Airborn

by Kenneth Oppel

  “I’ve missed you, lad!” Szpirglas said, lifting the boy onto his lap. “Thank you, Delilah,” he said to the woman, and she nodded obediently and departed. “This,” he said proudly to me and Kate, “is my son, Theodore.”

  I could feel my surprise, like an earthquake’s tremor, about to ripple across my face, but hoped I managed to stop it in time. It seemed impossible that a cold-hearted thief and murderer like Szpirglas should have a son. And a handsomer little fellow I’d never seen, with huge brown eyes and a perfect bowed mouth, wavy hair that would become curly like his father’s one day, and eyebrows that made his whole face seem intent.

  “Hello, Theodore,” Kate and I said, in almost perfect unison, with the same forced jollity.

  “Did you have good adventures?” Theodore asked his father.

  “The things I saw!” Szpirglas exclaimed.

  “Well, go on and tell me,” the boy said with studied patience, as though this were a game they were both used to playing.

  “Well, there’s a great deal to tell. Do you know what I saw, though?”

  “What?”

  “A night rainbow. I did, I swear.”

  “What did it look like?”

  “Like a normal rainbow, only cast by the moon’s glow it was, all across the midnight sky. All the colors you can imagine. It spanned one horizon to another.”

  “I want to see one!” the boy said indignantly.

  “You will. When you’re older and we’re flying together, we’ll stay up late on the perfect night of a full moon and wait for one.”

  “What else?”

  “I saw the seahorse again.”

  “The giant one?”

  “And he wasn’t by himself anymore. We were sailing low over the ocean and that water was clear as crystal, and I could see them all below surface. There was a whole herd of them this time. Brilliant orange, each as big as a dolphin, flying through the water.”

  I listened, momentarily swept up in the beauty of his tales. Szpirglas’s face and voice were completely altered as he talked to his son, with none of the sharp, mocking humor I’d seen in him aboard the Aurora, none of the danger. His eyes were as wide and guileless as those of his boy. Theodore listened, rapt. My father had once told me such stories.

  It made me angry that a man like him should have a son. This boy did not know who his father was, the things he’d done—and if he did, would it even have mattered? What did any of that have to do with him? Here was his father, the man who had adventures, who told glorious stories and held him on his lap and kissed his head. There was nothing else of importance.

  “I brought you something,” Szpirglas said, “and then it’s off to bed with you.”

  “What is it?” the boy asked, sitting bolt upright.

  “I hope I didn’t forget it…”

  “Papa!”

  “No, no, here it is.” Szpirglas riffled through his breast pocket and brought out a small gold astrolabe. I recognized it at once, for it used to rest in the display case of the Aurora’s A-Deck reception lounge. An artifact from airship days of old.

  The boy took it in his small starfish hands.

  “An astrolabe,” he breathed.

  “Very good. With this, you can cross all the skies of the world using nothing but the stars. Handsome thing, isn’t it?” he said, looking at me.

  “Very, sir,” I said.

  “Now then, where’s Delilah?” Szpirglas asked. She appeared as if conjured and took Theodore’s hand. The boy didn’t want to leave his father.

  “I’ll see you first thing tomorrow,” the pirate promised. “Shall we have breakfast together? You come and wake me the moment you’re up, and we’ll dine just you and me. But now, it’s late for you. Good night, my son.”

  I couldn’t look away as he gathered his son once more in his arms and kissed his cheek. The boy kissed him back.

  “His mother died in childbirth,” said Szpirglas as he watched his son led away by his nurse. “He’s a fine lad, don’t you think?”

  “Yes,” Kate said. “He’ll look like you when he’s grown.”

  “Do you think?” Szpirglas asked, pleased.

  “Oh, yes.”

  Dinner was served. The pirates were eager enough for it, judging by the surge of cheering from the dining hall. It looked like pork, but at a glance I could tell it was overdone, and the rice looked a tad singed too. Chef Vlad would have had a fit if he’d seen it. He wouldn’t have served it to the ship’s cat, if we’d had one.

  The pirates didn’t mind. Through the doorway I could see all the men and women assembled inside, and they gave a thumping chorus of approval and set to eating happily, cheered no doubt by the frothing mugs upon their tables.

  Kate and I ate. We were castaways: we’d eaten next to nothing in two days; we were half-starved. I sluiced the meal down with the mango juice that kept filling up our mugs and felt better than I should have after eating such fare. Indeed, I felt almost relaxed and couldn’t account for it. My thinking was clear and fast, and our situation didn’t seem as dire as it had earlier. We were fooling Szpirglas; we would continue our playacting and tell our shaggy dog stories, and then we’d slip away under cover of night, back to our ship, and be gone.

  The evening was cooling, and it was amazing how much fresher the air was here on the windward side of the island. For the first time in days I felt my sense of claustrophobia lift. From the verandah I saw the sun near the horizon, searing the ocean. The wonderful low light slanted through the trees, bathing everything red.

  Szpirglas’s wineglass sparkled as he raised it to his lips. Inside the lodge, the women sang. The mango juice was delicious. The food did not taste so dry.

  Suddenly my stomach clenched.

  I was getting drunk. Some flavorless alcohol had been added to our mango juice, and I’d been guzzling it down like an idiot. So that was Szpirglas’s game—he wanted the truth from us and wasn’t above gliding it out of us with drink. I looked at Kate, and she smiled back at me, her cheeks flushed. How pretty she looked. But we would say something foolish soon if we were not careful. I took a deep breath, tried to sharpen up my mind.

  “How many other passengers were you carrying?” Szpirglas asked me.

  “Just the two, sir. Miss Simpkins and her mother.”

  “It was a private charter, then, was it?”

  I nodded, and perhaps it was the lift of Szpirglas’s eyebrow, but suddenly I realized my mistake. All along I’d thought it would be easier to explain away a smaller ship and fewer passengers. There would be less wreckage, fewer survivors who might wash up on the island. But Szpirglas saw what I hadn’t. A private charter meant wealthy passengers. And if Kate was wealthy, how wealthy? Who would be glad to get her back? How much would they be willing to pay?

  “Your wristwatch,” Szpirglas said to Kate, “does it still work?”

  I turned in dismay; I’d forgotten Kate had a wristwatch, concealed beneath the sleeve of her tunic until now. It was a fancy-looking thing too, the strap inlaid with some kind of jewels. I did not know their names, but they looked sparkly enough, and no doubt Szpirglas had instantly totted up their value in his head. Only someone wealthy would have a wristwatch as fine as this one. I felt sick.

  “It does work, you know,” said Kate. “Isn’t that amazing, after being waterlogged and thrashed about?”

  This was a clever bit of covering up on Kate’s part, for the chances of a wristwatch surviving a shipwreck and sea journey aboard a raft were next to nil.

  “A miraculous piece of machinery,” said Szpirglas. “Swiss, perhaps?”

  “Icelandic, actually.”

  “Now, then, you must have loved ones you’re both eager to contact,” said Szpirglas, putting down his fork and pushing back in his chair.

  “Is it possible?” Kate asked, eyes widening with hope. “My father will be desperate. He was waiting for us in the Hawaiis. Mother and I were visiting my aunt.”

  “You all live in the Hawaiis, do you?�
�� Szpirglas asked.

  “Yes. Not originally. We moved there for my father’s work.”

  “And what work does your father do there?”

  “He’s the chief superintendent of police,” said Kate.

  “Is he?” said Szpirglas, smiling.

  “His work is very demanding, or he would have come with us on our trip.”

  I did not know what to think of this invention. Was she trying to deter Szpirglas from harming us, thinking he’d fear incurring the full wrath of the police? I did not like it—it might easily have the opposite effect on a man like Szpirglas. Worse, he might actually know the name of the police chief, in which case we had just been discovered as liars. But it was out now, and I would have to abide by its new rules. I wished Kate were not so enthusiastic at this game of deceit.

  “Mr. Crumlin, bring pen and paper for these two so they can write messages.” He turned to us. “Make sure to include the address so we can telegram them for you.”

  “Would you!” said Kate.

  “And your family too, my lad. Let them know you’re all right.”

  I nodded eagerly, but a worry sprang into my head. No doubt they did have a wireless on board, but this was just a ruse. What they really wanted was to check on Kate’s identity.

  “We’ll radio in the morning from our ship. We’ll take off first thing and you can show us to the crash site—as close as you can recall anyway, and we can begin a search for your dear mother. After that, we can arrange for your passage on to the Hawaiis.”

  “You’re very kind, sir. Thank you,” said Kate.

  “Not at all, miss. It’s a pleasure to assist such fine young people.” He looked at Kate as he said this, and I did not care for the look.

  “Now, tonight, all you need do is rest yourselves. Our accommodation is a bit humbler than you’re used to, no doubt, Miss Simpkins, but please take my private cabin for yourself. It will give you some comfort.”

  “Oh, no, that’s quite unnecessary.”

  “I insist. Mr. Cruse, you won’t mind bunking with Mr. Crumlin and me?”

  “Not at all, no. Thank you very much.”

  I’d feared as much. I’d assumed Kate and I were to be separated, but I hadn’t counted on sharing a room with Szpirglas and his mate.

  Mr. Crumlin appeared with some dog-eared bits of paper and a bottle of ink.

  “There you are,” said Szpirglas. “Just a brief note to let them know you’re well. No point in adding more worry to your traumas.”

  What was I to do? I scribbled a note and invented an address in Lionsgate City.

  “And now you, miss,” said Szpirglas, moving the nib and bottle over to her.

  I could not imagine what she would write, but prayed she would invent some address. The message itself did not matter, but I wondered if Kate was thinking clearly.

  “My father will be so relieved,” she said, “and most grateful. Is there some way we can make a donation to the Sky Guard in thanks? I can think of no more worthier institution than yours.”

  “You’re very kind, miss.”

  “My father is most influential, and I’m sure he’d be only too happy to sing your praises.”

  I wished she’d shut up about her father and all his money. She was not helping.

  “Now, then, let me speak to my steward and see about your cabin, Miss Simpkins.”

  He and Mr. Crumlin left us alone at the table. The other crew were still swilling and eating inside, the windows tipped open. There was much loud singing and cheering. We could finally speak together.

  “Shush about your father,” I told her.

  “Why?”

  “He might think you’re worth holding on to for a ransom.”

  “We’re escaping,” she said jauntily.

  I frowned. Typical of her to have the fairy-tale plan. Easy as that. Let’s just escape. Never mind that I’d be cooped up in a room with Szpirglas and his mate.

  “Got it all figured out, then, do you?”

  “I do, actually. Can I finish off your mango juice?”

  “No.” I pushed the mug away from her reaching hand. “It’s spiked with something. He’s trying to get us drunk so we’d slip up if we were lying.”

  “Good luck to him,” she said. “I’m not in the slightest bit slipsy.”

  “You just said slipsy.”

  “I know. I was just teasing. Now listen,” she whispered, “when everyone’s asleep, we’ll slip out of our rooms and get back to the ship. It’ll be ready to take off by morning, won’t it?”

  She wasn’t as dopey as I’d thought. “That’s what I’m hoping,” I told her. “Can you find your way across the landing field to the place we came out of the forest? Do you remember the way?”

  “Of course,” she said, her nostrils narrowing a bit. “I’m not as hopeless as you like to think.”

  “Good. We’ll meet there.” I thought briefly of the cloud cat, but surely it was not nocturnal: we’d always seen it during the day.

  “Shall we set a time?” Kate asked.

  “No point. These lads may be up to all hours whooping it up. Wait until it gets quiet, and make your run when you can. It’ll be a big moon tonight, and clear, so keep to the shadows. There may be lookouts. Then just wait for me in the trees if I’m not already there.”

  I wished the plan could have been better. If I’d known where we were each to be lodged, we might have made a rendezvous sooner; as it was, we’d just have to do our best alone.

  I saw Szpirglas coming back toward us and all I had time to say to Kate safely was “Don’t fall asleep,” and then we shut up. There could be no more planning. I only hoped that we’d played our parts well enough, that Szpirglas thought us ignorant and would not be expecting us to flee the village in the dead of night.

  17

  THE PIT

  “You take the hammock, my lad,” Szpirglas said. “It’s sure to give you a good night’s sleep, and you need it.”

  “Oh, no, Captain Anglesea, sir. You should have it,” I said, trying to hide my dismay.

  “Won’t hear of it,” said Szpirglas, all courtesy. “I’ve had my fill of hammocks aboard ship anyway. I’ll be happy as a king to sleep on solid ground tonight.” He nodded at a reed mat on the floor. It was practically beneath my hammock.

  “Thank you very much,” I said, feeling greasy with all the pork and rice and mango juice. “You’re very kind.” I protested no more, for I did not want to make him suspicious.

  A hammock is a tricky thing to get into. Perch on the edge and it will flip you off. You’ve got to get right into the middle, fast. I hopped in backward, and the ropes creaked like the devil’s own accordion. You’d think the thing was spun from rusted gossamer. I swallowed. Getting off quietly would be next to impossible, especially with Szpirglas directly underfoot.

  Crumlin was settling down into a second hammock. The room was actually his and was off the dining hall in the big lodge. It was well past midnight, and the last of the pirates had now left for their own huts and bunkhouses. I could only hope they would sleep deeply after all the grog they’d gulped.

  Szpirglas looked at me and laughed.

  “Do you mean to sleep in your boots, then?”

  “Oh.” There they were, still on my feet. I tried to look surprised and laughed, for I had left them on in the hopes no one would notice. I would need them in the forest, and I didn’t want to waste time fumbling for them in the middle of the night.

  With a heavy heart I unlaced them and carefully dropped them on the floor near the top of the hammock. I hoped I would not have to leave them behind.

  “You’ll sleep better for it, lad,” said Szpirglas, taking off his own boots.

  I couldn’t believe I was bunking down with pirates. Not an everyday sort of thing. It was a wonder to me they even slept; I couldn’t imagine such men at rest, their faces smooth and innocent despite the wickedness of their hearts.

  “You’re an impressive lad, to survive what you did,” S
zpirglas said as he doused the oil lantern. “You might give some thought to working for us, you know. Now that your own ship has been lost. We’ve need of a good cabin boy. Our last decided to leave us.”

  At this Crumlin chuckled mirthlessly.

  “That’s very kind of you, sir. It’d be an honor to work with the Sky Guard.”

  It must have been nerves, but I almost giggled in the dark. Maybe my chances of promotion were greater if I did ship out with pirates. I was assuming there might be more frequent opportunities aboard ship, what with crew members getting shot or thrown in jail. Surely Szpirglas could use an extra sailmaker.

  I lay on my back, cradled by the creaking hammock. In the darkness I could feel Szpirglas’s eyes boring into my shoulder blades. I didn’t like being parted from Kate. I wasn’t even sure where her cabin was. I’d visited the latrines earlier and tried to get a sense of the village’s layout; I imagined that Szpirglas’s hut would be one of the nicer-looking ones, but one bamboo hut looked much like another to me. How typical of Kate de Vries to get the private cabin. I hoped she was nice and comfy and feeling grateful she didn’t have to smell Crumlin’s boozy breath and whiffy socks. Probably she wasn’t at all frightened. What could be more exhilarating than a pirate capture? It was something right out of one of her books.

  Crumlin was already snoring, the great yak. Below me, Szpirglas was silent, but to me it sounded like the silence someone makes when they are pretending to be asleep. There’s just something too still and rigid about it. My heart clattered so loudly I was worried it was making my hammock swing. I tried to smooth my breathing. I thought of the Aurora. I pictured the rubber hosing shuttling the hydrium from the cave and shushing it through the forest toward the ship. I imagined its whispered hiss as it filled the gas cells. I saw the gas cell slowly swelling and the Aurora growing firmer and stronger. And the hissing sound got louder and louder and my thoughts streamed off up into the air and stars and—