The Gospel According to Verdu (a Steampunk Novel) (The Brofman Series) (22 page)

There was an elaborate signaling system to determine who would be obliged to deviate from their course and who would keep their direction as the other turned to come alongside. The
Tao-Tallis
never changed course or slowed. The presence of the Pramuc and her mission fell into the category of
pressa va
, a ship with an urgent destination. This always made the visitors curious, and Rainor, being proud of his ship and that he was ferrying the Pramuc personally, always made the most of it. In this way, the message spread throughout the Mae-Lyn world that the Pramuc was returning to Tugrulia.

Visitors swung on ropes from their ships to the
Tao-Tallis
just to be blessed by the Pramuc. They carried their copies of Verdu’s account of her adventure in the empire and waved them in the air. Chenda was awed by the speed at which news spread through Mae-Lyn society. There were no secrets on a small ship, and there were no secrets among the Mae-Lyn.

This worried Chenda. Spies for both the republic and the Tugrulians were closer than she cared to recall. She had committed her heart and soul to Fenimore and never suspected that he was a Kiter spy. Despite her love and devotion to him, and his flame-punctuated departure from the Kite’s Republic Intelligence Service, she felt the prying eyes in every face she encountered. Even as she looked into the faces she blessed, the devoted souls who held her as a messenger of the gods, she felt suspicion. Who were these men and women? Would they betray her to those who feared her, hated her, and wanted her dead? The odds were too good that at least one of those who had looked her in the eye and accepted the love she offered in blessing would take that moment of joy and turn it to their own gain, a bit of information to trade for a bit of relief for their family or food for their mouth.

It was only a matter of time before hostility would come with the pilgrims seeking the Pramuc on the
Tao-Tallis
. She watched Afham at play and knew her presence had put his life in danger. Chenda, sick with worry, pulled Rainor aside as the sun set.

“I have to leave the
Tao-Tallis
,” she said.

Rainor bit his lip, suddenly looking as anguished as Chenda felt. “Have we insulted you in some way, Pramuc? Have you been made to suffer in discomfort aboard my ship?”

Chenda smiled to alleviate his distress. She took both his hands in hers and warmed his skin with a comforting rub. “Of course not. I feel as if you are all my family—no one shows better hospitality than Rainor of the Mae-Lyn. But I know without a doubt that if you continue to ferry me toward Tugrulia, there will be violence against you. The price on my head is too high, especially with Verdu’s account so widely circulated. . . .” Chenda sighed in resignation and focused on Rainor’s eyes, willing him to understand the danger he and his family were in. “We have made things very difficult for the emperor. He will seek to take me, to dismantle all that I represent. His servants will kill anyone or anything that stands between them and their emperor’s prize. That I cannot bear. To risk you, to risk your son—that price is too high.

“I need to find another way to the Tugrulian shore. I need to leave you.”

Rainor tilted his head to the side and gave a fatherly grin. “One does not gain a family such as mine by being a fool. I knew what your presence would mean to my family soon after you were plucked from the sea. Do you think, dear one, that the Tugrulian patrol boats will be less harsh with us if they find you absent from the
Tao-Tallis
? I think not. If you go or if you stay, death is all but assured for the
Tao-Tallis
, and that is just the price of the world in which we live. Great things happen to great people, sometimes great and terrible things. But what can I gain if I hide in a whale? I would lose the light of the sun and gain the stink of a fish’s gut.” Rainor sniffed in prideful disgust. “Fame and glory do not often attach themselves to farmers.”

Chenda laughed and wondered if that thought could be true—she was sure that if Candice were here, she would argue against it.

“You must not sacrifice your family for me,” she said.

“You would have me delegate this fate to another of my kind?” he returned quickly. “Shame be on me were it so. There is no ship so fast as mine. We can outrun most trouble, and my family will protect you from much of the rest.” He winked at her. “I think also that you can take care of your own life, and perhaps a few of my family as well.”

Chenda nodded at his allusion to the more lethal uses of her gifts.

“The blood is in the water, and that is that. We will cut through with our hull, as we must. No, my good Pramuc, there is no way out but through. I will, if you wish, send many of my family away to visit with others in the Mae-Lyn. That is prudent, but most will complain to go. Their pride in you overshadows their fear, but we are so generous with our heart, it is often hard to see around it.

“You shall see. We will find trouble, but we will overcome it, and you will be pleased with your people.”

Despite the hubris and winking vanity, Chenda could see that Rainor had the right of it. The future of the
Tao-Tallis
was tainted with her danger whether she was on it or not. Any other Mae-Lyn ship to take her would suffer the same contamination. She realized that she had tried to do just what Fenimore had done to her. He had left her behind, thinking that would protect her, but it had broken her heart. She marveled at Rainor’s trust in her and his willingness to guard the rest of the Mae-Lyn people from danger by taking her troubles aboard his ship alone.

“You are the most generous man I have ever met,” she said.

“I am Mae-Lyn,” he replied, as if that explained it all.

chapter 15

For want of connection

Lincoln had risen to the occasion of being a stand-in first officer, even in light of the detail that
he
came to the fore because everyone else was either gravely injured, missing or just took a big step backward. He had a long way to go before he had the experience and assuredness of Fenimore or the stoic accomplishment of Verdu, but he could pilot the
Brofman
with a steady hand, and he could, with good-natured ribbing, lead the other lads through the daily chores that an airship required from her crew. He worked hard to make sure that his mates did not shirk any duties, a task that was beginning to strain their friendships. He wanted to be the best officer he could, because the
Brofman
was his home, and Captain Endicott was a fair master worthy of respect. In these basic aspects of onboard leadership, Lincoln was adequate. However, as he followed his captain through the creaky back door of the Pipe Fitters’ Union in the more sleazy end of the wharf district on Crider Island, he realized how large the shoes he was trying to fill actually were. In stature and swagger, he was no Fenimore. In understated menace, he paled in comparison to Verdu. Mostly, he was just pleased that he had not, as of yet, wet his pants.

A funny thing about the Pipe Fitters’ Union on Crider Island: there were remarkably few plumbing supplies in the establishment. There were strong men with crowbars, yes. There were chains that perhaps could have been used for lifting large segments of heavy tubes, true. But there was no real illusion that any of the men assembled there were looking for honest, skilled labor at a decent wage. It was more of a killer-take-all atmosphere among the hulking and battle-worn men. Lincoln, gangly and lean, did his best to flank Captain Endicott in a protective way, while avoiding the appearance of cowering behind the bulldoggish captain as he strutted through the assemblage of thugs.

Captain Endicott glanced around until he found the person he was looking for, a woman in loose pants and a thin, sleeveless flight coat that was cinched at the waist. Her hair was a mixture of gray and dark brown, cut short so the tight curls pressed against her head like a fuzzy cap. She did not smile as she turned toward Captain Endicott’s approach, nor did a frown cross her thin lips. The slight sagging around her jaw and eyes was the only hint of her passing on to middle age. Her features were plain, but not brutish like those of the surrounding men. Although her clothes were cut for a man, her overall aura was decidedly feminine. Lincoln, however, guessed she was no lady.

“Maxwell Endicott,” she said. “I wish I could say I have some work for you, old man, but I have no shipments I need delivered. Sorry you wasted your time hauling your carcass to the wharf.” She nodded to the door, as if she were a king dismissing an ill-prepared petitioner.

“Oh, Maggie,” Captain Endicott sighed, “I’ve got me a job. And as I recall, your wages for a hauler such as myself are pretty poor. But that’s neither here nor there. I’m here to buy, madam.”

Maggie cut her eyes to one of the muscled men beside her. “Buying? You? You lose some of that holier-than-thou streak that cuts through you? Buying, he says. . . .”

“Buying,” Captain Endicott said flatly. Maggie raised one eyebrow and waited for him to expand on his change of perspective, but he stood coolly with his teeth together.

Maggie raised both her eyebrows at him, and all the men in the room stared at the captain, open curiosity on their faces. “Operators?”

He looked at the assorted men surrounding him and Maggie. “No, thank you. My crew is sufficient.” Several of the roughnecks eyed Lincoln up and down, then scoffed, turning their attention away from the transaction now that it was clear no mercenary services would be required.

Maggie also gave Lincoln a doubtful look, but started leading Captain Endicott around the hall. She opened boxes of various weapons and explained the capabilities of each to the captain. Lincoln was lost from the start. Unlike the captain, he had never done any formal military service. The others on the
Brofman
had taught him about self-defense, knife fighting, and so on, but this—crates with metal tubes that were pointy on one end and had fins on the other? Were those
bombs
? It was just beyond Lincoln’s understanding. Maggie and the captain bantered back and forth, discussing the items nestled in excelsior and smelling of oiled steel: quantities, weights, accuracy, ranges, and finally cost. After half an hour, a deal was struck, and the pair shook hands.

“We’ll come back to get the goods in three days,” Captain Endicott said.

“I’ll have it all ready and waiting, so long as you get me my money in two days,” Maggie replied.

Endicott smiled. “As you wish.” He turned on his heel and barked for Lincoln to follow him back into the waning light of the alley beyond the squeaking door. As they stalked from the alley to the street beyond, Captain Endicott focused his attention to his young subordinate. “Lad,” he said, “You did fine. Stop sweating.”

Lincoln swabbed at his forehead with his shirtsleeve. “Sorry, sir.”

The captain gave him a bracing slap on the back. “Let me slip you a piece of advice. Business is nothing to fret over. We buy, they sell, no trouble. It’s commerce. And rough stuff is not good for trade, if you know what I mean. We’re strong so we get the best deal we can get; they are strong so they don’t get cheated. Tough guys are in the business of being hired guns, so they want to show their grit. That’s all. Nothing to be afraid of.”

“Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to stand around with me mouth hangin’ open. Lost me head.”

“Knowing when to
look
tough and when to
be
tough is the key to getting by. Just follow my lead, and it will all come out right in the end.”

“Did you have to teach Fenimore and Verdu all of this?” Lincoln asked, hoping to find that he was not too far behind the curve of his idols. The captain sighed.

“Some,” he said charitably. “But the pair of them always erred on the side of being tough, so reigning them in was the trick.”

Lincoln wilted a bit, feeling that he was a poor substitute for the
Brofman
’s missing first officers. Captain Endicott weighed his words carefully as he spoke. “Lincoln, you are never going to be Verdu, and you’re never going to be Fenimore. And you would be a fool to be aught but yourself. The prison and his own raw temper made Fen a good fighter, and the life Verdu led was a strict one to begin with. You are just now the same age they were when they came to me, and you have your own experiences at your back. You’re a quicker study than the two of them put together, because you’re not half as stubborn.

“Ahead of you is a baptism by fire, and I mean that most literally. What you are, and what you do in the days ahead, is what will report the kind of man you are. All I ask is that you keep your head, listen for the orders I give, and follow them.

“There’s just one thing I would remind you of: Fenimore and Verdu would have felt responsible for the lives of the men below them in the crew; you know that from how they kept one eye on you all the time. Now you need to remember that you hold rank over some of the others—they’re yours to look after. You keep one eye out for their lives, as I will keep mine to defending yours. That’s my word to you, boy.”

Lincoln nodded and straightened his back. Here was something he could focus on.

Captain Endicott, noting the stiffening in his young officer’s spine, continued. “There is much that only experience can teach, and that’ll come fast now. You’re a good lad, and I have pride and faith in you. You’ll be just fine. Now, close your mouth—it’s hangin’ open again.”

Lincoln blushed and brought his teeth together. Captain Endicott held high expectations of him; he vowed he would not let the old man down.

“It’s the muscle here and here that has been severed,” the royal tinkerer explained to Nameer, stroking the marred skin along the underside of Verdu’s knee with one old, withered finger. “There is some strength to lift from the surrounding muscles, but not enough. The brace here”—he tightened a leather strap over Verdu’s knee—“and the motor there”—he tapped two long tubes with cogs and pistons on the outside of the joint—“will help the knee to bend, support his weight. He will stand very well, and with some practice, he will walk passably, but it’s very tricky going from one to the other. He may wish to stand, but find his leg continues on with its walking. He’ll end up on his backside if he’s not careful.”