The Mothers of the Sky, who hasn't wondered at their insight or their political control. No government has been more stable, nor, with the exception of two wars, (and that is two wars over six thousand years) more isolationist. What did they do? How did they rule? Truth is, we know little of it. Just that it worked, and worked for a people so contrary and wild. Nothing was arbitrary, nothing ill-considered, they ruled, and they ruled well.
THE CITY OF DRIFT 1400 MILES NORTH OF THE ROIL
Pinch came down slowly in the field beside the great stony tower of the Caress, her flagella gripping landing pegs set out for her. David couldn’t help but gawp at the famous tower of stone, the tallest structure in Shale other than the Breaching Spire itself. Clouds tangled and tore on its edges. Clouds tore and tangled on everything up here.
The Drifters that waited below were delicate, and lean to a man and woman. David was easily three inches taller than the majority of them. They watched Pinch ’s approach silently, and with a scrutiny that David found unnerving. Just what did they expect to come shambling out of the little Aerokin?
Most of the crowd wore frock coats and capes, with an occasional greatcoat similar to Margaret's. Pilots always dressed in a manner both gaudy and functional, rings gleamed from fingers, brass holsters shone. Their skin was brown like David’s. Margaret stood out even more here. In the light her skin was almost luminous. To the rear of the crowd stood men and women armed with rifles, part of some local militia.
Margaret had seen them too, of course; she was already charging her guns.
“Don’t be foolish,” David said.
“If we’re going to die-”
“If they had wanted us dead, Pinch could have hurled us into the sky at any time. The moment we got onto the roof, our lives were in the Drifters’ hands.”
“And we gave them so easily.”
Then David saw Kara near the front of the crowd; a woman, taller and older than the rest, stood beside her. David tried to work out her age, but couldn’t. A memory spiked within him. He felt his cheeks burn.
“What do you think they want?” Margaret said.
David stared at Kara's companion, tried to access memories that weren't quite his. “We’ve travelled all this way, I believe that they won’t waste too much time in telling us.” No luck, he turned to Margaret, motioned to her guns, then the bag of weapons. “Put them away. We're not here to fight. For goodness’ sake, those are meant to be our allies down there.”
“We're always here to fight. And David, we don't have any allies,” Margaret said, though she slid the rifle back into her bag. She did nothing about the other weapons that she had holstered around her waist.
David frowned at her.
“They can pry these off my dead body, if they wish, but that is the only way that I am ever giving them up.”
David walked to the fore of the Aerokin. The gondola’s doorifice opened for him, admitting the cool air of Drift. He said, “When you decide to die, please don’t take me with you.”
“If I die, at a time not my choosing,” Margaret said, “the whole world will go with me, you included.”
“We need to be very careful,” David said. “Don’t roll your eyes at me.” He buttoned down his cape. “And no destroying the world for a while yet.”
The crowd stood some distance from Pinch — no one coming forward. Indeed, they watched with less than welcoming eyes, until Kara cried out in greeting — the older woman, a Mother of the Sky perhaps, held back.
“David! Margaret! At last, at last, at last!” Kara flung her arms around David, then pulled away, face puzzled. “When did you grow so cold? You’re bloody freezing, cold as death.”
“I’m all right,” David said. “I’m fine.”
David could tell that the older woman wasn’t used to giving the lead to anyone else, and by the crowd’s reaction they weren’t used to seeing it given. Only Kara seemed remotely close to natural, her smile the least forced.
“We thought you were in trouble,” Margaret said, her bag rattling on her shoulder.
Kara looked at the guns holstered at her belt. “Oh — that, that was a misunderstanding.”
“Your letter seemed rather unambiguous,” David said.
Kara cleared her throat and looked away. “Politics is very changeable here,” she said, her voice low, her eyes flicking in the direction of the older woman. “Like the wind, truths shift.”
“Well,” David said. “Whatever the truth, it is good to see you.”
The older woman smiled at him, and once again David felt that familiarity. It was Cadell’s memory. He had shared a past with this woman. Images came to mind, sensations that weren't at all unpleasant. He knew this woman. Cadell had known her, and as intimately as the city. Her dark eyes regarded him steadily, and he felt a jolt run through his body that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
He could see the strength in her, and not just musculature — she was lean, her fingers long, almost delicate, though they moved with a force and a precision that was anything but. She reached out and touched his hand, and there was something electric in the contact. He wanted to pull his hand away only a little more than he wanted to pull himself in closer to her. He did neither, and still her gaze was fixed on him.
“Hello,” he said, his voice catching in his throat, but at least he’d managed to speak first.
“Welcome, David,” she said, her voice as calm as his thoughts were ragged. “I don’t believe that we have had the pleasure-”
“You know who am. Don't pretend otherwise, eh,” she said, and she laughed lightly.
And that familiar laugh thrilled him, in a way that was too unseemly. All at once he felt unsettled, unsure of himself. Who was he? David or Cadell? Could he even tell any more?
“I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce you,” Kara Jade said, and David wondered just what she was playing at. “This is Mother Graine, Air Mistress, and Senior Servant.”
“Servant?”
Mother Graine flashed him a smile. “We do not rule here, we serve.”
“The distinction is subtle, I’m sure,” David said.
Again she laughed that glorious and disconcerting laugh. “It always is, isn’t it? Just as it’s common courtesy to bow to a Mother of the Sky.”
“I’m not in the practice of bowing.” David nodded towards Margaret. “And don’t even bother expecting it of her.” It was Margaret’s turn to give him a look of warning. He hardly noticed it.
Mother Graine clasped her hands together, stared down at the Orbis Ingenium. “So it is you! The wolf in the clothing of such a dull child.”
David blinked. Perhaps he hadn’t taken enough Carnival that morning; it had been hard to administer while Margaret watched him. He gritted his teeth, he was going to fix that and soon. “Not quite,” he said. “Cadell is buried deep.”
Mother Graine nodded, and what may have been disappointment passed across her face. “You are not nearly as annoying as he was,” she said at last. “That’s something at least. He'd have grabbed my hand and dragged me from this place, and we would have been fighting within a minute.”
“You haven’t been around him long enough,” Margaret said.
Mother Graine stared at her appraisingly. “My child,” she said. “I have known him longer than you could believe.” She clapped her hands for silence. And it worked. “Here are our guests. David Milde, lately of Mirrlees, and Margaret Penn of the Tate Penns, last of a line of thinkers — though you would not know it to look at her. We are blessed indeed to have them here. Bid them welcome one and all, let them enjoy our city’s hospitality. For they will not be here long, and where they are going will require strength and bravery beyond anything that either has known.”
“We’ve much to talk about,” she said quietly, to the pair of them. “But not here. Not now.” She gestured to Kara. “Maiden Jade will see to your comfort. We will have a reception tonight, very informal, of course. Afterwards we will talk.”
She dipped her head once, and David bowed, stiffly. Mother Graine laughed. “Tonight,” she said, her eyes searching his face, and David worried that he was disappointing her. “Please, remember that you are welcome here.”