CHAPTER 46: MOUNTAINOUS PROBABILITY

  The eastern edge of Hightown was a spectacle to behold. Ten airships hovered in the sky in neat rows of two with theirs bows facing out from the city, all pointed squarely in the same direction. Most were medium-sized vessels built for speed, similar to The Sapphire Spirit, but in the quiet moments before a race, they floated calmly like ducks on the water ready for takeoff.

  The docks behind them were packed with spectators. Children dangled their legs over pier edges with their cones of kettle corn, while happy couples leaned into one another for warmth in the cool morning breeze. There were colorful balloons, some of them already lost to the breeze, and green banners everywhere to mark the occasion.

  Elias had a clear view of their audience given that their starting position was, as Briley put it earlier, “bullshit.” For this first round, positions had been determined by a lottery, one that Elias was provided no opportunity to influence. In round two, assuming they made it that far, the fastest racers from round one would start near the front, ensuring there was some incentive to not only place in the top five today—but to give it their all.

  Alas, The Sapphire Spirit was starting in the second last row, which meant six ships were already ahead of them.

  Further compounding their bad luck was the fact that they had been selected to race today, the very first day of The Emerald Cup, once again compliments of another random lottery. Elias wondered if the gods of fortune were getting back at him for so often putting a finger on their scales. They had barely had time for Gabby to inspect and tune up The Sapphire Spirit before their first race, which meant they’d had no time at all to for a practice run.

  Staring sternward as they waited for a signal, they did not feel ready, but ready they would have to be. A slender man sporting a powdered wig and a bright emerald suit—befitting the occasion—marched down the only pier closed off to spectators. After an inaudible preamble, he pointed his pistol to the empty sky and pressed its trigger.

  The Emerald Cup had officially begun.

  The rectangular arrangement of ships scattered like pieces on a live gameboard. The Sapphire Spirit had to navigate its way around the crowd, but Gabby had readied their cobrium engine with more precision than they were accustomed to, and their sleek vessel flew like an arrow just released. Elias knew they had a high-quality airship, but now they were seeing the truth of that claim firsthand. They had never flown so fast. The wind had never blasted them so intensely, beating upon their reddened faces, loosening that once strangling feeling of unreadiness. It slipped from them as they slipped past ship after ship, moving into third place.

  The roughly hour-long race would take them through the colossal mountains east of Sailor’s Rise, mountains much taller than the low one upon which the city behind them was perched. They would need to fly around rather than over them, though it was not merely the mountains that charted their course. There were three checkpoints each ship had to cross before the finish line.

  They passed the first one still in an impressive third place. The checkpoint itself was another airship, albeit one packed to the bulwark with high-paying spectators and a team of officials watching them through telescopes, jotting down details about each ship that flew by.

  Elias stared back through his own. But mostly he employed the assistance of his sight, though the way forward was plain enough to see with a normal pair of eyes. There eventually came a moment of contradiction, however, a moment when his sight and common sense seemed at odds. It happened a few minutes after crossing the first checkpoint. The green lines that only Elias could see were shooting downward, telling them to descend sharply.

  Confused, he spun around seeking answers, which was when he saw the ship behind them twisting sideways. Elias could not decipher what exactly was happening. Another vessel passed the seemingly out-of-control one, closing in on The Sapphire Spirit.

  He peered back toward it, hand over brow, squinting in the blinding daylight. And then he caught a glint of metal. Something flying through the air. Something flying toward them. Before Elias could do or say anything, the projectile struck their wooden hull with a hollow thunk. He leaned over the bulwark to examine the silver bolt poking out from their ship—and something else unfurling from its tail.

  Elias would later examine the projectile to better understand precisely how the mechanical device functioned, lest they ever face such a weapon again. Perhaps they would even acquire their own for self-defense, he considered. Essentially, the front of the bolt was a button that, when pushed on impact, ejected a compacted parachute out its metal tail. One can imagine the effect this had on a soaring airship.

  Indeed, the parachute expanded quickly and then—its canvas catching the wind like a hook finding its first bite—completely. The Sapphire Spirit lurched violently as Elias hollered, “Hold on!”

  His warning came too late. He fell to his knees and gripped the bulwark, but Briley lost her balance before catching herself on the wheel. Iric and Gabby both landed on their respective asses, and Bertrand stumbled into a wooden beam. Something else was flying across the deck. Something black and white and shrieking as she flew, hurtling toward Bertrand. Islet landed safely, if horizontally, upon his plush chest as Bertrand hastily wrapped his arms around her, holding still their precious cat.

  Briley had witnessed the entirety of the event. “Why is she above deck?” she yelled, returning to her feet, gripping the wheel with both hands as she straightened them back out. “Put Islet in the great cabin, now!”

  Elias had also regained his footing and was staring down at the bolt, questioning how such a blatant violation of the race’s many rules could—he stopped that train of thought. The answer was stupidly obvious. The first checkpoint was minutes behind them now, and they were still miles away from the second one. A rule was only as enforceable as its visibility, they had been warned.

  Briley had steadied their trajectory, but the parachute was adding a tremendous amount of drag, as was its purpose. They were flying with an airborne anchor. In the minute it had taken them to analyze their unfortunate situation, they had slipped into fourth place.

  They gathered at the wheel, where Elias explained the device buried deep in their hull. “There’s no easy way to remove the bolt, so our best bet is to cut the parachute. And we need to do it fast—or we’re fucked.” He unsheathed his rapier and sighed. “I don’t think this will cut rope very well.”

  In response, Iric brushed back his weatherworn wool coat, gripped the hatchet hitched to his belt, and yanked free the weapon he carried everywhere. “A northerner’s axe isn’t fancy,” he said. “It isn’t as pretty as your skinny sword. But a northerner’s axe will cut rope. I shall cut free this parasitic parachute.”

  “It’s a climb down,” Elias replied, “and I suspect I’m a little lighter than you.” His suspicion needed no scale. Iric looked well over two hundred pounds.

  “I’ll do it,” Gabby jumped in. “I’m lighter than any of you.”

  They all shook their heads in unison. No one was going to let a fourteen-year-old risk her life for them, at least not if they could help it. “We need you up here,” Bertrand added tactfully, “in case something goes wrong with the engine.”

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  “Come on.” Elias beckoned them toward the damage. “You two can help lower me down.” He pointed at Bertrand and Iric as they got to work. He was stronger than he looked, after all, even as a lowly awakened collector.

  They wound their rope around the nearest steel cleat for added security before positioning it over the bolt. Elias tied a knot around his waist. He could be quick without being entirely stupid. Life had taught him that much, and he wanted to hold onto his.

  He climbed over the edge and walked down backward as Bertrand and Iric fed him rope. “A little more!” he yelled up, testing his distance from the projectile. He could now better see the splintered scar it would leave in their hull—another job for Mr. Mason’s Ship Repair and Other Services, no doubt.

  As Elias finally maneuvered into position, an airship passed them by. They had fallen to fifth place. Cursing under his breath, he grabbed Iric’s axe from his belt and gripped the first line connecting the bolt to its parachute. There were six cords in total he would need to cut, and though the northerner’s axe was certainly better suited to the task than the rapier he’d left above deck, it too was not ideal. The cords were tough, clearly by design, and Elias had nothing to swing his blade into. Against a stump, he could have split each line with a single good swing, but floating midair, he was forced to use the rugged hatchet like a saw.

  It was taking longer than he had hoped. To make matters even more difficult, the wind was tossing him about, trying its best to ring him like a windchime. The first cord snapped free. Elias grabbed the second. He focused on his task, trying not to dwell on every infuriating aspect of their present predicament. The second cord split faster than the first—Elias was improving his form—and the third one even more quickly.

  They would get through this: he held onto that belief as tightly as he held onto his axe. They could still place in the top five and make it to round two. Another airship whooshed by, leaving them in sixth. It also produced a sudden gale that pushed him into the projectile. He slipped and caught himself on the bolt, his security rope tightening around his waist like the hangman. It knocked his wind out—and Iric’s axe from his not-so-iron grip.

  Elias tried to swear but could not quite breathe as he watched his hatchet spinning earthward like a maple seed. He gazed past it, deflated, and in the distance saw a familiar ship. It was the one that had started the race beside them. The smoking vessel was now skidding down the mountainside, leaving a trail of freshly snapped timber in its destructive wake. It disappeared completely in the dense forest below.

  Things could be worse for them, Elias supposed.

  He loosened the rope around his waist and regained his footing as Iric leaned over the bulwark. “Should I pull you back up?” the older man asked.

  Elias waved off the suggestion. “No time! Get me something else to cut with!”

  Iric nodded, disappeared from view, then popped his head over the edge again. “Bertrand will find something below deck!” he hollered down. “Hold tight, Mr. Vice!”

  As Elias held on as tightly as he could, waiting for Bertrand to retrieve something sharp, Gabby appeared beside Iric. It was harder to hear her higher-pitched voice over the wind, but he listened carefully, for the young mechanic had a smart idea.

  “I think we should overpower the engine with some extra cobrium!” She had to yell it twice, louder the second time. “It’s a little risky, but I can read her limits and push her right to the edge! It’s the only way we’ll catch up—as soon as you cut free that parachute!”

  Elias understood. “Do it!”

  Gabby was soon replaced by Bertrand, who had attached the wooden handle of a handsaw to its own piece of rope. He dangled it downward. Elias grabbed the saw like water in a desert, untangling it as he swung himself toward the three remaining lines. The serrated saw made much quicker work of the cords, and soon the parachute flew from them almost as quickly as it had joined them. Iric and Bertrand pulled Elias back to the deck.

  He returned the saw to Bertrand, thanking him. “We probably should have used this in the first place.”

  “One day, I will teach you the ways of the axe” was all Iric said.

  “We’ll buy you a new one,” Elias replied before turning toward his large blond business partner. “Bertrand, go tell Gabby we’re ready to overpower the engine.”

  “What does overpower the engine mean?” Bertrand didn’t exactly break into a sprint.

  “Just trust me.” Alas, that did not get him running either. “Trust Gabby. It was her idea.”

  Bertrand did as he was asked while Elias joined Briley at the wheel. “How are we doing?” He exhaled the question.

  “Eighth place, and that includes the ship that blew up,” she said. “So, not great. We need at least fifth to move forward, and we just passed the second checkpoint. The race is half over, and fifth place is a few minutes ahead of us now. I don’t know if we can do it.”

  “Well, I know we’re sure as hell going to try,” Elias reassured her, or attempted to.

  Fortunately, his words were followed by a sudden boost of speed.

  Briley seemed confused. “Did we catch a strong wind or something? No. What’s going on?”

  Elias smirked. “Gabby is earning her five percent stake in the company.”

  And so she was. Slowly but surely, they closed the gap between eighth and seventh, swapping places as they flew by the third checkpoint—the last one before the finish line.

  The next three ships ahead of them were racing in a tight pack. The Sapphire Spirit would need to pass at least two of them, but the mountainous valley through which they were forced to fly was narrowing. The way forward was a funnel, meaning they would not be able to zoom by from a safe distance.

  Briley said as much: “We might catch up, but they’ll block us from passing.”

  “Nothing is ever easy.” Elias crossed his arms.

  “I believe that’s the point.”

  “Let me think,” he said, though what he truly meant, at least to himself, was: let me see if the sight can show us a way through.

  He pleaded with it, focused on it, tried to give it clear instructions. The effort took longer than usual, and the initial signal was weaker and harder to see. Faint lines led them somewhere he had not expected, though he had turned to his gift for unconventional advice.

  And then he saw it: a narrow cut in the mountainside. Its sharp V shape looked like the mark of a god who had decided the mountain was too fat and taken an axe to it, only to abandon the effort after an unsatisfactory first swing. The passage would have been easy to miss among the myriad evergreens, but it was the one through which they would travel, their crack in a fortress of probability.

  “Head toward the left mountain,” he instructed Briley. “Make them think they can force us into the mountain face, then swerve left and slip through that gap. We’ll fit. And at that point, they won’t be able to stop us.”

  Briley scrunched her nose as she eyed the gap in question and then the person suggesting they could fly through it. “That’s going to be a tight fit, assuming we can fit.” She tossed up her hands. “But I suppose your crazy ideas have worked before. Hopefully that wasn’t just dumb luck.”

  Absent any alternatives, they put Elias’s plan into action, racing forward in a straight line, not yet showing their hand. The ship immediately in front of them swerved toward the mountainside, ready to block any attempt to pass it. As soon as it was time to put their cards on the table, Briley spun their wheel leftward and positioned them toward the gap. Elias nodded reassuringly. They were still on track, though no one else had the ability to confirm as much, and yet he got the impression that Briley sensed he was hiding something, not that she would ever guess what.

  As they disappeared from view, Elias imagined the baffled expressions on the faces of those other sailors. Unfortunately for his ego, the sight did not allow him to peer through solid stone. He was also rather busy keeping his eyes fixed on the perilous path he had charted for his fellow shipmates. He could not hear Briley gulp over the rushing wind, but he could certainly see it from the corner of his eye.

  Their narrow shortcut kept narrowing. Crooked trees that reached up bravely from opposing cliffsides brushed their hull. Their hull did not brush back. Branches snapped. Elias was pretty sure they downed an entire cedar, rocking The Sapphire Spirit and jostling its crew. But soon they were through the worst of it.

  When they popped out the other side, back in view of the competition—and still soaring at overpowered speeds—they found themselves in fifth place. They were back in contention.

  Elias shared a look of pure satisfaction with Briley. Gabby returned to the deck, counted the ships in front of them, and offered well-received high-fives to Bertrand and Iric.

  And as Briley held the wheel, Elias kept an eye out—in both senses—for any more projectiles looking to cross paths, but the risk of an attack dissipated the instant they made their final turn. They were too close to the city for any more shenanigans, back in plain sight of thousands upon thousands of cheering spectators, all watching them from every ledge of the mountain metropolis Elias had come to call home.

  He had learned that Sailor’s Rise was a castle constructed of many stones and many stories, but today—and every day forward—he would truly be one of them. He had constructed, or perhaps carved, his place in the fortress. The feeling of this was sudden and complete. Elias Vice was not some transient tourist, no. He was a man seen.

  By the time The Sapphire Spirit blew past the finish line, its underdog crew had taken a respectable fourth place.