CHAPTER 35: FAIR WEATHER

  Elias and Jalander returned to the brazier expecting Bertrand and Briley to have already arrived at their predetermined meeting place. They had no such luck. They waited and waited, huffing clouds, until Jalander could wait no longer. They tried the nearest bar to no avail, passed through the intersection again—still nothing—and finally wandered back toward The Sapphire Spirit.

  Staring down the port’s open hand, Elias searched the wooden piers for any sign of his companions, stopping for a spell to take in the view. Dusk’s dying sun was fading over the horizon like the flame that wanes over the liquid pool of a spent candle, while in the foreground, the bare masts of boats swayed like summer grass, their long shadows stretching down the water’s lapping surface. Beautiful yet evanescent, his mother once described the golden hour. But the awning of night was fast-approaching, and so Elias picked up his pace.

  They weaved their way around a handful of sailors still wrapping up their day and found The Sapphire Spirit floating where they had left it, albeit with unexpected company.

  It was a surprise of two parts. First was the appearance of numerous heavy-looking, unlabeled crates, stacked into haphazard pyramids next to their airship. Elias examined them for clues but found none. And the second surprise was a gray-haired, grizzled sailor thundering down the gangway from The Sapphire Spirit. Elias did not recognize him.

  He did, however, recognize the younger though equally sizable blond fellow following the man. “You’re back,” Bertrand announced for them. “We wrangled a new contract. I told you bars were rife with business opportunity.”

  “What are we shipping?” Elias asked as Jalander simply observed the situation.

  “Don’t sound so excited,” Bertrand replied. “Nickel. Apparently, they mine the stuff up here, which makes sense. We might be a little heavy on the way back, but I’m sure we’ll survive.”

  “I am excited,” Elias clarified. “Nice work, Bertrand.”

  “Credit Briley too. It was a real team effort, this one—excluding you, of course. She’ll be back in a few. Just handling paperwork and collecting our coin. Apparently, not many ships venture from Sailor’s Rise to Saint Albus in the winter months. This was a worthwhile voyage, after all. Cold, but worthwhile.”

  “And who is that?” Elias nodded toward the large gentleman heaving another crate off the pyramid.

  “That is Iric,” Bertrand said matter-of-factly. “We hired him to help with the crates. Briley and I lugged a couple of them on board ourselves, but trust me, they are rather cumbersome. Plus, he’s quite friendly. We met him at the bar.”

  While Bertrand seemed content to catch his breath on the docks next to Jalander, who himself appeared preoccupied with thought, Elias suffered a growing itch to help out. The crates were cumbersome, like Bertrand said, but he was also stronger than he looked. He traded glances—if not yet words—with Iric as they passed each other by with full arms, though the northerner offered a single nod of approval. Elias managed to carry half a dozen boxes into the lower deck by the time the two men had fully loaded the vessel.

  “All done.” Iric, whose accent was even thicker than Bjorn’s, clapped the dust off his calloused hands. “Thank you again for the opportunity, Mr. Fairweather.”

  Mr. Fairweather. Iric was at least twice if not thrice Bertrand’s age.

  “Not at all,” Bertrand replied. “I should thank you, Iric. You’ve saved me from a lifetime of back problems, I’m sure. Here”—he loosened his coin purse and started counting—“three relics seems fair.”

  “We agreed on two,” Iric said firmly. “Three is too much for an hour of work.”

  “A premium for enduring this weather,” Bertrand rebutted.

  “This is just weather.” Iric shooed the argument like a bothersome fly.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man turn down extra coin before,” Bertrand said, and Elias was not sure he had met such a man either.

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  “Fair is fair. Weather is weather. You should know this, Mr. Fairweather.” Iric grinned a toothy grin, minus a missing incisor.

  Elias and Bertrand chuckled, and even Jalander couldn’t help himself, listening in as the four of them stood shivering on the pier, bartering generosity while still waiting for Briley.

  “I have another idea,” Iric continued, “if you are open to it.”

  Bertrand beckoned him to go on.

  “I have a sister in Sailor’s Rise. There is little left for me in Saint Albus, and the winters… they are slow. Perhaps you could use some help on your journey back. I cook. I clean. I unload crates. Two relics a day, and you keep your third coin. A fair price, yes?”

  It was certainly a fair price. Bertrand turned to Elias, who shrugged approvingly. Whatever they were getting for this job, Iric’s proposed compensation could hardly be more than a fraction of it.

  “Can you leave tomorrow morning?” Bertrand inquired.

  “I own few things,” Iric said. “Tomorrow morning is no problem. I will stay with my sister in Sailor’s Rise. And if you have more work for someone like me in the future, maybe we do business again.”

  While they already hired workers whenever journeying to Azir, the quality of these men was questionable. Even just based on the last hour alone, Iric seemed more capable than the hired help they had settled for in the past. And so, while they made no promises, Elias imagined it would be a mutually beneficial arrangement.

  “I’ll draw up a contract,” Bertrand said. “What’s your surname, Iric?”

  “Surname? Halvorson. Iric Halvorson.” He spelled it out.

  “Are you related to Bjorn Halvorson, by chance?” Elias asked.

  “He is my brother, but we do not speak. Family matters, you understand. It is how we deal with family in the north.”

  “By not speaking to one another?” Bertrand inserted.

  “When words are like poison, silence is a mercy,” Iric said. “That is what some people say. I just do not like talking to him.”

  Elias examined Iric more closely, searching for the resemblance. While the two northerners provided a study in contrasts when it came to mannerisms, attire, and finances, he could see it now in their hooded eyes, each blue as frost, though Iric’s skin was more creviced, mapping a harsher life than the one his brother knew. He looked to be in his fifties.

  Iric could evidently read Elias’s thoughts, or perhaps he merely recognized the subtle touch of a measuring gaze. “You think I’m an old man, do you? I am not much older than your Southlander friend.”

  Jalander blinked. “Thanks.”

  “I don’t think you’re old,” Elias said. The truth was something else, something seen but seldom spoken. The truth, rather, was that he also came from a place where age was not only a clock—but a good sold for meager wages.

  “How old are you, Mr.—”

  “Elias.”

  “Mr. Elias.”

  Elias chuckled. “Almost nineteen.”

  “That is how you know you are young: rounding up your age,” Iric said wisely, then cracked his spine and stretched his arms. “I will go pack now, yes? Then we meet here at sunrise.”

  “See you at sunrise,” Bertrand confirmed.

  And as one person left, another took his place. “Good evening, Miss Soren.” Iric bowed his head as she passed him by. “I will see you tomorrow, young lady, bright and early.”

  “See you tomorrow.” Briley looked a little confused. She asked the question as soon as she rejoined her crew and Iric was out of earshot. “Why are we seeing him tomorrow?”

  “We hired him,” Elias explained.

  “I thought we were supposed to discuss hiring as a team.” Her simmering annoyance was understandable. She was right, of course.

  “Apologies, Briley,” Bertrand said. “He loaded our ship more quickly than anyone else we’ve ever hired, and he only wanted two relics a day and passage to Sailor’s Rise. I didn’t think you would disagree.”

  “I don’t,” Briley replied, “but that’s not the point. Whatever. We settled on five hundred relics for the nickel shipment. It’s a good deal for them and, considering we’re already here, a good enough one for us. Plus, if this goes well, we may have a new client. I don’t expect the work to be particularly frequent or lucrative, but we’ve accepted far less favorable jobs.”

  “It’s not a bad one at all,” Elias said. “I only wish I could have helped.”

  “You can buy dinner,” Bertrand suggested. “We still need to find a place to stay for the night. I inquired at the bar, and the good news is that accommodation here is relatively affordable. Certainly a lot cheaper than in Azir or the Rise.”

  “I am getting hungry,” Briley added.

  Elias felt his own stomach rumble and did not object to the suggestion. “It’s on me, apparently.”

  “Shall we?” Bertrand led the way as Jalander followed first, keeping his cards close to his chest.

  Briley hung back with Elias, observing them from behind. “What did you two get up to?” she asked. “Did he get what he was after?”

  “He did,” Elias told her. “We came all this way for a bracelet, if you can believe it, though it’s clearly quite a valuable artifact. A few thousand years old, they said.” He saw no reason to lie when withholding a bit of truth would do the trick.

  “Huh.” Briley had not expected that. “So, then why did he ask you to join him? I assumed he needed help carrying something heavy.”

  Elias hadn’t come up with a cover story for that question. “I guess he wanted company” was all he could think to say.

  They were walking slowly now, letting their distance from the men in front of them grow. “Do you know Jalander? As in, did you know him before this contract?”

  Elias shook his head, perhaps a little too hastily. “Never met him.”

  “Huh,” she said again.

  Desperate for a distraction, Elias peered back toward the ocean, which for a few more fleeting minutes shimmered the color of ancient treasure. “Saint Albus is a strangely beautiful place, isn’t it?” he commented.

  She looked at him before looking at the ocean. “Sure. Yeah. I suppose it is.”