Chenda and the Airship Brofman (21 page)

“Did you know about this?” Captain Endicott barked.

Fenimore never took his eyes off the horizon. “If you mean Verdu ditching us, then yes, I knew that was coming.”

“Stop him,” He ordered. Captain Endicott no longer shouted, but the wind blew his words back to where Chenda squatted. She felt like this conversation was one she wasn't invited to hear, but she couldn't seem to make her feet carry her elsewhere.

Fenimore scoffed. “I don't know if I could if I wanted to. Verdu's a big boy.  He listened to what Chenda and Candice had to say, and he's made
his
choice. It's pretty tempting, I suppose, the chance to change one's circumstances.”

The captain roared again. “Are you thinking about jumping ship, too? What about that vegetable you've been taking responsibility for? Who's going to see to his care if you go off and get lost in the far side of the world? After all I've done for you both, you're going to leave me high and dry!?!”

Fenimore kept his voice calm and said, “Captain, I love you like a father. I know
exactly
what you've done for me, and I live in a world of gratitude for that. But I have a choice to make, and I haven't decided yet what I am going to do. I don't really understand what Chenda is looking for, and I shudder to imagine what may happen to those women once they get into the Empire, but go they will – no matter what I say or do. It's beyond reason, but Chenda believes wholeheartedly that Verdu and I must go as well. He will. I may. When I decide, I will be sure to let you know in short order, sir.”

“Fine. FINE!” Endicott turned and stomped away from the bow. As he passed the wheelhouse, he spied Chenda squatting behind the mooring coil.

“YOU!” he barked, pointing his finger. Chenda cringed as Captain Endicott turned his anger toward her. “I called in some very expensive favors to get you what you needed. I felt sorry for you, and you repay me by taking the best part of my crew? I
never
should have taken this job!”

He stormed off and down the stairs before Chenda could stir up a response, his curses and growls floating up the stairs for the wind to whip away. She sat stunned. It was never Chenda's intention to cause this kind of strife. She ran down the stairs to Candice's cabin and pounded on the door. The Captain's furious ranting spilled out of the galley interspersed with Kingston's calm and soothing voice, the exact words of which Chenda couldn't quite make out.

As soon as Candice opened her door, Chenda shoved her way inside. There was barely enough room for the two women to stand together. “Oh, Candice, I think I've made a mess of things.” Chenda teetered on the verge of tears. Candice cleared the various notebooks and maps off of her narrow bed and guided Chenda to sit down on the thin mattress.

“What's happened? I can hear Max barking from here.”

“Verdu's told him that he's leaving with us, and that perhaps Fenimore is, too. He's pretty angry with me for breaking up his well oiled machine. Honestly, I don't blame him. My quest is pulling away his most seasoned crew.”

Candice harrumphed. “Oh, no you don't, missy! Don't you feel guilty for the choices of those two men, or the tantrum from their captain. He can fly this ship all by himself if he has to. He just likes having his boys around him!” She threw her various papers into a satchel on the small folding table, gathered herself up to her full yet meager height and marched out the door into the passageway.

A moment later, Chenda heard the captain halt in mid tirade. His rant was replaced by the sizzle of Candice's annoyed voice. Chenda was honestly afraid to follow Candice, not knowing whose bark was worse, the captain's or the professor's. She waited.

After a few minutes the captain knocked on Candice's open door. He looked at Chenda cowering on the bed. “It has come to my attention that I have been rather rude to you just recently. Please forgive me.” He coughed nervously then said, “I think I will retire to my quarters.”

With that, he crossed the passage to his own cabin and slammed the door.

Candice appeared in the doorway, her face showing annoyance and her voice muttering chastisements. “...as if he was some king or father over those boys, indeed!” She looked up at Chenda and said, “Quit cowering in my bed, missy. I have work to do - as do you. Scat!” She flapped her hands at Chenda as the young woman escaped into the corridor. The professor snorted in Chenda's direction and then slammed the door.

“Thank you,” Chenda said into the sudden silence around her. She turned and continued down the passageway to the galley. The smell of hot food and the sound of Verdu's soothing song met her as she stepped into the room.

He sat with his back to the world, joyfully singing a Tugrulian song. Without saying a word, Kingston handed Chenda a steaming bowl of chicken with dumplings and pointed to the table. Chenda pulled out the chair next to Verdu and he suddenly stopped.

“Oh! Don't stop, that was lovely!” she chimed. “I could use a beautiful song right now.”

Verdu looked slightly embarrassed, “No, maybe another time – that song was just about finished anyway.”

“OK, then, continue my education. What was that song about?” She held the soup bowl under her chin, letting it warm her cold hands and face. She blew on the stew, waiting for the next stories from Verdu, but none came. “What is it?” she said. Verdu scooted his spoon around his own empty bowl, wishing he had something to put in his mouth so he could delay.

Chenda plunked her bowl on the table and gave Verdu's elbow a playful shove. “So, you're willing to belt out your song with great bliss, but aren't willing to tell me what it means?” she said.

Verdu hid his eyes. “Yes. It's just that this is another of those forbidden songs.”

“Well, now I just have to know,” she said. “Please?”

Verdu caved. “The song is about the Pramuc, the one who comes to free the people. Loosely translated, it says something like, ‘We are who we were, we will be ourselves again. The false god and the king are no match, for we wait for the Pramuc, the one who comes to save us. The holy one, raised by holy ones, commands the world and all its parts. The ones who follow will lead the way. The land will jolt and we will throw off the yoke. We will rise from the emptiness of the caves and reclaim the lands, the daughters will flow in the water, sons will fly in the air. Mothers will harvest from the land and fathers will tame the fire. And the Empire will be no more. We will be ourselves again when the Pramuc comes.' ”

Verdu looked timidly at Chenda, fearing her response. But Chenda only looked puzzled. She couldn't understand why he had seemed reluctant to tell her about this song. The lyrics didn't seem particularly revealing or embarrassing to her. In fact, they hardly made sense. Chenda knit her eyebrows in concentration.

“So, I don't get it. What does that mean?”

The answer came from behind her. “It means not everyone in the Empire is a good Tugrulian.” Fenimore snapped. “It's superstitious nonsense.”

“It's prophecy.” Verdu corrected in a soft tone. Sitting between them, Chenda could feel the tension between the two men.

“It's why he's going with you,” Fenimore growled, answering more to Verdu than to Chenda. “Isn't it? He thinks you are going to fulfill the prophecy and free his people.” He leaned forward and pointed an accusing finger at Verdu. “She's just a girl. Don't get yourself killed over this mumbo-jumbo. Since when are you a believer, anyway?!?”

“Wait a second,” Chenda cut in, her eyes focused on Verdu. “You think I fulfill some kind of prophecy? You think I am this... Pramuc?”

Verdu looked timid. “It's possible,” he whispered. “I'm not saying I believe; I'm just saying it
could
be. You possess the stones, and that's a start.”

Chenda sat with her mouth open. Shock didn't even begin to describe what she felt. It would have been less bizarre if Verdu had accused her of being a rutabaga. “I think you are rather mistaken,” Chenda whispered.

Verdu stood, his body mirroring Fenimore's, and he look sweetly down at Chenda. “Don't close yourself to it, dear lady.” He stepped around the table and positioned himself between Chenda and Fenimore, his posture suddenly defensive.

Fenimore roared. “You're going to get her killed with this talk. She's in enough trouble already; you don't need to weigh her down with this, too. It's insanity and you know it!”

The two men moved as one, the space between them disappeared and they crashed into one another in the center of the room. Each grabbed the other by the shirtfront. Fenimore gave Verdu a single, violent shake. “Don't twist her destiny to suit yourself.”

Verdu arched his back in rage. “If you weren't such a coward,
you
would ply your fate to
ours
.” He thrust his head forward, and with a mighty crack, impacted Fenimore's forehead with his own. Fenimore staggered back, releasing Verdu.

Chenda jumped between the two of them, a hand to each of their chests. “Stop!” she shouted. Verdu took half a step back like a dog called to heel, separating himself from her touch. Fenimore grabbed Chenda by the wrist and pulled her closer to himself. Verdu snarled, “Take your hands off her!”

Fenimore looked into Chenda's eyes and said, “Don't let
him
get you killed.” He let her go, half shoving her back toward Verdu as he retreated out the door and down the passageway.

Verdu chased after him, anger clear in his eyes. Chenda reached toward his retreating back, but was too late. The shock of what had happened left her speechless. She turned to face an equally shocked Kingston, who stood motionless with a dripping ladle in his hand.

“Better let those two work it out on their own, Chenda.” Kingston said. “There's more between them than you can guess, and you don't want any part of it. Certainly, you won't want to get stuck in the middle.”

“I think perhaps I already am,” she said sadly and she slumped down in her chair. “Captain Endicott is mad at me, the professor thinks I'm a marshmallow for not standing up to the captain, and those two are fighting over me because I want them both to come along on my witless expedition. I'm some kind of curse, Kingston.”

The stout cook wiped his hands on his apron and put a comforting arm around her shoulder.  “I don't know about that,” he said. “So there's a wee bit of struggle rounding the ship tonight. It will pass. Other than that, Mrs. Frost, how did you like the stew?”

Chenda laughed at Kingston's culinary vanity until she snorted. Then she put her head down on the table and cried. He patted her back and cleared the dishes from the table while Chenda sobbed. “They won't be mad long, you will see,” he assured her. “They'll be thick as thieves again by morning. You will see. There, there, sweet baby.”

She retreated to the crew quarters and her bed. She felt like every life she touched recently had fallen into upheaval. She slouched onto the floor, resting her back against the beam that separated the two columns of bunks. She stretched her left arm out onto Fenimore's bunk, and her right onto Verdu's, sadly feeling the emptiness of each. She let her hands fall to her sides.

Kingston said that the men would work out their differences, but he wasn't standing between them in that tense moment. He didn't see the hateful glint in Fenimore's eye, or the resolve in Verdu. Chenda felt crushed in their impasse, paralyzed by the gravity it created.

Tomorrow, the day they would rendezvous with the
Tjalk
, the day she, Verdu and Candice would part company with the
Brofman
, raced toward her. She despaired. Chenda had never felt as safe as she did here, even through the barking and bickering. This company of rough men, kind in spirit, were the fathers she had never known and the brothers she never had. Is this what it meant to have a family? The thought of leaving made her shudder. The
Brofman
, more than any other place, felt like home.

She slumped onto the floor, her tears already flowing. Chenda rolled into the narrow slot that was her bunk, her own little, borrowed slice of the
Brofman
, her home. The tight space embraced her. There, in the grasp of the airship she loved deeply, she cried herself into a deep and dreamless sleep.

When she opened her eyes, she was in darkness. How long had she slept, she wondered. She rolled onto her back, bringing her shoulders off the mattress and out onto the floor slightly. Chenda looked up at the other bunks. Almost all were full, and Fenimore was in his place just above her. By Chenda's reckoning, it must be some time before four o'clock. She scooted her torso back onto her mattress and tried to go back to sleep. She failed.

She thought about how unwilling she was to leave things so spoiled between herself and Fenimore. She brushed her palm along the smooth boards of the bunk above her.

Oh, how I need to talk with you, Fenimore,
she thought.
We must work this through, because I can't leave this kind of pain in my wake.

She sighed as she finished one last stroke. Fenimore's left hand fell over the edge of his bed and reached over to grasp Chenda's. His rough fingers captured her right hand before she could drop it back to her side. His hand was warm, and he laced his fingers into hers, just holding her hand in the air for a minute, his thumb making small strokes in her palm. She heard the brush of his face on the pillow as he pulled his head to the edge of the bunk and whispered down to her “I'm glad you're awake. Let's talk somewhere.”