Halcyon (The Complete Trilogy)

by Joseph Robert Lewis

  Salvator frowned. “That would not be ideal, for us.”

  “Sorry, but that’s the deal.” Taziri stood as tall as she could and tried to look as cruelly apathetic as she could. She hated the idea of abandoning anyone, for any reason, but now that she was out of the Corps, she was on her own. And Aegyptus was very, very far from home and help. “I can’t let the Eranians take this engine, for obvious scientific reasons. And I can’t let them detain me, for the same reasons. And other personal reasons, of course.”

  The Italian nodded grimly. “Agreed. If not for your sake, then for the sake of keeping new technologies out of their hands for as long as possible.”

  Taziri rolled her eyes. “Thank you so much.” She took one last look at Qhora and her feathered companion, and then she sat down in the pilot’s seat for her last few preflight checks. Minutes later, the Halcyon was clacking down the westward track out of Carthage. When they were clear of the city, she pulled the big lever and the machine was once again transformed from locomotive to aeroplane and they clawed their way high into the midmorning sky. Taziri brought them around in a wide arc to point eastward along the northern coast of Ifrica, and pushed the throttle forward.

  I hope this is a very brief detour.

  The flight from Carthage to Alexandria was only slightly longer than the flight from Tingis, but she had only gotten a brief reprieve from the pilot’s seat at the rail yard. One hour? One and a half? How long can I go until I absolutely need to sleep? Even after we land, will it be safe for me to sleep at all?

  Taziri tried to wiggle her toes and stretch her legs, and roll her shoulders and massage her neck while flying the plane, but the flight stick, throttle, and control pedals all required constant attention so there was no real escape from the droning stress of the task at hand. Fortunately, she had plenty of food and water stashed in the small compartments and cubbies and nets all around her and she could buy herself a few moments of distraction by eating dried fruit and spiced nuts, and drinking lukewarm tea splashed with mint.

  Eventually, she told her passengers about the food stashed under their seats as well.

  Hours passed. The sun drifted effortlessly across the sky, shifting from slightly ahead of them to slight behind, and then directly behind as the afternoon grew later. Taziri kept one eye on the ground below, always keeping the Halcyon directly on the coast with the continent on her right and the Middle Sea shining on her left. But even if luck wasn’t with her, the weather certainly was. It was a bright clear day with only a few white, puffy clouds and there was no danger of a storm or fog to throw them off course or otherwise threaten their journey.

  After six hundred miles, Taziri frowned.

  Over halfway now. This is it. I’m committed to the plan. Not enough fuel to get back to Carthage even if I wanted to. Damn, this is stupid. We didn’t need the money this badly. It was only a few months’ income…

  From time to time, they passed over a tiny village or a small town on the coast, and each time Taziri consulted her maps and fuel gauge, checking to see whether the Trans-Eranian Railway entered the town itself. But each time the rails ran past to the south and she was reassured that they had not yet found Alexandria.

  It was very late in the afternoon when she saw the railroad tracks sweep in closer to the coast and a dark blot appeared on the ground, studded with fiery lights. The city sprawled more than five miles along the edge of the Middle Sea, and another mile inland. The harbor was divided by a long hammer-head peninsula, and just east of that and to the right a circular lake marked the southern edge of the city. Huge stone towers glowed red in the light of the setting sun, and huge windmills turned slowly in the sea breeze. Hundreds of ships, from tiny fishing dories to sleek xebecs to massive ironclad steamers drew bright wake trails through the harbors.

  Here we are. Taziri grimaced. Alexandria.

  She circled about once to line up with what seemed to be a less important-looking railroad track on the west side of the city and she landed the Halcyon with a sharp clang and shudder using the guide clamp. With the wings folded up, she was confident that no one would think the machine was anything other than a locomotive, but she had no idea what sorts of flying machines were common in the Empire and no idea how curious the locals might be. She kept up their speed as they clacked along the rails past farms and houses, past shops and temples, past warehouses and factories, and didn’t stop until they had passed straight through a small train station and rolled into a wide, shadowy rail yard where a dozen old freight cars and one ancient steam engine sat in dusty silence.

  Taziri shut everything down quickly and then locked down the engine’s starter, the fuel cap, the folding wings, and the propeller. Even if they capture this thing, she thought grimly, they won’t be able to do anything with it.

  Finally, she unstrapped herself from her seat and turned to watch her passengers stand and stretch and mutter to each other. “Dona Qhora,” she said, “I should tell you that you will not find the people here, that is, the men here, as chivalrous as those in España. There are two kinds of men in Eran. Those who have been well-educated in all things, and those who have been educated only in one thing. Ego. The former will ignore you. But the latter may treat you poorly for being a foreigner, and for not upholding their faith, and most of all just for being a woman.”

  The Incan lady stood up, imperious in her military jacket with her hulking eagle on her arm. “What would you suggest then?”

  Taziri frowned and glanced at the Italian. “Stay close to Salvator. As long as people think you are with him, they will probably ignore you.”

  Qhora’s face betrayed no emotion. “I’ll do whatever needs doing. Thank you for your services thus far, captain. We will return as soon as we can so we may all leave this place.”

  Taziri nodded and watched the two women climb out the hatch and step down to the ground.

  Salvator Fabris was still in his seat. He smiled. “Don’t worry, captain. I can promise you that this time, all of your passengers will be returning home as planned.”

  Taziri rested her hand on the white-handled revolver on her hip. “See that they do. Call it an all-or-nothing proposition, Mister Fabris. If you don’t bring them back, I won’t bring you back. And be quick about it. Sooner or later, someone is going to notice the Halcyon, and I only have so many bullets.”

  The Italian stood and sighed. “Yes, captain, just remember to look before you shoot. It would be a terrible pity if you were to kill the wrong person out there. I for one would be quite distraught if you killed me. Good evening, captain. Sleep well.”

  He gave her a strange look, one bordering between amusement and deadly hatred, and he stepped out the hatch.

  Taziri climbed out to watch her three passengers striding across the rail yard until they disappeared around the corner of the station. Already it was too dark to see anything very clearly, though the stars were beginning to poke out here and there beyond the thin gray clouds. She ducked back inside for a moment and then climbed out with an old folded tarp under her arm and threw it over the back half of the Halcyon, and then tossed a few stones and fistfuls of dust and dirt on top of it. She had parked her machine at the end of the yard, under the overhang of a roof and behind a row of freight cars to shield her from casual observers at the train station.

  Still.

  She checked that her revolver was loaded, and she checked her spare ammunition, and then she rolled up her left sleeve. The medical brace gleamed darkly beneath the stars. She pressed the release button and the top panel sprung up with a quiet twang and hiss to reveal the custom revolver mounted in the hollow space where her muscle used to be, before the fire ravaged her flesh. The trigger mechanism swung out sharply, placing the trigger in her left palm. She loaded the gun and then pushed it back down into place. The brace clicked shut and she rolled her sleeve down.

  With nothing left to do, she locked the hatch and lay down on the floor of the cabin with another old tarp as a bedroll and pillow. It w
as still very early in the evening, but after flying straight through the prior night and then again all afternoon, her eyes and back and shoulders were all crying for a few hours’ peace.

  She gave herself a few minutes to worry over whether or not she would see Menna again soon, and then fell asleep.

  Bang.

  Bang-bang.

  Taziri sat up clutching her gun. She could hear muffled voices outside. Male voices. Heavy footsteps on the gravel.

  Two, maybe three men.

  Instantly her heart was pounding in her throat.

  How did they find me so fast? They must have watched me land, or saw me roll into the station. Damn it! This was stupid, stupid, stupid!

  A silent snarl bared her teeth as she drew her gun and crept to the hatch and peeked out through the armored glass.

  There were three young men standing beside the Halcyon. They were talking with their backs mostly toward the machine. Taziri squinted, trying to see better in the shadowy gloom.

  The youths laughed, then did a strange little dance or mock fight, and one of them was hurled stumbling against the Halcyon.

  Bang.

  Taziri exhaled.

  They’re just kids. Just stupid kids, out being stupid. They’re not here for me. They don’t even see me. Hell, they probably wouldn’t care if they did see me.

  A few minutes later, a fourth young man appeared with a bag and the foursome all sat down in a little circle. Taziri watched them drink from what was clearly an Italian wine bottle and play at something that looked like dice.

  For an hour, she crouched by the window and watched. Finally, they tossed the empty bottle against the wall in front of the Halcyon.

  Crash.

  And then they sauntered away, shoes crunching on the gravel, talking quietly and laughing loudly. When they were gone, Taziri laid back down on her old tarp and stared up at the ceiling of the cabin for a long time.

  A very long time.

  This is going to be a long night.

  Eventually, she fell asleep again.

  Chapter 7. Shifrah

  “They spoiled me,” she said as she stared out over the water.

  “How so?” Aker stood next to her, leaning over the rail. The steamer was still churning steadily across the Middle Sea, just barely within sight of land, which had been a dark line on the southern horizon all day but now was visible only by the lights of the towns along the coast.

  Shifrah smiled. “In Marrakesh, everything is fast, and I mean everything. You can get anything to eat at any time of day. The shops sell every sort of clothing and tools and toys from every country in this half of the world, and probably a few from the other half, too. The trains and airships run every day, inside the country at least. And the telegraphs. Have you ever sent a telegram, Aker?”

  He shook his head.

  “It’s a strange sort of power. It’s not like watching someone die, but it is…intoxicating, all the same. Being able to say anything to anyone, anywhere. Reaching out across hundreds of miles in an instant.” Shifrah smiled and shook her head. “You can get used to that sort of thing. I did. I had contacts all over the country, people I never needed to visit, or even meet. I could gather information or arrange jobs just by visiting the telegraph office, and then spend the rest of the day at the shops. I even have a bank account.”

  Aker laughed.

  Shifrah smirked. “Yeah, I know. Most of my money is stashed, but just a little is in the bank. They pay you to put it there, you know.”

  “Do they really?” Aker gazed out over the water. “And now you have to give up all the magic and glamour of your heavenly life to come home, back to reality.”

  Shifrah’s smiled faded and she sighed. “It looks that way.”

  “Pity. I didn’t mean to ruin your setup. But these things have a way of happening.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  “Which brings us to your little elephant.” He looked sharply at her.

  “Who, Kenan?” She glanced at him. “He might be a problem. He might not. He’s hard to read, really. When I met him, he was in uniform. But that didn’t last long. He plays by some funny rules, but he does play. I think if we just manage him the right way, Kenan could be more of an asset than a liability.”

  “You like him.”

  “Of course. But I like watching him even more.” A hint of a smile played on her lips. “There’s something just a little bit ingenious about him, just a little bit insane, when he’s really pushed. When he’s angry or desperate, that’s when the real Kenan comes out. And he is something to see.”

  “And the rest of the time?”

  She shrugged. “The rest of the time, he’s just a man. Like you, actually. He watches his money like a hawk, he complains, he wants to be left alone, he wants attention, and he wants sex.”

  “He’s a lawman.”

  “He’s a patriot. There’s a difference.”

  “Not from where I’m standing.” Aker straightened up. “We’ll be in Alexandria soon. I’ll take you around and re-introduce you to the people in charge. Things have changed a bit in the last few years.”

  “I want to see Omar. Or look for him, I mean. Ask around, see what people know. He might still be out there somewhere.”

  “Yes, and Atlantia might still be above sea level, but I wouldn’t bet on it.” Aker paced away. “But I’ll take you around, just the same. I am curious to see who’s been sending you your jobs lately.”

  “Any ideas?”

  “Just one.” And he left.

  Shifrah waited until he was gone before she followed him back to the hatch and climbed below to find Kenan. The scowling Mazigh detective was waiting for her in her bunk, stretched out with his hands behind his head. “Are you seriously considering killing me?”

  Shifrah paused in the open doorway, then stepped inside and shut the door. “Not seriously. But it is on the table. It’s all up to you now. Why? Should I kill you? After all we’ve been through? I’d rather not.”

  She sat down beside him and looked down at his face. He wasn’t quite grown yet, still showing traces of softness around the eyes and jaw, though his nearly perpetual frowning had done much to age him. He didn’t sleep enough, which shadowed his eyes, and he didn’t eat enough, which kept him lean even though he never exercised. She had tried several times to get him to run and spar with her, but he said it reminded him too much of the army, and what was the point of training with a knife when he had a gun?

  “I thought all of this was behind you,” he said. “I thought we were building something. New lives, new work.”

  She shook her head. “No. It was a new life for you. Same one for me.”

  “And this Omar person is the one who got you into it? What happened? Did he find you on the street, saw some potential, and trained you up as his pet killer?” Kenan didn’t look at her. His tired gaze drifted across the ceiling.

  “Hardly. I started knife fighting when I was fourteen. First kill at sixteen. First contract at seventeen. And all long before I met Omar.”

  “And none of that bothers you?”

  She could feel the smug condescension radiating from his whole body. They’d been down this road before many times, in one fashion or another. “Did you think I was some poor starving waif living on the street and stealing my bread? Or maybe I was selling my body to fat drunken slobs?” She shook her head. “I’ve never stolen anything in my life. And no one has ever touched me without my permission. I kill for a living, and I kill because I’m good at it. I don’t create the work, I just take the jobs, and there was no shortage of jobs in Marrakesh, I might add. Husbands who wanted their abusive wives killed. Wives who wanted their cheating husbands killed. Business partners. Gang members.”

  “So it’s just business to you. You don’t feel anything?”

  She glared at him and smacked him on the forehead. “Did you know that there are special accountants in Marrakesh whose whole job is to guess how many people will be killed in this f
actory or on that railroad?”

  “Sure. They’re called actuaries.”

  “Right. Because your precious modern businesswomen all know that their factories are going to kill people. Guaranteed. But since it’s cheaper to pay off the victims’ families than make the factories safer, they don’t. They let the workers die for no reason, year in and year out. And most of them die horribly mangled, screaming, while their friends watch them in agony, unable to save them.” She pulled out one of her Italian stilettos and held the blade over his eyes. “But every person I kill dies on purpose, for a reason. Maybe they’re good reasons, maybe they aren’t, but never by accident. And never in agony. Always quick, in the back, sliding in between the ribs, straight into the heart. No suffering, no fear. Just a moment of surprise and it’s over.”

  Kenan pushed the knife away from his face with one finger. “It disappoints me that you think your way is better.”

  “And it disgusts me that you don’t.” Shifrah put away her stiletto and leaned away. “We’ll be in Alexandria soon.”

  “Then we need to get ready to leave.”

  “There’s no rush.”

  “Yes, there is.” Kenan sat up. “Don’t you find it just a little strange that we weren’t off that train in Carthage more than a minute before Don Lorenzo’s wife was swinging a knife at me? Haven’t you been wondering how they got there ahead of us?”

  “No. She wanted revenge, but we got away. These things happen.”