The Wind Merchant (21 page)

In the distance, they heard glass shattering and more shouting coming from the direction of the library.
 

“We should probably just wait it out at Flint’s,” Callie said, disappointment hanging heavy on her voice.

“No, we don’t have to.” Ras took the hat off and gave it back to her. “Looks better on you,” he said, “besides, there might be people waiting for us at Flint’s now. Worse comes to worst, we’ll sneak onboard and steal the ship back. Either way, I don’t want to spend my day in one place afraid we’re going to be found,” Ras said.

Callie attempted a smile, but failed. “Why don’t we check out the shop your dad used to bring you back pocket watches from?”

“That’d be nice.”

They walked along a sidewalk far enough away from the library that things seemed peaceful once again.

“Help me!” The cry pierced the calm.

Down the alley to their left, three figures brawled, or more correctly, two large men kept a small woman from escaping by throwing her against the nearby dumpster.

CHAPTER TEN

The Piper

“I’m sorry!” the young woman cried. “I don’t have anything else.” She whimpered as one of the thugs shook her violently by her collar before throwing her to the ground.

Ras watched for a brief moment before he changed his course and made a direct line toward the scuffle. “Wait here,” he said over his shoulder.

“But, I—” Callie sputtered as Ras left.

Ras walked along the right edge of the alley as quietly as he could so as not to be noticed by the two men. One held a wrench ready to strike the woman, while the other, a balding man with a mustache, grabbed her.

“Anyone?” she cried desperately. The woman looked to maybe be all of five feet tall and had shockingly white short messy hair. Her frame made a large boom as the mustached man slammed her hard into the dumpster again. She let out an involuntary cry when she hit. Her lip was already bleeding and she was wide-eyed with panic.

She slumped to the ground as the mustached man let her go. She noticed Ras approaching but tried not to make it obvious by turning her attention back to the two men. “Can I just say one thing?”

“Wot?” the mustached man said with a grunt. He heard footsteps quickly approaching and turned to see a blur sprinting toward him, but before he had time to react, the blur had already wrapped its arms around his waist, planting a shoulder into his rib cage. The two crumpled to the ground with a hard thud followed by a sickening crack. “Harris!” he shouted before focusing on sucking in air and cradling his ribcage.

Ras stood, catching his bearings just in time to duck out of the way of a large wrench aimed at his head. “Go!” Ras shouted to the young woman.
 

She stood, but instead of running, she placed a swift booted kick to the mustached man’s midsection, expelling what air he had collected in the finest curse he knew.

Ras flung himself at Harris in an attempt to wrestle the large wrench away, but recognized too late that it was a trick and quickly found himself flipped over the thug’s shoulder, landing squarely on his back. Ras looked up to see the wrench swinging down and rolled out of the way just in time for the wrench to strike pavement instead of skull.

Spinning on the ground, Ras solidly planted his heel into Harris’ shin, eliciting a scream of pain. He could see the small woman digging around in the jacket pockets of the mustached man but didn’t have time to wonder what she was doing.

Ras tried to evade Harris’ next swing by rolling out of the way, but he went the wrong direction, planting himself into the side of the dumpster and halting his escape. With nowhere to go, the wrench connected hard with Ras’ left arm. He cried out in pain as the big man reached back to swing again.

“Ras!” Callie called out.

He heard a clattering sound grow louder as a metal pipe rolled down the alley, stopping against his leg. Ras dove to collect it and avoided the next swing of the wrench.

Picking up the pipe, Ras swung low at Harris, connecting with his leg. Harris faltered from the blow and fell to one knee. Ras took the opportunity to jump onto Harris’ back and pressed the pipe against the man’s throat.

Harris flailed wildly in an attempt to remove Ras and swung the wrench over his shoulder like an oversized flyswatter, almost connecting with Ras’ head. The wrench instead slammed into Ras’ shoulder. He winced but pulled the pipe even tighter, and Harris collapsed into a heap before he could swing the wrench again.

Ras looked up to see the mustached man down for the count as well. He shakily came to his feet, looking for Callie, who stood fifteen feet away, clutching her books.

“Are you all right?” she asked Ras.

Before he could respond, the small white-haired woman stood up from behind the dumpster and launched herself at him.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She wrapped her arms around him, then put her hands on the sides of his face, stood on her toes, and kissed him full on the lips. “You saved me! Oh, I could kiss you! Wait, I just did. I’m sorry, I just got caught up in the moment,” she said rapidly with an almost childlike voice.

She released his face, freeing Ras to touch his lips, still in shock. He felt a slight stickiness and pulled his hand away to see a bit of the woman’s blood.

Callie unclenched her jaw before speaking. “What happened here?”

The sprite-like woman turned on her heel to face Callie. “Oh, not just here, about half a dozen of them attacked me in the library. These two were just the most persistent.” She leaned over, grabbed the wrench from Harris’ hand, and offered it to Ras with a deep bow. “A trophy to commemorate your great victory and to remember the day you saved Dixie Piper!”
 

Ras hesitantly accepted the makeshift weapon.

Dixie offered her hand next. “People call me Dix, Dixie, Pip, Pipe, or Piper, and I hate all but two of those, so choose wisely.” She winked.

“Ras. Pleasure,” he said, still a bit shaken from the wrench strikes. He took her hand and gave a nod.

“Pleasure. Say, can we not be here when these two wake up?” Dixie asked, pointing a finger and oscillating it between the two men.

“So the library was you?” Callie asked.

“Indirectly,” Dixie said, chagrined. “Again, may I stress the importance of not remaining here?”

“Yeah, we should…we should go,” Ras said, still a bit stunned. He shoved the wrench under his belt and began to walk back toward the alley entrance. He looked over to see Dixie walking quickly to keep pace.

She was clad in tight-fitting, gray pants draped with a couple belts over her slender waist, a white shirt marred with a few drops of blood, and a fashionably-cut purple leather jacket.

“Why were they attacking you?” Ras asked.

“Oh, them? They don’t like me,” Dixie said dismissively.

“Any reason in particular?” Callie asked.

“I kinda got their boss put in jail,” she said. “Sky pirates. Hate ‘em. You two aren’t pirates, are you? Of course not, you don’t look the type. Besides, sky pirates don’t help people in alleys that are about to get killed.” The speed with which she spoke dizzied Ras.

“Ah, Dixie? Sorry to interrupt your conversation, but do we need to get you to somewhere safe?” Ras asked.

“Me?” she asked. “I am somewhere safe. I’m with you,” she said with a winning smile. They made it back to the sidewalk outside of the alley. “And I dare say that I owe you something of a favor.”

“That’s not necessary, I was just trying to help,” Ras said.

“And you succeeded, so now I’m trying and hopefully I’ll succeed as well. Are you from
Derailleur
?” she asked.

“Do we look that out of place?” Ras asked, keeping an eye out for more flyers.

“Oh, no, no, no, not that. Just most people aren’t from here, and I am something of an immensely talented tour guide if there’s anything you’re looking for,” Dixie said.

“What happened in the library?” Callie asked unsympathetically.

“Ah, yeah, that. Well, one of them grabbed me from behind so I kicked off a bookshelf to break free…which worked, but then I started climbing a shelf and when they grabbed me by the ankles to pull me down…book avalanche.” She made a sound with her mouth to replicate an explosion. “And mass destruction. Might as well cut up my library card, huh?”

“Do you know of any pocket watch shops?” Ras asked to pull the subject away from Callie’s ire.

Dixie lit up. “Ooh! A request! Excellent. Let’s see…pocket watches, pocket clocks…there’s Crimens, Badger & Fount’s, The Gear Outlet, Orville’s, The Golden Calendar—”

“Wait,” Ras said. “The Orville one. Where’s that?”

“That’s about two miles away. Bit of a walk,” Dixie said. “Back on 8th and Holloway.”

Ras looked at his watch. “We have time.”

Dixie stopped walking and almost caused Ras and Callie to pile into her. “Let’s just take my skiff!”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want to impose,” Callie said.

“No, really! Stay right here and give me ten minutes. I’ll swing by in the channel.” She was off and lost to the crowd almost instantly.

Ras and Callie stood awkwardly for about a minute. “What if she sees your wanted poster?” Callie asked.

“I don’t think she’s big enough to drag me into a police station,” he said. “You know, unless she drives us there unwittingly while telling us we’re heading to a pocket watch shop…” Ras trailed off. “We should probably go.”

“Good call,” Callie said as she fished out the map.

“My dad used to tell me about how it was a clock shop with no ticking,” Ras said. “They started the watch when you bought it. It was like starting a moment, but my dad would always bring me watches that hadn’t been started and ask me what I wanted most. We’d wind the watch together and he’d tell me if I worked hard, it’d just be a matter of time before it was mine.”

“That was sweet of him,” Callie said, her demeanor finally softening to the usual state.

“Yeah, but life doesn’t exactly work like that.”

“No, but having a father who encourages you goes a long way,” she said as she pulled out the map. “C’mon, we can at least see if she wasn’t lying about Orville’s being on 8
th
and Holloway. You can tell me on the way what little Ras wanted most.” She put her arm through his and they began walking.

Telling her what he wanted most would make for a long and awkward trip across Atmo if she didn’t reciprocate the feeling. “I’m afraid I can’t,” he said. “It doesn’t come true if you tell anyone.”

“That’s birthday candles and shooting stars. You already said all it takes is time.” She nudged him and all he could smell was the intoxicating scent of strawberries and vanilla. “You just don’t want to say.”

“I think a boy is entitled to his secrets,” Ras said. “What about you? Any falling star wishes you never told me about?”

“I always wished I would leave the basement and see the world, but that’s not a secret.” She looked up at him with her perfect blue eyes. “You want to know a secret?”

“Sure.”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“That’s how secrets work, I hear.”

“Well,” she began, “if anyone was to kidnap me, I’m glad it was you.”

It was the nicest, strangest compliment Ras had ever received. “You’ve been a perfectly pleasant prisoner. No annoying escape attempts, no running to police. You’ve really made my first kidnapping a positive experience,” he said, laughing. “You know, my arm really hurts.”

“It was a rather large wrench…Do you think it’s broken?”

“No. But, I’ve seriously got to start taking better care of this arm.” He lifted his left shoulder, wincing.

“You’ve got to start taking better care of
you
.”

“I don’t do that well, do I?” he asked.

“It’s not one of your stronger suits, no.”

It took them almost an hour to find Orville’s, as 8th and Holloway held three different vertical levels. Orville’s was on the bottom level, which was a small mercy; at least they wouldn’t be out in the open.

A clock face comprised the O in Orville’s sign, which wasn’t terribly clever, but gave any passerby a clear idea of what to expect inside. 
 

Callie opened wide one of the shop’s ornate brass doors, sweeping a hand with great ceremony.

“Oh, stop it,” Ras said. “It’s just a—wow.” Ras’ eyes went wide as he passed through the threshold. The thirty foot tall walls appeared to consist entirely of clocks. Hundreds upon hundreds of devices hung so densely packed that the walls only peeked out in various places where a purchased clock had not yet been replaced. But, just as Elias had described, there was absolutely no ticking, which Ras found both eerie and fascinating.

The showroom held glass displays full of watches, pocket clocks, and other assorted geared items with tiny price tags attached.

“This place is incredible,” Callie said, her fingers lightly brushing a display.

The sound of winding and a faint ticking noise drew their attention to a balding man standing behind the counter. His thick glasses gave his face a pinched appearance. Smiling, he placed the newly wound watch in a velvet box for the customer in front of him. “I’m sure she’ll love it. I wish you both luck,” he said.

Ras watched the only other customer in the store pass by with his new purchase before the door chime marked his exit. The large room once again fell silent until the man behind the counter called out. “How can I help you, young sir?”

“Are you Orville?” Ras asked, and was met with a nod. “My father always told me about your shop, so I thought I’d see it for myself.”

“I’m pleased you did,” Orville said. “May I ask your father’s name? I have a rather encyclopedic memory.”

Ras approached Orville’s counter. “It’s been a while since he shopped here.”

“Hold on, you look familiar,” he said. “Do you take after your father?”

“He doesn’t think so,” Callie said, “but he’s wrong.”

“Hmm. Give me a moment.” He studied Ras’ face carefully.  “Are you wearing a Parkman 51 with a brown leather strap on your left wrist?”

Ras pulled back his jacket sleeve, revealing the watch, which looked small for his arm. The inappropriate size wasn’t enough to have discontinued use of the last birthday present from his father.