Chasing the Lantern (10 page)

The
Dawnhawk
swooped in over the lagoon. Fengel spied brightly colored fish darting into hiding as the ship's shadow passed across the water. He stood up straight and waved to his first mate. Lucian stood in turn, laughing to see Fengel on the bow of the stolen ship.

Maxim brought the airship to a halt. Fengel called for a rope ladder and watched as one of the crew brought one up, then tossed it overboard. It unrolled itself as it fell, just long enough for Lucian to grab. As his first mate made his ascent, Fengel gestured back to Maxim at the wheel. The navigator called out warning and busied himself with the controls. At his prompting the ship rose, pointing itself out away from the lagoon. Henry Smalls came up from the stern, joining him at the bow just as Lucian crawled over the rail.

"Hah," panted Lucian, winded from the climb. "Beat you again, Captain. Even in an airship. Close shave, though. I only arrived here this morning." Lucian was sweaty and disheveled, his usual debonair appearance dispelled. He spied the steward and gave a nod. "Hullo, Henry."

Fengel smiled. "I will never understand how you can make it from Haventown to Breakneck Bay in less than two days."

"That, my good captain, is because you're not a dashing first mate. We've all got our secrets." He looked up at gasbag frame and then down the deck, taking in the ship. "Well now. Didn't get a good look at her back in port. She's quite the beauty."

Fengel nodded. "Different from our last, but more than adequate. How was the trip out of town?"

Lucian groaned. "Rough. Mordie's getting better. Or I'm getting sloppier. But I can tell you that later. Let's get under way." He faced Henry formally. "Acting first mate, I'll take the watch."

"You have the watch," replied Henry dutifully.

Lucian stood straighter, falling easily into the role of authority. He fired off questions to Henry about the crew, the ship, and the watch log. Fengel left them to it and made his way back down the deck to where Maxim stood at the ship's helm. The aetherite nodded, but stood oddly, slightly tilted, as if leaning subconsciously away from the invisible daemon on his shoulder.

"Bring us up, Maxim. It's time to see how she carries along an aetherline."

The navigator nodded. He gave the wheel a spin and pulled at the levers of the gearbox. The lagoon whirled away as they rose up beyond the cliffs and its treetop canopy. Maxim's gray eyes peered out into the empty morning skies and muttered at his shoulder. After a moment he nodded and turned back to the captain. "Engmann's Run could be flowing stronger," he said in his accented Perinese, pursing his lips as if to keep from adding anything else.

"So long as it flows," replied Fengel. "That just happens to be our bearing."

Lucian and Henry reappeared. The first mate glanced at a gauge on the gearbox and then at the ship around them. "All right," he said, smiling up at Fengel. "Let's see how she holds up."

Fengel nodded calmly, hiding any trace of the uncertainty he felt in his stomach. The
Dawnhawk
was a very good ship to all appearances so far. But each and every one of the Mechanist's sky-vessels was idiosyncratic. While she flew well enough, there was no way to tell how this next step would go.

"We're rising into it now," said Maxim.

"Give the word, first mate," said Fengel.

Lucian cupped his hands and bellowed out at the crew. "Ready the deck!"

The pirates dropped what they were doing and ran to their pre-assigned stations. Some climbed the ratlines to be near the gas-bag. Others ran up to the bow or back to the stern. Hatches were tightened and lines hurriedly coiled.

Fengel felt a slight shudder travel through the ship. It jolted, as if in a strong crosswind, though none was blowing. Slowly, it spun counter-clockwise without aid of their rudders, until they pointed southeast, nose out toward the blue sky over the ocean. The skysails along the outer hull rippled, caught by a force that only Maxim could see.

"Dead set," said the navigator.

"Run out the skysails," ordered Lucian.

The navigator reached over to the gearbox and pulled a large lever. A loud, mechanical clank echoed from within, and the gear-link mechanisms running down the length of the pipes stuttered and whirred. The shimmer-cloth of the skysails stretched, opening like the wings of a bat or a dragon stretched wide. The skysails flared brilliantly along the ship and they jolted forward, picking up speed as they went.

The ship settled without any further shuddering, still at speed. All about the deck the crew stood quiet—Fengel and his officers waited for something, anything, to give. He sent a spare crewman below with an order to the Mechanist to cut the engines. After a minute the vibration of the deck changed and the steam-pipe exhaust dwindled. The chain-driven propellers slowed in their spin. Yet the ship kept moving, losing only a little speed. A long minute passed. Then two. Fengel looked to Lucian and the two walked back to the stern. Far below them the waves of the ocean raced by.

"Goddess above," said his first mate. "Smooth as a baby's behind."

The crew cheered, the tension broken. Fengel allowed himself a small smile. They'd stolen the ship, but only now were they
really
flying it. The skysails and the aetherlines they caught were the true secret of flight, the Brotherhood's amazing discovery. No Haventown airship was really worth flying if it couldn't use them; no one could carry enough coal to make flitting all over the Atalian Sea worth it. But it was not easy to make the skysails, and every vessel was virgin until they had been tried. The
Dawnhawk
was well and truly theirs now.

"This," said Henry, "is a good ship."

Fengel bent over to inspect the gauges along the gearbox. He blinked at what he saw and peered up at Maxim. "Have you expended a Working?" he asked. The navigator shook his head. "Hmm," mused Fengel. "Then she's even faster than the
Flittergrasp
was." Despite himself, Fengel was impressed. Not that he'd let it show. "Well and good!" he continued. "Keep to the southeast course then. If Engmann will let us, we'll go all the way to the Yulan. Should only be a day or two until we hit the Stormwall, at this rate." Though the aetherlines didn't run quite straight, they were direct enough, and the coal they saved by not running the propellers would make all the difference. "Lucian, Henry, to the mess. Maxim, send someone down to us if we're needed."

The navigator nodded, resuming his stance before the wheel, focused now on the aetherial current only he could see.

Fengel took his officers down into the ship, over the lower sleeping-deck, and through the aft hatch towards the mess. Passing through the sleeper-rooms he spied the night-watch, slumbering. One of them, the skinny ex-prostitute, caught his eye.

Miss Stone snored uncomfortably in her hammock, arms and legs akimbo, her hands blistered and covered in grease. But she slept soundly. Most green sailors were unsteady and restless aboard their first ship. Indeed, Fengel remembered his own initial voyage all too well. But she was out like a blown lantern.
Then again, a whore's used to a rough life.
Gunny Lome was a demanding woman, though fair.

With her blonde, knife-hacked hair and oversized clothing, Miss Stone looked even more like the waif she truly was. She was stick-thin, and short from what he remembered, barely up to his shoulder. She was attractive, if somewhat boyish at the moment. Could she really adapt to the life of a pirate?
I shall have to keep an eye on her
.

The trio pushed on into the mess. It was empty but for Geoffrey Lords, their silent, terrifying cook, cleaning up the breakfast. As they entered he looked up and grinned, showing off his filed-down teeth, then moved wordlessly back into the kitchen to give the three of them privacy. Lucian piled a plate high with leftovers and sat near a porthole with Henry and Fengel.

"Well," said the first mate, jamming a biscuit into his mouth. "I don't mind telling you, this was a hell of a thing to pull off."

Lucian was capable of being subtle when fishing for compliments. He just rarely bothered. "We could not have done it without you," said Fengel dutifully.

His first mate beamed. "Damned right you couldn't have. Oh, but it was worth it, though. Tweaking both Natasha
and
Mordecai. Right to their faces. That was worth the effort." He laughed. "They were mad as all get-out. Old Mordie chased me down to the Waterdocks, then back up to the top of the terraces and into the jungle. Caught all my blinds, backtracking, and cheap tricks. Almost didn't get away." He paused to take a bite of toast.

"Do you know if she's got any supporters in town?" asked Henry. "Anyone who'll give her a lift after us?"

Lucian shook his head. "When you first cooked this up, I thought Weatherby might throw a wrench in things. But he's delayed, stuck pillaging out west longer than I thought he'd be." The first mate sat back and smiled. "We're free and clear to go wherever we want."

Fengel stole a muffin from Lucian's plate. "Capital. Then we make course east by southeast. Engmann's Run looks strong at the moment, so we'll follow the shortcut of her curve 'til we hit the coast if we can. If Mr. Grey is right, then the
Albatross
should be wrecked along the mouth of the Silverpenny river." He reached into his coat and pulled out a map. Unrolling it, he spread it out on the table, placing the muffin at a recalcitrant corner to keep it flat. "Surprisingly,
Dawnhawk
has an excellent stock of maps. This is a recent survey of the south-western coastline." He placed a finger along a poorly sketched portion. "And here is the river."

"So far south of Breachtown," mused Henry. "What was the
Albatross
doing down there? That's all wilderness and jungle, not even really explored."

Fengel waved this off. "That just means that the ship is ripe for the plucking."

"About that," interrupted Lucian. "This trip isn't going to be as easy as it seems."

Fengel raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

His first mate sighed. "Well, for one, Grey was right. The gemstone's cursed."

Fengel blinked. His steward looked up from the map.

"Really?" asked Henry.

"Really," said Lucian. He paused to take a bite of boiled egg. "Grey's not the first to hear of the thing.  It's been causing a stir over in Breachtown since before we left for Triskelion. Grey's been angling for the gem for awhile now. I think he's been watching and waiting for an opportunity just like this one. He's probably been driving his Breachtown contracts all over the place, sniffing about. The
Albatross
has only been missing for a few days."

That explains the timing
. "Interesting," said Fengel aloud. "But what did
your
contacts say?"

"That the gem's cursed," continued Lucian. "Looks like it was found only a few weeks ago. Adventurer by the name of Silas Thorn brought it back to Breachtown from the Interior."

"Oh!" said Henry. "I've heard of him. The one in all the penny-papers." The steward paused a moment. "You related?"

"No. My name's got an 'e' on the end. Anyway. Silas brought the gem back and sold it to a local merchant. The merchant was fairly discreet, but one of the porters blabbed and it got all over town; a unique gemstone, big as two fists, pale and milky that glows like a lantern. Apparently Thorn got it from some strange tribe in the jungles of the Interior. Porter wouldn't say much more, and died shortly after. Atop that, more than a few people noticed that Thorn's party was a good deal smaller than it had been going out, just the porter and Thorn himself returning. The adventurer wouldn't talk, just got on the next steamship back to the western lands."

The first mate paused to chew more toast. "Now after all that, everyone was quite a bit curious. All sorts of things are being hauled out of the Yulan jungles, knickknacks of the old Voorn race and suchlike. A completely new type of gemstone had everyone's interest. Thing was, though, the merchant? Became all reclusive. Wouldn't see anyone. But midnight one eve, he was suddenly in the streets, running about like mad and babbling nonsense. Fell over stone dead in front of a constable."

Lucian paused to sip from a mug of freshwater. "That hardly sounds like a curse," muttered Fengel.

Henry raised an eyebrow at him. "That sounds
exactly
like a curse, Captain."

"Hold up," said Lucian. "Our tale isn't finished yet. Listen to this. Our constable, he picks up the gemstone right? Being a sensible and opportunistic sort, he gives it as a gift to his girlfriend. Well, that girl has a lover on the side, and ends up passing the gem to
him
, only that man's the Major of the local Royal Marine contingent. Lover policeman finds out, kills the girl, and then gets promptly done in by our boy in the Service. The Major's accused of murder, but he's got pull— and quite a handsome bribe for the Breachtown Governor." Lucian chuckled. "It didn't do him much good. Apparently his dead girl was riddled with syphilis and the Major was shortly committed to a local sanitarium. That's pretty much the end of him. But the Governor now...he was quite taken with his new prize. Held a week of events, galas, masquerades, etcetera, just to show it off. Incidentally, that's also how our stone got its name. But I digress. It was at about this time that our Governor began to make some very, very poor policy decisions. Such as announcing the sovereignty of Breachtown from the Kingdom of Perinault."

Fengel stared. Henry's jaw dropped open.

"Is he
insane
?" whispered Henry.

"Even with the war in Salomca," said Fengel, "there is no way the King would stand for that. And especially not the Prince. There would be dreadnoughts off the shore of the Colony as soon as they could sail there. Why haven't I heard of this?"

"Fresh news, sir," said Lucian. "And our tale isn't quite over yet. The Marine contingent was leaderless, and easily overcome. The Governor sent them packing back in a merchant ship. However, not everyone sat well with these events. His secretary, a fellow by the name of Joshua Vrey, decided to set things aright. He rallied the militia, deposed the Governor, and restored order. Then, hoping to make amends, he got in touch with the first Naval vessel to make port, our very own
H.M.S. Albatross
. Joshua fills her holds with gold, silver, and rarer things as an apology to the King, with the Lantern thrown in as well. Then sends her homewards, hoping that she'll be able to beat the Marines back to the Kingdom. Two days ago, an aetherite working in Breachtown, who is also in the employ of our very dear Mr. Grey, divines that she's wrecked, in the mouth of the barely-known Silverpenny River. Which is completely the wrong direction from Edrus, I might add."