“Details,” Cogs replied. “Always a decent man or woman about who don’t mind spotting a hard-working sailor a bit of ale. Just got to find yourself a generous one. Like young Samson here.” He looked to Samra.
“It’s Samra,” she replied. “And I’m out of money now.”
“Ah. So you are,” Cogs replied. “Would have liked if you could have saved a mark or two for your own crew mates.”
Sunburn smiled and shook his head.
Samra put her hands in her pockets and Cogs wandered over to slump against the wall. She liked that he’d referred to her as part of the crew. He might not have much else in the way of charm, but he’d at least welcomed her into the group.
It was nearly an hour till the captain reappeared. The night had grown dark and, in the meantime, more and more guests had arrived at the library. Some brought skiffs or their entire ships. Others came up the way Samra and the crew had arrived. They exited the elevator, careful to not spend much time looking at the ruffians on the landing, and proceeded inside.
The guests were mostly elegant couples, though more than a few single men and women arrived as well. Most were wearing well-tailored clothing. Brightly colored dresses were standard for the women, with scarves and elbow-length gloves. The men arrived in vests and jackets with shiny buttons and fancy ties around their collars. Few wore hats, but many women used their scarves to cover their hair until they could get inside and out of the wind.
When the captain returned, she was quiet, her mind elsewhere. She gestured to Sunburn and Cogs, not seeming to notice Landy’s absence. “One of you has to be my date for the evening, it seems. Otherwise I’m going to be swamped by a bunch of my father’s miserable friends trying to court me and get in his good graces. Either of you know how to dance?”
Cogs brightened. “I know the grab-a-bottom two-step. Do they do that one up here?”
The captain simply turned to Sunburn.
“I can manage a simple waltz or two,” Sunburn said.
“That’ll do. I only need an excuse to turn down other offers.” She addressed Cogs. “Head back to the Fury. Make sure no one tampers with our cargo. We need it fit to fly at first light.”
Cogs’s face fell a bit. “So no dancin’?”
The captain pulled a coin from her pocket and tossed it to him. “You can buy yourself a bottle of ale on the way back and drink it aboard the ship while you stand watch, but no lingering around the taverns on the way.” She held up a finger. “Just one bottle. I want you alert when I get back.”
Cogs waved the coin and bobbed his head. “Aye, Captain.” His spirits were clearly lifted. He inspected the coin on his way toward the elevator. “One big bottle . . .”
“What about me?” Samra asked.
“You’re coming with me,” the captain replied. “You can be my bodyguard.”
Samra grinned.
When the captain led them through the gate, they were met by a servant in a long-tailed jacket. “Miles, I need you to find Mr. McGuire a jacket to wear. See if you can commandeer something from one of the guest suites.” The servant nodded to Sunburn and led him away down a hallway.
“Mr. McGuire?” Samra asked. “That’s his real name?”
“Connor McGuire,” the captain replied.
“So someone remembers his real name after all.”
“Of course I do. I’m the captain.”
Samra followed Captain Savage to a wing of the floating library featuring a number of rooms for guests. It boasted intricate metalwork of a thin, lightweight variety Samra had never seen before. She wanted to ask the captain how it was made but they reached their destination too quickly. The captain shuttled her into a rectangular room full of mirrors. Dresses and wraps hung on rails in a row and two servants were chitchatting in the corner. They sprang to attention when Captain Savage walked in.
“Why, Miss Erin, we didn’t expect to see you here tonight. The party’s already started.”
“Then you’ll have no excuse to dawdle,” the captain said. “Father will be furious if I miss his speech. We need to get ready for this event quickly.”
“We?” the older of the two servants asked. She looked at Samra over half-moon spectacles. “Are we also meant to dress this creature?”
Captain Savage straightened up. “This is Samra. She’s part of my crew. You’ll treat her with the same respect you give me.” The two women shared a glance with one another. “In fact I’d suggest you treat her better than you treat me, since I already know how I rank in your estimation.”
“Why, that’s a terrible thing to say,” the younger woman replied, and lifted her skirts to walk closer. “You know we hold you in the highest regard, Miss Savage.”
“You can save your breath, Alora. Just make us look presentable as quickly as you can and you can get back to your gossiping.”
Alora’s mouth tightened into a line, but she didn’t say anything else. Instead she picked up a kit of supplies and turned to face Samra. “Well, let’s see if we can’t turn you into something a little less savage,” she muttered.
When Samra emerged from the room, she couldn’t even say all that had happened to her. She wasn’t dressed as a boy anymore, that was certain. She’d been outfitted in a light blue dress meant to complement her yellow-green skin tone and her hair was formed and twisted into a complex ball atop her head. What few strands escaped this fate had been curled and tugged at and arranged to perfection at the sides of her face.
Her face itself had also been remade, removing the previous layer of color and contour Ylva had provided, and replacing it with newer and lighter colors that she was informed would bring out her natural radiance. She was then told not to touch anything.
She didn’t feel radiant. She felt heavy.
The women had tried in vain to free her from the chain around her waist, insisting that it would ruin everything about her outfit. Despite calling in help, however, they were informed that no tools for removing locks or cutting chains were to be found anywhere on the library grounds, especially not at this late stage with a party already beginning. So after attempting an abundance of soap, lotions and painful, old-fashioned squeezing, the duo admitted defeat and simply decided to cover up the bulge at her waist with an even bulgier dress.
The outfit featured a sash and bow at the waist, a wrap for her shoulders, and long gloves for her arms, and, by the end, the two women looked at each other and admitted that she was in fact quite lovely, despite being a Skylighter.
The captain had kept her mouth shut during this whole ordeal, so Samra followed her example. The captain had selected her own outfit, a simple black dress with shoes that latched around her ankle. To this she had added a thin gold necklace and a matching bracelet. She had cleaned up and permitted the ladies to arrange her hair, but she applied her own make-up, declined gloves, and was ready by the time Samra’s transformation was complete.
The captain strode out of the room with the same expression she had on going in, and Samra tried to exude the same confidence, despite feeling entirely unlike herself.
They made their way into the center of the floating tower and crossed a bridge to the main building. When they walked into the heart of the library, Samra had to take a breath.
It was beautiful.
Colored panes of glass formed intricate geometric patterns across the ceiling. Even without sunlight to illuminate them, the windows were exquisite.
The walls of the library held hundreds of miniature alcoves, most of them full of shiny cubes.
A dance floor was suspended a foot or two above the rest of the room, but no one was using it. People milled around the perimeter instead, drinking from thin glasses and tasting bits of food passed around on trays. Nearby conversations muted themselves as Samra and Captain Savage walked in, and various sets of eyes turned their direction.
Samra quickly scanned the room for Sunburn, but the big man wasn’t in sight. She could use the assurance of his smile at the moment. Captain Savage
was also searching the room, but was forced to greet a contingent of young men that approached her from the dance floor.
Samra listened to the captain deflect small talk for a few minutes before losing interest. None of the men even commented about her presence, and while the women in the vicinity gave her plenty of sideways glances, none approached to speak with her.
Finally, a bell rang and the musicians in the corner of the room ceased playing. A man stepped up to the dance floor. He was wearing a white tie and gloves. He addressed the crowd in a commanding voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention, please. I’d like to present to you the man of the hour, our gracious host, Lord Marlow Savage.”
Samra stretched to peer over the shoulders of the people ahead of her as the crowd applauded. Murmurs rippled through the room as a man stepped up to the wooden dance floor from the far side of the room.
He was different than Samra expected. She somehow thought Lord Savage would be an older, possibly angrier version of Eric Savage, but that was not the case. Eric was boyish and handsome with an impish grin and laughing eyes. He dressed smartly and seemed to relish his appearance. This man, while finely dressed, didn’t seem like he fit the clothes at all. They were tailored to his dimensions, but Samra thought he was the sort of man you’d find building a house with his bare hands or hauling great hay bales across a field the way Grounders sometimes did in Womble during the festivals. He had a bushy beard that fell all the way past his collar and rested on his broad chest, and thick unruly eyebrows. His hands looked like they were better used for swinging an axe or digging with a shovel than holding a delicate drink. Samra had a hard time imagining Eric with hands like that.
The most unusual feature of the man was his jewelry. Around his neck, Lord Savage was wearing not one or two, but dozens of necklaces. Each one was a cord or chain with a triangular pendant on the end. The pendants appeared to be made mostly of stone. A few were metal. Samra couldn’t help but wonder how heavy they all were piled together around the man’s neck. She couldn’t imagine hauling around such an oppressive weight all day.
Marlow Savage shuffled to the center of the dance floor and looked around with eyes that seemed ready to judge every figure in the room.
“Well, I’ve done it,” he declared. “I said I would. I’ve found the wreck of our ancestors’ ship.” He pulled a paper scroll from his coat pocket and held it up. It was a map with a lot of scribbles on it and a broad red X near one side. Samra noticed glistening metal rings on the man’s thick fingers. He seemed to be organizing his thoughts. When he spoke again it was more slowly. “My . . . our search is over. After generations adrift on this infernal, deadly world, we’ll finally have the answers we seek, and will be rewarded with the truth.” He chewed at a bit of his beard that kept getting in his mouth.
His eyes were wild. Samra thought he looked out of place here. The thick coat he wore made him look like a bear. Not a creature she expected to find at a party.
“A long time ago, our people journeyed to this place from another world. The Old World. Presumably to give us a better life. Couldn’t have known what this place was really like. Or maybe they did. But tomorrow we’ll unearth their true gift to us.”
He spun in a slow circle, searching the faces in the crowd. His eyes found Captain Savage, then rested briefly on Samra. She felt like he was looking straight through her. His gaze flicked back to Captain Savage, however, then drifted around the room. “The proud family of Savage, and the other families present tonight, rose to our ancestors’ challenge. We’ve carved out a new life on this brutal world.” He held up a clenched fist. “We’ve reshaped its dangers and bent them to our bidding.
“We’ve faced rockslides and tremors—and still built mines. We’ve battled the winged terrors of the night intent on devouring us, but learned their weaknesses and built ourselves a city of light. We’ve survived. Not only have we survived, but we’ve thrived! We took the knowledge given to us by our ancestors, preserved in these relics they left behind, and constructed the greatest city on the face of Altiria.
He held out his arms. “We are the owners of this world.”
The crowd applauded again, and he paced back and forth on the floor. Samra couldn’t help but think he looked unhappy. Even in the midst of his victory speech, his expression seemed to waver on the brink of rage. He thundered across the floor, feet stomping, but seemed to have no destination.
“Tomorrow morning, we’re going to bring our city home. We’ll harness the power of flight we’ve gained and use it to resurrect the vessel of our ancestors’ mission. I believe that once we do, we’ll learn the final secrets of our history that have eluded us. Its sciences. Its weapons. Its mysteries. We can learn how they traveled across the stars. We’ll know how to escape this—”
“We’ll be as powerful as the old gods!” A shout emanated from the back of the room. “And what a glorious new future we will build together.”
Marlow Savage looked up, seemingly irritated at the interruption, but his expression softened when he saw the speaker. Eric Savage was striding through the crowd. He smiled at the guests around him and shook a few hands as he passed, then leapt up onto the dance floor with his father.
Eric bowed to Marlow and then spun and gave another theatrical bow to the guests. A smattering of applause went up from the crowd.
“I apologize for being late, Father. When I inform you of the reason, I trust you will forgive me.”
“He’s late because his ship is too slow,” Captain Savage whispered to Samra. “If his pilot knew how to fly half as well as you, he’d have been here sooner.”
Samra smiled.
Eric gestured to someone in the crowd. “I hope you will pardon the interruption, Father. I’ve brought you a gift to celebrate your victory.”
A man in a stiff coat and battered brown boots stepped up to the platform and offered something covered in paper to Eric. He in turn passed the object to Marlow. Marlow ripped the paper off the gift unceremoniously and revealed a shiny cube made of a material matching those along the walls. It shimmered in the light when Marlow moved it.
“For your esteemed collection,” Eric said.
Marlow nodded in appreciation and held up the cube. “Another jewel in our crown!”
The crowd applauded again.
“What is that?” Samra asked the captain.
“Another addition to his Library of Knowledge,” Captain Savage replied. “It’s one of the lost relics. Part of my father’s obsession.”
Marlow Savage was turning the relic over in his hands. He brushed his fingers over a corner and one surface lit up. “Do you know which secrets this contains?” he asked his son.
“I hope more than we shall ever need,” Eric replied. “But honestly, I do not know. However, I have someone who does. I plan to present him to you soon.” Eric turned to the man who had brought him the relic and whispered something, then turned and smiled to the crowd. “Now, Father, should we let these people dance and be entertained?”
Marlow seemed slightly annoyed to be cutting his speech short, but after a moment’s hesitation he gestured to the musicians. “Very well,” he said. “Enough talk. We are men of action.”
The crowd applauded again and the musicians started back up. Eric Savage consulted privately with his father for a few moments while people slowly climbed up onto the dance floor. Marlow’s eyes once again found Samra in the crowd, and this time he frowned. A whispered conversation ensued, then Marlow Savage nodded to his son, and moved the other direction to hand the relic to one of his attendants.
Eric noted Captain Savage in the crowd and walked over, hopping down from the dance floor and smiling at them. “Why, Sister, I almost didn’t recognize you. Without the whip, you’re nearly presentable, aren’t you.” He looked down at Samra. “And I see you brought your plant friend. Aren’t you a bit old to be playing with dress-up dolls, Sis?”
The captain narrowed her eyes.
“I’m n
ot a doll,” Samra protested.
“Keep telling yourself that, kid,” Eric replied. “Did you think you were actually invited to this party? Erin here is just using you as a way to rebel against our father.” He turned to Captain Savage. “Father specifically asked you not to bring her, didn’t he?”
Captain Savage didn’t respond.
“See?” Eric said to Samra. “What did I say? Looks like she just wanted to play dress-up with someone besides herself, and act out like the child she is.”
“Hard to take your insults seriously while you’re in that jester suit,” Captain Savage replied, flipping the end of Eric’s frilly tie. “How many hours did you spend getting into that?”
“Just enough to show I actually care about our father’s events. Did you even talk to any of the suitors he picked out for you tonight? Can’t turn them away forever. This life in the sun isn’t making you look any younger, you know.”
“Everything all right?” The voice came from behind Samra and she spun to find Sunburn standing behind her. He was wearing a jacket but had left the collar of his shirt open. He’d trimmed his beard and washed his hair, and his wild mane was now pulled back behind his head. He looked far more civilized than Samra had ever seen him. Handsome even.
“About time you showed up,” Captain Savage said. “Where have you been?”
“Waiting for the ideal moment,” Sunburn replied.
“Perfect timing indeed,” Eric said. “We were just discussing the continuing erosion of Erin’s future.” Sunburn stood almost a head taller than Eric and dwarfed the man by comparison. Eric tilted his head to look up at him and frowned. “So nice you brought your crew to the party. First the plant girl, now the redheaded giant. What’s next, you going to introduce us to your ancient mess cook?” He looked at Samra. “I know you enjoy disappointing Father, but I’m sure one freak in the room is quite enough to do the job.”
Samra felt her face heating up. “I’m not a freak.”
Eric cocked his head and smiled at her. “And I’m not the heir to the Savage Empire.” He grinned. “Thanks to my sister being such a screw up.”
Faster Than Falling: The Skylighter Adventures Page 30
