Starfinder: A Novel of the Skylords (6 page)

“Moth, go easy. Leroux? I just saw him last night.”

“This morning,” Moth explained. “He must have died in his sleep. When I woke up he was in bed, just lying there.” Moth took hold of Skyhigh’s arm again and pulled him toward the wall of the hangar, out of sight. “I went and got the doctor. After that I went up to Mrs. Jilla’s. When I got back to the apartment Fiona’s grandfather was there! There were men with him, and they were ripping up everything—the walls, the floors. Then Governor Rendor came out and wanted to know about Lady Esme. He said the apartment belongs to the government now. All our stuff!”

Over Skyhigh’s shoulder, the black spot from the east came steadily closer. Moth could hear a distant thrumming as it approached. Skyhigh shook his head in confusion.

“Why would the Governor take your home?” he wondered aloud. Then he looked at Moth, his eyes filled with sympathy. “Leroux . . . Moth, I’m sorry.”

There hadn’t been time for Moth to grieve. There still wasn’t. “Skyhigh, I think Fiona’s grandfather might be after me. He’s looking for Lady Esme. Maybe he thinks I have her.”

“Do you?”

“No! She must have flown off somewhere before Rendor got there.”

“He’s not just looking for Esme, Moth. If he’s ripping up the walls . . .”

“And the floors and the furniture!”

Skyhigh’s eyes flicked toward the approaching black mass. Moth realized it was an airship, bigger than any he’d seen before, with two engines suspended from its superstructure and fins along its tail, swept back like a shark’s.

“The
Avatar
,” pronounced Skyhigh.

Moth’s mouth fell open. He had heard about the
Avatar
, the newest airship in the fleet. She had taken her maiden flight less than a month ago, setting a record from the yards at Kerre to Capital City. But the
Avatar
wasn’t a passenger vessel. Rendor himself had designed her. With armored flanks and platforms filled with guns, she was the world’s first lighter-than-air warship.

“That’s why Rendor called the other Governors here—to show them the
Avatar
,” Moth guessed. “You think?”

“Don’t know. But I’m supposed to be flying escort for her. I gotta get up there, Moth. Quick.”

“Skyhigh, I don’t know where to go,” said Moth. “I have to hide. I have to talk to Fiona, see if she knows anything. I can’t let Rendor find me.”

Eager to get to his dragonfly, Skyhigh puzzled over the problem. “All right,” he mused. “You can’t stay here. And you can’t go back to the apartment.”

Moth looked at him anxiously. “Where, then?”

A light flickered in Skyhigh’s eyes. “I know a place.” His voice dipped to a whisper. “The barn.”

“That rusty old place?”

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” said Skyhigh. “No one goes there ever. I know, because that’s where I go when I want some privacy. There’s even blankets there already.”

Moth’s nose wrinkled at the thought. The “barn” as they called it wasn’t a barn at all, but an abandoned hangar from the old days of the aerodrome. It had quickly grown obsolete, unable to house the newer, larger airships or to take the pounding of winters on the mountain. It was also set back from the rest of the aerodrome.

“Maybe,” said Moth. “You’re sure no one goes there?”

“Trust me, nobody’s ever bothered me up there.” Skyhigh gave a wink to show his meaning. Not surprisingly, he was popular with Calio’s ladies. “Use the west side door,” he told Moth. “It looks rusted shut but it’s not. When you get inside you’ll see a little loft for storing supplies. That’s where the blankets are. There’s some candles up there, too.” Once more he glanced at the approaching
Avatar
. The ship was clearly visible now, stalking toward the city like a thunderhead. “Listen to me, Moth. You wait there in the barn for me. I’ll get there as soon as I can but you wait, got it?”

Moth nodded. “Yes.”

“Don’t stick your head out or come looking for me. I’ll find out what I can from Fiona and be there as soon as I’m able. I’ll bring you some food, too.”

“All right,” Moth agreed, but his stomach pitched with apprehension. “I’ll wait for you.”

Skyhigh smiled, putting his hand on Moth’s slight shoulder. “We’ll fix this. Just stay safe until I get there.”

MOTH WAITED UNTIL the sun was down before lighting his first candle. The supplies Skyhigh had promised him were exactly as described, tucked into a small loft overlooking the floor of the hangar. Moth struck the wooden match against the wall, then touched the flame to the candle wick. The soft light illuminated the countless motes of dust floating around him. From his place in the loft he could see crates of unused parts and the cobwebby skeletons of broken-down aircraft. Outside, a breeze flexed the metal walls of the hangar.

Reaching the barn had been easy. No one had seen Moth leave the aerodrome, crossing over the south side of the field to where the old hangar stood apart like a lonely, rusted farmhouse. Once inside, he had discovered the loft with ease.

Then, he waited.

An unseen draft made the flame on his candle dance. Moth’s stomach rumbled with hunger. In the echoing space of the hangar the noise sounded ridiculously loud. It had been hours since he’d eaten, but his mind wasn’t on food. Skyhigh would bring food, but no one could bring back Leroux. Without wanting to, Moth realized that his life had suddenly collapsed.

“All alone . . .”

Unable to bear his own thoughts, Moth retrieved the candle and descended the wooden ladder down to the hangar’s floor. Every manner of discarded junk surrounded him. Dusty boxes lined the walls and unused piles of aircraft parts tottered in rusty heaps. Most of it wasn’t worthy of attention, until he discovered a particular mound pushed into a corner and covered by a sooty white tarp. Moth held up his candle for a better look. The bent nose of the thing stuck out from its covering.

“A dragonfly . . . ?”

Eagerly he pulled off the tarp, revealing the broken-down craft beneath. Only three of its four wings were still attached, all of them cracked. The engine was gone completely, and the front landing claws had collapsed so that the whole ship sloped forward. There was no canopy either, just a cramped cockpit of worn-out fabric, but the control sticks and instruments remained.

“Beautiful,” Moth whispered, running his hand over the craft. She was younger than she looked, but the damp air of the hangar hadn’t been kind to her, nor had the dozens of pilots that had probably trained in her. She was first generation, too, and Rendor’s designs had improved a lot over the years.

Moth leaned over the cockpit, about to climb in, when he heard a noise at the other end of the hangar. He held his breath. Finally, the sweet sound of his own name lilted across the darkness.

“Moth? Where are you?”

“I’m here,” Moth called, moving toward the voice with his outstretched candle. The light from the flame reached across the hangar, falling on the worried faces of Skyhigh and Fiona.

“Moth!” Fiona cried. She ran to him with arms out wide, nearly toppling his candle. Melted wax burned his fingers, but he was too happy to care.

“You’re here,” he sighed.

She held on to him. “Poor Leroux. Oh, Moth . . .”

A knot tied itself in Moth’s throat. “Yeah,” he croaked. He didn’t want to cry, not in front of Skyhigh. “I can’t believe it.”

Skyhigh came out of the darkness with a box in his hands. “We brought food,” he said, holding it out for Moth’s inspection. “You all right so far? Any trouble?”

“No, nothing,” said Moth. “It’s been quiet.” He looked at them both. “What about you? You hear anything?”

“Let’s go up to the loft,” said Skyhigh. “You can eat while we talk.”

He stepped past Moth and headed for the ladder. Fiona looked at Moth helplessly.

“Moth,” she said, “Skyhigh told me what happened. I want to help.”

“It’s your grandfather, Fiona. Did he say anything to you?”

Fiona blanched. “He’s already looking for me.”

Skyhigh was already halfway up the ladder. “C’mon!”

Moth and Fiona followed him, climbing the wooden rungs up to the dusty loft. The candle in Moth’s grip nearly went out as he climbed, one-handed, before giving it over to Fiona. As Skyhigh spread out the blanket, Fiona tipped the melted wax out of the candle and onto the ledge. Gently she set the candle into the wax, blowing on it until it hardened.

“There’s some meat pies, some apples, some cheese . . .” Skyhigh announced each item as he unpacked the box. “And water. Here . . .”

He handed a battered canteen to Moth, who quickly unscrewed the cap. The one thing he really wanted was a drink. He took a long, thirsty pull of the water, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Together they sat cross-legged on the blanket, staring at each other in the candlelight.

“Thanks,” said Moth, but he felt embarrassed suddenly, like one of those vagabonds that sometimes crawled off the train from Medona. The pity in Fiona’s face made it even worse. “Are they looking for me?” he asked flatly.

Skyhigh hesitated, as though he didn’t want to answer. “Some of Rendor’s men came to the aerodrome. They’re asking questions about you, Moth. Hark pointed them in my direction. Idiot.”

Moth’s stomach somersaulted. “What’d you tell them?”

“What do you think I told them? I said I haven’t seen you and I don’t know where you’d run off to. Made it sound like I was real worried about you, too.”

Fiona nodded. “I told my grandfather the same thing. He came looking for me at dinnertime. I don’t think he believed me, though.”

“He’ll be keeping an eye on Fiona, you can bet on that,” said Skyhigh.

“You sure you weren’t followed?” asked Moth.

“I snuck out of the mansion. No way anyone saw me,” Fiona said confidently.

“Fiona, you shouldn’t have come,” Moth told her, annoyed at the risk she had taken. “Once your grandfather knows you’re gone he’ll be looking for you, too.”

Skyhigh shot a glare at Fiona. “Yeah, that’s what I told her, but she wouldn’t listen.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not going back anyway.”

Moth reared back in surprise. Skyhigh just rolled his eyes.

“Fiona, you have to go back,” said Moth. “You can’t stay here with me.”

“Yes I can,” insisted Fiona. Her face hardened like candy brittle. “My grandfather’s putrid and I’m not going back to him, not after what he’s done.”

“Stop,” said Skyhigh, putting up his hands. “First we have to figure out what’s been going on.”

Fiona smouldered at the interruption. “He took Moth’s home, Skyhigh.”

“But why?” Skyhigh countered. “That’s what really matters here.”

“Fiona, don’t you have some idea why?” Moth asked pleadingly. “Why would your grandfather be searching our place? Why’s he taking everything?”

“He doesn’t want
everything
you have, Moth,” said Skyhigh. “Just something in particular.”

“But we don’t have anything! You’ve seen our place. All Leroux had was that stupid bird, and now she’s gone too.”

Skyhigh took one of the meat pies and broke it in half, handing part of it to Moth. He chomped down on the other half, saying, “And what about that bird, huh? Why’s he looking for her?”

Moth had asked himself the same question a thousand times. “I don’t know. Maybe . . .” He stopped himself.

Skyhigh kept on chewing. “What?”

“It’s stupid. Just something Leroux told me last night. But it’s crazy.”

“Go on and say it,” urged Fiona.

“It was just one of his stories. And it was the middle of the night. He woke me up to tell me that Lady Esme isn’t really a bird. He said she’s really a woman from across the Reach.”

Skyhigh took a hard swallow of pie. “That really is a story!”

“See? It’s dumb.” Moth finally bit into his food. “He was feverish. I should have run out to get the doctor but I didn’t. Maybe if I had he’d still be alive.”

“Forget that,” said Skyhigh sharply. “Leroux was old. No one could have helped him. Go on with what you were saying—Lady Esme?”

“Leroux said he had a gift for me. I thought his silly story was the gift, but now I’m not sure what he meant. He wanted me to help Lady Esme get back to normal.” Retelling the tale frustrated Moth. “He said he met her over in the Reach and that they fell in love, but then she got turned into a bird.”

“Sounds to me like he knew he was going to die,” said Fiona. “See, Moth? You couldn’t have saved him.”

Skyhigh steered the conversation back again. “What else did he say? What else about the gift?”

“Nothing! That’s the worst part. He said it was all some secret that he couldn’t tell me.”

Skyhigh smirked. “I’ve heard Leroux tell stories. He was never shy about giving details. That was one long-winded old man. If he said he couldn’t tell you something, he probably meant it.”

“But none of it makes sense,” said Moth.

Fiona’s face scrunched up as she recalled, “Last night when I had dinner with my grandfather, he asked about Leroux. He must have heard he was sick. He wanted to know how he was feeling.”

“He asked you that?” said Moth. “Why?”

“It’s all the same thing,” Skyhigh surmised. “He wants something. That gift, whatever it is. The kestrel, too. It’s all tied up together. Fiona, did Rendor ever ask you about Leroux before last night? Did he ever mention him?”

“I don’t think so,” said Fiona. She twirled her red hair around a finger as she thought. “But my grandfather was an Eldrin Knight. Maybe they knew each other.”

Moth gasped. “When your grandfather was at my house—he said that! He told me that Leroux was a great man. I forgot that until now.”

“And Leroux never mentioned Rendor to you?” asked Skyhigh. “Ever talk about him coming to Calio, becoming Governor, anything like that?”

Moth’s mind was a jumble, difficult to untangle. “He talked so much it’s hard to remember. He might have said something about Rendor once, I dunno.”