it’s even an issue who it belongs to, yes? I’d suggest we work together on that since we’re all stuck here anyway.”
Ercan and I look at each other. Again, I think I could do worse.
“I’m good,” I say.
Ercan looks away, and then nods slowly. “For now,” he says. “If this is at all what Fehris believes it to be…”
“It is,” Fehris said. “Have I been wrong before?”
“…Then the Akarii won’t let it go lightly. We need to move pretty quickly.”
“They might think it’s just another recovered ship,” Mircada says. “Wouldn’t it be easier for them to dig out another?”
Ercan considers that. “Maybe," he says. "But we need to assume the worst."
“What, exactly, do you think this ship is?” I ask.
Fehris looks at Ercan, who shakes his head. Fehris says “What do you think it is, Hulgliev?”
“ My ship.” I grin my innocent grin again.
I see Ercan’s eyes widen.
And then, without warning, he throws back his head and barks three loud noises that I think are meant to be a laugh. I can see all the gold caps on his back teeth.
“I think that I might like you some day, devil,” he says. “I think that I just might.” He holds out his hand to me.
“I’m really highly likable,” I say, mostly to Mircada. “Once you get to know me. Ask Kjat.”
The three of them look at Kjat who, startled, looks back at them with her pale violet eyes that clearly want to be anywhere else at this moment. “Um, yeah,” she says, sheathing her knife slowly. “I’ve heard that all the dogs of the Warrens are particular fans.”
The Kerul group look puzzled, but I can’t help laughing out loud. Then I take Ercan’s hand, pigment myself back to my normal grey-brown, and I let them think we have a plan together.
8.
O utside, the ship isn’t pretty. Mircada and I walk around it, assessing damage.
While it’s nose-down in the lake, most of it is still on shore, and the impact of the fighting, the storm, and the landing is pretty clear. Long scorch lines from the Grohmn spheres blacken the hull, dents and gouges have battered the smooth lines. The rear hatch door must have been ripped off, and a series of cracks stretch outward from each impact of the Retriever cannons. Much of the finish looks like it’s been scoured away by the storm.
Now it’s looking more like something I’d actually own. Though it’s nowhere close to mine. Even if the Kerul weren't here, it's Capone who's paid my way out here.
“Mircada tiKerul,” she says, shaking hands. All the bracelets on her arms jangle. “Kerul’s fourth line, if that means anything to you.” It doesn’t.
“Blackwell,” I say. “Just Blackwell.”
Mircada and I walk away from the ship, out through the cover of snow. She’s trying to figure me out, I think. Me? I’m looking for corpse roads. The Tilhtinoran continent is supposed to be rich with them, and I’m keeping my claws crossed.
And, all right. I’m looking at Mircada too. Probably more than I should be.
Earth has countries. Kiryth has families. Earthers might call them gangs, but they're really much more than that. Families are houses, guilds, corporations, and governments rolled into one. They employ you, sell you things you need to live, feed you, entertain you, and bury you when you’re dead. Kerul is one of the big ones, like the Akarii. It’s supposed to be one of the better ones to deal with, if you have to deal with any of them directly. I’m not political, really, but you learn some things on the streets of Tamaranth. The Akarii are driven, direct, and vicious. Politics are fierce, assassinations are common, often carried out by poison, to the point that if a mid-level Akarii family operative dies, I’m not sure anyone would take notice. The Akarii hold sway over a number of other families, most of them on the far eastern continents, but it’s hard for me to keep track of all of the alliances, and to be honest it doesn’t make any real
Ercan and I look at each other. Again, I think I could do worse.
“I’m good,” I say.
Ercan looks away, and then nods slowly. “For now,” he says. “If this is at all what Fehris believes it to be…”
“It is,” Fehris said. “Have I been wrong before?”
“…Then the Akarii won’t let it go lightly. We need to move pretty quickly.”
“They might think it’s just another recovered ship,” Mircada says. “Wouldn’t it be easier for them to dig out another?”
Ercan considers that. “Maybe," he says. "But we need to assume the worst."
“What, exactly, do you think this ship is?” I ask.
Fehris looks at Ercan, who shakes his head. Fehris says “What do you think it is, Hulgliev?”
“ My ship.” I grin my innocent grin again.
I see Ercan’s eyes widen.
And then, without warning, he throws back his head and barks three loud noises that I think are meant to be a laugh. I can see all the gold caps on his back teeth.
“I think that I might like you some day, devil,” he says. “I think that I just might.” He holds out his hand to me.
“I’m really highly likable,” I say, mostly to Mircada. “Once you get to know me. Ask Kjat.”
The three of them look at Kjat who, startled, looks back at them with her pale violet eyes that clearly want to be anywhere else at this moment. “Um, yeah,” she says, sheathing her knife slowly. “I’ve heard that all the dogs of the Warrens are particular fans.”
The Kerul group look puzzled, but I can’t help laughing out loud. Then I take Ercan’s hand, pigment myself back to my normal grey-brown, and I let them think we have a plan together.
8.
O utside, the ship isn’t pretty. Mircada and I walk around it, assessing damage.
While it’s nose-down in the lake, most of it is still on shore, and the impact of the fighting, the storm, and the landing is pretty clear. Long scorch lines from the Grohmn spheres blacken the hull, dents and gouges have battered the smooth lines. The rear hatch door must have been ripped off, and a series of cracks stretch outward from each impact of the Retriever cannons. Much of the finish looks like it’s been scoured away by the storm.
Now it’s looking more like something I’d actually own. Though it’s nowhere close to mine. Even if the Kerul weren't here, it's Capone who's paid my way out here.
“Mircada tiKerul,” she says, shaking hands. All the bracelets on her arms jangle. “Kerul’s fourth line, if that means anything to you.” It doesn’t.
“Blackwell,” I say. “Just Blackwell.”
Mircada and I walk away from the ship, out through the cover of snow. She’s trying to figure me out, I think. Me? I’m looking for corpse roads. The Tilhtinoran continent is supposed to be rich with them, and I’m keeping my claws crossed.
And, all right. I’m looking at Mircada too. Probably more than I should be.
Earth has countries. Kiryth has families. Earthers might call them gangs, but they're really much more than that. Families are houses, guilds, corporations, and governments rolled into one. They employ you, sell you things you need to live, feed you, entertain you, and bury you when you’re dead. Kerul is one of the big ones, like the Akarii. It’s supposed to be one of the better ones to deal with, if you have to deal with any of them directly. I’m not political, really, but you learn some things on the streets of Tamaranth. The Akarii are driven, direct, and vicious. Politics are fierce, assassinations are common, often carried out by poison, to the point that if a mid-level Akarii family operative dies, I’m not sure anyone would take notice. The Akarii hold sway over a number of other families, most of them on the far eastern continents, but it’s hard for me to keep track of all of the alliances, and to be honest it doesn’t make any real
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