Drift Stories/Hands Off the Merchandise
Ilyar sat on the corner of the bar, nursing a glass of brandy in one hand and cradling his head in the other. On the stool beside him sat Bentley, resting their head gently against his arm.
“I’m bored out of my mind here, captain,” Bentley grumbled, kicking their boots against the bar. “When do we get out in the Drift again? The ship’s probably forgotten me by now.”
Ilyar shot a glance out across the mostly empty bar. The pink-purple glow of the Drift bled softly in through the windows at the far end. It had been almost a month since they arrived back at the Cloud Archipelago, and despite his best efforts he had yet to find any jobs worth taking. He looked down at the raccoon, who was now spinning on the barstool. “Where are Solivane and Quartz?”
“Quartz is down on the promenade, something about a new sidearm? Sol is—“ Bentley stopped spinning facing the door. “—here.”
Solivane strode towards them, immaculate white robes drifting gracefully behind them, and dropped an envelope on the bar in front of Ilyar. “This was delivered to the ship. The messenger was most insistent that you read it immediately.”
Ilyar opened the envelope and extracted a carefully folded origami hare. Before he could unfold it, it fluttered gracefully onto the bar and began hopping around with a trail of purple sparkles. Bentley stared at it with unconcealed glee. After a few hops and a rather impressive somersault, the hare flattened itself out into a small square letter with an ornate gilded edge and glistening purple script. Ilyar picked it up and began to read.
Captain Ilyar of the Stationary Traveller, Your presence is most humbly requested this evening in the High Spire Hall. I have a matter of the utmost importance to discuss. Come with discretion, and bring your officers.
The letter was signed with the seal of the Cloud Archipelago, and a large handwritten signature: Kyrie.
“Officers? There’s only us!” laughed Bentley. “Who is this Kyrie? Beautiful penwork, whoever they are.”
Solivane cleared their throat. “Kyrie is the closest thing the Cloud Archipelago has to a leader. She controls most of the arms trade across the charted Drift.” They looked out the far windows at the shimmering purple. “We shall either leave with a job to do, or in body bags.”
Ilyar drained the last of his brandy, flicked a few shiny silver marks into the empty glass, and stood. “Well then, we shouldn’t keep her waiting. Sol, fetch Quartz and meet us back at the ship; we ought to dress to impress.”
***