“Oh.” Her face fell. She took their dishes and left. “Smart. If people do figure us out we should say we’re headed back to the Otherworld.” Steven lowered his voice.
“I can’t shake the feeling we’re missing something … it doesn’t make sense. Out of all the things she could have me do this seems … ludicrous—especially if she wanted it to lead to my death.” A quest couldn’t be designed to end in certain death, but plenty of people accidently perished while questing.
“
She
doesn’t make sense.” James lowered his voice, his words bordering on treason. “I have to say, sometimes I wonder if Noli’s right … ”
Of course, if Queen Tiana was insane she’d have to be a mad genius, since everything she did was so cold and calculating despite her pre-occupation with amusements. She wasn’t a very good queen—the mishaps with the sacrifices only two of many small instances compounding the matter. Instances no one would mention if they valued their life. Still, even if no one would say it out loud, Tiana wasn’t a fraction of the queen her sister had been.
“Well, we should return to the Otherworld before we’re missed.” James said this loudly as Steven left some coins on the table.
“Yes, we should,” Steven mumbled. He wasn’t very good at play-acting. Anything was better than mentioning their actual unspoken destination, the Grand Central Air Terminal. They’d stay far away from Jeff’s airship. It wasn’t as if he could explain everything to Jeff, and well, as much as it pained him to admit it, unless they had swords Jeff probably
could
kick the stuffing out of him.
“I can take you boys as far as Chicago,” a grizzled man with a medium-sized commercial passenger ship told them. “From Chicago you can get to North Carolina much easier than from here. We leave in the morning. I can’t offer you money, but you can have a place to sleep and three meals a day in exchange for being our kitchen boys.”
“We appreciate that, Captain,” Steven replied. It was the lowest position to be had on a ship like this, but it should only take a couple of days to get to Chicago.
The captain held out his chubby hand. “It’s a deal then. Welcome aboard.”
“Get out of here.” A burly man picked up Kevighn by the scruff of his coat and unceremoniously tossed him out of the opium den into the early morning light. The air whooshed out of his chest as he hit the cold pavement.
Kevighn had forgotten why they threw him out in the cold. Perhaps it was because he was out of money. Gambling hadn’t been as good as he’d hoped. He brushed himself off and skulked back toward the Saint Louis Air Terminal. A new day brought new ships. If there were no positions to be had here, perhaps he could work his way toward a larger city. Chicago and New York were both good options. Los Angeles and San Francisco were also ideas, but those cities made him think of Magnolia. Denver and Atlanta were gateways to smaller stations which could also suffice.
He stumbled into a seedy bar in the cargo terminal— the perfect place to find employment. Even though he had no coin and it was dawn, he ordered a mug of ale. That was what everyone else drank.
“Looking for anything else, sailor?” The human serving woman had seen
much
better days, age lining her face, breasts sagging in her low-cut blouse.
“I’m looking for employment. I’m a fair gunner and have some experience in fieldwork. If not a job, then passage to someplace where I might find one.” He downed the bitter beverage, trying not to make a face.
Fieldwork
was air pirate slang for obtaining a take and protecting it while it was delivered to the customer. Did he even have his pistol in his rucksack?
The server, realizing he wasn’t looking for companionship, left. A short while later, a young, spindly man with an eye patch sat down across from him.
“Hear yer looking for a job, stranger.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “I know of a few ships looking for crew, but none of them are in port here.”
Kevighn looked at the unnamed man and took a drink as if to say
then why are you here?
“I can offer a lift to Chicago if you assist me and my crew by guarding some cargo we aim to take on here.” The man cocked his head. “You pull a fast one and you’ll be tossed over the side of the ship.”
“Fair enough. If you’re sure there’s work in Chicago.” Air pirates had rules–simple rules, but rules nevertheless. Here a man was true to his word until proven otherwise, which generally resulted in said man being tossed off the side of an airship midflight.
The man shrugged. “Can’t promise, of course. Depends on who’s in port. But in Chicago I’ll give you the names of the ships I heard are looking for crew—especially gunners. It’s easy to lose good gunners to the Pineapple Rebellion.”
“That war is
still
going on?” Kevighn took an absent sip of bad ale. Last time he’d been trolling the skies, Hawaii had been also battling for their freedom. The United States had decided to annex the country, but luckily for the island nation, a group of air pirates helped the Hawaiians out, birthing the Pineapple Rebellion.
“Hawaii did win a couple years back. But the U.S. keeps nipping at their borders since the natives kicked us off their land.” He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. “Guess the powers that be hope this second attack will force them to become part of America. The islanders keep a well-stocked air force and treat their gunners well. It might be a big hunk of dirt, but I hear it’s a pretty hunk of dirt with some even prettier women.”
Kevighn raised his glass in a mock toast. “To pretty women.”
The captain raised his. “Here, here. Name’s Red. Let’s discuss what I need from you.”
“Noli, Noli, are you awake?” Jeff whispered.
“Mmm,” Noli rolled over in her hammock. She didn’t open her eyes.
“I need your help. Please?”
Noli eyes cracked open as she turned toward the voice. “Wha?”
Jeff stood in the doorway of her little room, desperate etched on every inch of his face. “It’s my turn to cook. Only I think I broke breakfast.”
“Broke breakfast? You mean you burned it?” She stretched, trying to make sense of her brother’s words.
“Nooo. I didn’t burn it, but it’s not turning out right. Will you fix it? Please? If we have a nasty breakfast again they’ll toss my boots in the head.”
Her slippered feet touched down on the floor. “Let me dress and I’ll take a look and see how we can save breakfast.”
“Air pirates don’t wear ruffled nightdresses.” He flicked the ruffles on her collar.
Noli shoved him out the door. Recalling Vix’s teasing about her clothing, she donned one of the simple green gowns she’d brought back from the Otherworld. The design was feminine but it easy to move in and do things such as climb on the roof and build sewing machines.
Dressed, she rebraided her hair, slipped on her boots, and made her way upstairs. She yawned as she entered the kitchen area, or the
galley
as Jeff called it. More sleep sounded divine, but odds were Vix wasn’t one for lie-ins and the last thing she wanted was to garner more disapproval from the captain.
“Now, what exactly is wrong with breakfast?” Noli didn’t smell anything burning.
“How can oatmeal be lumpy and runny at the same time?” Jeff stood over the cast iron stove, stirring a giant copper pot with a long wooden spoon. A bucket of sand sat nearby.
Noli peered into the pot and frowned. Whatever he made, it wouldn’t be oatmeal unless they started over. Like at home, wasting food probably wasn’t an option. However …
She opened cabinets, taking stock of what they had. “Anything off limits?”
“Only if it has someone’s name on it.” Jeff leaned against the counter. “We stocked up in port, but go easy on what you use.”
“Of course.” She eyed the spices and selected a few with no one’s name was on them. Jeff probably didn’t realize how good she’d gotten at making meals using as little as possible. Flour, sugar, baking soda, and a bottle of oil took their place on the counter. A sad looking pouch of dried fruit—sound but hard as a rock—got emptied into a pot of boiling water on the other burner. She turned to Jeff. “I need a frying pan, a colander, and a mixing bowl–a colander is a pot with holes in it that you use to drain things.”
Jeff rummaged through an upper cabinet, then held up a strainer. “You mean this?”
“That’ll do.” She strained the oatmeal. One thing she didn’t see was an icebox or any place to keep food cold. “Do you have any eggs?”
He shook his head as he took a bowl and a frying pan out of another cabinet. “We don’t keep many perishables onboard; when we do we usually cook them up right away.”
Pouring the congealed lumps into a bowl she mixed in some flour, soda, spices, and a dash of sugar. A splash of water from the pot with the fruit in it helped smooth out the batter. The now soft fruit went in as well.
While the oil heated, she formed little cakes and tossed them into the sizzling pan. The fruit water continued to boil and she added sugar and vanilla to make a simple syrup. Someone has purchased good spices. Not what she expected from a group of air pirates.
“Oatmeal pancakes?” Jeff washed the dirty pot in a little sink next to the stove. Where did the water come from? Where did it drain?
“Beats whatever you made.” Noli flipped the cakes over with a fork so they’d cook evenly on both sides. The soda made them puff up slightly and hopefully lighten them into something edible. The thickening syrup bubbled and she stirred it so it wouldn’t burn.
Jeff made coffee and she finished breakfast, pouring the hot syrup into a little pitcher and placing the steaming cakes on a plate. She covered them with a clean dishcloth to keep them warm. The pitcher and cakes went on the table where Jeff had already stacked mismatched plates, forks, mugs, and napkins.
“I suppose you have no milk for the coffee?” Noli preferred tea and she definitely couldn’t choke coffee down without milk.
“I suppose you drink tea?” Vix stood in the doorway between the bridge and the galley, dressed in black trousers and a black shirt. That blue lock of hair still hung in her eyes.
Noli set the table properly. “Mostly, my mother never was one for coffee, even if it is fashionable.”
“There’s nothing wrong with tea.” Jeff rang a metal bell which hung on the wall, the loud clanging made Noli wince. “We have powdered milk; it’s not bad in coffee.” He took a bowl from one of the cupboards and set it on the uncovered table next to the sugar.
Thunderous footsteps followed as two large men bounded up the stairs. Both were the epitome of nefarious, from their wrinkled pocketed vests and trousers, to their tattooed biceps and scars, to their
very
large frames. One had an eye patch, scruffy brown hair and an equally scruffy beard, the other was darker than she’d ever seen before. “Asa, Thad, this is Noli,” Jeff introduced.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Asa.” The dark man had a British accent. Dark eyes gleamed nearly as much as his bald head. “Thad.” The man with the eye patch had a guttural voice. He jerked his head in greeting.
“Nice to meet you,” she squeaked, not sure what to do. She never was around men of much—especially giant men of dubious nature.
Vix took a seat at the head of the rectangular table. The man with the brown hair and eye patch looked at breakfast and nodded, taking a sip from a flask at his belt. “We hired a ship keeper? Finally, decent food and someone to darn my socks.”
“Noli, my
little sister
, is the new ship’s engineer, not a ship keeper. But she’s a better cook than I am.” Jeff put a protective arm around her waist.
“Oh, that’s too bad. I have a lot of socks that need to be darned.” Thad plopped down on a long bench at the table and poured himself a cup of coffee, emptying the golden contents of the flask into the steaming liquid.
Winky meandered up the stairs and into the galley, sniffing the air like a rabbit, striped hat askew, round wire glasses sliding down his nose. “Jeff made this?”
Noli laughed at his expression. “I may have helped.
Miss Noli,” Winky bobbed his head. “Now I don’t mean to generalize, however, you wouldn’t by chance be able to manage buttons, would you? I can’t see the holes to sew them back on the way I used to.”
“Maybe you could make a trade?” Jeff pulled out a chair for her and she sat down. “We all have chores we do every day around the ship from making breakfast to cleaning the head. Often we’ll swap. I reckon darning socks and sewing on buttons could be worth something don’t you?” He looked at the other men and grinned.
“I might be up for it.” She’d much rather darn socks than clean the head—which was another word for the necessary.
The captain helped herself to breakfast, then passed the plate on. Noli watched and noted that everyone waited for the captain to start eating before taking their first bite.
“Who’s flying the ship?” she asked Jeff as she stirred sugar and powdered milk into her coffee and took a tentative sip. They had
white
sugar.
“It’s on auto-pilot, but I keep an eye on it.” He stood, taking his plate with him.
Thad took a bite of oatcake and made happy noises. “Now this is not bad at all. Much better than anything Jeff makes.”
She added more sugar to her coffee and took another sip. Ah, much better.
“This is a very good breakfast,” Asa added, his manners slightly more refined than Thad’s. “We’ve got ourselves a new engineer. We still looking for a gunner? Denver might be a good place to find someone.”
Vix nodded. “Preferably someone with fieldwork experience. Noli won’t be leaving the ship much, and certainly her duties are confined to the engine room.”
The firmness to her voice gave Noli the feeling she meant more than the dangers of stealing or whatever they did.
“Noli’s my
little sister
, did I mention that?” Jeff stood in the doorway between the galley and the bridge, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowing.
“Little sister will be fine,” Asa boomed. “I have little sisters back in England. You’re about sixteen?”
Noli nodded, mouth full of oatcake.
“I wish we’d hire a ship keeper.” Thad licked syrup off his fingers.