Askaro looked up at the Slave Master. “My grandfather will never allow you to sell me.”
Master Bruvano’s face twisted. He pushed Askaro toward the gate that held back the wall of people. He called out to them to get their attention. “You saw what this slave did. Who will give me the highest price?”
Askaro tried to twist away. “You can’t! It’s against the charter. All sales have to be approved by...”
Bruvano’s hand smacked into Askaro’s face. “Be silent and know your place.”
Men were shouting out bids, trying to outdo the others. A man in bright red merchants guild attire leaned far over the gate. “Two hundred gold pieces.”
There were astonished gasps from the others and the crowd became quiet.
Bruvano chuckled softly. “Now there’s a man who knows the true value of a good slave.” He pulled Askaro toward the gate.
The man was waving a purse above his head. “For a slave who can leap like that, it’s worth it.”
Askaro curled and twisted away from Bruvano’s grasp. “I’m not a...”
Bruvano punched him harder. “No more back talk from you.”
The blow made him dizzy but it had been strong enough to land him a few paces away. Askaro rolled and scrambled to his feet. He started down the ramp back toward the doors of the ship.
Mister Fantori came through the doorway. “I heard there was a complaint about my steering.”
Bruvano whistled. “Grab the boy. I’ve got a buyer waiting for him.”
Fantori grinned. “It’s about time.” He grabbed for Askaro’s arm.
Askaro swerved but there was no way to get around the Helmsman. He jumped for the ladder that was still balanced between the rail of the ramp and the port-side docking post. He lightly scrambled across while Fantori cursed behind him. There was another post between that one and the dock. Askaro didn’t even pause to calculate the distance. He flung himself across the gap.
The crowd on the dock seemed to gasp in unison. Bruvano yelled at Fantori. “Grab a gaft hook and snag him!”
Askaro glanced back as the burly Helmsman retrieved the long pole. He estimated the distance and realized he wasn’t safe on his perch. He looked toward the dock. It was almost eighty units away and there was nothing below but the framed supports of the docking cradle before an unimaginable drop.
Fantori swung the double-ended hook toward him. “You’ve got nowhere to go, Ass.”
Askaro glanced upward. The Sky Deck was hidden by the mass of the dirigible and no one stood on the Weather Deck above the Head of the Falcon. The hook swung close to his shoulder and he ducked.
Fantori growled. “Come on you stupid brat. You’re worth nothing to anyone dead.” He swiped again.
There was no way to get away from the hook this time. Askaro bunched up all of his muscles, focused on the railing of the dock, and sprang away from the advancing hook. He could see the startled looks on the faces of the people along the dock. Those near his target tried to back away but were held by the press of the mass behind. He’d purposefully over-calculated the distance. His momentum landed him in a cluster of startled onlookers.
Bruvano roared from the other side of the crowd. “Move aside. Let me through!”
Askaro untangled himself from the struggling people he’d taken down with his landing. They were all shouting at once. He rolled free and scooted between the legs of those trying to help the others right themselves.
Bruvano’s voice rose above the crowd as he called to Fantori. “He’s on the quay. Find him!”
Askaro ducked and twisted around legs and swiveled away from grabbing hands. He could hear the protests of men and women as Bruvano and Fantori plowed through the crowd after him. He saw a break in the sea of legs and made for the opening. He was finally able to get to his feet. He glanced behind him. The path of the Slave Master and Helmsmen was marked by the shouts of displaced people.
A man in a dark blue uniform blew a whistle. “You there, stop where you are!”
Askaro didn’t know what the man intended to do. Bruvano and Fantori were too close for him to risk it. He changed direction and tried to move back toward the gate. He could see Officers on the Sky Deck of the Falcon. If he could reach the ramp before The Slave Master and Helmsman, he’d be safe.
Fantori emerged from the crowd a few steps ahead of him. “I’ve got you now!”
Askaro ducked to the side, avoiding the grasp of both the Helmsmen and others from the crowd. He saw an opening in the wall of buildings that backed the quay and dashed toward it. A stairway crowded with even more people rose between the buildings. He slid between the startled people and went upward. He came to an intersection. Several men in blue uniforms were pushing their way down the stairs that led to the next level. Askaro wasn’t sure which way to turn. Both directions of the narrow cross street were packed with pedestrians.
A man to his right shouted at him so he went left. The street was lined with shops. The buildings to his right were taller with several stories of windows. Those to his left were only one story. The sounds of a commotion echoed from the intersection behind him. Master Bruvano’s shouts rose above the others.
Askaro was struggling to make headway through the crowd. He glanced upward at the red tiled roof of the lower buildings. There was a crate full of fruit in front of a shop. He used it as a step and bounded onto the rooftop. He looked down in the direction he’d come. More of the men in blue uniforms had appeared. Bruvano was talking to them and pointing.
Fantori was pushing his way through the crowd. He looked up at Askaro. “You’re in for it now, Ass. The Authority will have you in shackles.” He moved toward a stack of crates at a different shop and began to climb them.
Askaro ran along the tiled roof. There was a considerable drop on the other side of the building where it faced the quay. The mass of people crowded together below swayed like a rolling sea. He could see the Falcon but at this distance, the figures on the Sky Deck were indistinguishable. He now understood his father’s concern about the tight space. The tip of the port foremast seemed to be jammed against a building. Crewmen and Masters stood at attention along the length of the mast. If he could reach that building, he might be able to jump across to the mast.
Askaro glanced behind and discovered Fantori had managed to climb up onto the roof. He was shouting at people below in the street and pointing in Askaro’s direction. The Helmsman started toward him but his boots slid on the clay tiles.
Askaro saw more buildings rising ahead of him. There was a gap between the roof he was running on and the next. He easily leaped across the opening between the row of buildings. Men clasping mugs of ale shouted at him from the street below. He glanced behind. Fantori was struggling. A loose tile gave under his weight. He slid downward and landed on a group of bystanders in the street.
Bruvano and the uniformed men were still headed in his direction. Askaro looked toward the Falcon, trying to judge which building was the closest to the port foremast. This roof was flat for a span then angled sharply upward in the direction he’d been going. He changed course, making use of the even surface to run toward his goal. Ahead of him was a slightly taller building that appeared to be the end of that row. A bright beacon glowed from the top of the structure. It must be the Harbor Master’s watch tower.
Bruvano’s voice echoed from the street below. “He came this way. I’m sure of it. That slave has always been trouble.”
Askaro glanced down and saw a sizable collection of the blue uniformed men pushing through the crowd ahead of his pursuer. Askaro considered his dirty, tattered clothes, stained with blood. Who would believe him over the word of the Slave Master?
The street below ended at the taller structure. Askaro could see the symbol of the Port Authority above the door. The roof he had been running across came to an abrupt end beside the second story of the building. The port Foremast was directly in front of him. The Crewmen and Masters were
gone. But the distance was immense. It had to be more than 200 units. There was no way even he could make that leap. He looked down from the edge of the roof. There was nothing but clouds and a hint of sunlight glimmering on the ocean far below.
Voices from the building beside him warned Askaro that the Slave Master had convinced the Harbor Master to help him. An older man with a tight-cut white beard came out onto the balcony that was even with the rooftop. He leaned on the metal railing. “Come here, boy! You’ve no where else to go.”
Askaro glanced back the way he’d come. Fantori and a group of uniformed men were running toward him. He turned toward the steeply slanted roof and began scrambling up the incline. His bare feet gave him purchase on the slippery tiles. Fantori tried to follow without success. Askaro came to the peak and paused. A vast sea of buildings spread out before him, their roofs separated by narrow gaps.
Bruvano whistled to get Fantori’s attention. “Get down and go around the block to cut him off! I’ll be right behind you!”
Not knowing what else to do, he moved forward down the ridge line of the roof that intersected his perch. He noticed at once that the tiles of this roof were different. Not only had the color changed to a drab tan but the tiles were crumbling. The buildings also looked different. These had not been covered in colorful plaster. The structures were supported with mortared stone and filled in with brick. Many of the roofs had gabled windows.
Askaro risked coming to the edge of the roof and looked down into the narrow streets. There were fewer people here and their clothes seemed shabbier. He caught a drift of conversation. Their accents seemed heavy to his ears but the words were clear enough. They knew the uniformed men were looking for a run away slave. He backed toward one of the gables and discovered a narrow gap where the gabled roof overhung the main one. He crawled into the space and hoped the shadows would hide him from searching eyes.
He was exhausted. The hard labor through the storm coupled with the short sleep shift only made it worse. His body ached. Askaro wrapped his arms around his folded knees. He wanted to cry but couldn’t afford the distraction. He looked across the rows of rooftops. In the distance he saw a tall white tower rising into the sky. He thought back to the map his grandfather had shown him. It must be Cloud Tower. If he could get back to the ship his family could help him. Surely his grandfather, being a great Sky Wizard, could do something.
Bruvano’s voice echoed down in the street below. Askaro leaned back as far as he could into the small space. Fantori grumbled and coughed. “We’ve been all over these streets. We’ve lost him. We should just go back to the ship.”
“And tell the Captain? Do you think he’ll be happy with us? You idiot! That old fool dotes on the brat. He was mad to let his son bed a slave and even madder to think the spawn of that was his heir. Pure insanity.”
Fantori huffed. “We have to tell him something. If we don’t go back we don’t get no pay. I spent seventeen years on that ship. I ain’t walking away without my rightful funds.”
Bruvano growled deep in his throat. “Then you’d better figure out what to tell the Old Man.”
“We tells him the boy went crazy after the death of the other slave and jumped over the side. We tried to get him back. Didn’t we?” Fantori stepped out into the street beyond the edge of the roof and looked both ways. “In these slums, he’ll never survive the night. He’ll be dead by morning.”
Askaro watched a lean man dressed in leather armor move toward the Helmsman. He had advanced slowly at first but quickened his pace when Fantori turned in his direction. He came to a stop facing the Helmsman and bowed slightly. “Good day to you, my fine sirs.”
Bruvano moved forward. Askaro could see his sweat-soaked shoulders and the back of his matted hair. “What do you want?”
“I heard you have a problem and I’m here to solve it for you.”
Fantori leaned toward the man. “Who are you? How do you know what ails us?”
The man laughed lightly. “Forgive me. I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Golarin. I’m a tracker, the best on Rokathalon. Ask around if you don’t believe me. I always find what I’m looking for.”
Bruvano surveyed the street. “And what makes you think we’ve lost something?”
Golarin laughed again. “News travels like the wind, especially since it has something to do with the Falcon. The city has been abuzz ever since the Magnificent returned with news of Her eminent arrival.”
Fantori snorted. “And what makes you think you can find the brat when we can’t?”
The tracker shrugged. “This is my town.”
Bruvano paced back under the overhang. “And what do you expect to get out of it?”
“The winds tell me this particular slave is worth 200 pieces of gold. So I hand him over to you and you hand over 80 gold divits to me.”
Fantori gasped. “What? That’s robbery!”
Golarin studied his fingertips. “Right now it looks to me like you are empty-handed.” He matched his gaze to the Helmsman’s. “Seems to me 120 divided between you is better than empty pockets.”
Fantori started to argue but Bruvano put a hand on his shoulder. “It would be best if this wasn’t mentioned to the Authority. We’ll have enough grief from our Captain because of this.”
Golarin smiled. “Not a problem. They tend to stay out of my way.”
Fantori put his hands on his hips. “And how do we know that you won’t just turn around and sell him yourself once you grab him?”
The tracker took a step back. “Gentleman! I have a reputation to keep. One doesn’t succeed in my business by cheating customers.”
Bruvano came back out into view. “Fine. How will we know when you’ve got him? We can’t exactly go back to our ship with nothing to show for it.”
Golarin tapped his chin with a finger. “There are rooms available on Low Street across from the Red Cloud Pub. The lady who runs the establishment is called Glory. Tell her you’re one of my customers and she’ll put you up. It shouldn’t take me long.”
Fantori snorted. “Hah! What makes you say that?”
Golarin smiled. “Because my men are already tracking him.”
Askaro heard the slight squeal of the window hinges a moment before the shadow blocked the light. He didn’t hesitate. He kicked out with both feet and felt them contact with a leather chest plate. The man gasped in shock and went flying outward. Askaro slid out of the hole and scurried toward the ridge line of the main roof. Several other men were crawling around the edge of the gable. Askaro began to run as fast as his tired body would allow.