Drift is everything that Shale aspires to. It's no wonder the bastards are arrogant, they're almost gods. Fly this, race this, lift this, they were always first and best, and quite frankly it was annoying.
They owned the blasted sky. Shame about what happened, none of us wanted that.
THE CITY OF DRIFT 1400 MILES NORTH OF THE ROIL
They approached Drift in the early morning, coming at it through a band of clouds. There was nothing secretive about their arrival. Flares went up, there was a fury of flight, Aerokin boiling from hidden hangars, but it was the great edifice of Stone itself that drew the eye. A mountain reversed, flat on the top and jagged below, reaching to a great inverted peak.
Stone's great plateau was thickly forested: houses poked out of the woods, obscured and protected by the forest. And at their heart was a small oval field, by a broad lake that reflected both the clouds and Aerokin above. It was a tinier version of the Field of Flight, though Chapman had modelled their field on this one. And in its exact centre was a single tower, a long finger of stone which David knew was called the Caress. He had always wanted to see it, and now he had. Though part of him, the part in which Cadell resided, remembered seeing it many times.
The hangars were all below, on the hollowed-out cliffs of the plateau, but it wasn’t there the Aerokin was taking them. They flew towards the jutting tower of the Caress itself.
Pinch passed over the edge of the city, the shift from open sky to forest, grass, and buildings a dramatic one. The hard light of the sky seemed to soften, as it washed over hard earth. Guns tracked their progress, aimed squarely at the Pinch ’s flotation sacks. David tried not to think about that too much. Beneath Pinch were a few farmhouses made of stone, smoke trailing from narrow chimney. David hadn’t expected such a rural setting.
As they headed towards the Caress, David looked down, the sky wasn't the only place that was crowded. A hundred people or more waited on the field below them. Some industrious folk had even started selling fried food on the periphery of the crowd.
“This feels wrong,” Margaret said, already walking back to the bag containing her weapons. “I told you it was a mistake to come here.”
David couldn't remember her saying any such thing.
“If Kara Jade says she needs our help, then she needs our help.”
Margaret snatched up a rifle. “And what hold does she have over you?”
“Nothing,” David said, with enough conviction to make it sound believable even to himself. “She saved my life, she saved both our lives. We owe her.”
Margaret wasn’t listening; she sighted down her rifle. “Nothing handier in a negotiation than a gun,” she said. “Except maybe a bigger gun.”
“Don’t you ever listen?” David put a hand on hers. “We are not to go in there, guns blazing.”
Margaret smiled. “You don’t know me very well, do you?”
David tilted his head towards her. “You know, you’re right. So, are you going to go in there, guns blazing?”
“Of course not,” she said, and even she thought she sounded convincing.
The first thing that struck her was the impossibility of it. Rock did not float, and here was a great mountain-sized chunk of it. Her eyes kept seeking out the land to which it was attached, but there was nothing of the sort. It moved in the air, through the air. Then she saw — at the centre of the city — the spire known as the Caress, its shadow reaching out over the buildings. It was said that you could tell time by it, and Margaret could believe that, even if it was the greatest sundial she had ever seen.
Drift's plateau extended at a slight gradient away from the Caress, ending on the steepest gradient of all. Young Aerokin floated and wrestled there, flagella tangling and releasing. And — from the slight excited shudders of the Aerokin that contained them — Margaret could tell it wasn't too long ago that this little craft had played there.
Looking down, Margaret was struck with the familiarity of the sight, and yet how utterly alien it was.
Here was the city of Drift, built on Stone, and yet it floated five thousand feet above the ground. Casting a great shadow over the ground beneath it. Clouds broke on its walls, or were torn apart by the jagged point of its base. Here was a mountain inverted, drifting in the sky.
All at once she understood the arrogance of the people that dwelled upon it.
How could you be anything but, when you had lived in the sky?
The air above it was carnival bright, Aerokin everywhere, in places dozens of them were entwined, an orgy of the sky perhaps, or some more arcane form of communication. Everywhere their bright carapaces gleamed. And beneath them Drifters flew on gliders and wings, chasing the heat. And she was reminded again, and painfully, of her home and the Sweepers that had patrolled the Steaming Vents.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” David said, not even trying to hide the awe from his voice. He almost seemed like the David she had first known. “No matter how many times you see it, it’s amazing. And I have never seen it from this angle. If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never forget this moment.”
And, as if in response, the clouds parted and the sun’s light washed down over the city, and it shone like a great jewel from the point of the Caress to the tops of the hangars. A delicate jewel.
Margaret had seen such things deep in the belly of Tate, gypsum jewels that shone in torchlight, but would splinter to the touch. Drift was like that. Frail as the Aerokin.
It’s all an illusion, she thought. Scintillating and bright, but so easy to end. She could think of a dozen ways that this city could be taken, even with as few as two iron ships. When the Roil came to this city, it would come fast and violently.
And her mood fell with that realisation, and she turned from the sight of the city, to check over her weapons once again. After all, they had no idea what they would face once they landed in the city.
“So much for a surprise arrival,” Margaret said. People down below were pointing. Larger weaponised Aerokin were drawing in.
“I suppose there was never going to be a way to arrive by stealth.”
“Yes, but I didn’t expect a reception either,” Margaret said.
David watched her, and Margaret grimaced at him.
She said, “Better to be prepared for betrayal.”
“Long way from the ground if we are betrayed, don’t you think? What will you do, if that’s the case?”
“Fall,” Margaret said. “If we have to fall, then fall we will.”