City of Fire (City Trilogy (Mass Market))

by Yep, Laurence

  “Why does it smell like wet dog all of a sudden?” Leech wondered.

  “Actually, more like wet griffin,” Scirye teased.

  “I beg your pardon,” Kles said stiffly. “Griffins don’t smell like dogs, wet or dry.”

  Bayang fought the carpet as it tried to nose into the water. Thirty yards, twenty, ten, and then they were over the surf line where the spray rose, wetting their clothes in a fine drizzle.

  Having carried out its last duty, the carpet seemed to disintegrate into a cloud of fragments and thread, and they pitched forward onto the sand of a small beach.

  Koko sat up, spitting out sand. “Let’s take the bus back.”

  “After we’ve had a chat with that dragon,” Leech said, slipping the unattached loops from his ankles.

  “I was afraid you’d say that,” Koko groaned.

  Scirye

  Kles spat out a leaf of seaweed. “I’ve seen rocks make more graceful impacts,” he said to Bayang. “The clumsiest fledgling from my eyrie—!”

  “Now, Kles,” Scirye said as she brushed sand from her clothes, “I couldn’t have handled the carpet as well as she did.” She added in a voice that suddenly dripped with mock sweetness, “After all, she only said she knew how to fly a magical carpet, not land one.”

  Momentarily blinded by strands of seaweed that hung down from her head like a damp green wig, Bayang parted the strands and peered at the pair. “Without me, the only thing you could have done with that rug was use it for your naptime, little girl.” The last two words had the desired effect as both mistress and griffin bristled. “And let me point out that any landing you walk away from is a good one.”

  “Says you.” Koko wrung out his handkerchief. “I got to get me a new one of these if I’m going to travel any further with you.”

  “You can be as fussy as an old cat sometimes,” Leech said in exasperation. “Put up with it like the rest of us.” Then he pointed at Scirye, Kles, and Bayang. “And as for the three of you, remember that the dragon is our enemy, not one another.”

  Bayang grunted her embarrassed agreement and pivoted, flinging the seaweed from her head, and Scirye turned her back on the woman.

  While Kles rose into the air and shook sand from his fur and feathers, Scirye retrieved a piece of the carpet about two feet square. On it, she lay her remaining axe. “We’ll hide our weapons in here,” she said. The boys placed their axes on top of hers but the elderly woman threw her chain away.

  Scirye didn’t ask her why. As annoying as Bayang could be, the Pinkerton agent had a confident air that suggested she could handle anything—from flying a carpet to improvising a weapon from whatever was near or simply fighting with her hands. And she found herself envying Bayang, for Scirye knew she lacked the skills that justified Bayang’s arrogance.

  When Scirye rolled up the rug into a cylinder, she lifted it effortlessly and then took her hands away. The rolled-up carpet began to drift in the breeze until she stopped it with a palm. “I thought there’d still be some magic left in the fabric.” She put it under her arm, more to keep it from floating away than to support it. “It’s not any heavier than a pillow.”

  With Kles upon Scirye’s soggy shoulder, they slogged above the surf line through the sea wrack heaped upon the narrow, sandy beach and climbed the wooden stairs to a boardwalk that linked the piers. The planks shook as a bus rumbled past.

  As they walked along the boardwalk, Leech spotted a shirt that some worker had left on a bench.

  “Koko?” he asked quietly.

  Koko glanced around. “It’s clear.”

  Keeping his eyes ahead of him, Leech smoothly swept the garment from the bench. Then, folding up the clothing, he rolled it up and held it against his stomach.

  Scirye was scandalized. “Put that back,” she ordered.

  “Shut up,” Leech said. “I took it for you. You can’t walk around in that get-up.”

  Though Scirye herself had objected to the costume, she wasn’t about to allow this arrogant boy to tell her what to do. “I’ll wear what I like.”

  He grinned in that superior manner of his. “We want to be able to sneak up on the dragon before we attack. Don’t you think he’s bound to notice someone in an ancient Kushan costume?”

  Scirye bit her lip, annoyed that she had missed the obvious— and worse that it had been this boy who had pointed it out to her. That made her reluctant to give in. “But it wouldn’t be Tumarg.”

  “You got guts, or you couldn’t have killed that monster,” Leech conceded, and shook the sweatshirt at her, “but it’s going to take more than guts to beat that dragon. We’ve got to be smart, too.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Are you saying I’m stupid?”

  “Look, girlie,” Koko chimed in, “this isn’t like passing exams in your hoity-toity classroom. You’re in the School of Hard Knocks now. Flunk a test here and…” He drew the edge of his hand across his neck like a knife.

  Leech dangled the sweatshirt at her again. “Listen to us. It’s our turf.”

  Kles crooked a foreleg around Scirye’s head and pulled her head close to his beak. “We can always try to pay the owner later,” he advised her in a soft voice.

  “All right.” She finally stretched out a hand.

  As she took it from him, Koko shook his head. “With that prissy attitude of yours, you wouldn’t survive more than a day on the street, girlie.”

  “Lady Scirye usually doesn’t have to worry about things like this,” Kles countered. Fluttering into the air, he grabbed a sleeve in each hindpaw and helped his mistress tug it on over her head. When he had settled back there, he carefully brushed her hair back into place. “You look a frightful mess. Whatever will your mother say?”

  Scirye bit her lip guiltily. “I just hope she’s all right. I should call the Consulate and find out how she’s doing.”

  “I’m sure she’s getting the best of care,” Kles assured her.

  “She’ll just feel awful if she can’t be at my sister’s funeral,” Scirye said. The corners of her eyes stung as she realized she was going to miss it herself. It would be horrible if there were no family to say good-bye to Nishke.

  As the first tears appeared, Kles brushed them tenderly away from her cheeks. “Nishke would want you to get back the ring.”

  “I know,” Scirye mumbled, and then squared her shoulders. “So that’s what I’m going to do.”

  As they walked along, Leech looked at her sympathetically. “Everything was so crazy at the museum, I didn’t realize your mother had gotten hurt. Sorry to hear about that. It must be rough.”

  Scirye glanced at him suspiciously, wondering if he was being sarcastic since he seemed to dislike her so much. But his concern seemed genuine. “Thanks. I know you’d feel the same way if it was your mother.”

  He jammed his hands into his pockets. “Not a chance. I don’t remember her at all because I was just a baby when she left me at the orphanage.”

  “Oh,” Scirye said in a small voice.

  “Don’t feel sorry for me!” he shot back defensively. “Me and Koko do fine on our own.”

  “You don’t need to jump on me,” Scirye said, annoyed. “What do you expect someone to say when they hear what you just told me?”

  Koko sidled in between Scirye and Leech. “Sorry about my buddy.” Koko smiled apologetically. “He’s got a stiff neck, all right. But sometimes pride’s all we got.”

  Embarrassed, Leech scratched the back of his head. “Yeah. I guess I get carried away, but in the bunch we hang out with, you can’t seem weak or they’ll jump all over you.”

  Scirye said nothing. She’d been wrong about Leech. He wasn’t like the other students in her various schools. It wasn’t privilege that had made him arrogant but necessity. However, it didn’t make him any less obnoxious.

  After a quarter of a kilometer, they came to where the yachts were berthed, some big enough to be cruisers. They found the boat behind a locked wooden gate with a guard posted there.
<
br />   Bayang strode up to him officiously. “We have an urgent message for the yacht.”

  The guard squinted suspiciously. “That must be some important message if it takes four—?”

  “Five,” Kles corrected him.

  “It takes all four of you and a funny parrot to deliver it?” the guard said.

  “Parrot?” Kles asked, outraged, but he could say no more because Scirye had clamped her hand tightly around his beak, holding it shut.

  “Not now, Polly,” Scirye improvised. “You’ll get your cracker later.”

  “My mother couldn’t take care of my children.” Bayang shrugged.

  The guard regarded the slightly soggy boys and girl and then folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t blame her. I bet she’s escaped to Canada by now. Well, you wasted a trip. There’s nobody on board this ship. Mr. Roland and his party already caught the shuttle bus to the Honolulu airport terminal.”

  Bayang

  Bayang thanked the guard and ushered them back the way they had come. When they were out of earshot, she shook her head in self-reproach. “That was my mistake. We should have headed for the terminal.”

  “Well, that was a waste,” Koko complained. “First, you crashland us and then you take us on a wild-goose chase.”

  “Leave her alone,” Leech said. “We agreed with her, didn’t we?”

  “Why are you taking her side?” Koko asked, hurt.

  It was a small thing, but Bayang hadn’t expected her prey to defend her. Blast him! Why does he have to be so likeable?

  “Who’s this Roland guy anyway?” Koko asked.

  “One of the richest men in the world.” Bayang frowned. It was even worse news to hear that Badik was allied with such a powerful human. “He’s got a finger in everything, so chances are every day you use something his factories made, whether it’s the shirt you wear or the car you ride in or the meal you eat. It’s said he dines with the King of England one week and the Czar of Russia the next. His nickname is the Uncrowned Emperor.”

  “I saw him once in the palace in Bactra,” Kles said. Bactra was the ancient capital of the Kushan empire. “He was on his way to dine with the emperor. He must be behind the theft.”

  “But why risk an international incident to steal the ring?” Scirye wondered. “Is it magical, Kles?”

  The griffin shook his head. “Not that I know of, but the ring’s so ancient that people may have forgotten how to use its magic. Without the proper knowledge, a magical ring is just another band of stone. However, I doubt if there’s anything supernatural about the ring. It’s priceless because of its symbolism and the fame of its previous owners.”

  Badik, though, was only interested in power, not money, so he would never hire himself out as a mere thief, Bayang thought. “The ring has to be more than an antique. If it’s not magical, perhaps showing the ring to the right person will give Roland access to a special treasure.”

  “Oh, like a pawn ticket lets you claim something,” Koko said.

  “But whatever the purpose,” Bayang went on, “you can bet the ring is part of some major plot.”

  The hatchlings stopped walking, digesting that news uncomfortably, and Bayang thought how small and young and helpless they looked at that moment. Perhaps this would discourage them enough so that they would no longer get in her way.

  But then Scirye lifted her head. “We could talk all day and never figure out why Roland wants it. So why don’t we go ask him?” She added grimly, “Once we get back the ring.”

  Despite her determined words, the hatchling’s voice trembled slightly, and Bayang found herself admiring the little human’s courage, if not her sense.

  “It’s the only way.” Leech nodded.

  Koko tapped the side of his head as if trying to unclog his ear. “There must be something wrong with my hearing, because I just heard you saying you were willing to take on a dragon and one of the most powerful men in the world.”

  Leech grinned infectiously. “You were the one who said you were getting bored.” Grabbing Koko’s arm, he broke into a run. “Come on,” he urged, dragging his friend along.

  “This is not a game!” Bayang called in exasperation.

  Leech turned around, backpedaling as he answered Bayang. “I know, but we still might as well have fun.”

  Despite herself, Bayang found herself enjoying his spirit— Scirye’s, too, for she was racing alongside them, laughing as if they were on a holiday at the beach. These hatchlings made her feel young and carefree again in a way she had not felt since the days long ago before Badik had attacked her clan.

  After that terrible battle, her one thought had been to turn herself into a warrior capable of destroying Badik. In that single-minded pursuit, she had shed such notions as enjoying herself. Seeing the hatchlings now, though, she began to wonder if she had missed something.

  Her longer legs would have allowed her to catch up to them, and she almost gave in to the temptation. However, she caught herself just in time. What if Roland had spies out? So she stayed in disguise by hobbling along. She had been Bayang the Assassin too long to change now.

  Which meant that Leech would have to die sometime.

  Scirye

  Driven by a strong sense of urgency, Scirye and the others didn’t stop where travelers were gathering to wait with their luggage for the bus shuttle. Instead, they kept on going, almost jogging along the causeway and then northeast up a broad street called California Avenue.

  At the same time that Pan America had opened its terminal on Treasure Island, San Francisco had also staged a world’s fair there. Most of the fair’s structures had been constructed with cheap materials because they were only meant to be temporary, but the seaplane port’s buildings had been more permanent. The semicircular building on their immediate right had been the fair’s administration building but now served as a control tower and terminal. Farther up the road were two former exhibit halls whose graceful arches and tall windows made them resemble cathedrals, but which were now hangars.

  The rest of the fair’s exhibits and gardens were being replaced by other airport facilities and additional hangars. Clearly, business was booming at the seaplane port.

  Passengers were bustling in and out of the terminal, the walls of which curved like a giant smile, and they entered through the main doors into a high, spacious lobby. A huge aluminum mobile hung from the ceiling. A globe with the skeletal framework of the continents symbolized the earth. About it bobbed huge rings on which seaplanes had been soldered, suggesting the different flight paths of the airlines. More bold metal artwork adorned the upper part of the surrounding walls, while flowers and small trees served as ornaments to decorate the lower areas.

  The noise inside hit them with the force of a tidal wave. Hundreds of people were all chatting in dozens of tongues above the slapping sound of shoes, boots, and sandals on the marble floor. There were diplomats from the Dahomey kingdom, Azteca from the southern realms, Turkomans in fezzes and with mustaches large enough to damage an eye. Brushing shoulders with them were furry kobolds from the Russian steppes and airy ifrits from the Saharan deserts. All that was missing were penguins from Antarctica.

  Kles gazed at the different colorful costumes passing by. “This is just like back in Bactra. It almost makes me homesick.”

  Scirye, who barely remembered her life there, made a vague grunt.

  “Pan American Flight 54 to Honolulu will be leaving shortly,” a voice boomed from a loud speaker.

  Bayang scanned the people hurrying by. “I’ve seen Roland’s face in the newspapers and newsreels, but there’s just too many people.”

  “Couldn’t we page him?” Scirye offered.

  “He’d just send one of his underlings,” Bayang said.

  “Sometimes two nostrils are better than a pair of eyes,” Kles said. He turned his head in a slow circle, sampling the air until he straightened. “I’ve caught the thief’s scent.” Then he rubbed his beak with a forepaw, suddenly puzzled. He
sniffed again and his gaze fell on Bayang.

  “What’s wrong?” the woman asked. “Did you lose the trail?”

  Kles’s eyes narrowed suspiciously but all he said was, “No. The thief’s over there.” And he pointed a claw.

  “What if he’s already handed the ring to Roland?” Scirye asked.

  “Then we’ll see if the thief knows where his former employer is going,” Bayang said, “before we take care of him.”

  They followed Kles’s directions through the crowd to the huge Pan American counter where uniformed clerks were taking care of the passengers.

  “That’s Roland,” Bayang said in a low voice.

  Scirye had been expecting some slick-haired, pencil-mustached villain like in the movies. However, Bayang nodded to a tall, well-built man with long blond hair and delicate features—the kind who might have been seen conducting an orchestra.

  He was dressed in a cream velvet coat with wide lapels and white pants. In his hand was a straw panama hat. Scirye had been at enough diplomatic receptions to recognize simple but elegantly tailored clothes.

  There were a half dozen suited men and women with him, one of whom was handling the actual tickets.

  Kles pointed his beak toward a young man in the back. He might have looked handsome if he didn’t have such a sour expression on his face. “He’s the thief.”

  “Keep an eye on them,” Bayang murmured to the children, and then surveyed the terminal until she saw a uniformed airport policeman. A veteran would have slouched comfortably, but this one stood at ramrod attention. Hunching over again like an old woman, she walked toward him. As she drew closer, she saw how young he was— and also eager to prove himself.

  “Did you hear about the theft at the museum?” she asked.