Dragon Airways, Page 2

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  Riette Pickette woke with a start. Disturbing dreams lingered. Something had woken her, and she looked around, waiting for the shadows to move, but nothing did. Creeping to Emmet's room, she found him curled up beneath all his blankets, bathed in moonlight and the dull glow of street lamps streaming through the window. She'd never get back to sleep.

  Her brother had been up late and would likely sleep for at least a few more hours. There was no need to check the cupboards to know precious few scraps remained. The thought of taking Emmet to the bakery again made her blush. While Baker Millman tolerated him well enough, Emmet was especially unpredictable in the bakery, surrounded by so many of his favorite things. Twice he'd been caught helping himself to whatever struck his fancy. No one had ever seen him go behind the counter and take a sweet roll, but there he would be, suddenly eating the very thing they had come to get. He had a certain knack.

  Riette was grateful Baker Millman found Emmet's "tricks," as he called them, amusing. Others called it theft. The number of places Riette could shop was becoming limited. Provided she was by herself, most left her alone, but Emmet drew stares wherever he went. Recent sewing work left her with enough coin to keep them fed and housed, for which she was grateful. It had been, at times, a close thing.

  Dressing quickly, Riette made the decision to slip out to the bakery while Emmet slept. It was something she felt guilty for doing, but her life no longer afforded her the luxuries it once had. Now she was lucky to make a few coppers here and there from folks who knew she did quality work at a cut-rate price. This was another reason the number of places she could shop was shrinking. It pained her to be an outcast among her own community, but mostly she just wanted to be ignored and left alone.

  After lighting a lantern, Riette looked back to make sure she hadn't woken Emmet. He did not appear in his bedroom doorway, and Riette heard nothing. When she turned back, the light reflected from faint footprints along the tile floor, visible only when she held the lantern at a certain angle. Riette's blood went cold. The footprints were from small, bare feet and led all the way to the front door. To her knowledge, Emmet had not been outside all day and had been wearing thick socks before finally going to bed. Winter was not yet finished with them, and the evening air bore a chill. Her mind racing, considering all the ways Emmet could have gotten into trouble while she slept, Riette accepted the fact that she might never know. Rarely did her brother answer a direct question, and even less often were his answers helpful. She loved her little brother, but he did make her life a challenge. She pushed thoughts of her parents aside. That line of thinking usually led to tears and solved nothing. Better to go to the bakery before Emmet awoke and avoid any more trouble.

  After closing the door silently behind herself and easing the lock into place, Riette walked the cobbled streets of Sparrowport, her breath visible in the chill air. Her guard up, Riette heard the men before she saw them. They were close by—too close. She would not be alone in rising early, but most who did lived in the merchant district. Folks in the residential district tended to rise with the sun. Keeping to the shadows, Riette approached the intersection closest to where the men currently stood talking beneath a streetlight. For a moment she stood still, listening. The fact that these men stood in the light and were well dressed did not speak of danger, but Riette had a bad feeling in her gut.

  The two men stopped talking and walked back into the courtyard her apartment shared with a dozen others. One of the men spoke, his voice clearly audible. It was the magistrate. She recognized his voice from when he had scolded her and her brother. No matter that she'd offered to pay for anything Emmet had taken, some could not find forgiveness in their hearts. Riette was not perfect, but she felt sorry for those who couldn't recognize how special and harmless Emmet truly was. No matter what mischief he'd ever gotten into, he'd never hurt anyone.

  Sparrowport's merchant district exuded an aroma that drew Riette on; even at night, when the shops were closed, the fragrance lingered. There was something magical about the mixture of the fires burning at the bakery and the smithy, the baked goods, and the tangy sea air. Historic architecture lent to a feeling of timelessness, as if Sparrowport had always been there in that state while the world around it continued to change.

  Riette's stomach rumbled by the time she reached the bakery, but she couldn't help sneaking a look into the smithy as she passed. It was dark, the coals in the forge still banked for the night. In some ways, Riette was relieved. Next door, Baker Millman worked hard while most slept. Three loaves of bread waited in the day-old bread bin, which was where Riette usually shopped. On that day, though, she also hoped to get something fresh. Without saying a word, she watched the baker work, hoping to see sweet rolls emerge from the ovens.

  "Can I get you anything else?" Baker Millman asked, obviously not expecting her to ask for anything. She rarely did.

  "Do you have any sweet rolls coming out soon?"

  "They'll be a little while longer," he said. "And they have to cool before I can ice them."

  "I see. Thank you. This will be all, then. I must be going."

  The man gave a knowing nod, having no doubt noticed Emmet's absence and the early hour of her visit. A moment later, the door opened and Brick walked in, making the bakery suddenly appear much smaller. Dear, sweet, persistent Brick.

  He grinned at her and leaned on the counter. "Morning, Millman."

  The baker grunted and tossed two wax-wrapped packages on the counter. "That hinge is coming loose again."

  "Again?" Brick sighed. Sometimes Riette wondered if he really wanted to be a smith. "I'll come back later with a bigger hammer."

  Baker Millman waved him off and went back to work pulling, among other things, sweet rolls from the ovens.

  "What are you doing here, anyway?" Brick asked Riette without waiting an instant. "Didn't you hear what happened up your way last night?"

  "No. What?" she asked, her bad feeling growing worse.

  "Someone was killed not far from your place, and people were seen snooping around. I think it's the Zjhon, but I'm not allowed to investigate any further. Father told me to stay out of it. He's afraid I'll get myself killed. If there really are Zjhon sneaking around killing people . . ." his thick brow furrowed. "Where's Emmet?"

  "I have to go," Riette said.

  "Here. I'll go with you."

  Before she could say no, Baker Millman interrupted. "Just one more minute," he said, working with icing on rolls not yet at the right temperature. But he was determined. A moment later, he handed Riette a wrapped package with two sweet rolls that warmed her hands through the paper. After paying Baker Millman and settling the purchases in her bag, Riette turned to leave.

  Brick followed. She held a hand up to his chest to stop him. Physical contact always worked to his advantage; he was so strong and handsome. "Stay here," she said, knowing her face was flushed. "Do as your father says. He's right."

  Brick's expression soured. "You let me know if you need anything," he said, now resigned to going back to work at the forge instead of out adventuring and battling the Zjhon.

  "Good morning, my little Ri Ri," Joren called from within the smithy.

  Waving in return, Riette hurried on. Part of her regretted telling Brick not to come, but a bigger part knew he stuck out anywhere but at the forge, and she didn't want to be noticed. If a man truly had been killed, there would be questions, and she didn't want any of those questions coming back to Emmet, who was poorly prepared to answer them.

  Footprints.

  The thought slammed into Riette like a hammer. Emmet was in no way capable of killing anyone; he'd never been anything but peaceful and sweet with the exception of his ill-timed outbursts. What connection could he possibly have to this? And if the Zjhon truly were here, looking for people, then the war was perhaps not so far away after all. Riette quickened her step.

  When she turned the last corner, she wasn't truly surprised to see the magistrate and a few other
s still looking about, though she had hoped to avoid them. Had she known they would be at that spot, she would have come in a different way. It was the very reason she and Emmet lived where they did: multiple points of egress.

  "You're off to an early start this morning, Miss Riette," the magistrate said, tipping his hat.

  The simple statement was both observation and accusation, and Riette recognized it for what it was. It was everything she could do to keep the tremor from her voice when she answered. "Yes, sir."

  Saying nothing more, she did her best not to meet his gaze. Though guilty of nothing, she felt like a thief trying to escape from beneath the arm of the law. There was no way to know if Emmet had done anything wrong or not, and she presumed him innocent. Feeling eyes on her and drawn by irresistible need, she looked back. The magistrate and several others watched, knowing exactly who she was and that she was almost never without Emmet by her side. So much for not attracting attention. Riette's breath caught on seeing another pair of eyes watching from the shadows not far away.

  Once inside, she bolted the door, knowing it would do little to stop the magistrate and his men. As Brick always told her, "Locks are just there to keep the honest people out. Anyone truly determined will find a way to get past a lock."

  She found Emmet sitting on the side of his bed, wide awake. Riette was about to ask if he was all right when the banging on the door started. "I'll be right there," she shouted in response. Had it been the magistrate, he would have identified himself, but no one spoke.

  Emmet didn't even look surprised. Dressed warmly in knickers with boots laced up over his calves, he wore a buttoned shirt, woven vest, and a flat cap that made him look like a miniature version of older boys. All the years living with a renowned seamstress had ingrained certain values in Riette and Emmet as well. That thought always threatened to bring her to tears, but she held them back, something at which she'd become adept.

  Swallowing hard, Riette took Emmet's hand. With a final glance back at all the things she'd worked for and that remained of what her parents had left behind, she led him through the basement tunnel. It would at least give them a head start.