The Wind Merchant Page 10

  “You!” Someone Ras didn’t know shouted from one of the beds with a gash in his temple. He pointed accusingly at Ras. Two of the orderlies moved to restrain him as he attempted to get up from the bed. “This is all your fault! They wouldn’t have attacked if they didn’t smell blood!” He wrestled against the two men. “Let me go!”

  Finn turned and noticed Ras. Striding over, he said, “I can’t have a riot in here.” His voice held more sympathy than Ras expected.

  “Where’s Billie?” Ras asked, eyes flitting among the patients.

  “She manned one of the cannons,” Finn said.

  Ras knew Verdant had its own defenses scattered throughout the perimeter of the city, but didn’t know where to find them. “Is she still down there?”

  “The sons of Remnants targeted the city’s weapons. I haven’t received anyone from there yet, and I don’t expect to.” Finn bowed his head for a moment, the cries of pain beckoning him back into the ward. “Please go.”

  “What Sub-level?” Ras asked.

  “Fifteen. Why?”

  Ras bolted back into the hallway. He had to get to the defense platform, but found every elevator to be either packed or disabled. Finding a door labeled stairwell, he burst through it and began his descent down the spiral staircase.

  He had to fight the crowds bringing the injured up to the medical center. He kept an eye out for anyone resembling Billie, but had no luck.

  Sub-level Fifteen’s stairwell door took a hefting to open as the top hinge had broken loose already. He scraped the door open just enough to fit himself through and saw a mostly collapsed ceiling; apparently Sub-level Fourteen had fallen through, scattering an array of broken pipes and sparking wires.

  In the non-collapsed portions of the corridor, Ras could make out a row of large, seated cannons and piles of cannon balls in barrels bolted to the floor next to them. Daylight flooded in where some of the cannons had moved out to a platform outside of the corridor.

  Reaching the first cannon, he saw a man seated atop the weapon, slumped over its controls. Next to it dangled a harnessed person whom Ras guessed to be the cannon loader.

  “Billie!” Ras called out, scrambling over bent girders and pipes that spat steam irregularly.

  “I haven’t found her yet,” a voice shouted back, its owner hidden in the wreckage further down the bay.

  “Who’s there?”

  Guy stepped out from behind one of the cannons, caked with dust and blood. “Oh. You.”

  Ras trudged forward, occasionally tangling his feet in the debris as he walked toward Guy. “I thought she worked in the office—”

  “Who sent you down here?”

  It was difficult to know what sort of response would set off Guy’s temper, so Ras answered quickly. “Nobody. Where would she be?”

  Guy hoisted a thin sheet of metal bulkhead that had collapsed down over a body, and he swore before gently lowering the wreckage.

  Clearing a wrecked cannon, Ras came close enough to see the bulkhead covering up a bloodied arm. “Is that…”

  “No,” Guy said. “Her name was Rin, not that you’d care.”

  “And why wouldn’t I care?” Ras felt his temper flare. “I’m as much a son of Verdant as you are.”

  Guy huffed in grim amusement. “I’m Merronian, you idiot.” He paused. “And where were you when all this happened, huh? Hiding?”

  Ras became very aware that he didn’t bear a single battle scar from the attacks. “No, I was…” He stopped, avoiding the bait. “Never mind.” He turned his attention to the next section of wreckage.

  “I already looked there. Where were you?” Guy narrowed his eye at Ras. “You weren’t at Eight when we needed you.”

  “I was trying to figure out a way to save Verdant,” Ras said.

  “And how’d that work out?” Guy asked, gesturing to the wreckage.

  “I can get Helios engines installed.”

  Guy stared at Ras with a blank expression before throwing his head back in a laugh. “Well, why didn’t you say so? Did India Bravo offer you that?” He spat. “Or how about Foster Helios III himself? Oh, wait, let’s make it a crazy Veir family tradition and say it was Hal Napier.”

  “Shut up!” Ras reached forward to shove Guy, but quickly found his forward momentum used against him and he hit the ground. He spun around, launching himself at Guy before being thrown back down in the same fashion. “You don’t get to talk about my father!”

  “Why not? He let Merron sink. He did everything he could and then some to stop Bravo Company from taking Verdant, but when his next door neighbor faced the same threat…nothing.” Guy looked down at the young man. “And he could have. He could have so very easily fought that fight again if half of what everyone says about him was true. But he let India Bravo slaughter half the city and push most of the second half off its side just to see if she could make a Convergence.”

  Ras considered continuing the fight, but knew that every moment spent squabbling was another that Billie might need to survive.

  “Bet nobody told you that story, huh?” Guy asked. “Did you ever realize that he skipped town just after the Merronian refugees arrived? He wasn’t on a mission from some long-dead savior, he just couldn’t live with himself after looking into the faces of everyone he let down.” Guy clenched his jaw. His fists shook in anger. “So where were you when we needed you?”

  Ras picked himself up and stared at Guy, then beyond. Looking out the open bay doors, Ras saw one of the cannons outside on the gunnery platform, and a mop of curly hair adorning the gunner. “Billie!”

  Guy turned to look and they dashed toward the open bay doors.

  Ras stopped immediately upon seeing the five-foot-long rail system leading to the cannon wasn’t designed for people to walk on it, and the fact that the cannon hung in midair at the end of the rail certainly didn’t make him feel any more confident. He looked down at the foot-wide beam, and the sea of clouds below blinded him momentarily, as his eyes had grown accustomed to the dark of the sub-level.

  “Are you all right?” Ras shouted. He couldn’t tell if her head moved or if it was the wind just shifting her hair around.

  “There’s a lever on the cannon that calls it back in,” Guy said.

  “Why don’t you pull it?” Ras asked.

  Guy pointed to his eyepatch. “I don’t do depth perception.”

  Against his better judgment, Ras stepped one foot on the beam leading out to the cannon, then another. He cautiously walked forward until a gust of wind made him lose his balance for a moment. Waving his arms wildly, he caught himself before lunging forward to grasp the back of Billie’s seat. Pulling himself up and then alongside the cannon, Ras nearly bumped into a harnessed young man slumped against the weapon.

  Billie’s glassy eyes peered down at Ras as her left hand clutched the dark spot surrounding a bullet wound in her chest.

  “She’s alive!” Ras looked around the small platform until he spotted a lever. He disengaged the safety and pulled it back. The cannon ratcheted back into Verdant, and the bay doors slammed shut behind it. He clambered up to Billie as she slumped in her seat. “Hey, hey, stay with me. Let’s get you to Finn, all right?” She moved her eyes slowly to look at Ras, whom Guy quickly pushed aside.

  Guy unfastened her restraints to ease her down to the ground with Ras’ help. “Don’t you dare leave me,” Guy said, cradling her head.

  Billie said something too softly for Ras to hear so he pulled in close.

  “What’s that?” Ras could smell the blood, sweat, and grease mixed in with the tang of the gunpowder.

  Again she mouthed, this time with a faint smile. “Home.”

  Billie went slack.

  Guy gently closed her eyelids. “She didn’t deserve this.”

  The world spun on Ras. His staunchest defender was gone. Tears formed and he made no pretense of strength. “I don’t care if you believe me or not, Guy, but I talked to Hal Napier.”

  Guy remained silent
.

  “He was the one who stopped the attack on Verdant—”

  “Not in time.”

  “I know,” Ras said, then paused. “I’m sorry about Merron, and I’m sorry about Billie.”

  “Don’t say her name,” Guy said, shooting a glare at Ras.

  Ras continued, unflinching, “But my father wasn’t a coward. He died trying to save Verdant.” He thought for a moment. “And I’m probably going to follow in his footsteps, but that isn’t going to stop me from trying.”

  Guy continued to cradle Billie, his breathing slow and labored. “I don’t want to see your face again unless you make good on that promise.”

  The ache of Billie’s loss had fully settled in by the time Ras reached the salvage yard. Years ago he had selected all of the components for The Copper Fox when he built her. Slade, the owner of the yard, rubbed his old, bald head, leaving a smudge of grease atop it.

  “Sorry Ras, I knew how much she meant to you,” Slade said, kicking a small compression coil back to one of the massive piles of scrap. “I’m not saying who I sold the parts to.”

  “I just want to see if I can buy one part back for sentimental value,” Ras said.

  “Never heard of someone trying to buy a bad luck charm. Besides, how’d you like it if you had half a dozen guys chasing you down trying to get back the parts you had picked for The Fox?”

  “If they made me decent offers…”

  “No, Ras. You lost your ship for good reason. You’re lucky I don’t contact the guy that bought your ship to warn him you’ll be by.”

  Bought my ship... not ship parts...

  “All right Slade, you win. Sorry I asked.”

  Slade swallowed hard. “You know Ras, you really did a lot of us a bad turn. Some folk sell little things like books or hats. They pack up their shop and set up somewhere new. How am I gonna move any of this stuff anywhere?” he asked, gesturing to the piles of parts.

  “I don’t know, but I’m doing everything I can to put things right.”

  Slade grunted and spat on the ground.

  Searching the undamaged sections of the docks for The Copper Fox would take at least a full day, as they made up eighty percent of the perimeter of Verdant. There were thousands of slips to check and to even begin to start looking in the right area, Ras would need a guide. He needed Old Harley.

  Ras considered checking the hospital before deciding to see if Old Harley wasn’t already back home on his ship, and if that ship hadn’t been decimated during the attack.

  It took an hour on foot for Ras to make his way to the Western docks while safely avoiding anyone from Port Authority. Old Harley’s decrepit airship was more a house than a wind merchant vessel ever since he removed the collection tank to make way for a living room. Atop the ship, the man himself sat in a wheelchair, surveying the smoke billowing from Verdant.

  Ras pulled in close alongside the ship and softly called up, “Harley!” He could hear the squeak of the wheelchair inching to the edge.

  “Who’s there?”

  “Harley, I don’t have much time. Someone bought my ship and I need to convince whoever it was that I need it to save Verdant.”

  “Erasmus?” Harley asked, poking his head over the railing.

  “You were right. My dad had a mission from Hal Napier and if I can get my ship and do the job for him, he’ll replace the engines on Verdant.”

  “I knew it!” Harley exclaimed a little too loudly.

  “How do I find my ship, Harley? Quickly.”

  “Oh! Go to the dock registry terminal at Southport,” he said as two members of Port Authority walked by. “Good afternoon, Shane. Caedmon.” He nodded to the men, then waited until they left. “Look at the ships added in the last week.” Harley said, “Whoever bought it probably renamed it.”

  “Thanks Harley,” Ras said.

  “Now hurry up before I report you,” Old Harley said with a smile. “Give my regards to Hal.”

  Another half hour brought him to the Port Authority terminal with the log book. Most men were busy putting out fires on some of the airships, and Ras ran up to the book, flipping to the end of the log.

  There had only been one new ship registered at the docks in the past week. Name: The Onlo Ann. Registrant: Freddie Tibbs.

  Ras made the long walk to the Southern Docks and arrived at The Onlo Ann’s slip at about five-thirty. He passed by the space reserved for the Veir family and remembered how his mother used to take him there as a small child to see Elias off before each collection run. He’d hug Elias’ leg, begging him not to leave, and Emma would comfort him, telling him that Daddy would be back before he knew it. So little Ras would plant himself on the dock after The Silver Fox had left and then he would call “Dad?” every time an airship passed by until Emma had to explain to him that he would be gone for days, not minutes.

  Seeing the empty slip made those emotions well up. He now understood why his mother had accompanied Elias to the dock before every trip to kiss him goodbye.

  In a matter of minutes, Ras arrived at the slip for The Onlo Ann. There sat The Copper Fox, garishly decorated with party lights and some deck furniture. He could hear a muffled rhythm from inside as he approached the gangplank. Music?

  “Tibbs?” No response. Ras called out again. The music coming from below deck softened before the footsteps grew, and out walked Freddie Tibbs, whose outfit consisted of a dingy bathrobe, shorts, and sandals. The drink in his hand completed the ensemble.

  “Slade said you’d probably be by,” Tibbs said, a touch inebriated.

  “I’m just glad she wasn’t chopped up,” Ras said, trying to ease his way into the inevitably awkward question he knew he had to ask.

  “Chopped up, no. Gutted, yes,” he said, uncaring. “Couldn’t get the tank out though. Too big.”

  Ras’ fists tightened, and the pain fed the frustration. “Ah, yeah…had to build the ship around that. What happened to your old ship?”

  “It’s a few slips down. Dad said I needed to get my own place and this thing was dirt cheap.”

  “Your old ship doesn’t have a Captain’s quarters?” Ras asked, trying to hold back his anger.

  “It does, but who wants to live and work in one place? Gets old fast,” Tibbs said, then motioned for Ras to come aboard. “I’m being rude, want anything to drink?”

  You don’t want me compromised right now. “No, I’m good.”

  “Suit yourself.” Tibbs watched Ras walk across the gangplank. “I thought about fixing her up to sell to one of the pilots that lost their ship in the attack…demand’s high right now…but y’know, there’s something reassuring about having a backup.”

  “Beats no ship at all,” Ras said.

  “Or I might use her as a transport. People would pay well to get a ride off this city.” He eyed Ras, gauging what reaction the suggestions would bring. “Slade said you wanted to buy a piece of her for nostalgia.”

  Ras remained silent.

  “Tell you what, if it won’t make the ship fall apart by prying it loose, it’s yours. I wanted to redecorate anyway,” he said.

  “How about the keys?” Ras said, half-joking.

  Tibbs let out a big belly laugh. “You lost her fair and square, Rassy. Besides, you can’t even fly anything bigger than a paper airplane without a license.”

  “I was offered a job.”

  “Oh? You want to save up and buy her back? I’m not that attached.”

  “I’d need a ship, but if I do the job, then The Collective will replace the scoop engines on Verdant with Helios ones. Verdant will be safe.”

  “Just in time for Bravo Company to take over,” Tibbs said. “Do you think I’m stupid enough to believe a story like that and just loan you the ship? You know what? Never mind. She’s not on the market. You screwed things up for everybody and now you’re trying to steal my house. You should go before I call Port Authority.”

  “Why? You invited me aboard.”

  “For skipping on community serv
ice,” Tibbs said.

  Ras shook his head and began to walk away.

  “Tell your mother I’ll give her a discount if she needs a ride off this forsaken city. I know she needs it,” Tibbs said. “Well, I guess there are other ways to get on ships.”

  Something broke. Ras spun on his heel and threw a fist into Tibbs jaw. The larger wind merchant fell back a couple of steps, then planted himself back on the deck, tripping over his own feet. He blinked dumbly as Ras shook out his hand.

  “I’m calling the Sheriff!” Tibbs shouted.

  “Good,” Ras said. “Maybe I’ll get an extra month. I hear seven is lucky.” He turned to walk back to the residential zone. Day one was coming to a close and he was quickly running out of ideas of how to legally procure a ship.

  As Ras walked back to his house, he spotted a fair face peeking at him from the basement window before it disappeared. Soon Callie ran out to meet him.

  “Any leads?” she asked.

  “Tibbs has The Fox, but he’d never sell it to me,” Ras said. “Not that I have any way to buy it from him.”

  Callie looked lost in thought for a moment. “I talked to some people from University, but nobody had a ship they’re willing to loan or part with,” she said. “Ras, nobody expects this from you except you. I’m not saying you should give up, just don’t ask too much from yourself, okay?”

  Ras nodded.

  “Maybe I can go talk with Tibbs.”

  Ras was about to protest when the front door of the Veir home swung open. Sheriff Pauling and three deputies exited. “Erasmus, how’s your hand feeling?”

  “Verdant is burning, and this is what you’re focusing on?” Ras asked, earning a forceful cuffing from one of the deputies.

  Emma mouthed a silent I’m sorry to Ras.

  The ceiling of the jail cell was becoming far too familiar as Ras lay on the hard wood cot, staring up. Sheriff Pauling had tried several times to get the young man to talk, but Ras’ silent treatment had finally earned him his solitude and Pauling went home to his family.