Dawn found them closing on the shore of the mainland. Vaddi had snatched a brief sleep, troubled by grim dreams, seeing again the deaths of his family and of Menneath.
“Scaacrag ahead,” called Nyam, indicating sunlight on the houses of the small town. It was built at the base of a long range of cliffs, with several jetties thrust out into deep water. Behind them a central core of structures rose up the cliffs like huge nests, topped by a huge, temple-like construction. Vaddi took this to be the airship terminus, though there was no sign of aerial activity about it.
“You’ve earned your money,” Cellester said to the peddler.
“Twice over I should say.” Nyam grinned.
“You’ll be paid.”
As the sun rose higher, the craft sailed easily alongside one of the jetties and Nyam tied it off as his passengers climbed the steps.
“Vaddi, you and I will take passage on an airship,” said Cellester. “Come, peddler, we’ll settle up at the terminus. I’d be glad if we all remain as inconspicuous as possible.”
Nyam pulled down his wide hat, which had survived the events of the night. They went into the town, which was already coming to life. Although it was a small port, Vaddi could see that Scaacrag bustled, as the day’s trade was already well underway. If the news of Marazanath’s fall had reached the ears of people here, it had had little or no impact on their activities.
They came to the black steel girders of the ancient wheel-house without incident. Vaddi stared up at the structure, built before the War, rusting and somewhat precarious-looking now, almost neglected. But within its frame the lift rose and fell monotonously, taking handfuls of passengers up the face of the cliffs to the terminus high above.
Cellester dropped a few coins into the palm of the gatekeeper, a wizened old man who nodded sleepily, though his eyes raked the three of them. As the huge wheel at the base of the tower turned, the cogs and ratchets of the ancient machinery ground and creaked, the cage rising up. A dozen other passengers had squeezed in, some coughing nervously, others yawning. No one spoke.
At the top, Cellester disembarked, motioning Vaddi and Nyam to follow him along the wide walkway that clung to the side of the cliff, barely beneath its brow. Several offices and shops had been carved out of the stone. The cleric paused near one of them.
“Wait here.”
Nyam was looking about him with feigned indifference and Vaddi could sense his nervousness. Surely there was no danger here. The people going about their business were fairly nondescript, as though few events troubled this backwater of a town.
Cellester spent some time talking to a clerk at the counter. Vaddi saw him pay over more coins and then sign a number of documents. Eventually he rejoined his companions. He handed Nyam a rolled parchment.
“What’s this?” grunted the peddler.
“I’ve arranged for House Orien to make good payment. That’s your surety.”
“A sheet of paper?”
“You can take it to the clerk immediately if you wish,” said Cellester. “He’ll pay you in gold—either that or take it anywhere that deals with House Orien. I trust you’ll agree it’s a generous amount?”
Nyam’s face split in a huge grin within the tangles of his beard. “Indeed, indeed. Almost worth the extraordinary dangers that have come so close to ending my humble career.”
“So we bid you farewell,” said the cleric. “Come, Vaddi. We must board our craft.”
Vaddi nodded to the peddler, feeling slight remorse at having to quit his company. Nyam was undoubtedly a dubious character, but there was something about him that he had warmed to. “Our thanks,” he said.
Nyam simply bowed, his numerous rings and bracelets gleaming in the sunlight. “Safe journey,” he said, then turned and was almost at once swallowed up in the flow of people.
Vaddi followed the cleric along the walkway to another stairway under the huge canopy of the terminus. “Where are we going?”
“The airships here are infrequent, mostly bound for the west. It would suit us best, I think, to go to Thrane. I have contacts there that will offer us some protection. I have bought us passage. I have the seal of House Orien, which will open doors for us. Keep close to me and remain covered. These places teem with spies of one kind or another.”
Once they entered the vast dome of the terminal, with its glittering glass shell stretched over a webwork of rusting steel, Vaddi gaped at the far side of the building, which was a flat area, falling away to emptiness beyond. There were three docks built under the dome, each with a narrow boarding area, a mass of wiring and pipework knotted along their floor. Two of the docks were empty, but in the third rested an airship. Vaddi had heard of such things and had seen diagrams of them in Marazanath’s library, but this was his introduction to the reality. He marvelled at the construction of the craft.
The ship seemed to be hovering in mid air. A score of wires and tubes hung from its keel, linked to the mechanics of the dock. Long and relatively sleek, she had the lines of a seagoing vessel, though there were no masts. Curved timbers ran along her sides. The deck was narrow and two tiered, but what struck Vaddi most was her means of propulsion. Around the central part of the craft, two arms curved outwards and within these, shimmering like vivid sunlight on a lake, was a brilliant ring of what appeared to be fire. It sizzled, a live thing, humming softly.
“What is that?” Vaddi asked.
“An elemental. The pilot uses it to control the flight. It is bound to him by strong magic. Without such creatures, the ships could not fly.”
They made their way to the narrow gangplank that led up to the stern of the airship, where several uniformed airmen of House Lyrandar were checking the documents of those coming aboard. Cellester handed a seal to one of them and Vaddi noticed that it had been embossed with the unicorn of House Orien. The airman glanced through Cellester’s papers and nodded approval. In a moment, the cleric and Vaddi were onboard.
“We’ll sit in the stern initially,” said Cellester. “I warn to see as many of the other passengers as I can.”
“You expect trouble?”
“Probably not, though it is wise to assume that our enemies are having us watched. An airship is not the best place to begin a skirmish, although it will be a stow journey. This is an old tub. The more modern ones are made from softwood, built for speed.”
Vaddi took one of the seats around the rim of the stern. There were cabins under the main deck and a few of the passengers had evidently gone below. Otherwise there were no more than thirty or so of them and a dozen aircrew, seasoned fliers who were armed but relaxed. Apparently no one was expecting trouble on such a routine flight.
The Cloudclipper, for thus was their airship named, left the terminus soon afterwards, her upper and lower deck having filled with a flurry of passengers. Once away from the port, she rose through layers of cloud into the brilliant blue skies. Vaddi pulled tight his thick cloak and hood, for the air up here was very cold in spite of the vivid sunshine. Arcing over the heavens, a curve of the Rings of Siberys sparkled like some immense architectural marvel, and beyond them several small, white moons formed a backdrop. The scene fascinated Vaddi, so much so that for a moment he was unaware that Cellester was nudging him.
“Stay here but keep one eye on those around us,” said the cleric. “We cannot assume we are not being watched.”
“Where are you going?”
“I would see more of the travellers. No doubt most of them are bound for Thrane on business or local politics. If the Claw has agents aboard, I doubt they’ll risk conflict in the sky, but it would pay to be vigilant. The danger will certainly come when we disembark.”