They walked for about twenty minutes in silence along an increasingly narrow path. The houses thinned out around them, the forest thickened and the stars grew bright. They reached an edge of Stone, and a viewing platform.
“Is this where you push me off?” David asked.
“Don’t spoil another night, Cadell,” Graine said. “Please.”
He gripped the rail to steady himself and an image struck him suddenly, a memory that was not his own: of a third moon rising above a dark and shivering city of stone, and a sea of ice rising and drowning the world, and he could see faces, eyes staring, faces in the ice and they were frozen, but not dead.
“David?” Graine reached out a hand. David stepped away from her. “A memory, something vivid and cruel. I saw – I don't know what I saw.” Graine nodded. “Sorry, I didn't mean to call him out of you.” David turned his back to her. “He's getting stronger,” he said, and looked over the edge, into the dark.
Drift moved in a rough circle over Shale, though its circumference had shrunk with the coming of the Roil, as though where that darkness was the mechanisms of the city feared to go. What the city might do once (if) the Roil enclosed the entire world was uncertain. But then, life in a city in the sky was full of uncertainties. For all that Drift’s residents claimed sovereignty of the air, there was much they did not know. For one, was the city capable of eternal flight, or would its engines one day run down and the city fall from the sky?
David felt as though he were falling now.
He turned and looked back at the city, he could just make out the balcony, and the party. Fireworks were being lit. More memories came unbidden, of ancient wars of a vast darkness, crawling, crawling towards towers higher than mountains. He thought, Enough! Enough!
Graine gestured at the sky. “The Roil's iron ships, they'll attack us. We've held ourselves apart from the troubles below for so long, but it was all for nothing. Ah, but the world isn’t as it was,” Graine said.
“The world never is as it was,” David said. “That’s the nature of the world.” “We should understand that better than anyone.” Graine touched his face.
“After all, you are the embodiment of change.”
“Seeing you, I’m beginning to understand that better than I could have thought,” David said. “Now, please tell me why you brought me here.”
“You were never going to be clear of Hardacre before the Old Men came. My spies could tell me that much. Buchan and Whig, they were dithering so, when they should have been more certain, more… commanding. As they were when they ran Chapman. Hardacre's politics are complicated, I guess. And my actions are with precedent. I've once freed you before, long ago. Is it too much for you to remember?
Though the touch of the earth stabbed at my feet, I went down to your prison and let you out.”
And David realised that she was addressing Cadell. Perhaps she had been addressing him all along. He felt Cadell rise a little within him, as though all the Carnival in the world couldn’t keep the Old Man suppressed. It was like drowning, and here, with this strange woman, he let himself drown. David nodded. “It was a mistake.”
Graine sighed. “One never knows until one fails. And it wasn’t a mistake to free you, just the others.”
“If I remember, forty people died as a result of that freedom.”
“What did it matter? So many had died already.”
David blinked, felt Cadell slide away, as though banished by the memory of that long-ago freedom. “Why didn’t you just throw us into prison the moment we arrived?”
Graine gestured at the city around them. “You do not see it? This is Drift. The city in the sky, you cannot run from here unless I say so. Where is your airship? What Aerokin do you pilot? I did not want to frighten you unduly. The frontal approach, that struck me as too dangerous, not for you, nor for your warrior-guardian woman, but for my people. How many of my kind would die before Margaret was overcome? How many could you kill?
“And do not tell me that you didn’t expect some sort of assault on your arrival,” she said.
“I might have.”
“Yes, well, for the first time you were greeted with open arms here. Coercion isn’t necessarily the best solution. And it worked. Still, sometimes it’s required.”
She held his hand. “Let me take you back to the Caress, to my rooms. We have so much to discuss, you've need of strategy now. Old Men hunt you, the Roil hunts you, but I've a way that you can be done with it, and in Tearwin Meet before the week is out.”
David let her lead him away from the edge.
In her rooms, they did far less talking than David had been led to expect. Her lips pressed hard against his. He felt no resistance, just an answering hunger, and this so unlike anything he had known before. It consumed him, made him weak.
She guided his fingers to her thigh, and he felt her racing pulse. They were naked in an eye blink. And then they were bound in each other, hot and cold combined, and it was hard and rough, and utterly unexpected. By the time they were done, David felt stripped away, worn out, and yet more alive than he could have believed. He traced a finger along the curve of her belly, kissed a nipple gently, and Graine pushed him away.
“That will be enough,” she said primly.
“Enough?” His face was slick with her, his senses filled with her. “Good heavens, madam, I thought we had only started.”
Graine smiled. “Cadell, my Cadell. I really am sorry.”
Her hand flashed out, striking him just above the eyes, and David fell.
“Not fair,” he breathed.
“Of course it isn’t,” Graine said, and kicked him in the face.
CHAPTER 26
Two things does Drift give to the world and they are, without argument, the finest pilots, and the strongest rum.
Is there anything more that you need to know?
A Brief Summary of the Histories of a Fractured Land, Justine Larhn
THE CITY OF DRIFT
1410 MILES NORTH OF THE ROIL
The reception possessed little formality. Margaret still wondered how people could let themselves get so drunk, and so quickly. Then she had a sip of the Drift rum, and her eyes watered. David wasn’t so circumspect. He was soon nearly as drunk as the rest of them.
The pilot reached out a hand. “I’m Cam,” she said.
“Why am I talking to you?” Margaret said.
Cam's gaze held hers. “Because you have to talk to someone, and I'm good at talking.”
Beads rattled in her hair when she spoke; rings covered every finger: silver, brass, and gold. She pulled back her hair, all those beads rattling again.
“Aerokin are possessed of a singular fury,” Cam said. “Sometimes I and Meredith fight, sometimes they don’t know their own strength. We were both so much younger, scarcely more than children. She never struck me again.”
“You don’t need to defend your Aerokin,” Margaret said lightly.
Cam shook her head. “That is why I live. A pilot would die for her craft.”
Margaret reached out and touched her hand. “And I believe you,” she said. She wondered what it might be like to be joined with a craft that loved but didn’t like you, how that relationship might rage and rush.
“So what are you here for?” Cam asked.
“I really don’t know,” Margaret said.
“I’ve been off north, patrolling the edges of the ice plains.”
Margaret’s eyes flicked towards her. “Near Tearwin Meet?”
“Close enough,” Cam said. “Seen the high tower and that damn wall several times through the glass. You come down over those northern mountains, and think you’re done for bloody spectacle and then... there, the three mountains and the great wall that links them, rising like a black fist into the sky, and beyond the wall, the sea. It’s threatening, don’t like things that I can’t just glide over.”
“And the way was clear?”
“Always is. I could get in trouble for telling you.”
Cam grabbed her arm, pulled Margaret in close. She lowered her voice. “You a spy or something?”
Margaret yanked her arm free. “No, of course not.”
She grinned. “Glad to know, though I’m sure you wouldn’t out and admit to it. I like the look of you. Let’s get ourselves a drink and then we can chat.”
Margaret had to admit that she liked the look of Cam too.
Mother Graine entered the hall, and the whole place quietened. Those nearest dipped their heads in a quick bow.
Margaret watched Mother Graine; a guard came over to her, whispered in her ear. Margaret couldn’t hear what was said, but Mother Graine shook her head furiously. The guard stepped back, and she gestured for the door.
Not long after, Mother Graine walked to David, said something to him, and they left the room.
“Mystery piled on mystery,” Kara Jade said to Margaret, and not without a touch of jealousy in her voice.
Margaret looked at her oddly.
Kara took another slug of her rum. “Keep your wits about you, Miss Penn,” she said.
“I’ll try not to follow your lead.”
Kara raised a finger in the air. “Do as I say – not as I do.” She bent forward and whispered in Margaret's ear. “I'd watch that Cam, she’s a wild one.”
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of drink and talk. And she stumbled to Cam’s room. Talking, laughing, swinging from humour to mad seriousness in what felt like heartbeats. Then she was spilling her guts, and then spewing them. And Cam was patting her back, and then she woke in Cam’s bed.
Cam smiled at her, eyes bright with affection and concern. “It’s all right. You’re safe here, unless you want to be dangerous.”
And Margaret did. She really did. Not once did she think about the Roil or Tearwin Meet, or David for that matter.
It was Kara Jade that found her. Kara smirked. “You ignored my warnings, I see.” Margaret felt her cheeks redden. “I… where’s David?”
“I was hoping you would know,” Kara said. “All I know is that they stopped having me followed. Big men, I believe that you had a run-in with them.”
Margaret realised that that the night had never been about her. Something so obvious that she had missed it. They’d taken David.
She swung a punch at Cam. The pilot blocked it.
“What are you doing?”
“Where did you take him?” Margaret asked.
“Whoa, I had nothing to do with that. Nothing! I was merely asked to keep you company. And fine company I found it. That is all.”
“We’ve all been damned and deceived,” Kara said, “Distracted. I didn’t expect to see my sister at the reception–”
“Is he safe?” Margaret said.
Kara shook her head. “When is David ever safe? That boy attracts danger like lint.”
“We’ll find him,” Cam said. “I don’t like being used. The Mothers of the Sky have never acted this way before.”
Kara nodded. “Yes, something is very wrong.”
Cam threw Margaret’s long coat towards her. She caught it easily. “But the world isn’t as it was,” Cam said. “And I guess we were foolish to think it otherwise. You find David.” She looked over at Kara. “I’ll get the Dawn ready for the journey north, if you'll let me.”
“Was going to ask you myself,” Kara said.
“Be careful,” Margaret said, and Cam laughed.
“There’s nothing careful about any of this.” She kissed Margaret hard. “I’m a pilot, ain’t nothing careful in my life. You fly or fall, that’s all there is.”
CHAPTER 27
An Old Man once came upon a boy in the street. He patted the boy's head and walked on. When questioned why he didn't hurt him, the Old Man replied: “He wasn't dead enough.”
The man who asked the question apparently was.
Old Men, Kingsley Appleton
THE CITY OF HARDACRE
958 MILES NORTH OF THE ROIL
The trail had led them here, to the city. They stood in the spot where Cadell had died his second death, and mourned the passing of a brother. David was gone, high and fast.
But there were other things to hunt, enemies as ancient as they were. They uncovered nests of Roilings and froze them away. In a single day they found them all, and at the last, facing a host of the dead things, they lost all sense of the boy.
It was as though he had been snatched away from the world.
The Old Men turned to each other, paused in their fighting. David was no longer there. His presence and the bits and pieces of Cadell were gone.
They neither smiled nor frowned. There was no triumph.
“He is gone,” the oldest of them said, then tore off the head of the nearest Roiling. Witmoths spilled from the wound like ants from a nest, but at a gesture, the air temperature fell, cracking nearby stone, and the moths dropped dead to the ground.
Another Roiling stabbed out at him, and the Old Man caught its wrist, ice sheathed the creature’s flesh and it screamed once, briefly, and was dead.
“Is that the last of them?” the oldest asked.
“Yes,” came the response six times.
Perhaps this was it. Perhaps their task was done, and they could get on with their dying. There’d be a quiet dignity in it. After all, they had cleared the city of Hardacre of Roilings.
“Then we must feed, and–” He felt David again. They all did: the weight of his thoughts and their rage returned.
The captain of the Langan Twist waited for Mr Brown of Mr Brown’s estates. He clutched the invoice in his hands; he wasn’t going until he had all the money that was owed him. Times were desperate, and his business had grown even more cut-throat in the past few weeks. Mirrlees was gone, Hardacre and a few coastal towns the only major outposts – and Drift, of course, but they had no need of his lumpy old dirigible. They had their Aerokin and ways of dealing with the land.
He lived from commission to commission. And even that was getting thinner, this was the first time he had done the Creal and Hardacre run without proper security. His five passengers were stowed away and onboard, but he still needed this payment. He looked down at the invoice, it would see him clear for another month. After that, well, the world might have ended then – and with it his bills. Every cloud, he thought. Every bloody cloud.
If only most of his creditors had been based in Mirrlees rather than Hardacre, he would be free and clear of debt (as some of his competitors had become); but he was a good Northern Airship man, dealt only with northerners, and they still expected payment. Month in, month out.
Didn’t they see what was happening?
Still, the captain clung to his own ways, which was why he had rejected Buchan and Whig’s offer. That and he wasn’t given to madness. The way north was dangerous and fickle, and he knew he could never, not even in his most arrogant moments, know the sky well enough to risk those winds.
Now, where was that–
The invoice dropped from his fingers, he reached for it absently, only he didn’t stop reaching – and the paper seemed to slide further and further away. How frustrating! By the time his head smacked against the floor, he was already dead.
The Old Man picked him up gently, the body still twitching. He’d only just eaten, and while it never hurt to have a little more, he knew there would be no chance to eat in the sky. They’d come upon the airship fields by accident, but the Old Man was willing to accept serendipity. Before in the city, and for what came after, all that killing and running, they’d not been clear enough of head to consider it, but now, fat on refugees and city folk, clarity was coming back.
The last of the Old Men arrived. He carried a great bag over one shoulder. “You found the mechanism?” their leader asked.
The other nodded, and wiped at a bloody mouth. “Its owner was more than happy to give it up.”
“Then we are ready. We have stripped this town of its Roilings, its Vergers and scum. We have fed and fed deeply. Now we must fly. David is in the air,
and we must join him. The time for walking is done,” the Old Man said. He nodded to the others, one of them dragging Mr Brown of Mr Brown’s estates with him.
The Langan Twist rose into the air, and not long after, the screaming began in earnest.
Not everyone could wait.
CHAPTER 28
The Old Men thought they knew everything, the Mothers of the Sky knew more. It's hard not to, when the world is stretched beneath you like a map. Which makes their mistakes all the grander.
Last Days and Last Drinks, Midden Jones
THE CITY OF DRIFT
1411 MILES NORTH OF THE ROIL
“I’m really sorry about this, David,” she said with a voice that lacked the slightest whit of contrition.
David struggled to open his eyes, the lids gummed with blood. They came apart slowly. He blinked a scratchy sort of blink. His wrists were bound in iron, his shoulders burned. He tried to touch the ground, and could just manage it, though not enough to support his weight. “What are you doing?”
“You know what I’m doing,” Mother Graine said.
David closed his eyes, focussed on the iron shackling his wrists, and the chains that lifted them above his head, and made them cold. Very cold. A bitter sharp sort of chill that built within him and spread out. His breath thickened, the air itself slowed around him. The iron shuddered and rattled. It warped. Slowly, he lifted himself up, and yanked. The iron burst, and he hit the ground hard, breath knocked out of him, almost thinking he might shatter himself, but he didn’t. He tore his hands free, took a step forward, and–
He woke in virtually the same position as before, only this time, his toes brushed a puddle of something, melted ice, blood, piss or all three of them. This is not good, he thought.
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