The Fog Diver (16 page)

“W
E'RE ALMOST OUT OF
fuel!” Loretta cried. “We can't reach the slum!”

“Too bad,” the woman said. “His lordship's time is more important than your lives.”

“Wait, ma'am.” Hazel straightened up, trying to look official while perched on the wobbly thopper. “We, um, have something to sell.”

“Hazel, no!” Bea whispered. “Not to
Kodoc
.”

“We don't have a choice,” I croaked.

One of the airtroopers laughed at Hazel. “What are slumkids selling? A handful of rust?”

“A ring,” Hazel said. “A diamond.”

The woman paused. “Show me,” she said. “Come closer.”

Hazel glanced at me, biting her lower lip. If Kodoc and his troops didn't buy the diamond, we'd crash. But what if Kodoc saw us? He might recognize Mrs. E—though she was so frail that she hardly looked like herself. Or worse—he might check my eye.

Mrs. E's words of warning echoed in my mind:
he'll kidnap Chess and work him to death
. He'd drop me in the white, in an endless search for some ancient machine that might not exist, and I'd never see the light of day again. Even if I succeeded, Kodoc would toss me overboard when he was through with me. But we had to take the chance. I'd rather become one of Kodoc's lab rats than lose my whole family to the Fog.

“Go on, Swede.” I exhaled shakily. “She can't see the ring, not this far away.”

Swedish edged the thopper nearer to the gunship, and when Hazel opened the lid of the box, the diamond glinted in the sun.

The officer muttered to her soldiers. “Keep still,” she told Hazel. “We'll tow you to his lordship.”

“Let's do this here,” Hazel said tightly. “I'll give you the diamond, you bring us to the Rooftop. No need to bother his lordship.”

“You'd trust me with your diamond?”

Hazel bowed her head. “Only because I don't have a choice.”

“Slumgirl's got spirit,” an airtrooper laughed.

“I don't have a choice, either,” the officer told Hazel before turning to a soldier. “Heliograph his lordship and inform him of the situation.”

A moment later, a polished copper plate—the heliograph—flashed a pattern of reflected sunlight at the bigger ship, passing the message along.

The thopper trembled beneath me, and I trembled right back. We were trapped on the Fog, with Lord Kodoc only a hundred feet away. The engine coughed, and I wondered how long we had before we ran out of fuel. Ten minutes? Twenty?

Then a light flashed from the
Teardrop,
and the officer said, “This is your lucky day. Lord Kodoc will grant you an audience.”

“Great,” Hazel said.

“Watch your tongue, though. You don't want to make him angry.”

I cringed at the thought. A perfectly happy Kodoc scared me to death—I didn't even want to
think
about an angry one.

Swedish glanced at Hazel, as if he expected her to tell him to fly away. But she only nodded, so he angled the thopper toward the
Teardrop
. The big airship was already rising below us, like one of Hazel's drawings of a whale breaching the surface of the ocean.

First the massive steel-ribbed balloon loomed into sight, then came the mainsails, and after that an endless
sweep of rigging. A few seconds later, the quarterdeck drew level with us, and I gasped at its grandeur. Polished floorboards gleamed in the sun, tidy sailors adjusted shining valves, and tables laden with charts and food scattered the deck.

A man with a long face stepped to the railing. His fancy green jacket shone in the sunlight. His glossy hair sparkled, and even his skin shone. He was the cleanest thing I'd ever seen, and when he inspected us through a monocle, I felt like a dirty ant on the wrong side of a magnifying glass.

Hazel gave a weird seated curtsy and whispered, “Bow! Everyone, heads down!”

I bowed, happy for an excuse to hide my face. Of course, there was no way that Kodoc would recognize me. He'd never seen me, not even as a baby. And I knew he wouldn't
personally
check the eyes of every kid he met—he'd leave that to his troopers. Definitely. No question about it. I wasn't scared of being discovered, my skin wasn't clammy, and my mind wasn't blanking. No, I was trembling for completely different reasons.

Sure I was.

Then he spoke. “Am I to understand that you—of all people—have in your possession a diamond?”

“Yes, Lord Kodoc,” Hazel said, straightening from her curtsy.

“And you expect me to purchase it?”

“We hope you will, your lordship.”

“You're hardly in a position to bargain, girl.” His cold gaze flicked toward Mrs. E's slumped form, and he cocked an eyebrow. “If you keep the diamond, you'll be committing a crime punishable by death.”

“That's why we flew into the Fog, your lordship. With, um, our grandmother. To sell the diamond to a person of good standing, a nobleman who'd treat us fairly, instead of a lower-slope—”

“Yes, yes, I take your point,” Lord Kodoc said, a hint of cold amusement in his voice. “So you wish to sell a diamond. In exchange for what consideration?”

I didn't know what “consideration” meant, but Hazel said, “We beg safe passage to the Rooftop, your lordship, and permission to remain on the lower slopes.”

Lord Kodoc laughed, a slithery sound. “
That
is your dream? To live on the lower slopes, packed together like animals?”

“Yes, your lordship.”

Lord Kodoc swept us with his monocle. “Very well. Consider the diamond sold. I will drop you in the lower slopes.”

“Thank you!” Hazel gushed. “Thank you, your lord—”

“Now bring that pathetic ship to the landing dock,” Kodoc interrupted, turning away to grab a wineglass from a tray.

“See, Loretta?” Bea said. “I told you Hazel would save us.”

Swedish swiveled the thopper toward the landing dock, and I clenched the hull so hard that my hands ached. “Save us”? Docking on Kodoc's ship was like a mouse hiding inside a cat's mouth.

“Wait!” Lord Kodoc said as he turned to inspect us. “You're a salvage crew? Which one's the tetherkid?”

After a terrified second, I raised my hand.

“I lost a diver yesterday.” He swirled the wine in his glass. “Fifth one this month. You'll take her place.”

“Yes, sir,” I said in a tiny voice.

“Junkyard tetherkids are worthless until my people train them,” he observed, “but an empty harness is even worse than an incompetent diver—”

He stopped suddenly, staring at me. Like he saw past my hair, straight to my eye. No, like he saw past my
face,
straight into my
thoughts
.

My throat clenched and my skin felt too small for my body. Seconds ticked past. I hunched my shoulders, listening to the engines, feeling the chill wind of the propellers.

Then Kodoc called, “Helmsman! Bring me closer!”

The big airship swept toward the thopper, like a massive hand swatting at a fly. The hull stopped ten feet away, and Lord Kodoc's slithery voice said, “Look at me when I talk to you, boy.”

My stomach dropped, but I lifted my head a bit. “Sorry.”

“Higher,” Kodoc told me.

I moved my chin an inch.

“I know you,” he said, almost too softly for me to hear.

“I—I don't think so, my lord.”

“You're him.” His gaze sharpened. “You're mine. You
survived
.”

The world narrowed into a tunnel between Kodoc and me. Nothing else existed. My mind screamed,
You don't know me, you don't know anything about me!
but my mouth refused to form words, and I just sat there, silent and frozen.

“Show me your right eye,” Kodoc said.

“No,” I breathed.

Lord Kodoc smashed his wineglass against the deck. “Show me the eye that I gave you!”

Bea made a frightened noise that I barely heard over the rush of blood in my ears. I couldn't help myself: with a shaking hand, I brushed the hair from my freak-eye.

For a terrible second, Kodoc stared at me. His face burned with a feverish hunger as he whispered, “You. You're finally mine.”

My arms started trembling, and I swallowed hard, too scared to speak.

“I'd hoped to intercept some mutineers who'd been pestering me,” he said offhandedly, though his glittering eyes never left my face. “I never dreamed you'd fly out
here to meet me. What a cooperative boy. What is your name?”

I swallowed again. “Ch-Chess.”

“No.” His smile made me shiver. “Your name is whatever I call you.”

I trembled harder, so scared that all I could say was “Yes, s-sir.”

“Bring that thopper to the landing dock,” Kodoc ordered Swedish.
“Now!”

S
WEDISH GLANCED AT
H
AZEL
for instructions. She bit her lip, and I saw in her face that she'd run out of ideas, which scared me as much as Kodoc . . . almost.

“Do what he says,” she told him.

“No way,” Swedish snarled. “I'd rather crash.”

“Me, too—but we're not going to lose Bea.”

“Don't blame me!” Bea squeaked. “
I'd
rather crash.”

“I wouldn't,” Loretta muttered.

“You don't get a vote,” I told Bea shakily. “Head for the landing dock, Swedish.”

He started to answer, and a blast of cannon fire roared so loud that my ears rang. Wood splintered, metal shrieked. Airtroopers screamed in pain and fear.

“We're under attack!” a trooper shouted. “
Mutineers!
Return fire, return fire!”

“Grab those slumkids!” Lord Kodoc snarled. “Get me that thopper!”

“I can't bring her around, m'lord,” the helmsman answered. “Not with mutineers attacking.”

“No excuses!” Lord Kodoc ordered. “I want that boy!”

“Dive!” Hazel screamed at Swedish. “Dive!”

That was the best idea I'd heard all year. “Now!” I yelled. “Go-go-
go
!”

Bea hugged Mrs. E to keep her steady, and the thopper plunged downward. A ripple of flame shot through the air where we'd been a moment before. Chains whirled and harpoons hissed, and Lord Kodoc shouted commands as the
Teardrop
swung closer, almost batting the thopper from the sky.

Two airtroopers on a lower deck hurled grappling hooks at us, but they missed when Swedish corkscrewed into a cloud of cannon smoke. Voices cried, hoses hissed, and splinters rained around us. I hugged the hull as we swooped lower. Hazel screamed at Swedish, and Bea screamed at the engine, and Loretta just screamed.

The thopper shuddered, then leveled out. With the noise behind us, I lifted my head and saw that we were skimming along the jagged surface of the Fog. The battle still raged, but all I heard were Kodoc's words:
you're finally mine
.

He scared me more than Perry, more than the junkyard bosses. Maybe even more than driftsharks. He'd looked at me like I was an object, a
thing
. Something in his eyes made me shrivel, made my bones turn to twigs. Something in his voice when he'd shouted,
I want that boy!

My mind stuttered over my fears until a
boom
made me look upward.

I scanned the smoke and flame, then spotted a mutineer warship that must've slunk into attack range while the roof-trooper ships were surrounding us. Looking closer, I recognized the cigar-shaped zeppelin of the mutineer airship, and the armored bronze bands.

“It's Vidious!” I said, not quite believing my eyes. “It's the
Night Tide
!”

Swedish glanced higher. “What's he doing?”

“Probably calling Kodoc a ‘poppet.'”

“He's not alone.” Hazel pointed to the sun shining above the battle. “There's Captain Nisha.”

I squinted into the light but didn't see anything. Then a shadow detached from the sun—and a second mutineer warship dropped from the sky to blast the
Teardrop
from above.

“Never thought I'd be glad to see mutineer warships,” I said.

Kodoc's ship was quick for her size, but not quick enough. Cannon fire pocked her quarterdeck and harpoons stabbed the steel-ribbed balloon that kept her aloft.
The armored gunships returned fire, but a few mutie airsailors still slid down the harpoon lines from Nisha's warship, almost like tetherkids, and landed on the
Teardrop
's balloon.

Hazel shaded her eyes and looked up in awe. “Nisha's flying the
Anvil Rose
. Now
that's
a beautiful ship—”

“I hate to interrupt,” Swedish said, his voice tight, “but we're into the dregs of the foggium.”

Loretta gasped, and I said, “How long've we got?”

“Five minutes.”

Hazel closed her eyes. Three seconds passed. Then ten. Then she opened her eyes and said, “Turn around and head back to the battle.”

Back to the battle?
I gulped. That meant back to Kodoc.

Loretta groaned and Bea's eyes widened, but Swedish just tilted the thopper into a curve and started climbing toward the noise and smoke and danger.

“His fancy lordship wants Chess,” Loretta told Hazel. “What are you going to do, hand him over?”

“You
can't
!” Bea said.

“It's okay,” I said, despite the lump in my throat. “We don't have a choice. We're running out of fuel.”

“We're not flying to Kodoc.” Hazel nudged Swedish. “Head higher, toward the
Anvil Rose
.”

For a moment, nobody spoke. Then Loretta asked, her voice faint, “You want to start chatting with mutineers in the middle of a sky battle?”

“No,” I said, suddenly awed. “She wants to sell them a diamond.”

“It's worth a try,” Hazel said. “We're not letting that creep get his hands on Chess.”

I looked away from the fiery combat to stare at Hazel, because she was even more impressive than a flying death match.

She never panicked. When
I
got scared, my mind blanked and I froze. Not Hazel. Instead, she accepted every new problem and immediately calculated the best response. Maybe we'd only have a 50 percent chance of success, maybe only 10. Heck, if we only had a
1
percent chance of survival, she'd just grit her teeth and grab at that tiny sliver of hope.

I'd dived into uncharted Fog for three years and seen things nobody else had even imagined, but I'd never seen anything like Hazel.