The Wind Merchant (6 page)

“Don’t go easy on me. If it’s bad, it’s bad, and better I hear it from you—”

“I’ll be honest, I promise,” Ras said. “Where did you get the paper?”

“I saved up,” she said proudly. “Well, I had to use the gifts I got for University too, but look at it. Isn’t it so clean?”

Ras admired the fresh, white paper, and suddenly felt that no amount of hand washing would make him worthy to handle such a pure thing. There was no place on
Verdant
that made it, and most paper in Atmo was recycled to a mottled grayish blue hue. Mr. Tourbillon used to sneak her typo’d scraps from the capitol building until she began writing stories about the people on the front of the government documents. “Where’s it from?”

“
Derailleur
,” she said. She smiled widely and offered him the stack, then withdrew it. “We should probably bind these so pages don’t go flying away when you’re waiting on the next big haul,” she said with no hint of sarcasm.

“What’s it about?” Ras asked.

“The white train,” she said simply.

“You’re finally writing it?”

Callie nodded. “How many times can I dream about it before it’s obvious I’m supposed to? Maybe writing it down will finally get it out of my head.”

Over and over Ras heard the recounting of Callie’s dream of being on a railed vehicle she called a train. She would describe in detail things she saw along the trip that baffled Ras. Her father chalked it up to reading too many pre-Overload novels and an over-active imagination.

“How’s the life of a wind merchant going, by the way?” she asked.

He preferred to keep the conversation centered on her but she had the annoying habit of caring about what went on in his life. “Let’s just say I have plenty of time to read between collections.”

“That a good or bad thing?” she asked. 

Ras hesitated. If ever there was someone Ras knew that appreciated a good story, it was Callie, and he’d rather tell her what happened than have her hear it from second-hand sources, or worse yet, her father.

“I fell beneath Atmo,” Ras blurted.

Callie’s eyes shot open wide as she held her hands up to her mouth in shock, then dropped them and shot him a look of disbelief. “Shut up. No you didn’t.”

Ras pointed to his head bandage. “Does this look like a face that would lie about crashing?”

She eyed him warily, a smirk growing. “All right, what did you see?”

“Green wavy stuff—”

“Grass! You saw grass?” she asked, excitedly pacing the room. “Did you get to touch it?”

“Laid in it. Really tall stuff. Soft,” Ras said, enjoying how each minute description sent her over the moon with excitement.

“I knew it’d be soft!” she exclaimed. “Wait. Hold on.” Her eyes narrowed. “How are you not dead?”

“Great question. I was probably ten meters from a Convergence.”

“Erasmus Veir,” she said, enunciating every syllable, “now I know you’re lying.”

“Callie, if ever there was one thing I need you to trust me about, this is it.”

“Ever? As in forever and ever, ever?”

“Forever and ever, ever,” he said, placing his hand to his heart.

“You realize, by law, I get to never trust you again if you’re lying.”

Ras knew there was no such law, but nodded anyway. It was as good as law to her.

Her demeanor lightened. “So they’ve been lying to us about The Great Overload…” A grin spread wide. Callie loved a good conspiracy theory.

“I don’t think so—” Ras began.

“You know you’re taking me with you,” she said, “Today.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

The room shuddered slightly and books fell from shelves. It felt like when something went wrong with
The Copper Fox
’s engines, but on a massive scale.

Suddenly the entire room fell. The drop was only a couple of inches, but it was quick enough that both Ras and Callie braced themselves instinctively.

“What happened, Ras?” Callie asked. It wasn’t an accusatory tone, and he appreciated her for that.

“I sort of…collected a Convergence,” Ras said. “Accidentally.”

The corners of her lips edged into a grin, which he knew didn’t indicate amusement so much as that she didn’t know how to respond to the news. She knew what it meant for
Verdant
. “Can you put it back?”

Ras shook his head.

“Then let’s find another one!”

“I don’t think there
is
another one in The Bowl,” Ras said.

“You just flew below Atmo for the first time! Who knows what else is out there?” The prospect obviously excited her, and she had a point. A point that didn’t involve Ras turning himself in and losing his ship.

Upstairs the front door opened. Heavy boots stomped around and Callie whispered, “That’s daddy. We’ll talk later.” 

Ras was two steps ahead of her, moving toward the basement window with a practiced motion, unlatching it, and opening it.

“Callie?” A deep voice boomed from above and the footsteps aggressively grew closer.

“Yes, daddy?” she called back sweetly.

Ras struggled to squeeze through the small window. “This was a lot easier when I was eight,” he wheezed. He felt a shove on his boots as Callie did her best to push him free, allowing him to grasp further along the ground, but gained little purchase. Ras heard steps clomping down the stairs when he felt one last push that gave him enough force to free himself.

He rolled away from the window, safe.

Ras watched Callie feign interest in something outside as he heard Mr. Tourbillon arrive downstairs. He panicked when he spotted the dirty, man-sized boot print on her otherwise spotless white sundress. He tried to motion to her stay where she was, pointing to his own thigh.

“Callie, have you seen Erasmus?” Mr. Tourbillon asked. Callie turned to face him. “I was just over at Emma’s and she said—”

Ras sat up and scurried back toward his house but ran straight into a man wearing a deputy’s uniform, who shoved him into the arms of another deputy with handcuffs at the ready.

“Well, this doesn’t look good.” A middle-aged man with peppered temples and a square jaw sauntered up to Ras as one of the deputies worked the cuffs. Sheriff Pauling. He turned his head to see Mr. Tourbillon as he joined the crowd. “Good call. Poor boy was so surprised he didn’t even put up a fight.”

“What’s this about?” Ras asked, doing his best to feign ignorance.

Emma Veir stomped out of the house shouting at Sheriff Pauling, “Let him go! You know he wouldn’t do something like that!”

“Something like what?” Ras asked.

“Erasmus Veir, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of Harley Hollister.”

CHAPTER THREE

The Sentence

Sheriff Pauling wasn’t a cruel man. Ras had fond memories of the Paulings being dinner guests in the Veir home occasionally, but looking at him through steel bars felt very different from sitting across a dinner table from him.

The stale smell of regret and half-cleaned sick in the cell was difficult for Ras to ignore as he worked out a plan.

Pauling looked over at Ras, reclining back in his chair across the small room. “You ready to talk or would you like to keep stewing?”

“I wouldn’t hurt Old Harley,” Ras said.

“Witnesses saw him climb aboard your ship last night. He was found there this morning after he didn’t show for his shift. Unconscious, burns and bruises all over his body. Your mother said you told her you got home around midnight.” The sheriff stood and began pacing in front of Ras’ cell. “What can you tell me?”

“I asked him to watch the ship for me, I—”

“Why’d you ask him to watch your ship?”

“I didn’t want scavengers mistaking it for a junker after it was torn up.”

“Ras,” Pauling said, “you dock in your family’s port. People here have too much respect for the Veir name to do something to your ship.”

Ras slumped as Pauling pulled up a chair and sat. He remained silent until Ras met his eye. “You’re a good kid, Erasmus. Eli raised you right. Don’t prove me wrong.”

“Is Old Harley going to be all right?” Ras asked weakly.

“Was it self-defense?” he asked.

Ras flinched at the thought of himself attacking the family friend. Then it dawned on him. “Old Harley’s a Knack, isn’t he?” Ras asked, immediately wishing he hadn’t voiced the question. He didn’t want anyone getting close enough to blow themselves and his ship to bits, and hadn’t considered Old Harley would snoop.

“Did you not deposit your collection before docking?” The Sheriff sounded noticeably relieved.

“No,” Ras said, burying his hope beneath his shameful expression. If all it took to get off the hook was taking his ship out of dock to head to the Collective’s drop-off station, he could make a run for it to find another Convergence. He could even feign engine problems and dump the collection once he made it close enough to the cloud level that it wouldn’t hurt
Verdant
.

“It’s not that bad, Ras,” Pauling said. “It’s not a big fine and I’m sure Harley won’t press charges. Just be smart about it next time, all right?” He walked back to his desk to start filling out the paperwork.

One of the two deputies Ras met earlier bolted into the room, caught sight of Ras, and stared daggers into the young man.

“Sir?” The deputy waited for Pauling to look up. “We searched his ship, and the same thing happened to Robins. The kid brought enough Energy to light up
Verdant
.”

The gavel slammed down to quiet the overcrowded courtroom as the Council of
Verdant
began their sentencing in the case of the “City of
Verdant
vs. Erasmus Veir." The general public had great interest in seeing the son of Elias Veir brought low as the destroyer of
Verdant
.

Ras stood alongside his court-appointed lawyer as the Chief Justice read the counts. “On the charge of one count of first degree city sabotage, we find the defendant: not guilty.”

Jeers and accusations shot forth from the crowd, requiring several more rounds of gavel pounding and threats of expulsion.

“On the charge of one-hundred and sixty-thousand, nine-hundred and twelve counts of attempted murder by the releasing of Convergence-grade Energy within city limits, we find the defendant: not guilty.”

For once, Ras’ reputation of incompetence worked in his favor. Throughout the proceedings, nobody seemed to honestly believe he held any ill-intention for the citizens of
Verdant
, but the prosecutor played up the need for repercussions for destroying the Convergence, even if accidentally. Ras sighed as the last of the charges that held hard time were behind him.

“On the charge of third degree obstruction of Energy and fueling, we find the defendant: guilty.”

The crowd murmured an approval. The defense lawyer leaned over and whispered, “That carries community service, you’ll be fine.” Being able to verifiably reproduce the conditions of the
malfunctioning collection system saved him from a second-degree charge.

“On the charge of bringing Level 9 Energy into city limits without declaring it, we find the defendant: guilty.”

Ras felt the blood drain from his face.

“I hereby declare that the sentence is three weeks of community service in
Verdant
’s engine per level of potency, resulting in no more than twenty-seven weeks,” the Chief Justice said. “The Energy in the hold is to be confiscated and fed to the engines of
Verdant
to prolong its life. In addition, a fine will be imposed equal to the scrap value of
The Copper Fox
, and the court permanently revokes your collection license with no opportunity for appeal as of today.”

With the drop of the gavel, Ras flinched as his future disappeared. He fell to his chair, numb to the shouts of the men and women behind him, suggesting he be locked away forever or tossed over the side.

Bailiffs roughly picked up Ras, escorting him past the throng that could no longer contain their vitriol toward him. He could see his mother in tears, and for a moment thought he caught a glimpse of Callie before he was shoved through the side door. It pained him to imagine the headache she must be suffering just to come out to watch the trial. He struggled not to pick out words like “useless,” “incompetent,” “idiot,” and worst of all, “
Lack
,” filtering into the hallway from the courtroom.

How many cities have been destroyed by one mistake?

Ushered in behind Ras, Emma strode next to her son as he walked down the long corridor. The shouts gave way to the clacks of boots on the hard floor as the entourage escorted Ras toward the side exit of the courthouse. Upon reaching the doors, Ras was met by a throng of reporters and some of the crowd from the courtroom that had already rushed outside to catch one more glimpse of him.

Just before he reached the bottom step, he stopped and turned around to address the crowd. Cameras began snapping wildly and the crowd hushed to hear his statement.

Ras took a breath to speak, held it for a moment, then simply said, “I’m so sorry.” He could already see his picture with those three words atop it on the front page of tomorrow’s newspaper.

Emma stepped into Mr. Tourbillon’s borrowed skiff that awaited them. Ras followed, then shut the passenger door, drowning out the shutter clicks and accusations.

“And with the press of a button, the world hates me,” Ras said.

Emma looked over her son for a moment. “I’ve never told anyone this…but you’re not the only Veir to destroy a Convergence.”

Ras turned his attention from the window to his mother for a moment, waiting.

She continued, “I don’t know how your father found it, but it got us through our early years together. He never told anyone he would dip below the clouds, but little by little, he’d collect enough to not make anyone suspicious. Paid off the ship and house before he killed it.”

Ras didn’t know how he could have gotten so close, being part Knack. “Was it an accident?”

“No.  It was intentional.  Your father got it in his head that Convergences were collections of poor Knack souls that were bound together, waiting to be freed to return to The Origin.”