The Last Canticle: Summoner's Dirge (20 page)

“And what do I get if I do? What could be so important that you need to head home?”

“We don’t have much money, but we can work to pay our way. Does our friendship not give me enough standing?” Balin asked.

Zephyr glanced at Damir. He gave a rakish smile. “Well, I’m sure there are other ways to pay.”

Damir stiffened.

“Stop it, Zephyr,” Israel snapped. “You will make no such bargains, and you know it.”

Zephyr quickly deflated like the wind had been sucked out of his sails. He nodded and scratched his neck.

“Aye, all right. We’ve nowhere to be, but you’ll be working while you’re on my ship. No man gets free passage. And I’ll be hearing the reason why you need to go. I won’t fly blindly into chaos.”

Israel shook his head and turned to Damir. “Ignore him. He just likes to play with people’s minds. He meant no harm.”

Israel put a gloved hand on Damir’s shoulders, his fingers brushing against the scarf around Damir’s neck, drawing his attention. Warmth filtered into the medicus’s violet eyes. Damir nodded and shot Zephyr a wary glance.

Balin leaned back in his chair. “Fair enough.”

“For now, we drink. It’s been far too long since we’ve seen one another to fill our reunion with discussions of tribulations,” Zephyr said.

“There is never a good time to talk such serious matters when it comes to you,” Ramiro retorted.

Zephyr scoffed indignantly and ignored his first mate. Damir pulled away from Israel. The man’s eyes bore a level of understanding that terrified him. He pushed away from the table.

“I think I’ll retire for the night.”

Balin looked up at him. “You’re heading to the room? But you’ve barely eaten. Damir, you need to conserve your strength.”

“I’m tired. I’ll leave you to your friends.” He glanced at Israel, who gave him a somber look. The cuff that lined his ear twinkled in the firelight.

“Then I shall join you.” Balin moved to stand.

“No, I wish to be alone.” The brief, pained look that crossed Balin’s gaze twisted Damir’s gut. He hated the chasm that was between them. “Please,” Damir pleaded. “Just enjoy your friends.”

Balin hesitated and then lowered himself back down. Damir let out a small sigh of relief and turned away.

Damir didn’t look to see if Balin watched him. He leaned against the door when he returned to their room and shut his eyes. Even though he hadn’t touched his dinner, it felt as if a fish bone was stuck in his throat. He swallowed thickly.

Moonlight spilled over the wooden floor. Damir pushed away from the door and unwound his scarf. Piece by piece he pulled his clothes off, shed them like shackles. Rays spilled from his skin. He glanced at the copper tub. Small tendrils of steam still rose.

Might as well not let the water go to waste.

* * * *

Damir bundled up in his cloak and scarf and met Balin downstairs for a quick breakfast before they left for the air stadium. He didn’t know when Balin had come in the night before. After his bath, he’d climbed into bed and drifted into another fitful sleep. At some point, his nightmares had mellowed into dark flickers behind his eyelids. When he woke, Balin had already been gone.

Balin had been freshly groomed and clean when Damir found him after leaving their room, so he assumed Balin had called for more water when he’d returned last night. Once fast was broken and their bellies full, Balin and Damir took the dray horse and wagon to Market Street and sold them for one hundred sil. Where they were going, they didn’t need the horse or the wagon.

“Zephyr is waiting at the air stadium. He said he’ll have Israel waiting for us out front,” Balin announced as they walked on foot.

“Can we trust this man? This Zephyr?” Damir asked as he shifted the weight of his bag on his shoulder.

“He is a good man. A bit crass, but good. His loyalty is for life.”

Damir frowned. “He’s a sky pirate.”

“And I am an assassin,” Balin replied.

Damir hesitated in his stride. He watched Balin pensively for a moment before saying under his breath, “That you are.”

He had traded his humble life for one among murderers and thieves—and he wished to join their ranks in some ways. What did that say of him? Had he already not stained his own hands with blood during his transformation? He shivered at the memory of bone crushed beneath mighty claw. It had been like stepping on a twig in mud, squishy and hard all at once, so very fragile.

Balin walked ahead of Damir, his expression schooled into an emotionless mask. Damir picked up his pace so he could walk alongside Balin and kept to himself the rest of the way.

It did not matter what it took to get where they needed to be. As long as Damir could right Elina’s death, he did not care.

Israel waited outside the air stadium. He was dressed primly in a pair of fitted black breeches, a white blouse with cuffed lace sleeves that spilled over black leather gloves and a silver double-breasted vest, and a bloodred cravat tied around his neck. He met them halfway. A welcoming smile spread across his lovely face.

“Do you have everything you need? There won’t be another stop until we arrive at Terrasolis. So if you need anything, now would be the time to get it.”

They were already armed and had sold everything they didn’t need. Balin shook his head and gestured toward the stadium. “There is nothing left for us here in this city.”

“If you are sure, then we shall go.”

Israel headed into the stadium. They followed behind. Damir kept his head down as they passed a group of soldiers. Israel paid them no heed and walked through the gates to where the airships were docked.

The docks were much like the harbor. Piers extended from various catwalks in the dome. They all were filled with ships of various sizes and purposes. Damir had never been this close to an airship. He had seen them in the distance as they cut across the sky, but never within reach of touching one. He was dizzy with excitement.

Elina would love this. The thought was sobering. Damir closed his eyes and paused for a moment. Balin stopped in midstep and turned to him.

“Are you all right?”

It took Damir a moment to gain control of his vocal cords. He swallowed down his anguish. “Yes,” came out rather hoarse.

Balin waited for Damir to catch up before continuing on. Israel led them to one of the farthest aisles where a metal giant slumbered.

“This is
Bahamut
,” Israel said with a grand, proud sweep of his arm.

Damir gazed up at the ship. He had never seen one quite like it before.
Bahamut
was a mechanical two-headed dragon, an elegantly designed ship that could tear through cloud and sky. Its hull was black as obsidian and embellished with lines and swirls of mithril and radiant blue, the color of freshly brewed storms. At the rear of the ship was a giant ring that resembled a frozen flame.

“Wow,” Damir murmured.

“Come on. Let’s go inside.” Israel led them up the boarding ramp.

Damir followed closely behind Balin. Israel led them down the upper hanger and to an elevator, saying along the way, “Zephyr wants to meet in the cockpit. Once we’re in the air, I’ll show you two around, though I think you already know your way about
Bahamut
, Balin.”

“He does?”

Balin nodded. “I’ve ridden the skies with Zephyr before.”

What else don’t I know about you?
Damir’s stomach churned. He tried to focus on his surroundings and not the gnawing feeling of dread and misery he felt building in his gut.

They gathered in the round elevator. Israel hit a button. As they were carried down, he said, “There are three levels to the
Bahamut
, counting the deck. All can be accessed via the elevator.”

The elevator doors swooshed open. Israel stepped off. He seemed to move with elegant lightness, his lithe body floating over the floor. Damir wouldn’t have been surprised to find that the man had been a dancer in a previous life.

Israel led them to a set of double doors that opened automatically when they approached. From the cockpit, Damir could see the busy air stadium through the glass dome at the bow of the ship. Zephyr stood beside the pilot’s seat where a woman sat. The pilot’s seat was in a lowered level of the cockpit, suspended over the strong glass. The woman’s auburn hair was braided down one side, and a pair of brass goggles rested on the top of her head.

“That’s everyone,” Israel announced.

Zephyr glanced over at them and nodded. “Good. Then we’ll take off. Cessna, start her up.”

Cessna clicked a few buttons, and the hum of life sounded through the cockpit. Israel moved to stand beside Zephyr. They watched as Cessna taxied beside the port and waited for clearance. Once the light flashed, she shot the ship into the sky.

Damir felt his stomach lift and drop all at once. He grabbed ahold of Balin’s arm to steady himself, a small gasp escaping him.

BALIN SMILED AND reached out to rest a hand on Damir’s hip. The feel of Damir pressed against his side sent a lightning bolt through his body. How he missed having Damir’s body flush against his own.

No one said anything as they climbed the heavens. Damir didn’t comment as Balin held him close.

When the ship leveled out at altitude, Damir broke away, his cheeks hot.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

Balin nodded. “Anytime.”

Zephyr left Cessna’s side and returned to the upper deck where Damir stood. He was dressed again in a rumpled outfit, the vest frayed, the bandana faded. He grinned.

“Good to see you two ladies hadn’t chickened out.”

“Excuse me?” Cessna snapped from where she sat. She craned her head around and glared at Zephyr.

Zephyr winced.”Sorry, Ces.”

She scoffed and returned to piloting
Bahamut
. Israel stood behind Zephyr. “Shall we try this again, this time without insulting anyone?”

Balin rolled his eyes, stifling a knowing grin. Zephyr rubbed the back of his neck.

“Okay. Well, that’s Cessna over there. You’ll meet everyone else later. My crew isn’t large, but it’s the best damn crew Zoria has ever seen. We’re heading to Eyrie, the capital of Terrasolis, correct?”

“Yes,” Balin said.

“As long as the weather stays clear, it should only be a day’s trip,” Zephyr announced.

“Let me show you where you can stay for the night. Then you can go down to the engine room, Balin, and help Lazarus,” Israel said.

“What would you like me to do?” Damir asked.

“You can help me.” Israel smiled. He turned and gave Zephyr’s hand a small squeeze. “Behave yourself, understood?”

“I’m always good!” Zephyr called behind Israel as he walked out.

“You’re about as good as a cat locked in a room filled with mice,” Israel yelled in return. The doors closed behind him.

ISRAEL LED DAMIR and Balin into a circular room that with three accessible doors. At the center of the room was a small alcove sectioned off by a circular couch. Israel pointed to a large double door at the opposite end of the one they entered.

“That leads to the engine room. To the east is the captain’s wing. The west is the one you’ll be staying in. That’s where everyone bunks.”

“How many people are on the ship?” Damir asked. He felt overwhelmed by
Bahamut
, unable to decide where to look first.

“In total? Eight,” Israel replied. They entered the west door, which was a long hall with six doors. “Allen was kicked into Pyxis’s room, so you’ll both be staying in Allen’s room.”

Israel opened the first door on the right. The room was a single with a full-size bed, shoved to the side, and a wooden desk. Maps and sketches were pasted all over the walls, and from the porthole window, Damir could make out clouds skimming by the ship. Damir walked over to the window and pressed his fingers to the glass. His breath hitched at the magnificence just beyond the glass pane.

“I’ll be in the engine room, then,” Balin announced.

Damir turned to watch him unload his bags. Balin hovered by the door, opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it instead and simply shook his head. Damir watched him go, sadness weighing him down. Israel waited until Balin was gone.

“Shall we go?”

Damir set his own things down on the floor. He hesitated, his hand hovering over his bag. Israel patiently stood at the door and waited for Damir to gather himself. He ran his fingers over the urn that stuck out of his bag. He wished putting his soul back together was as easy as putting away his belongings. When Damir finally turned to face him, Israel smiled and left the room. Damir followed.

Together they walked down the hall and to the elevator. Next to the elevator was an emergency ladder. Israel and Damir took the elevator to the second level.

“The clinic, mess hall, storage, and bridge are on this level. You can also access the west and east cannons,” Israel explained as he headed down a hallway. Damir saw a sign that said CLINIC and pointed the way they were going.

Damir nodded to show he was listening, though he was half-distracted by the wonderful scent of roasting pig. He wanted to go up on deck and watch the clouds as they moved beneath the ship like a white ocean. He wanted to watch the aether ring turn and catch the sun. Maybe if he touched the sky, he could forget his sadness, forget the pain.

Israel walked into the clinic and turned to face him. Damir stopped abruptly, almost running into him. Israel’s gaze held a level of awareness that left Damir feeling exposed, as if the medicus could see all that lay within his soul.

“You seem troubled. Tell me, what is it that brings you here?” Israel asked.

Damir didn’t know how to answer. He licked his lips. “S-surely Balin explained to you last night why we head for Terrasolis.”

“He did, but that does not tell me what brings
you
here,” Israel replied. He plucked his glasses from his nose and brandished a kerchief from his pocket. He cleaned the lens of his glasses as he watched Damir.

Israel’s eyes seemed even brighter when not hidden away. They were a unique color of nightshade. Damir found them haunting. It was as if time existed solely in Israel’s stare. History and night came together in the hue of crushed flower petals and severity; his eyes were as gorgeous and cruel as they were kind and gentle. Israel finished cleaning his glasses and placed them on his nose.