The Wind Merchant (16 page)

“Who knew you would save an entire orphanage and receive a vessel in return?” Hal said, amused. “Funny how you didn’t mention you lacked a ship when we spoke last.”

Ras turned and shot an incredulous look back at Callie, who proudly smiled, then returned his attention back to Hal. “My dad taught me that someone else should toot your horn. Wait, that’s wrong,” Ras said, feeling the effects from the medicine.

“Sage advice either way,” said Hal. “I’m impressed with your tenacity. It will serve you well in The Wild. Is your collection tank amply sized?”

“It is
so
ample,” Ras said. “Am I getting worse? I feel like I’m getting worse. My fingers feel…backwards.”

Callie interrupted. “Maybe you should lie back down.”

Hal turned to address Callie. “Miss Tourbillon, have you had time to practice with the device?”

“I think I’m getting the hang of it,” she said. “What do you call it?”

“It doesn’t have a name. Very rare. An old friend made it for me.”

“Whassat?” Ras asked.

Callie produced a brass sphere about the size of a snow globe from beneath the book. There were three holes where she inserted her thumb and first two fingers, activating the device. From within came a high-pitched whine of gears, and from the top, an arrow attached to a metal rod lifted. The arrow clicked into place and turned slightly to the left and downward, pointing east.

“It’s a compass that follows the trail to the mountain pass into The Wild,” Callie said.

“It reads the trace amounts of the element on the wind that comes from there,” Hal added.

Ras stared wide eyed at it the way a drunken toddler would. “Wow,” he said, over-enunciating. “Can I try?”

“That wouldn’t be wise, Ras. The device attunes itself to its user and another’s touch might cause it to stop working properly for Callie,” Hal said.

Ras nodded solemnly. “Don’t touch the shiny. Got it.”

“Precisely. Don’t touch the shiny,” Hal agreed as though Ras had just divulged a great secret.

“How long will he be like this?” Callie asked.

“Days, months, thirty more minutes…these things are hard to say.” Hal winked at her. “Dayus is preparing breakfast as we speak. Can’t send you off on an empty stomach, now can we?”

“No, we cannot,” Ras said in agreement, looking up at the ceiling as though Hal were standing on it.

“If you excuse me, I’ll have Dayus fetch you both when breakfast is ready.” With that, he exited the room.

“Ras, are you all right?” Callie asked.

“Aside from my arm attempting to exit my body, never better.” He slumped on the fainting couch, looking at Callie upside down. “How
you
doin’?” He frowned. “That came out wrong.”

She looked a bit flustered. “It’s just a lot to take in. Hal told me so many stories last night.”

Ras righted himself. “What kinda stories?”

“About The Wild. I think we might have gotten ourselves in over our heads.”

“We’ll be fine,” he said before slumping. “When I have two working arms I can sink entire cities,” Ras said. “I’m…
dangerous
. But I promised to save
Verdant
, protect you, and bring you with me. We’re in this thick as…thick as…butter.”

“Thieves, Ras. Thick as thieves,” Callie corrected.

“Or butter. Look it up. It’s a thing.” He inspected his fingernails, biting one. “I’m sure of it.” Not caring for its taste, he made a face. “So what’s in The Wild?”

“Pockets of frozen time, for one. That’s what he wants us to collect, Ras.”

“That would make a great birthday present,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Why is that?”

“‘
Surprise, little Timmy, now you get an extra long birthday!
’ Kids will go nuts over it.”

“More like, ‘
Surprise, little Timmy, now you’re stuck in time as the rest of the world ages around you until the sun explodes
,’” Callie countered.

“That sounds considerably less marketable.”

“I don’t want to get frozen in time,” she said, looking legitimately worried.

This sobered up Ras. “I won’t let that happen, okay? We stick together, and I have absolutely zero plans to get frozen in time forever. That breaks promises number one and three, plus it keeps me from number two, okay?”

She nodded.

“Is that a page turner?” Ras pointed to her lap.

“I’ve just been admiring the illustrations. Hal wrote it,” she said.

“He definitely has enough time on his hands. What did he say was in The Wild?”

“Elders that aren’t frozen in time pockets—”

Dayus opened the door and announced that breakfast was served. Callie helped Ras to his feet, careful not to aggravate the mending arm as the pair shuffled toward the door.

“So when did you become a cliff-diver?” Callie said, teasing.

“That was my first time, if you’ll believe it,” Ras said, missing the jab. He turned to Dayus as they passed him, “What’s this mesid…medic…medi…drug called?”

Dayus responded with a word Ras didn’t understand and most likely couldn’t pronounce when not under its effects.

“Fun.”

Hal sat at the end of a long wooden table with twenty place settings. Including Ras and Callie, only eight seats were occupied, and the other four crew members that Ras had not yet met were all older than Hal, looking to be either in their seventies or eighties.

Ras giggled slightly when he saw prunes in a bowl. He caught himself and stopped, tucking his lips between his teeth to avert a smile. The effects of the medicine slowly began ebbing away as he took in the smells of the food on the table. Toast, eggs, bacon, more eggs, toast with butter, and something that Ras figured to be yet even more eggs in an unfamiliar format were laid out before them. It was apparent that Dayus’ cooking repertoire was limited, and thus Ras assumed one of the empty seats formerly belonged to their late cook.

Ras was grateful to have some protein in his diet for a change and he filled his plate with scrambled eggs, two pieces of bacon, and a piece of buttered toast. He assumed Dayus knew where to find the rare mountaintop farms.

“So, Hal,” Ras said around a bite of toast. “How did you stop Bravo Company from attacking?”

Hal smiled. “I sent word to
The Collective I was on
Verdant
.”

“Why would that stop sky pirates?” Callie asked.

“Not every member of The Collective wears a uniform,” Hal said, “and they have a keen interest in knowing what I know.”

“Then why are sky pirates fighting a war against The Collective?” Ras asked.

“Have you heard any news of Bravo Company fighting in that war?” Before letting it sink in, he changed the subject. “So, Ras. Tell me about
Verdant
.”

Ras choked on the mouthful of eggs he had overzealously stuffed into his mouth. “But, Bravo Company…”

“
Verdant
,” Hal said, his stare challenging Ras to continue inquiring about the sky pirates.

“Ah, well…It was built in The Bowl about eighty years ago because The Bowl trapped Energy naturally—”

“I’m not looking for a history, my boy,” he said with a chuckle. “I
am
history. I’m more than familiar with how things came to be in the last century.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Quite all right. What are the people like?” Hal asked, inspecting the toast and selecting a piece.

“Well, people like to talk a lot. Catch up on things they missed while out on collection runs. People move there and stay, I guess because they like it there. I…don’t really know how it’s different from the rest of the world,” Ras admitted.

“Are the people happy?”

Ras had to think. “When not bombarded by sky pirates? I remember when I was little, people laughed more, but when you’re little people tend to hide the sad things from you. But since
The Winnower
put a lot of wind merchants out of work…we make do.”

Hal looked over to Callie, “What about you? What do you think of the people?”

She sheepishly smiled. “I…I don’t know.”

“Come now, you must have an opinion,” he said.

“Aside from my last year at the University, I’ve spent most of my life in my family’s basement or in doctors’ offices.”

Hal looked over to Dayus before nodding somberly as though he fully understood. Ras picked up on why he was asking about the people. He lived vicariously.

The old man probably hasn’t been outside this airship in over one hundred years. No wonder he’s the youngest on the ship full of people who occasionally leave,
Ras thought.

“What are you waiting for?” Ras asked bluntly.

“Pardon?” Hal asked, affronted by the abrupt tone.

“One-hundred and sixty-four. That’s a lot of time.”

“Yes.”

“The world thought you disappeared after you shut The Elders into The Wild,” Ras said.

“I did, in a way.”

“I mean no disrespect, but feasibly you could live for, say, at least a thousand years, right?” Ras asked. “But you stay on this ship writing and painting. It seems like a self-imposed prison sentence.”

Hal firmly placed his water glass on the table. “Let me ask you this: When would you step off the immortality train? Hmm? When would you decide you’ve lived long enough and it was time to stop taking your medicine?” Hal’s eyes narrowed. “You speak of things you don’t understand. I hired you to bring me my medicine and you question why I choose to take it? You just concern yourself with repenting of your sins and I’ll do the same.”

Breakfast was concluded.

The Kingfisher
descended all the way down to
The Brass Fox
’s altitude and sidled up to the other ship. Ras and Callie stood inside the control room next to Hal.

“I don’t know why I expected more out of a ship found in three days,” Hal said, surveying
The Brass Fox.
He pressed down on the intercom button. “Dayus! Bring something from the treasury for Flint.” He turned to Ras. “If you’re going to be outrunning Elder ships, you’ll need better engines than that.”

“Hey! My mother sold our home for those engines.” Ras said, his eyes narrowing.

Hal sighed and inspected the engines as though to see if she got her money’s worth. “I’ll send Dayus to fetch her if
Verdant
is to sink.”

Dayus arrived in the control room with a stack of bound currency that Ras didn’t recognize. Hal flipped through it and approved. “Fly to
Derailleur
first and find a mechanic named Flint. His shop is on the first level in the main channel.”

Slipped into the band of money was a piece of fine paper with a set of coordinates written on it. Hal pointed to it. “Once inside The Wild, that’s where you will collect the air. Don’t let these numbers or Callie’s device fall into the wrong hands. There will be other interested parties,” Hal said. “Do you understand?”

Ras nodded. “Got it.”

“I’ve had Dayus take the liberty of adding to your food supplies. You have quite the trip ahead of you.”

As Ras and Callie were ushered back over to
The Brass Fox
, there were so many things Ras felt he should be asking Hal, but he didn’t even know where to begin. He watched
The Kingfisher
ascend into the clouds, and kicked himself for forgetting to ask Hal what allowed his ship to fly so high. He wished he hadn’t spent most of his time aboard the fabled vessel with his faculties dulled by the medicine.

It dawned on him just how little he knew about the world outside of The Bowl, and he was about to cross the entirety of it.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The Great Below

Foster Helios III watched with little interest as the movers skittered about his father’s mansion, packing up boxes and lugging them out the massive front doors to be packed into an air transport parked on the front lawn. It was the seventh ship of the day.

It all had to go.

After a month of living with austere portraits and busts of his late father staring him down, he had called the movers. He didn’t know where they were taking everything and he honestly didn’t care. Here in
Derailleur
there were committees, sub-committees, and foundations devoted to preserving the legacy of his father: Foster Helios II, the richest man in the Atmo, who couldn’t buy himself another second no matter how hard he tried. And he tried.

Echoes filled the mansion now. The emptiness wasn’t for want of money, as The Collective had compensated young Foster amply ever since he was old enough to command the attention of his father. He would make his own way, filling the mansion with the mementos of his conquests, and he would have many opportunities as he commanded The Collective fleet to wipe the sky clear of pirates. He was already thirty-five, which meant it was high time for a Helios man to save the world again.

A man wearing The Collective’s insignia on his arms dashed into the main foyer and saw Foster standing on his interior balcony. “Sir!” he called up.

“What is it?” Foster said, more interested in guessing the length of the foyer than speaking to the man.

“
The Kingfisher
was spotted with another ship outside of
Verdant
!”

“What? Intelligence said he was on the city.”

“I know, sir, but a dive team stayed behind to investigate the residue of the Convergence and—”

“Did we capture Napier?”

“No, sir, he flew higher than we could follow.”

“What about the other ship?”

“A junker. We don’t have a ship in the area that’s not a diver or one of Bravo’s,” the lackey said.

“Send one of the
Derailleur
detachments. I want the Captain of that ship brought directly to me.”

“Yes, sir!” The man left the mansion as quickly as he had entered.

Foster looked at one of the paintings of his father that had not yet been packed up. “You search your entire life for the ageless Napier and he falls into my lap just after you ran out of time…Looks like I won’t need a son to carry on the Helios name after all.” He smirked. “After all, sons just throw away what their fathers spent their lives building so they can make their own name anyway. What good are they?”