Joseph Lewis - Halcyon

“What’s this one do?” Bastet reached down for the big lever to the left of her seat.

“Don’t touch that one!” Taziri pointed at the wing release lever. “That would be very bad. Whatever you do, don’t pull the big lever.”

“Okay.” The girl nodded seriously. “I won’t touch the big lever.”

For the next half hour, they sat together in the shade of the Halcyon telling stories about what it was like to grow up as a schoolgirl in Marrakesh or as a priestess in ancient Aegyptus, which was called Kemet before the Persians and the Hellans arrived. Their stories had little in common, and thus they kept entertained by interrupting each other with questions.

“You hear that?” Taziri looked up. She could see nothing but the wall of freight cars that hid the Halcyon from curious eyes, but which also hid the small train station and the street beyond from them. “Sounds like shouting. Sounds like a fight.”

Two gunshots rang out.

Bastet grinned. “You know, it just might be a fight. I’ll take a look.” She stood up and vanished in a soft swirling of aether.

Taziri set down her hose and nozzle and began rolling up her left sleeve to uncover her brace. The bright aluminum wrapping around her forearm gleamed in the morning sunlight. She released the top plate and the small revolver popped up with a soft hiss and the trigger mechanism swung around into her left palm so she could fire it one-handed. When she had first used the original tool tube as a makeshift flare cannon and shotgun, she’d told herself that she was just improvising. But only a few months later she had decided to build the custom revolver attachment for the brace. Not to be worn every day, of course, and never around the house. But on business trips or when working late nights because, well, even a city as civilized as Tingis had its dangers for a woman walking alone in the dark.

Bastet swung into view around the end of the last freight car. “You might want to come see this!”

Taziri jogged to the end of the line and looked out over the train platform and saw two figures running toward the end of the rail yard. The first was a hawk-faced woman in a white jacket with a patch over one eye and a sword in her arms.

Why does she look familiar?

The second runner was a young man with a stubbly scalp, a black leather jacket, and a matte black revolver in his hand.

Well, I know why he looks familiar.

Taziri stepped out from the freight cars and raised her empty hand. “Hello Kenan!”

Both of them slowed to a jog as they looked for the source of the cry, and then seeing the Mazigh woman, they jumped down off the platform and hurried across the gravel yard.

“Captain?” Kenan hustled forward, his face shining with sweat. “You? You’re the one who sent the guide?”

“Guide? What guide?” Taziri swung her gun-arm to the woman in white. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Shifrah,” he said. “You wouldn’t know her, she’s from the east.”

“Oh, I know her.” Taziri nodded.

I couldn’t forget that face. I guess she didn’t spend too much time in jail after all.

The one-eyed woman frowned, then glared. “You!”

“You’ve met?” Kenan asked.

“Your captain here tried to blow me up,” Shifrah said.

“Your girlfriend here tried to hijack the Halcyon. The first Halcyon,” Taziri said. “Back in Arafez during the riots.”

Kenan blinked. “Well, we can chat about that later. We have the sword used to kill Don Lorenzo, and the killer is chasing us with quite a few of his angry friends. Is this your locomotive? We need to go, right now. The guide said we could leave from here.”

“What guide?” Taziri said. Frowning, she lowered her gun, but kept an eye on the woman in white.

“The guide,” Kenan sputtered. “The big black guy with the magical disappearing act?”

“Anubis!” Bastet stepped out from behind the freight car. “Anubis came to you? He told you to come here?”

“Yes, right, Anubis. That’s him.” Kenan nodded.

“Idiot!” Bastet kicked a pile of gravel across the yard. The stones flew over the rail lines and crackled against the old train station like gunfire. “I sent him to help the others. Mirari and Tycho. Not you. That big idiot!”

“What?” Taziri’s gaze wandered up to the platform again. There was a dust cloud rising behind the little train station office, and a vague chorus of angry voices echoed across the streets. “Is Anubis the cousin you went to visit last night? What did you tell him to do?”

Bastet crossed her arms and pouted. “I told him there were two foreigners in the city and he had to help them get the seireiken with the Espani’s soul in it. I told him the name, Aker El Deeb. I even told him what they looked like. A short man with a gun and a tall woman with a knife wearing a mask.”

Taziri looked over at Kenan with his revolver, and at Shifrah with her eye patch and a lone stiletto in her belt. The captain started to laugh.

“I’m not that short,” Kenan muttered.

“Not as short as the man we’re talking about.” Taziri smiled. “But you’ve got the sword, and that’s what matters right now. I’ve got a little science experiment set up back here. We’re all ready to set Don Lorenzo’s soul free. Or as ready as we’re going to be under the circumstances.”

Kenan made a sour face. “You too? With the souls and the ghosts?”

“It’s all real, Kenan,” Taziri said. “Just accept it and move on.”

“Moving on is a good idea. Once we’re out of the city, you can do all the science experiments that you want.”

Taziri shook her head as she walked back toward the Halcyon. “We’re not going anywhere until Qhora and the others get back. And besides, this big bird is out of petrol. The only way out of here is by hitching a ride with another locomotive.”

Kenan glared at her. “I’m sensing a running theme with your career in transportation. Crash this, cripple that. Can’t you keep anything working?”

Taziri stopped and turned to face him, finding him a hair shorter than herself. She said quietly, “The Halcyon III works just fine, thanks. I had no idea we were going to fly as far as Alexandria, but we had to chase a certain murderer out of Carthage. Maybe if a certain detective had been more interested in catching killers than helping them escape, none of us would be here right now.”

Kenan looked away. “Yeah, well, we all have our problems.”

“Look alive, people, we have a visitor.” Shifrah pointed back at the platform.

Taziri turned and saw a young man trotting toward them. He wore green and he appeared to be unarmed, but the two taller gentlemen jogging behind him both had single-shot pistols and long knives in their hands. She leveled her revolver at them. “Is that who I think it is?”

“Aker El Deeb.” Kenan nodded. “Watch yourself. He has anger issues.”

“I want my sword!” the man in green yelled.

Shifrah held up the sheathed blade and called out, “This sword?”

“Careful,” Kenan muttered. “He’s got friends.”

“Only two,” Taziri said.

“No.” Kenan pointed at the station platform. “More than two.”

Taziri watched as a small battle of at least three dozen men raged into view and began creeping closer to the rail yard. The men were yelling and punching and wrestling and grappling. Fists were flying, knives flashed in the sun, and the occasional tooth or spatter of blood flew through the air. A frightened crowd of gawkers had formed a ring around the violence, all of them pressing back a good distance from the fray, all of them pale and wide-eyed, but none of them trying to flee.

“My sword! Now!” Aker pointed at Shifrah. Both of his Shona associates aimed and fired. One bullet twanged off a freight car by the woman’s head, but the other struck her square in the shoulder and she dropped the seireiken as she stumbled back into Kenan.