“Give her a break,” Warehime said. “She’s new.” The old woman held out a hand for the journal. “Give it here, honey. I’ll let you use one of my spots.” Samra handed over the book and Warehime pressed the end of a board in the wall next to her hammock. The board popped loose and revealed a stash of other knickknacks squirreled away behind it. Warehime squeezed the journal inside, fit the board back into place and gave Samra a wink.
Landy walked into the cabin, elbowing past the others, and quickly began rooting through her belongings. When she turned around she had a knit cap in her hands that she proceeded to fit atop Samra’s head. She frowned at it. “You’ll need a lot more,” she muttered. She gestured to the blonde woman wearing the corset and knives. “Ylva, you see what you can do with her, will you? Captain says she wants her to not look like a greenie. Wants to pass her off as a cabin boy or something. Maybe you use some of your face kit on her?”
“What’s a cabin boy?” Samra asked, confused by the sudden attention.
Ylva stepped over with a bag of brushes and powders. Her own face was made up with rouge and lipstick, and her eyelids were a sky blue. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll at least make you a good-looking cabin boy. You’ve got cheek-bones to die for.”
When the ship lined up with the docks, Samra and the rest of the non-essential crew were on the main deck waiting in a row. Sunburn was busy tossing lines to the dockhands so Samra felt frightfully exposed to the eyes of the inspectors on the dock. She would have liked to hide behind him.
She was dressed in cast-off men’s clothing that was much too loose for her, but at least it covered her up. Only the tips of her fingertips protruded from the oversized shirtsleeves. Her hair was tucked into the cap and she was told that her face had been shaded some manner of dirty brown. She had also been instructed to wear the chain and lock around her waist to weigh her down and make her walk more like a Grounder. She didn’t especially love the sensation of heaviness the chain created and didn’t like that it was locked on, but the key she’d tied around her wrist made her feel a bit better about the situation.
She had only caught a brief reflection of herself in some of the brass on the way upstairs, since Ylva had already packed up her mirror, but she doubted she would have recognized herself anyway. Ylva had used what seemed like a bucketful of face powder on her and she had no idea what color she was anymore.
Once the ship was tied off, the gangplank was extended and the line of inspectors filed aboard. They each wore long coats down to their knees and brimmed hats to shade them from sun or possibly rain. It was neither raining nor sunny here in the shadow of the mountain, but their uniformity was unmarred by common sense.
An eager young man led the charge onto the deck and swept past Sunburn without a second glance. He immediately began pointing to holds. “Get these open. You have the manifests? He wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular, but as Samra did her best to seem invisible, Sunburn unfolded a sheet of numbers from his pocket and handed it over. The man scanned the sheet, then turned his nose up. “This is not to our standards. We’ll have to do our own count. Expect to be charged for the delay.”
“What delay?” Captain Savage had emerged from the cockpit and was making her way aft across the deck. The young man balked at the sight of her and let his eyes flit to one of the other inspectors stepping aboard. This man was twice his age with severe eyebrows that seemed intent on swallowing his eyes. His mustache was encroaching on his face from the other direction, making his small eyes and angular nose seem lost in the forest of gray.
“Captain Savage,” the man said. “Your arrival is most timely. You have quite a few people looking to speak to you at the moment.”
“They’ll have to wait,” Captain Savage replied. “We’re doing a quick turn. Offloading now, provisioning tonight, and gone again in the morning. We found an opportunity for a major haul and we don’t want to lose it.”
The man’s mouth contorted into what might conceivably be considered a smile, but his words were icy. “You haven’t heard then. I’m afraid you may have to reconsider your plans. The pod market is closing.”
“What? Why?”
“Your father has uncovered the wreck. He’s given the order to move every bit of pod stock we have out to the dig site tomorrow. We’re taking every ship that flies and every lift pod that’s not in structural use. Including these. You’ll get paid for what you brought in today, but rates are down to half. If your father indeed raises the wreck, I suspect they’ll be all but worthless afterward.”
Samra struggled to follow the conversation. How could globes ever be worthless?
“You’re devaluing the pods? We spent weeks harvesting this batch,” Captain Savage said.
“Then count yourself lucky that you came back today while they still have some value. Come next week, you might be selling them yourself to the ore miners to prop up their shanties. I’d take what you can get now and be happy with it. Especially in the financial condition you’re in.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Captain Savage spat.
“Ah. That’s the other bit of news you won’t have heard. Virgil Borgram is calling in all his loans. His men have been repossessing skyships and homes all week. If you haven’t paid him off yet, I’d make that your first stop. Otherwise his crew might be flying your ship out to the desert tomorrow instead of you.” The inspector waved the rest of his cohort over. “All right, search the ship. It’s going to be a busy night for Miss Savage. We’d best get her on her way.” He moved away and began directing his people down the hatches.
Captain Savage stood in the middle of the deck and fumed.
Samra waited as long as she could but her curiosity couldn’t be contained. “What did all that mean?”
The rest of the crew huddled a little closer to listen. Captain Savage finally brought her attention back to the people in front of her. “It means that if I don’t find a way to pay off this ship tonight, I’m going to lose it. You’re all about to be out of work.” She turned toward Samra. “And you won’t be going home.”
26
BORGRAM
“It’s blatant thievery and you’re not going to do this to me!” Captain Savage stood outside the banker’s cage and shouted. The attendant was a skinny little man with a greasy ponytail trailing over his collar. He was keeping his distance from the metal bars, perhaps worried the captain might reach through and throttle him. Samra felt that was probably a valid threat.
Samra and a few members of the crew had followed the captain across a shaky rope bridge to the reinforced facade built directly into the cliff wall. Each of them now had a stake in the fate of the Restless Fury.
The cavern opening had only one metal door and it was clear the attendant wasn’t about to open it. “We issued the notice weeks ago,” he murmured. “As per your contract. You had adequate warning about the loan terms.”
“I’ve been out harvesting. You know I haven’t been here to read any bank notices!”
“Be that as it may, Miss Savage, Borgram’s bank is still within its right to request the funds. We’ve adjusted your interest costs to account for the early termination but you still have quite an outstanding sum. Ten thousand marks.”
“I want to talk to Borgram. Where is he?”
“Mr. Borgram isn’t here at the moment. If you would like to leave a message—”
Captain Savage had her arms through the bars so quickly that Samra barely had time to see the whip. It lashed out and wrapped around the banker’s neck and she used it to haul him closer. When he stumbled forward, she grasped his shirt with her other hand and yanked him the rest of the way to the bars.
“I’ll ask you one more time,” she hissed. “Borgram. Where is he?”
The banker coughed and tugged the whip away from his throat. “He’s—he’s on the jump ship. He’s betting the rope fall.”
Captain Savage ripped the whip back through the bars and left the banker sputtering in her wake. She turned bac
k to the group and muttered curses under her breath. She looked up to get her bearings, then pointed the coiled whip toward the far side of the valley. “We’ll have to hike the bridges or find a skiff to give us a ride out there. The Fury isn’t an option.”
Ylva had her hands on her hips. “I’ve still got a few friends in this town. I can find us a lift.”
Captain Savage nodded. “Good. As long as they know we can’t pay them. We need every mark we’ve got left.”
While Ylva walked off to find them a ride, the rest of the crew lingered in the shadow of a dingy inn. Its various rooms were hollowed into the rock face but appeared to be mostly empty. It seemed the majority of the residents preferred the safety of the open air to the crumbling mountainside. Samra didn’t blame them.
“We might be able to pool our money, pitch in for the loan ourselves,” Landy said. The crew was down to her, Sunburn and Cogs. Warehime had shuffled off to visit her grandchildren, while Wallace, Hodges, and Wade had made straight for the taverns.
“It won’t be enough,” Captain Savage said. “Even if I sold each of you shares in the Fury, I doubt we could pool that much. I know how much I pay you, and I’ve seen how you all spend it in port.”
“Warehime might have a stash somewhere,” Cogs mused. “She never goes in for the gambling and drink when she’s aground.”
“She gives it to her daughter to raise her kid,” Landy said. “You know that.”
“Hmm. That’s true.” Cogs tapped his foot, apparently out of ideas.
“We know anyone else in town who likes us enough to give us a loan?” Sunburn asked.
“No one who isn’t indebted to Borgram themselves and probably just as badly off,” Captain Savage replied.
“Do you think you could ask your father for—” Landy cut herself off after the glare from Captain Savage. “Sorry, just thinking out loud.”
Captain Savage crossed her arms. “Believe me, if I thought there was any chance of him donating so much as a mark, I’d try. But that bridge was burned a long time ago.”
The group lapsed into silence until a single envelope skiff bobbed up from somewhere below containing Ylva and a smitten-looking young man with shaggy hair and an optimistic but sparce goatee.
“Micah here said he’d be happy to give us a ride to the rope drop.”
“For free, right?” the captain asked.
“Just enjoying the pleasurable company, ma’am,” Micah responded. He grinned and pulled the skiff up to the dock so the group could step aboard. A few moments later, they were whizzing away toward the far side of the valley.
Samra couldn’t help but be amazed at the complexity and efficiency of the Grounder machines. Aboard the patch, there had never been anything so heavy as a propeller motor. The Grounders seemed to have made up for the extra weight through ingenious use of wings on their craft and dispersing the buoyancy pods carefully throughout the lightweight, rigid frames.
The metal was a miracle all its own. Samra had seen metal down in Womble, but it was relatively rare. Here the finely worked material was everywhere, and the population was putting it to good use.
She looked up as they passed an especially elaborate cluster of lift pods. High up top was a structure with wide landings and broad glass windows. It wasn’t a ship. It was much too bulky and would present nothing but flat planes and hard angles to the wind, but it was beautiful.
“What’s that?” Samra pointed out the structure to Landy.
“That’s the Library of Knowledge. It’s where the high families keep the relics.”
“Like a school?”
“Sort of,” Landy replied.
“Is that where you learned to fly?”
“Me? Psshh. I couldn’t afford to learn there. None of us can. I got my training from Captain Savage. Paid for it out of my wages.”
“Why did you have to pay for it? Doesn’t she need a pilot?”
“Yeah, but that’s the law. If you can’t show you paid for what you know, you’ll get charged with knowledge theft. They’ll send you to the mines.”
“What about me?” Samra asked. “I didn’t pay anything to learn to fly the Fury. Am I a knowledge thief?”
“If the captain teaches you something, you can bet she’s keeping track of the cost. You always pay the price, kid. Sooner or later.”
The skiff bobbed its way around the floating pod city and approached the south end of the valley. Samra had a better view of the sandfalls leaking out of the rock face. The cliff itself was enormous, even taller than the other sides of the valley. It went on and on into the sky to where she had to squint to see the top. The jump ship was still hovering over the chasm beneath the falls. The various streams of sand leaking out of the mountainside had carved grooves into the rock over the centuries and then cascaded downward, hollowing out sections of crust below till it was pockmarked and porous like a honeycomb. The rope from the ship was dangling down the largest and blackest hole and she couldn’t see where it ended.
Samra stood next to Sunburn and leaned over the railing of the skiff. “Why doesn’t the sand fill up the hole?”
“There’s a river down there. Deep underground. It carries it away,” Sunburn replied.
Samra studied the spurts of sand being pushed over the edges of the falls. Higher up, there was another large opening in the cliff similar to the one they had flown the Restless Fury through, and airships were coming and going through the opening, but down at this level there were just a dozen or so smaller holes leaking sand. Many of the holes were augmented with Grounder architecture. Braces and beams kept the tunnels from collapsing and let the sand pass unimpeded. “Where’s it all coming from?”
“On the far side of this mountain range is the High Somorian Desert,” Sunburn said. “The sand storms push the dunes up against it and over time it leaks in. The mountain is full of pits and caverns. The desert winds blow hardest during the day and push it through. Most of the crevices inside the mountain are already brimming with sand, but we make sure to keep the main tunnel open. We use it to navigate out to the desert. We call this the Storm Gate.”
Samra tried to count all the holes. “Seems like a dangerous way to get through a mountain. What if it falls on top of you? Why would anyone risk that?”
Sunburn smiled. “I suppose it depends on what you find on the other side.”
Micah pulled the skiff up to a dock suspended from one of the pod clusters near the rope fall ship. Multiple airships had moored themselves together here and slung bridges between decks to traverse them. Airmen and townspeople were mingling on the decks and watching the spectacle. The crowds were thickest near the rails overlooking the pit.
“Borgram is here somewhere,” Captain Savage said. “Probably with whoever’s winning the most money.”
“I see Admiral Orloff’s ship,” Sunburn said, and pointed to a gleaming vessel decked out in burgundy canvas. “He’s the biggest gambler in town.”
They made their way through the crowds, crossing bridges and narrow gangplanks between ships. Samra noticed that not all of the locals walked with the confidence of the Fury’s crew. Many people sported belts, fashionable or otherwise, that included leashes that they could use to tether themselves to safety. Samra had noticed that the crew of the Fury frequently tethered their tools and weapons to themselves in an effort not to lose them but she hadn’t noticed them needing additional help getting around. With the weight of the chain around her waist making walking a heavier experience, she had a newfound respect for their balance and confidence, especially considering the long drop below them.
“I see him,” Landy said. “He’s aboard the Wind Devil.” She gestured toward a cluster of people near a huge winch on the main ship.
The ship dangling the rope had a wide deck with multiple levels. The lowest was teeming with the public, but other, higher tiers offered more private views of the entertainment. Across the chasm, more ships were outfitted with balconies and terraces to provide prime viewing.
/> As Samra and the crew of the Fury forced their way through the crowd, she spotted the next group of jumpers lingering near a ladder on an upper deck. A few of them were waiting calmly in specially designed jumpsuits or testing out various accessories like extendable fabric wings under their arms. Others didn’t look nearly so optimistic. A pair of desperate-looking men stood clutching rough poles with hooks on the end and squeezing them so tightly their knuckles were white. One man was nervously knotting and unknotting the tether cord to his hook, muttering to himself all the while.
The crowd around them gave a shout, and Samra just had time to glimpse the individuals leaping off a jump deck high overhead. The quintet of jumpers fell from their place in the rigging and plummeted straight through the bottom of the ship. The energy of the crowd made Samra’s skin tingle. Their enthusiasm was kinetic.
When Samra finally got through the throng to Sunburn and the rest of the crew, she found them fanned out behind the captain, who was facing a ponderous man in a bulging waistcoat seated near the opening for the rope hoist. A hole had been designed into the bottom of the ship so that the giant winch in the rigging could spool the colored rope directly through the center. A pair of sooty-looking men were standing at the winch motor, but weren’t currently operating it. The crowd was instead waiting breathlessly while watching the rope. The section of rope exposed in the hole was white, and as the crowd watched, it gave a quiver.
The audience whooped. A few people laughed and referenced an elaborate clock secured to the ship’s central spar.
“Borgram,” Captain Savage shouted across the opening of the hole. “We need to talk.”
The big man in the waistcoat glanced up from his seat and looked for the speaker, but when he saw the captain he merely frowned. His eyes went back to the rope. After what seemed to Samra like an impossibly long time, it gave another quiver and the crowd cheered. A third and fourth quiver went through the rope immediately after and the onlookers cheered again.
Faster Than Falling: The Skylighter Adventures Page 24
