Joseph Lewis - Halcyon

The engineer stood, straightened her jacket, and shuffled back to the open hatch. She flicked the winch switch and listened to the tiny motor winding up the steel cable until a dull thump signaled the arrival of Medur Hamuy against the gondola’s hull. Taziri locked the winch again and squatted down by the hatch where she could see her prisoner’s soaked back pressed up against the hatchway. “So. Whenever you’re ready.”

At first, there was nothing. Then she heard some coughing and spitting. Eventually, Hamuy stuttered, “Th-they’ll…k-k-kill…m-me.”

Taziri squinted out across the bay. “We can do it again. We can do it all day, actually. I’ve got nothing else to do right now.”

Silence. The engineer and doctor exchanged a dull look. Taziri felt her insides quivering like a frightened bird. What the hell am I doing? Dragging a man through the bay?

He killed all those people! He could kill more. And he knows who I am, where I’m from. Yuba and Menna…

Taziri swallowed the lump in her throat and exhaled slowly.

Yuba and Menna.

The whirlwind in her head subsided.

Yuba and Menna.

They could die. She could come home and find them dead, murdered by a monster just like Hamuy.

They have to be stopped. All the monsters have to be stopped.

A cold steeliness calmed her hands and steadied her voice. “How’s that salt feel?”

“There’s…l-lots…of th-them.” Hamuy’s voice shook. “Rich. P-Powerful.”

“And?”

“I don’t know! Th-th-they hate foreigners, b-but they h-hate the queen more.” Hamuy wheezed for a moment. “I just, I just work for Chaou.”

“All right. So where are they?”

“I don’t know!” Hamuy whined. “I–I just w-w-work for Chaou.”

Taziri rubbed her eyes, trying to decide what to ask. “Well, where does Chaou go when she visits Port Chellah? Any special friends?”

Silence.

“Where does she go?”

“N-nowhere!” Hamuy’s voice was almost lost to the wind. “We don’t c-come here. She’s the ambassador to Espana. We’re either up north or down at the capital.”

Taziri frowned. You’re an engineer, so be an engineer. Pick the problem apart to find the solution. We need more information. “Tell me about the metal plate in your chest. I assume you were there when they put it in.”

Silence.

The doctor leaned forward to look at the prisoner’s back. “He may be unconscious.”

“Medur?” Taziri reach down to slap his wet shoulder. “Who put the plate in your chest? A doctor? A friend of Chaou’s? Give me the name.”

After a bit of retching, Hamuy said, “An Espani called Medina. Elena Medina.”

“Where?”

“Arafez.”

Taziri stood and hit the winch switch. The little motor whined as it hauled its load up over the hatch’s lip and into the cabin. Hamuy howled as his raw arm and shoulder dragged over the threshold. The winch clicked off, leaving the prisoner to huff and wheeze and shudder on the floor.

“That’s a start.” Taziri rubbed her eyes, then leaned out and pulled the hatch shut. The cabin suddenly plunged into a warm silence as the cool sea breezes vanished. She avoided looking at the shivering mound of cloth and flesh on the cabin floor. “We’re missing something. I doubt Chaou murdered her way out of Tingis just to visit Port Chellah. Crashing the Crake was a mistake or an accident. She must be going somewhere else, somewhere in the south, and without an airship she’ll need a train or a boat. Maybe a private yacht to Acra or the ferry going up the canal to Nahiz.”

“If Nahiz is on the way to Orossa, then I endorse that theory.” Evander twisted about to peer out the window at the harbor below. “But I see a lot of boats down there. Your ambassador might be on any of them. Or none of them.”

“I know.” Taziri slipped back into the cockpit and gripped the throttles. “And we can’t check them all, or even find them all. But there’s only one ferry and it leaves at noon. So we have a little time.”

“To do what?” Evander asked. “We’re alone up here.”

“I know that too. That’s why we’re going down there.” The engines hummed a little louder and the shadows inside the cabin began shifting and sliding as Taziri turned the airship back toward the city. “The ferry lands at the pier next to the harbor master’s office. That office has a lighthouse tower with a flagpole on top. I’ve always thought that flagpole would make an excellent airship mooring mast. Let’s go find out. We’ll watch the pier. If we spot Chaou, maybe we can find the marshals, too.”

The doctor said, “What if Hamuy’s friends from the airfield find us? This flying monstrosity is hardly subtle or discreet. And what if they have guns? What if they shoot at the balloon?”

Taziri glanced over her shoulder at the Hellan. “Early retirement.”

“Unacceptable!”

“I agree,” Taziri muttered. She remembered the soft touch of her daughter’s fat cheeks and the strength of Yuba’s arms around her. “But we’ll just have to take whatever God gives us.”

Striding down the harbor-side road, the major glared up at the sky. He didn’t know whether to be more concerned or angry.

What is that woman doing? Why did she leave the airfield? Why is she racing around the bay? Or did someone kill Ohana and steal the ship?

Anger or concern? He chose to be optimistic. “What the hell is she doing?”

Ghanima sped up to walk beside him. “She might be looking for us.”

“Why? She can’t possibly think she can spot three people from a thousand feet overhead.”

Kenan squinted into the midmorning sun. “We’ve been gone for a while. She probably started to worry about us. All of us.”

“That I believe,” Syfax said. “I shouldn’t have brought her. She was too emotional in Tingis, moody and distracted all night. Probably thinking about her family the whole time.”

“Major, look!” Ghanima pointed up. “She’s coming down over the harbor. Over there!”

Syfax watched the long silvery airship and its dark gondola sweeping in low over the inner harbor, the distant drone of its propellers just barely reaching his ears. “What’s she doing now?”

“Maybe she crossed the bay to get our attention and now she’s going to wait for us.” Kenan glanced around them at the carts and merchants and dockworkers and freight trolleys bustling up and down the lane. The high sun and the rippling waters conspired to flood the city with light, and the smell of salt hung heavy in the air, tinged with hints of factory waste and gull droppings.

“Maybe.” Syfax scanned back and forth across the endless surge of faces around them, hungry for a glimpse of a small woman in a gold coat. None appeared. “Maybe not. Either way, we have to go check it out.”

They continued past warehouses with doors flung open to reveal mounds of ore, piles of crude beams, refined metal sheets, palettes of bricks and ingots, and barrels of powder. Filthy, sweaty men from every nation on the continent groaned beneath or behind some load that gleamed of dull gray, burnt orange, or silvery white. Armored trolleys dark with rust rolled down their tracks along the waterfront behind puffing steam engines. The high-pitched whistles and squeals of brakes punctuated the low murmurs of labor and the chaos of the ships creeping in and out of the quays with engines rumbling and sails luffing in the shifting winds.

On their left they passed a strange calm in the storm of industry. Through the open doorways of one warehouse they saw dozens of men standing in a tight knot. A woman in a green suit was speaking to them, and suddenly they burst into angry shouts, shaking their fists. As the marshals moved on, they heard the crash of a trolley overturned. Syfax glanced back and saw the woman in green running from the warehouse as the men spilled out into the street, hollering at her about hours, wages, and children.