“Yes.”
Sicarius disappeared so quickly, she guessed he’d been planning to do it whether she asked or not.
Amaranthe and the others set to scraping coal aside to create depressions. Maldynado knelt beside her and helped while Basilard and Yara dug on the other side of the car.
“What happens when someone misses that corporal?” Maldynado asked.
“I’m hoping he annoys his superiors as much as he did me and that people will be so relieved he’s not around that they won’t come looking for him.”
“The army doesn’t work that way. Everybody’s always reporting in to someone else.”
“I know,” Amaranthe said. “I don’t expect to make it all the way to the Scarlet Pass without something happening, but maybe we’ll get lucky. It’s only four hours away.”
“Uh huh, and what happens if we don’t get lucky?”
“We’ll launch our current plan early. Most likely with more bullets flying in our direction, because we won’t have our distraction.”
Maldynado touched his injured temple. “As the night goes on, I’m wishing more and more that I’d purchased some of that cider.”
Chapter 12
Akstyr joined Books in the dirigible’s navigation cabin. Maps were tented over levers, and open manuals sprawled across gauges, leaving little of the control panel visible. Books was hunched over it, scrutinizing the papers so hard that he didn’t notice someone had come in. Akstyr hoped there wasn’t a problem with the dirigible. The pilot had escaped while they’d been rummaging around in the mines, so there was nobody to turn to for help.
“I’ve been studying the implants,” Akstyr said. “It’s hard because they try to leap into your skin when you touch them. It’s real dangerous of me even to look at them, but I’ve got some ideas.”
He waited for a response-he wouldn’t have minded a little praise or encouragement for taking on the difficult task-Books didn’t acknowledge him.
Whatever. Akstyr sat down in the co-pilot’s chair. Darkness had come hours earlier, and he couldn’t see much outside the forward window. After a few minutes, Books stood tall, his head nearly brushing the ceiling, and rubbed the back of his neck. He yawned, spotted Akstyr, and jumped in surprise, cracking his head on the low ceiling.
“You didn’t notice me come in?” Akstyr asked. “Truly? Sicarius would have yelled at you. Well, not yelled but glared in that icy ball-withering way of his.”
“Probably true.”
“You figure out why those stowaways were lurking in our engine room?”
“I have several hypotheses, and none of them would be good for the team. There’s little we can do about it now.” Books rubbed his lips and frowned at the papers as if they were wayward students, running around one of his classrooms and ignoring his teachings. “I believe we’ve arrived at our destination in the Scarlet Pass.”
“Then why do you look so worried?”
Books leaned forward and peered into the darkness below. “Landing on a mountain ledge in the dark presents a challenge.”
“You landed us by the mine.”
“In a flat, stump-filled field with good visibility, yes,” Books said.
“If you crash, the blasting sticks will probably blow us up.”
“If I crash… it probably won’t matter.”
Akstyr leaned forward to peer out the window. Night had fallen, and snow drifted from the dark sky. He could make out the white tips of mountains in the background and a cliff nearby-a big cliff. What might have been railway tracks ran along a ledge on the cliff. To the side, the ground dropped away into a canyon. Nothing looked like a promising landing spot for a dirigible.
“Wait, why do we have to land?” Akstyr asked.
Books was muttering something about a lack of running lights, and he started to glare at Akstyr-he probably had a lecture on his lips-but he paused thoughtfully. “That’s… actually a good point.”
“You needn’t sound shocked.”
“Go see if there’s some rope on board. I think I can hover in place while you climb down to the ground and set the explosives.”
“Nice of you to volunteer me for that.” Akstyr had been thinking along those lines anyway, but didn’t like someone assuming he wanted to risk himself.
“I have the most experience piloting the ship, so it’s logical for me to stay here.”
“A day at the controls doesn’t make you an expert.” Akstyr said, though he pushed himself to his feet. A few minutes later, he returned with a coil of rope and two bundles of explosives. “I’m leaving half of the blasting sticks here. I don’t think I can slide down a rope with the whole box. Besides, if I get myself killed, you may need the rest to try again.”
“A surprisingly noble sentiment.”
“Don’t get used to it. I’m feeling sentimental because I’m about to put on a rucksack full of volatile explosives, and I know I’ll be dead if I fall or trip down there.” Akstyr meant to sound nonchalantly unconcerned, but it didn’t quite work.
“We’re hovering in place now.” For the first time, Books looked away from the viewing window and the controls to regard Akstyr. “Be careful down there.”
“Obviously,” Akstyr said. “But, look, if anything… happens, could you let my mother know I died heroically or something?”
“Your mother? I didn’t know you had one.”
“I didn’t know I had one any more either, but she found me a couple of days ago. I guess ’cause we’ve been mentioned some in the papers.” Akstyr shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. She wasn’t around for most of my life, so I don’t care what she thinks. Forget it. Don’t worry about telling her anything.”
“I will locate her and let her know you died well, should it come to that.”
“Whatever.” Akstyr headed for the door, but paused with his hand on the jamb. “Books, do you think… Do people ever really change? Or if someone says they’ve changed, do you think it’s more likely that they’re angling for something? Trying to use you somehow.”
Books considered him for a long moment, and Akstyr had the feeling he was being judged. He was about to growl a, “Never mind,” and leave when Books spoke.
“I suppose my answer depends on what sort of change you have in mind, but if people are properly motivated, or deeply affected by something they experience, they can change. That doesn’t mean they’re not still angling for something. The most charitable people in the world are choosing altruism, not because it’s a noble endeavor, but because being noble fulfills a need within them.”
Akstyr struggled to find his answer in Books’s speech. He should have been more specific. “So if a mother who abandoned her child ten years ago suddenly wants to reconnect, it might be because it’d… fulfill some need within her?” He struggled not to roll his eyes at the mawkish language. “Not because she wanted something specifically from him?”
“It’s possible. Maybe she’s always had regrets about leaving you. Maybe she’s realizing that, having given up on her child, she’ll have no one to care for her as she grows older. Maybe she wants to make amends for past grievances before it’s too late.”
Akstyr scratched at the doorjamb. Yes, some of that made sense, he thought.
“You might as well talk to her and give her a chance. You might regret not doing so later. When she’s gone…” Books’s focus turned inward, and he no longer seemed to be seeing Akstyr. “Trust me, it’s better to find peace with family while they’re still alive. You never know when the world will take someone from you.”
“Or when you’ll blow yourself up,” Akstyr murmured and walked out.
When he’d gathered his supplies and checked five times to make sure the blasting sticks were secured in his rucksack, he headed for a hatch in the floor of the engine room. Snowflakes blew past the opening. Their intensity had increased in the last few minutes, and Akstyr could barely see the massive cliff wall a few meters away from the dirigible. Its jagged contours, carved from the mountain with pickaxes and blasting sticks, had a dark, ominous quality to them. Night and the blowing snow made the ground and the tracks hard to see as well. Books better keep the dirigible in place; Akstyr wanted to land on the ledge, not in the ravine next to it.