Heir of Thunder (Stormbourne Chronicles Book 1) (19 page)

A misty rain settled over us as we flew into the first
cloudbank. Tiny drops of condensation beaded on my jacket, and I wiped my
goggle lenses, clearing my vision. Timony returned to the controls, shouting
more commands, and Niffin scuttled around the deck, tugging levers and yanking
ropes. The ship descended.

Timony shouted over another rumble of thunder. “Have you put
out the lightning rigs yet, boy?”

“Of course, Father!” Niffin jogged down the length of the
deck and leaned over the rail every so often to peer at the ship’s belly. “They’re
all out!”

“Ready to turn about!” Timony spun the wheel and the ship
shifted hard to port. “Anchor!”

Niffin pulled another lever in the middle of the deck, and
the ship slowed and stopped. It hovered in place, only moving when a strong
wind gust blew against us.

How in the shadowlands does that work? Anchors in the
air?

“What now?” I wondered aloud.

Somehow, Timony heard me over the storm’s uproar. He laughed
and said, “Now we wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“For the lightning.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” I wasn’t afraid of the lightning for
my own sake, but for the others and particularly for the delicate balloon
keeping us aloft. Because of my heritage, I might have endured a lightning
strike, but even
I
wouldn’t survive a fall from this high up.

“Maybe a little bit.” Timony chuckled. “A necessary evil?”

“What do you need the lightning for?”

“It powers our ship, from the lights to the engines. We have
to refill our storage cells every so often and this is the only way.”

“This thing has engines?” I asked, thinking of the steaming
locomotive that pulled the trains back on Inselgrau.

“Like I said, it’s more complicated than the simple
explanation I gave, but yes. Sometimes there is no wind, and the air currents
move too slowly. Then we have to use air turbines to push us along.”

I nodded as though I understood anything he had said. “How
long will it take to fill these storage cells?”

Timony shrugged. “Depends on how many strikes we get. The
lightning has to hit us directly for the rigs to take up their power.”

In his explanation, he had inadvertently given me a chance
to make myself useful and ease the Tippany family’s reservations about boarding
a stranger. “I might be able to help you with that.”

Timony turned to me and arched an eyebrow. “How’s that?”

“I know a little something about lightning.” Truth be told,
I knew
less
than a little something, but the bit Father taught me before
his death should have sufficed for Timony’s purposes. I hesitated, considering the
doubt flickering in my thoughts. By helping the Tippanys this way, I would give
away my identity. Did they know of the ransom for my return to Inselgrau, and
did they care? Niffin had noticed his father’s interest and watched me closely.
In my mind, Gideon’s voice urged me to stop. The Fantazikes were dangerous
people, and Niffin had done terrible things, but he had done them for the honor
of my friend.

Maybe that’s a good enough reason. If you’re going to
survive, you’ll have to trust
someone
.

I closed my eyes and reached out with my senses, something I
had practiced many times with Father on Fallstaff’s roof. A buzz of static came
as another energy bolt formed in the distance. I reached out for it with my
mind and imagined touching it, stroking its crackling surface, leading it to
me. I even smelled it, but lightning smelled nothing like what anyone might
imagine, not ozone or sulfur or rain.

It smelled like my father: a combination of his skin and
clothes and hair, and the essence that made him a Stormbourne. Lightning
smelled like fireplaces, ink, leather, sword steel, rifle oil, and his own
personal musk mingled with his favorite whiskey. It smelled like mixing all
those things together and setting them alight with the energy that fueled the
moon and stars.

An explosion woke me from my trance and shook the ship. Malita
and I fell against each other and wrapped our arms through the railing behind
us.

“Direct hit!” Timony bellowed, pumping his fist into the
air. He froze in mid celebration and turned to me, his eyes wide and mouth
agape. “Can you do that again?”

“If you believe I can,” I said.

The last effort took a lot out of me, but I inhaled a deep
breath, drew up my confidence, and reached out again, seeking another streak of
lightning as it began to form. Timony’s faith in my abilities drizzled into me,
feeding my power. I was ready for the explosion of contact this time and managed
to keep my feet under me. Malita threw her arms around my waist and buried her
face in my shoulder. Overflowing with confidence, I sought out the lightning
again and again without Timony’s request.

“All right, Evie, that’s enough. That’s enough!” Niffin ran
about, pulling the lightning rig levers back into their original positions. “We
will blow out the storage cells if we take on anymore.”

“Terrific job, my friend!” Timony slapped my back and
grinned from ear to ear. “
Terrific
job. It seems you have some secrets
of your own. I suspect you would like to keep them?”

“Yes.” I panted and felt weary to the bone. “Yes, please.”

“Well, then, my dear. I think we can do that small favor in
return for your help today. No one has to know that the Tippany family is
playing host to the Heir of Thunder.”

As Niffin had said, the Fantazikes took every opportunity to
stop in places boasting a large enough population to make the effort of setting
up their market, stages, and wrestling rings worthwhile. They stayed in each
small town or village no longer than a night or two, but they managed to
attract a crowd wherever they went.

I bought trinkets—including a lovely silver and bone
bracelet, intricately carved with renderings of Rhemonie horses—from the
Fantazike women as Niffin had suggested. I ate gnollitas enough to make me
sick, and I bought another Fantazike skirt and shirt to enhance my simple
wardrobe.

Many of the women wore soft slippers, but my boots had seen
me through so much and fit me well. I couldn’t bear to toss them out,
especially once I convinced Ferrin, the Fantazike’s horse master, to let me to
assist him in the stables. Some of the Fantazike boys helped him as well, but I
could tell it pleased him when I shoveled the Rhemonie’s hay and mucked their
stalls without his asking. When I spent a day collecting wild oats and apples
for his fine beasts, he grunted approval and allowed me to feed his stock by
hand. The Rhemonie’s soft lips tickled when they nibbled at the treats. I
leaned in, breathed their soothing, equine scent, and tried not to cry for
Nonnie.

The Fantazikes were a stunning people, all of them, but
especially the men. Similar to how nature often gifted male birds with brighter
feathers, the Fantazike men had richer colored hair and purer hued eyes. As
handsome as they were as a whole, Niffin’s beauty managed to surpass them all.
Malita had surely noted this fact for herself as she rarely strayed from his
side. The Fantazikes remained aloof, but many possessed a sly sense of humor
and an excess of musical talent or storytelling skills that kept me entertained
and distracted. The journey to Pecia passed in a blink.

Before we reached Galland, I performed my lightning tricks
once more for the Tippanys. Puri rewarded me with anise cookies and pats on my
head while I ate. Emorelle never went out of her way to accept me, but the
terseness in her tone eased. When we reached the first signs of development on
the outskirts of Pecia, my worries returned for the first time in days, and
settled in my gut like spoiled meat.
What will happen to me now?

“Niffin?” I asked one afternoon as we set up the musical
pavilion where the Fantazikes would perform. “What will you do with Malita?
Will she stay with you? Will you take her home?”

He heaved a heavy beam into position and stood aside while
someone else pounded in a peg. Then he exhaled a sigh and turned to face me. “I
do not know that answer myself. My people will tolerate her presence for a
while, but they will insist she return to her home at some point.”

“How will she get there?”

“I will have to take her on my own. It may be many years
before we return to Agridan or Nri. My family will not allow her to stay with
us that long.”

“And that’s okay with you?” Malita’s feelings for Niffin
were unmistakable. The way she looked at him revealed all her longings. Her
drawings captured his beauty and exposed her love for him in each line and
shadow. And the way
he
looked at
her
.... His hands strayed to
touch her at every opportunity, brushing her shoulder, guiding her with a touch
at the small of her back, lingering with his fingers over hers whenever he took
the supper dishes from her.

“No, but I have not yet found a solution,” he said. “I
cannot leave my family. Fantazikes cut off from each other do not live long.
They say there is a curse for leaving.”

He lifted another heavy board into place. Then he brushed
his hands on his pants and stepped back again. “Anyway, I do not want to leave
my family.”

“But they won’t let her stay?” I asked.

“It is not our way.”

I considered him for a minute—unease shadowed his expression
as he contemplated our conversation.

“Do you love her?” It was an inappropriate question, but I
needed to protect my friend. I would take her with me on my search for Jackie
if his answers didn’t satisfy me—
if
I could convince her to go with me.
Maybe nothing would convince Malita to leave him, not even Niffin himself.

“Even if I do,” he said, “it will not solve anything.
Probably it will only make things worse.”

I only ever loved my father and Gerda. I cared for many
people, but it wasn’t the same as what Niffin and Malita felt for each other.
Losing my father and leaving Gerda behind had wounded me deeply. If losing
Malita hurt Niffin half as much, I suspected he would try his best to keep her.

“I think she loves
you
,” I said as Niffin leaned down
to help anchor the last board.

He waited while the mallet wielder pounded it into place
before he answered. “I think she does, too.”

“I’ll have to try to find my friend soon, the one who lives
in Pecia. If I have to leave Malita, I want to know she’ll be taken care of.”

He wiped sweat from his face. “Even if I must take her back
to her people, she will be well cared for.”

I believed him and left him in peace. I could make no more arguments
on Malita’s behalf that Niffin didn’t already know.

***

Short of knocking on every door in Pecia, I had no idea how
to find Jackie’s sister and aunt, but when the crowds from town descended on
the Fantazike fair, I hoped
they
might come to
me
. Melainey
agreed to let me take her shift at her booth, where she sold a variety of
fabrics and crafts gathered from several of the Fantazike women. She warned me
that anyone stupid enough to steal from the till would suffer instant bad luck,
but then she winked and strolled off in search of Benoit, her beau.

In this position, I encountered many of Pecia’s residents,
some from the upper crust wearing gowns of expensive fabrics and eye-catching
jewels, and some from the lower realms in much laundered and mended jackets and
skirts. How curious that the upper and lower classes found the Fantazike visits
equally entertaining. I wondered if there was any other place where such a wide
slice of the social strata might converge.

I asked every person who visited my booth if they knew the
Faercourts. Pecia must have been large city indeed—not one person claimed to
know Jackie or Cicely, his sister.

Later in the evening, a pretty, dark haired girl approached
my booth. An older woman, who could have been her sister, accompanied her. She
fingered several carved bone bracelets, and I encouraged her to try one on. She
selected a band etched with orchids and slipped it over her wrist. The pale
color of the bone almost disappeared against her milky skin.

“It suits you,” I said, and meant it.

She studied my face and smirked with pursed lips. “You have
to say that,” she said in prefect Inselgrish. “You need me to purchase
something if you are going to make a living.”

Her haughty tone grated, but I had dealt with her kind
before. The rich merchants’ daughters in Glennich had often mistaken me for a
servant girl when they encountered me on my way home after a day of riding with
Nonnie. I had felt sorry for the servants who endured the mistreatment I had
suffered at the hands of those haughty girls. But I had revealed myself and
sent them home with their tails between their legs. Their servants had no such
power.

I had never considered the fate of the lower classes before.
I had lacked the proper perspective. But my situation had changed greatly since
then.

“Look at me,” I said. “I’m not Fantazike. I don’t need you
to buy anything.”

The girl paused and narrowed her eyes at me. “Of course not.
You do not have their curious look. Why would you be working for them, though?
Have they kidnapped you? Maybe they are holding you here with one of their
notorious curses.” She giggled in a way that made the fine hairs on the back of
my neck stand up.

I tried not to bare my teeth at her. “They’re helping me,
and I’m returning the favor.”

The girl’s older chaperone rolled her eyes and said, “The
Fantazikes are not known for their hospitality.”

I arched a brow and pursed my lips. “I think they have set
up a welcoming affair tonight.”

“That is not what she meant,” the haughty girl said. “Everyone
knows they do not let outsiders join them. How is it that you have come to be
here?”

“I paid them to take me to Pecia, and agreed to help out
along the way.”

“Oh? Do you live here? But you are obviously Inselgrish.”

“No, I don’t live here. But someone I know lives here, and I
have come to find them.”

The girl’s eyes widened, and her smile broadened and turned
warmer. She bounced on her toes. “Oooh, a mystery. I do love them. Who is it
you are searching for? A long lost love?”

I bit my lip and choked back my laughter. Maybe it would
have helped, if she believed love was my motive. “Maybe. There
is
a nice
young gentleman in this family.”

The girl bounced again. “Is he handsome?”

I nodded. “Oh, yes. He has the palest hair and skin as
smooth and fair as the marble statues in Vinitzia.” This part I made up because
I had only seen Vinitzian statues in books. “He has eyes the color of distilled
moonlight.”

“And what is his name?” She leaned in as if my answer might
be a secret.

“Jonathan Faercourt. He’s from the estate of Connolly on
Inselgrau, but his sister and aunt live here in Pecia.”

The girl froze. Then she turned to look at her stern
companion. “Do you think it is Cicely?”

The companion cut her eyes to me and shrugged. “The
description matches. Cicely is as pale and fair. She has mentioned a brother in
conversation. It is possible.”

“Yes.” I leaned forward, eager for their news. “Yes, Cicely
is his sister. Do you know her?”

***

By the time Miss Amee Beauchamp and her condescending aunt
left my stall, they had agreed to invite Jackie’s sister to the Fantazike
fairgrounds to meet me the next night. I was giddy with the anticipation of
reuniting with someone familiar again. Of course, I had come to know Malita and
the Tippany family better than I ever knew Jackie. So why did I feel such an
urge to contact him? Perhaps it was my vanity, believing Jackie might worry
over my fate. Maybe he could tell me what had happened to Gideon.

Gideon had saved me, had risked his life for me. He deserved
to be remembered, deserved my appreciation and thanks. He deserved much more
than that, but gratitude was all I had to offer.

If I did find Jackie again, what would happen next? I couldn’t
expect him or his family to take me in. And if he could help me find Gideon,
did I want to go on to whatever plans he had in store for me in Dreutch? I had
proved myself a survivor, an adapter. The Fantazikes wouldn’t let me stay with
them, but I could be useful. Maybe, once I knew what happened after falling
from the
LaDonna
, I could move on.

Perhaps I could make a new life for myself. But could I
leave my heritage behind?

If I have to. I’ll do whatever it takes to survive.