyebrow, then glanced at Aniri. “In exchange for what?”

  “The girl’s going to be no use to ye here,” Karan said. “Might as well have her on shiners, where she can do some good.”

  “And you’ll get me back on engines?”

  “Can’t guarantee.” Karan shrugged. “But I’ll be up there next shift. Might have a chance to drop a word about yer wasted talents down here on slurry.”

  Flinch lifted his chin. “All right, take her. But then get back here to finish the rest of the shift. You’re already late.” Flinch slid his goggles back down and returned to harassing one of the other workers.

  The sound of the slurry mech faded as Karan led Aniri away. They passed an enormous steam-crane, belching smoke and steam as it reached through a hole in the floor and pulled out a cargo container the size of a shashee. With a slow shuddering movement that reminded her of the beast, the crane settled the wooden container onto the dock. A worker in coveralls dashed in to unhook the crane before it drifted back to the hole for another load. A metallic screech rose up from the opening, along with a whiff of steam and shouts from more crew. Aniri suspected it was the rail entrance to the harbor, but Karan whisked her back into the maze of compartments before she could get a better look.

  They soon reached a metal cage set against a wall that rose up into the darkness. He unlocked the door to the cage with a mechanical key that was pocketed again before she could see how it worked. He held the door open for her to go first.

  In the bustle, she hadn’t said anything about his assistance in avoiding slurry mech duty. “Thank you,” she said belatedly. “You... didn’t have to help me that way. I... really appreciate it.” Somehow her gratitude sounded false, knowing she was here to spy and might end up getting Karan in trouble for his efforts.

  He shrugged and followed her into the cage. After he pulled the door shut, he punched a red button on a metal strip on the side. They lurched into the air, and Aniri had to claw her fingers through the wire mesh of the cage to keep her footing. The floor fell away, and as they rose, Aniri could see the full layout of the airharbor. It was a crazy quilt of compartments, each colorful and busy in its operations to support the skyship. As the cage rattled higher, she spied a train car beneath the hole by the crane. As another load settled onto the harbor floor, a second crane, even larger, hooked onto the cargo container and lifted it up into the dark reaches above.

  “Ye weren’t going to be much use on slurry anyway, fresh,” Karan said, drawing her attention back to him.

  “But you didn’t have to trade favors for me. You don’t even know me.”

  He half-smiled down at her. “No worries. I’ve no intention of saying anything to the captain. The last thing I want is Flinch up in engines with me.”

  “You work on the engines, too?”

  “Yeah, that’s my normal shift.” He leaned against the wire mesh of the cage and examined the steadily retreating floor. “I’m just pulling extra shifts in slurry because the captain’s in an all-fired hurry these days to get aloft.”

  “Why is that?”

  Karan didn’t say anything, simply peered at her with his deep brown eyes. They weren’t unkind, just curious. If one could overlook the size of the man, his face was actually alight with intelligence. He smiled, and Aniri decided he was younger after all, merely weathered with work. And not bad looking as well.

  “What did you say your name was, fresh? I don’t think I’ve seen you in town before.”

  “Um, I didn’t say...” She stumbled for a moment. “My name’s Priya.” She turned away, hoping her lie wouldn’t show on her face. The lift passed a floor, and the view opened to a giant wooden platform that stretched across half the harbor. Aniri could see now why the harbor below was so dark. The flooring must have blocked much of the modest light from reaching the lower level… then she saw it: the skyship. Her mouth fell open.

  Karan followed her gaze. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

  The ship was docked on a lattice of iron beams. An enormous bag billowed above it. The boat wasn’t like any sea vessel she had seen, Dharian or Samirian, but it reminded her of the skiff stamped on her token—only instead of a dozen folding sails to capture the wind, the masts were turned sideways. It was like a beautiful fish with a dozen delicate fins all caressing the air with tiny, fluttering movements. In the balloon above, small waves running along the surface turned the sky-blue fabric shades darker and lighter with each ruffling pulse. The balloon offered little resistance to the waves, as if there wasn’t quite enough gas inside to stretch the brilliant fabric taut. Even if the ship had enough gas to lift itself, a cascade of rope ladders strapped to the sides held it firmly to the dock. But it wasn’t until Aniri looked up the full height of the skyship that she saw the most breathtaking part. Perched on top of the balloon was a giant golden butterfly… if a butterfly could have a multitude of wings each pivoting in different directions.

  Aniri blinked. “What is it?”

  Karan grinned and handed her out of the cage lift. “That’s your new job, freshness.”

  She frowned, then squinted at the device. Short figures climbed up and around the golden wings, like tiny insects flitting back and forth. The wings were the color of brass, and the workers seemed to be scrubbing them.

  Shiners. They were polishing the wings until they shone. And when the burnished metal caught a stray beam of light from the windows ringing the top of the airharbor, the wings gleamed with a brightness that hurt Aniri’s eyes.

  She blinked to clear them, then rubbed the spots away.

  Karan nodded. “Best not to look straight at the shiners while they work.”

 
; Aniri had to agree with that. There was more light on the skyship deck than down below, but it was still relatively dim—no doubt to keep everyone from going blind from the reflections. Not far above the skyship was the harbor’s ceiling. It was comprised of giant wooden beams that let in only cracks of light where the bright blue sky peeked between. Another strip of blue ran the length of the harbor. It took her a moment to realize that the seam marked the place where doors—enormous doors large enough for the skyship to exit through—met in the middle.

  Karan’s boots clanged on the girded metal walk as they neared the ship. The boarding plank was well guarded by two Samirians dressed in black and armed with polished steel blunderbusses. A slender man with a tall build and a trim, military-style jacket stood at the entrance as well, watching with a stern look as workers unloaded a large copper tube from the crane. They carried it across the gangplank, a bit unsteady in spite of their muscular arms. Aniri was afraid they might drop their cargo over the rail and down the hundred-foot drop to the harbor floor below. Their overseer must have thought the same thing because he only turned to face Aniri and Karan once the workers had reached the ship.

  “Morning, Captain,” Karan said, in the most polite and respectful voice Aniri had yet heard him use. “Have a new shiner for you. Flinch sent her straight up, said she would be of use to you up top.”

  The captain’s eyes were black as midnight and glistened with an unspoken danger that made her think of birds of prey. He looked down his long, sharp nose at her, his gaze lingering on her hands poking out from her overcoat. It made her shiver.

  “Take off your coat,” he said.

  “What?” Her heart seized, as much from his tone as his words.

  Karan turned to face her, his back to the captain. “It’s all right, fresh,” he said quietly. “He just wants to see if yer light enough for the job.”

  Aniri frowned, but quickly unbuttoned her overcoat and shrugged it off. Underneath, she still wore her hooded cloak. She hesitated. Her dagger was tucked safely at the small of her back, under her shirt, but her saber would be apparent as soon as she took off her cloak. The captain threw an impatient look at Karan, so she slipped out of her cloak as well. Karan took them both from her, his gaze not missing the large weapon strapped to her side. She kept her gloves and stood straight under the captain’s unnerving examination.

  Karan’s eyebrows were raised, looking back and forth between her and the captain. He spoke first. “Always come armed to work, do ye?”

  “I walked here this morning,” Aniri said. “Alone. It’s just for protection.” She had no idea if the villagers casually wore blades, but they were mountain people. It had to be reasonable to be armed. She hoped.

  “She will do.” The captain turned his attention to Karan. “Tinker, they’re having trouble installing the new boiler in the port engine. I’d like you to oversee it.”

  “Aye, sir,” Karan said. “Although Flinch is expecting me back.”

  The captain’s face twisted into a look of disgust. “He can spare you.”

  “Aye, sir,” Karan said again. Aniri was relieved when Karan took hold of her elbow and steered her away from the captain, past the gangplank, to one of the ropes that lashed the skyship to the metal girders that surrounded it. The ropes formed a taut ladder between the railing and the ship.

  “You’re a tinker?” Aniri asked quietly. “You said you worked the engines, not that you designed them.”

  Karan gave her a sly grin, then grabbed a pair of goggles from a hook by the ropes. “You’ll be needing these up top. And leave the sword here. Don’t want you slicing anything inadvertently up there.”

  “Maybe I could come work the engines with you instead?” Getting inside the ship seemed a much better way to see its capabilities, and she loathed the idea of leaving her father’s sword behind. “I’ve been known to do some tinkering myself,” she lied, hoping she could pull that role off convincingly.

  “Just make yerself useful on shiners, and you’ll get to come back. Maybe next shift we’ll see what you can do on engines.” He gave her a kind smile, but of course there wouldn’t be any next shift for her. She would be lucky to get out of this one without being caught. She hesitated, then unbuckled her saber and propped it against the rail. “I’ll leave it here until my shift is over.”

  Karan gave her a short nod and draped her jackets over the blade. “Now, up you go.”

  Aniri stared at the ladder—it was really just a series of ropes twisted together—and reminded herself that a fall from that height was no different from any other. She put the goggles on, but they were far too dark to see, so she pushed them up on her forehead.

  With a hand on the ropes, she stopped. “I wish I had some way to thank you for helping me.” And she meant it. She only hoped she could get through the shift and escape again without getting Karan in trouble.

  His smile was half-laugh. “Ye need to stop saying things like that, fresh.” He gestured to the crew working the skyship. “These are mostly sailors, ye see. They’d be happy to take you up on that offer.”

  Heat crawled up her neck, but it eased a little with his grin.

  “Up you go,” he said again with a nod to the ropes.

  She hoisted herself up on the rail and got a foot on the rope rungs of the ladder. It swayed and dipped under her weight, but mostly held taut between the skyship and the deck. Hand-over-hand she scaled the ladder, trying to ignore the drop below and telling herself she was lucky to be here and not on slurry mech duty.

  She was already halfway up when she heard Karan shout behind her. “You’re a right monkey, ye are!” But his voice faded against the whisperings of the fins and the breeze and the thrum of a distant pump.

  She had found the skyship; it was time to figure out what exactly it could do.

  Aniri took her time climbing up the rope ladder of the skyship, absorbing as many details of the ship as she could and trying to commit them to memory.

  The bow was encased in glass, and from the sailors’ movements inside, it appeared to be the bridge. The captain was there now, giving stern-looking orders she couldn’t hear from her perch on the ropes outside. A giant pipe rose from the gloomy depths, ran past the bow, and fed into the nose of the balloon. A steel cable ran from where the pipe joined the balloon, to the tip of the wooden platform above, to the dock below, and back to the nose again: it formed a triangle that held the pipe steady as it pumped navia gas from the slurry mech at the base of the harbor. Aniri was so fixated on the pipe, rippling the bag as it filled with gas, that she nearly missed her next handhold.

  She focused on the rope for the rest of the climb, finally alighting on the thin wooden platform at the top of the balloon. It covered half of the giant gasbag and supported the massive butterfly on top. She slipped her goggles over her eyes to keep the glints off the wings from blinding her. Through the darkened glass, she could see the other shiners moving amongst the wings. They all had dull gray cloths in their hands and rubbed furiously at any specks that dared touch the beautiful brass insect.

  The device was absolutely stunning. She had no idea what its purpose could possibly be, but she understood why the last thing Prince Malik wanted was to destroy it. Or any part of the skyship, for that matter.

  She shuffled closer to the workers—they were all slender and short, like her, some barely larger than children. A dozen boots lined the edge of the platform, and the workers’ bare feet balanced on the slender rods that held up the wings. The way the mechanical linkages were arranged, the butterfly must open and close like a flower, or perhaps each wing could rotate on its own. One young girl handed her a polishing cloth. Her dark hair was trapped beneath the strap of her goggles, but the long strands floated behind her in the constant breeze. She returned to her wing, climbing the linkages on the underside, careful not to touch the shining brass surface.

  Aniri kept her boots on—she needed to be ready for a quick exit. She pretended to polish an unattended wing while inspe
cting the device. The wings were turned in every direction for polishing, but their linkages clearly showed they were intended to all focus inward. She leaned over the wing, pretending to reach a spot on the far side. An enormous crystal, the size of her head, sat in the center where the butterfly’s body would be. The crystal had a thousand facets shaping it into a cone, only inverted—the flat part at the base of the wings and the point diving below the thin wooden platform. It seemed foolish to have something so sharp near the billowing fabric of the balloon, but as Aniri craned her neck to peer at it, she could see the crystal pointed down a darkened tube. She carefully stepped between the linkages, leaning over for a better look—

  “Hey!” a soft voice came close to her, making her jump. “You have the wrong cloth for polishing the crystal.”

  “I wasn’t...” Aniri stole a final glance at the tube: it went deep into the balloon, but that was all she could see. “I was just curious,” she finished, turning to find the same girl who had given her the cloth.

  A frown crinkled above her goggles. “If you touch it, we’ll all get in trouble. They won’t let us back on shiner duty.”

  Aniri ducked her head and worked her cloth in her hands. “I’m sorry.”

  The girl smiled. “Don’t let it worry ye. Everyone wants a peek. I bet the Queen, gods rest her soul, never seen a jewel so big.” She made a small bow, hands pressed together, as she said the Queen’s title.

  “No, probably not.” Aniri nearly tripped in her haste to return to her wing. She lightly ran her rag over the shimmering brass surface and studied its construction. The brass was just a thin coating over a wooden panel underneath. The linkages were the same light-colored wood with metal hinges and articulators that disappeared under the platform.

  It all looked so delicate, but she doubted its purpose was peaceful. Garesh wanted to bring Jungali to prominence through military might. The butterfly had to be some kind of weapon. Aniri pretended to adjust her goggles while eyeing the rest of the mechanism. Thoughts of sabotage tumbled through her mind. Could she do it? Maybe undo one of the hinges or take her dagger to the center crystal? Everything seemed to depend on a perfect state of polish. Maybe she could wreck Garesh’s plans by cracking the crystal or dragging the tip of her blade across the wings. Although she couldn’t be sure either of those would actually damage the weapon substantially.