The Wind Merchant (10 page)

He wrote
‘Shouldn’t expect impossible,’
and showed the pad to Billie before resting his head on the pillow and staring at the ceiling.

“Hey, look at me,” she said with an intensity that surprised Ras. “We don’t have time to feel sorry for ourselves, so I don’t want to see that out of you. People would have died if you weren’t at Eight today. Just keep doing what you can, and I’ll do the same.” Billie stood, surveyed the wounded, then exited.

Ras clumsily flipped the paper over to a clean sheet and began drumming up everything he wished he had said to Callie. He hated that the letter she would have to remember him by would look like a child wrote it.

The blank page stared at him. He didn’t know where to begin. He wasn’t even entirely sure of the goal of the letter.

A new visitor entered the room and made a direct line for Ras’ bed. The blonde girl from Eight stood expectantly at the foot of his bed. “Guy wants me to make sure you—how did he put it—make yourself less useless while you’re resting.”

Of course he does
, Ras thought. He began writing a response before the girl waved to grab his attention.

She held her hand up to her forehead and saluted. Then she placed her hand flat over her chest and moved on to some intricate gestures that Ras couldn’t follow. “Hello, my name is Kiria,” she said, translating.

With his mitt of a hand, Ras saluted back. He at least knew how to greet someone with sign language.

“Good. Welcome to the rest of your day,” Kiria said, signing along with her spoken words. She walked over and sat in the chair Billie left. “We’ll focus on what you need to know to do your job on Eight, but if we have time we’ll move on to other things.”

Kiria began her lesson with the alphabet, which she quickly abandoned after it became apparent Ras couldn’t learn them without replicating the shapes with his own hands.

Ras imagined Guy particularly enjoying the irony, but he quickly learned how to signal if he understood the sign or needed a repetition. After a couple hours of moving through basic conversation and engine parts, it became obvious he was giving the lessons his minimal attention.

“You do understand you can kill someone if you don’t follow signed orders correctly,” she said.

Sorry
, Ras signed. It was a simple enough gesture and one he knew he’d need to learn early on.
Again
?

“What’s the sign for ‘
hungry?
’” Finn asked, returning from his rounds.
 

Kiria turned and demonstrated by making a cupped hand that ran from her throat to her stomach.

“What about ‘
I’m hungry
?’” Finn asked.

She pointed to herself and repeated the previous motion.

“Good. Me too. Care to join us for lunch?”

Kiria blushed a little bit, and began signing a response before she caught herself. “I’m supposed to stay with Ras.”

Finn rocked on his heels. “I wasn’t using a royal ‘us.’ I was planning on stealing your star pupil here.”

With Kiria’s back turned, Ras offered a signed
thanks
to Finn, who simply replied with a wink.

Kiria turned to see what Ras did to prompt the wink, which allowed Finn a little celebration dance that made Ras grin. She signed,
what
?

He happy
, Ras signed.

Why?

Ras thought for a moment how to craft a response with his limited vocabulary.
You fuel his engine
.

A grin spread across her face as she stood to leave the infirmary.

“Hold on, what are you telling her?” Finn asked.

“I’ll see you both in the mess hall,” Kiria said before slipping through the doorway.

“You should know the medic-patient relationship requires a lot of trust both ways,” Finn said.

You welcome
, Ras signed.

Much to Finn’s dismay, his lunch date with Kiria turned into another sign language lesson for Ras, even with the absence of Guy and Billie.

Why sign here?
Ras asked.
People talk here. No engine.

“You need practice,” she said.

I need…
he signed, then looked down at the empty space on the table before him and mimicked a chewing motion, pointing to his mouth.

“Food,” she said, displaying the far more elegant and more correct version of the sign. “Did you not bring anything?”

No
.
She has it
. Ras didn’t know how to sign Billie’s name or even if Kiria knew Billie.

“Who is ‘she?’” Kiria asked.

Ras looked over to Finn for help. He moved his hands in circles to indicate Billie’s curly hair.

“I think he’s talking about a crazy lady,” Finn said, eliciting a glare from Ras. “Am I not being helpful? I feel like I’m not being helpful.”

“Billie,” Ras croaked out in a soft whisper that made his throat itch and sting. Being able to finally produce a sound was an improvement upon the morning.

“Oh, Billie!” Finn said. Then he lowered his voice and shook his head in mock chastisement. “Billie’s not crazy. Be nice.”

“I think Billie has his lunch,” Kiria said.

“You want to go to Billie’s office?” Finn asked. It was more of a suggestion than a question. He turned to Kiria. “He’ll be right back.”

“That’s fine,” she said.

Ras stood, nodded to Kiria, and tried not to laugh at Finn, who drew his hands apart in a wide motion.
Take as long as you can.

Leaving the mess hall, he noticed a dozen workers from Eight meandering in, but no sign of Guy. A few men nodded to him with a bit less malice than before, which encouraged Ras a little. He hoped the story of the valve would spread around the Engine, but couldn’t imagine one event swaying popular opinion.

Using a shortcut he had accidentally discovered on one of his previous fool’s errands, Ras made his way through a dark passageway leading to the main office.

Billie sat at her desk, studying reports. She looked up as Ras entered. “Oh, sorry. After the pipe blew it’s been nothing but paperwork. How’s the throat?”

“Fine,” Ras squawked. “I barely—”

“Stop. It hurts just hearing you,” she said. “Lunch is on the cabinet.”

Thanks
, Ras signed.

The radio on Billie’s desk burst into static cacophony that settled on a man’s voice. “Mayday! Mayday! This is Thomas Carnes of
The Cirrus.
India Bravo has returned! I repeat, India Bravo has returned. Bravo Company is heading toward
Verdant
and—No!” The transmission cut off sharply, leaving the room silent.
 

The handful of men and women that hadn’t left for lunch yet all stared at each other for a moment before Billie spoke. “They transmitted to the wrong channel. That should have gone to the capitol building.” She looked about at the others in the room. “I don’t know where else that was sent, but for now that information does not leave this room, everyone clear on that?” She turned back to look at Ras. “We need to verify its origin, and we don’t need to panic everyone.”

“I have the message transcribed,” a balding man several desks down said, lifting a sheet of paper in the air.

“Eric, relay the message to the capitol,” Billie said, pointing to the balding man. “Ramsey, radio port authority and verify
The Cirrus
and have them look up Thomas Carnes to see if he is a member of the crew.” The office buzzed with activity.

“Ma’am, I don’t need to verify,” Ramsey said through a clenched jaw as though releasing the tension would cause him to fall to pieces. “Thomas is…was my brother-in-law. I’m sure he knew I’d pass it along.”

Ras froze. If Bravo Company was coming, then the Tourbillons’ move would be a day late. Without further thought, Ras dashed toward the exit with sack lunch in hand, ignoring the protests from Billie.

Running crew members weren’t entirely out of place in the Engine, but twice he had to hold up his sack lunch to security officers, feigning an important delivery.

Once up top, the bright sun momentarily blinded him as he attempted to survey the skies for sky pirate ships. Not wanting to waste time letting his eyes adjust, Ras took off toward the residential zone.

The people he passed looked as though they hadn’t heard any news of impending doom yet, which relieved Ras, but if one ship ran afoul of the inbound fleet, then surely more broadcasts would soon come.

Halfway to his goal, Ras felt the effects of the dehydration start to kick in. His legs felt sluggish and his swollen throat made sucking in air nearly impossible, but he couldn’t give up now if it determined Callie being around when Bravo Company inevitably bombarded
Verdant
.

As he continued his run, his mind flitted to his mother. He didn’t know how he would convince Mr. Tourbillon, but he needed to get Emma on their ship. Ras was the only family she had left.

All plans immediately dissipated when he saw what was parked in the middle of the street directly in front of the Tourbillon home.

The gleaming white vessel with silver accents looked like a hybrid between a giant skiff and an airship without a balloon. Its wingspan reached easily across both sides of the road and Ras guessed it used the flat surface as a runway. The elegant design reminded Ras of
The Kingfisher
, but on a much smaller scale.

Most ships in Atmo were based primarily off their sea-faring forefathers, but this ship’s cabin was fully enclosed. The entire cockpit lacked any hard edges, making the machine look like its designer was inspired by a cloud.

Shouts snapped Ras’ attention away from the vessel. Mrs. Tourbillon stood on her porch, engaged in a loud argument with a man on the other side of the threshold. The man held a wide-brimmed hat in front of him, gesturing occasionally and speaking in low tones that didn’t travel far.

Ras changed course, walking on the other side of his house and back around behind to avoid detection. From behind his house, he could spot Callie’s window and cautiously made his way over to the side of their house.

He peered inside to see Callie with her hair tied back, halfway through boxing up her bookshelves. He eased himself down to his hands and knees before rapping gently on the window.

Callie looked over, giving a brief, but sad smile at the sight of Ras before walking over to unlatch her basement window. “Daddy said he talked to you this morning—what happened to your hands?”

Ras waved away her concern, then whispered in a husky voice that scratched with every syllable. “Pirates. Coming. Today.”

Her eyes grew wide. “What? Why haven’t they sounded the alarm?”

“You have to go, now,” Ras said. No other five words had ever caused him more pain. This was not how he imagined their last meeting.

Callie turned and ran across the room before disappearing up the stairs. The argument in front of the house ended abruptly and Callie came tearing around the corner as Ras stood. She threw her arms around his neck as she bowled into him. “I don’t want to leave.”

Ras watched the man with the hat as Mrs. Tourbillon came to the edge of the house and just stared at them. He was grateful that Mr. Tourbillon wasn’t present. “It’ll be okay,” he said, unsure what that even meant anymore. “Where are you moving?”

“We don’t know yet. Maybe
Kenus
, maybe
Derailleur
,” Callie said.

“We’re not going anywhere until your father gets here,” Mrs. Tourbillon said.

“Nobody is going anywhere,” the man with the hat said. “Not unless they’re leaving in that thing.” He pointed a long finger back at the vehicle in the road. “The sky pirates will attack anyone trying to flee
Verdant
, and almost certainly have forces at the entrance to The Bowl.”

Callie released her grip around Ras’ neck. “Where is it going?”

“Nowhere,” Mrs. Tourbillon blurted, narrowing her eyes at the man with the hat. “Nowhere with us on it. Callie, I need you to keep packing. We might have to leave as soon as your father gets home.”

“Mom, who is this?” Callie asked.

“An old acquaintance trying to call in a favor larger than he deserves,” she said.

Callie turned back to Ras. “Promise me I’ll see you again before I leave,” she said, anger welling. “You still owe me a critique on those chapters.”

Ras nodded, and watched her walk slowly back to her mother. The two women disappeared back around the corner, leaving him alone with the mysterious white-haired man.

“If I could borrow you for a word,” he said, imitating the tone from their previous meeting.

Ras walked toward the man. “What do you want, Mr…”

“My name is hardly of consequence, Mr. Veir. It comes to my employer’s attention that you appear to have…dug yourself a hole of a certain depth from which you cannot escape unassisted,” he said as though the phrase were one he had heard spoken but had not understood himself.  “Am I correct?”

“Everyone’s employers know that.”

“That may be the case, but not everyone’s employers can offer you assistance like mine can.”

“Is his name of consequence?” Ras asked.

“Oh, of the highest.” He smiled broadly, stretching the mustache wide across his face. He slid his hat on easily and said, “Mr. Halcyon Napier has asked me to gauge your level of interest in saving
Verdant
.”

CHAPTER FIVE

The Kingfisher

The small vessel’s interior consisted of little more than a pilot’s seat and an upholstered bench with restraints for three passengers. Ras found himself absentmindedly running his padded hand over the impeccable workmanship of the silver trim set in a sparkling white pearlescent material. The instrumentation gave off a purple hued glow.

“So,” Ras said, finally breaking the silence. “You fly on
The Kingfisher. 
The
Kingfisher
.”

“Is there another one I should be aware of?” the man inquired, genuinely interested. He flicked three switches to engage the engines. The sudden noise caused Ras to jump.

“Uh, no,” Ras said, fumbling to secure his restraint and readying himself to be shoved back into his seat. “It’s just said to be a ghost ship.”