Chenda and the Airship Brofman (15 page)

As the minutes rolled by, the airship sank lower as it approached the atoll,.Chenda could now see the bright blue of the shallow lagoon, and the airship terminal piers radiating high from a central tower on the far side of the narrow ring of land.

Fenimore began madly waving a pair of small flags at the spire. He would stop every now and again, watching for a response. After several exchanges, he dropped the flags into the nest and hopped over the side, sliding down a thin cable and landing gracefully at the door to the wheelhouse. He opened the door and said, “We're all set, Captain. They want us to come about and take slip number seven. Their prices are officially outrageous these days.”

The captain's barking laugh came through the open doorway. “It doesn't matter. I'll meet Jason Belles for a few hands of cards later and it will all come out even.”

“Whatever you say, sir. Who do you want on first watch?”

“Germer is staying aboard, along with Spencer. Too much temptation there for those two. Please remind the two idiot boys that they are to be back here at midnight, or they will be cleaning the chemical tanks with their tongues tomorrow!”

“Yes, sir.”

“And we'll be departing well before dawn tomorrow, so the rest of you be back well before four bells. Dismissed.”

Fenimore closed the door and smiled as he headed toward the bow and his usual post. As the airship approached the tower, it made a wide arc and eased toward slip seven. Fenimore unclipped his bitter-end and, taking a coil of rope in one arm, he climbed up onto the railing and jumped over the side. He landed on the last few inches of the pier and ran along the side of the gliding ship as it inched into the slip. He looped the mooring line around a solid, shiny cleat and, as the airship pulled the line taut, Fenimore ran up it like a tightrope walker. He leaped the last five feet up and over the side, landing gracefully on the deck.

Several whistles sounded through the
Brofman
, and the crew raced onto the deck. They lined up along the rail and turned their attention to Fenimore.

“Germer, Spencer, you two have drawn the short straws. You're on watch while we dock. Stanley and Lincoln, get us hooked up for water, and check the quality of their desalinization. I don't fancy using our own power tomorrow to have to clean it again. Once the two of you have done that, accompany the captain to pick up supplies. Then the evening is yours until midnight. May the gods spare you from my wrath if you aren't here by the first bell of the middle watch. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir!” the young men nodded with excitement.

“We'll be departing the atoll by four bells,” Fenimore informed the rest of the crew. “I'd hate to leave anyone behind.” He grinned. “That is all.”

The crew fell out of formation, all except for Spencer, who stood there looking annoyed.

“Sorry, lad,” Germer said to the small young man. “Your turn will come around. Let's get some cards.” Germer led Spencer belowdecks.

Fenimore and Verdu talked as they leaned on the ship's rail for a few minutes and then made their way to where Chenda and Candice sat.

“Good evening, ladies,” Fenimore said with a grin, “and welcome to Atoll Belles. I'm Fen and would be happy to give you a guided tour. This is my assistant tour guide, Verdu. Our fees are modest and negotiable. What's your pleasure?”

Candice laughed out loud at the bogus sales pitch, but stood and said, “What the heck! If someone is on the atoll already looking to kill us, I doubt we will be any safer up here than we would be down there. Show us the town!”

Fenimore flipped the lever that lowered the gangway to the pier. Verdu led the way, followed by Candice and Chenda, with Fenimore bringing up the rear. The group stepped toward the central point of the tower, a bank of elevators. As they boarded the next available car, Verdu suggested, “The market might be a nice place to start our tour. It's down by the lagoon, and there are dozens of traders there. Lots of people to watch.”

Chenda smiled, “I happen to know a bit about shopping. This could be fun.”

As the elevator doors opened and the four stepped out, Chenda realized how far from home she really was. The platform where she stood was surrounded by an iron barrier several yards out from the elevators. Inside this fence, a few dock officials milled around, checking documents and posting schedules. But outside, beggars of every size and color pressed against the bars, their hands reaching in. Chenda froze as she looked at the pleading faces. Their anguish overwhelmed her.

Fenimore put his hand gently on her back and started pushing her toward the exit. Chenda's eyes settled on a small woman. Her dark purple gown hung loosely on her thin body, and she gestured to Chenda. With her fingers pinched together and her palm upturned, she tapped on her own lips, then turned slightly and touched the lips of the small baby tied to her back. Her hand stretched out to Chenda weakly, beseeching. The woman's eyes were dead as she repeated the motion again and again, begging for food for herself and her child.

“Chenda, keep walking,” Fenimore said as she turned her eyes to him.

“Can't we help them?”

“No, not now.” Fenimore's eyes were resolved.  She could see he was struggling not to look at the starving woman, as if focusing on her would cause his resolve to break. “We can help them when we come back. We'll be mobbed when we step out among them if they think we have anything to give. Step lively now, and follow my lead. We'll be taking a rickshaw to the market, so be ready to jump into the first one you see.”

Chenda took one last look at the tiny woman as she cleared the exit barrier, and in a few more steps, Fenimore pushed her into a waiting bicycle cart. As they began to move, Chenda spied Candice and Verdu stepping into their own rickshaw.

“The marketplace,” Fenimore commanded the driver.

“Who are they?” Chenda asked Fenimore solemnly.

“People call them the Wanderers – an ironic name, since they don’t
wander
anywhere. They are stuck here because they've been left behind for one reason or another. Some were abandoned, some ran away, many are sick or insane. Some are refugees. They live entirely off the kindness of strangers. They have no home or boat or airship.”

“There were so many. What a horrible existence,” Chenda whispered.

“I know,” Fenimore said softly. “It could be worse, though. Jason Belles allows them to beg at the foot of his tower, which is more than what a lot of private docks allow. Some places throw the Wanderers into the sea to drown or feed the sharks.” Fenimore's eyes took on a hard, angry cast. “I can't decide which fate is worse.”

“Being left behind is bad enough.” Chenda said.

The rickshaw rattled along the narrow path to the atoll's market on the boat docks. When it stopped, Fenimore paid the driver and the pair waited in sad silence for Candice and Verdu to catch up.

Verdu unfolded himself from the rickshaw and tossed the driver a coin. Candice looked happy to be walking on solid ground again, and eager to stretch her legs.

Chenda's mood lightened as the small party entered the long line of stalls in the marketplace. The first stall boasted a hand-painted sign over the door that read
My God is Able, Industries
.

“Hmm,” Chenda turned to Fenimore. “The name gives me no clue what they sell.”

“No, indeed, but they have faith that their god will help -- whatever they do.”

Inside the boxy stall sat a small boy who dragged a stick across the dusty floor. When Chenda entered, he jumped up and started chattering to her in a language she didn't understand. He grabbed little packets of soap and snack foods and pushed them into her hands. The boy tried to show her all the goods he had all at once: cracker tins, jugs of water, a few beat-up old books and spools of thread. He chittered ceaselessly.

Verdu watched Chenda become more overwhelmed with the goods the boy foisted on her until she looked as if she might collapse. He stepped forward, brows scrunched together, wagging one finger and growling at the boy in the same guttural language. The boy leaped forward and collected back all the goods from Chenda's arms and then dropped to one knee, his eyes downcast.

Verdu barked again at the boy and drew his hand back as if to strike the child. He glanced at Chenda and said, “Do step out of here, please.”

“Don't,” she pleaded.

“Oh, I won't. It's just that he expects me to. I'm going to let him think I will for just a few seconds more. He'll be fine.” Chenda paused for a moment and then backed out of the stall.

Unaware of the scene inside, Candice stood with Fenimore, happily looking atsome of the items hanging on hooks outside.

“What just happened?” Chenda asked as Verdu appeared by her side.  “Was that boy speaking Tugrulian? What did you say to him? Why were you so mean?”

“These shop boys get overly aggressive sometimes,” Verdu said calmly. “It's understandable, as his father likely beats him if he doesn't maintain a certain level of sales. He's a dyed-in-the-wool Tugrulian, however, and knew he had no business touching the hand of a woman who was not of his family. He saw me and assumed I was your husband. He knew I saw him brush your hand and that he was in big trouble. You seemed overwhelmed, so I let him think I would beat him to death for his indiscretion. Then all he wanted was to get us out of his stall.”

He smiled a vicious smile at Chenda. “I could go back in again. Was there anything in there you wanted?”

Chenda gave a nervous chuckle. “No, thank you.” She thought for a second more. “Why did he think that I was your wife?”

“Ah, well, it's your face. When he saw me follow you in, he assumed that I am just the average Tugrulian man and put those bruises on you. It's a common hobby among husbands in the empire. They beat their women. A lot.” Verdu's voice dripped with disgust. “But worst of all, they make the women think they deserve it. Eventually they start believe it, too.”

Chenda's heart felt tight as she imagined a continent of abused women. She turned her eyes to Verdu's and saw he felt the shame of it dearly.

“Let's be moving on,” he said. “Keep your arms folded across your chest and stare down any hawker who gets too pushy. Most of them are quite harmless. Besides, Fen and I are right behind you. There is a lot more to see.”

The group moved from stall to stall, looking at goods from across the globe: repair parts for airships and boats, books and maps, exotic animals, chemicals, spices, fabrics and weapons. Chenda heard languages she didn't recognize and saw many people conducting business entirely in gestures.

Chenda quickly began to understand the basic rhythm of the market, the push and pull between buyers and sellers. It wasn't like the fancy shops she visited in Coal City, where every object had a price, and you either could afford it or you left. Here the peddlers watched to see what a buyer was interested in, then guessed the highest price they could get from that particular shopper. The first asking price would be absurdly high. Then the dance would begin. Haggle. Swagger. Feigned loss of interest. Give and take. Finally, a bargain would be struck.

She even tried her hand at the negotiations herself when she found a few clean shirts at a Mae-Lyn merchant's stall. Chenda dickered well enough to get the trader to come down by half, but Verdu was horrified when he realized how much she paid in the end. “For what you plunked down on two shirts, I could have had ten, Chenda!”

“Maybe,” Chenda said with pride, “But you are not the one that smells like last week's garbage. I needed something fresh and clean.” She pulled one of the new shirts on over her stinky one, and wiggled around until she could pull off the soiled layer below. “How do I look?”

Fenimore looked at Chenda's new, heavily embroidered blouse. “It suits you. Very colorful.” Verdu mirrored Fenimore's nod, but Chenda wasn't sure if it was Verdu showing agreement or just moving in uncontrollable tandem again.

Chenda looked at the dirty shirt in her hand. “I have half a mind to throw this one into the lagoon, but it's not my shirt.”

Candice laughed and said, “Don't feel like you need to rush to get it back to me. I can wait until it's doesn't smell like my sophomore class on a hot day.”

The four continued to browse, but soon reached the end of the market. Lingering there, they looked out over the shallow lagoon. Several rough buildings led away from where they stood, but farther down the arc of the atoll were a few larger buildings. These had lights and music flowing out their doors and onto decks that stretched out over the water.

“The night is still young,” Fenimore said, noticing where Chenda and Candice were gazing. “What's your pleasure?”

Candice pointed ahead to the largest building. “What's that?”

“McNees's Opera House,” Fenimore answered, “But you ladies wouldn't want to go there.”

Candice and Chenda looked at one another, and their eyes registered their mutual curiosity. Chenda could also see a glint from Candice that said she wasn't about to let a man tell here where she didn't want to go.

“Yes. We do,” Candice said as Chenda nodded vigorously.

Verdu looked meaningfully at Fenimore. “I suppose it would be fine if we just take a second and see if Lincoln and Stanley are keeping out of trouble. Perhaps seeing us inside will remind them of the time, and that they have a strict deadline tonight. It would be very wrong of us to leave our companions outside while we went in to check on our young shipmates, don't you think?”