City in the Sky (6 page)

The other four seemed to pause, their eyes locked on Erik. “Another bloody half-breed?” the leader snarled. “Twice the prize today, lads. One for the balls, one for the purse, eh?”

The crudity finally did it for Erik. So far, he'd been trying
not
to kill these thugs, for all that they were attempted rapists. Somehow, the thought that being mixed blood made him – and the woman on the ground, for that matter – nothing more than
things
to be raped or robbed at will put an end to his charity.

The thugs had long arms and long knives. But the longest knife is shorter than any sword, and a smallsword isn't
that
short a weapon. Erik's lunge crossed the space between him and the thugs' leader in moments, and the sword drove deep into the man's chest.

No bone got in the way this time, and Erik
felt
the tip of the blade punch out the man's back. For a long moment, it was a frozen tableau as the man blinked, a look of complete and utter shock on his face. Then the corpse slowly slid down and off Erik's blade.

Even as the corpse began to move, so did the nearest knifeman. Erik saw the dagger flashing towards him and knew he wasn't going to get his sword out in time. Then an incredibly loud CRACK filled the alleyway and the thug's head exploded.

Every head flashed towards the woman who'd been the start of the confrontation. She'd only managed to get herself up to one knee, but the heavy Dwarven fire-pistol she held leveled over her left forearm didn't
need
her to stand. The barrel twisted onto the remaining thugs.

“Between his blade and this gun, you're dead,” she hissed softly, her voice hoarse. “Fuck off or die.”

As the footsteps of the would-be rapists vanished off into the distance, Erik slowly wiped his sword clean and faced her, wordlessly. She'd just saved his life, but if he hadn't turned up, she'd been facing worse than knives.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, gesturing at the gun. “This thing only has one shot. If you hadn't been here, they'd have succeeded in their plans.”

“I couldn't just walk by,” Erik told her.

“Perhaps not,” she said enigmatically. She reached inside her cloak and removed something. “Give me your hand,” she instructed. Erik hesitated and she shook her head. “I'm not going to hurt you,” she said quietly, “give me your hand.”

He did, and she pressed something into it. “If you ever find yourself in Garria,” she told him, “show this to any Ranger or Priest of Edril and tell them Ariana gave it to you.”

“Ariana,” he said quietly, rolling the syllables over his tongue. “I am Erik Tarverro.”

“I know,” she replied with an enigmatic smile. “And I know we will meet again. Gods keep you till that time.”

With that, she bowed to him and started to walk away, heading out of the darkened alley.

“Wait!” he called after her.

She kept walking, as if she hadn't heard him. Erik started after her, but stopped. If she didn't want to speak to him, that was her right. A tingle in his hand reminded him of her gift and he looked down at it.

It was a pair of crystals, dark enough to seem black even to his eyes in the dim starlight. They were formed into two interlocking circles. It was a symbol of some kind, but Erik didn't recognize it.

The groan of the man he'd crippled brought him back to where he was, and to what he'd just done. He stumbled to the side of the alley and was violently sick, emptying his guts and continuing to heave even after there was nothing left. He'd just killed a man and crippled another for life. With a shove, he moved away from the wall wiping his mouth and surveying the alley. It was time and past time for him to get out of here.

Which, he realized, applied to far more than just this alley. Ariana, whoever she was, had been far too short to be the pure Duredine her ears had suggested. The thugs had been correct in their estimate of her as a half-blood. Like him.

She'd been attacked for that 'sin'. Attacked for the ‘crime’ of being a mix of races. That sort of attack boded ill for his continued safety in Vidran. He knew little to nothing of the realm of the Aeradi, but he could presume, for now at least, that half-bloods were at least not
attacked
there for being what they were.

It was time for him to find his father's people.

In the end, it wasn't difficult for Erik to convert his decision into action. He hadn't taken any new contracts since Ikeras had made his offer, and a few days effort cleared most of his old ones, leaving him with nothing legally binding him to Vidran.

Other bonds, of course, were not so easily cleared. While his grandfather had told him to make his own decision and supported the one he'd made, he knew the old man was unhappy to see him go.

Nonetheless, Byron had helped him clear out his accounts, dispose of most of his effects and sum up his funds. He'd also pressed a significant sum on Erik as his share of the shop's profits over the last few years. Once it was all told, Erik found himself in possession of nearly two
thousand
gold marks – over thirty pounds of gold – a small fortune by any standards. A lot of the money came from the sale of his collection of weapons, which he saw no way to take to Newport.

He kept the sky steel rapier he'd originally forged for Rade, but that was the only one of his extensive weapons collection and 'sample wares' that he kept. He'd never been much of one for large numbers of clothes or bric-a-brac, and once he'd packed everything up, all of it fit in one small ironbound chest for the money, and one large trunk for his things.

They seemed a very small space to contain everything he'd acquired in twenty-one years of life and work, but he'd traveled with even less during his early days as a journeyman, when he'd actually journeyed. Of course, he'd left a great deal of it at home then.

It took him all of the week he had to make the arrangements, but they were made. The night that Ikeras was supposed to be back in town, he returned to the Iron Hammer.

The lights of the tavern spilled out onto the street and Erik paused at the edge of the shadow, watching the revelers. Most of the men in the tavern were smiths, and he knew many of them. There were few of them he'd count as friends, but he did know them.

Tomorrow, he'd leave them all behind. He'd already made the decision, but he still hesitated at the edge of the light. Once he'd entered the tavern, he could not go back. He'd be giving up everything on the hope of a better life somewhere else.

Not that 'everything' was all that much here. His lips twisted in disgust. Not even the nostalgia of being about to leave it behind could make his life here look good. His grandfather had been the only one who'd truly supported him. All of his skill had got him nowhere in the guild of his craft. No, there was nothing here for him. Nothing at all.

With a deep breath, Erik stepped into the light spilling out from the tavern and entered the old building. He stopped on the threshold, blinking in the bright light from the lamps lighting the inside of the tavern, and searched for Ikeras.

He was easy enough to find. The Aeraid was sitting at the exact same table he'd been at last time, but this time his only companion was an older, grey-haired Aeraid. They spotted him at the same time as he saw them, and Ikeras gestured him over.

Erik joined them, silently taking a seat at the table and regarding the two Aeradi levelly. Ikeras returned the gaze calmly, but his companion's gaze seemed to have a measuring edge to it.

“Have you made up your mind?” Ikeras finally asked.

“Yes,” Erik said quietly. “I'm coming with you.”

Ikeras nodded and gestured to the man with him. “Erik Tarverro, be known to Miki Halare, Captain of the
Blue Ascendance
, our ship.”

Halare inclined his head. “It is an honor to finally meet you. I knew your father, long ago – hell, he saved my life once. I'd be pleased to give you a ride to Newport.”

“I can pay,” Erik told him.

The Aeraidi captain waved away the thought. “As I said, your father saved my life. I won't take a penny from his son for this. Though I will,” he raised a finger to emphasize the point, “expect you to help out aboard the ship.”

Erik looked at the captain for a moment, assessing the man's words. “Thank you,” he said finally. “Perhaps someday you can tell me of my father.”

“I'll do so gladly, son, once we're underway,” Halare told him. “I presume you have baggage?”

“Two trunks, at my grandfather's house,” Erik replied.

“We'll deal with those in the morning,” the captain said calmly and gestured to the barmaid, who laid three mugs of ale on the table before them. “For now, let us toast the memory of your father, and the hope of your future among the People of the Sky.”

Erik's last day in Vidran passed in a blur of activity. Captain Halare lent him two porters and a wagon they used for offloading cargo, and he'd collected his pair of trunks from his grandfather's house. His grandfather hadn't been there – unwilling, Erik suspected, to really accept that his grandson was truly leaving.

They'd offloaded his trunks onto the
Blue Ascendance
and then the porters had left for other duties. Ikeras had then promptly arrived and handed Erik a list of items he would need for the voyage. The Aeraid had then taken Erik into the dock section of the Trade Quarter to find them.

Hours later, Erik found himself carrying a new trunk aboard the ship. Its contents were mainly new waterproof garments he would have rarely – if ever – required in Vidran, and a metal lantern designed to prevent oil spills, highly dangerous on a wooden ship.

Finally, as the sun sank below the horizon, Erik sat on the prow of the
Blue Ascendance
watching the last light on the waves. The ship rocked gently to the waves in a cold breeze. Shivering against the cold, he wrapped his new oilskin cape around himself.

He'd made his choice and there was no turning back now. In the morning, they'd leave with the early tide and he'd likely never come back to Vidran. He could only hope that he would find a place for himself in Newport.

The ship's gentle motion lulled him, and Erik rested there for a long time.

Brane stared at his agent in shock. He'd come to Vidran, to this cursed port town on the northern edge of the continent where the blood seemed to freeze in one's veins, to oversee the elimination of his brother's killer.

“How could you
lose
him?” he demanded. “He was a smith. He had a shop. Where did he
go
?”

“We don't know,” the agent, a tall Draconan named Dairn, admitted. “One day he suddenly stopped taking orders, and a week and a half later, he was
gone
.”

“Find him,” Brane snarled. “Track him to the ends of the world if need be, but find me the bastard who murdered my brother!”

“All that can be done is being done,” Dairn protested. At Brane's ice-cold gaze, the agent wilted. “We know where his grandfather is,” he offered, as a sop of some kind.

“No,” Brane told him. “I do not believe in justice by proxy. Leave the old fart alone. It's Tarverro I want.”

“Well, sir, it is possible...” the agent, whose cover job was as a trader, trailed off.

“What?” Brane demanded.

“If he
is
a Tarverro – we know where that line is from.”

“He's a half-blood. Would he return there?” Brane asked.

“Where else could he have gone?”

“Where else indeed?” Brane repeated. “Where else indeed?” His eyes were cold. “Burn the man if he has.”

“Sir?” Dairn queried. “We have men there.”

“They cannot be exposed,” Brane replied. “Not even for this. Not even for Rade.” He raised his hand and pointed a finger at the agent. “Find the man. Even if he hides among his father's people, find him. We may not be able to touch him there, but if he leaves that city in the sky…”

Two

Five days out of Vidran, Erik was reminded why the Aeradi ships were called
sky
ships. He stood on the deck, helping the crew deal with the sails as best as he could – mainly a matter of standing still and holding a rope for them. Short for a human, Erik still towered over the
Blue Ascendance
's Aeradi crew. Combined with a blacksmith's muscles, that made him the best anchor they had.

He was looking out along the ship's course and spotted what looked like a huge gray cloud on the horizon, stretching from the ocean into the sky. Just as he noticed it, the bosun's pipes twittered in a signal he hadn't heard before, and every man on the sails tied up what they were working on and slid down to the deck.

In less than a minute, they went from having nearly twenty men aloft to every single member of the crew standing on the deck. Erik opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but was gestured to quiet by a member of the crew.

Moments later, a crystal embedded in the mainmast began to glow a bright white color. Similar crystals in the fore and aft masts, positioned at a lesser height, followed it. Then, to Erik's consternation, the ship began to lift out of the water.

The crystals held a steady brightness as the ship rose, and Erik could
hear
the water sluicing off the hull and scattering across the waves, and then the thump of water rushing together as the bottom of the keel lifted out of the water.

“All right you slackers,” the bosun announced, “we're skyborne. Which means you lot can get to cleaning the decks and hull. I want this ship to
shine
when we reach port!”

Erik slowly walked over to the edge of the ship and looked over it. The ship was now easily a hundred feet into the air, and still rapidly rising, leaving the water far beneath. It was both stunning and terrifying.

“Impressive, isn't it?” Ikeras said from behind him. “I asked the crew not to warn you – I wanted to see your face the first time we went skyborne. Tells you a lot about a man, how he reacts to being a thousand feet in the air.”

“It's incredible,” Erik said softly. “How is it done?”

“The most complex piece of air magic anyone not a Melder is likely to see,” Ikeras replied. “If you wander down into the hull, there's a long room in the center containing the primary lift crystals. There's about six relay crystals positioned around the hull, and those three,” he pointed out the glowing crystals above their heads, “in the masts.”

“How high can we go?” Erik asked.

“Higher than you can breathe,” Ikeras replied dryly. “There's a few specialized ships with crystals to provide some kind of air supply and pressure, but they're few and far between, and, honestly, there isn't much use for them.” He shrugged. “The crystals only last so long until they need to be replaced. That's why we sailed most of the way.”

“Why aren't we sailing now then?”

Ikeras snorted. “How exactly do you think you enter a
sky city
without flying, son?” he answered with a grin.

Erik had no answer.

As the hours drew by, Erik watched the sky city of Newport slowly grow into visibility. The main portion of what he'd thought was a cloud turned out to be the massive floating island on which the Aeradi had built most of their city.

Erik had no inclination to even try and guess the diameter of the island, but the city built on its back was substantial. Eerily tall crystal spires marked the center of the city, the only structures visible over the heavy, tower-studded, stone walls that encircled the edge of the island.

Beneath the crystal- and stone-adorned floating island, three immense pillars of crystal and stone descended in majestically imposing grace to a second city below. Each of the pillars had to be at least a thousand feet across, and as they drew closer, Erik saw the lights of some sort of buildings
inside
the pillars.

The second city, the lower one, was built on massive floating wooden platforms. Where the structures above were made of stone and crystal, and surrounded by heavy walls to boot, these were built mostly of wood, with only a handful of crystal and almost no stone or brick structures.

The sun was already dimming towards sunset, and in the fading light, the city
glowed
in its own lights. Erik could see almost all of the lower city, and even there streetlights marked broad avenues where the wood appeared to be covered by some stone-like material. The higher city was mostly hidden by its walls, but even before the skyship rose high enough to see over them, Erik could see a corona of glowing lights glittering over the city and tracing paths up the sides of the crystal spires.

The
Blue Ascendance
swept above and around the city, to where Erik saw a huge set of docks, glittering in crystal and sky steel, extending out nearly a mile from the western edge of the island.

The ship slowly flew in towards the docks, and the crew turned out on deck once more, coiling ropes and preparing to anchor the ship. As they approached an empty dock, the
Blue Ascendance
slowed even more and gently slid up between the doubled pier of the Aeradi-style dock. The crew immediately got to work, slinging ropes out around heavy pylons and securing the ship as strongly as possible.

As they finished, a group of dock-hands arrived, led by a man in dark blue robes who Erik guessed to be the aligner responsible for the crystal magic of the dock. The aligner stepped up to the pylons and touched them in certain patterns. Erik watched carefully and saw beams of a dark blue light slide out from hexagonal crystals placed in the center of the pylons. Twelve beams touched the edge of the ship's hull and then seemed to somehow solidify. When they did, all motion of the ship – that, even with the lift crystals active and the ropes, had been shaking gently in the wind – stopped.

Erik was stunned from his reverie by Ikeras clapping him on the shoulder. “That's that,” he said calmly. “Get your things, and I'll take you to meet your grandmother.”

The young smith blanched. Between the busy activity of the journey, and then his awe at the sheer size and glory of the city, Erik had completely forgotten that he was supposed to be meeting his father's family.

The neighborhood Ikeras took him to was located close enough to the docks that they walked rather than hiring one of the horse-drawn carriages that had seemed to materialize out of nowhere when the ship had been secured. Despite its proximity to the docks, it was clear that
this
, unlike most of the areas nearby, was not where the ship crews lived. This was a neighborhood for ships’ officers, captains and for merchants who wanted to keep in touch which the source of their wealth.

The trees lining even the poorer streets in this entirely artificial environment were new to Erik – Vidran had parks, and the single Duredine city he'd visited had been built
in
trees, but that many trees – all of which had to have been imported – were still amazing to him.

This neighborhood’s street was something else again, even beyond that. Where even in Garria, roads had simply been divided by a simple guide-rope, this street was fully split into two parts by an earthen divider lined with oak trees that were easily two or three hundred years old.

The houses themselves, while seemingly smaller than many of the ones outside the cul-de-sac were set back from the road behind well-groomed lines of bushes unlike anything he'd seen before. Similar bushes appeared to divide the houses from each other.

All of the greenery, combined with the imposing stone edifices of the houses, gave across a strong impression of wealth and arrogance. Unfortunately, for that impression, a group of children ranging in age from almost-toddlers clear up to teenagers was engaged in a rambunctious game involving large amounts of screaming, running, and tree-climbing.

One of the older teens nearly ran clear into Erik, but managed to pull herself to a stop in time, grinning up at the half-blood, and froze as she saw Ikeras.

“Uncle Harmon!” she shouted. Moments later, the doughty Aeraid found himself covered in excited kids demanding to know where he'd been, when he'd got back, and if he had anything for them.

It took Ikeras a few minutes to detach himself, but he then produced a bag of sweets and handed them out, being careful to equitably distribute them before shooing the children on their way.

Four of the older teens remained, looking strangely at Erik. Finally, the girl who'd first seen Ikeras spoke up. “Who's your friend, Uncle Ikeras?”

Ikeras grinned. “Erik, be known to Shelli Norit, Bran Norit, Liki Shelt and Kir
hept
Dralon. All of their families are
kep
to
sept
Tarvarro. As,” he added with a shrug, “is my own, for that matter.” He turned back to the children. “This is Erik Tarverro, kids.”

“
Tarverro
?” the boy introduced as Kir questioned. When Ikeras nodded, he turned to Erik and bowed deeply. The others, to Erik's consternation, followed suit. “Well come, my lord. Well come indeed.”

Before Erik could reply, the four teens finished their bows and scampered off to try and bring the younger children under control.

“What did you mean by
kep
to
sept
Tarverro?” Erik asked softly.

“It's not my place to tell you,” Ikeras replied with a shrug. “Like I said, Arien deserves to see you first, and she's the one to explain all that.”

“Arien?” Erik asked.

“Your grandmother.”

When Erik spotted the building at the end of the cul-de-sac, he had figured that that massive, brooding edifice of crystal and stone was their destination. However, shortly before they reached the mansion, Ikeras stopped and turned onto a side path, leading to a small stone house set well back in the trees.

“Who lives in the mansion?” Erik had to ask.

“No one,” Ikeras replied. “Well, that's not true. There's a small maintenance staff that keeps the place up, but no one really
lives
there anymore. It's the Tarverro family seat, but your grandmother's refused to live there since your grandfather died – said it was too empty without him.”

Taking a glance back at the building –
his
family's seat? – Erik could understand that sentiment. Living alone in that house would have been a recipe for insanity. A
fast
recipe.

His preoccupation with the mansion distracted Erik until he was at the doorstep of the house Ikeras had brought him to. Ikeras using the heavy doorknocker on the door brought his attention back to this house. An odd symbol decorated the doorknocker – three crystals splaying downwards, forming a triangle. The symbol was familiar, but Erik couldn't place it.

“This was the guest house, “Ikeras told him quietly, “until Arien moved out of the main house. Now this is her place.”

Erik swallowed hard as the door opened, and a young Skywoman, dressed in green and black appeared. “Yes?” she said calmly, and then caught sight of Ikeras. “Harmon!” she exclaimed. “Come in, come in. When did you get back?”

“About two hours ago, Shel,” the older Aeraid told the girl. “Is Her Ladyship in?”

The girl – Shel – nodded. “She doesn't go out much these days. She says there's no reason.”

“Can you tell her I'm here to see her?” he asked.

“Of course!” Shel replied, looking at Erik with an odd expression on her face. “Do I know you?” she asked.

Erik inclined his head slightly. “I'm afraid not, miss.”

“I'll explain later, Shel,” Ikeras told the girl. “But do me a favor, and don't mention him to Her Ladyship, hmm?”

“Certainly,” the girl replied with an impish grin. “Head through to the waiting room, I'll go find Lady Arien.”

Ikeras led Erik through to a plushly decorated room with neatly arranged furniture in deep green cloth and dark wood. He then seated Erik with a courtier's grace, adding to Erik's suspicions that Ikeras had a higher place in this odd little community than he'd stated.

The sound of footsteps caused Erik's gaze to turn to the entrance towards the rest of the house, which meant he received his first look at Lady Arien
septol
Tarverro. His first impression of her was her height and elegance – even for an Aeradi, she was short, three inches or more under five feet. Her silver hair swept halfway down the back of her dark green dress, bound back by simple silver bands. She seemed the perfectly poised aristocrat, and Erik could not even begin to conceive that
this
woman was his grandmother.

Then she located Ikeras in the room, and Erik began to believe. The tiny woman almost seemed to fly across the room to drag the bigger man into her arms. “Harmon! When did you get back, you silly sailor?”

“About two hours ago,” Ikeras told her dryly, carefully setting her back on her feet.