Pirate and King, chapter five

5

They were after a prince, not a drow, and Kaazin knew it. In that moment when a flock of silent, blood-red justiciars stepped from their gates to surround all the others, he called upon Shadow to hide himself and (grudgingly) the pirate as well. If his blood was suspect, her crimes and her link to the slain former emperor made Tess a dangerous liability. Better to leave, quick and quiet, then to be swept up in an imperial net.

Magic was scarcer, now. Harder to wield, but he did it anyhow, first concealing then raising himself and Tess from that cracked and smoldering plaza. Acrid dark smoke wreathed the airship, which hung at anchor above. Wrapped in darkness, Kaazin and his "partner" drifted back up to the Flying Cloud.

"I wasn't in danger!" snapped Tess, once they'd touched down on solid wood planking and tarnished brass. "If they locked me up, I would've just left them this body and had Stormy make me another one! Besides, they still owe me twelve million!"

She planted both translucent fists on her polished hips with a bright, ringing chime. Tessa's expressions might be tough to read, but her body language left no doubt whatever as to her feelings. 'Petulant child' came to mind, but he didn't say so. Just,

"Things have changed. We're going to have to conserve manna or fly after storms and hope for the best."

...and Kaazin had long ago stopped trusting to hope and promises. As for the gods, they'd never been more than an obstacle. Their loss meant nothing to Kaazin except a more even hunting ground. Who would the day-walker turn to, now?

'Weigh anchor?' inquired the Cloud inside of their minds. Kaazin shrugged. Made little difference to him, but Tess stamped her foot on the open main deck. Her childish gesture sent assorted spirits swirling away through the planks, making that haunted surface buckle and warp. Finally, though,

"Yes. Fine, Stormy! Weigh anchor. We'll figure something out to make them pay up... since there's a prince aboard!" Tess whirled to scowl at Kaazin, transparently. "You didn't tell me you were a royal!" she accused.

He hadn't known, and still wasn't sure what to do about it, having found out. As the Cloud's engines rumbled to half-power, and its massive anchor chains clanked slowly upward, Kaazin turned to the rail, took hold with one hand, and then shrugged.

"There's been an adjustment," he said to the girl. Glanced down at the plaza (now seeming crazily tilted by the airship's ascent). Shook his head and added, "I came here to track and kill Bonesetter, but there were some details about his actions that I wasn't privy to. He's not safe... but he's won a reprieve while I think, and while you steal your money."

The glass pirate hesitated. Then, shifting her stance with the slanted deck, she allowed,

"Our money, Drow. Half that reward is yours, and Stormy made you the quartermaster. Guess I'm stuck with you."

Kaazin grunted.

"I do nothing from sentiment, Mortal," he said, watching idly as a pack of tilted justiciars closed on his spinning and shrinking relatives. "My life to this point has been honed for vengeance. That may have altered. I'm not sure... but I'm also not trustworthy. I deal with the world as I have been dealt with, and I do not make 'friends'."

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Tess snorted rudely through glass lungs and a crystalline nose.

"Neither do I. The gods didn't answer when mum and da and my baby brother were killed, or when the pirates all had their way with me after they captured our ship. But everyone else is dead now, and the Cloud is mine. Yours, too, I guess, because Stormy don't take to just anyone."

More drek that he hadn't the skills to deal with. Kaazin changed the subject instead of replying, jerking his chin at an imperial dreadnought that was lifting away from its mooring tower.

"We are being followed, or someone else needs to leave town as badly as we do," he remarked. "Interesting, in any case."

Three someones. Another dreadnought, and now a cutter like the one he'd deserted to come aboard the Flying Cloud. Tess scowled harder.

"Stormy, get us some distance and find a place to lie up. If they're after us, we'll get them first. If they're running, I wanna know why, and how much their heads 're worth on the open market."

'Aye, Tess,' responded the Cloud. That sleek, sentient airship acknowledged no captain, but it was fond of the girl, having slain its entire crew to save her life. Not her health, though. Tess put a glassy hand to her transparent head, rubbing a little. The effect was prismatic, tinkling like windchimes. Fading manna and changes in altitude were rough for one still recovering from an eater. Kaazin studied her as the airship banked high over Karellon.

"Your head hurts," he observed. "You should return to your body and rest."

Like it or not, he'd learned a few things from Bonesetter. Like healing and killing and turning his back. Kaazin had driven a deadly magical parasite out of Tess with spells and surgery, but she was still very weak.

"Your condition will not improve if you strain yourself, Mortal."

Tess muttered a weary, reflexive curse, consigning him to brutal, eternal use in the underworld.

"You too," he replied, wasting manna to banish her consciousness back to her own sickly body. "And likely, you first."

The glass pirate stiffened, becoming no more than a beautiful statue as Tessa's mind returned to its shivering, bandaged home. Good riddance, he thought. Meanwhile, the Flying Cloud lifted all three of its masts, raising canvas and rolling the manna tanks back into position for power and speed.

'We are not being pursued, Quartermaster,' said the Cloud, its voice shivery light as a cobweb brushing his face. 'Those active vessels are spraying the city with fire-bane. The rest have now cast off to do the same. Orders?'

The pirate ship was hidden in smoke, but that wouldn't last. Too much wind, and now interference from below. Well, there was more than one way to stay out of sight. Kaazin reached around to rub at the back of his own neck, working at tense, knotted muscle.

"As the mortal commanded, we hide. Bring us up to a safer altitude and keep me advised of the fleet's doings. If anyone cuts and runs, we follow."

'Aye, Quartermaster.' Then, 'You require sustenance,' said the airship, already moving. Kaazin steadied the empty glass figure beside him by placing a hand on its smooth, chilly shoulder. The homunculus wouldn't shatter if it fell to the deck, but it might dent the planking or slide overboard. No sense wasting resources or going hungry.

One of the ghosts drifted up with a corroded tray. Poor fare, but edible, so Kaazin stowed the empty glass pirate (locking her in, for sheer mischief). Next, he took a seat on the binnacle box to eat and drink. Mostly, he liked his food still struggling, not served from a can, but the pasty stuff kept him going, spread onto hardtack. The ale wasn't stolen, but it quenched his thirst anyhow. And his revenge?

That was another matter, entirely. Kaazin ate mechanically as he worked out what to do next, high over a desolate, burning city. Rescue, slay or abandon: those were his options. All that remained of a short and bitter existence.