He left it at that.
As the Stygian rose above the blue haze, the atmosphere around me weighed heavy with the smell of ozone, and I shivered in the dampness. A low rumble shook my insides as we ascended. Not prepared for the sight, I gasped when we slipped through the wispy bonds of mist to reveal a riotous landscape of various crafts, suspended bridges, and hovering walkways. The sun shone on the bustling port. Brighter than I ever remembered seeing, the warmth of its rays took me by surprise. A decade since the quakes and the dome shielded me from it, memories of lying on the warm grass as a child hit me. But this revelation paled against the strange scene before me.
Floating planks zig-zagged between listing vessels. Their pilots and crew hoisted supplies and crates on creaking booms. East and west, north and south, thundering blades atop four massive towers cut powerfully through the air anchoring the port. The whole city hung like necklace chains from tower to tower. Large buildings lined the edges of a floating marketplace in the center.
Each building roof held rotating propellers and lighter-than-air ballasts buoyed the underside of the larger buildings. Slips for airships and supply blimps splayed outward from the line of buildings suspended in the air by bulbous silver balloons. The list and sway of everything sent a wave of nausea through my middle.
My hand went to Ashton’s elbow, closing around his arm in trepidation. Realizing my misstep, I tried to release him, but his fingers slid over mine holding them in place.
“It’s all right, Charlie,” he whispered. “I think that name suits you better, you know.”
“My father agrees,” I countered, deliberately bringing him up to quell the guilt over stealing back the journal.
Ashton’s jaw hardened, but he let the comment go.
Below us, women and children dressed in leather and flowing cloaks hurried between the slips and along the paths to the storefronts. Ladies in kimonos and men in the rustic breeches of plantations bustled together without regard to color or class.
Despite my anger and worry for my father, the sprawling, suspended town took my breath away. I took in everything. “This is…” my comment faded as a small skiff overflowing with fruit and vegetables sidled past. The occupant stoked the small flame under the air balloon holding it aloft. A cauldron bubbled atop a makeshift burner at the far end of the small craft.
“Fresh stew for the morning meal,” the man called. He pressed a button on the side of his goggles and tiny wipers cleared away the steam gathered on the lenses. “Best price in the port.”
“Thank you, no,” Ashton answered as the breakfast boat passed. He slipped my father’s cloak over my shoulders and nodded to Lizzie at the helm who cast a worried look in our direction.
“Where’s Lizzie going?” I swallowed against the rising anxiety. “Will she come back?”
“Nothing to worry about.” Ashton undid the button on his coat, pulling back the side to rest behind the weapon at his hip. He held my gaze, his eyes reflecting the brilliant sunlight. “Welcome, Charlie, to Outer City.”
9
Tension and keen awareness crackled through me as I walked with Ashton along the suspension bridges. We made our way through the throngs of vendors, my fascination growing.
Alongside the path, men in stained aprons stood atop balloon skiffs and behind booths lining the pathways calling out their wares. Beggar children swarmed around those disembarking airships and zeppelins scurrying for tossed sweets and the odd coin. Overhead, vast steam-driven rotors atop towers flanked the port. They whirled with deep vibrations and stirred the warming breeze above.
I glanced at the planks below our feet, worn and faded with the sun, they provided a view of the empty expanse through their gaps. That I tread so precariously above the clouds made my breath catch. The suspension bridge swung, throwing me off balance, and I gripped the frayed rope railings.
Everything seemed to tip and tilt in the draft of the tower rotors. I let my gaze travel up the giant buildings and realized they resembled light houses. The entire port reminded me of seaside villages of old with the scents of cooking meats and pungent tea drifting on the wind.
“I did not realize when you said Port Rodale, that you meant an actual port,” I muttered. “I had no idea what to expect, but this is…”
“Similar to the mining towns in the golden west.” Ashton nodded. “Well, before The Great Calamity plunged those lands into the depths of the sea, anyway.”
“Yes.” I glanced around. The buildings looked parceled together with whatever materials were available. A hodge-podge city strung together with desperation and reckless hope. “But how…”
“The quakes, the overwhelming amount of bodies on the ground and in the sea,” Ashton took in a breath and I wondered if he’d seen those things with his own eyes. He would have been so young. “People had to do something to escape the poisonous vapors and not everyone had a place in the city. Professor Kane’s military experiments with lighter-than-air craft, though laughed at before the destruction, ultimately saved lives.”
I took in the patches on the blimp sails, the hastily tied together zeppelin riggings and realized that many crafts were constructed of discarded items, surplus, or more likely, stolen military materials.
“Yes, it all happened so quickly,” I whispered, remembering the panic on the streets below the hospital. People had scrambled to outrun molten rock as it burned down avenues. I remember my father’s worried expression from behind the glass of his gasmask as I sat next to him after my mother died and we left the safety of higher ground. It never occurred to me as a child that I was privileged. My home huddled under the protection of the Tesla Dome’s grid, but all those others lived in terror and danger. I recalled the desperate fear on Moira’s face when Lord Rothfair threatened to expel her from the city. “How has the plight of all these people never crossed my mind?”
“Why would it?” Ashton said, leading me around a pile of crates. “Our society does its best to turn a blind eye, to see only what it wants.”
“So those cast out or unable to find refuge under the dome, they did this?” It seemed so precarious, this existence, to bobble about at the mercy of the elements. “I understand the wasteland are noxious, but…why up?”
“When the fissures ruined the seas and churned the ocean floors with poison vapor, they had no choice but to ascend.” Ashton said. “With the waters unlivable, the life within them dying, they took their chances in the sky.”
I thought of the tales of explorers I’d read about in books; intrepid souls who forged out to the American West despite the danger. I took in a deep breath, smiling at the strange, crisp feel to it. Here I was, little Charlie Blackburn, so far from the parlors and ballrooms below.
The floating market in the center of the city teemed with every kind of craft, from small zeppelins crammed with passengers to lone hot air balloons. A vast blimp sailed past bearing a carriage tied beneath, the wheels repositioned as rear rotors directed it through the crowd. There seemed to be no limit to the type of craft one could turn into an airship.
The sky swarmed with movement. Bright blimps, colorful air sails, and filled balloons sidled past one another as people bellowed to one another from ship to ship. They tossed parcels back and forth, the packages sailing over our heads as we walked the gangway.
I marveled at the variety of plants growing in various casks and crates. Makeshift gardens grew on every available surface. They dangled from roofs, off of airship sterns, even below a personal blimp. A woman reached down from her passenger basket with a watering can sprinkling the leaves as she floated by. Vegetables and berries I’d not seen for over a decade grew bountiful and succulent up here, and though I saw with my own eyes, I had trouble believing.
Passing a group of privateer crewmen, their conversation halted as we neared.
Ashton’s hand went to the holster at his side. “Why don’t you walk on the other side, Charlie?”
“Is there a problem?” I asked, glancing at the men.<
br />
They leered with beady eyes following our path.
A knot of fear twisted through my middle.
“Not yet.” He eased me to his left side. I grasped at his arm and he set his hand over my fingers with a reassuring pat. “Just ignore them.”
I jutted my chin out, trying to appear unfazed as my thoughts whirred. Even if all of this somehow fell away, even if I managed to reach my father and not get killed up here…a young lady traveling with a man, unaccompanied by a chaperone, would surely raise questions. Though those social rules were not followed in Outer City, I was sure to suffer rumors back home. My poor Aunt Sadie would be beside herself. Yet I knew I did not fit in here either. Though I’d let my hair hang free in an attempt to mimic the fashion of the other women, I realized despite that and my clothes, I still seemed to stand out.
“Where are we going, exactly?” I asked.
“I need to get to an aethergraph to touch base with The Order. They may know something about your father.”
“But I saw one on the Stygian.”
“I require one with certain specifications,” Ashton said. “One that does not make a duplicate for the sender. Those rolls can be reorganized to discover the message.”
“Like old typewriter ribbon?”
“Exactly like that,” Ashton said and raised a brow. “Very good, Miss Blackburn.”
“We’ve passed several inns,” I said, trying to brush off my delight at having impressed him, if only a little. “Do they possess such a machine?”
“Those establishments offer rooms with…hasty turnover.” Ashton said. “There is a better choice further on.”
“Should we not stay closer to the port? What of Lizzie?” How would I ever get off this floating village if I became lost? I slowed, forcing Ashton to do the same. “I’ve agreed to follow you, but not blindly.”
“I told you, I intend to secure a room in which to hide—”
“Why so far from the market?” I took a breath, smoothed my skirts, and looked up at him with forced calm. “I want to know exactly where you are taking me or…or you’ll have to bodily move me.”
His eyes narrowed. “I thought you agreed.”
I folded my arms, waiting. If I intended to escape the moment he left me in whatever decrepit hotel he chose, then I at least hoped it would be as close to the passenger ships as possible. I could not let him lead me further. “Where are you taking me? I demand to know.”
“Lower your voice,” Ashton urged and nodded to a nearby food hut. He propelled me with his palm at my side. We entered, and I followed him to an empty space at the walk-up counter. Irritation crossed his features. “We don’t have time for this.”
“I don’t want to be put away like some doll on a shelf while you run about with my father’s journal.” My voice rose as I spoke.
Ashton stepped closer, his face a hair’s breadth from mine. “Charlie, stop.” He looked around, pausing on the faces of those glancing at us before continuing in a hushed voice. “What are you doing?”
“My father didn’t trust The Order nor shall I. He told me to get to Collodin.”
“And just what do you intend to do?” Though he whispered his words in my ear they were unmistakably edged with steel. “You have no connections up here and the entirety of the Union Security Force searching for you down there.”
“I will figure it out and I do not need you to do it.” I rose only to have him pull me back with his arm around my waist. “Let go.”
“Sit down, Charlie.” He deposited me on a nearby stool, his lips in a tight line.
“Do that again and I will scream,” I said, though my heart hammered against my ribs.
“You will bring down every manner of bounty hunter on us,” Ashton said but took a step back, his expression softening. “I know you want to save your father, but some things are more important than family.”
“Nothing is more important than family!” I stared at him, dumbfounded. “How can you say that?”
“One life for many, Charlie,” Ashton whispered. “A worthy sacrifice. Your father knew that. Embraced it.”
“Well, I do not,” I said, my voice breaking. “I do not accept that at all.”
“You must.” Ashton took in a deep breath. “I mean to hide you to keep you safe because by now a large price is most likely on your head. You’ve seen the people up here. Tell me turning in a fugitive for a handsome purse and the favor of the government wouldn’t look attractive to them.”
Someone cleared their throat. The thatched roof and plank walls let in shards of light to the otherwise shadowed eatery. The low visibility cut both ways. And it occurred to me that although the dark provided a place to go unobserved, it kept those observing hidden as well. I shivered with the thought that someone might be watching me at this moment. I brushed a wave of hair from my eyes with shaking hands. “Fine,” I managed.
He relaxed a bit, relief registering.
I felt a twinge of guilt knowing he had no idea my father’s journal was in my possession.
“Down there, in the city, the Union Security Force keeps the peace. Or at least that is its purpose. Up here, there’s more of an uneasy truce between the privateers, others just passing through, and the local merchants and families that dwell here permanently. That truce is maintained by Lawmen. The leader of which I’d like to avoid.”
“Why?” I asked.
The cook wandered over. Rotund, sweaty, with a shirt long since gone gray with grime, he looked at us with rheumy blue eyes. His prosthetic arm squeaked at the elbow as he wiped down the counter and when the gears ground, locking it, he pounded it with his fist before turning back to Ashton. “What’ll it be?”
“A clementine.” Ashton pushed a silver coin across the bar. “Not hard.”
“One clementine, no alcohol.” The man grunted through his moustache and reached below the counter, pushing a bottle at us before turning toward another customer.
“I’m not thirsty.” I stared at Ashton trying to reign in my worry.
“It will look strange for us to not purchase anything here.”
I looked at the drink doubtfully.
Ashton gave a reassuring smile. Once again, I saw his youth through the burden he carried.
“What is it?” I rubbed my finger along the condensation.
“It’s juice…from an orange,” he said and tapped the glass, sending dozens of tiny bubbles floating to the surface. “Try it.”
“Oranges…they grow up here?” I took a sip. Thicker and brighter colored, the sweet juice tasted better than any of the watery offerings down below. Though expensive and only available to those with means, everything under the dim of the dome seemed to pale in comparison. “I saw the hanging vegetable gardens outside, but I thought fruit trees only survived in the greenhouse factories inside the cities.”
“Down there in the major cities, their domes keep out the contaminants that cloud the atmosphere, so yes, the resulting muted light is insufficient to grow crops, but up here, with the unfiltered sunlight, well, produce is what keeps this port aloft. Quite literally. The rotors propelling it run on coal bought with food trade.”
“That and contraband from the odd blockade runner, no doubt. I saw silk and spices for sale up here. Tell me those ‘privateers’ don’t still manage to trade with Europe and the east?”
“Those foolhardy enough to brave the skies or oceans, yes.” Ashton looked over his shoulder and then nodded at my glass. “Enough questions. Drink.”
I sipped my drink, thinking. “Why do you wish to avoid the Lawmen? Do you think their leader would hand me over to the security soldiers?”
“Not exactly, no, but Sebastian Riley hates the Governors. If he handed you over, it would be to line his coffers with reward rather than civic duty.”
“Then why…”
“Just believe,” Ashton said and moved us further into the shadows of the corner space, “that the sooner we get away from the port entrance, the better.”
“I saw a few Lawmen out there by the loading booms. Long, brown leather coats,” I pointed to my head, “large, brimmed hats?”
“Yes, that’s them.”
“Why do we need to avoid them if you say this Sebastian Riley won’t necessarily care that I am up here?”
“Riley and I had a falling out a few weeks ago.”
“Over what?”
“It doesn’t matter at the moment.” Ashton nodded to my drink. “Finish so we can be on our way.”
I weighed my next step. He tapped on the counter restlessly, his gaze roving the room. “Mr. Wells, if this person you intend to ask for help deciphering my father’s journal does not have answers…what then?”
“I will hand your father’s book over to The Order.” Ashton glanced at me, and I willed him not to check his utility bag.
“You will not even consider helping me find Collodin?” If he figured out it was missing I did not know what he would do to get it back. I stilled my hand before it went to my bodice to feel for the book. “Even though it is what my father wanted? There must be a reason he did not reveal what he knew to your man.”
“That is not—”
“You said my father embraced everything your Order stands for, yet he actively avoided meeting with anyone from your ranks,” I said, cutting across him, desperation emboldening me. “Why would he do that? He must believe there was risk in trusting them. Even Lizzie said The Order was rife with unrest. Help me get to Collodin, Ash, please.”
“Charlie…” he shook his head, gaze downcast. “I must proceed as ordered. I know you want your father back, but that is not my mission.” He will do what is right no matter the cost.
“Right,” I muttered, my throat aching with disappointment. “I understand.”
“I don’t think you do.” He placed his hand on mine, but I slipped it away.
It was clear now that I must get away. Ashton might check his utility bag at any moment and find the book missing. With no choice but to act now, I steeled my nerves, forcing an even tone to my voice. “Is there a ladies’ withdrawing room?”
“There is an outhouse, or you can wait until we reach a hotel. The nicer ones have withdrawing rooms.”
The Tremblers Page 9