the meantime, they’d better be brought above and set up. I don’t think we’ll need them, but it couldn’t hurt. Eliza, did you pick up everything you needed in town today?”
“Aye,” she said, her green eyes smiling.
“Good, good. There’s a warehouse on Platform 14 where they keep all the unprocessed ore. It’s where I found the gravstone last time. My mistake was not realizing that every hovertruck in the place is bugged. The mine operators want to know which vehicles are being used where, and by stealing the hovertruck itself I unwittingly led them right to me.
“From the warehouse, the ore is taken to Platform 22 to be processed. The layout of the processing plant is pretty complicated, but there’s only one section they use to extract gravstone. Whatever gravstone Gilfoyle possesses has to be in one of those two places—Platform 14, or Platform 22—I just don’t know which. That means that if my primary plan doesn’t work out, we’re going to have to strike both at the same time.”
A murmur arose among the crew, uneasy words.
“You’re wondering how we’re gonna pull that off with eleven people and a ship to fly. Easier done than said, I assure you. Alastair Gilfoyle owes the city of Bannock a great deal of money.” I made sure I said ‘Bannock’ instead of ‘Pyras’ this time. “He broke his contract and failed to pay us for services rendered. So before we bother with any of this gravstone heist nonsense, we’re going to do what grown men are supposed to do when there’s a disagreement. Talk to him, face-to-face.”
“Didn’t he try to kill you last time?” asked Mr. Scofield.
“Gilfoyle gave the order and his thugs carried it out,” I said, nodding. “But if we can get to him when he’s not surrounded by his goons, I don’t think he’ll be in a position to carry out violence.”
“Alright, enough,” said Sable. “This talk of killing is making me anxious. I hope Gilfoyle agrees to uphold his half of the contract and pay what he owes. There doesn’t need to be any more killing going on.”
You’re in the wrong profession if you’re afraid of killing, I almost said. “I hope he does, too. But in case he doesn’t, here’s my idea for a backup plan.”
It took two hours for me to explain my idea to the crew and discuss every minor point they were concerned about. We made alterations where necessary, shifting our little skeleton crew around to accommodate the various tasks, and working out a few timing and logistical issues I’d overlooked. I was convinced we were ready, but we’d plotted late into the night and everyone was tired, so we decided to get some rest and execute the scheme the following day.
I didn’t sleep much that night, and I got the feeling no one else did either. The rain had stopped by the time we woke, but the sky was gray that morning, and the fog still lay thick in the fields around the Galeskimmer. I tried not to think about whether all of us would live to see the end of that day. I didn’t want it to matter.
“How you feelin’, Chaz?” I asked him over breakfast.
“Ready,” he said, biting off half a strip of bacon.
“I’m gonna be counting on you today. Hard.”
“I’ve got everything you asked for. It’s all set to go.” Chaz’s straight black hair had grown out since we’d left Pyras. Now that his head wound had healed and he no longer wore the bandages, he’d taken to sweeping the drape out of his eyes and tying it behind his head, the way Vilaris often did. Chaz would’ve looked a right sailor if it weren’t for those goggles and the gadgets he was always tinkering around with.
I cuffed him on the shoulder and stood to leave. “You’re a better man and a better primie than I ever expected to meet,” I told him, and meant it.
While I was helping Dennel McMurtry carry one of the four-pounders up the stairs to the deck, Blaylocke passed us, going down. I was pleasantly surprised when he grabbed the middle of the cannon and helped us lug it the rest of the way. The thing was deceptively heavy for its size.
“Thanks,” I said, dusting off my hands. “So… have you decided yet?”
He nodded. “I’m coming to Gilfoyle’s.”
Blaylocke had been unsure whether his skills would be better served on board the Galeskimmer in the event that we needed to raid the platforms, or if he should do the brave thing and come with us to confront Gilfoyle. Rather than fighting him over it, I’d left it up to him. Giving Blaylocke a hard time had lost some of its luster. I’d seen the man get more homesick and despondent with each passing day. Instead of the retorts and angry challenges he used to give me, he’d started to ignore me or walk away whenever I tried to start a verbal sparring match with him. It made me feel like a real prick. But I am a real prick, so I figure it kept me grounded.
“Ding-ding-ding,” I sang. “Correct answer.”
“How sure are you that Gilfoyle’s going to fold? You think he’ll just hand over the chips he owes us?”
“Absolutely not. I think he’s gonna be the same old cigar-smoking, medallion-wearing, walking-cane-up-his-butt, ore-smelting donkey. He’ll be just as hard to deal with as ever. The only difference is that he won’t have his muscle around to give orders to.”
“Why are we even trying then? Let’s just go straight to Plan B.”
I threw up my hands and let them slap my thighs. “There’s only so much of this defeatist attitude of yours I can take, Blaylocke. We’re trying it this way because… why not? And also because, what good are death and destruction if you’re not having fun?”
Blaylocke frowned and started to walk away.
“Hey,” I said, halting him. “Nobody on this boat is dumb enough not to notice you feeling sorry for yourself all the time. Except maybe Nerimund. I actually don’t know if that guy’s dumb or if he just likes repeating what everyone says. Anyway, you’re crushing the mood around here. We’re supposed to be getting riled up for tonight. The people who crew this ship are a bunch of glorified mailmen; this is the most dangerous thing most of them have probably ever done. But you? You’re a City Watchman. You ride hoverbikes across the Churn like it’s an ice skating rink, for crying out loud. Take some pride in yourself. You miss your family? Great. When you get home, tell them the stories about how you fought to do right by them, for the good of Pyras—not stories about how you moped around the ship and cried the whole time. We’re doing this for them. Well… you are, at least. I’m in it for the chips.”
There was the hint of a twinkle in Blaylocke’s eye, as if a fond memory had swept over him. He started to walk away again. When he was halfway across the deck, he called back over his shoulder. “Let’s not screw this up, blueblood.”
I could hear the smile on his face when he said it.
I stood for a moment and looked out across the fields, laden with their thick blanket of fog. Rays of daylight had begun to pierce through. I hoped the sun would burn away the rest and give us clear skies before nightfall.
“Mr. Jakes, if you’ll accompany me for a moment…”
I hadn’t noticed Landon Scofield approaching, but he was there, standing behind me with a blank look on his face. Nerimund stood behind him, peering out around his arm like a child.
“What is it?”
“Ms. Brunswick would like a word with you.”
“A word,” said Nerimund.
If I’d had to guess the word Sable wanted to say to me, it wouldn’t have been one I enjoyed hearing. Still, I followed Scofield obediently, keeping my distance from the little duender trailing at his heels. Inside the captain’s quarters, Sable was standing near her table full of maps and charts. Dennel McMurtry was there too. He was sitting in one of the wooden armchairs, legs pressed together beneath the table, picking at the brim of the top-hat in his lap. His eyes had a cold, glazed look, and worry lines crinkled his forehead.
Sable waited for the door to close. “So, Mr. Jakes. Tell us about Pyras.”
I feigned innocence. “What’s Pyras?”
“Mr. McMurtry overheard you talking with Mr. Blaylocke outside. You said you were doing this ‘for the good of Pyras.’ What
does that mean?”
“Just an expression,” I said. “It’s the name of the company we want to start someday. Once we have the money.”
Sable tapped the map on the table with her finger. “Show me where it is.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Where our company is?”
“Where Bannock is. Show me where your home town is on this map.”
I crossed the room and stood next to the table, looking down. The winds of the stream were fickle and ever-changing, so the positions and movements of inhabited floaters could only be tracked if they were emitting a bluewave signal. Maps had to be redrawn on a constant basis using the distances estimated by the ship’s receivers. The map showed everything on our side of the world, represented by a series of dots, with lines that showed the various distances between them and their average speeds in the stream. There were no altitude markers on most of them, and only a few had names—the ones Mr. Scofield knew from memory or had seen when we’d passed them.
I studied the map for a moment, trying to decide which floater to point to. Everything in the stream had moved since the last time I’d looked at a stream chart, floaters shifting and passing one another in their never-ending cycle around Esperon. In truth, I’d only been to Bannock that one time. So with my limited, out-of-date aerographical knowledge, there were a dozen different points on the map I thought could be Bannock. If we’d really lived there, as