Starfinder: A Novel of the Skylords (11 page)

But of course it was not enough, and as he lay next to her, Fiona could hear the pleading rumbling of Moth’s stomach.

“Sorry,” he said, putting a hand over his belly.

Fiona tried not to think about food. Their supplies, which seemed so ample the day before, had dwindled quickly. “Pretend you had a big meal. Pretend you’re so full you’d get sick if you ate another bite.”

“How am I supposed to make myself believe that?” said Moth. “We’ll find some food along the way tomorrow, don’t worry. We just haven’t been looking for it, that’s all. This place is bound to be loaded with good stuff to eat. Maybe we’ll catch some fish.”

“Don’t mention fish, please,” said Fiona. A picture of the mermaid bloomed in her mind. Why had it frightened her so much?

“I hope we see her again,” said Moth. His voice was almost dreamy.

Fiona didn’t turn her head, afraid to see that look in his eyes, the kind of look that said he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life as that mermaid. “We won’t,” she told him. “She’s afraid of us. She’s probably told her whole family about us by now. We’ll be lucky if they don’t crawl up on shore and strangle us while we’re sleeping.”

“Mermaids don’t do that,” Moth scolded. “Really, Fiona, sometimes . . .”

But he didn’t finish his sentence. He just grumbled and went back to looking at the stars. They were altogether different here in this world, and not just because they were brighter. They were mixed up and jumbled, like someone had shaken them in a box and strewn them across the sky. Fiona had given up trying to locate the few constellations she knew back home. Suddenly, everything perplexed her.

“When I was little,” she whispered, “my mother used to take me outside at night and show me the stars. I used to want to touch them, so my mother would pick me up and lift me as high as she could. She’d tell me to stretch out my hand. ‘Stretch, Fiona!’ ”

Moth asked with a chuckle, “Is that how you got so tall?”

“I really thought I could catch a star. She used to tell me that someday I’d be big enough to reach up and grab them for myself.” Fiona’s smile faded. It should have been a happy memory, but it wasn’t. “Why do parents lie to their kids like that?” she wondered.

“They didn’t lie, Fiona. Parents don’t lie.”

“Yes, they do. Mine told me they’d come back. But they went up in that airship and died.” Finally, she turned to face Moth. “What did your mother tell you when she was sick? Did she tell you she was going to die?”

Moth’s face puckered. “No. She told me she’d be all right.”

“See?” Fiona went back to stargazing. Then, another thought came to her. “Why do you think he’s up there?” she asked.

“Who?”

“Merceron. Why does he have a constellation? Only dead people have constellations named after them. Fake people.”

“Hmm, I’ve been thinking about that myself,” said Moth. He shifted his body as if uncomfortable. “We can ask him when we meet him.”

“When do you think we’ll meet him?” asked Fiona.

“Tomorrow, probably.” Moth nodded at his own prediction. “Yeah. Tomorrow definitely.”

Fiona blinked up at the sky. “All right,” she said, trying to sound courageous. “Tomorrow, then.”

FROM THE WINDOW of Governor Rendor’s office, Skyhigh enjoyed an impressive, peaceful view of Calio. Now that night had fallen he could see the lights of the city blinking over the garden wall. The white buildings of the newer section glowed softly, standing like distant statues against the greenery. A row of ash trees blocked the older portions of the city from sight, a tactic Skyhigh knew was deliberate. The mansion was far too beautiful to be marred by the sight of poor folks.

Skyhigh moved away from the window, anxious for his meeting with Rendor. He’d been held in the mansion all day, kept from leaving or speaking to anyone beyond the servants. He’d even been given his own comfortable bedroom—a luxury for a Skyknight used to bunking with so many others. He’d been fed and given clean clothes, too, but to his great surprise he hadn’t been questioned about Fiona’s disappearance.

Finally, after Skyhigh had been entertaining himself as best he could and was on the verge of maddening boredom, the manservant named Jonathan had come to escort him to Rendor’s office.

“The Governor will be with you shortly,” Jonathan had assured him.

That was nearly an hour ago.

Near the full-length window sat Rendor’s enormous desk, turned out to face anyone coming into the room. Behind the desk sat a big chair of lime-colored leather. Knowing he shouldn’t, Skyhigh plopped down into the chair. With his hands gripping the big armrests, he surveyed the office like a king. All manner of books and bric-a-brac lined the wooden shelves. Tiny sundials, time pieces, and devices of dubious scientific value caught Skyhigh’s eye. On the desk sat an orrery, a small, moving model simulating the movement of the planets, each of them represented by silver balls. The toy fascinated Skyhigh. He flicked his finger at one of the balls, sending it spinning around the sun.

“Comfortable?” boomed a sudden voice.

Skyhigh looked up into the face of Governor Rendor, standing in the doorway.

“Yes,” he replied without a trace of embarrassment.

The air between them was charged with tension. Skyhigh rose from the chair to face his captor. He had seen the governor before, but only from a distance. Rendor was a notorious recluse, but he was also a genius, the father of the flying age. Skyhigh couldn’t help but admire him. Rendor was dressed impeccably in a black frock coat and trousers, the silver chain of a pocket watch drooped across his belly. A salt-and-pepper beard hid his unexpressive lips. When he spoke his voice was toneless.

“My granddaughter is gone,” he said.

Skyhigh stepped around the vast desk. “If you’re so worried about her, maybe you should have talked to me sooner.”

Rendor stalked into the chamber, toward a sideboard where his liquors were kept. “Please don’t be offended, Captain, but my time has been devoted to men of greater stature than your own.” He popped the top from a crystal decanter of brandy, pouring himself a glass. “The other governors have gone now, thank heavens. Now I can touch on this matter of my granddaughter. Would you like a drink, Captain?”

“No,” said Skyhigh. “Just some answers.”

“We all want answers, Captain,” said Rendor with a grin. “Life is full of mysteries.” Glass in hand, he walked over to a pair of chairs by the unlit hearth. Between the chairs was a small table of varnished wood, on top of which sat a cigar box. “For instance, I’m wondering why my granddaughter would run off with a cleaning boy.”

“Governor, I had nothing to do with Fiona’s leaving,” said Skyhigh.

Rendor sat down and sniffed at his brandy “I already know where Fiona’s gone, Captain. She and that boy Moth . . .” He looked up from his drink. “A friend of yours, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” declared Skyhigh. “He is.”

“That boy is a thief.” Rendor gestured to the vacant chair. “Sit.”

Skyhigh bristled at the order. “If you know where they are, why don’t you go after them?

“Because they’ve gone through the Reach.”

“Have they?”

“You know they have,” said Rendor. “But that’s not why I brought you here. Now . . .” Once again he motioned to the chair. “Will you please sit down?”

This time Skyhigh did as requested. He couldn’t help but feel intrigued. For two days he had puzzled over Leroux’s mystery gift. Now at last he might get some answers.

“Before you start questioning me,” he said, “you should know that I won’t betray the children. All I care about is helping them.”

Rendor suddenly laughed. “That girl! She paints me as quite a monster, doesn’t she? Go on, then—protect her from me, Captain. Keep your secrets. Whatever my granddaughter and the boy have told you is meaningless anyway. Neither of them have any idea what’s going on.”

The old man opened the mahogany box and chose a cigar. From the pocket of his waistcoat he produced an exquisite gold lighter, lit the cigar, and drew in a puff of sweet smelling smoke. His eyes closed with enjoyment; his brow wrinkled with thought.

“Have you seen the
Avatar
?” he asked.

Skyhigh nodded. “Yes,” he replied. “I’ve seen her. Why?”

“What do you think of her? The truth, Captain. What do you really think of her?”

“She’s marvelous,” Skyhigh admitted. “Is that why you brought the other governors here? To show them the
Avatar
?”

“Partially. But there was something else I wanted to show them as well. Something that once belonged to your friend Leroux.” Rendor held the cigar smoke in his mouth, tasting it. “Do you know to what I’m referring?”

“No, I don’t,” said Skyhigh, because he truly had no idea what Leroux’s gift had been. Now, it seemed, Moth had found it.

“The boy didn’t speak to you about it?” Rendor pressed.

Skyhigh didn’t blink. “No. Never.”

Rendor smiled. “I don’t believe you, Captain Coralin. Whatever you think of me, it will go better for both of them if you tell me what you know. It might make it easier to find them.”

“Find them?”

“Of course. The boy has taken something that belongs to me. Now I have to get it back.” Behind the veil of cigar smoke, Rendor’s eyes were searching. “Skyhigh,” he said, testing the name. “Maybe we’re not so different. Both of us dream of flying with the birds. Only I’m too old to pilot a dragonfly. It’s airships for me, but it’s not the same.”

For a moment the tension between them disappeared. Rendor actually looked sad.

“But you’ve been up there with the birds, the clouds,” said Skyhigh. “You know what it’s like. It can’t really be described.”

“Truly, the world’s a different place from up there,” agreed Rendor. “It is mankind’s birthright to fly. I’ve always believed that. I tell you, Captain, we are born to it, like the birds themselves. Why else would God put such a desire in the hearts of men? Children look up at the sky and they want wings. They want to touch the face of God.”

“Yes,” Skyhigh sighed. “That’s how it was for me. I was fifteen when I saw my first dragonfly at an exhibition. You used to run those, remember?”

Rendor’s face lit up. “There were always lots of children at those shows.”

“That’s the first time I ever saw you,” Skyhigh confessed. “I thought
you
were God then. Nothing else mattered to me after that. All I wanted to do was fly.”

“Major Hark says you’re his best pilot,” said Rendor. “Brash, he told me, but a natural talent. It takes a natural talent to control a dragonfly. Not everyone can master it.”

“I have,” said Skyhigh. “There aren’t many things I do well, but I can fly the hell out of a dragonfly.”

“Good,” Rendor observed. “Now you’re being honest with me. I think this will work.”

“What?” asked Skyhigh. “What will work?”

Rendor put down his cigar on the edge of the table, so that the ashes were just about to fall on the carpet. “Moth and my granddaughter have gone through the Reach. I wonder—have you any comprehension of what that means?”

“Not really. I know that it’s forbidden . . .”

“Forbidden, yes, and for good reason. By going through the Reach they risk the ire of the Skylords.”

Skyhigh held back a laugh. “The Skylords again? Governor, that fairy tale might frighten people back in Capital City, but not me.”

With a face like thunder, Rendor said, “I didn’t bring you here for your opinions, Captain. Your opinion of the Skylords is as dust to me.”

“Why
did
you bring me here?” snapped Skyhigh. “You kept me waiting for two days while you wined and dined your friends. And now you’re gushing on about flying while Moth and Fiona are in trouble. I would have thought you’d show a little more interest in your granddaughter, instead of complaining about what you say Moth stole from you.”

“And you claim to know nothing about what he stole! Do you expect me to believe that?”

“Governor, it doesn’t matter to me what you believe.” Skyhigh stood up, determined to leave. “All I care about is those kids, even if you don’t. Now, either charge me with a crime or let me get out of here.”

Rendor rose from his chair, picked up his cigar, and walked over to the window. “Captain, I need your help.”

“My help? You’re kidding, right?”

“We’re going after them,” said Rendor. “You, me, and the crew of the
Avatar
. We’re going through the Reach. We’re taking a scout ship, too. And the best pilot I can find.” The old man puffed on his cigar. “That’s you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but . . .” Skyhigh groped for an explanation. “Why?”

“Captain, haven’t you been listening?” asked Rendor. He turned from the window with a frown. “To get back what’s mine.”

THEIR TINY FIRE HAD LONG died out by the time Moth and Fiona fell asleep. In the nook by the river, Moth felt safe enough to dream. They were good dreams, mostly, about his birthday and Leroux, and how he’d never cared about the Reach before his troubles started. He awoke briefly to find Fiona sleeping next to him. Lady Esme had tucked herself against Fiona to keep both of them warm. Seeing them put a tired smile on Moth’s face as he drifted back to sleep.

It might have been a minute later or an hour—Moth couldn’t tell—when he awoke to the sound of crunching branches. Supposing it an animal, he opened his eyes expecting to see a looming tiger or bear. He held his breath, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, and saw the outline of a man standing over him.

Moth gasped and scrambled back, startling Fiona awake. Her scream sent Esme flying.

“No!” hushed the man. A finger shot to his lips. “Quiet!”

Moth and Fiona staggered to their feet. Head swimming, Moth peered through the darkness as he grabbed Fiona’s hand. “Who are you?” he demanded. “We’re not alone. If you harm us . . .”