❖ ''We're at six thousand feet, Cap'n. There shouldn't be land at six thousand feet.'' ❖
Rav is apprenticed by his father's wishes on an airship as unsettling as the deliveries it makes. Dreamcatcher's owner is the only captain on the continent who...
Rav's stomach inverted. He stared at the man, hoping he had drifted off for a moment and dreamed the statement.
"You're tougher than the last kids we had on board," continued the captain. "And good with the ship. And your... skills here." He waved a hand over the collection on the table. "I see all kinds of things on my travels, and I want you to come do this with them. I'll send a letter for your Father when we're back in port. You'll have stable living; room and board, and extra for your family when you have one. I see that all my crew's families are kept well."
He leaned on the table and smiled across it. Rav realized this was the point where he was supposed to reply. He was supposed to say yes. Everything Father had put him through came together in this moment: the moment he secured a job on a known airship, with training and opportunities for advancement and enough pay to buy his own house and hire servants and support a family. The thought snaked around his neck like the dragonette's tail, only cold and tight, threatening to cut off his breathing. This was what airship workers were expected to do. How much family did each of the crew members have? Did they have partners? Children? Parents getting on in age?
He would have everything Father wanted for him.
Or wanted him for.
The endless, unbearable mass of the moment ended when Indra stuck his head in the door. "Cap'n? There's something on deck you might want to see."
The captain grunted and hauled himself to his feet. "Think on it," he told Rav, then waved a hand at the mess on the table. "Do what you did with the other ones." Then they were both gone.
Rav rested his head on his arms.
Come work for me.
There was no way out. No excuse would placate Father if his son turned this down. Rav would pick his own family name, and come home to find no home to come to. Father would treat him with the same stony unrecognition he gave Rav's oldest sister after she left a career in law to open a bakery. He would call the guards like he had the last time Aarohi had come to visit. She had not even sent a letter since.
Mother would cry.
He was crying. The crew shouldn't see him like this. Rav scrubbed his eyes. Manish was not in the galley, so he snuck in and splashed his face with cold water from the washbasin. The drops scattered to the floor like rain.
When he felt more presentable, Rav lifted his head. Quick, hushed voices came from the deck. The hatch was open. Rav took his time down the hallway and up the small, stair-like ladder. Sanjay, Indra and Manish all stood on deck, some ways behind the crouched captain. The man was wrestling with something. With a final grunt he snapped it shut; the clang of metal on metal. He turned with a maniacally wide grin and a cage in one hand.
Inside it was a small, white dragon.
Rav's legs lost all memory of muscle and bone. He dropped to the deck with a thump that stung his knees.
"That was nearly my reaction, boy," beamed the captain. "Looks like your biologists need to check their assumptions. This? This could buy me a new Dreamcatcher right here. We're all rich, boy. We're all rich!"
He cackled, doubled over with almost hysterical laughter. "Rich!" he whooped. "Famous! The ship that traveled where no one goes and came back with the world's last Skydragon!" His captive bumped and swung wildly as he dashed to each crew member and shook their shoulders with both hands. "Our lives are about to change, boys! Change forever!"
The cage landed in front of Rav with a bang. "That's yours to look after, cabin boy," said the captain. Then he was gone, dancing around the deck.
Rav pulled the cage up onto his knees. The dragonette was too petrified to move. She pressed to the cage bottom with eyes huge and wings flattened, as if by her stillness she could turn invisible. On the pale backdrop of the island, she probably almost could.
"I'm sorry." Too stricken to do anything else, Rav hugged the cage. "I'm sorry."
Nobody paid him any attention. Nobody except Manish, who watched with the crippling pain of sympathy. Rav rocked back and forth. Tears drew lines down his cheeks, warm, then cold. He hadn't protected her. He had already failed.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
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