I took two steps into the chaos, two, before I realized the energy of the crowd had shifted.
Layla even sensed it. Her weight shifted on my back, hugging the sacks closer with one hand while looking around. “What is it?” she asked, trying to see around my wings. “What’s…why has the noise gone down?”
That’s what part of the issue was. The thriving throng of business and sales had quieted, the flow of the crowd shifted. I took a large whiff and tried to sort out the scents; magic, food, grease, metal…outside. Someone had just come in. And they…I glanced through the crowd. Twitched.
A flash of white fabric caught my attention. That’s what it was. The specific energy feel of Keepers.
“Keepers,” I whispered. “Keepers are here.”
“Yeah, and we know who they’re here for.” That voice wasn’t Layla’s.
I spun around to find Rod with his head far too close to my own for comfort. Mostly because I hadn’t even heard him approach. Hadn’t even smelled him. He gestured with his head and we snuck away from the crowd as one of the Keepers stood up on something and addressed the crowd.
Damn. Out of time. I wouldn’t be able to purchase any weapons while they were here.
They were assuring everyone they were here on business, that they were looking for a specific criminal, they just needed cooperation, blah blah blah. The crowd, thankfully, became an uproar.
Nobody liked Keepers. Especially nobody here at the market. Sure, they were supposed to protect the law of magic, but mostly they just kept our side from leaking over to the human side. Didn’t seem to be interested in doing the reverse. Humans could come traipsing in and out of the magical society, but one of us steps a foot out of line and it’s a penalty. Do it willingly and knowingly without the proper paperwork and you were a bonafide outlaw.
The market, thankfully, was about free and fair trade. Most had an understanding with Keepers; they could come in and bluster all they wanted, but so long as someone was on Market grounds and hadn’t violated Market rules, Keepers could only tail them until they left. No dragging out, no transportation, no removal. Markets were sanctuaries from Keeper authority so long as you followed house rules.
We trotted through the crowd, Rod picking out the easiest route, and actually made it to the other side.
“Got us some transport out of here,” he was saying. “Pirate ship, three days in the air. I figure that’s enough time to shake Jake from our scent and come up with a plan. And by we, I mean you.” He tossed me a crooked smile. “You’re the tactician, right?”
“And you're the informant,” I shot back. “I make better plans with information. So by we you mean we.”
Layla gasped as we approached the other side of the warehouse and slipped past a human-sized door. She leaned back and wobbled in her seat as she took in the transport lobby filled with old pirate ships. Most of these were actually small, fast makes. Picture steampunk meets mythological flying pirate ships and you’ll get an idea. Metal had been used to reinforce the edges and tips, wire fins or rods replaced the mast on many and almost every single one had some sort of engine attached. Landing legs kept all of them stable on the ground, a huge opening in the roof allowing for takeoff and entry, said opening laced so that the ships actually came up somewhere else in the world. Somewhere not quite as conspicuous as where we went in. Couldn’t have a bunch of pirate ships taking off and landing through the roof of an abandoned warehouse now, could we.
The crowd was lessened here, as pretty much the only beings coming in and out of this area were directly involved with transportation. A few minotaurs or amorphous blobs or bulky shadows worked to get cargo on and off the ships, captains or crew standing around cargo bays or haggling with passengers. But that was about it, and the surging roar was lessened greatly here, only to be broken by an engine or two. There was a center console somewhere, one that dictated who was in the airspace at a time, but even then it was usually taken as guidelines. Most of the captains knew how to read the air around them and took opportunities when they wanted.
Rod led us over to the ship he booked passage on, and the skinniest most hunky-dorky piece of ship I’ve ever laid eyes on appeared before us. If the ships were living things this one would have been a runt. And it looked like a fish, an inflatable udder stuck up under the front, the top, and around the back, with netting running from the mast to the whole border at the top of the ship. Pipes ran back and forth along the sides in crazy patterns, seeming to go in and out at random, and the whole thing seemed to puff out clouds every two seconds.
“There you are!” I heard someone call out, coming from the mist. A long coat swirled about them, a heavy clunking of thick boots as they strode forwards. Shockingly blonde hair was curled and twisted up around their head in a myriad of braids and knots, small ruby red earrings hanging from either side of their head like two drops of blood. “I almost took off without you.”
“And you are?” Layla asked, instantly shifting her seat back. I gave a huff and hunched my shoulders, throwing her forwards again and shooting her a look over my should. We talked about how to greet people, and how withdrawing and being cagey with newcomers was often a sign that said ‘I don’t know how to handle myself, please take advantage of me’.
“Our captain,” Rod said. “Miles.”
Now out of the mist, she bowed and flashed us a small smile. “Wow, a thief and two aliens, one of which is super rare. Your story better be a good one.”
Rod shrugged. “Beauty in the eye of the beholder.”
Miles nodded with an answering one-shouldered shrug. “Yeah, but a good story is in the telling. At any rate, let’s get you all loaded up so we can take off. Keepers hovering around the place, you know.”
We followed her up to her ship, a set of barn doors stapled into the wood with one side open and a rope ladder hanging down. The flap of white cloth caught my attention, and I took a whiff.
The mist cleared to show us a Keeper standing at the ladder, arms crossed with a long spear-like weapon carried openly against his shoulder.
