The night before the Medrasti Regatta was pitch black under heavy clouds, but the parade grounds glowed in the fires filling the billowing silks of a hundred airships. Though everything was tinged red and orange, Maillee could see the promise of vibrant colors. House crests boldly adorned the private racing yachts of the Calavika nobles; intricate weaves announced the competitors from Hurst and Kordika; striking color block prints from the Protectorates stood shoulder to shoulder with the muted amber and pale blue of the desert raiders. 

Maillee gave these latter a particularly wide berth as she wound between the tethers straining to hold the hulls to ground. Although she was not naive about the ways of airship captains, those of the Tauoine announced more bluntly their true avocation.

She nodded to burly, shirtless Trask, keeping watch beneath Winsome Wind. The gusts that heralded the coming storm were picking up, causing the bound ships to bob and sway in unison. Maillee already had her leather flight suit buttoned tight, but everyone was hoping the rain would hold off until the starting bolt was fired.

"Ready then, Miss Maillee? Your first Regatta. You must be excited."

"You've no idea, Mr. Trask. I've been up all night going over the charts. I think I have a good plan of attack for Captain Bel."

"Do you, now?" Trask laughed as he fought to tighten a bucking tether line against the wind. "I'm betting the Captain has some ideas of her own."

Maillee grinned. "Well, just suggestions, of course."

"Naturally. Well, get up the rope, Miss. The sky is lighting up. They'll be sounding the warning soon."

She nodded once, vigorously. "Trask, one question." She didn't wait for permission but pushed right ahead. "Those raider yachts. Do they, you know, try to take out the competition?"

"Pah!" he shook his head. "The Ilari are honorable and honest. They'd quit the race to help a struggling ship, I've seen it happen. No, the ones you got to worry about are the rich bastards from the Houses. They'll cheat, sabotage, and outright attack if they think they can get away with it. Want my advice? Stick close to Golden Dawn. Her captain's one of the best and you couldn't ask for a finer competitor. She's light and fast, though. Her crew can tack, climb, reverse, and drop on a pinhead. That open catamaran hull gives enormous stability and variable lift. They can use the silks to help tack. They're going to be your biggest challenge right off the ground."

"Thanks, Trask, you're the best!" She gave him a quick hug, which he returned briefly with one arm before going back to the cable.

"Good luck, Miss Maillee!"

She started up the rope ladder under the shadow of Winsome Wind's hull. Above her, the soft glow of the burners shone through the open hatch.

Unconsciously, she glanced to her left and caught a face watching her over the gunwale of a neighboring yacht. He was a young Palaji noble wearing expensive, stylish leathers. He made no effort to conceal the fact that he had been watching her, but after a moment turned away with a slight shrug, deliberately shifting his attention to his own rigging.

Maillee felt the disdain like a slap across the face. To this man, she was less than a servant. Whatever happened, Maillee decided, they must utterly trounce this fop and his expensive yacht. But her heart fell as she cleared her own deck and looked over to identify the colors of her neighbor. This was Star of Twilight, the premier racing vessel of Tornay House, four-time winner of the Terrazzo Relay, Captained by Suurt-born Tjek zad Shamma and his crew. Her resolve reasserted itself after her initial shock. They would find a way. Time to go find her captain.

Captain Bel was on the starboard quarterdeck, talking with her first mate, Talea, and her helmsman, Voorandemurnuth. "Maillee," she called out, and the other two officers turned to watch her climb the short ladder.

"Mam," Maillee saluted lightly, coming up on the deck.

"You have some charts for us," the Captain nodded toward the case slung over Maillee's shoulder.

"Yes, Mam. I have some ideas to run by you," she said, slipping the map case off and moving to the chart table against the aft wall that led up to the poop.

"What do you make of the storm? Voor thinks the rain will start before the bolt, but Tal and I think we can get above the clouds before the heavy stuff hits."

"No, Mam, Mr. Voor is right," she said firmly, pulling out her drift charts and spreading them across the chart board. She closed the glass over the chart to seal it against rain and took a wax pencil out of a sleeve pocket. "You see the speed indicated here and here," she tapped the glass and made light arrows with the wax. Beneath the glass, lines and swirls lightly glowed and slowly slid across a midnight blue background, translating and mapping the intricate dance of divine breath they called the Synoptic. "But," she continued, "the storm front will hit us just before first light. It's a southeast wind gusting at 30 knots. That will pass in just a few minutes, then we'll get sustained winds south by southeast at 20 to 24 knots, and the rain will slacken to a steady fall. I believe most of the racers will wait until then to move."

Bel looked at her with an eyebrow raised. "Most?"

Maillee felt her face flush slightly. Her confidence evaporated as these three seasoned race veterans looked at her with slightly amused expressions.

"Respectfully, Mam," Maillee said with a slight tremble in her voice, "I think we could ride the storm front if we trim sails immediately when the bolt is fired, but stay low over the racers south of us. I've just been over there, and those are all heavier ships. I believe they will wait for better conditions to launch."

Bel looked at her, a ghost of a smile still on her face. "If they do launch, we'll crash right into them."

"Mam," Maillee's voice cracked. "I can get us higher, faster than they can rise. I promise."

Voor couldn't hold it in any longer. He burst out in a deep bellied laugh, slapping his thigh. "I told you she has a pirate heart, through and through!"

Bel grinned at Tal, who smiled back. "Welcome to the Winsome Wind, Miss. You sure you can control buoyancy to that accuracy?"

"To a finger's width, Mam." She nodded vigorously, still not quite steady with her voice.

“And what of the Nishá? Are the currents in our favor?”

Maillee shifted her attention back to the drift chart’s soft blue-green glow, and all turned and leaned in with her. “In brief, yes. You can see here,” she drew a long arc with the grease pencil, “a building front full of organics and heavy with water-sign that is pushing in from the east. We’ll have to account for that in about three hours. But prior to that, we’ll have modest resistance against the drag boards from this southerly dry, stoney current.”

Bel nodded once. "Tal, we'll manage with the staysails. Standby to reach the booms, and two on the spanker. All hands duty stations and wait for the bolt. Artefex, to the burner deck, please."

"Yes, Mam!" Maillee replied smartly. She felt the excitement rising, twisting her stomach and causing her heart to hammer. Sliding down the ladder rails, she glanced over at Star of Twilight, looking for her Artefex under the burners. She saw a dark robed figure in silhouette against the flame light, Ónen Terst, one of her teachers at the Ildrach. She had a healthy respect for his power and skill, but she also knew that Artefexis were only permitted to help with buoyancy. She would not be going head to head with him, and she could be certain he would be able to easily avoid any collision caused by an altitude mistake on her part. Whether Star of Twilight's captain or her arrogant lordling was interested in trying to cut them off during launch was another matter.

She quickly scaled the ladder to the burner deck where the furnace team was trimming the flame collars and adjusting the airflow to keep the fire in check. When they needed to turn up the heat, they would open the vents, work the bellows, and tighten the collars to force columns of superheated air up into the silks. That would provide her with the energy she needed for her Arte. "Artefex on deck!" yelled the hopper mate, mid-shovel.

Everyone stopped what they were doing to snap to attention, but Maillee immediately called out, "As you were! Burner chief, report please."

"All burners hot, Miss. Hoppers full. Lower reserve hoppers topped off. Bellows ready. Collars open. Flame level one." He fell in beside her as she walked around the burner assemblies, inspecting the vents and fill chutes.

Horns blared across the parade ground, piercing the din of the ground support and boat crews. "Launch warning!" Maillee shouted. "Charge all chutes! Stokers to your stations! Chief, stand by collar control. Wait for my order."

She moved to the aft rail to get a view of the quarterdeck, eyes on Captain Bel. The Captain had one hand on the wheel, looking down the starboard gunwale to where first mate Tal stood with one foot up on the rail and one hand wound in her swing line, ready to jump to the outrigger.

"Standby tether release!" Tal called out.

Captain Bel 's right hand went up and she looked astern and down to the race pavilion, surrounded by pennants snapping in the suddenly ferocious wind. A blinding flash followed directly by an enormous crack of thunder nearly knocked Maillee to her knees. Bel didn't flinch or change her gaze.

"Flame up!" Maillee called behind, without letting the Captain out of her peripheral vision.

The clatter of sapwood charcoal echoed from a half dozen yachts around them as Artefexis gave similar commands. The rain hit seconds later, a wall of wind-driven water that drenched them all instantly and drew a dark silver curtain across the view from the deck. The sky was slowly getting light behind the storm, but still the bolt didn't fire. Her four-man team, one third of the entire vessel's crew, kept moving under the protective rain shadow of the giant silks.

"Artefex," called the Chief, "the silks are cooling, Miss."

"Collars tight," she replied. Then, calming herself and reaching out with her senses, she examined the Nishá around the silks, the heated air within mixing with the cold water cascading down the balloons. Careful not to touch the energy of surrounding boats, which would be claimed by their own Artefexis, she drew heat from the burners and built a shaping of warm air on the outside of the silk. "Maximum flame," she instructed the chief, then glanced down to the Captain.

Out of her peripheral vision, she caught the flash of a flaming ballista bolt arc into the sky from the pavilion in perfect time with Bel's fist dropping. Tal's voice rang out across the deck, loud enough to drown out the surrounding calls from those nearby yachts that chose to launch in the deluge. "All away, all away! Booms out!"

Four mallets struck the locking wedges simultaneously and the Winsome Wind leapt skyward like a hound off the leash. "Trim collars!" Maillee shouted to be heard above the thunder and roar of rain. She shaped the heat in the balloon, balancing lift to just clear the heavy ship to their immediate south, which remained tightly fastened to its tethers.

The wind caught them instantly on the beam, driving hard southeast and tipping them dangerously to starboard. Two sleek Tauoine sloops loomed suddenly close off their bow, maneuvering skillfully with nothing more than a single storm jib and a trysail. Instinctively, Maillee started to form a binding on the drag boards to push against the Nishá, but stopped herself - if she used Arte for anything but strict vertical displacement, they would be instantly disqualified.

She needn't have worried. The booms swung to, and the staysails snapped tight. Voor spun the wheel hard to starboard, jamming the rudder and outrigger ailerons right, at the same time that the crew reached the spanker to correct their attitude and align the vessel with the wind. The subtle Arte of the drag boards embedded in the rudder snagged against the currents of the Synoptic like a ship on the seas, and Winsome Wind heeled-to smoothly.

 They ran parallel to and slightly behind the Ilari boats, which were climbing precipitously to clear the storm. Maillee kept her focus on the heat shaping, and held them low over the tethered ships. With all the other early starters trying to get above the weather, Captain Bel was free to let them run before the wind, and she ordered all six staysails to take maximum advantage of their early start.

Some of the more conservative captains were getting nervous of the lead that Winsome Wind was getting, and started ordering their own launches. Maillee could easily spot them, now that the other yachts had ascended. She managed their altitude to slip over or slide under them, and allow Voor to hold a steady course against both wind and Synoptic.

She was intent on matters up ahead when the chief screamed above the storm, "Artefex!" He pointed up and behind, where Star of Twilight was descending under full sail, seconds from making contact with Winsome Wind's primary balloon. Maillee was pinched between the descending yacht and two launches close off their bow. She dropped them as low as she dared to buy them a few more seconds, but there was little else she could legally do.

She was furious. This is exactly the kind of thing Trask warned her about, and there was no recourse. Even if they could make a case for obstruction, the race would be over for them before it really got underway. They could not recover the lost time if they had to replace the primary, and a scrape from a competitor's hull could tear it wide open.

Again, she worried needlessly. Captain Bel was already aware of the maneuver, and calmly responding as if this were a minor change in wind direction. "Release stays’ls!" she called. "Steady on the helm, keep her running true. Tal, rig for port reach, due south. Lift," she looked up to Maillee, "all rise!"

That meant maximum ascent. Maillee repeated the order to her crew, "All rise, all rise!" and the bellows operators pumped vigorously, giving her a sudden surge in flame. She felt the Nishá like a drug course through her, the thrill tingling her skin. So much power in the sapwood, released now and ready to do her bidding. But nearly 8,000 cubic meters of air demanded a lot of energy, and she had to simultaneously manage the rarefaction of the air above them. She poured all the raw energy into her shaping, the mad rush of breath burning in her skull and down her arms. The ship bounced upward in a heartbeat, and still she funneled the flame from the sapwood into her Arte.

At the same time, the crew slacked the lines and swung the staysail booms aft so that all six sails luffed and fell. The boat's forward speed quickly dropped. The silks still gave enough profile that they weren't stalled, but Star of Twilight overshot them, continuing on its downward plunge as Winsome Wind rose, now clear. Maillee caught a glimpse of Terst twisting to look back at them from his own burner deck, but with the glow from the flames behind him, she could not make out his expression. It galled her that one of her old masters might be in on the ploy, but if she could suspect any of her former teachers, it would be him.

"Reach!" Bel ordered, and Voor swung the wheel hard left while the crew trimmed the spanker and staysails. They came port on a broad reach, taking the wind nearly at right angles and dramatically increasing the effective force on the sails. That gave them an immediate boost in forward speed, but it also gave them a significant leeward drift that took them right over Star of Twilight. Maillee nearly laughed aloud at how skillfully Bel had turned the tables, and she obligingly skimmed a hand's breadth over their competitor's primary. As their shadow dimmed the deck, she could make out their crew instinctively ducking their heads. 

And then they were away, their new bearing taking them due south. 

"Alright, mates, that's about enough fun for one morning," Bel called out loudly. "Let's trim her up and get above these clouds."

Tal started barking orders to the crew as Maillee turned back to her own duties. They were already on a nice ascent, and so she eased back on the flame to conserve fuel. An auspicious launch, but the Regatta was far from over and they had earned themselves an enemy. She had no doubt they'd be seeing more of Tornay House before the week was out.