There hadn’t been time for Moth to grieve. There still wasn’t. “Skyhigh, I think Fiona’s grandfather might be after me. He’s looking for Lady Esme. Maybe he thinks I have her.”
“Do you?”
“No! She must have flown off somewhere before Rendor got there.”
“He’s not just looking for Esme, Moth. If he’s ripping up the walls…”
“And the floors and the furniture!”
Skyhigh’s eyes flicked toward the approaching black mass. Moth realized it was an airship, bigger than any he’d seen before, with two engines suspended from its superstructure and fins along its tail, swept back like a shark’s.
“The Avatar,” pronounced Skyhigh.
Moth’s mouth fell open. He had heard about the Avatar, the newest airship in the fleet. She had taken her maiden flight less than a month ago, setting a record from the yards at Kerre to Capital City. But the Avatar wasn’t a passenger vessel. Rendor himself had designed her. With armored flanks and platforms filled with guns, she was the world’s first lighter-than-air warship.
“That’s why Rendor called the other Governors here—to show them the Avatar,” Moth guessed. “You think?”
“Don’t know. But I’m supposed to be flying escort for her. I gotta get up there, Moth. Quick.”
“Skyhigh, I don’t know where to go,” said Moth. “I have to hide. I have to talk to Fiona, see if she knows anything. I can’t let Rendor find me.”
Eager to get to his dragonfly, Skyhigh puzzled over the problem. “All right,” he mused. “You can’t stay here. And you can’t go back to the apartment.”
Moth looked at him anxiously. “Where, then?”
A light flickered in Skyhigh’s eyes. “I know a place.” His voice dipped to a whisper. “The barn.”
“That rusty old place?”
“Yeah, it’s perfect,” said Skyhigh. “No one goes there ever. I know, because that’s where I go when I want some privacy. There’s even blankets there already.”
Moth’s nose wrinkled at the thought. The “barn” as they called it wasn’t a barn at all, but an abandoned hangar from the old days of the aerodrome. It had quickly grown obsolete, unable to house the newer, larger airships or to take the pounding of winters on the mountain. It was also set back from the rest of the aerodrome.
“Maybe,” said Moth. “You’re sure no one goes there?”
“Trust me, nobody’s ever bothered me up there.” Skyhigh gave a wink to show his meaning. Not surprisingly, he was popular with Calio’s ladies. “Use the west side door,” he told Moth. “It looks rusted shut but it’s not. When you get inside you’ll see a little loft for storing supplies. That’s where the blankets are. There’s some candles up there, too.” Once more he glanced at the approaching Avatar. The ship was clearly visible now, stalking toward the city like a thunderhead. “Listen to me, Moth. You wait there in the barn for me. I’ll get there as soon as I can but you wait, got it?”
Moth nodded. “Yes.”
“Don’t stick your head out or come looking for me. I’ll find out what I can from Fiona and be there as soon as I’m able. I’ll bring you some food, too.”
“All right,” Moth agreed, but his stomach pitched with apprehension. “I’ll wait for you.”
Skyhigh smiled, putting his hand on Moth’s slight shoulder. “We’ll fix this. Just stay safe until I get there.”
IN THE DARK
MOTH WAITED UNTIL the sun was down before lighting his first candle. The supplies Skyhigh had promised him were exactly as described, tucked into a small loft overlooking the floor of the hangar. Moth struck the wooden match against the wall, then touched the flame to the candle wick. The soft light illuminated the countless motes of dust floating around him. From his place in the loft he could see crates of unused parts and the cobwebby skeletons of broken-down aircraft. Outside, a breeze flexed the metal walls of the hangar.
Reaching the barn had been easy. No one had seen Moth leave the aerodrome, crossing over the south side of the field to where the old hangar stood apart like a lonely, rusted farmhouse. Once inside, he had discovered the loft with ease.
Then, he waited.
An unseen draft made the flame on his candle dance. Moth’s stomach rumbled with hunger. In the echoing space of the hangar the noise sounded ridiculously loud. It had been hours since he’d eaten, but his mind wasn’t on food. Skyhigh would bring food, but no one could bring back Leroux. Without wanting to, Moth realized that his life had suddenly collapsed.
“All alone…”
Unable to bear his own thoughts, Moth retrieved the candle and descended the wooden ladder down to the hangar’s floor. Every manner of discarded junk surrounded him. Dusty boxes lined the walls and unused piles of aircraft parts tottered in rusty heaps. Most of it wasn’t worthy of attention, until he discovered a particular mound pushed into a corner and covered by a sooty white tarp. Moth held up his candle for a better look. The bent nose of the thing stuck out from its covering.
“A dragonfly…?”
Eagerly he pulled off the tarp, revealing the broken-down craft beneath. Only three of its four wings were still attached, all of them cracked. The engine was gone completely, and the front landing claws had collapsed so that the whole ship sloped forward. There was no canopy either, just a cramped cockpit of worn-out fabric, but the control sticks and instruments remained.
“Beautiful,” Moth whispered, running his hand over the craft. She was younger than she looked, but the damp air of the hangar hadn’t been kind to her, nor had the dozens of pilots that had probably trained in her. She was first generation, too, and Rendor’s designs had improved a lot over the years.
Moth leaned over the cockpit, about to climb in, when he heard a noise at the other end of the hangar. He held his breath. Finally, the sweet sound of his own name lilted across the darkness.
“Moth? Where are you?”
“I’m here,” Moth called, moving toward the voice with his outstretched candle. The light from the flame reached across the hangar, falling on the worried faces of Skyhigh and Fiona.
“Moth!” Fiona cried. She ran to him with arms out wide, nearly toppling his candle. Melted wax burned his fingers, but he was too happy to care.
“You’re here,” he sighed.
She held on to him. “Poor Leroux. Oh, Moth…”
A knot tied itself in Moth’s throat. “Yeah,” he croaked. He didn’t want to cry, not in front of Skyhigh. “I can’t believe it.”
Skyhigh came out of the darkness with a box in his hands. “We brought food,” he said, holding it out for Moth’s inspection. “You all right so far? Any trouble?”
“No, nothing,” said Moth. “It’s been quiet.” He looked at them both. “What about you? You hear anything?”
“Let’s go up to the loft,” said Skyhigh. “You can eat while we talk.”
He stepped past Moth and headed for the ladder. Fiona looked at Moth helplessly.
“Moth,” she said, “Skyhigh told me what happened. I want to help.”
“It’s your grandfather, Fiona. Did he say anything to you?”
Fiona blanched. “He’s already looking for me.”
Skyhigh was already halfway up the ladder. “C’mon!”
Moth and Fiona followed him, climbing the wooden rungs up to the dusty loft. The candle in Moth’s grip nearly went out as he climbed, one-handed, before giving it over to Fiona. As Skyhigh spread out the blanket, Fiona tipped the melted wax out of the candle and onto the ledge. Gently she set the candle into the wax, blowing on it until it hardened.
“There’s some meat pies, some apples, some cheese…” Skyhigh announced each item as he unpacked the box. “And water. Here…”