The airship was in good shape overall, but it needed some fond attentions and rearranging to make it livable. There were rows of berths, each four bunks high, lining a few of the mid-deck cabins. Dailan had decided not to bed down there in the crew quarters. Instead, he claimed the wardroom attached to Emmi's cabin for his own. There was a built-in chest on the far bulkhead that opened and locked from the top, meant for hoarding loot. A table was bolted along the other bulkhead. The room was probably meant for storage, but it seemed like a rat's hole, and Dailan liked it. He swiped a thin mattress, pillow and blanket from the berths, setting up underneath the table where it was cozy. He draped another bed sheet over the table and let it hang down, to make a kind of privacy curtain.
On the second day, while Dailan had been rummaging around Westerfold's mechshop, he found some whirly wheels on platforms. He had fixed the casters to the bottom of Emmi's big travel trunk with some of the tools and screws. An old lever handle was attached to the side so as Dailan could pull it behind him through the underground tunnels. He used it to make supply runs to Chalice every day. They stocked the larder with what he brought back. They raised barrels of water and rice up to the deck with the pulley loader, then rolled them to the galley larder. The ship was already well-stocked with cannon shot and fernopowder, so they didn't have to spend the hours and back-break of loading it themselves. By the time they were done stocking and cleaning, the ship was a regular fortress of the skies.
The decks were sopped and mopped, the dust was licked and the ship might as well have been painted with lumanere. Dailan could almost see it shine, even though it was made of wood. They couldn't have been prouder if they had built her with their own four hands. When they had done all they could think to do (except for taking down the rickety scaffolding around the hull), they stood back a ways, crossed their arms and beamed like proud parents admiring a new baby.
“Speaking of new baby...” Dailan said aloud.
“A baby? Who was talking about a new baby?” Emmi glanced askew like he was picking cuckoo-nuts.
Dailan slapped his head and laughed at himself. “Sorry. I was thinking with my tongue. What I meant was, since she's like our baby, we need to give her a name.”
“Right! Do you have any ideas?”
Dailan shrugged. He'd never really named anything before. Naming meant keeping, and he'd never had a thing to keep in his life. “You're the Captain.”
Emmi got real serious for a while. She sat down and started munching on an apple. After a time, she wiped the drippings from her chin. “For as long as I can remember, I dreamed about sailing away on the S.S.S. Emerald Bounty, pirating on the open seas and evading the royal navy. Living on the edge of adventure. I wanted that life more than anything. Now I know it was all just a fantasy. There is no S.S.S. Emerald Bounty. No ready-made adventure and no pirate crew waiting for me. If I want a life of freedom, I have to go out there and design it for myself. I think maybe Professor Westerfold—my father—I think maybe he meant her for me. Not at first, but maybe his legacy is meant to help me build mine. Bahnli wanted me to find my father here. I don't think this is the conclusion she had in mind, but it's the one that fits. If there is no Emerald Bounty sailing out there, I'll just have to remedy that.”
“The Emerald Bounty,” Dailan mused, like it was the first time he'd ever heard it.
“She can't be an S.S.S. class, though. We need to come up with a new classification, since she'll be pounding the clouds instead of the waves.”
“With the cannons and all, it's pretty clear she was meant to be a warship,” Dailan said. “Maybe she can be an Air Combat Ship. A.C.S.?”
It was settled without argument. Emmi climbed the scaffolding with a can of green paint. Her feet dangled over the board as she scripted the characters for A.C.S. Emerald Bounty on the hull.
Dailan's chest swelled with pride and he must have walked puffed up like a rooster for the rest of the day. The thought that they were just playing, and that the ship was really a glorified clubhouse, wormed up under his skin and brought his head from the clouds for a while. Eventually he decided it didn't matter. There was no other person, collared or otherwise, in the whole of the isles that had claim on a true and honest airship. It was the greatest treasure ever snatched, and he'd had a hand in it. Dailan's head went right back up in the clouds.
“What are we gonna do about a silver ax?” Dailan asked as Emmi hopped down from the scaffolding where she had been checking the last seams in the hull.
They had decided to fire up the engines that evening, just to see if they would light. They couldn't exactly take her to the skies, but if they could get her off the ground, even for a few minutes, Emmi might be able to feel the spirit of her father. She was probably just using Westerfold as an excuse, but it didn't matter if she was. They couldn't rightly claim to own an airship if the ship had never been in the air. It would just be for a few minutes, then they could set her down and know they were the first.
“I've been thinking about that,” Emmi said. “I can have one commissioned at the smithy, but it would take a while. We'll have to do without.”
“Do without? You chuckleheaded kakapo! We have to have a silver ax! It has to cut the anchor rope, and it has to hang in the Captain's cabin. Otherwise, it's bad luck. We'll be plagued with kaiyo swarms, drencher bursts, shipworms and who knows what!” Dailan insisted.
“That's just an old superstition,” Emmi scoffed.
Dailan scowled. He knew he put stock in some tales that might have been a bit taller than reality, but they had to come from somewhere. Wasn't it better to be safe and alive than sorry and croaked?
“Well, I am not setting sail on a ship without a silver ax,” Dailan said stubbornly.
Emmi's face twisted up. Dailan could tell she wasn't all that happy about a problem that wasn't a problem to her. “Fine. Wait here.”
After she disappeared down the gangplank, Dailan climbed down the rungs to the engine wells and set to work. They had been sitting for a long time without tending, so there were a few matters of upkeep. The whirly-oars needed oiling. Some of the tubes needed checking over to make sure they were snug on their inputs. A few of the cogs needed tuning. Otherwise, they looked pretty good.
Dailan had only seen engines once before, at the mechanology convention he had picked. There had been a lot of table displays there with miniature vessels and engines that ran on steam and other things. Those were a lot smaller than the airship's versions, but they mostly worked the same way. Dailan had probably spent more time gawking at the models than picking pockets that day. Some of the displays were cutaway diagrams explaining the innards. Somehow, it all made sense to Dailan. He couldn't have built one on his own from scratch, but with seeing the explanations and hearing the mechanologists doing their demonstrations, it all worked itself out in Dailan's mind. Westerfold's books, blueprints and shipwright papers lying about were a big help. Dailan took every chance he got to study up on them, to get a feel for the workings and mechanology of their new vessel. He kept them all rolled and stacked together in the trunk in his room, which Emmi said was fine by her, on account of her not having a lick of a clue about mechanology. She said that was Dailan's job, and she would yield to him in matters of mechtech. Dailan took his job real serious, making a fine looking-over of every moving inch. The Magister had claimed the airship was airworthy. After inspecting the engines all over, Dailan had to agree.
Emmi called to him as he was doing his last checks. He climbed back to the deck and thumped down the gangplank to see what she was about.
“I got a silver ax!” she said.
It was silver. And it was an ax. Dailan took the shiny handle suspiciously. He could see right away what she had done.
“It's paint.”
“Be careful—the blade is still tacky,” Emmi cautioned.
“But...”
“It's a silver ax, isn't it? Nobody said it had to be made of silver, did they? Besides, th
is one is functional. If we ever need to chop our way out of something, this one can actually be used, where a real silver one would be too soft. Sometimes you have to make your own luck. I'd rather have a tool I can use than a decoration I can look at.”
Dailan couldn't deny that kind of logic. “I guess it'll do.”
Emmi beamed at her own brains. “Shall we commence the ceremony?”
They made a grand parade of the ax, holding it out like it was propped on a cushioned pillow of silk. When they got to the hull, they said a few words of pomp, to give the ship a real good send-off.
“I dub thee A.C.S. Emerald Bounty,” Emmi said. She cocked her head. “There's no anchor rope to cut.”
“There's the scaffold,” Dailan suggested.
“That'll do.” Emmi took aim at a rickety leg and let off a good whack at it. The joint above shuddered, but it didn't collapse. They traded out turns until the leg was chopped clean through. Part of the scaffold bent sideways and leaned away from the hull. It was good enough.
They boarded and hung the silver ax where it belonged, then made their way to the bridge.
“Fire up the engines, First Mate,” Emmi commanded.
“Aye-aye, Captain,” Dailan saluted smartly.
He looked over the control panels at the helm and found the right switches. With a gulp and a prayer, Dailan flicked them, working the knobs to the proper positions. He pushed the final lever and the deck began to rumble beneath their feet. “Engines alight!”
They gripped each other in the pure excitement that wouldn't stay battened. They couldn't help laughing and bouncing in place.
“It's really happening!” Emmi squealed, throwing her head back. “Professor Westerfold! Our dreams are coming true for the both of us!”
Dailan realized quickly that he had a job to do. He squashed the jollies and focused on the controls. The engines were lit and functional, and the next step was a hover. He directed the engines to a downward shift and the floor began to fall out from under their view over the rails. The hanger walls looked like they were sinking off the bow, which could only mean that the ship was rising.
“Retract the anchor legs,” Emmi commanded.
Dailan obeyed with a flick of the switch. They could feel another distinct rumble that was higher in pitch than the engine. When it stopped, he knew the six legs had been fully tucked into their holes and the hatches had closed. Dailan directed the ship to ease upward steadily. He worked the knob to level about midway up the cavern, as Emmi shot to the starboard rail to look down.
“Dailan! Come see! We're flying!”
“Hovering, really. Flying's when you're going somewhere.”
Confidant that the airship was steady, Dailan bounded to her side. They were so high! A good four stories off the ground, at least. It was darker than it was down below, the Inferno channels not being bright enough to reach so high up the cavern. There were plenty of lumanere veins in the walls, glowing with a dim light.
“I wonder how maneuverable she is?” Emmi went over to the big wheel and put her weight into turning it. The flappy sail rudder angled and the airship started to come about.
Dailan shoved her aside. “Let me take a turn!”
They traded off back and forth, turning the ship, raising and lowering her, making her do all the things they could make her do in the limited amount of space the hangar had. It felt like they were two kids playing with an over-sized toy. Dailan had never had a toy before, so this wasn't too bad for a first.
Above them, Dailan could see a rift and rails in the ceiling that weren't visible from the ground. It looked special crafted, like it was made for opening up. “I wonder how high we can get,” he thought aloud.
Emmi looked up and the grin of a thrill-seeking adventurer plastered all over her face. “Let's find out.”
They ran back to the helm and Dailan pulled the handles for gaining altitude. They began to rise again. He kept his eyes up to make sure they didn't get too close to the ceiling. Suddenly, a strange whirring rattled the air, tickling Dailan's eardrums.
“What in Blazers is that sound?” Emmi asked. She didn't sound panicked, but she was definitely worried.
“I dunno, but it's not coming from the ship,” Dailan said. All the teller-bobbers looked fine, and the engines were still purring like kaiyo bellies.
They both looked up at the same time, and they both gasped at the same time, too. The ceiling rift above them was sliding open on its own accord, like someone had flicked a switch on its engine.
“What's happening? Does someone know we're here?”
“No, I think there's a trip-trigger on it. See that box yonder?” Dailan pointed to the track where the giant ceiling doors were sliding. There were contraptions connected to them that reminded Dailan of Ward boxes that would activate if someone breached their perimeter. “I think we rang the doorbell.”
They both stared up through the open hangar door. The sky was dark, waxed with moonglow. Emmi looked hungry for it. She wanted to taste that early summer breeze and feel the moonkiss on her cheeks. Dailan did, too.
“What now, Capper Em?”
She ignored the new nickname, or maybe she didn't even hear it, for all the heart-thump beating in her ears. “Well, the door's already open. We can't hide it. We're in the middle of the city somewhere, and I'm sure we just woke someone up who's bound to come looking at any minute. Let's take her out. If we don't, someone will find the hangar and we'll lose her forever. Since it's dark, not as many people will see her.”
“We're gonna be in a heap of trouble.”
“I think that ship has sailed,” Emmi gulped. “We're already up to our eyeballs. We might as well go all in.”
“Alright. Let's spread her wings,” Dailan said.
They crashed their wrists together boldly. Dailan eased the ship through the gap and they came up into open air. It was easy to tell where they were the minute they hit skyline. The twin white towers of the university were off about half a league or so to the northeast. Right below them was the Westside Thinking Pool, a huge lakey fountain that had a little flat-topped hill in the middle. The underground cavern hangar was below the fountain, which explained why nobody had ever found it before. The water hadn't spilled into the cavern because of the angles that directed it down the slopes, even as the doors on top of the plateau-like feature slid open. Once they had cleared it, the doors closed on their own, and you couldn't even tell they had ever parted to begin with.
Dailan scanned the ground. It didn't look like anyone had been jostled from their beds. Nobody was on the streets. Maybe the silver ax was already doing its lucky work.
“You know, the Magister and Guardian Scilio have been all wrapped up in their searching, and Grydon knows we're planning to be gone for a while. It's not like anyone would miss us...” Dailan said thoughtfully.
“It sounds like you have something in mind.”
“Rather than coming back to scolding, what if we came back heroes?”
Emmi perked at the notion. “How?”
“I heard the Magister tell Guardian Scilio that we can't send messages to Hili right now, on account of it's too dangerous and they could be intercepted, what with all the eyes a'lookin' for His Majesty. The trans-island message scrollboard network is being monitored, even for codes. Kir and Ulivall and everyone should have long since been in Hili by now, and Kir probably has the answers about His Majesty from the Master Prophet. So that means they'll be having to come to Havenlen to find us. But that's gonna take forever, and they don't even know where we are. Why don't we go fetch them?”
“All the way to Hili?” Emmi gasped at the idea.
“Well, if you're scared...”
“I'm no such thing! Turn us hard astarboard and make way at best speed. Let's go escort the Princess!” That notion seemed to smack Emmi the minute she said it. “The... the Princess?” She looked down at her traveling tunic, pocket vest, half trousers and ankle boots. �
�I'm not dressed for meeting royalty, and I didn't pack anything nice. She's going to think me a gutter rat!”
Dailan laughed. “Don't worry. She likes gutter rats.”
He wasn't all that sure about the technical terms or what to call the things he was doing on the panels, but the words didn't really matter so long as what he did worked. He flicked the right switches and turned the right knobs until their heading was south on the big floating mapboard. The thrust lever inched forward in Dailan's hand and the airship burst into an explosive lunge.
“Now we're flying,” Dailan said smartly.
They almost smacked into a few of the taller structures. The controls were finicky and prone to protestation. The ride was rickety. Dailan wondered if that could be fixed. She wasn't smooth sailing, but she was airworthy anyway. Since they hadn't crashed yet, Dailan took to feeling bolder. He coaxed her higher as they cleared the outskirts of the city. The moons were so big, it almost looked like they filled half the sky in Dailan's eyes. He wondered if someday a mechanologist would ever be able to conjure up an airship that could fly all the way to them like the ancients were said to do.
“Just wait, Emmi! You're gonna get to meet my best friend Bertrand. And Kir—I think she'll really take a shine to you. Malacar is His Majesty's other Guardian. He's a real likable sort, even though he's on the quiet side. He's got a soft spot for nippers. General Ulivall is our clan patron, real fine fellow, even tempered and all. And there's all my brothers. Lyndal, and Borloh, and Amari, and Avalir, and... Well, I'll just have to tell you about all of them, so when you meet them you'll know them.” Dailan had never had his own clan until recent, and he couldn't shake the giddies at the prospect of showing his family off. He hoped Emmi and Bertrand would get along fine because it would be good for both of them to have more friends.
Bardian's Redemption_Book Four of the Guardian's Vambrace Page 52