Chapter Twenty-two

  Adventurous Comforts

  Elias felt like the biggest fool in the world.

  For months he had stared at that painting sitting atop her old dresser. For months. And while paintings seldom captured the true nature of a person, hers had been accurate enough. He could now see that with his own two eyes.

  He could also see the clear resemblances between Mable and her daughter, Sorea, who had finally returned home for a month while her husband had business in the United North. And if he was being honest, really honest—and he hated to admit this, if only to himself—Elias could even see the characteristics Sorea shared with her brother. She was built nothing like Bertrand, but they had the same inviting eyes, blue as a summer lake.

  Those eyes that he had found so hypnotizing as his met them across the bar, the pages of his book resting unturned. Eyes he had wanted to sketch as she flew away too early the next morning. Eyes he had not expected to see twelve hours later, as they reunited for dinner at the Fairweathers, where Elias still had an open invitation to join the family whenever he desired the comfort of real food.

  “Elias was staying in your bedroom, Sorea,” Mable mentioned for the second time.

  “What,” Sorea said distractedly. “Oh, you mean while I was away. Of course.”

  “Well, you don’t sleep there anymore,” her mother said, probably not intending for it to sound like an accusation, though it had the hint of one. “It’s such a lovely room, and Elias had nowhere to stay when he first arrived here. Now look at him, off running his own company with Bertrand and Briley. Have you met Briley? She’s a sassy young woman, that one, but very capable. You two will hit it off. She’ll be joining us momentarily.”

  Sorea appeared to be absorbing nothing her mother said. “Right.”

  Elias, meanwhile, had his head bowed in devotion to the devouring of food. Eating was as good a hiding place as any, though the portions were finite and his stomach likewise. Mable had prepared dinner tonight: a squash soup served with fresh bread and creamy butter bought from the market that afternoon. It was, like everything Mable produced, perfect.

  There came a knock on the front door.

  Bertrand stood up first and offered to get it. “That must be Briley.”

  In Bertrand’s absence, Mable turned to Elias. “Why don’t you tell Sorea about your new business venture.” She searched for the name. “The Worldly Trading Company?”

  “The Two Worlds Trading Company,” Elias corrected her.

  “Creative name.” Sorea smirked uncomfortably. “What is it you and my brother trade?”

  Now it was Elias looking uncomfortable. “We trade… a range of things,” he explained. “Honestly, we’ll take whatever business we can get at the moment. We have a fast ship, though. We’re hopeful things will pick up soon, and then we’ll figure out our niche.”

  “It’s better to be open than narrowly focused on a business model that may never come to fruition,” Irvin said, as he had said to them before. “The Fairweather Company specializes in high-quality crafting materials and precious stones, but it wasn’t always so. When you and your brother were no taller than this chair, Sorea, our clients were mostly nearby farmers. But one unexpected opportunity turned into two, and so it goes. Let opportunity meet you halfway—that’s the best business model.”

  Sorea seemed less impressed by her father’s sage advice, squinting instead at an appreciative Elias. “I had heard about your new airship. You must tell me later how you acquired such a vessel.”

  It was not a topic Elias enjoyed bringing up. Irvin had warned them about the Graystones and the true price they’d yet to pay, though he also had no sympathy for tax dodgers. Mercifully, Elias spotted Bertrand returning with Briley and said to Sorea, “We met opportunity halfway.”

  Briley plopped herself onto the free seat opposite Elias, next to Sorea, placing a bottle of red wine down next to the candelabra—and the other bottle they had already polished off. Sorea was a quick drinker, and tonight in particular, so was Elias.

  “Apologies for my tardiness.” Briley had closed up Fairweather Provisions before heading over. “I was, well, verbally chained to a rather chatty customer.” She reached across the table and grabbed the silver ladle, wasting no time serving herself soup. She was a few slurps deep before remembering to introduce herself to the woman sitting beside her.

  “Pleasure to meet you too, Briley,” Sorea said, her eyes flicking back to Elias as they had been all evening.

  “While you’re all here, and on the subject of opportunities, I wanted to mention one out east.” Irvin often steered conversations like a ship’s wheel, forcing them in a particular direction, a quality that seemed only natural for a captain and somewhat abrasive at social affairs. But there was no rule banning business talk over dinner at the Fairweathers, or else the quiet captain would have been about as vocal as a closed book. “Have either of you ever been to Azir? I know Bertrand went with me two years back.”

  Elias and Briley shook their heads in unison.

  “I didn’t think so,” Irvin continued. “You may have a reason to change that. The sultan of Azir is a shrewd businessman. He never signs a contract, whether it’s with a supplier or a trader, for more than a year. I recently received a letter informing me that The Fairweather Company is safe for this round. I’ve been doing business with Sultan Atakan for almost a decade now, and the man is… demanding but fair, and he pays on time. Once a year, he invites companies to bid on any contracts he’s not completely content with, or if he simply thinks there might be a better offer out there. There are dozens of opportunities, and interested parties are invited to make their pitches in person. Azir is a major exporter and importer. There are always openings for traders.”

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  Elias, Bertrand, and Briley exchanged glances, trying to read one another and whether they were all on the same page.

  Briley must have thought so. “Azir is far,” she said. “How long is the voyage?”

  “It takes The Sleeping Sparrow five days,” Irvin replied. “Your ship might be able to do it in four, though I wouldn’t leave anything to chance. The sultan will be receiving offers two weeks from today. You should make your decision hastily.”

  “Will he take us seriously?” Elias asked. It was a good question, considering the length of the journey and their experience acquiring new business thus far.

  Irvin considered it carefully. “He will take you as seriously as you take yourselves,” he said. “Sultan Atakan cares about the fundamentals: whether you can do the job, do it well and reliably, and for a competitive price. Come prepared. He doesn’t like presumptuous people. That is your advantage.”

  “So, go low on price again,” Bertrand added. “Same old tactic.”

  “Not too low,” his father retorted. “He’ll want the job done well. His master of coin will be there. She knows the price of things. You should speak to her first. In any event, even the sultan’s smallest contract would be bigger than anything you three have landed to date.”

  “That’s a low bar, father,” his son said.

  “It is a lucrative opportunity,” Irvin insisted. “Don’t get complacent, son.”

  Bertrand turtled into himself. “I wasn’t getting complacent.”

  Elias needed no more convincing, but he stopped short of agreeing on behalf of his business partners. “We’ll… very seriously consider it.” He shot them looks, though no one appeared to be resisting the idea.

  Returning from his shell, Bertrand offered to prepare dessert as Mable helped clear the table. Irvin attended to the fireplace, fetching a bundle of split logs from the backyard, leaving only Elias, Briley, and Sorea sitting with the wine.

  No words were exchanged between the three of them—not vocally, at least—though the same could not be said about glances. Sorea’s stare was a magnifying glass with the full force of the sun. Elias could almost feel his skin sizzling as she silently mouthed, “Don’t. Say. Anything.”

  “I know,” he mouthed back.

  As for Briley, her eyebrows mouthed something of their own.

  Bertrand returned a few minutes later with a tray of yellow custards, looking proud of his creations and then a little confused by the awkward tension that had settled upon the room—thicker than his custard.

  The return of everyone to their respective seats seemed to cut through it. Elias stared longingly into his well-plated dessert, poking at the fresh berries with his spoon.

  “How’s life in New Garden, Sorea?” Bertrand broke the silence as silverware clinked bowls. New Garden was a neighboring state, known for its verdant hardwood forests, quaint countryside hamlets, and charmingly uncontroversial politics. Elias had never been before, though they had flown over it on their way to Sailor’s Rise.

  “Same as ever,” Sorea said. “Pretty and… pretty boring.”

  Sorea’s husband was heir to a successful lumber company, and the two had made—on paper anyway—a respectable pairing. The Fairweathers missed her presence in Sailor’s Rise, as she appeared to miss it herself, but at least New Garden was only a day trip on The Sleeping Sparrow. They visited when they could.

  “It’s so beautiful there,” Mable said. “Peaceful. I think you’ll appreciate the peace when you’re older, perhaps after you’ve pushed out a few children.”

  Sorea leered at her mother, ironically wide-eyed. She was only twenty, two years older than her brother (and an unspeaking guest she may have slept with), though Elias suspected that the real reason for Sorea’s apparent discontent was something else—and not merely the expectations of youth. “Sure” was all she said.

  * * *

  The co-owners of The Two Worlds Trading Company gathered in Captain Fairweather’s wood-paneled office an hour after dinner to discuss business. As the captain had explained to them, their decision would need to be made hastily, and until then—and despite Bertrand insisting they enjoy the evening and leave such matters for the morning—Elias couldn’t focus on anything else.

  Briley was leaning against Irvin’s oak desk as Elias paced and eyed artifacts. He stopped and stared at an old tea-colored map of the Great Continent, his finger hovering near Sailor’s Rise before inching leftward and eventually overtop Azir—far to the west, farther than Elias had ever been from the small pond that spawned him eighteen years earlier.

  Bertrand closed the door behind them and said, “We’ve never flown that far, just the three of us.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem,” Briley replied, “so long as we pack enough food and go prepared.”

  “If something goes awry…” Bertrand trailed off. “We’re a small crew. We could be a target for pirates. It needs to be said. We have to think about these things.”

  “The ship has cannons, Bertrand.” Elias equally felt the need to mention that. “Do you really think we’re going to get attacked by pirates? Has that ever happened to The Sleeping Sparrow?”

  “Only once,” Bertrand said, “but you’ve seen my father and his crew. They’re not an easy target. We will be, and you heard what Jasper said. The material in The Sapphire Spirit’s balloon alone is worth more than entire airships.”

  “That balloon is also our best defense,” Elias argued. “She’s a fast ship, and worst-case scenario, I’ll have my gun.” He had acquired a cheap but functional flintlock pistol a few months earlier, though he hadn’t yet found time for target practice. Still, they had seen him shoot.

  “Don’t get too cocky, kid,” Briley said. “Bertrand actually makes a fair point. Normally, I’d say we could hire a few crew members, but we all know that’s not in the budget. We’ll need to pilot this journey on our own, including loading and unloading. On that note, let’s see if we can find anyone interested in shipping wares to Azir at a discount in the next few days.”

  “I may know someone actually,” Bertrand added, joining Elias in front of the map. He uncrossed his arms and gave his friend a peace-offering backslap. “Fine, fine, you guys. I’m in.”

  Elias peeled his gaze from the map, beaming up at his big friend. “I never doubted you for a minute.”

  “Then I suppose we’re headed on another adventure,” Bertrand said to them both, turning toward the bay window and all that lay beyond its paned glass. “But first, I must venture to the lavatory.”

  With Bertrand departing for the bathroom, Elias and Briley found themselves alone together, both grinning big grins, though Elias may have misinterpreted the reason behind Briley’s uncharacteristic display of delight.

  As he reached into his vest pocket, retrieved his lucky copper, and flicked it into a whirling blur, she pushed herself up from the desk and moseyed a few feet closer to him. She stopped and said, “You slept with his sister, didn’t you?”

  The coin bounced, flipped, and fell still on Irvin’s ornate Azirian rug. Elias confirmed nothing. He suddenly felt like a sinking ship, wondering which holes to patch first, wondering if he might stop the sinking. Not with Briley, he knew. She enjoyed the spectacle of a good disaster too much. She would wait until the water was up to his neck.

  “I didn’t know,” Elias ultimately pleaded. “She was just a stranger at The Thirsty Eagle. She told me her name was Lela. I didn’t know she was his sister. I didn’t know she was married. I didn’t know!” He was whispering and somehow yelling at the same time.

  Briley simply nodded as her smile took on a whole new meaning.

  “You can’t tell him,” Elias warned. “Not ever. I mean it, Briley. I’ll… I’ll kill you. And then I’ll kill Bertrand for knowing. And then I’ll kill myself for having killed you two.”

  She actually let out a chuckle. Briley Soren let out a chuckle. “I won’t tell him, Elias,” she finally said a few seconds before he would have drowned himself. “It would be bad for the business.”