The Wind Merchant (12 page)

“That’s a very rudimentary assumption,” Hal said.

“I’m just curious why you think I could do something that killed my father.”

“As I said, I look for properly motivated wind merchants.”

“You mean those desperate enough to attempt a suicide mission,” Ras countered. The job began to lose its sheen.

“Was your father a desperate man?” Hal asked rhetorically. “Forgive me. Elias sought me, not the other way around. After
The Winnower
had been completed, he was one of the few that saw the expiration date stamped on his city. But he was one of the rare breed bold enough to do something about it.”

“How can you save
Verdant
?” Ras asked.

“One does not discover The Origin of All Energy without making sure one is properly invested in the right places.” He smiled. “Compound interest is a beautiful thing.”

“As is living one-hundred and sixty-four years,” Ras said.

Hal blinked, then focused on the world far below. “The merits of that are debatable,” he said coldly.

Ras caught Hal’s reflection in the glass. For a moment he wondered if Hal earned the steel in his gaze from living through The Clockwork War and The Great Overload. “But money doesn’t make a Convergence.”

Hal let a dark chuckle escape, lost in a memory. “Let us hope not.” He turned to look back at Ras. “Helios engines,” he said with renewed vigor. “Helios engines to keep
Verdant
aloft are what this situation calls for. As little as I care for the system the Helios family crafted for Atmo, it far outweighs the loss of life required for a Convergence.”

“But what about fuel—”

“I am willing to pay for a supply of fuel from The Collective as long as I am alive, which is a better offer than most can make.”

“Hold on, how much of The Collective do you own?”

“Not enough to make any business decisions, but enough to put a dent in them if I pull out,” he said. “I used to be more involved before they lost their way.”

“I have one more question,” Ras said.

“Yes?”

“Why offer this to the guy that caused his city to start sinking out of ineptitude? Every wind merchant left on
Verdant
is properly motivated.”

“I think you’re trying to put yourself out of a job again, Erasmus.”

Ras thought. “No. I just want to understand your motivation.”

Hal Napier smiled with a hint of sadness behind his eyes. “There’s just something fitting when a man puts right his wrongs.” He let the silence linger for a moment. “How soon will your ship be ready?”

Ras felt his heart begin to pound. He stood from the chair and stuffed his hands in his pockets so Hal wouldn’t notice them shaking. “I’ll need a week to get my affairs in order,” he said with no idea where he would find a functioning wind merchant vessel or collect the means to procure it.

“Three days,” Hal countered. “My air is running thin.”

Ras felt Hal was being unreasonable, but it wasn’t like he had any bargaining chips. “All right.”

“But if I don’t see you in three days, I’ll be sending Dayus to find someone else.” Hal extended his hand. “Do we have an understanding?”

The shuttle’s return path avoided Bravo Company by keeping a high altitude until it was high above the tiny, glowing speck of
Verdant
.

Smoke trailed away. A third of the city was in flames.

While no ship actively attacked
Verdant
, Bravo Company hung in a sphere around the city, dissuading any escape attempts. Several ships lay wrecked, leaving scars of debris through buildings and streets.

Ras tried to spot if his neighborhood was one of the areas on fire and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw much of the residential zone remained untouched. The docks had been targeted, and many of the ships suffered for it.

“Let us hope your ship is all right,” Dayus said.

“Can you put us down in front of my house?” Ras asked.

The shuttle dove, but pulled up with a deafening release of steam to pad its landing. Dayus turned in his chair, offering Ras a slip of paper with coordinates to
The Kingfisher
’s location over the next three days, and warned Ras not to tell people of his meeting with Hal as Hal didn’t want his presence in the area known.

The cabin’s sealed door opened, letting in the sounds of chaos. The low rumble of a fire mixed with screams and shouts in the distance unnerved Ras. A lot had happened in the last couple of hours.

“How am I supposed to make it past Bravo Company?” Ras asked.

“I was under the impression you had no difficulty flying underneath the cloud level,” Dayus said. “They’re interested in overtly showing their strength, not risking their lives by hiding.”

“Right.” Ras turned and began to exit the shuttle. He stopped, looked back at Dayus. “How old are you?”

Dayus scoffed. “Old enough.”

The door of the Veir house opened and slammed shut, drawing Ras’ attention to his mother running out to the street.
 

“What are you doing?” she shouted as she ran up to the door of the shuttle, focused on Dayus. “You get out of here.”

“Ma’am,” Dayus said, nodding a civil greeting.

“I don’t care how bad things are getting, you can’t have him too.”

Dayus simply looked over to Ras. “Three days.”

Ras stepped out of the shuttle to be with his mother, who threw her arms around her son.

“I thought I lost you,” she said, tightening her embrace. “The Engine was hit hard.” She released him, then began walking back toward their house. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

It took about ten minutes for Ras to relay the conversation with Hal to his mother, who sat stone faced at the kitchen table.

“No. Absolutely not. You won’t have anything to do with that man.”

“But this is a chance to save
Verdant
!” Ras said, gesturing wildly.

“That’s what your father said, and I don’t see
Verdant
saved, or him either. Let someone else go. I’m not losing you too.”

“Mom, what if someone else goes and fails? What then?” Ras yelled.

“What if
you
fail?” she retorted. “You don’t even have a ship! This is a moot point. You don’t have a license, and nobody is going to give you a loan…and then what if you get caught piloting illegally?”

Ras narrowed his eyes. “Just tell me that you don’t think I’m capable, or that if dad the hero was killed then little Rassy won’t even make it past The Bowl.”

“Honey, please don’t make me lose you too,” she said.  She took a deep breath to steady herself. “You took after me instead of your father.”

“What?”

“When your dad built
The Silver Fox
, I was going to be his navigator, but when we went out for our first few runs, he never found anything. We thought it was a fluke, but after a dozen runs with nothing to show for it, I moved back into this house and we had you. You’re not a Knack like your father, you’re—”

“Please don’t say I’m a Lack,” Ras said. “Maybe I’m not a Knack, and maybe I’ll never be as good as dad, but I’m not going to spend the rest of my life knowing I turned down the opportunity to fix things after ruining so many lives. Don’t let me die inside like that, because you know I would, and so would you.” Ras stormed out of the kitchen and slammed the front door, almost running into Callie on the front porch. She looked at him wide-eyed as he tried to compose himself.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“How much of that did you hear?” he asked.

“As little as you need me to have,” she said.

“Thanks. Is your family all right?”

Callie shrugged. “After the attacks, my dad went to the docks…a biplane landed on our ship, so we’re not going anywhere for a while.”

Ras felt guilty for feeling relieved. “Did The Collective come back?”

She gave him a confused look. “No. After about an hour of bombarding they just stopped.” She paused. “So was Mr. Hat actually Hal Napier?”

“No.”

“Oh. It would have made for a good twist though, right?” She offered a little smile as if encouraging Ras to give it a try. “So he really wants you to go to The Wild?”

Ras met her eyes. There was always something excited behind them when things went wrong. It wasn’t that she enjoyed pain or suffering, but the idea that real life could look like the stories she read often mixed with the bit of naivete that told her everything would turn up all right by the end. He took a deep breath and let it go slowly. “I need a ship first,” he said. “Keep your eyes open?”

“I won’t blink.”

CHAPTER SIX

The Search

Before beginning his search for the ship, Ras felt an obligation to see what had become of The Engine during his extended lunch break. He wasn’t sure if simply lying that he got lost in the attack, or a crazy-sounding truth would do better with Billie, Finn, and Guy.

The main entrance to the Engine was partially obscured with heavy iron debris, but the doors had been blown off their hinges, allowing Ras to easily climb over the wreckage and inside.

Overwhelming heat met him as he entered the main corridor. The acrid burning smell of overworked machinery mixed with the coppery scent of blood filled the air. Bulges in the bulkhead walls indicated the area had suffered major structural damage.

Workers busily lined the wide corridor with what Ras assumed to be bodies under sheets. The skeleton crew was shrinking, and all Ras could do was blame himself for provoking Bravo Company to swoop in on the ailing city.

Billie’s office was dark, save for the sparks jumping from some of the dangling light fixtures.

“Billie?” Ras called. “Anyone?” After waiting a few moments in the dark to collect himself, he made his way to Engine Eight to find a quarter of the crew patching pipes and running about.

Kiria spotted Ras and immediately changed course to approach him.
Where were you?
she signed with aggressive gestures.

Where
… Ras began signing, but didn’t know how to sign Guy’s name, so instead held a hand over his eye.

I don’t know.

Ras turned to leave, but Kiria grabbed his arm.
 

Help us
.
Her scared expression broke Ras’ heart.

I am,
he signed before turning to head to the medical unit.

Shouts of agony met Ras before he reached his destination. Scores of men and women all cradling lesser wounds stood in the hallway, either waiting to be assessed, or for one of the beds to become unoccupied.

Ignoring protests that he was cutting in line, Ras walked past everyone and peeked inside to see medics bustling and every bed full.

“You!” Someone Ras didn’t know shouted from one of the beds with a gash in his temple. He pointed accusingly at Ras. Two of the orderlies moved to restrain him as he attempted to get up from the bed. “This is all your fault! They wouldn’t have attacked if they didn’t smell blood!” He wrestled against the two men. “Let me go!”

Finn turned and noticed Ras. Striding over, he said, “I can’t have a riot in here.” His voice held more sympathy than Ras expected.

“Where’s Billie?” Ras asked, eyes flitting among the patients.

“She manned one of the cannons,” Finn said.

Ras knew
Verdant
had its own defenses scattered throughout the perimeter of the city, but didn’t know where to find them. “Is she still down there?”

“The sons of Remnants targeted the city’s weapons. I haven’t received anyone from there yet, and I don’t expect to.” Finn bowed his head for a moment, the cries of pain beckoning him back into the ward. “Please go.”

“What Sub-level?” Ras asked.

“Fifteen. Why?”

Ras bolted back into the hallway. He had to get to the defense platform, but found every elevator to be either packed or disabled. Finding a door labeled stairwell, he burst through it and began his descent down the spiral staircase.

He had to fight the crowds bringing the injured up to the medical center. He kept an eye out for anyone resembling Billie, but had no luck.

Sub-level Fifteen’s stairwell door took a hefting to open as the top hinge had broken loose already. He scraped the door open just enough to fit himself through and saw a mostly collapsed ceiling; apparently Sub-level Fourteen had fallen through, scattering an array of broken pipes and sparking wires.

In the non-collapsed portions of the corridor, Ras could make out a row of large, seated cannons and piles of cannon balls in barrels bolted to the floor next to them.  Daylight flooded in where some of the cannons had moved out to a platform outside of the corridor.

Reaching the first cannon, he saw a man seated atop the weapon, slumped over its controls. Next to it dangled a harnessed person whom Ras guessed to be the cannon loader.

“Billie!” Ras called out, scrambling over bent girders and pipes that spat steam irregularly.

“I haven’t found her yet,” a voice shouted back, its owner hidden in the wreckage further down the bay.

“Who’s there?”

Guy stepped out from behind one of the cannons, caked with dust and blood. “Oh. You.”

Ras trudged forward, occasionally tangling his feet in the debris as he walked toward Guy. “I thought she worked in the office—”

“Who sent you down here?”

It was difficult to know what sort of response would set off Guy’s temper, so Ras answered quickly. “Nobody. Where would she be?”

Guy hoisted a thin sheet of metal bulkhead that had collapsed down over a body, and he swore before gently lowering the wreckage.

Clearing a wrecked cannon, Ras came close enough to see the bulkhead covering up a bloodied arm. “Is that…”

“No,” Guy said. “Her name was Rin, not that you’d care.”

“And why wouldn’t I care?” Ras felt his temper flare. “I’m as much a son of
Verdant
as you are.”

Guy huffed in grim amusement. “I’m Merronian, you idiot.” He paused. “And where were you when all this happened, huh? Hiding?”

Ras became very aware that he didn’t bear a single battle scar from the attacks. “No, I was…” He stopped, avoiding the bait. “Never mind.” He turned his attention to the next section of wreckage.