Read Online Pirate Sun by Karl Schroeder - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Karl Schroeder
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hesitation. She had even bartered with pirates for the lives of Chaison’s crew.
Still, she would have had to escape Candesce after the outage, and evade the roving ships of Gehellen, a nation that had put a price on all the Slipstreamers’ heads.
Was she languishing in some Gehellenite prison right now? It was a thought he’d managed to avoid all these months, but now he couldn’t shake it.
He rolled onto his side and levered himself upright, then wobbled to his feet.
“Ah!” Antaea emerged from the suite’s small privy. He blinked at her in surprise.
She had changed into a colorful silk blouse and loose pants, and a big pair of round sunglasses covered her gigantic eyes. After her flying leathers, this was an unexpectedly feminine look.
“Where did you get that?”
Antaea cocked her head. “From my luggage. You should buy a knapsack, you know. You’ll be conspicuous traveling without it.”
He looked down at the drab day-laborer’s clothes he’d acquired at the farm: toeless boots, stovepipe canvas pants of dull gray, and a sleeveless suede shirt. There were several pouches attached to the belt; all were currently empty.
He struggled to shake off his depression. “Money,” he said slowly. “And personal effects and…official papers, I suppose.” What did they use in Falcon? He vaguely knew that it was a monumentally bureaucratic state where you needed a passport to go to the bathroom.
Antaea was holding out something: a sheaf of just such papers. “Already done,” she said. “I’ve been up for hours. I thought you needed your sleep.”
“I did, thanks.” A little annoyed at himself for letting her get so far ahead of him, he took the papers, examined them, then slid them into one of the pouches. “Denarian. What kind of name is that?”
“It’s our family name, husband, don’t forget it,” she said with a grin. “Do you feel up to a walk up the street?”
He eyed the door. This hostel was at about a quarter of a gravity, but even that made the exit seem miles distant. But, though gray, the light welling in from outside was full daylight. If he was supposed to have business in this town it would be suspicious if he kept to his room.
“We need papers for my men too,” he said. “Where did you get those, by the way?” He took a cautious step toward the door.
“My contact,” she said. Her cool fingers wrapped around his bicep to steady him. “The same one I got the wings from. We’re going to see him, actually—just as soon as we find the ambassador.”
She assumed she was setting the agenda; well, let her—for now. Then he realized what she’d just said. “Richard? You can’t find him?…That means you did find Darius.”
“ He was waiting where he was supposed to be,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Richard had risen even earlier than I, and staggered out the door somewhere. He’s probably lying in an alley somewhere by now, unable to stand—so we’d better hurry.”
Chaison cursed, and pushed open the door to the vision of a cloud-wreathed sky and the morning bustle of the town.
Songly looked like it might hold seven or eight thousand people, whose dwellings were mostly strung along or above a wooden hoop a mile and a half in diameter and one hundred feet wide. At four points around the circle, clustered jet engines stuck into the airflow beyond the wheel’s rim. Chaison could hear their roar and feel their pull every now and then, as they strained to keep the town spinning fast enough to produce gravity on the hoop.
The wooden street holding the hostel curved upward ahead and behind him, ending in a tiny-looking railing about three hundred feet away in either direction. It gave the hostel the appearance of being at the bottom of a giant bow of planking and rope. He walked to the side-rail of the narrow street, reaching up to grasp a taut rope that thrummed in the steady wind of the town’s rotation. He looked down a dizzying vertical drop to see the roofs
Still, she would have had to escape Candesce after the outage, and evade the roving ships of Gehellen, a nation that had put a price on all the Slipstreamers’ heads.
Was she languishing in some Gehellenite prison right now? It was a thought he’d managed to avoid all these months, but now he couldn’t shake it.
He rolled onto his side and levered himself upright, then wobbled to his feet.
“Ah!” Antaea emerged from the suite’s small privy. He blinked at her in surprise.
She had changed into a colorful silk blouse and loose pants, and a big pair of round sunglasses covered her gigantic eyes. After her flying leathers, this was an unexpectedly feminine look.
“Where did you get that?”
Antaea cocked her head. “From my luggage. You should buy a knapsack, you know. You’ll be conspicuous traveling without it.”
He looked down at the drab day-laborer’s clothes he’d acquired at the farm: toeless boots, stovepipe canvas pants of dull gray, and a sleeveless suede shirt. There were several pouches attached to the belt; all were currently empty.
He struggled to shake off his depression. “Money,” he said slowly. “And personal effects and…official papers, I suppose.” What did they use in Falcon? He vaguely knew that it was a monumentally bureaucratic state where you needed a passport to go to the bathroom.
Antaea was holding out something: a sheaf of just such papers. “Already done,” she said. “I’ve been up for hours. I thought you needed your sleep.”
“I did, thanks.” A little annoyed at himself for letting her get so far ahead of him, he took the papers, examined them, then slid them into one of the pouches. “Denarian. What kind of name is that?”
“It’s our family name, husband, don’t forget it,” she said with a grin. “Do you feel up to a walk up the street?”
He eyed the door. This hostel was at about a quarter of a gravity, but even that made the exit seem miles distant. But, though gray, the light welling in from outside was full daylight. If he was supposed to have business in this town it would be suspicious if he kept to his room.
“We need papers for my men too,” he said. “Where did you get those, by the way?” He took a cautious step toward the door.
“My contact,” she said. Her cool fingers wrapped around his bicep to steady him. “The same one I got the wings from. We’re going to see him, actually—just as soon as we find the ambassador.”
She assumed she was setting the agenda; well, let her—for now. Then he realized what she’d just said. “Richard? You can’t find him?…That means you did find Darius.”
“ He was waiting where he was supposed to be,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Richard had risen even earlier than I, and staggered out the door somewhere. He’s probably lying in an alley somewhere by now, unable to stand—so we’d better hurry.”
Chaison cursed, and pushed open the door to the vision of a cloud-wreathed sky and the morning bustle of the town.
Songly looked like it might hold seven or eight thousand people, whose dwellings were mostly strung along or above a wooden hoop a mile and a half in diameter and one hundred feet wide. At four points around the circle, clustered jet engines stuck into the airflow beyond the wheel’s rim. Chaison could hear their roar and feel their pull every now and then, as they strained to keep the town spinning fast enough to produce gravity on the hoop.
The wooden street holding the hostel curved upward ahead and behind him, ending in a tiny-looking railing about three hundred feet away in either direction. It gave the hostel the appearance of being at the bottom of a giant bow of planking and rope. He walked to the side-rail of the narrow street, reaching up to grasp a taut rope that thrummed in the steady wind of the town’s rotation. He looked down a dizzying vertical drop to see the roofs
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