Yingler,” said Blaylocke. “Yingler is a trustworthy man. You’re nothing but a petty criminal.”
“Bloody right I am, and it takes one to know one, isn’t that what they say? If you think a guy won’t go to interminable lengths to hide himself in plain sight, or to paint himself as an altruist when he’s really a scheming traitor, then your head is even further up your keister than I thought it was.”
Blaylocke yanked the remote from his pocket and stood, backed away a few steps.
“Hide behind your little bug zapper again,” I said. “What a brave man.”
Blaylocke hit the button. A thousand needles pricked every inch of my skin, crawling over me like a swarm of metallic spiders. My whole body stiffened and I fell over, racked with pain. Solenoids and eyelights and wrist spikes flicked in and out, on and off. My vision was trembling, my body screwed up tight, a high-pitched whine ringing in my ears. I was erupting like some human alarm gone haywire. When the crackler stopped, I lay like a discarded toy, breathing.
“That’s for emergency situations only, not just anytime you feel like torturing him,” I heard Vilaris say.
Blaylocke’s face blotted out the sky. “Just making sure it works,” he said, amused.
I’d been all talk when they put the device in me. It was much worse than I remembered the wristbands being. Chaz knew the cipher, the way to open the seal around it. Addled as he was, I didn’t see much hope in getting it out of him. It seemed the only way I’d ever be rid of this thing was if I underwent major surgery or took my arm off at the elbow. I could get a replacement, but those were expensive.
When I’d recovered some, I sat up on my elbows. “Don’t fall asleep tonight,” I said.
Blaylocke brandished the remote. “You want some more?”
“I want you to shut your yap and listen. Vilaris, you said Yingler was the guy who used to trade with Gilfoyle on the city’s behalf. Why was that? Because he’s a techsoul? Don’t you find it a little strange that Gilfoyle decides to break your contract and relocate his mining operation, and then the Council sends me to fix the problem? That makes no sense, unless Yingler had a reason not to go fix it himself. If he knows Gilfoyle and he’s on good terms with the guy, why wouldn’t he at least make an effort? Does he want the city to go bankrupt? Because sending a group of expendables and sabotaging their mission seems like a good way to make sure it does. I’ll bet you all the chips I have, Yingler and Gilfoyle were in league before I ever came into the picture. My theft didn’t scare Gilfoyle off; it gave him the excuse he needed to leave. I think Gilfoyle and Yingler are conspiring against Pyras.”
Vilaris was thoughtful.
Blaylocke was sneering at me. “That sounds like a convenient ploy to clear yourself of guilt,” he said, “and it’s a very convoluted way of arriving at a theory that isn’t plausible. No one predicted you were going to fall into our lap like you did. Coming across your bluewave beacon in the Churn was a stroke of luck for us. Councilor Yingler is a shrewd man, and he saw that stroke of luck for what it was: an opportunity to fix what you’d broken without risking the lives of any of Pyras’s citizens. That is, until you dragged us along with you. Now Chaz is half-dead and we’re stuck on this rock ‘til someone floats by.”
“I’ve been working on airships all my life. I can get us airborne again, it’s just going to take some time to flight-check all the systems. If I had Chaz to show me where all his tools are and give me a rundown of the schematics, it would be easier, but let’s be honest—Chaz ain’t exactly in a helpful mood.” I checked over my shoulder again.
Chaz had gotten to his feet and was wandering around near the edge.
“Dangit, Chaz.” I sprinted toward him and seized the back of his coat just as he was thrusting a foot out over the abyss. “Not that way, ol’ buddy. Over here.” I turned him around and walked him back to the ship.
“I guess we ought to chain him to the ground,” said Blaylocke. “Anybody bring a dog collar?”
I was deciding whether to laugh or punch Blaylocke in the throat when Vilaris pointed. “Look, another floater. Just above those clouds, there. Something’s built on it.”
The small island was a few hundred feet higher than we were, riding a strong headwind. It was far enough behind us that I could just make out the shape of an ornate building beyond the parting clouds. My eye whirred as I zoomed in for a better look.
“Holy mother,” said Blaylocke. “There’s a symbol on the dome, there.”
Vilaris was nodding. “Holy is right. It’s a Skytemple of Leridote.”
I grimaced. “Temples are for law-lovers,” I said. “Screw law-lovers.” Then I said something mean about law-lovers.
“Despite how you may feel, that temple is our best chance of getting help,” said Vilaris. “Fixing the ship could take days. That’s time we don’t have if we want to catch up with that floater.”
“You still want to go through with this whole endeavor? Even if Yingler and Gilfoyle are in cahoots?”
“Even if they are, Pyras will starve without income. We produce our own crops and livestock, but there’s plenty more we don’t produce that the money from our gravstone buys. If Yingler wants us to fail, the best thing we can do is succeed.”
“Fine. You’re right,” I said. “Just don’t expect me to be pals with any of those Leri-dolts up there. Help me mend the rigging lines. We’re gonna get the Clarity back in the air so we can chase down that temple.”
5
Our little floater slipped away beneath us as I took the Clarity airborne. Wind whipped into the cabin through the yawning wound in our hull, filling the control capsule with cold, thin air. Vilaris and Blaylocke had strapped Chaz into his seat with a few lengths of rope to be sure he didn’t fall or wiggle out while no one was watching. I felt bad about it, but something was wrong with the guy. We needed to get him to a place where he could get help.
It had taken us the better part of an hour to secure the lines and get the undercarriage balanced under the balloon again. In that time, the Skytemple had drifted past us and disappeared into the clouds overhead. I’d had to do some heavy convincing to get Blaylocke back on board. He was afraid the ship wouldn’t make it more than a few feet off the floater. I was just as afraid as he was, only I wasn’t a gutless wimp.
The prop engines sputtered to life, and I thanked myself in retrospect for shutting them off when I had. There hadn’t been time to flight-check every last component, so I did a quick visual scan of my instruments to make sure there was pressure in the bag and clean air in the ballonets. I set the engines to slow speed and opened both valves. We lifted off, staying level. I didn’t want to risk nosing up too steeply like I had in the nearflow. Too much pressure on any of the rigging could put us back in a similar predicament.
“There it is,” Vilaris said, leaning forward in his seat. “The back of it is poking out through that cloud.”
“Alright, I see it,” I said. “Never thought I’d be in such a hurry to get to church.”
Our little floater slipped out of view in the bottom windows. I pushed the engines to half speed, making sure I was rising faster than I was accelerating. We rose until we were at altitude with the Skytemple. I closed the ballonet valves and headed for the cluster of pillowy white clouds where our destination was hiding. Soon we were engulfed in a blinding cloak. I cut the engines to slow as wisps of cumulus licked the interior of the ship like white flames, dissipating in the crisp air of the cabin.
Something thudded against the hull.
“Not again,” I sighed, thinking another line had snapped.
We came into clear sky, and the island temple spread out before us. It was a large floater, a tenth of a mile long at least, with dense forests and a mountain waterfall at its head. The temple foundations were of lavish gray stone, its wings and courtyards set on multi-layered terraces whose steps flowed over the contour of the land like rivers. There were towers and steeples topped by concave roof trusses, with porcelain shingles of a deep watery pur
ple. Like most inhabited floaters, this one had a small airfield. There was a hover and two air barges, which the inhabitants must’ve used to transport goods and passengers. The airfield wasn’t large enough for a runway, but there were empty spaces for other ships to land. The whole thing looked welcoming enough, except that there were monks streaming out of doors and onto balconies, aiming crossbows and ballistae in our direction.
Vilaris swore.
“I told you I had a bad feeling about this,” I said.
“No, you said you hated law-lovers,” said Blaylocke.
“Was I wrong?”
Blaylocke didn’t answer. Chaz was mumbling gibberish to himself.
“Well, I don’t see any reason to stick around, do you? The Clarity is airworthy; that much we know. Might as well stay that way while we still can, or they’ll turn this thing into a pincushion.” I was twisting open both ballast valves and reversing the engines as I spoke.
We began to rise while crossbow bolts punched the hull, quivering. Others careened off the windows, while still more rose toward us and lost momentum before plummeting back down. The monks were dressed in purple robes that matched the color of the roofing tiles. They scurried around like ants, getting smaller and less menacing as we faded up and back into the clouds.
“Isn’t Leridote supposed to be a peaceful god?” I said.
“Men have been fighting in the