Railsea

x?

Sham focused. Hands & boots were incoming. One of those hands, in fact, was grasping for his bag, & in doing so answering that question.

What this was was a mugging.

THIRTY-ONE

TWO BIG LADS COMING FOR HIM. SHAM DUCKED—HE moved quick for a heavy young man. He was ringed, his attackers shouting, & here they came again & now he was kicking, & he could be proud of that one, but there were too many of them & something hit his face & wow hurt & he tried to pull hair but someone hit his eye & he was all rocked for a second—

Something interrupted. A sound high-pitched & not even distantly human. Enraged vespertilian lungs! Oh, Sham thought, you beauty. From his undesired vantage point, flat on his back, hands up to block a blow, what he saw framed in backlit clouds with wings spread & wingskin taut, descending like a small furry avenging ghost, was Daybe.

& there came another voice. A boy. “Oy, bastard!” Behind the tallest & heaviest of the muggers was the young man Sham had seen watching his own watchers. Here he came, shoving hard & hands up. A gust of blows from the newcomer & a skirr of bony-&-leathery wings from Daybe. The boy’s attacks were, to Sham’s bruised eyes, more enthusiastic than effective, but the muggers scurried out of his way. & they were genuinely terrified by Daybe, small but so demoniac in chattery-toothed appearance.

It was a mad gush rush. Sham was struggling shaky to his feet, the attackers were suddenly scarpering away fast, the boy who’d come to his aid was yelling imprecations as they went, & Daybe—brave & splendid mouse-sized bodyguard, Stone-faced gods of Streggeye bless & keep it—still chased them as if it would catch them & eat them, as if they were flies.

“You alright?” His rescuer turned & helped Sham brush himself down. “You’re bleeding a bit.”

“Yeah,” said Sham. Dabbed at his face with his finger & checked the flow. Not too bad. “Thanks. Yeah. Thanks a lot.”

The boy shook his head. “Sure you’re okay?”

Was Sham sure he was okay? What scraps of doctorliness he had bobbed to the top of his brain. He was mildly surprised to find them there at all. Teeth? All present, only slightly bloodied. Nose? Not loosened, though sore. Face abraded, but that was all.

“Yeah. Thank you.”

The boy shrugged. “Bullies,” he said. “They’re all cowards.”

“People do say that,” Sham said. “I think there must be a few brave bullies out there & everyone’s going to be in a bit of a shock when they meet them.” He checked his pockets. Still had his coin. “How did you know they were going to attack me?”

“Oh.” The boy waved vaguely & grinned. “Well.” He laughed a bit sheepishly. “I’ve done enough ambushing in my time to know when I can see someone else about to have a go.”

“So why’d you stop them?”

“Because eight against one ain’t fair!” The boy blushed & looked away a moment. “I’m Robalson. Where’s your bat gone?”

“Oh, it’s always off. It’ll be back.”

“We should go,” Robalson said. “The navy’ll be here soon.”

“Isn’t that good?” Sham said.

“No!” Robalson began to tug at him. “They ain’t going to help. & you don’t want to get mixed up with that sort of so-&-so.”

Sham went with him a way, confused, then abruptly raised his hands & squeezed shut his eyes. “They got my bag,” he said. “My captain’s stuff. I’m bloody for it.”

He looked vaguely about him. He wanted the bag back, he wanted to punish those muggers, he wanted to track down the children of the wreck, but, lungs full of dust & defeat, he felt suddenly quite deflated. Come on! he tried to think. He tried to think himself into energy. It didn’t go well. “I better go,” he muttered.

“Is that it, then?” Robalson said, to Sham’s back. “Come on, mate!” Sham didn’t answer. Didn’t look back. Began the miserable trudge back to the harbour.

He slowed as he went. Began to feel the ache & scrape of all those injuries. Down the hill he went, through streets & by landmarks he’d not known he’d noticed on the way. Sham dragged out the journey. He more than took his time. He was thinking about the books. He’d clocked how expensive & rare some were.

A figure emerged from an alley ahead, cutting off his morose descent. He stopped. It was Robalson. “Books?” Robalson said. Meeting Sham’s eye, holding out the bag in which was every one of the texts he thought he’d lost.

“HOW DID YOU FIND THEM?” Sham’s question came after a flurry of gratitude & astonishment.

“I know Manihiki better than you. I’ve been here a few times. Second of all I thought I saw your bat circling over something, so I went to check it out. Well, it was: it was over this. That lot who went for you ain’t interested in stuff like this.”

“But these are precious.”

“They ain’t master criminals, they’re just out for a quick dollar. They slung them.”

“& you found me again.”

“I know where the harbour is. It was obvious you were having a bad day, figured you’d head home. So.” Robalson raised his eyebrows. They stared at each other. “Anyway, so,” Robalson said. He nodded. “Glad you got them back,” he said at last. He turned to go.

“Wait!” said Sham. He jiggled the coin in his pocket. “I owe you big-time. Let me … I’d like to say thanks. Do you know any good pubs or whatever?”

“Sure,” said Robalson. He grinned. “Yeah, I know all the best Manihiki places. Near the harbour? We’ve both got trains to get back to.”

Sham thought. “Maybe eight o’clock tomorrow? I have to do something now.”

“The Dustmaid. On Protocol Abyss Street. Eight o’clock. I’ll be there.”

“& what’s your train?” Sham said. “Mine’s the Medes. Just in case there’s a problem I can find you.”

“Oh,” said Robalson. “My train’s—something I’ll tell you later. You ain’t the only one with secrets.”

“What?” Sham said. “What is it? Is it a moler? A trader? Railnavy? Fighter? Salvor? What are you?”

“What is it?” Robalson walked backwards & met Sham’s eye. “What am I? Why’d you think I want to get away from the navy?” He put his hands to the sides of his mouth.

“I’m a pirate,” he said, in an exaggerated whisper, grinned, turned, was gone.

THIRTY-TWO

DAYBE CAME BACK. IT LOOKED PLEASED WITH ITSELF, lazily snapping at local beetles more on principle than out of hunger.

“You’re such a good bat,” Sham cooed. “Such a good bat.” It nipped his nose & drew a blood bead, but he knew it was in affection.

Sham followed the salvor’s directions. “Why’d you want to go there?” the locals asked, but they pointed the