City in the Sky (13 page)

“Is what true?” he asked mildly.

His grandmother pulled up a chair, hardly seeming to look. That wasn't surprising, as this had been her husband's office for decades and Erik hadn't got around to shifting the furniture yet.

“Are you leaving?” she asked bluntly.

“Ah, that,” Erik said quietly. “I'm planning on taking a tour on one of the trade ships – I'm told that it's expected of someone in my position.”

“It's expected of
septi
,” Arien replied. “Not
septons
. It's a foolish risk, Erik. And an unnecessary one.”

“Foolish?” Erik asked. “Maybe. Unnecessary? Not really. I killed Kels, grandmother. I make no distinctions about that, and people are holding it against me.”

“It will fade in time, Erik,” she replied. “The duel was legal, and everyone knows he challenged you.”

“I am a newcomer here,” he said, not bitter but coming close to it. He'd so hoped things would be different in Newport. “A newcomer and a half-blood. I am inevitably seen as a villain by those who knew him.”

“That
will
change, Erik,” Arien insisted. “They don't know you yet. Give them time.”

“That's the point of this, grandmother,” Erik objected. “To give them time. To give it time to fade from people's memories. Besides,” he shrugged, “it is one of the rites of passage of
septi
. I never knew I
was
septi
– not until I was
septon
– but this, at least, I can do to try and fit in among them.”

His grandmother shook her head. “The
septon
s are a bunch of cantankerous, inbred lunatics. You don't
need
to 'fit in' among them for Hydra's sake. They'll grow to accept you, no matter what. We've had
septon
s who were
professional
duelists, for Ice's sake!”

Erik shook his head. “I need to get away, grandmother,” he told her firmly. “Nothing really counts besides that.”

She sighed and looked at him. “You've made up your mind, haven't you?” she said quietly. “There was no changing your father's mind, either, once he'd made it up. It's why he ended up in Vidran with your mother.”

“I know,” Erik said, half-turning away from her.

“It's not a bad thing, grandson,” Arien told him. “Go, then, if you need to. But promise me one thing – no, two things.”

“What?” Erik asked.

“First, you'll talk to Harmon about this,” she said. “Not to try and convince you otherwise, just to get an idea of what you're walking into and to find out what you should bring.”

“Done,” he agreed. “I intended to speak to him anyway. The other?”

“Promise me, by Water and Air and your mother's Earth, that you will come back to me,” Arien asked. “I have buried a husband and a son, and learned of another son's death twenty years too late to bury him. I
don't
want to lose my grandson.”

Wordlessly, Erik crossed to her and wrapped the tiny old woman into his arms. “I promise,” he said softly. “By the Gods, by the Elements, by waves and sky and earth, I promise I will come back.”

The next day, the maid interrupted Erik poring over a list of things he'd want to take with him. He didn't know what ship he'd be sailing on yet – for that matter, he didn't even know how long the voyage would last – but he remembered the voyage to Newport from Vidran. That gave him some idea of what he'd need.

Of course, he had far more funds to pick things out with now, which meant that there were things on the list – for example, sky steel chain mail – that he would never have
dreamed
of as a mere smith from Vidran.

“Milord,” the maid said, breaking into her deliberations.

“Yes, Shel?” Erik asked, smiling gently at the girl. His height intimidated the household staff, but he'd been doing his best to win them over. He hadn't been entirely successful so far, but at least they'd stopped looking at him like he was about to eat them.

“Your
kep
Harmon
hept
Ikeras is here to see you, milord,” she told him.

Erik's smile broadened. “Thank you, Shel. Can you bring him up here?” he asked, gesturing at the papers on his desk. “I asked him to come, and he may have some thoughts on things I've missed.”

The girl curtsied, something he
still
hadn't grown used to being directed at him. “Yes, milord,” she said before vanishing out the door.

Clearly, Ikeras hadn't been waiting at the front door, as Erik was still smiling and shaking his head at the maid's antics when the older Aeradi stepped through the door, bearing a long package wrapped in cloth.

“Good morning, milord,” Ikeras said.

“Ikeras, sit down, and lose the milords,” Erik told him. “I'm growing to hate the formality.”

“Good,” the old wing-lancer replied, settling onto a spare chair across from Erik's desk, his package across his knees. “If I was worried about anything, it was that it would all go to your head.”

Erik's smile faded to a bleak expression. “The dark mutters about abominations and murderers would help deal with that worry, I think,” he said bitterly.

Ikeras shook his head. “Telling you not to let them bother you would be pointless,” he observed. “What you're doing is
probably
the next best thing, so I can't advise against it. How goes the planning?”

“All right,” Erik replied. “Mostly just an expansion of what you had me bring for the voyage here. Mainly, I just added a suit of armor, a shield and a bow, though I think I need a different style of sword for this.”

“You do,” Ikeras told him with a grin. “Which does bring to me why I'm here, besides your asking me to come, that is.” He offered Erik the cloth-wrapped package. “This is for you.”

Erik took it, eyeing the older Aeraid warily. He carefully unwrapped the package, exposing a sky steel sword that glittered in the sunlight streaming through the window.

He took the sword in his hand and shifted it. The balance was excellent – nearly perfect in fact, and he inhaled sharply. The shape was just
slightly
wrong for being a normal tachi. He twisted the sword over and saw the inscription he knew would be there.

“My father's sword,” he said quietly. “He gave this to you,” he objected, extending it back to Ikeras.

“And now I'm giving it to you,” Ikeras replied. “I don't really need a sky steel blade – not since I left the Lancers. Besides, the Lancers
did
issue me my own short-blade – carrying this was an affectation and a way of remembering an incredible man.” He reached out and wrapped Erik's fingers around the hilt and pressed the sword back on the younger man.

“There is no better memorial for Karn than his son wielding his sword,” Ikeras told him. “He would have wanted you to have it. As important, perhaps,
I
want you to have it.”

Erik said nothing, silently running his fingers down the flat of the blade. Then he looked up at Ikeras, and he knew that there were tears in the corners of his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “Thank you.”

“I think you're worthy of it,” the older man replied. “Prove me right.”

“I will,” Erik promised.

Three

The
Cloudrunner
was a standard Aeradi sky ship. She was a hundred yards long, with a maximum beam of about fifteen. In water, she displaced about a thousand tons and could sail at the better part of ten knots. In the air, she ran on three primary lift crystals and could fly at just over eleven knots. Four Dwarven built fire-cannon and two Aeradi crystal-bows were mounted on each broadside, providing a defense that would be ably assisted in real conflict by the sixty marines the trader carried.

In many respects she was identical to the hundreds of ships that sailed out of Newport or any other Sky City. Of course, none of the other ships had a
septon
aboard as a marine sergeant. However, as Erik had discovered, several ships had
septi
– the
sept
heirs – aboard in similar positions, and most carried
sept
of some standing. As Hiri had said, it was a tradition among the Aeradi.

In the week since he'd decided to leave Newport, Erik had managed to acquire a simple but extremely well-made set of light chain mail – made of sky steel, so its strength defied its looks –and an Aeradi bow to go with his father's sword.

The bow was an unusual weapon. Matched to the Aeradi height, it was only about four feet high, but it was made of a wood he'd never seen anywhere else – he'd been told it only grew on the sky cities – and had an incredible draw for its size. Practicing with it, he'd begun to understand why Aeradi archers were feared.

He wore the bow slung over his shoulder and the sword at his waist as he approached the ship, carrying a single bag containing as many sets of clothing as Erik figured he would need and the chain mail. He expected the sea to be hard on his clothes, so he’d brought simple, sturdy, garments. Both the bag and the cloak he wore over everything were the oilskins Ikeras had helped him pick out in Vidran, proof against anything short of outright immersion.

“Tarverro!” a voice called out from the ship, and Erik turned to find a dark-haired Aeraid, wearing much the same style of clothes as he was, only lacking the oilskins for now and wearing a simple silver star on his collar.

“That's me,” he confirmed. “And you would be Lieutenant Albiers, correct?”

Despite the junior sounding rank, the Lieutenant aboard an Aeradi trader was the commander of all of her marines, and second in authority only to the captain if it came to a fight, though he’d answer to the bosun as well the rest of the time.

Albiers nodded and extended a hand. “Joran Albiers, to be exact: Lieutenant of marines aboard the trader ship
Cloudrunner
. Welcome aboard, Sergeant Tarverro.”

Erik inclined his head, acknowledging the new rank. “Thank you, sir,” he replied, acknowledging the man's authority as well.

Albiers shook his head at Erik with a smile. “Tarverro,” he said calmly, “there are only one hundred and twenty five sailors and sixty two marines on this ship. If we stick to formality, we'll all go insane. Call me Albiers.”

“All right, Albiers,” Erik replied evenly.

“That all your luggage?” the Lieutenant asked, gesturing at the oilskin bag.

“Yes,” Erik replied. “Why?” The question seemed to have an odd tinge.

The Aeraid laughed aloud. “Because you're about the twentieth aristocrat I've hauled on these 'blooding' tours of yours,” he told Erik, “and only about the third to pack sensibly.”

“I see,” Erik said gravely.

Albiers laughed again. “I think I'm going to like you, Tarverro,” he told Erik. “Don't let that go to your head though.”

“We have sixty marines aboard,” Albiers told Erik later, after they'd settled him in and found a seat in the ship's wardroom. “Six squads of ten, split into two platoons. One stays aboard ship, one goes shoreside to escort the cargo. All of our men are double trained – tachi and shield as well as bows.”

The Lieutenant stood, pouring both of them a drink. “Now, I'm putting you in charge of third squad in my first platoon.” He eyed Erik for a moment, and then shrugged as if deciding something. “The sole reason for that is that the squad's corporal, Enviers is his name, is the best I have. Listen to him and you'll be fine.”

“Give the unknown factor to the best man you've got, huh?” Erik murmured. “What did he do to deserve that?”

“It's usually the last test before we make a man a sergeant in his own right, actually,” Albiers told him with a wicked grin. “No offense, but
none
of the aristocrats we get can run a squad when they arrive. Less than half can do it when they leave, either.”

“I'll be careful to listen to Enviers,” Erik promised. Anything else he might have said was interrupted by the arrival of two men, dressed in oilskins and the same sort of utilitarian clothing as Erik and Albiers.

“Ah, speak of the sea,” Albiers said with another grin, leaving Erik to conclude that the arrival of the two men was not an accident.

“This,” he told Erik, gesturing at the younger of the two men, “is Corporal Enviers. For some reason, he doesn't want to join Fleet Marines or the Regulars, so we get to keep his lazy ass around. He'll be the second in command of your squad.”

Erik inclined his head in respect to Enviers. “I look forward to working with you, Corporal Enviers.”

“Call me Ennie, sir,” the Aeraid replied. “Every other son-bitch on this tub does.”

“Very well, Ennie then,” Erik side, hiding a smile at the man's coarse words.

“This,” Albiers continued, gesturing to the second man, “is Sergeant Tolars, the commander of my first platoon. You'll be reporting to him, as well as to me, obviously, for the duration of your stay about
Cloudrunner
. Clear?”

“Yes, Lieutenant,” Erik replied.

“Now,” Albiers told him, a truly evil look stealing over his face, “it's time for you to meet the captain.”

The Lieutenant led Erik forward to the captain's quarters, but stopped at the ironbound door. He knocked on it and gestured for Erik to proceed.

“Go on in,” he instructed.

“Aren't you coming?” Erik asked.

“No,” Albiers replied. “I have other duties, I'm afraid. Don't worry, the captain doesn't bite.”

Erik took a deep breath, remembering all of a sudden that he was still only twenty-one, and stepped through the door. He heard Albiers close the door behind him, and began to silently examine the room.

Like the rest of the ship, the captain's day room was built of heavy oak from the Sky Isles, the original homeland of the Aeradi. It was completely undecorated and contained only a large desk and several chairs.

The stark austerity of the room drew the eye inevitably to the room's sole occupant, sitting at the desk. The Aeraid looked about average height, though it was difficult to tell with him sitting down. The arched cheekbones of the Aeradi were slightly muted in him, leaving him with a somehow feminine look for one of his kind. He was dressed in a neatly fitted dark blue and green uniform, the colors of
sept
Rakeus.

“Erik
septon
Tarverro,” the captain said calmly, “have a seat.”

Erik took a chair and remained silent. For a long moment, the small room was quiet, and then the captain chuckled.

“You are a cool one, aren't you?” The man's gaze met Erik's across the table. “My name is Demond
sept
Rakeus.”

Erik couldn't conceal a slight start, and Demond smiled. “Yes, Hiri is my
septon
. He is also my second cousin on my mother's side. He trusts me, which is why you're on my ship.”

“I see,” Erik replied calmly.

“While you're on this ship, you answer to the chain of command,” Demond told him. “That said, my beloved cousin also made it quite clear that if I didn't bring you home in one piece, there'd be blood to pay.”

“I have no intention of coming back in any great number of pieces,” Erik replied softly. “So I think we can work together on that.”

Demond nodded and gestured to the desk. “It shouldn't be a concern, in any case. This is a relatively normal trip.”

Erik looked onto the desk and saw it was covered by a map of Cevran under a glass sheet. Green markers, stuck somehow to the glass, marked four cities on the northern side of the continent.

“We're running a pretty small circle, actually,” Demond admitted. “I've done the long-range runs – I ran weapons into Met for my cousin during the war there – but I stick pretty close to home these days.” The captain, who Erik judged to be easily fifty years old, ran his fingers along a jagged white scar on his cheek. “I'll leave the risks – and the profits – to the younger generation.”

Erik nodded. “Where are we going?”

Demond traced a path between the four green markers. “We leave Newport at dawn tomorrow and splash down by noon. We'll have to leave the water a week or so later, and several days after that we'll land in the Seije Reservoir. The cargo for there is from here: crystal lights and heaters, a small amount of Sky Isle oak on a specific consignment, crystal-forged sky steel weapons, and assorted miscellany shipped from around the world.”

The captain tapped the marker then moved his fingers to the next one. “We'll load a cargo of pure grain at Seije and ship to Yun. We'll follow the Selt River, though it isn't big enough for us to actually sail on. We'll trade half the grain at Yun, trading it in for wine, grapes and brandy. We'll take that, plus the other half of the grain, on to North Hold, where we'll trade it all to the Dwarves.”

“From the Dwarves we'll pick up a few hundred tons of alignable crystal, and fill the rest of the hold with firepowder and iron ore.” His finger touched the last marker. “We'll sell most of the firepower and ore to the Draconans at Black Mountain, and load up with alignable crystal to fill the hold. In the final numbers, we'll bring about six hundred tons of alignable crystal, and a couple hundred tons each of firepowder and iron ore back to Newport from there.”

Erik eyed the four markers, digesting the captain's lightning quick digest of the plan. “How long will it take us?” he asked.

Demond shrugged. “Depends on too many factors to really predict. If the wind works in our favor, which it should this time of year, and the cargos are all ready as promised…” he shrugged again. “At least six weeks. Could be two months.”

“I see,” Erik replied. “Looks like we're certainly going to see a good chunk of northern Cevran.”

“Hellit, Ell, Dvar, Dracona,” Demond listed. “Four cities, four countries, three species, and it
still
isn't that much of even northern Cevran, kid. The world's a big place.”

Erik nodded his understanding. “Anywhere specific we need to watch for extra trouble?” he asked.

Demond shrugged. “Black Mountain, to a certain extent. There's
always
trouble between us and the Draconans, though nothing really major right now. There's always a chance that some idiot is going to try and hold us up, though, and peace is subject to change with them, anyway. That said – keep your eyes open everywhere. We never know where we'll have trouble.”

With a nod, Erik stood. “Understood. With your permission, I'll return to my quarters and get my things stored.”

“Indeed,” Demond waved lazily. “We'll have the trip to Seije for you to get to know your squad. If I remember Albiers correctly, drill will be on the deck at nine bells. I would recommend being there,” he finished dryly.

“Of course, sir,” Erik replied, saluting roughly before exiting the dayroom.

Nine bells found Erik on the ship's main deck, sword and shield in hand, watching as Albright mustered the two platoons of the
Cloudrunner
's marines into their files. Erik stood at the head of his file of ten men, with Enviers right behind him. Six files stood on the deck, occupying almost the entirety of the free space available.

Albiers stood facing the sixty men, with his two platoon sergeants at his side. “Gentlemen,” he said loudly and clearly, “welcome aboard the
Cloudrunner.
Of the sixty men on this deck, eighteen of you have not served aboard this ship before. I have spoken with each of you in the previous few days, and I have a few final instructions, which will serve as reminders to our old hands.

“Look around you,” he instructed. “There are sixty men on this deck. Six squads, two platoons. These men, for the duration of this voyage, are your brothers in arms. You will get to know them well – far better than you'd like, all considered,” he added with a grin. “Their lives will be as dear to you as your own, because if they aren't, we're screwed.

“We're going to be traveling into areas that are well-traveled by Aeradi ships, but it's still possible that we'll end up the only sky ship in port. Which
means
, gentlemen, that
we
will be the primary military force defending Aeradi interests in a given city, and the local factors and embassies may well call upon us to serve in that capacity.