“True, but how do we do things, then? Should we return to the house and get some money?” Not asking for quest aid meant avoiding any of their people who might assist them with things such as airship travel.
James shrugged. “The same thing any boys our age do when they want to go somewhere and don’t have the coin. We gamble or work our way there.”
“I think we should work for our passage.” He scooted his plate out of James’ reach. The idea of James gambling made him queasy. James couldn’t beat Charlotte at cribbage—even when he used magic.
The serving girl refilled their drinks. “You’re the young princes, right? The ones on the quest?” She shot them a winsome smile and giggled.
And so it began. Steven had hoped they’d have some time before the Otherworld gossip mill started moving. “No, that’s not us,” James lied blithely. “I wish I was a prince.”
“Oh.” Her face fell. She took their dishes and left. “Smart. If people do figure us out we should say we’re headed back to the Otherworld.” Steven lowered his voice.
“I can’t shake the feeling we’re missing something … it doesn’t make sense. Out of all the things she could have me do this seems … ludicrous—especially if she wanted it to lead to my death.” A quest couldn’t be designed to end in certain death, but plenty of people accidently perished while questing.
“She doesn’t make sense.” James lowered his voice, his words bordering on treason. “I have to say, sometimes I wonder if Noli’s right … ”
Of course, if Queen Tiana was insane she’d have to be a mad genius, since everything she did was so cold and calculating despite her pre-occupation with amusements. She wasn’t a very good queen—the mishaps with the sacrifices only two of many small instances compounding the matter. Instances no one would mention if they valued their life. Still, even if no one would say it out loud, Tiana wasn’t a fraction of the queen her sister had been.
“Well, we should return to the Otherworld before we’re missed.” James said this loudly as Steven left some coins on the table.
“Yes, we should,” Steven mumbled. He wasn’t very good at play-acting. Anything was better than mentioning their actual unspoken destination, the Grand Central Air Terminal. They’d stay far away from Jeff’s airship. It wasn’t as if he could explain everything to Jeff, and well, as much as it pained him to admit it, unless they had swords Jeff probably could kick the stuffing out of him.
“I can take you boys as far as Chicago,” a grizzled man with a medium-sized commercial passenger ship told them. “From Chicago you can get to North Carolina much easier than from here. We leave in the morning. I can’t offer you money, but you can have a place to sleep and three meals a day in exchange for being our kitchen boys.”
“We appreciate that, Captain,” Steven replied. It was the lowest position to be had on a ship like this, but it should only take a couple of days to get to Chicago.
The captain held out his chubby hand. “It’s a deal then. Welcome aboard.”
Six
All in a Day’s Work
“Get out of here.” A burly man picked up Kevighn by the scruff of his coat and unceremoniously tossed him out of the opium den into the early morning light. The air whooshed out of his chest as he hit the cold pavement.
Kevighn had forgotten why they threw him out in the cold. Perhaps it was because he was out of money. Gambling hadn’t been as good as he’d hoped. He brushed himself off and skulked back toward the Saint Louis Air Terminal. A new day brought new ships. If there were no positions to be had here, perhaps he could work his way toward a larger city. Chicago and New York were both good options. Los Angeles and San Francisco were also ideas, but those cities made him think of Magnolia. Denver and Atlanta were gateways to smaller stations which could also suffice.
He stumbled into a seedy bar in the cargo terminal— the perfect place to find employment. Even though he had no coin and it was dawn, he ordered a mug of ale. That was what everyone else drank.
“Looking for anything else, sailor?” The human serving woman had seen much better days, age lining her face, breasts sagging in her low-cut blouse.
“I’m looking for employment. I’m a fair gunner and have some experience in fieldwork. If not a job, then passage to someplace where I might find one.” He downed the bitter beverage, trying not to make a face. Fieldwork was air pirate slang for obtaining a take and protecting it while it was delivered to the customer. Did he even have his pistol in his rucksack?
The server, realizing he wasn’t looking for companionship, left. A short while later, a young, spindly man with an eye patch sat down across from him.
“Hear yer looking for a job, stranger.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “I know of a few ships looking for crew, but none of them are in port here.”
Kevighn looked at the unnamed man and took a drink as if to say then why are you here?
“I can offer a lift to Chicago if you assist me and my crew by guarding some cargo we aim to take on here.” The man cocked his head. “You pull a fast one and you’ll be tossed over the side of the ship.”
“Fair enough. If you’re sure there’s work in Chicago.” Air pirates had rules–simple rules, but rules nevertheless. Here a man was true to his word until proven otherwise, which generally resulted in said man being tossed off the side of an airship midflight.
The man shrugged. “Can’t promise, of course. Depends on who’s in port. But in Chicago I’ll give you the names of the ships I heard are looking for crew—especially gunners. It’s easy to lose good gunners to the Pineapple Rebellion.”
“That war is still going on?” Kevighn took an absent sip of bad ale. Last time he’d been trolling the skies, Hawaii had been also battling for their freedom. The United States had decided to annex the country, but luckily for the island nation, a group of air pirates helped the Hawaiians out, birthing the Pineapple Rebellion.
“Hawaii did win a couple years back. But the U.S. keeps nipping at their borders since the natives kicked us off their land.” He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. “Guess the powers that be hope this second attack will force them to become part of America. The islanders keep a well-stocked air force and treat their gunners well. It might be a big hunk of dirt, but I hear it’s a pretty hunk of dirt with some even prettier women.”
Kevighn raised his glass in a mock toast. “To pretty women.”
The captain raised his. “Here, here. Name’s Red. Let’s discuss what I need from you.”
“Noli, Noli, are you awake?” Jeff whispered.
“Mmm,” Noli rolled over in her hammock. She didn’t open her eyes.
“I need your help. Please?”
Noli eyes cracked open as she turned toward the voice. “Wha?”
Jeff stood in the doorway of her little room, desperate etched on every inch of his face. “It’s my turn to cook. Only I think I broke breakfast.”
“Broke breakfast? You mean you burned it?” She stretched, trying to make sense of her brother’s words.
“Nooo. I didn’t burn it, but it’s not turning out right. Will you fix it? Please? If we have a nasty breakfast again they’ll toss my boots in the head.”
Her slippered feet touched down on the floor. “Let me dress and I’ll take a look and see how we can save breakfast.”
“Air pirates don’t wear ruffled nightdresses.” He flicked the ruffles on her collar.
Noli shoved him out the door. Recalling Vix’s teasing about her clothing, she donned one of the simple green gowns she’d brought back from the Otherworld. The design was feminine but it easy to move in and do things such as climb on the roof and build sewing machines.