Threads That Bind And Break
Gossamers filled the skies over Pittsburgh. Translucent as jellyfish and shimmering with thousands of tiny fractured rainbows, the massive beasts defied all logic.
Law watched the gossamers with new eyes. She grew up with the sight of the great living airships swimming above the skyscrapers. As a child, she’d accepted their existence without question; impossible creatures lurked in every corner of Pittsburgh. Since June, though, she’d learned many dangerous secrets and dark truths. The Skin Clan twisted sea creatures into flying airships by using powerful spells. There were larger, more dangerous beasts scattered across the planet that they’d made for war. Nor did the Skin Clan limit their biological tampering to animals; they carried out countless experiments on their slaves. They were cruel and immoral masters and they were in Pittsburgh. Somewhere. Carefully hidden.
Law studied the airships, aware for the first time of the menace that they represented. She never realized before that there were differences between the beasts and the gondolas slung under their bodies; most likely because she’d only seen the viceroy’s airships coming and going. The one lone airship over the airfield was being untethered to make room for the incoming ones. It was the viceroy’s surviving gossamer, as the other animal had been killed earlier in the summer. Its gondola was Wind Clan blue, the importance of which she never knew until June. The color turned the wooden craft into an unmistakable war flag.
The incoming airships were carried by larger beasts. The gondolas were black, trimmed with red or green, and bristled with weapons. The Stone Clan had arrived in force. The prows of the black-and-red gondolas jutted out with saw-like teeth gleaming like blood. The largest drifted toward the Wind Clan gossamer with the menace of a river shark.
The viceroy’s airship fought its tethers, dragging the dozens of elves holding onto the mooring ropes.
Law had three coolers full of fish in the back of her Dodge for Caraway’s majordomo, Chili Pepper. Alton Kryskill’s Ford pickup was backed into the motor court and they were off-loading two wild boars. Normally another forager at an enclave meant that Law had screwed up her delivery time and had lost a customer. Yes, she was running late. Caraway’s enclave, though, was bracing for an invasion from the Stone Clan; they’d buy from both foragers and beg for more.
Law sat on her tailgate, listening to the conversations around her. Since June, she’d had a second unofficial job: freelance spy. She wanted to find the Skin Clan before they could engineer the downfall of Pittsburgh. Nearby gunfire as they arrived had lured Bare Snow off to investigate. Law remained to find out what the enclaves knew about the incoming Stone Clan domana.
The Kryskills all had that wild and wooly Norse god look going on. Alton had slipped a few notches on the scruffy scale since she last seen him in May; his dark blond hair was down to his shoulders and he’d let his chronic five o’clock go to full beard. Alton was getting bad news via his cell phone. He didn’t want to be overheard; he’d drifted to the farthest corner of the motor courtyard. Law could barely make out his snarled questions. “Who? When? Why?” Judging by Alton’s free hand, coiling into a fist, someone was in for a serious beat down. The Kryskills were not people you wanted pissed off at you. His family had pulled an actual cannon out of thin air and kicked monster butt in July. Law wanted to know what had Alton looking so angry.
Not that Alton was the only one upset in the motor courtyard. The elves weren’t happy about their incoming guests.
“Harbingers!” Caraway’s cook worried at the skirt of his white apron. “Harbingers! I can’t believe they sent Harbingers. Here! To our territory! They mean war.”
Chili Pepper focused on counting out American dollars to pay Alton. “You need to wet age the boar and then cook it slowly over a low temperature; you will not be able to serve it tonight.”
“Don’t tell me how to cook,” the cook snapped.
“Then focus on your duties and not on things you cannot change.” Chili Pepper tucked away his leather billfold. He re-counted the bills he’d taken from it. “We are hosting Darkness of Stone. We cannot bring dishonor to Wolf Who Rules by doing it poorly. The distant voices say Darkness will have his six Hands plus three Hands from Cold Mountain Temple and another hundred laedin-caste on top of that.”
Law clenched her jaw to keep her dismay off her face. The warriors with Darkness alone could easily overwhelm the viceroy’s force. The combined might of the three incoming Stone Clan domana might even outnumber the royal troops.
“We don’t have enough meat to feed that many warriors!” the cook cried.
“Calm yourself. Law is here with water produce.” Chili Pepper waved to her. “You can serve the waewaeli tonight and roast the boar tomorrow.”
Alton glanced her way and his eyes narrowed in what might be anger.
What did I do to piss off the Kryskills? The monster fight stated the Kryskills’ alliance fairly clear. She thought they were on the same side. Then again, no one knew what side Law was on. She nodded at Alton, wishing that he’d lose interest in her.
One of the saw-toothed airships drifted over the courtyard, filling the sky and throwing everyone into deep shadows.
Speaking of not knowing which side a person was on…
Alton glanced upward and then focused back on his cell phone.
The cook whispered a curse as the gondola slid overhead, revealing rows of mysterious hatches. Judging by the way all the elves stepped back under the eaves, they were most likely some type of gun ports. The Wind Clan’s reaction to the weapons was unsettling; they didn’t trust the incoming forces.
One thing she’d learned about being a spy was that occasionally you had to risk a few questions to understand everything going on. “Is that his? Darkness?” Law pointed upward.
Chili Pepper nodded in reply to her. He snapped fingers to break his household out of their panic. “The Wyverns will guarantee that the Stone Clan does not harm us. This will be no different than Winter Court. We have done this before domou took Caraway as Beholden, we can do it again.”
“He is a Harbinger?” Law had never heard the word before. “What does that mean?” How trustworthy could he be if all Caraway’s people were scared?
Chili Pepper pursed his mouth like he didn’t like answering, but he did. “Harbingers are our greatest warlords from the Rebellion. For thousands of years, they battled the Skin Clan, taking us from slaves to freedom.”
“Ruthless,” Cook muttered. “Harbingers would level cities. Streets would run with blood.”
“Shush,” Chili Pepper whispered. “We don’t gossip to outsiders about guests.”
There was a loud snap of ropes from the airfield.
“Get her! Get her! There is no one on her!” a distant voice shouted in Elvish.
Law spun around to see the Wind Clan gossamer flying away, trailing broken mooring ropes. As she watched, a dozen tengu rose up from the city, black wings laboring to gain altitude to chase after the airship.
The elves of Caraway’s enclave cried out in wordless dismay.
“The tengu are domi’s Beholden.” Chili Pepper snapped his fingers again. “They will fetch back the gossamer. Get these wild pigs to the slaughterhouse, and carefully. Don’t spill any blood on the cobblestones. Our guests will be here in minutes and it would be in poor taste to have bloody paving.”
While the elves struggled with the big dead pigs, Alton walked over to Law’s Dodge. Normally Law didn’t hang out with men. Most guys didn’t deal well with a woman that could out “man” them at hunting, fishing, shooting, and fighting kind of things. They seemed to think that all those activities were pissing contests where women shouldn’t enter because they lacked a penis. To compensate, most guys turned into loud-mouthed jerks. Alton Kryskill was a rare exception, probably because he had an older sister that could kick the teeth out of any moron who said women should act like the weaker sex.