Chapter 9

The next day, Maeryn sat in the waiting chamber for the Council of Winds, waiting her turn to be seen. She’d been there for an hour and a half already, but in fairness there had been more than a dozen people waiting before she’d arrived. There were only two now ahead of her, so she guessed she had anywhere from fifteen to twenty minutes left, assuming that the others didn’t take unexpectedly long.

The chamber was austere, with high ceilings and large windows that let in the morning light, casting long shadows across the polished wooden floor. The distant murmur of conversations and the occasional creak of chairs shifting were the only sounds breaking the silence.

It was a struggle not to fidget too much, though. Maeryn had never been good at sitting still and looking proper, and anyone who knew her could attest to that. And it certainly didn’t help that her new Zephyrian clothes felt weird. Her preferred Geovan style was simple and functional, prioritizing ease of movement and carry capacity. What she was wearing now was the complete antithesis.

In order to emphasize that she was to be taken seriously in her apparent role as leader of her crew, Maeryn had picked out clothes that the proprietress of the clothing shop had insisted was common to airship captains: a long-sleeved button-up jacket and sleek-looking dress pants, both dyed a hue somewhere between off-white and sky blue. Maeryn hadn’t been fully convinced that the woman had been telling the truth until Frankie confirmed it, though.

The jacket’s stiff collar chafed against her neck, and it took a consistent effort of will not to pluck or pick at it, to try to stretch her arms and get more range of movement. Every time she shifted in her seat, the fabric rustled unnaturally against her skin. She missed the comfortable utility of her Geovan attire, the way it moved with her rather than against her.

Maeryn reviewed her notebook again, making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything and refamiliarizing herself with Terrance’s descriptions of the councilors. Sipund, the diehard traditionalist; Dreen, the by-the-book stickler; Lorn, the amiable face who dealt in favors. While she was sure that Terrance was telling the truth as he saw it, she’d prefer to make her own first impressions as well. Maybe they’d surprise her and be reasonable about the whole thing.

“That’d be a change,” she muttered softly to herself, amused at the thought.

She glanced around the waiting chamber, observing the other people who were there. Most seemed as uncomfortable as she was, shifting in their seats, whispering in hushed tones, or staring blankly ahead. The tension in the room was palpable, everyone bracing for their turn before the Council. Maeryn couldn’t help but wonder what brought each of them here and what issues they hoped to resolve.

It was a stark contrast to how things were handled back home. In Geova, the Elders didn’t stay in one room and make people come to them… part of their daily duties involved making the rounds in their communities, being seen and making time for people as needed. It allowed them to see and understand problems for themselves instead of being distant administrators.

On the other hand, the Elders couldn’t possibly visit everywhere in a given settlement every day, which meant that sometimes it was difficult for people who urgently needed them to find them. Maeryn frowned. There were pros and cons to both approaches, though she much preferred the Geovan method. It felt more personal.

A movement at the front of the room caught her attention. The door to the Council chamber opened, and a tall, stern-looking man stepped out, nodding to the next person in line. Maeryn straightened in her seat, her turn drawing nearer. She closed her notebook, tucking it securely into her satchel, and readied herself.

Fifteen long minutes later, it was finally Maeryn’s turn. She stood and briskly walked into the Council chamber, trying not to let her anxiety show.

Thankfully, the chamber itself was rather subdued. It was something for a small room, with three desks held adjacent to each other at an angle. Sipund sat at the desk to her left, appearing quite disinterested. Dreen was on Maeryn’s right, looking as stern and no-nonsense as Terrance had predicted. And Lorn was right in front of her with a smile.

“Hello there!” Lorn greeted warmly. “You’re a new face. Did you just fly in?”

“Yesterday,” Maeryn confirmed. “Thanks for seeing me so quickly.”

“That’s our job! So, what’s your name, and what can we do for you?”

Maeryn took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. “I’m Maeryn, Captain of the airship Stonewing. My crew and I are on a research mission regarding both the Mist and the mana depletion crisis. While my lead researcher has already consulted with the researchers at Tempest Terrace, it’s come to my attention that the mana researchers have been secluded for some time.”

While Maeryn kept her eyes on Lorn, she could see Sipund straighten at his desk, looking far more invested in the conversation. She swallowed before continuing. “It’s my belief that the researchers are in the noble district, for what I assume are fairly obvious reasons. My colleagues and I require either an escort or written permission to enter.”

Dreen leaned forward. “Please elaborate on what you mean by ‘fairly obvious reasons.’”

Maeryn nodded at her. She’d rehearsed her answer to that question for a while, and she was hopeful it would pass muster. “Working under the assumption that you want the mana researchers to be able to continue their work with minimal interruptions, it follows that you want them in a location that is fairly reclusive, guarded well, yet has access to everything they might need. They would presumably also need to give regular reports on their findings, considering the mana depletion issue, meaning that they can’t be too far away.”

Maeryn would have shrugged, but the jacket restricted her shoulders enough that it was physically more difficult than she wanted. Instead, she let out a light cough. “The noble district meets that criteria the best, so far as I could tell. I admit, I could be wrong, but I don’t think I am.”

The councilors exchanged looks. The genial smile that Lorn wore slowly faded from his face. “I suppose there’s no point in denying it. The researchers are indeed housed in the noble district, though I’ll thank you not to spread that around.”

Relief flooded Maeryn; they’d bought her perfectly-reasonable explanation. “I wouldn’t think of it,” she replied simply. “That said, I do rather need that research. What would it take to let my colleagues and I meet them briefly?”

There was silence for a few moments as the councilors considered her words. “Suppose we allowed you in,” Sigurd said slowly, as if tasting each word before letting it flow from his lips. “Suppose you got your hands on the research notes. What’s your next step?”

Maeryn’s brain went blank. “My next step?” she echoed.

“Yes. What do you plan to do with that research?” Siguard pressed.

“I…” Maeryn closed her eyes and took a deep breath, centering herself. “It will depend on what my lead researcher advises. We may fly onwards to other cities, or take Mist samples for experimentation, or stay in the city and petition to join your researchers, or… there are many possibilities.”

“You sound very unsure of your future plans, Captain Maeryn,” Lorn observed with a frown. “What are the terms of your research mission?”

Maeryn’s heart leapt into her throat. “The terms… Right.” She cleared her throat, as if preparing to recite the terms verbatim, trying desperately not to show that she was making it up as she went along. Her mind flew through official-sounding terms even as she spoke, trying to put together something convincing. “I am to house and transport Lead Researcher Daniel and any team he establishes, and provide any reasonable assistance I deem necessary in his pursuit on… on researching and-slash-or resolving the Mist and mana depletion issues.”

There. That sounded good, right?

Much to Maeryn’s dismay, the frowns on all three Councilors’ faces deepened.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

“That seems somewhat ill-defined,” Dreen commented, her voice harder than before.

Panic started to spread through her chest, but Maeryn decided to try a new tactic: agreement and passing the issue to someone nonexistent. “It does, yes. I had a similar response, but… Well, I hesitate to speak ill of leadership…”

The words tasted like ash in her mouth, but it seemed like her troubled response assuaged some of the Councilors’ concerns. “Go on,” Sipund offered, sounding gruff but not quite unkind.

“Well, I don’t know for sure,” Maeryn hedged, “but I have heard rumors that there is pressure on certain decision-makers, and… well, I think that we may have been sent out here as something of a gamble. If either the Mist or the mana depletion issues are resolved, then trade with Geovans could potentially resume, negating the need for any… unpleasant decisions?” she finished weakly. “Again, I don’t know for sure.”

The Councilors exchanged glances, then settled back into their chairs. “That adds up,” Sipund muttered. “This is just the sort of thing Councilor Perry would go for, that fool.”

“That said, there is one issue that I’ve been wondering about,” Lorn said quietly. “Captain Maeryn… how old are you?”

“I’m… sixteen.”

“And already captain of an airship. Stonewing, you said?”

Maeryn started to feel a familiar rock form in her gut. She knew what was coming. Depths and damnation… “Yes, Councilor.”

Dreen’s eyes flashed. “That is quite an odd name, now that you mention it, Lorn.”

“It is,” Maeryn agreed softly, bracing herself.

“Go on, Captain. Why is it named Stonewing?” Lorn coaxed knowingly.

Yep. He had figured it out. There was no other possible answer. Maeryn closed her eyes, resigning herself to failure, before she opened them again to look at the Councilors, straightening her back and standing tall. “Because it’s a Geovan airship,” she admitted matter-of-factly. “Because my colleagues and I are Geovan.”

Sipund leapt to his feet, suddenly enraged. “Geovan! You little spy!”

“I am not a spy!” Maeryn refuted, looking directly at Lorn. Every instinct she had said that he was the man to convince if there was to be any hope of snatching success from the jaws of defeat. “Our mission is exactly what I said it was. We’re gathering research in order to end the Mist and mana depletion problems. It’s obvious that your flying cities aren’t causing either problem - somehow, though I have no idea how you’ve managed to maintain flying cities without copious mana - and our own research indicates that the critical mana depletion point where the Mist barriers will fail is imminent. I don’t care about Zephyrian secrets, and we’ll happily share what knowledge we’ve attained as well.”

“She lies!” Sipund howled.

“Why wear a Zephyrian Captain’s coat?” Dreen asked critically.

“Why would I not wear clothes that your city sells, that allow me to communicate my station and my responsibilities?” Maeryn retorted, her eyes not moving from Lorn’s. “You wouldn’t have respected me had I come in my Geovan clothes.” She put her hands on her hips and glared, utterly fed up with trying to justify herself. “I’m here, following your laws, making a request through the official channels, instead of doing anything… I don’t know, illegal? Illicit? Unsavory? Pick an adjective.”

“Do I have to? All of those are good options,” Lorn muttered.

Maeryn’s lips twitched, but she wrestled away the urge to grin. She was always a fan of good sass, but she was trying to make a point here! “In any case, what would you have had me do instead?”

There was silence for a long moment, though the redness in Sipund’s face grew darker as he struggled to contain his anger. Dreen’s face remained impassive, her fingers lightly tapping her desk as she considered Maeryn’s words… until she finally let out a sigh, and reached up to rub her temples, apparently to stave away a headache. “Indeed, you have followed the rules and regulations thus far. However, you must understand that your Geovan background complicates things, correct?”

Maeryn nearly jumped as Sipund slammed his a fist into his desk. “Complicated? This isn’t complicated at all.” Sipund’s voice had lowered to almost-conversational level, and Maeryn’s eyes involuntarily drifted to look at him. She immediately wished she hadn’t looked; Sipund’s face had lost its bluster, and was instead harder and more murderous than many of the veteran hunters from back home.

Maeryn shifted her stance, spreading her feet slightly and bending her knees in order to give herself as much agility and power as she could in these abyssal clothes. She wished that she’d been permitted to bring a weapon inside, but there was nothing for it. If Sipund attacked, she’d have to run. Attacking the Councilors wouldn’t help anyone or anything, even in self-defense.

“Look at her. She’s a Geovan. You know as well as I do that they’re responsible for all the wyvern shit going on in the world.” Sipund stated coldly. “More and more Mist is being constantly generated on the surface. You won’t find any being generated up here. The only ones doing anything on the surface are the Geovans. This isn’t exactly difficult math!”

“We aren’t making the Mist!” Maeryn protested, only for Sipund to raise his voice over her, drowning her out.

“Lorn! Dreen! What we have here is an opportunity! A Geovan spy, right here! This is an opportunity for us to collect vital intelligence!”

Maeryn tensed and braced herself, mind whirling through the next steps. Out the door, through the building, get outside. Should she find Frankie or Dan first? Dan. Frankie didn’t stand out as much, and she knew how to be subtle when she needed to be. Once Dan knew what was going on, then they could try to find Frankie, and make a run for their airship. What about Terrance? No, there was nothing she could do for him. Terrance hadn’t left any way for her to contact him. He’d either meet them at the airship or not.

It wasn’t a great plan, but it was the best she had.

That said, Maeryn was completely and thoroughly angry now, especially as neither Lorn nor Dreen immediately refuted Sipund’s suggestion. “So this is how Zephyrians treat people who come in peace and actually try to solve problems without breaking the law. I guess my Elders were right,” Maeryn spat. Caustic words emerged from her throat as if by second nature, but she regretted none of them. “You call us barbaric, but look in a Depths-forsaken mirror. At least I had the decency to actually check things instead of condemning people based on a half-baked idea.”

That was apparently one insult too far, as Sipund’s face twisted with rage, and he began to stalk over to her, only to be halted by a ringing command from Dreen, who had also stood from her chair. “Enough! If you take a single step more, Sipund, you will be in violation of our own laws and I will be required to arrest you!”

Everyone stopped. “You can’t be serious,” Sipund snarled.

“I am perfectly serious, Sipund. Captain Maeryn has broken no laws, and it is not yet against the law for a Geovan to set foot on Cloudreach,” Dreen reminded him coolly, folding her arms. “I must insist, however, that all further conversation be held… respectfully.” She shot a stern glare at Maeryn, who met her gaze indignantly but said nothing in return. Apparently getting the message, Dreen’s confrontational stance softened. “I apologize for the treatment you received from my fellow Councilor.”

Maeryn’s fingers tapped against her leg as she struggled to control her anger. Dreen was a potential ally, and alienating her would ruin everything, especially as Sipund was a lost cause. “... I apologize for any mischaracterizations I may have made.”

Lorn’s lips twitched; he must’ve caught that Maeryn hadn’t actually apologized for anything she’d said. “It seems to me,” he began slowly, catching everyone’s attention, “that we’re in something of a quandary. Captain Maeryn’s cause appears to be peaceful and just, and she’s gone through the correct channels to get where she needs to be. However, the fact of the matter is that she’s Geovan, and the possibility that the mana research will be used for, shall we say, nefarious ends? Must be accounted for.” He winked at Maeryn. “Nefarious. How’s that for an adjective?”

A smile forced its way onto Maeryn’s face despite herself. “Not bad, suitably dramatic, not as cheesy as ‘dastardly’, but I don’t like how it makes me out to be either a villain or unwitting pawn. I rate it eight out of ten.”

“Fair enough,” Lorn replied with a chuckle, before his smile fell. In an instant, his face morphed into the picture of deadly seriousness. “More to the point, this isn’t something that is easily compromised. Tensions between our people are too high. We three Councilors have a duty to both lead and represent our people, and as you have no doubt noticed, the idea of helping a Geovan with anything is… well, anathema to a good portion of our populace.”

While Lorn’s eyes didn’t leave Maeryn’s, the tiniest tilt of his head in Sipund’s direction made his point exceptionally clear.

“So,” he continued, “I have a proposition. Your crew at present is entirely Geovan, yes?” At Maeryn’s slow nod, he clapped his hands and smiled once again. “Then how about this? While it’s out of the question to share our research with a purely Geovan team, I think it would be infinitely more palatable to share our research with a Zephyrian noble who just so happens to be working with Geovan specialists.”

Dreen gave a slow nod, visibly considering it. “Yes… that would work nicely, and fit within the existing precedents of sharing the research data with Zephyrian nobility as it stands.”

“I don’t like it,” Sipund growled. “But considering that their chances of convincing any Zephyrian nobility whatsoever might as well be zero… Fine. If they prove me wrong I’ll keep my beak shut.”

“And there we have it.” Lorn spread his arms wide. “Your challenge, Captain Maeryn, is to find a sponsor. Find a Zephyrian noble willing to sponsor you. Either financially, or by joining your crew and putting his own neck on the line. Succeed in doing that, and I’ll personally walk you and your research team directly to our researchers to compare notes.”

Maeryn took a deep breath. It wasn’t ideal, but at least it wasn’t a complete denial. “Understood. Thank you for your time. I’ll be back.”

Sipund snorted derisively as she turned her back and left the chamber. “Good luck with that.”

His voice rankled enough that Maeryn swore right then and there that she’d not only succeed, but rub his face in it just as hard as she could, politics and good manners be damned.