by Tim Marquitz
Shiri was not reassured. “Mark my words,” he said darkly. “We will rue this day.”
“What have you been reading?” Jai asked in exasperation. The Karamed merchants sold story sheets, often with horrific tales, and Jai would have been tempted to ban them. Except then she would have to sneak them aboard for her own reading, and the Escarpment’s cabins did not provide many hiding places that were not generally accessible.
Shiri’s expression, outlined by the fading sunlight and the ilene-powered lamp on the corner of the steering cabin, was grim, and a little fearful. “That much metal is an ancient thing, a leftover.”
Jai nodded. Shiri was often anxious. He was from a species who lived on the edges of things. No longer sealings, but not quite land-dwelling groundlings, they often seemed uneasily perched on the fringes of the archipelago societies. They were not known for their adventures, and not known for anything at all except staying where they were put and following in their ancestors’ footsteps. It had taken Shiri a great deal of courage to move away from that and to seek employment on a wind-ship. And it must be hard to be brave all the time, no matter how much he wanted to. She pointed out, “The flying island we were just on is an ancient leftover.”
“But we know what that’s for.” Shiri rolled his shoulders, a gesture of discomfort. “The ruins, the foundations, we know what those are. Metal is different.”
There were ruins made of metal, too, but Jai took his point. She nudged his shoulder. “We’ll be careful. And it may be too big even for us to move so it will stay where it is.”
Shiri said darkly, “We can hope.” He stalked off to the steering cabin. A few moments later Kiev emerged.
“What did you do to him?” Jai asked as Kiev came to stand by the rail.
“It’s not me,” Kiev protested. “He’s upset about our last trip, that he couldn’t help with the cargo load. He told me he’s dead weight to us.”
Jai groaned, part sympathy and part exasperation. “And did you tell him that was ridiculous?” She had not chosen any of her crew for their utility. She had spent the early part of her life living with people she disliked intensely and, in some ways, hated. She had never wanted to do that again, and had chosen her crew solely because she enjoyed their company. Kiev and Latal had come with her from the mountains, and Shiri, she had found here among the islands and had hired him simply because she liked him. When Shiri and Kiev had formed their relationship, she had taken it as proof of the rightness of her choice.
“Yes, but…” Kiev shrugged helplessly. “He has melancholy.”
“He will get over the melancholy when he sees the money,” Jai said, but she knew her words weren’t true. Melancholy was not easily left behind. It was Shiri’s battle to fight, and all they could do was stand beside him.
It was a five-day trip, out toward the further reaches of the sea, where there were no major ports, no large sealing kingdoms, and only a few small inhabited outposts. And most of those made by species too strange to converse with, who would not be in the business of selling supplies to wind-ships.
So, when the sixth day dawned and Jai saw the water trees rising in the distance, she swore in relief. The trees towered above the surface of the sea, the tallest several hundreds paces high. The trunks were as narrow as the piers supporting a water dock, and their limbs were long and languid, dripping with ferny leaves. The base of each stood in a small island of dirt and flotsam that had gotten caught among the cage of its giant root system. They formed a wide band and stretched across the sea like a small mountain range.
According to what Jai had heard, the trees lived off some source of fresh water that lay under the shallow sea bottom, and not the salt-water they appeared to sit in. However they did it, it was good to see them. It was evidence that the map and directions were correct, which should mean the metal would be where Vreshian said it was, as well.
“Steer along the edge?” Kiev asked.
“Yes.” She checked the map again. “He said it wasn’t far.” He had also said they would be able to see the metal from outside the stand of trees.
By the time the sun crossed into afternoon, they sighted what had to be their goal. Jai had had her eyes stuck to the distance glasses until she felt as though they were welded to her face. It was a relief for many reasons to see the glint of light on metal between the ferny branches. “I see it!” she called, her voice hoarse with lack of use. Shiri and Latal and Kiev scrambled out of the cabin and ran to stand beside her on the bow.
They drew closer and Jai could make out more detail. The metal was a structure, not a pile of broken pieces, which would make it easier to rig for towing. But it was nearly the height of the smaller water trees, at least seventy paces tall. Jai’s heart sunk into her boots.
“We can’t haul that,” Kiev said, his voice flat and disappointed. Jai knew he had been looking forward to the challenge.
Jai used the distance glasses again, hoping they would tell her something different from what her unaided eyes said. She couldn’t tell what sort of structure it was meant to be, or had been. It looked as if it had fallen into the water trees at some distant point in the past, or perhaps the water trees had grown up around it. There were old stories of flying islands that had fallen due to magical wars among the inhabitants, but she saw no remains of an island below the metal, no huge boulders or broken shards of rock, unless it all lay below the roots of the trees now. She lowered the glasses, taping her nails on the wooden case. “This is a puzzle.”
“If by puzzle, you mean disaster—” Kiev began.
Latal said, “We should at least examine it. It might be very light, like that metal they make in the Risars, that you can bend into shapes with your hands. Or it may come apart easily so we can make multiple trips.”
Kiev began, “Those are completely—”
“Possibilities, if remote ones,” Jai finished. “We’ll examine it.” Kiev sighed and stomped away toward the steering cabin. Jai said to Shiri, “He’s catching that pessimism from you.”
Shiri didn’t respond to the bait. He frowned at the metal structure. “It looks like a weapon.”
“It does not,” Jai said and stamped away.
It was tricky navigating, bringing the Escarpment in among the water trees, but Kiev managed it, with Jai, Shiri, and Latal hanging off the railings shouting often conflicting directions. Gradually, the hull was lowered among the ferny branches, much to the dismay of the tiny colorful tree crabs and water beetles living in the leaves. The Escrapment came to a stop just above the top of the metal structure.
As Latal sorted the boarding harness and the ropes, Kiev readied the ilene-powered winch. Jai leaned over the railing, finding herself looking down at a triangular box structure half the size of the Escarpment attached to a broader superstructure. Much of it was coated by mold and stains, but the rest was a dull bronze color. Her harness fastened and attached to the safety rope, Latal said, “Should I go down and see if I can tell how heavy it is?”
Jai studied what she could see of the structure and the trees nearby. They were too high up for water-predators, and the tree branches weren’t strong or heavy enough to support much of anything. “Go ahead. Be careful.”
Latal swung over the railing and climbed down her line until she reached the top of the triangular box. There was a bang and a curse from the steering cabin, and Jai twitched but ignored it, keeping her gaze on Latal.
And that was a good thing, because she saw the exact spot on the metal surface which opened beneath Latal’s feet. Latal fell into darkness and vanished. The surface closed again and snapped the harness rope.
Jai yelled, “Kiev!” hooked her harness onto the rail clip and flung herself over. She lowered herself to within a pace of the surface, studying it. This close, she could see the seam in the metal, concealed by years of mold and grime. It was a door.
She felt the rope vibrate as Kiev and Shiri ran to the railing. Kiev shouted, “Where is she? What happened?”
&nbs
p; Jai reached down and touched the door lightly, then pressed more of her weight on it. With a faint creak, it slid open. “That happened,” she said. She leaned down to yell, “Latal! Are you there?”
“Yes, here!” Latal’s voice came back to her, breathless but not sounding hurt. “Jai—” A clank and the sound of something falling interrupted, then Latal finished, “This is a ship!”
“It’s a what?” Shiri said from above.
“A ship?” The door started to slide closed again and Jai slapped at it to keep it open. She looked up. “I need a wedge, wait, no, a ballast bag.”
After a moment of scramble on the deck, a ballast bag was lowered and Jai got it smushed into the corner of the opening, where the door encountered it every time it tried to close. Then she lowered herself down.
Inside, it was dark, except for dim light below. There was machinery everywhere, mostly large gears and wheels and twisty metal tubes. Just once, Jai had been down into the water-driven mechanism that supplied the heat and helped mine the ilene for Keres-gedin, the Turning City, guarding a mountain pass on its great revolving platform. She didn’t know what any of this was, but she knew it was something similar, some large machine.
Her feet touched a metal ramp and she climbed down it toward the light and the clanking. Obviously, this cabin or chamber was meant to be upright and was now resting at an acute angle. She ducked under a large ridged tube and saw Latal untangling herself from a broken metal frame in front of a large triangle of glass or crystal that allowed a view outside. The crystal pointed down and near a tree trunk so it hadn’t been visible from their approach. Mold had crept up the edges but it was still mostly clear. “Well, this is an interesting turn,” Jai said, and took Latal’s arm, supporting her weight so she could free her legs from the frame.
“I think this is a steering cabin,” Latal said, too occupied by her find to worry about the bruises on her face and a bloody nose. “Look at that.”
Jai looked. It stood next to the crystal window, a frame attached to both the ceiling and floor, with foot pedals and levers to be controlled by the hands. It was meant for a person probably half Jai’s size.
“They were small,” Latal said, “The people who built this. Small hands, small feet. Like Shiri’s people.”
Jai nodded. “But is it a wind-ship or a water sailer?” If it was a wind-ship, it was the biggest one Jai had ever seen or heard of. This was either something very old, so old no legend of its existence had survived, or it had traveled to the Ataran sea from some very far place, which would be far easier for a wind-ship. There were no remains of any dead bodies, or supplies of any sort, at least in this part of it.
From this angle, Jai could see an opening in the floor, with a twisted metal ladder extending down inside. She stepped carefully over to it and sat on her heels to peer down inside. There was no window and the space was dark. Latal awkwardly climbed over a tube, fishing in the utility pack on her belt, and handed Jai a block of ilene tuned for light. Jai aimed it down into the space.
It lit up a large chamber with what looked like support pillars on either side. Built into the far wall was a set of cubbies, each lined with the rotted remnants of what might have been padding or bedding. It was so old there was no longer even a smell of must. “Living quarters?” Jai said. There were no possessions strewn about, and no bones or other remnants. The crew must have been able to leave in good order, even if they had never been able to retrieve their craft. Again, if those cubbies were meant as beds or lounging spots, they were just large enough to comfortably accommodate people Shiri’s size.
Latal nudged her shoulder. “They disconnected those. To keep it from working.” She pointed toward a set of smaller tubes across the back of the space. They had been neatly detached in the middle, the set stretching from above, dangling beside the set extending through the floor. Her expression rapt, Latal took the light and angled it, tracing the tubes’ path upward. “Yes, those are connected through here. They must not have wanted anyone to find it and use it.”
Latal was as mechanically inclined as Kiev and Jai had never shared their passion. Jai said, “I’m going to get Shiri, he needs to see this.”
Jai left Latal examining the tubes and climbed back up her line to the hatch. Shiri still leaned over the rail, but Kiev must have returned to the steering cabin. “Shiri, come down here and look at—”
A shadow fell over them and, above Shiri’s head, Jai found herself staring up at a dark shape rising above the Escarpment. She had an impression of legs, large furred legs, at least six of them, claws at the ends clamping around the water tree branches. An elongated body, several eyes, and a fang-filled maw loomed over her ship.
She bellowed, “Kiev, Kiev, go, get out of here! Shiri, cut the forward anchor!”
Shiri looked up and shrieked with horror, fell down, then scrambled up and ran to the bow. Jai scrambled out of the hatch and dove for the line anchoring the stern to the water tree. Forcing herself out of the cover of the hatch and into the predator’s view was hard; her limbs were leaden with fear. Like Shiri, she wanted to shriek and fall but without the ship they were all dead so saving the ship had to come first.
She fought through the fern branches, her boots slipping on the damp moldy metal underfoot, and found where the cable was clamped to the trunk. She grabbed the clamp release and pulled, and it snapped free. She struggled out of the branches again and saw the Escarpment’s stern swing past overhead. Kiev leaned out of the steering cabin and shouted, “I’ll pull you up—”
The predator drew back a little, startled by the ship’s movement, then bent another water tree aside to force its body closer. It made a noise like wind through metal tubes, as if sniffing for the live prey it sensed nearby. “No, just go!” Jai yelled back. She heard clanking below as Latal tried to climb through the metal ship’s cabin but she wouldn’t reach the hatch in time and Jai couldn’t leave her. She felt the tug on her harness as her line caught on something, then it jerked her across the metal surface. Swearing, she clawed at the clip, but it wouldn’t release.
She looked up just as the forward anchor line came free and her eyes met Shiri’s. He saw she was still clipped to the line, that it was about to drag her off the surface of the metal wind-ship. Shiri flung himself toward the winch where the lines were fastened. But his abrupt movement drew the predator’s attention.
A tendril whipped down for him but he tripped on the uneven deck and went sprawling, and it overshot him. Jai yelled, “Shiri, above you!” It came out as an incomprehensible squawk, but the tendril had hit the deck a few paces in front of Shiri’s face. He scrambled back in horror.
Another jerk on Jai’s line reminded her that she was still attached to the Escarpment. And she had an idea. The tendril drew back, aiming for Shiri again, and she shouted, “Shiri, jump to me!”
That wasn’t coherent either, but Shiri obeyed automatically. He stood and vaulted over the rail. Jai dove for him, caught him around the waist and flung herself and him into the hatch of the metal ship’s cabin. The ballast bag dislodged and the door slid shut, and snapped Jai’s line in two.
They tumbled painfully into broken metal. Jai jammed her legs sideways against a junction of tubes and managed to stop their fall. Below them, Latal gasped, “What—? What—?”
“Predator, big predator,” Jai managed and let go of Shiri.
He clung to a girder, shaking. “What is this place?”
Jai climbed down past Latal to the crystal window. She leaned down against it, angling her head, trying to see the Escarpment and the predator, but all she saw was tree.
Latal answered Shiri, “It’s like a steering cabin, for this ship.”
The cabin shuddered and swayed as the predator outside must have pushed on it. Jai bumped her head on the window and cursed. “There has to be a way to lift this cabin. They didn’t fly by looking at the ground!” Maybe they had. How did she know? But she felt so helpless.
Latal said, “Whatever power made
it work is dead. I tried pulling some levers and we saw they disconnected the—”
“It’s not dead,” Shiri objected. “If it was, that door wouldn’t still open and close.”
Jai and Latal turned to look at him, then at each other. Latal said, “Well, yes.”
Jai dragged herself off the window. “But if it’s driven by something like ilene, there could be different sources.” Like the way the Escarpment’s winch was powered by one block, their engine another, and their lights by much smaller quantities.
Shiri climbed off the tubes, staring at the frame with the hand and foot controls. “That’s my size,” he said as if shocked.
“That’s what we thought. Jai was going to show you before—” Latal pointed upward to where the predator was presumably eating Kiev and the Escarpment even now. Jai grimaced in despair.
Eyes wide, Shiri caught hold of the frame, toed off his sandals, and slid his feet onto the pedals. He took one hand control, then the other. He leaned forward and the thing that Jai had thought just random curves of metal became a rest for the chin and forehead. The frame swung a little, but he seemed to balance easily in it. “It’s like it was made for someone like me.”
“That’s what we thought, too,” Jai said, “But there—” is no time for it, we need to think, she meant to finish.
But all over the cabin, things clanked and spun and air hissed through the tubes. Shiri jerked his head back in surprise, and Jai slammed into a tube as the whole cabin jerked in imitation of…
Imitation. Shiri had just made the ship move.
“Stop!” Jai flung out a hand toward Shiri. “Don’t move!”
“What happened?” Shiri gasped. “Did the predator grab us?”