A few months back I posted a thread about looking to collaborate with some people trying to write something. Well, shortly after that post I began my contribution, but as my projects are wont to do it fell a bit to the wayside. The collaboration side of things became less my focus, and I managed to finish a first chapter/prologue and have a few friends give it a quick once over. I never did get any substantial proofreading done, and aside from getting 1500ish words into a second chapter, I haven't touched the thing since October.
I just had a quick read through it, and I figured I would post it here since the prologue is pretty much done anyhow. I've been considering a scheme where I post a new chapter to my website (currently under construction) every so many weeks (maybe once a month) as a bit of a writing exercise for myself.
Anyhow, let me know how you feel about it if you read it. Even if you only read a portion, or get bored part way through, leave some feedback. 2010, I have decided, is the year that I get serious about my aspirations to be a writer, so opening myself to wider criticism is just another step. I am particularly concerned that I have not offered an adequate explanation/introduction to what is supposed to be a complicated world both politically/socially and geographically.
Prologue Inside (Spoilered for length: nearly 5500 wds)
I just had a quick read through it, and I figured I would post it here since the prologue is pretty much done anyhow. I've been considering a scheme where I post a new chapter to my website (currently under construction) every so many weeks (maybe once a month) as a bit of a writing exercise for myself.
Anyhow, let me know how you feel about it if you read it. Even if you only read a portion, or get bored part way through, leave some feedback. 2010, I have decided, is the year that I get serious about my aspirations to be a writer, so opening myself to wider criticism is just another step. I am particularly concerned that I have not offered an adequate explanation/introduction to what is supposed to be a complicated world both politically/socially and geographically.
Prologue Inside (Spoilered for length: nearly 5500 wds)
Nicholas Wanderson flipped a charred plank of wood over with his boot. Grey ash stirred and billowed lightly into the air. Underneath was more ash, burnt wood, and the remains of books seared to various levels of unreadability. He took a few more steps through the ruins of what used to be the University's modest library.
The destruction was extensive. It would be no simple matter of repairing the buildings affected by the fire. Everything would have to be rebuilt from the ground up. And that would cost money that nobody had.
Nicholas considered the two years he had spent in the buildings that were now dust at his feet. There would be no recovery for the school. What that could mean for him personally, Nicholas wasn't sure.
All he knew was that if he wasn't going to receive a degree, he at least wanted some sort of memento of his time spent at school in Fort Granter. And so for the rest of the morning, he decided he would search through the ruin, looking for an appropriate token.
He paused at a section of half-standing wall. It was where Nicholas used to sit and read, perched on a comfortable chair at a grand wooden table. A window had offered a teasing view of the city during those countless hours of study. Now, with the wall mostly collapsed, the city was revealed in full. The valley leading to the harbour was lined with small houses and shops, and in the cliffs across the city, sections of masonry and windows cut into natural stone made known the city's namesake: Fort Granter. A dozen airships rested in the fields above the Fortress, taking on cargo, passengers, and supplies. Another smattering of ships were coming and going.
After drinking the scene for a while, Nicholas continued to kick around in the dirt. At noon he returned to his uncle's house with sweat soaked through his short hair, dirty pants, and a pilfered university signet ring he found in what was formerly the university office. He wondered if his afternoon and his mind might both be better filled by helping his uncle with chores around the shop.
When he entered, his uncle Richard passed Nicholas an already-prepared sandwich, and informed him that Leon Adams, the Dean of the university, had invited them for supper.
“To a saner future.” toasted Leon cheerlessly, thrusting his wineglass forward.
Dolefully, both Nicholas and his uncle Richard Wanderson, lifted their glasses as well. Nicholas gave a quick sip at the dark wine, and laid the crystal glass on the table once more. His eyes floated from his uncle to his mentor, both reclining in their chairs as Mrs. Adams cleared the table of dirty dishes.
The sky outside was dark now, with a few points of light across the street telling the tale of other houses and lamps. Above the darkened horizon, the lights of two airships slowly ascended into the clouds.
Inside the house, electric light spilled into the dining room from the kitchen, but only fell in one corner. An oil lamp flooded the rest of the space with a warm light.
“A cigar, Nicholas?” asked Richard.
Nicholas nodded and received the rolled tobacco from his uncle, spinning it in his fingers absentmindedly, while his other hand searched his pocket for a box of matches. When he retrieved the box, the scorched signet ring from the university came with it.
Leon caught sight of it and smiled. “A token perhaps?”
The young man met Leon's eyes. “I hope that isn't a problem. It's useless now anyhow. The fire warped it.”
The dean gave a shrug. “I can appreciate sentimentality.” He lifted the glass bulb away from the flickering wick of the lamp and placed it on the table. He snipped the end of his own cigar with a cutter, and abruptly changed the topic, as was his way. “Yes, it's a shame that the imbecility of this town should prevent you from completing your studies.”
“The imbecility of this town?” asked Richard teasingly. “At least the rest of the township know not to light a cigar from a lamp.”
A grin played over Leon's face as he held the end of his cigar over the flame, rolling it in his fingers, lighting it evenly. “Oh, you make all the fun you'd like. Some of us just get so stuck in our ways ... ” he let the sentence trail off, as he concentrated on his cigar. After a few puffs to make sure it was alight to satisfaction, he returned to the subject of schooling. “I suppose the intellectuals of this age will simply have to lay low while the neanderthals bash each other in the head for a spell.”
Nicholas nodded, staring into the flame of the lamp as Leon replaced the bulb. He slipped the matchbox and burned ring into his pocket as he spoke. “Do they intend to investigate the cause of the fire?”
“They already have.” Richard replied wearily, “It was blamed on an unattended stove, which we both know is impossible. It must have been eighteen degrees out last night.” The man shook his head at the insultingly obtuse fabrication. “It all says to me that Sandar Fumig, or some other Loyalist is to blame.”
“Why Fumig?” asked Nicholas.
“Sandar is brother-in-law to Police Commissioner Sabogue.” informed Leon.
Nicholas hummed at the revelation. “Why wouldn't he have Sabogue blame it on the Independents, then? If he has a connection like that?”
Leon took a puff of his cigar before explaining. “Because that would precipitate a fight between factions, and if the Loyalists are to blame, that would likely come out eventually.”
“Well then, what would keep the Independents from arguing it anyways?”
Richard scoffed. “The Independents have been so critical of the university, they're probably kicking themselves for not having torched it themselves. But even ignoring that, if they caused a ruckus and tried to blame it on the Loyalists – even if the Loyalists are to blame – then it looks like they're picking a fight.”
“So everyone just pretends that they believe some dimwitted student left a stove going overnight in the middle of summer, and life goes on.” finished Leon.
“Except for our lives.” lamented Nicholas.
“Except for Leon's.” corrected Richard. “I'm a carpenter, and depending on who asks, so are you.”
“I don't follow.” Nicholas admitted with a furrowed brow.
Leon raised a cautious eyebrow at Richard. “The conversation hasn't gotten there yet, Richard. No need to rush things.”
“Well, it would seem the conversation just arrived. And I'm not rushing. But as long as it's come up, I prefer we get that business finished with so we can all enjoy the evening unburdened.”
Nicholas looked between the two old men again. “I still don't follow.”
Leon sat silently for moment, staring at Nicholas in what appeared to be consideration. He had another puff of his cigar, and sip of wine as he thought. “I would have preferred to do this later, but your uncle seems adamant on forcing the timing. And we both know that his head is harder than his hammers.” he said with a shrug of surrender. He stood, and walked to the study.
Nicholas watched him leave, and then turned to Richard, “Do I follow him?” he asked.
“No. He'll be back in a moment.” responded Richard after a long sip of wine and a puff of his own cigar. “Just remember that there is no shame in ... temporarily discontinuing your studies while the world is in such – ”
“Richard, I can hear you. Just wait a moment!” called Leon from somewhere else in the house.
Caught, Richard halted his speech, and instead spent the next half minute meditating upon his cigar.
When Leon returned, he was holding a sealed envelope with some measure of gravity. He sat before he began his explanation. “This is a letter from myself to Dean Lodge, in Madrogad. He is responsible for the University there, and is a close friend of mine. He knows the trouble we've had here, with the Loyalists and Independents.”
“So, the letter is about ... the fire?” asked Nicholas cautiously.
“In part. It's also about your education, and a recommendation that he take you on and complete your schooling.” he explained.
Nicholas cocked his eyebrow. “In Madrogad?”
“Yes, Madrogad.” Richard injected with obvious distaste.
Leon waved his hand dismissively. “It's far from the influence of the Loyalists or the Independents, so you'll be able to continue your schooling in peace.”
Richard snorted. “For the next two weeks, at least. Madrogad has it's own problems, and it's only a matter of time before this wave of colonialism hits them as well.”
“It's already a colony. And a jealously guarded one at that. If they ever do see any conflict, Nicholas will be long done his education.”
Richard gave a derisive laugh. “You're sure of that, Leon? Because if the independents here make any significant strides, you know that there will be those in the Resplendent Arm who will want to follow suit, and in that case Madrogad - .”
Leon shot his hand out to stop the other man. “Richard,” he had another puff of his cigar before continuing. “I know you fear for your nephew. And I know that the circumstances are difficult. But it is his decision to make.”
“That is fair. But I want him –” Richard shook his head and addressed Nicholas instead of Leon. “– I want you to know that you needn't fly off to unknown lands and dangerous corners of the earth in pursuit of your education. However noble the pursuit of learning may be.”
The table was silent for a while. Dishes clacked together in the kitchen where Mrs. Adams was putting them away.
Richard broke the silence again. “You needn't stay here. In fact, I would encourage you to leave. The same ones who burned the school might –”
Leon interjected with a shake of his head. “Nobody is going to –”
“Allow me to finish.” pleaded Richard impatiently. “If you stay, you know you can work at my shop. If you leave, and decide not to continue your education, I can provide you with a letter stating that you apprenticed under me here as a carpenter.”
“Why would I need such a thing?” asked Nicholas.
Leon filled in. “Your uncle believes that admitting that you were here to study history and literature might make you a target for radicals.” He finished with a teasing scowl directed at Richard.
Richard met the expression with a raised eyebrow. “And your professor forgets that the radicals I fear just burned down his school.”
“No matter in that. We've simply been reminded that wood burns. We will have to rebuild with stone.”
Nicholas' uncle laughed. “Oh? You would give the contract to a stranger mason over a carpenter friend?”
Leon shrugged. “I have friends who are masons as well.”
The men launched into faux negotiations about the reconstruction of the school. Nicholas had a moment to consider the options laid before him as the two men continued to smoke, drink, and humour themselves with their conversation. Eventually the two friends had reached the end of their jokes, and turned to Nicholas as he emerged from his introspection.
Leon met Nicholas' gaze. “The crossroads is before you.” he exclaimed with some measure of ceremony.
“Well, my Calese is very weak, so I'm not sure I would be a good fit in Madgrogad.” Nicholas said to Leon, “And I'm also not certain you'd like my poor carpentry attributed to your name,” he continued to Richard with a grin, “But I'll just see where the wind takes me.”
“Not a very academic method,” Richard observed with a wink, “But I trust you to make the wisest choice for yourself.”
Leon nodded in agreement.
Soon after, the men retired to the study to continue with the evening.
It was the next evening that Nicholas found himself wandering Fort Granter. The day had been entirely empty, spent helping at the shop, or running token errands for Richard. The nature of all the errands were suspect, though, leading Nicholas to believe his uncle was simply trying to give him something to break up the monotony of the day.
The sun was setting slowly, catching the sky on fire as it's the red disc dipped into the ocean. With the city darkening, Nicholas wandered through narrow streets toward the landing fields. He tried to tell himself that he was simply on an aimless walk, but Nicholas knew where he would end up.
He only allowed himself to admit where he was heading when he crossed the threshold to the Wayfarer.
The inside of the pub was as dingy as ever. Tobacco smoke was so thick in the air, it almost seemed appropriate to do a breaststroke to make one's way through it. Various chairs and stools were occupied by men sleeping off their intoxicants, even this early in the evening. The place was tame for now though; travellers were only yet exchanging stories. Before last call, Nicholas knew, some would likely exchange blows.
“Nicholas?” a female voice called from the bar.
Nicholas met the eyes of May, one of the regular barkeeps. He offered a smile and made his way past a few tables to perch himself at the bar. “How's it going tonight, May?”
“Oh, terrible as usual.” she replied in her singsong way. “What are you doing out here on a Wednesday?” she asked.
“Well ...” Nicholas allowed himself a pause, hoping May would realize on her own the reason. She didn't. “Clearly I don't have to worry about school in the morning anymore.” he hinted.
“Right. The fire.” May signalled understanding with a bobbing nod. “Get you a drink?”
Well, that's all we'll be talking about me tonight. Thought Nicholas. “Sure. A glass of Captain -”
“- Armstrong. I got it.”
May poured a tumbler of rum and placed it on the bar in front of Nicholas. He gave it a tentative sip, trying not to show the discomfort on his face when it burned his throat. May stood behind the bar in front of him, wiping her hands in a rag absentmindedly, and staring at some distant corner of the room, waiting for the inevitable break in Nicholas' resolve.
He wondered for a moment if May even realized that she was playing this game. Or if she realized that she always won. But rather than wait her out, Nicholas decided to throw the match and ask her what she was yearning to be asked. “So. Things are terrible you said?”
“Oh, you have no idea!” she groaned. “I was working last night, and I had that old bearded man throw up on me again. It was horrible. Then he -”
Nicholas winced at another sip of his drink. “Which bearded man?” he asked, trying not to betray his disinterest.
“You know. MacKenzie or something. Has the little grey cap and the green coat. Anyways, he made a pass at me right after he threw up, so I told him if he wanted ...”
An occasional nod seemed to placate May as she continued her story. Every time this happened – which was basically every time May began to speak – Nicholas put more and more effort into paying attention to the content of her words. And yet, every time she launched a tirade at him, he remembered less and less of it afterwards. It was no matter though; she certainly wouldn't be asking for any input, so Nicholas continued to feign interest while meditating upon his own situation some more.
By the time his rum was finished, Nicholas had come to no conclusion. Which is probably why providence decided at that moment to walk through the door.
Nicholas heard the door, but like so much other noise, tuned it out. He did hear when the new arrival called his name.
“Nicholas?”
He turned to see who was calling. A tall, thin man peered out of aviator goggles at him. A stiff red collar covered him up to his lower lip, and a brown cap covered much of the rest of his face. Nicholas didn't recognize him at first.
Without further hesitation, the spry newcomer danced through the tables over to the bar, removing his cap and goggles as he went. Then, Nicholas recognized him.
“Stephen Hann.” Nicholas addressed him simply.
“Yessir. How's it going, bud? Haven't seen you in ... god. Must be months.”
That sounded too short for Nicholas. “I would guess a year and a half.”
“Jesus! That long?” Stephen dropped his old goggles and cap on the bar, and began tugging at the buttons of his double breasted jacket.
May looked Stephen up and down.
Stephen noticed and smirked. “Don't worry, love, you're not supposed to recognize me.”
“Fine.” May replied as if she hadn't been trying. “What'll you have?”
“Oh.” he paused to consider the question as he tossed his jacket onto the stool next to him. He grabbed Nicholas' tumbler and took a sniff before the younger man could protest. “Rum, is it? Sure, I'll have that. No water in mine, though.” He elbowed Nicholas cheerily.
Nicholas rolled his eyes.
“He doesn't neuter his.” said May simply before turning around to get Stephen's order.
“No? No water in your spirits anymore Nicky?”
Nicholas tried not to look proud. Had it been that long since they had drank together? “Nope.” he assured his friend. “Living with an uncle who loves his rum will do that.”
Stephen gave a nod of approval. “You don't say.”
Nicholas strained his voice to produce a baritone like his Richard's. “'If you're going to poison yourself, don't poison the poison.'”
The two laughed lightly. May returned with a new glass for Stephen, and pointed at Nicholas' glass questioningly. When Nicholas hesitated to ask for a refill, Stephen answered for him. “Yes, he'll have another.”
When May stole his glass and turned away again, Nicholas allowed himself to breach more sensible conversation. “So what are you doing here in Fort Granter? I figured you'd be with the Paradox still.”
“Oh, I am. I'm actually just finishing up on a week's leave from the ship. Death in the family. I was over in Port Baldo burying my brother.” Stephen drank a halfhearted toast to the lost sibling.
“I'm ... I'm sorry to hear that.” Nicholas offered.
“Don't worry about it.” Stephen gave a strained chuckle. “I've got two backups.”
Nicholas smiled as well. May returned with his drink, and to Nicholas' pleasure, didn't insist on sticking around for the rest of the conversation. He gave her a curt nod of thanks as she moved down the bar to busy herself with something else.
“So, you're finishing up leave, are you? Meeting with the Paradox somewhere?” Nicholas gave a sip at his new glass.
Stephen nodded. “Here, actually. Tomorrow evening.”
“Here?” Nicholas was confused. “This isn't on the Paradox's route.”
Stephen shrugged. “Gladys changed the itinerary when asked for the leave.”
“Wow.”
“For sure. That man is the greatest captain I've ever worked under. Man would be a fool to leave him.”
Suddenly self-conscious, Nicholas stared into his drink.
“Oh! Hah! Didn't realize what I was saying.” Stephen gave Nicholas a slap on the back. “He understood you leaving. Was proud, even. You know how he gets about well-rounded, educated men and all that.”
“Yeah, I guess I do.” Nicholas agreed halfheartedly.
“Listen. The old man is glad you came here for your schooling. You were like his little protege. You know he would take you back in an instant.”
Nicholas' heart skipped a beat. He suddenly sat straighter on his stool, and turned to face Stephen fully. “Would he, do you think? Do you know if he's got an opening in the crew?”
“Well ... I don't know of any opening, but, yeah he'd take you. Like I said, you were his pro-”
“And he's coming here tomorrow?”
Stephen raised an eyebrow and spoke cautiously. “Yes. What's this about? Is the school not working out for you here?”
Nicholas told the story of the political climate in Fort Granter, and the mistrust of the university on both sides of the divide. He explained the growing pressure against students, driving most of them away until enrolment at the university was at an all time low. Then he got to the fire.
When he finished, Stephen nodded solemnly. “So, two years with nothing to show for it. That's got to feel terrible.”
“Well, I have two years of education at least. And I picked this out of the rubble this morning.” Nicholas dug a warped and charred signet ring out of his pocket.
“Is this the university seal? Can I see?” Stephen held out a hand.
Nicholas handed it over before continuing. “The dean also gave me a letter I can bring to the university in Madrogad, if I wanted to enrol there.”
Stephen looked up from the ring and cocked his head. “I sense hesitation.”
“It's just ... a long way from home. A completely different place. And besides, my Calese is terrible.”
“Well, I'm sure you speak it better than me.” Stephen assured him.
Nicholas gave a chuckle. “Not much of an accomplishment, I'm sure.”
“True.” Stephen handed back the warped ring. After a moment, he attempted to summarize what Nicholas was getting at. “So you want to wander the Furlong Isles again.”
A deep sigh escaped Nicholas. “I don't know what I want to do. But if the Paradox is coming here tomorrow, then that's as good a course of action as any. Actually ... better than most, really.”
“You're not wrong.” Stephen finished his drink. “Fair enough then. In the morning, I'll head over to the fieldmaster hut and try to raise the Paradox on radio. She should be here by mid-evening tomorrow, so what do you say we meet here at supper, say ... five o'clock?”
“Sounds good.” Nicholas couldn't keep from grinning. It was short notice if he was able to go, but he could get his affairs in order tomorrow and say his goodbyes in the afternoon. He'd have to send a wire to his parents, and find Julia to say goodbye. What would he do with his books? He couldn't expect to take -
“Now!” Stephen burst into Nicholas' thoughts. “You can sort out your shit tomorrow. For now, tell me how the women are in this town!”
Nicholas flashed his friend a jeering grin. After taking another mouthful of rum, he began to tell an invented story about the promiscuity of Fort Granter girls.
Uncle Richard was a bit taken aback by the timing, but pleased that Nicholas had decided on a direction. “Captain Gladys is a good one. A fine man!” he exclaimed several times in the morning, echoing the sentiments in different words at various other points throughout the day. Richard closed the shop, and helped Nicholas to pack his trunk from the drawers in his room.
It became apparent that Nicholas had accumulated far too many things in the last two years to fit back into his traveler's trunk. Hastily, he made a pile of books he absolutely had to take with him, and left the rest on the shelf for his uncle to dispose of. In clothing, he selected only what seemed practical, taking a single set of moderately formal clothes just in case.
In the bottom of his sock drawer, under a pile of handkerchiefs, Nicholas rediscovered his handgun. A revolver his father had provided him when he declared his intention to fly with Gladys out of Skyridge. It appeared to be in decent condition, but he resolved to clean it anyhow, just in case. Nicholas carried it to the kitchen, laying it on one of the handkerchiefs from the drawer. His uncle followed shortly after with a small box of ammunition and the weapon's brown leather holster, found in another drawer.
“My heart will rest easier to know that your gun is in working order.” Richard said as he laid the items next to the handkerchief.
“Easier than if I told you I was moving to paradise?”
Richard huffed in disdain. “Paradise is a myth. Men fight, and it's a comfort to know you can defend yourself.”
Nicholas chuckled wistfully. “I wish my mother had said something similar.”
“Oh, it's proper for a woman to abhor violence.” advised Richard. “If we men didn't have women to please, we'd be in a whole lot more trouble than we are now!”
“I'll clean this after I finish packing everything else.” assured Nicholas as he exited the kitchen once more.
“Actually, Speaking of the women we have to impress,” Richard followed him to the door and leaned out into the hall. “You move along to find Julie. I'll clean your weapon.”
“I'm not finished packing.” protested Nicholas. “Besides, I have no reason to impress Julia.”
Richard ducked back into the kitchen, but a sharp laugh reached across the house. “Notice which excuse came first!” he shouted teasingly. “Go find her to give your farewell. You'll regret it if you can't find her later.”
His uncle was right. It was almost noon now, which meant Julia would in all likelihood be at her home. In the afternoon it was somewhat less certain.
When Nicholas knocked on Julia's door, he was greeted promptly by Julia's stepmother.
“Oh, hello!” she exclaimed warmly, ushering him through the door.
“Hello Mrs. Donovan.” Nicholas responded politely. “I came to see Julia.” he explained as he came to a stop on a wide rug just inside the door.
“Julia? Well I certainly didn't expect you came to visit me!” the older woman joked.
Nicholas forced a smile at the joke, continuing to stand on the rug expectantly.
Mrs. Donovan must have realized she hadn't responded appropriately. “Yes, well, Julia is actually out of town for the next day, but you're certainly welcome to stay for some lunch.”
Nicholas' heart sank. “Out of town? When did she leave?”
“This morning. Her father had business in Granid, so she decided to go as well.”
Disappointment must have been showing in Nicholas' face. Mrs. Donovan stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “Is anything the matter Nicholas?”
Nicholas smiled awkwardly, unsure how exactly to explain himself. “I'm actually preparing for a trip. My ship leaves tonight, and I wanted t say my goodbye before I lost my chance.”
Mrs. Donovan sounded delighted. “A trip, you say? Will you be gone long?”
Another pause cut into Nicholas' response. “Indefinitely.” he said eventually.
“Oh.” Mrs. Donovan stood silent for a moment. “Oh, that is ... I suppose it should not come as so much of a shock, since the school ... ” she allowed the sentence to drift, unfinished.
Nicholas reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a calling card. From a small table near the wall, he retrieved a pen.
“We will certainly miss you. And I speak for my husband as well.” Mrs. Donovan eventually continued.
“Well, it's nice to hear when you'll be missed.” Nicholas gave a wry smile, before looking down to the calling card, scribbling a note on it.
Leaving on Beautiful Paradox, (capt. Gladys). Expect letters.
“Please, see that Julia gets this.” he requested, handing the card off to Mrs. Donovan.
“Of course.” the older woman took it. “Have a safe journey.”
Nicholas' uncle seemed more disappointed at Julia's absence than Nicholas was himself, which was an impressive feat. After twenty minutes of repeating “Such a shame,” and expressing how good of a girl Julia was, they finally continued to pack. When they finished with the trunk, the two men spent time organizing the extra books and clothing for donation to the parish.
At the end of things, Nicholas felt comfortable that his affairs were in order. Several items of clothing and equipment were laid out across the bed. When the clock hit four thirty, Nicholas began to get ready for the journey. He took off his nice jacket, putting on his worn and stained brown vest. He strapped his holster to his hip, and donned a cap. He wiped off his goggles and shoved them in a vest pocket, and made sure he had enough money for the journey.
Finally, he patted the last pocket on the vest, the one his uncle had once referred to as his 'sentimentality pocket.' The weight of a short length of chain and a few bits of metal met his hand through the coarse fabric. Nicholas undid the button and held open the flap briefly, simultaneously retrieving the university signet ring from where he had laid it on the bed. The damaged ring fell in with a soft clink, and Nicholas closed the pocket.
When he exited his room, Nicholas felt ready to take to the skies again. Staring at himself in the mirror seemed unreal. In twenty four hours, his life had changed direction. There was a pang of regret for the few acquaintances he would leave behind. There was significantly more than a pang for not being able to say goodbye to Julia. But Nicholas decided that it was the sort of unfortunate circumstance men sometimes found themselves victim of. Besides, who could tell when their paths would again cross?
Nicholas turned to look at his uncle, who was becoming visibly emotional. He walked over to the china cabinet and opened the humidor there, pulling out a fine cigar. He passed it to Nicholas, who took it reverently.
“Smoke that one sometime soon. A celebration of moving to the next chapter of life.” Richard reached into his pocket and pulled out a small envelope, passing it as well. “And here is what I will call a 'cigar allowance.'”
Nicholas chuckled. Richard did as well.
“I am serious.” Richard reassured him. “Enjoy the fine things of life.”
“Thank you, uncle.” Nicholas responded simply.
When he walked into the Wayfarer again, May was not shocked to see Nicholas outfitted like an airman. She did however, sound a bit doleful. She offered him rum on the house, and a final meal in Fort Granter.
Halfway through the dry roast beef with mashed potatoes and gravy, Stephen arrived, sitting next to Nicholas and having a meal of his own. Conversation was light.
At about seven o'clock, the airfield's radio station announced the arrivals. Among the announcements, was the one Nicholas was listening for. “The Beautiful Paradox just moored at block fourteen, leaving for Terdad in two hours.” declared the scratchy voice.
“Ready to go?” asked Stephen. “Gladys will be pleased to see you.”
Nicholas nodded, but hesitated to move. After another moment trying to quell the butterflies in his stomach, he decided it might be possible to just drown them. He made the last bit of his rum disappear in one burning gulp, and turned around on his stool. “I'll see you sometime, May.” he shouted over his shoulder.
“Take care!” she replied crestfallenly.
Near the door, Nicholas grabbed the handle on his trunk and dragged it over the threshold, onto the airfield, and to the ship that would bring him back into the world.
When Nicholas approached the Paradox, Gladys was waiting on the deck. Leaning on the railing, smoking his pipe, he smiled at Nicholas.
“Nicholas. Good to have you back, son. We lift in two hours, hurry and put your things away.”
Nicholas looked up, smiling widely, the situation still feeling a little unreal. But he gave a nod, and a brisk “Yes sir.”
The destruction was extensive. It would be no simple matter of repairing the buildings affected by the fire. Everything would have to be rebuilt from the ground up. And that would cost money that nobody had.
Nicholas considered the two years he had spent in the buildings that were now dust at his feet. There would be no recovery for the school. What that could mean for him personally, Nicholas wasn't sure.
All he knew was that if he wasn't going to receive a degree, he at least wanted some sort of memento of his time spent at school in Fort Granter. And so for the rest of the morning, he decided he would search through the ruin, looking for an appropriate token.
He paused at a section of half-standing wall. It was where Nicholas used to sit and read, perched on a comfortable chair at a grand wooden table. A window had offered a teasing view of the city during those countless hours of study. Now, with the wall mostly collapsed, the city was revealed in full. The valley leading to the harbour was lined with small houses and shops, and in the cliffs across the city, sections of masonry and windows cut into natural stone made known the city's namesake: Fort Granter. A dozen airships rested in the fields above the Fortress, taking on cargo, passengers, and supplies. Another smattering of ships were coming and going.
After drinking the scene for a while, Nicholas continued to kick around in the dirt. At noon he returned to his uncle's house with sweat soaked through his short hair, dirty pants, and a pilfered university signet ring he found in what was formerly the university office. He wondered if his afternoon and his mind might both be better filled by helping his uncle with chores around the shop.
When he entered, his uncle Richard passed Nicholas an already-prepared sandwich, and informed him that Leon Adams, the Dean of the university, had invited them for supper.
“To a saner future.” toasted Leon cheerlessly, thrusting his wineglass forward.
Dolefully, both Nicholas and his uncle Richard Wanderson, lifted their glasses as well. Nicholas gave a quick sip at the dark wine, and laid the crystal glass on the table once more. His eyes floated from his uncle to his mentor, both reclining in their chairs as Mrs. Adams cleared the table of dirty dishes.
The sky outside was dark now, with a few points of light across the street telling the tale of other houses and lamps. Above the darkened horizon, the lights of two airships slowly ascended into the clouds.
Inside the house, electric light spilled into the dining room from the kitchen, but only fell in one corner. An oil lamp flooded the rest of the space with a warm light.
“A cigar, Nicholas?” asked Richard.
Nicholas nodded and received the rolled tobacco from his uncle, spinning it in his fingers absentmindedly, while his other hand searched his pocket for a box of matches. When he retrieved the box, the scorched signet ring from the university came with it.
Leon caught sight of it and smiled. “A token perhaps?”
The young man met Leon's eyes. “I hope that isn't a problem. It's useless now anyhow. The fire warped it.”
The dean gave a shrug. “I can appreciate sentimentality.” He lifted the glass bulb away from the flickering wick of the lamp and placed it on the table. He snipped the end of his own cigar with a cutter, and abruptly changed the topic, as was his way. “Yes, it's a shame that the imbecility of this town should prevent you from completing your studies.”
“The imbecility of this town?” asked Richard teasingly. “At least the rest of the township know not to light a cigar from a lamp.”
A grin played over Leon's face as he held the end of his cigar over the flame, rolling it in his fingers, lighting it evenly. “Oh, you make all the fun you'd like. Some of us just get so stuck in our ways ... ” he let the sentence trail off, as he concentrated on his cigar. After a few puffs to make sure it was alight to satisfaction, he returned to the subject of schooling. “I suppose the intellectuals of this age will simply have to lay low while the neanderthals bash each other in the head for a spell.”
Nicholas nodded, staring into the flame of the lamp as Leon replaced the bulb. He slipped the matchbox and burned ring into his pocket as he spoke. “Do they intend to investigate the cause of the fire?”
“They already have.” Richard replied wearily, “It was blamed on an unattended stove, which we both know is impossible. It must have been eighteen degrees out last night.” The man shook his head at the insultingly obtuse fabrication. “It all says to me that Sandar Fumig, or some other Loyalist is to blame.”
“Why Fumig?” asked Nicholas.
“Sandar is brother-in-law to Police Commissioner Sabogue.” informed Leon.
Nicholas hummed at the revelation. “Why wouldn't he have Sabogue blame it on the Independents, then? If he has a connection like that?”
Leon took a puff of his cigar before explaining. “Because that would precipitate a fight between factions, and if the Loyalists are to blame, that would likely come out eventually.”
“Well then, what would keep the Independents from arguing it anyways?”
Richard scoffed. “The Independents have been so critical of the university, they're probably kicking themselves for not having torched it themselves. But even ignoring that, if they caused a ruckus and tried to blame it on the Loyalists – even if the Loyalists are to blame – then it looks like they're picking a fight.”
“So everyone just pretends that they believe some dimwitted student left a stove going overnight in the middle of summer, and life goes on.” finished Leon.
“Except for our lives.” lamented Nicholas.
“Except for Leon's.” corrected Richard. “I'm a carpenter, and depending on who asks, so are you.”
“I don't follow.” Nicholas admitted with a furrowed brow.
Leon raised a cautious eyebrow at Richard. “The conversation hasn't gotten there yet, Richard. No need to rush things.”
“Well, it would seem the conversation just arrived. And I'm not rushing. But as long as it's come up, I prefer we get that business finished with so we can all enjoy the evening unburdened.”
Nicholas looked between the two old men again. “I still don't follow.”
Leon sat silently for moment, staring at Nicholas in what appeared to be consideration. He had another puff of his cigar, and sip of wine as he thought. “I would have preferred to do this later, but your uncle seems adamant on forcing the timing. And we both know that his head is harder than his hammers.” he said with a shrug of surrender. He stood, and walked to the study.
Nicholas watched him leave, and then turned to Richard, “Do I follow him?” he asked.
“No. He'll be back in a moment.” responded Richard after a long sip of wine and a puff of his own cigar. “Just remember that there is no shame in ... temporarily discontinuing your studies while the world is in such – ”
“Richard, I can hear you. Just wait a moment!” called Leon from somewhere else in the house.
Caught, Richard halted his speech, and instead spent the next half minute meditating upon his cigar.
When Leon returned, he was holding a sealed envelope with some measure of gravity. He sat before he began his explanation. “This is a letter from myself to Dean Lodge, in Madrogad. He is responsible for the University there, and is a close friend of mine. He knows the trouble we've had here, with the Loyalists and Independents.”
“So, the letter is about ... the fire?” asked Nicholas cautiously.
“In part. It's also about your education, and a recommendation that he take you on and complete your schooling.” he explained.
Nicholas cocked his eyebrow. “In Madrogad?”
“Yes, Madrogad.” Richard injected with obvious distaste.
Leon waved his hand dismissively. “It's far from the influence of the Loyalists or the Independents, so you'll be able to continue your schooling in peace.”
Richard snorted. “For the next two weeks, at least. Madrogad has it's own problems, and it's only a matter of time before this wave of colonialism hits them as well.”
“It's already a colony. And a jealously guarded one at that. If they ever do see any conflict, Nicholas will be long done his education.”
Richard gave a derisive laugh. “You're sure of that, Leon? Because if the independents here make any significant strides, you know that there will be those in the Resplendent Arm who will want to follow suit, and in that case Madrogad - .”
Leon shot his hand out to stop the other man. “Richard,” he had another puff of his cigar before continuing. “I know you fear for your nephew. And I know that the circumstances are difficult. But it is his decision to make.”
“That is fair. But I want him –” Richard shook his head and addressed Nicholas instead of Leon. “– I want you to know that you needn't fly off to unknown lands and dangerous corners of the earth in pursuit of your education. However noble the pursuit of learning may be.”
The table was silent for a while. Dishes clacked together in the kitchen where Mrs. Adams was putting them away.
Richard broke the silence again. “You needn't stay here. In fact, I would encourage you to leave. The same ones who burned the school might –”
Leon interjected with a shake of his head. “Nobody is going to –”
“Allow me to finish.” pleaded Richard impatiently. “If you stay, you know you can work at my shop. If you leave, and decide not to continue your education, I can provide you with a letter stating that you apprenticed under me here as a carpenter.”
“Why would I need such a thing?” asked Nicholas.
Leon filled in. “Your uncle believes that admitting that you were here to study history and literature might make you a target for radicals.” He finished with a teasing scowl directed at Richard.
Richard met the expression with a raised eyebrow. “And your professor forgets that the radicals I fear just burned down his school.”
“No matter in that. We've simply been reminded that wood burns. We will have to rebuild with stone.”
Nicholas' uncle laughed. “Oh? You would give the contract to a stranger mason over a carpenter friend?”
Leon shrugged. “I have friends who are masons as well.”
The men launched into faux negotiations about the reconstruction of the school. Nicholas had a moment to consider the options laid before him as the two men continued to smoke, drink, and humour themselves with their conversation. Eventually the two friends had reached the end of their jokes, and turned to Nicholas as he emerged from his introspection.
Leon met Nicholas' gaze. “The crossroads is before you.” he exclaimed with some measure of ceremony.
“Well, my Calese is very weak, so I'm not sure I would be a good fit in Madgrogad.” Nicholas said to Leon, “And I'm also not certain you'd like my poor carpentry attributed to your name,” he continued to Richard with a grin, “But I'll just see where the wind takes me.”
“Not a very academic method,” Richard observed with a wink, “But I trust you to make the wisest choice for yourself.”
Leon nodded in agreement.
Soon after, the men retired to the study to continue with the evening.
It was the next evening that Nicholas found himself wandering Fort Granter. The day had been entirely empty, spent helping at the shop, or running token errands for Richard. The nature of all the errands were suspect, though, leading Nicholas to believe his uncle was simply trying to give him something to break up the monotony of the day.
The sun was setting slowly, catching the sky on fire as it's the red disc dipped into the ocean. With the city darkening, Nicholas wandered through narrow streets toward the landing fields. He tried to tell himself that he was simply on an aimless walk, but Nicholas knew where he would end up.
He only allowed himself to admit where he was heading when he crossed the threshold to the Wayfarer.
The inside of the pub was as dingy as ever. Tobacco smoke was so thick in the air, it almost seemed appropriate to do a breaststroke to make one's way through it. Various chairs and stools were occupied by men sleeping off their intoxicants, even this early in the evening. The place was tame for now though; travellers were only yet exchanging stories. Before last call, Nicholas knew, some would likely exchange blows.
“Nicholas?” a female voice called from the bar.
Nicholas met the eyes of May, one of the regular barkeeps. He offered a smile and made his way past a few tables to perch himself at the bar. “How's it going tonight, May?”
“Oh, terrible as usual.” she replied in her singsong way. “What are you doing out here on a Wednesday?” she asked.
“Well ...” Nicholas allowed himself a pause, hoping May would realize on her own the reason. She didn't. “Clearly I don't have to worry about school in the morning anymore.” he hinted.
“Right. The fire.” May signalled understanding with a bobbing nod. “Get you a drink?”
Well, that's all we'll be talking about me tonight. Thought Nicholas. “Sure. A glass of Captain -”
“- Armstrong. I got it.”
May poured a tumbler of rum and placed it on the bar in front of Nicholas. He gave it a tentative sip, trying not to show the discomfort on his face when it burned his throat. May stood behind the bar in front of him, wiping her hands in a rag absentmindedly, and staring at some distant corner of the room, waiting for the inevitable break in Nicholas' resolve.
He wondered for a moment if May even realized that she was playing this game. Or if she realized that she always won. But rather than wait her out, Nicholas decided to throw the match and ask her what she was yearning to be asked. “So. Things are terrible you said?”
“Oh, you have no idea!” she groaned. “I was working last night, and I had that old bearded man throw up on me again. It was horrible. Then he -”
Nicholas winced at another sip of his drink. “Which bearded man?” he asked, trying not to betray his disinterest.
“You know. MacKenzie or something. Has the little grey cap and the green coat. Anyways, he made a pass at me right after he threw up, so I told him if he wanted ...”
An occasional nod seemed to placate May as she continued her story. Every time this happened – which was basically every time May began to speak – Nicholas put more and more effort into paying attention to the content of her words. And yet, every time she launched a tirade at him, he remembered less and less of it afterwards. It was no matter though; she certainly wouldn't be asking for any input, so Nicholas continued to feign interest while meditating upon his own situation some more.
By the time his rum was finished, Nicholas had come to no conclusion. Which is probably why providence decided at that moment to walk through the door.
Nicholas heard the door, but like so much other noise, tuned it out. He did hear when the new arrival called his name.
“Nicholas?”
He turned to see who was calling. A tall, thin man peered out of aviator goggles at him. A stiff red collar covered him up to his lower lip, and a brown cap covered much of the rest of his face. Nicholas didn't recognize him at first.
Without further hesitation, the spry newcomer danced through the tables over to the bar, removing his cap and goggles as he went. Then, Nicholas recognized him.
“Stephen Hann.” Nicholas addressed him simply.
“Yessir. How's it going, bud? Haven't seen you in ... god. Must be months.”
That sounded too short for Nicholas. “I would guess a year and a half.”
“Jesus! That long?” Stephen dropped his old goggles and cap on the bar, and began tugging at the buttons of his double breasted jacket.
May looked Stephen up and down.
Stephen noticed and smirked. “Don't worry, love, you're not supposed to recognize me.”
“Fine.” May replied as if she hadn't been trying. “What'll you have?”
“Oh.” he paused to consider the question as he tossed his jacket onto the stool next to him. He grabbed Nicholas' tumbler and took a sniff before the younger man could protest. “Rum, is it? Sure, I'll have that. No water in mine, though.” He elbowed Nicholas cheerily.
Nicholas rolled his eyes.
“He doesn't neuter his.” said May simply before turning around to get Stephen's order.
“No? No water in your spirits anymore Nicky?”
Nicholas tried not to look proud. Had it been that long since they had drank together? “Nope.” he assured his friend. “Living with an uncle who loves his rum will do that.”
Stephen gave a nod of approval. “You don't say.”
Nicholas strained his voice to produce a baritone like his Richard's. “'If you're going to poison yourself, don't poison the poison.'”
The two laughed lightly. May returned with a new glass for Stephen, and pointed at Nicholas' glass questioningly. When Nicholas hesitated to ask for a refill, Stephen answered for him. “Yes, he'll have another.”
When May stole his glass and turned away again, Nicholas allowed himself to breach more sensible conversation. “So what are you doing here in Fort Granter? I figured you'd be with the Paradox still.”
“Oh, I am. I'm actually just finishing up on a week's leave from the ship. Death in the family. I was over in Port Baldo burying my brother.” Stephen drank a halfhearted toast to the lost sibling.
“I'm ... I'm sorry to hear that.” Nicholas offered.
“Don't worry about it.” Stephen gave a strained chuckle. “I've got two backups.”
Nicholas smiled as well. May returned with his drink, and to Nicholas' pleasure, didn't insist on sticking around for the rest of the conversation. He gave her a curt nod of thanks as she moved down the bar to busy herself with something else.
“So, you're finishing up leave, are you? Meeting with the Paradox somewhere?” Nicholas gave a sip at his new glass.
Stephen nodded. “Here, actually. Tomorrow evening.”
“Here?” Nicholas was confused. “This isn't on the Paradox's route.”
Stephen shrugged. “Gladys changed the itinerary when asked for the leave.”
“Wow.”
“For sure. That man is the greatest captain I've ever worked under. Man would be a fool to leave him.”
Suddenly self-conscious, Nicholas stared into his drink.
“Oh! Hah! Didn't realize what I was saying.” Stephen gave Nicholas a slap on the back. “He understood you leaving. Was proud, even. You know how he gets about well-rounded, educated men and all that.”
“Yeah, I guess I do.” Nicholas agreed halfheartedly.
“Listen. The old man is glad you came here for your schooling. You were like his little protege. You know he would take you back in an instant.”
Nicholas' heart skipped a beat. He suddenly sat straighter on his stool, and turned to face Stephen fully. “Would he, do you think? Do you know if he's got an opening in the crew?”
“Well ... I don't know of any opening, but, yeah he'd take you. Like I said, you were his pro-”
“And he's coming here tomorrow?”
Stephen raised an eyebrow and spoke cautiously. “Yes. What's this about? Is the school not working out for you here?”
Nicholas told the story of the political climate in Fort Granter, and the mistrust of the university on both sides of the divide. He explained the growing pressure against students, driving most of them away until enrolment at the university was at an all time low. Then he got to the fire.
When he finished, Stephen nodded solemnly. “So, two years with nothing to show for it. That's got to feel terrible.”
“Well, I have two years of education at least. And I picked this out of the rubble this morning.” Nicholas dug a warped and charred signet ring out of his pocket.
“Is this the university seal? Can I see?” Stephen held out a hand.
Nicholas handed it over before continuing. “The dean also gave me a letter I can bring to the university in Madrogad, if I wanted to enrol there.”
Stephen looked up from the ring and cocked his head. “I sense hesitation.”
“It's just ... a long way from home. A completely different place. And besides, my Calese is terrible.”
“Well, I'm sure you speak it better than me.” Stephen assured him.
Nicholas gave a chuckle. “Not much of an accomplishment, I'm sure.”
“True.” Stephen handed back the warped ring. After a moment, he attempted to summarize what Nicholas was getting at. “So you want to wander the Furlong Isles again.”
A deep sigh escaped Nicholas. “I don't know what I want to do. But if the Paradox is coming here tomorrow, then that's as good a course of action as any. Actually ... better than most, really.”
“You're not wrong.” Stephen finished his drink. “Fair enough then. In the morning, I'll head over to the fieldmaster hut and try to raise the Paradox on radio. She should be here by mid-evening tomorrow, so what do you say we meet here at supper, say ... five o'clock?”
“Sounds good.” Nicholas couldn't keep from grinning. It was short notice if he was able to go, but he could get his affairs in order tomorrow and say his goodbyes in the afternoon. He'd have to send a wire to his parents, and find Julia to say goodbye. What would he do with his books? He couldn't expect to take -
“Now!” Stephen burst into Nicholas' thoughts. “You can sort out your shit tomorrow. For now, tell me how the women are in this town!”
Nicholas flashed his friend a jeering grin. After taking another mouthful of rum, he began to tell an invented story about the promiscuity of Fort Granter girls.
Uncle Richard was a bit taken aback by the timing, but pleased that Nicholas had decided on a direction. “Captain Gladys is a good one. A fine man!” he exclaimed several times in the morning, echoing the sentiments in different words at various other points throughout the day. Richard closed the shop, and helped Nicholas to pack his trunk from the drawers in his room.
It became apparent that Nicholas had accumulated far too many things in the last two years to fit back into his traveler's trunk. Hastily, he made a pile of books he absolutely had to take with him, and left the rest on the shelf for his uncle to dispose of. In clothing, he selected only what seemed practical, taking a single set of moderately formal clothes just in case.
In the bottom of his sock drawer, under a pile of handkerchiefs, Nicholas rediscovered his handgun. A revolver his father had provided him when he declared his intention to fly with Gladys out of Skyridge. It appeared to be in decent condition, but he resolved to clean it anyhow, just in case. Nicholas carried it to the kitchen, laying it on one of the handkerchiefs from the drawer. His uncle followed shortly after with a small box of ammunition and the weapon's brown leather holster, found in another drawer.
“My heart will rest easier to know that your gun is in working order.” Richard said as he laid the items next to the handkerchief.
“Easier than if I told you I was moving to paradise?”
Richard huffed in disdain. “Paradise is a myth. Men fight, and it's a comfort to know you can defend yourself.”
Nicholas chuckled wistfully. “I wish my mother had said something similar.”
“Oh, it's proper for a woman to abhor violence.” advised Richard. “If we men didn't have women to please, we'd be in a whole lot more trouble than we are now!”
“I'll clean this after I finish packing everything else.” assured Nicholas as he exited the kitchen once more.
“Actually, Speaking of the women we have to impress,” Richard followed him to the door and leaned out into the hall. “You move along to find Julie. I'll clean your weapon.”
“I'm not finished packing.” protested Nicholas. “Besides, I have no reason to impress Julia.”
Richard ducked back into the kitchen, but a sharp laugh reached across the house. “Notice which excuse came first!” he shouted teasingly. “Go find her to give your farewell. You'll regret it if you can't find her later.”
His uncle was right. It was almost noon now, which meant Julia would in all likelihood be at her home. In the afternoon it was somewhat less certain.
When Nicholas knocked on Julia's door, he was greeted promptly by Julia's stepmother.
“Oh, hello!” she exclaimed warmly, ushering him through the door.
“Hello Mrs. Donovan.” Nicholas responded politely. “I came to see Julia.” he explained as he came to a stop on a wide rug just inside the door.
“Julia? Well I certainly didn't expect you came to visit me!” the older woman joked.
Nicholas forced a smile at the joke, continuing to stand on the rug expectantly.
Mrs. Donovan must have realized she hadn't responded appropriately. “Yes, well, Julia is actually out of town for the next day, but you're certainly welcome to stay for some lunch.”
Nicholas' heart sank. “Out of town? When did she leave?”
“This morning. Her father had business in Granid, so she decided to go as well.”
Disappointment must have been showing in Nicholas' face. Mrs. Donovan stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “Is anything the matter Nicholas?”
Nicholas smiled awkwardly, unsure how exactly to explain himself. “I'm actually preparing for a trip. My ship leaves tonight, and I wanted t say my goodbye before I lost my chance.”
Mrs. Donovan sounded delighted. “A trip, you say? Will you be gone long?”
Another pause cut into Nicholas' response. “Indefinitely.” he said eventually.
“Oh.” Mrs. Donovan stood silent for a moment. “Oh, that is ... I suppose it should not come as so much of a shock, since the school ... ” she allowed the sentence to drift, unfinished.
Nicholas reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a calling card. From a small table near the wall, he retrieved a pen.
“We will certainly miss you. And I speak for my husband as well.” Mrs. Donovan eventually continued.
“Well, it's nice to hear when you'll be missed.” Nicholas gave a wry smile, before looking down to the calling card, scribbling a note on it.
Leaving on Beautiful Paradox, (capt. Gladys). Expect letters.
“Please, see that Julia gets this.” he requested, handing the card off to Mrs. Donovan.
“Of course.” the older woman took it. “Have a safe journey.”
Nicholas' uncle seemed more disappointed at Julia's absence than Nicholas was himself, which was an impressive feat. After twenty minutes of repeating “Such a shame,” and expressing how good of a girl Julia was, they finally continued to pack. When they finished with the trunk, the two men spent time organizing the extra books and clothing for donation to the parish.
At the end of things, Nicholas felt comfortable that his affairs were in order. Several items of clothing and equipment were laid out across the bed. When the clock hit four thirty, Nicholas began to get ready for the journey. He took off his nice jacket, putting on his worn and stained brown vest. He strapped his holster to his hip, and donned a cap. He wiped off his goggles and shoved them in a vest pocket, and made sure he had enough money for the journey.
Finally, he patted the last pocket on the vest, the one his uncle had once referred to as his 'sentimentality pocket.' The weight of a short length of chain and a few bits of metal met his hand through the coarse fabric. Nicholas undid the button and held open the flap briefly, simultaneously retrieving the university signet ring from where he had laid it on the bed. The damaged ring fell in with a soft clink, and Nicholas closed the pocket.
When he exited his room, Nicholas felt ready to take to the skies again. Staring at himself in the mirror seemed unreal. In twenty four hours, his life had changed direction. There was a pang of regret for the few acquaintances he would leave behind. There was significantly more than a pang for not being able to say goodbye to Julia. But Nicholas decided that it was the sort of unfortunate circumstance men sometimes found themselves victim of. Besides, who could tell when their paths would again cross?
Nicholas turned to look at his uncle, who was becoming visibly emotional. He walked over to the china cabinet and opened the humidor there, pulling out a fine cigar. He passed it to Nicholas, who took it reverently.
“Smoke that one sometime soon. A celebration of moving to the next chapter of life.” Richard reached into his pocket and pulled out a small envelope, passing it as well. “And here is what I will call a 'cigar allowance.'”
Nicholas chuckled. Richard did as well.
“I am serious.” Richard reassured him. “Enjoy the fine things of life.”
“Thank you, uncle.” Nicholas responded simply.
When he walked into the Wayfarer again, May was not shocked to see Nicholas outfitted like an airman. She did however, sound a bit doleful. She offered him rum on the house, and a final meal in Fort Granter.
Halfway through the dry roast beef with mashed potatoes and gravy, Stephen arrived, sitting next to Nicholas and having a meal of his own. Conversation was light.
At about seven o'clock, the airfield's radio station announced the arrivals. Among the announcements, was the one Nicholas was listening for. “The Beautiful Paradox just moored at block fourteen, leaving for Terdad in two hours.” declared the scratchy voice.
“Ready to go?” asked Stephen. “Gladys will be pleased to see you.”
Nicholas nodded, but hesitated to move. After another moment trying to quell the butterflies in his stomach, he decided it might be possible to just drown them. He made the last bit of his rum disappear in one burning gulp, and turned around on his stool. “I'll see you sometime, May.” he shouted over his shoulder.
“Take care!” she replied crestfallenly.
Near the door, Nicholas grabbed the handle on his trunk and dragged it over the threshold, onto the airfield, and to the ship that would bring him back into the world.
When Nicholas approached the Paradox, Gladys was waiting on the deck. Leaning on the railing, smoking his pipe, he smiled at Nicholas.
“Nicholas. Good to have you back, son. We lift in two hours, hurry and put your things away.”
Nicholas looked up, smiling widely, the situation still feeling a little unreal. But he gave a nod, and a brisk “Yes sir.”