Joseph Lewis - Halcyon

Kenan nodded back at the crowd, but Syfax shook his head. “Leave it.”

As the threesome approached the harbor master’s office, the drab world of industry shifted abruptly into a bright tableau of signs and flags, banners and lights, all welcoming new arrivals to Port Chellah and beckoning them toward inns, restaurants, teahouses, and a hundred shops peddling silly baubles to remind the buyer of their visit. The miserable grunts and shouts of work became happy calls to enter, to buy, to enjoy, and the soft sighs of string instruments escaped from countless doorways. And under the joyful noise was the almost rhythmic entreaties of the panhandlers begging and blessing the passersby.

Syfax frowned at the press of tourists and the colorful snares erected to catch their money. The bureaucratic block of the harbor master’s office squatted between two piers crowded with old fishermen. At the center of the southern pier, little children ran about the carousel that slowly spun and tooted an old song in time with its old huffing engine. A slender white tower rose from one end of the harbormaster’s office to support a glassy sphere where a pale blue light slowly rotated, almost invisible beneath the glare of the sun. And above the lighthouse, lashed to a flagpole, the Halcyon floated serenely as though suspended from the heavens with invisible strings. Then Syfax’s gaze slipped down to the long red and white paddle ship moored just beside the office. A young man in a white uniform stood at the ship’s gangway, smiling very widely and asking people if they were planning to take the noon ferry, which would be departing shortly, as he reminded them.

“Kenan, you and Ghanima go check the airship. If that’s Ohana up there, find out why she left the airfield. And if it’s not Ohana, arrest the piece of shit who stole our airship.”

“Yes, sir.” Kenan started to leave, then paused. “You’ll be waiting here, sir?”

“I think I’ll take a look around and check a few of these boats.” A steady trickle of women and men broke away from the crowded street to display their tickets, trudge up the ramp, and vanish into the ferry. “Don’t do anything stupid, Kenan.”

“Will do.” He blinked. “I mean, I won’t. I mean, yes, sir.”

Syfax watched the corporal lead the young pilot across the street and into the harbor master’s office. When they were gone, Syfax began moving slowly across the stream of pedestrians. At the base of the ferry’s gangway, he muttered a few discrete words to the suddenly anxious attendant, who stepped aside and let him board without a ticket. The cabin was a single chamber that ran almost the entire length of the ship, lined wall to wall with wooden seats half-filled with families, groups of students, lone business travelers, and more bags and cases than he could count. He slipped aside and allowed the travelers to continue streaming in past him.

A woman spoke in his ear. “I would love to believe that you followed me all this way to accept my generous offer.”

Syfax felt something small and sharp dig into his back. Too small for a gun. A knife? Or something electrical?

“But somehow, I doubt that’s why you’re here.” Chaou tugged on his sleeve. “Let’s sit down over there, out of the way, hm?”

Syfax scanned the indicated corner for an asset, an ally, a weapon, or an escape route, but the only people nearby were two old men reading books and tugging at their beards. The major grinned. Hell, it’s only a knife. I can grab the knife and snap her wrist before she can scratch my coat. So let’s see what the old bat has to say.

Dragging his feet, Syfax came to the end of the row and sat down by the window. Outside and far below, the little waves played and rolled between the piers, slapping lightly against the pilings with a thousand tiny bits of trash bobbing around them.

Chaou sat beside him. “You seem to have recovered rather quickly from our little encounter earlier. God must like you.”

Syfax pursed his lips and looked at the smaller woman sitting beside her. Chaou had wrapped a black cloak around her shoulders and only her golden cuffs peeked out from beneath it. “I think God just likes kicking me around.”

“You think so?” Chaou nodded. “And who decides what God likes? Priests, I suppose. Or sometimes queens, or generals, hm? They’re all just people, no wiser than anyone else.”

“Seriously? A sermon?” Syfax turned his attention back to the water where the rainbow rings of oil mingled with the white islands of foam. “I haven’t had a criminal preach at me in over a year. You killers are very spiritual folks.”

Chaou shifted in her seat. “I wasn’t trying to preach. And I’ll thank you not to refer to me as a criminal or a murderer. Yes, yes, I’ve broken laws and people have died.” She sighed. “But now is not the time to dwell on logistics or administrative details. I have larger concerns. And you, I imagine, have one very small concern at this moment.”

Syfax felt the knife point gently nudge his ribs. Around him, the empty seats were quickly filling and the general murmur of excited children, tired parents, and impatient businesswomen continued to grow. “So tell me about these larger concerns of yours. You said something before about our foreign policy?”

“Don’t patronize me, major. I know you’re not alone here.” The ambassador gave him a tired look. “I’m sure you’d like nothing better than to draw me out into some dry, academic debate while your associates discover that you are missing and storm the ship to save you for the second time today. But I’ve sent two of my less lovely employees to ensure our privacy. I’m afraid your friends won’t be interrupting us again.”

“Good.” Syfax matched her look and tone of boredom and annoyance. “My kid wouldn’t let it go to his head, but I’m sure the pilot girl would be a real pain in the ass. That much success in one day, nah, I don’t think so.”

“I’m glad we agree.”

Syfax felt the jab in his side disappear, and in that instant he grabbed Chaou’s wrist and yanked her arm free of the black cloak. The major saw the sleeve of the gold coat and a hand the color of dark sand, and snaking across the lined palm he saw two veins of copper that hid almost perfectly in the creases of the ambassador’s skin. “What the hell is that?”

Chaou’s hand snapped down and pressed tightly against the marshal’s fingers. Syfax stiffened as the burst of electric current buzzed through his flesh. His head snapped back and his skull cracked against the window frame just before the world faded into a bright white haze.

Syfax blinked, trying to refocus his eyes. The world was dim and filled with a dull whisper of many people talking and moving. He remembered the ferry.

Chaou!

A hand clamped down on his own, pressing it onto the armrest. “Good evening, major, I’m glad you could rejoin us.”

“How long was I out?”

“About six hours.”

Syfax sat up sharply, squinting at the shadowy figures around him, fighting with his weary eyes to understand what the bright dots and lines were in the distance. Chaou laughed and Syfax heard the soft hiss of something sliding, and suddenly the world was quite bright again. The ambassador had raised the window shade and Syfax stared out at the blue water sparkling beneath the midday sun.

“Did I say six hours? I can be so careless about the time. You have my heartfelt apologies. I’m afraid you’ve only been unconscious for a few moments.” She patted Syfax’s hand. “Not to worry, you didn’t miss very much. After I relieved you of your sidearm, the ferry captain made a brief announcement, and there was some banging around on deck, and then the ship started rumbling and vibrating a bit. But it’s all settled down now that we’re under way.”