On Discord Isle (19 page)

“That was how we got the drop on you near the Silverpenny six months ago,” said Maxim. He gave a shrug.

“Madness,” replied Konrad. The big aetherite looked impressed.

“It was not fun,” agreed Maxim. He faced Lucian again. “That was not ‘whistling up a cloud.’ It was cooling of a large mass of aether. I could do it again, perhaps. It’s going to stink, though, the convection ratio—”

Lucian waved him to quiet. “You just had to say ‘yes,’ Maxim. I’ve no need for the details. Work it out with Konrad. So long as we can fool a few tired lookouts, that’s good enough.”

The aetherites shared a look. Maxim then tried to catch Lucian’s gaze. “We would have to pool everything we have. And you really should know how this would work. It will leave us largely without any remaining Workings. Amassing enough moisture via Thorp’s Interroluction—”

“Yes, yes,” interrupted Reaver Jane. “Enough aetherite gibberish.” She gave Lucian a pointed look as Maxim lapsed into irritated silence. “Where are we going to actually go?”

Lucian pointed out at the city, past it, to the thick jungles of the Yulan Interior. “We are going to some nice, out-of-the way anchorage for the day. Some place the townies never go unless they have to.”

Lina stared at the dark horizon past the Stormwall. The jungle lay there, full of strangeness and hostility. Her unease deepened. Turning, she slipped away from knot of committee-members before Lucian give some weird, arbitrary order to
her
. She moved down the deck to her normal station along the starboard gunwales, where the exhaust pipe to the steam boiler emerged. Runt lay coiled there as usual, napping. The scryn opened one black eye as he heard her bootsteps. She held out one arm and Runt unwound, springing up to land roughly on her shoulder. Lina grunted and tried to find her balance as the creature crawled his accustomed way around her scrawny frame.

Maybe we shouldn’t have left them there.
Lina was beginning to regret her original suggestion to strand the captains while they made this trip. Finding the whole damned Perinese Navy waiting in port should have alarmed the committee, not to mention the rest of the crew. Instead, only a few had seemed even a little put off. Lucian had barely given any thought before just ordering them ahead, preparing to dive right into the mess without even knowing what was really going on down in the colony.

But what can I do?
Lina sighed aloud to herself and scratched Runt along his neck. The scryn chirped happily and wriggled, an uncomfortable, wormy sensation across her neck and shoulders that she still hadn’t gotten used to.

Sarah Lome ordered the few lights on deck doused. Loose chains, or anything else that could have made noise, were tightened and secured. Lina watched in trepidation as the
Dawnhawk
prepared to pass over the city. A low, steady vibration started below the deck as the steam engine hidden there was stoked back into action. The skysails were pulled in, and a gentle whirr started as the propellers at the back of the ship began to spin.

Up at the bow of the ship, the aetherites worked their magic. Konrad and Maxim stood up at the bow with arms spread wide. Maxim exhaled, and a frosty white vapor spilled down and out over the bow, billowing as it went. Konrad did the same. Presumably, this would shroud the hull of the
Dawnhawk
. Lina didn’t really trust it. She probably should have known more about aetherite magic by now, but like the rest of the crew, had little care to. She knew it was potent, knew there were ‘rules,’ and most importantly, knew that it tended to make the aetherite using it crazy. Though both Maxim and Konrad did seem unusually mellow of late.

Lina wrinkled her nose as the scent of the arcane mists reached her. Why did aetherite magic always have to stink so?

The harbor grew as the
Dawnhawk
approached. They lost altitude, dropping from a thousand feet above the fleet to a mere hundred. The move was unfortunate, though Lina knew why they were doing this, at least. The Stormwall could be climbed and even passed through, but it had only been Captain Fengel’s quick thinking and a heaping dose of good luck that they’d survived the one time it had been tried. Even then, the airship they’d flown on had been damaged beyond repair. Down this low, the
Dawnhawk
could slip past the raging winds without any fear of getting sucked into them. Though this did put them uncomfortably within musket range to anyone on the ground. They’d be safe from that, though, so long as everyone kept their heads down.

Not that this is a great idea.
Someone was bound to see them. And then the alarm would raise, and they wouldn’t be able to raid the counting house successfully, and this whole trip would be a colossal waste of time.

Rastalak gave a small hiss of wonder from his post up the deck. Someone shushed him and Lina glanced over the side. Reefed topsails poked up at her, and a crow’s nest went by so close that she could almost reach out and touch it. The
Dawnhawk
was passing directly over the warships in the harbor.

The assembled vessels of the navy almost seemed like a floating forest, with each mast a skeletal tree poking up at the belly of their airship. Ship after ship drifted by beneath, each one loaded with enough cannons and crewmen to sail to a far-off land, and conquer it. Thankfully, most of the sailors she saw were taking catnaps when they should have been on watch. Lina knew that would mean the lash if they were caught. Those that weren’t asleep played cards with their mates, or told each other rude jokes and stories.

Past the harbor loomed the worked stone of the city wharf. More warships sat there at rest, quiet and ominous in the early gloom. Lina caught her breath at the sight of a lone watch officer striding up and down the nearest pier, directly beneath the
Dawnhawk’s
path.

The officer whistled as he stalked the pier, clearly bored, not expecting anything unusual. Lina glanced at her crewmates. A few had of them had spied the soldier. Ryan Gae frowned. Tricia and Elly Minel shared a grimace. Rastalak watched with reptilian patience. There was little any of them could do. They passed overhead and the officer stopped his pacing, cocking his head. Lina was acutely aware now of the airship propeller’s whirr.

He never looked up, however. The
Dawnhawk
flew past him and beyond the docks into the city. Somehow they had avoided notice. Lina sighed in relief and turned her attention to their destination, blinking in surprise as she took in the great barricades arranged to face the colony. It seemed that Breachtown was under siege, or at least considered hostile by the navy.

The scents of old smoke reached Lina’s nose as they flew past the first dock buildings. Taverns, brothels, warehouses, and all those structures that were a common part of port life were burned and ruined wrecks. Some still stood after a fashion, charred timber frames jutting out of the ground like a burned matchstick forest. Most were simple piles of ash and rubble.

Lina peered into the gloom of the colony, Runt sniffing past her head at the air.
What happened here?
Six months ago they’d passed through Breachtown on their way out of the Yulan Interior. They hadn’t bothered with any subterfuge then. Just flown through in the light of day as fast as they could, keeping their heads down to avoid any stray gunfire sent their way. They needn’t have even worried. The colony had been a chaotic mess, still reeling from the aftermath of an aborted rebellion. Apparently, news of that event had finally reached the King back in Perinault.

The damage was less severe past the waterfront. A few houses had their windows broken and boarded up. None were ruined by fire. Though few lights burned in any of the houses she saw, they were far from empty. Lina spied a cluster of pup tents laid out in orderly rows across one lawn, campfire coals glimmering red in the dark. Other hints of occupation made themselves apparent. The Royal Marines were certainly present in Breachtown in force.

Shots rang out in some distant part of the city. Shouts followed them, and then the sound of wooden doors being battered down. Lina frowned. It was a raid, not a cry of alarm at the airship’s passing.
Still.

Lina glanced up to Ryan Gae’s position near the bow. The older pirate watched the city curiously, not a hint of alarm on his rustic features. She glanced about the rest of the deck. Rastalak had climbed the rigging to peer at the human city. Near the equipment locker, Andrea Holt pinched her nose, more concerned about the stink of the aetherite’s spell than anything else. On the port side of the ship, the Wiley twins were seeing who could spit the farthest. No one seemed wary.

Lina tried to relax.
Is it just me?
There was little that might happen if they were spotted, at least immediately. The navies of the world had yet to develop an effective countermeasure against the Haventown airships. Cannons were built to fire at other ocean-going vessels. Muskets did too little damage, though every pirate was wary of the stray ball. But the counting house raid hinged on surprise and remaining undiscovered. If the force occupying the town knew the
Dawnhawk
was here, they’d increase security on the streets to the point that breaking into the counting house would be impossible. And they had come so far….

Movement up near the bow caught her attention. Maxim slumped and grabbed at the gunwales, coughing. Konrad shortly followed suit. Their arcane mist evaporated. Sarah Lome, pacing in her usual place, noticed. She walked over to them and bent over, asking short, sharp questions that Lina was too far away to hear. All she saw was Konrad, shaking his head.

Lucian and Reaver Jane had noticed as well. They moved up to meet with the gunnery mistress as she stalked back to them, happily now within earshot of Lina’s post.

“They say they’re spent,” said Sarah Lome.

“Tell them that’s not an option,” replied Reaver Jane. “We need that mist.”

“That won’t work,” said Lucian. He tapped his chin in thought, then shrugged. “It’s still dark out. We should be fine. Let’s push on through.”

“Are you crazed?” asked Sarah Lome. She slashed a hand out at the night. “We’ve no cover, and the city is infested with Bluecoats.”

“But what can they do?” asked Reaver Jane. “Point and us and shout?”

“Yes,” said Sarah Lome. “Precisely. If we’re noticed then this whole plan fails. We won’t be able to sneak in over the counting house long enough to hoist the loot. You
know
that.”

Reaver Jane snorted. “Perinese. Please. Let ’em try to stop us.”

Sarah Lome made a fist. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Sarah,” interrupted Lucian. “We’re already this far in. What else can we do?”

She stared at him, then shook her head. “This whole mess has been a bad idea from the start. We never should have gotten rid of the captains.” Sarah Lome stalked away back up the deck. As she went, she shot a glare at Lina, holding it until Jonas Wiley let out a hoot of laughter; apparently Nate Wiley had spit exceptionally far.

Lucian watched her go with a shrug, then returned to where Henry Smalls held the helm steady. Reaver Jane kept her place, narrowing her eyes after the huge gunnery mistress.

Lina took a breath and looked again to the city. Runt chirped and rubbed his face against her cheek.
Great,
she mused.
Just great.
 

The
Dawnhawk
kept its course for the jungles of the Yulan. They flew over cobblestone streets and narrow, tightly spaced houses. Nate Wiley gave a whispered cry on the far side of the deck and the crew gathered together to peer past his outstretched arm. From the excited, over-loud whispers, Lina discerned that they could see Breachtown Counting House up relatively close now, the goal of this whole trip. Lina realized that she didn’t care.

A tall, three-story building appeared ahead on the starboard side of the airship. It was square with a bell tower atop the low, almost flat roof. From each of the four corners rose a turret, connected to each other by long battlements. The battlement walkways converged on the bell tower, forming a cross when seen up above. What windows the structure did have were thin and positioned high on the third floor. This could only be the Breachtown Armory.

Lina peered at the building. The turrets were obvious watch posts, but she didn’t see anyone moving about upon them. At the same time, the Bluecoats didn’t exactly stand out in the pre-dawn dark that shrouded the city.

Allen tromped up beside her, his boot steps louder than the whirring of the ship’s propellers. The young Mechanist still held the rockfruit in one hand. In his other he had a heavy wrench.

“So,” said Allen, voice forcibly light. “I was wondering....”

“Not now,” Lina hissed.

He blinked. “What?”

Lina glared at him. “We’re passing by the armory. Keep quiet, we can’t afford to be seen.”

“Oh,” he said. He peered around into the night. “Aren’t we through the city yet?”

She glared at him. “What? Look!” Lina gestured out off the edge of the airship.

 Allen leaned over and started. “Oh,” he replied. “I guess we are, then. I was down below helping with the boiler. Then I had to find a wrench for this fruit. Hello there.”

Lina frowned, then she realized that Allen’s last words hadn’t been directed at her. He was waggling the spanner back and forth in a wave down at someone down below. Lina felt her heart leap in her throat. She leaned over the gunwales to look.

The
Dawnhawk
was just now passing the Armory. They were so close that she could see into the nearest parapet turret. As she’d expected, a watch-post was setup within. And in it was a Bluecoat, staring up at them.

He was middle-aged and a little portly. Lina hadn’t seen him on the approach because he was laying down, napping with a small pony-keg breached next to him. He was awake now, though, and he stared back at the airship above him, giving a small, puzzled wave back to the young Mechanist. Then he scrambled to his feet.

Lina yelled back at the helm. “We’re made!”