Skykeep (14 page)

“Having fun over there?” Lil asked with a
snort.

“I may have overestimated my suppleness,”
Nita said.

“Hang on. I’ll bet you’re plenty supple. You
just need a little help is all,” Lil said.

Lil stood and shuffled over to Nita and
turned aside, propping her hip against the back of Nita’s thigh.
“You let me know if I need to let up, all right?”

Nita nodded and Lil shoved a bit, helping to
fold Nita just a bit further in half. It wasn’t comfortable, but it
was enough for her to get the chain up over her leg irons and, with
some difficulty, past her own heels. The ship chose that moment to
lurch aside with a sharp turn, and with both of the girls in a
somewhat precarious position, they lost their balance and tumbled
to the ground in a tangle. They were just untangling when the ship
shifted again, this time with a steady and constant tilt in one
direction.

“Feels like they’re bringing this thing to a
stop,” Lil said, struggling to her feet and helping Nita to do the
same.

“What do you think they mean to do with us?”
Nita said. “They must not want us dead, or they wouldn’t have put
these masks on us.”

“That just means they don’t want us to die
from the fug. I reckon they have something more elaborate in mind
for us. The fuggers are always real fond of making examples of
folks, and we’d be a couple of good ones.”

She shuffled to the door and stood on tiptoe
to look out through the slot.

“There’s… two, three… five guards along the
hall there. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many in one place
before. Kind of makes you feel good, knowing how many they think
it’d take to keep us in line,” Lil said. “Hey! You twisted,
stinking purple-breathers! You know who you got in here, right?
We’re the crew that knocked that dreadnought of yours out of the
sky! And we weren’t even
trying
! What do you reckon we’re
going to do to you? What do you reckon the cap’n’s gonna do when he
finds out you took two of his finest? I’d sleep with one eye open,
boys, because the
Wind Breaker
’s coming for you. Mark my
words!” She turned to Nita. “Never hurts to let them know who
they’re dealing with.”

The tilt of the ship finally seemed to even
out, and there came the subtle rocks and jerks of a ship being
moored. Nita joined Lil at the door to look upon their guards. Each
of them shared the almost interchangeable features of their race.
They were all terribly thin, their skin tight, drawn, and papery.
Long, skeletal fingers and tall, hunched postures made them seem
frail, but anyone who had come to blows with one knew that they
were no weaker than their surface-dwelling counterparts. The guards
were layered with dark blue uniforms that were generously padded to
protect against the sort of things that Lil no doubt had in mind.
They also wore helmets and dark goggles. While the bulk of the
uniforms made them appear almost imposing, it also underscored the
apparent frailness of their hands and faces. Each was armed with a
stout wooden baton.

“Heh. All they got is sticks,” Lil said. “We
can take them, easy.”

Nita couldn’t tell of Lil was joking, which
she supposed was likely for the benefit of the guards. There was
something surreal about a short, scrawny young woman trying to
intimidate a cluster of tall, scrawny men. The strangeness was
interrupted not long after when a door at the far end of the hall
opened. The person who entered was clearly the commander of the
group. He stood a bit taller than the rest, dressed in an outfit
that seemed to have been devised as an attempt to combine the
attire of a businessman and a general. The suit was impeccably
tailored to the fug person’s serpentine physique. It was gray, with
matching vest and bow tie, but black braiding had been added to the
shoulders, and an assortment of awards and commendations had been
pinned to the left side of the narrow chest. The whole of the
ensemble was topped by a sharp-brimmed hat with a flat,
backward-sloping top and an insignia depicting a winged cage on the
front. He was notably the only one in the hall to be armed with a
firearm, a small but ornate pistol that peeked out from the bottom
of his jacket.

As tended to be the case on airships, the
hall was only truly wide enough for at best two people to walk side
by side, and that was being generous. With guards on either side,
the maneuvers necessary for the newcomer to approach would have
been comical if they hadn’t been so expertly choreographed. As he
approached each pair of guards, they would turn and step back,
standing at attention and pressing against the wall at the same
time, thus creating enough of an opening for him to step
through.

The newcomer came closer, allowing them to
notice a few additional details. He wore a mustache, a thin strip
of white hair almost invisible against his equally white skin. An
etched nameplate labeled him “Asst. Warden Blanc.”

“So, the prisoners are awake,” said Blanc in
a clipped, impatient tone. “I was beginning to think we would have
to tote their worthless carcasses along with us.”

Lil turned to Nita and whispered, barely able
to be heard through her mask, “Make sure you get to the gun
first.”

Nita didn’t have a chance to request
clarification before the guard nearest to the door began to work at
the lock with his key.

“Back away from the door,” Blanc ordered.

“Or what?” Lil said. “That tag says you’re a
warden, right? That means we’re already headed to prison. If we’re
already locked up, what more can you do?”

“If you do not behave yourselves, my men will
beat you both to within an inch of your lives. The three of us are
going to be spending a great deal of time together. It would
behoove you to do your best to get on my good side.”

“In my experience, wardens more or less get
paid to not have a good side, but I guess I’ll try anything once,”
Lil said, shuffling aside.

“A wise decision. And you?” asked Blanc,
addressing Nita.

“Something tells me if you know anything
about us, there isn’t much chance that we’ll be seeing your good
side anytime soon,” Nita said, backing away. “Though it may be
worth pointing out that I am a citizen of Caldera, and thus my
incarceration without a trial could be considered an act of
war.”

“No, Miss Amanita Graus, there is no ‘could’
about it. This is inarguably an act of war, and you are in no
uncertain terms a prisoner of war.”

Nita’s eyes widened. “You are declaring war
on Caldera?”

“Heavens no. Caldera declared war upon us.
How else are we to interpret your attack on a warehouse within our
borders and your destruction of one of our most valuable
dreadnought-class airships.”

Now it was Lil’s turn to widen her eyes. “One
of… wait, dreadnought
class
? You mean you had more than
one?”

“Oh, Miss Chastity Cooper, there will be
plenty
of time for you to realize the depths of your
underestimations. A few steps farther back, please. Ivors, open the
door.”

The key turned and the guard, presumably
Ivors, pulled the door open. Two others carefully maneuvered inside
and stepped behind the girls.

“Why, may I ask, have these women not been
restrained with their arms behind their backs?” Blanc said angrily.
“We have procedure for a reason.”

“I guess your procedure didn’t account for
having to transfer such supple prisoners,” Lil said, nudging Nita
in the side with her elbow.

“Warden Blanc, if perhaps I could speak to a
representative of your government, I would like to offer my most
profound apologies and entreat you not to consider my actions
representative of Caldera as a whole,” Nita said, shuffling
unsteadily out behind Lil with a guard behind her. “I do not wish
to be responsible for starting a war.”

“It is a bit late, Miss Graus,” Blanc said,
turning to pace down the hall.

“And don’t apologize to him, Nita,” Lil said
as she was led out behind Blanc.

“On the contrary. Her apology is at least a
step toward the proper behavior,” Blanc said.

“Yeah, but it’s going to sound real empty
after what happens next,” Lil said.

“And what might that—”

Lil, anticipating his request for
clarification, chose to illustrate. She leaped and brought both
heels down onto the feet of the guard leading her. He growled in
anger and pitched forward. With perfect timing, Lil recovered from
her leap with a second one, driving the top of her head into the
chin of the guard. The cramped hallway exploded with motion, five
guards and their superior all shouting orders at one another. The
only one who knew what she was doing was Lil. She darted around
behind Blanc, who had turned to face her, and sprang once again
into the air, swinging the chain of her shackles over his head.
Drawing it tight across his neck, she used the leverage to kick her
feet up on one side of him, knocking his pistol free. As it twirled
through the air, she swung backward and forward again to drive both
feet into the back of his knees. The warden crumbled to the ground
on top of Lil, struggling for breath.

From the instant Lil moved, Nita had known
that at some point the gun would be coming free, as she was the
only one marginally prepared for what was happening. The guard
restraining her was well trained enough to keep his grip on her
rather than release her in order to join the fray in front of him,
but in such close quarters and such madness it didn’t take much for
Nita to wrench herself free. The gun clattered to the floor, and
before any of the guards could so much as kick it away, she was on
it. Gun in hand she sprang backward, plowing through the confused
guards until she was in the doorway of her former cell with no
guards behind her. There she braced a shoulder against the doorway
and used it to slide upright. The guards advanced on her, but she
clicked back the hammer of the pistol and pointed it
threateningly.

“All of you, against the wall now!” she
barked.

Either the intensity of the situation had
made her voice particularly intimidating or the weapon was a very
impressive one, because the fug folk quickly obeyed, backing
against the walls to reveal Lil and her hostage still grappling on
the floor. Asst. Warden Blanc had both of his hands wrapped around
the chain of her manacles, trying to pull her free, but Lil was as
tenacious as a terrier when she needed to be. Her teeth were
gritted tight and her eyes were wild as she kept the chain tight
enough to make breathing difficult but not impossible.

“I want you all to drop your weapons,” Nita
said. “All of them, on the ground, now!”

The batons clattered to the ground, as well
as a pair of knives that one guard had evidently been hiding.

Nita continued. “No one needs to get hurt.
All I want is for us to be taken to the surface and let free. Our
crew doesn’t want anything to do with your people. We’ve had our
dealings, and we’ve done what we had to. The time has come for you
to live your lives and us to live ours. Let us go and this is the
last you’ll ever see of the
Wind Breaker
crew.”

“
Don’t
let us go and the
Wind
Breaker
crew is the last thing you’ll ever see,” Lil added with
a grunt.

More guards appeared at the doorway, but a
sharp point of Nita’s gun and a repeat of her order convinced them
to drop their weapons as well. For several seconds, no one seemed
willing to act, and the only sound was Blanc trying and failing to
loosen the chain from around his throat. Then the slow, deliberate
click of footsteps approached from down the hall.

“That better be someone who can give us what
we want, because I’m getting pretty near fed up with this
pasty-white scarecrow lying on top of me,” Lil growled, giving the
chain a quick yank to make it clear any air Blanc was getting was
her decision, not his.

The footsteps drew closer, and a new figure
appeared in the door. Everyone else in the hallway was stretched
thin and on edge, but the man who stood framed in the doorway was
as calm as a still lake. Unlike his rather more elaborately dressed
associate, he was really quite plain in his wardrobe; a black suit,
a black tie, a black vest, and a white shirt. He looked more like a
rather well-to-do undertaker than anything else. What set him apart
was his poise. He took in the hostage situation around him and
slowly crossed his arms, no flicker of emotion on a face that was
thin even for a fug person. His face and head were clean shaved,
and despite the chemical chill to the air, there was the slight
twinkle of perspiration on his brow. There was no question, even in
the absence of pomp and regalia, that this man was the one above
all others in the command chain. He was the one in charge.

“Sir,” Nita said, her weapon held low but
ready. “Please. All I ask is that you and your men let us go. No
one needs to get hurt.”

“Except this guy. He got on my nerves,” Lil
said.

The man in the doorway calmly looked down to
the stricken assistant warden.

In a voice like distilled reason, he spoke a
single word. “Mask.”

For a fraction of a second, no one seemed to
understand. Then, at the same time, Lil and Blanc did. She tried to
pull her head back and away, but the long, lanky arms of her
hostage had reach to spare. He hooked a hand behind her head,
pulled at a latch, and yanked her mask free. Lil grabbed a final
deep breath of filtered air before it was stripped away, and pulled
with all of her might on the chain, digging it into Blanc’s throat
as he threw the mask out of her reach.

“Put it back on her!
Put it back on
her!
” Nita demanded, her hands shaking as she took aim directly
at the man in the doorway.

He didn’t show an ounce of fear or anger and
simply spoke in calm, soothing tones. “Miss Graus, your concern for
your friend is admirable, but you’ll find it rather more difficult
to compel someone into action at the point of a gun than it is to
compel them into inaction. And your friend has been exerting
herself quite vigorously. We need only delay a short while for her
to run short of breath, and a short while longer for her to cease
to breathe entirely.”