Seafire

by Natalie C. Parker

  Caledonia forced herself to take a full breath before she answered again. “No trouble, we just have somewhere else to be.” And she intended to be long gone before any of Aric’s fleet sought her here.

  “Very good. That’s all my questions. Thank you for your candid answers,” he said, clasping his hands before him expectantly.

  “So,” Caledonia began, “how do we get in?”

  “Oh! You don’t just yet. There’s still the matter of payment for your journey. Trade or coin. Both are acceptable. But notes of service are no longer legal tender in Cloudbreak by order of the Sly King.”

  “We can pay. How much?” Caledonia asked, trying to strike a balance between nonchalance and irritation.

  Clag studied her, a devious gleam in his pale blue eyes. “Well, that all depends. Are you pleased with the service?”

  “Yes,” Caledonia answered with caution.

  “Good. Then, whatever you think is fair.”

  Fair? The last time they’d made this journey, the price had been set. And her cargo less precious. As the pallet swayed in mid-air, Caledonia reached inside her coat and withdrew the very small amount of Silt they’d stripped from the barge. Small, but valuable.

  She held out a single casing, its bright orange color leaving no doubt as to what it was. Or where it came from. Clag’s eyebrows rose with interest.

  “How many?” he asked.

  “Six doses. Pure. Straight from the Bullet fleet.”

  “Six, hm. Throw it over.”

  Caledonia hesitated for just a breath. The pallet swayed again, ropes protesting with a tinny shriek. He could take the doses and drop them or take the doses and demand more. She had no leverage here. And no choice. She tied the leather cord tight around the small bag, then tossed it into Clag’s waiting hand.

  Now Clag pulled a small notebook from his back pocket. He flipped through for a few moments, pointer finger running quickly down each page. Finally, he tapped a page three times, then snapped the book shut. “So nice meeting you,” he said. He waggled his fingers in front of that endlessly cheerful smile. Without another word, he pulled a cord hidden just inside the tunnel and turned to leave.

  Before Caledonia could speak again, the pallet gave way beneath them.

  And they fell.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  They hit something hard but continued to fall. Their bodies slid and scraped over stone, and all around them echoed Pisces’s cries. When they landed one long minute later, their legs were too soft to support them. All except for Amina, who landed lightly on her feet, braids spooling around her body.

  Caledonia pushed herself to standing, eyes searching out every entrance to the small chamber in which they now found themselves. The room was a roughly hewn cave with a small tunnel to their right, another to their left, and a larger one directly ahead. Above them was the hole through which they’d fallen, and as Caledonia craned her neck to see the top, the thin stream of light that had followed them down dried up. Doubtless, there’d been a trapdoor waiting just beneath their pallet to catch them as they fell.

  A warning would have been nice, Caledonia thought grimly.

  Amina pulled Pisces carefully to her feet, brushing gentle hands over the feverish girl’s cheeks while Redtooth shouldered two of the sacks and Caledonia investigated each of the tunnels.

  “There’s a murmur in this one,” she said, pointing down the largest of the three. “Sounds like town.”

  “Oh, good, on your feet already.” Clag’s cheerful voice came from behind, surprising them all. He emerged from one of the smaller tunnels, looking pleased but unsurprised to find they’d all made the drop. “My apologies for the delay. Takes a bit of time to get down all those stairs.”

  “Apologies for the delay?” Amina took a step toward the man, and while his smile stayed firmly in place, his right leg gave an involuntary flinch.

  “Been a while since you’ve come to port, has it? Yes, the drop can be startling, but I’m sure you understand it’s a necessary security precaution. Can’t just have people pushing their way off the lifts without a proper interview anymore. It’s the cost of keeping our little town safe for business.”

  “You could have killed us,” Caledonia protested.

  But Clag only chuckled, shaking his head. “Nonsense. It’s not even gusty today, and physics is a good friend if you know what you’re doing. Now, I’ve come to give you your tokens,” he said, producing four blue chips marked with a sequence of five numbers. He moved around the room, dropping them one at a time into each of their hands. “Trips down are complimentary, but only with the token.”

  “If they’re complimentary, why do we need a token?” asked Amina.

  Clag smiled a knowing smile. “We just like to know who’s come and gone, that’s all. It has no value for trade, but keep it on you.”

  Somewhere in the tunnels, a bell rang. Clag perked up, stepping across the room toward the tunnel opposite the one he’d come through. He moved silently, Caledonia noticed now, completely at home in what must be a network of tunnels and stairways and trapdoors for each lift they’d seen on the beach below.

  When he reached the threshold, he paused. Sighed. Turned back to Caledonia. He was still cheerful, but something of his demeanor had changed. “I’m not supposed to do this sort of thing, but . . .” He looked over Caledonia’s shoulder where Pisces stood. “The doc you want is named Tricius. She’s in the Body Quarter. She’ll get you right. And she won’t take a pound of flesh to get you there.”

  “Thank you, Clag,” said Caledonia. But Clag only shook his head and turned swiftly into the tunnel, muttering something about soft hearts and hard worlds.

  Pisces was slumped against the cave wall when Caledonia turned to look. And suddenly she knew exactly what had spurred Clag to generosity. Pisces’s skin was a pale gray-brown, devoid of its usual sunny tones, and the sweat on her brow now covered her entire face.

  Swiftly, Caledonia swung her sack over one shoulder, propping her friend up with the other. Amina and Redtooth flanked them, and together they moved as quickly as Pisces’s leeching strength would allow.

  “Almost there,” Caledonia spoke softly to her friend, hoping it wasn’t a lie. “Just hold on to me. We’ll find this Doc Tricius in no time.”

  “I’m fine, Cala,” Pisces said in a breathy voice. But her arm curled across Caledonia’s shoulders and she leaned close, steps increasingly clumsy.

  The tunnel was blessedly short, and soon the four girls found themselves at the mouth of a teeming market situated in a ravine with mountain peaks rising on all sides. Perched above it all, a stronghold of overlapping concentric circles sat high on the southern wall. Before them, stalls of every size sprawled in a chaotic press. They were wedged together in whatever space was available, flying flags or streamers or painted metal shields to attract attention. The cold air was spiked with the scents of roasting nuts and spiced meats and filled with the cries of vendors hawking their wares. In every direction, they were met with a flood of people navigating the haphazard paths between stalls. The whole thing seemed to operate on some internal logic that was completely foreign to the girls.

  Red cursed. Pisces drooped. And Amina vanished.

  Caledonia held tightly to Pisces. She studied the flow of traffic before her, certain that if she could just find something that looked like a main artery, they would manage. The longer she watched, the less certain she became. This place was designed to disorient, to put newcomers off their balance and keep them there.

  Amina was back in moments, a small girl trailing in her wake. She was young, only thirteen at most, with beautiful scrolling scars over the tan skin of her left cheek and forehead. Her hair was a glossy black, tied up in multicolored rags that fluttered lightly as she walked. Right away Caledonia marked how her eyes darted over the three of them and the easy way she strolled in this unsettling din
with hands in pockets. She was wiser than her years might suggest, of that Caledonia was certain.

  “Ladies,” Amina said. Standing beside her, the girl smiled. “This is Nettle. I’ve engaged her to be our guide.”

  “You won’t find better.” Nettle’s voice was still young, clinging to the higher notes like cresting waves. Her vowels bent over the ends of her words, softening and stunting them in a way that reminded Caledonia of Amina’s own accent. “I know every inch of this place.”

  “You’re just a child.” Shifting her attention from the girl to Amina, Redtooth repeated. “She’s just a child.”

  “You’re hardly more than that.” Nettle shrugged. “I understand you’re looking for Doc Tricius. This way.”

  Without waiting for approval, Nettle stepped into the flow of the crowd.

  “How do we know she’ll take us to the right place?” Redtooth asked when Nettle was out of earshot.

  “Never underestimate the girls of this world,” Amina chided, stepping out in front.

  Nettle was easy enough to track. Though she was short, her multicolored hair ties shone brightly in the crowd. She led them on a seemingly random path through the shop fronts, occasionally cutting down an alley so narrow none of the girls would have considered it a path. The smell of spicy meats, sweet stewed plums, and fresh bread made Caledonia’s mouth water. She was tempted to stop and spend some of their precious coin on a quick meal for all of them, but the looks she caught from the crowd encouraged her to keep moving. Most watched Pisces with a wary eye, sure she carried the fire or some other disease. But others looked on the four young girls with a hunger that set Caledonia’s teeth on edge.

  Nettle moved at a quick clip but always seemed aware of where they were, pausing to let them catch up if she got too far out in front. The crowd spoke and shouted in a handful of different languages, some Caledonia recognized, others she didn’t. The people were grizzled and cautious, but none bore the orange bands of a Bullet’s bandolier. At least not where it would be seen. The only identifying marks were the men and women in short, black capes, the shoulders studded with the cerulean blue bands of the Sly King. When they passed, people made room, held up their stall permits, or ducked between shops to avoid them. The presence of the Sly King was strong and not entirely welcoming.

  On either side, vendors sold everything a person could possibly desire. There were furs in a variety of colors from the brightest fuchsia to inky black, salted meats perfectly prepared for long hauls at sea, solar tech, gunpowder, ropes and netting, and origin seeds guaranteed to sprout. At first, Caledonia tried to mark the vendors they might return to later, but the farther they went the less possible that became. Even as they passed, the streets were changing. One vendor would just as quickly close down their makeshift stall as another would set up without a care for the flow of traffic. Caledonia would simply have to trust that if Nettle knew enough to get them to Doc Tricius, she also knew where to find the other goods they needed.

  It had been nearly an hour by the time they stopped. Pisces’s pace decreased rapidly, and even with Amina shouldering Caledonia’s pack, it was slow going through the crowd. Finally, Nettle stopped in front of a medium-sized tent.

  The Body Quarter was less overwhelming than the main market, with fewer open stalls and more closed tents. Here, the tent flaps were marked with simple paintings of the services available inside. Their path took them down a row of ornamental workers offering tattoos and scars and piercings, to one of pleasure workers, and finally to the healers. Most advertised the part of the anatomy they specialized in treating with a rough drawing of a foot or head or belly posted somewhere on the tent. But the flap of this tent was closed and painted only with the shape of a serpent wrapped around a staff. Above it, blocky red letters spelled out the name TRICIUS.

  “I’m a girl of my word,” Nettle said proudly, holding a hand toward the tent.

  There was no bell, no means of announcing one’s presence, so Caledonia pushed through the tent flap with a wilting Pisces leaning heavily into her body.

  “Hello? Doctor Tricius?” she called, but the question was unnecessary.

  The space was as small as it seemed from the outside and smelled strongly of dry, minty herbs. On one side of the room was a raised bed, on the other a narrow bench and work table near a chest containing dozens of tiny drawers. It was the first thing Caledonia had seen in the whole market that looked somewhat permanent.

  As they entered, a woman stood up from the bench. Her skin was a cool, shadowed ochre with a wide scatter of freckles across her face. Her brown hair, twisted and piled neatly atop her head, was threaded with silver cords. She met them with an easy smile but didn’t rush forward to greet them.

  “Do all of you need attention?” she asked, voice kind.

  It was only then that Caledonia realized Redtooth had followed them inside the tent and stood hovering behind Pisces’s other shoulder, one protective hand supporting her elbow.

  “Just her,” Caledonia said. “Pisces.”

  “Can you pay?” was her next question. “I don’t do trade. Coin only.”

  “We can pay.” Coin carried the least amount of value amongst her crew. Their opportunities for trade were limited, and most places that used coin were in Aric’s pocket. But they kept a little for occasions such as this.

  “Are you coherent?” Doc Tricius asked Pisces.

  “I am. Just wounded.”

  Doc Tricius nodded at Caledonia. “Help her to the bed, and then you and your friend can wait outside.” She was already returning to her work table, uncapping a bottle of alcohol and smoothing the acrid liquid over her hands.

  “She needs antibios. Do you have them? We can pay extra,” Caledonia said.

  “I’ll decide what she needs,” Doc Tricius all but snapped. “Now, you and your friend wait outside.”

  Caledonia did as instructed, pushing a reluctant Redtooth through the tent flap ahead of her. They found Amina outside, keeping watch over the slow shuffle of traffic, one hand ready on her gun. Nettle stood at her elbow, close but not touching, her eyes wide.

  “You’re the captain of your own ship?” the girl said eagerly to Caledonia.

  “I am.” Caledonia peered at the clouded sky, but it was impossible to gauge the progress of the sun. It had to be nearing midday by now. Splitting up wasn’t ideal, but it had become necessary. “Doc will tend to Pisces, but we need to keep moving. Red, you stay here. Wait for Pi, and when she’s done, you get back to the lifts and wait for us there. Clear?”

  “Clear,” Red answered.

  “Amina, you’re with me,” Caledonia continued. “Nettle, we need to work fast. We need seaworthy food, gun tech, and—Amina?”

  “Batteries, magnesium or air-breathers would do. Solid-state lithiums if you know where to find them.”

  “Solid-states aren’t easy to come by.” Nettle’s smile morphed into a grin. “But I might know a guy.”

  “Might?” Redtooth stooped and pushed her nose against Nettle’s. “You want me to help you be sure? I’m certain my friend already paid you to be sure.”

  Nettle took a purposeful step back. “You paid me to be your guide. You want privileged introductions, that’s a separate fee.”

  Before Redtooth could advance on the girl again, Caledonia put a staying hand on her friend’s shoulder. Though she was just as irritated, she had to admire the girl’s gumption. It couldn’t be easy to face three armed girls and demand more than she’d been offered. And if there was one thing Caledonia always admired, it was a girl with guts.

  “Name your price,” Caledonia said.

  “I’ll make the introductions . . . and in exchange you give me a spot on your ship with your crew.”

  “Off the table,” Caledonia said immediately. “I’m not taking on more crew at the moment. Especially not crew too small to swing a blade.”

&nbs
p; Outrage blazed in Nettle’s eyes at the insult, but she didn’t rise to the bait. Forcing a casual smile, she folded her arms across her chest and stood her ground. “I know some people who’ll give you good trades for air-breather batteries. I can take you there right now if you like.”

  This was a familiar game. Some other time, Caledonia might enjoy playing it, but now wasn’t that time. She pulled another small pouch from inside her jacket and gave it a good shake so Nettle was sure to hear how much coin it contained.

  “I’m not taking on more girls right now, but I like you. We need solid-states. Lead us true and next time I dock in Cloudbreak, we’ll talk.”

  Nettle’s gaze never strayed to the pouch. She kept her focus on Caledonia, considering and unflinching. It was impressive.

  “We’ll talk about a spot on your crew,” Nettle confirmed, and when Caledonia nodded, Nettle swiped the pouch of coin from Caledonia’s grip. “Deal.”

  Shouldering their packs once more, Caledonia and Amina left Redtooth to wait for Pisces and followed Nettle back into the crowd. It was slower going with two of the large packs balanced on their shoulders, and more than once Caledonia envied Redtooth her immense strength, especially when she was jostled from one side of the row to the other.

  In spite of the damp cold, sweat soon dripped from Caledonia’s temples and down her back. The ground became steeper as Nettle directed them due south, where the paths turned into something more like roads and the structures on either side gradually transformed from temporary stalls to buildings of wood and stone. Here, the people around them seemed less hectic, and more wore the glassy blue of the Sly King’s banner. High on the hill above them sat the stronghold of Hesperus himself. Caledonia bristled at being so close to the seat of power, but if this was where the deal was to be made, she’d make it fast.

  “This is it!” Nettle jogged ahead, climbing a set of stairs and disappearing inside a stone building jutting out of the mountainside with four hewn columns caging it in. The door in the center gaped wide, the room beyond lit from within by flickering candles.