Chasing the Star Garden: The Airship Racing Chronicles (Volume 1) (6 page)

Chapter 8

A
s we came in over Calais, we lowered altitude to catch the main ferry routes across Europe. The total trip from London to Venice would take about twenty-four hours at the
Stargazer’s
normal cruising speed. We’d planned to put in near Zurich before we crossed the Alps. It would be dangerous to cross the mountains at night, and we would need an update on the range’s weather conditions. After outrunning the
Burning Rook
, I figured a little 4,000 meter mountain range would be no problem.

It was near midnight when the red lanterns of Zurich’s airship towers appeared on the horizon. We were grateful. It had been a long day. The laudanum was keeping my headaches at bay and my mood light, but I looked forward to sneaking off for a few hits on a pipe. In Zurich, it would be easy to find somewhere to smoke. It was always easy to find opium; you just had to know where to look. What I wasn’t looking forward to was “the look” Jessup would give when he knew my habit was getting the better of me. Angus never said much. Our history was longer, and he understood me better. I also understood him. I’d fished him out of the bottom of a bottle of Scotch more than once.

There were a dozen ships docked at the Zurich towers, a popular stop for any traveler before and after the Alps. There were transport ships, personal yachts, and some single-person aircrafts, one of which even had an apparatus that looked like wings. Armed watchmen patrolled the platforms. Jessup settled with the stationmaster, and we tethered in for the night.

“Let’s go have a drink,” Sal called encouragingly.

We took the lift down to the wharf at the base of the towers which were situated near Lake Zurich. There were a dozen or so buildings situated there. The wharf was an outpost for travelers: air, land, or sea. The merchant shops, many of which were still open, showcased all manner of supplies. A stone gateway with a clockwork mermaid sitting on top stood over a road that led away from the lake toward the city.

There were a couple of taverns open; we chose the busiest. We could hear the raucous noise within as we drew close. Outside the tavern were parked a dozen or so steam or pedal vehicles, their brass and copper gears glimmering. The tavern lights were powered by a small windmill on the roof that caught the air coming off the lake. The lights flickered from bright to dim, illuminating the sign over the tavern door.

“The Crow’s Nest,” Sal said, reading the German name over the door.

“German too?” I asked.

“It is a dialect of German, but yes, of course,” he said with a smile as he held open the door for me.

Jessup rolled his eyes.

When we entered the tavern, the smell of roasting meat and freshly baked bread nearly overwhelmed me. There was a large stone fireplace at one end of the tavern; a whole lamb turned on the spit. My stomach growled hungrily. I was intrigued, however, by a small clockwork figure at the wheel of the spit. The small machine had arm-like appendages that kept the spit rotating. Behind the bar was a similar contraption pouring ale at what appeared to be the perfect pace.

“Let’s grab a table,” I called.

The place was filled with travelers: air jockeys and their crew, grease stained pedal riders, and steamboat sailors. There were also the usual carnal delights. The barmaids wore black lace or red satin corsets decorated with metal trim, short black skirts or shorts, and lacey stockings. Breasts were more than half heaved out; the customers pawed at the fleshy displays. To add to the bawdy atmosphere, a mostly naked woman sat on a pedestal in a stone alcove near the fireplace playing a
callioflute
. The instrument, powered by steam and water, created sharp, alluring sounds. Water sprayed onto the woman’s body as she worked the mouths of the flute. The steam made her hair curly and skin dewy.

A tavern girl came to our table. The girl wore heavy black eyeliner and had thick, black hair that fell to her waist. She wore a metal choker with a large glass evil eye pendant. She looked decidedly exasperated.

Sal took her gently by the hand and whispered to her in low tones. He worked his magic on her. She left with a smile. After a few minutes she returned with two large trays: four heaping plates of food, two ales, and two decanters of wine. She set every item down with the ease of someone who knows her trade. Sal slid her some coin, whispered something in her ear, and she left smirking.

“Are you always so successful with women?” I asked him as I eyed my plate.

“When I choose. My only thought was to make sure my Lily had the best cut of meat and the finest wine. And, I have been successful,” he said as he poured me a glass from the decanter. He set it down and kissed me on the earlobe.

It was my turn to smile.

“Aye, well, I don’t know what you said, but this is fucking delicious,” Angus said, his mouth already full, as he shoved in a second bite.

We all laughed.

I downed the glass of wine and poured another. While my eyes took in the spectacle, I also noticed traffic moving in and out of a room in the back of the tavern where, no doubt, opium could be found. I felt relieved. I picked up a slice of bread. It was still warm from the oven. The tang of the sourdough filled my mouth. The bread was golden and crunchy on the outside, but the soft bread tucked within melted in my mouth.

We finished our meal, rehashing again the incident with the
Burning Rook
, and soon we were all drunk and feeling very sated. Like two mother hens, Jessup and Angus chided me for not eating enough. They then headed back to the
Stargazer
to keep watch. In London, we knew and trusted the airship security. Zurich, however, was another matter.

Sal and I sat at the table relaxing, but curiosity got the better of Sal and soon we were standing at the bar. I ordered an absinthe while Sal asked the bartender about the clockwork contraptions at the spit and the tap.

“You have come on the right night,” the bartender told Sal in English with a heavy German accent. “Master Vogt is the tinker. That’s him,” he said, pointing to a very old man sitting by the tavern window.

Sal smiled at me. “I’ll only be a moment,” he said. And while I am sure that’s what he intended, I knew better.

I tipped my cap at him then watched as he approached the old man. After a few pleasantries, Sal joined the tinker at his table. I eyed the patrons coming in and out of the back. There was an old woman sitting just by the door. One would barely notice her. She was dressed in all black, her hair covered, her face deeply wrinkled. Each patron spoke to her as they entered, passing her some coins. I popped one more sugar cube, finished off the sharp spirit, and went to the old woman.

“May I?” I asked, gesturing toward the back.

She nodded and held out her hand. I pressed two coins therein. She looked them over then motioned for me to enter. Once I was in the room, the smell of opium filled the space. Others with the opium habit were sprawled on cots. A naked girl who looked like the tavern maid led me to the back where there were a few private, curtained cots. As we passed, I saw all manner of people enjoying the pleasure of opium; some sat in silent stupor, others lay back toking sweetly, one man was being serviced by two beautiful young women, and a man and woman were in the heat of full-on fucking as I passed by. No one paid me any mind. Wordlessly, the girl brought me a pipe and an enormous supply of opium. She smiled at me, motioning to a small bell at the bedside, then closed the curtain and left. I filled the pipe, a dark wood and bronze piece, and lay back. Moments later, I was drifting.

My head felt hazy, and the passage of time seemed to slow. My body had been aching since we left London. Now, I felt fine. In fact, I felt great. I was giddy, and the colors of the kaleidoscope, which safely stowed in my bag, spun in my imagination. I tapped my foot to the callioflute music coming from the tavern and drifted away.

In my mind, a vision of a woman all in gold appeared: her hair, her clothes, her jewels, and even her skin were golden hued. I’d seen her once before, in the kaleidoscope. She danced now to the callioflute music. She spun quickly, trailing colorful veils around her. She spun and spun, her beautiful body bending erotically with the music. Then, at once, she stopped. With a sly grin, she lowered herself to the ground and crept toward me, her back arching catlike. When she neared me, she stroked my cheek and peered deeply at me with her striking multicolored eyes. “Lily,” she whispered. “Wake up!”

Startled, I awoke from my opium stupor. When I opened my eyes, I was shocked to see a man leaning across my body. Was he trying to rape me? A second later, however, I realized he had his hand on my bag: the kaleidoscope.

“Well, mother fucker,” I exclaimed, surprising him.

The man, who had thus far been sneaking, made a grab for the bag. I pulled one leg free and kicked him toward the end of the cot. He tumbled then righted himself, pulled a knife from his belt, and lunged toward me. His greedy hand aimed for my satchel. I slid sideways and with a fist, hammered him hard in the side of the head. His knife hit the pillow. He rolled, grabbing at the bag once more. I jumped backward out of the cot, knocking over the bell the attendant had left.

I stood in the hallway. I was trying to pull my sidearm out of my satchel, but my head was spinning; everything was a muddy haze. The man burst forward. The cot curtains twisted serpentine around him, snagging his arms and legs. He fought them off as he grabbed for me.

Finally pulling my gun from my bag, I was just taking aim as a figure appeared behind the man and dropped a very large mallet on the thief’s head. The man wilted under the blow. Clutching his bleeding head, he turned and fled out the back door.

I ran to the doorway and raised my gun. Though injured, the thief disappeared into the darkness before I got off a shot. I lowered the weapon.

“Are you hurt?” someone with a very thick French accent asked.

Shaking with rage, I could not answer.

“Mon dieu, Lily. Are you all right?” the person asked again, setting their hands on my shoulders.

I turned to find myself face to face with Etienne Souvenir, the French airship racer. “Etienne?” I asked. I thought I might be seeing things. The opium did that to me at times. I stuffed my gun in my bag, put both hands on Etienne’s cheeks, and eyed the Frenchman over. Etienne had long, soft looking strawberry blond hair which was pushed back by his goggles. He was fair; his features were petite and sophisticated. His frame was lean and muscular. He wore tan leather travel breeches and a navy colored jacket, its buttons undone, with a blousy white shirt underneath.

Etienne laughed. “Oui, c’est moi. I think I just saved your life… or at least your satchel. You owe me a drink.”

“I’m not sure what the hell just happened.”

“I was in the cot next to you. I heard a noise, looked out, and found Lily Stargazer in a knife fight in an opium den in Zurich. But I was not surprised,” he shrugged and laughed.

I chuckled, but my stomach had pulled into a knot. I felt angry. Was the man just a thief or was he after me in particular? Did he know what I carried? Would someone kill me for the kaleidoscope? I didn’t even know what the bloody thing was! The sooner I got to Venice the better.

I pulled myself together and followed Etienne back into the tavern. It seemed that no one else was alarmed by the commotion in the back. Such disturbances must have been commonplace. We joined Etienne’s crew at the bar. I smiled nicely and tipped my cap at them. The French team was not a bad racing crew. They usually placed fifth or sixth. Their problem was they were too hesitant, playing the race too safe.

The tavern was still very busy, but Sal was nowhere to be seen. Though I was pretty sure I knew where he’d gone, I was worried.

“Where did the man I was with go?” I asked the bartender.

“With the tinker,” he replied, sliding a glass of water toward me.

“Thank you. By the by, I was just in the back and someone tried to kill me.”

The man nodded nonchalantly but said nothing.

I laughed at the absurdity and ordered Etienne a drink. The tavern keeper set a glass of chartreuse down in front of him.

“I did not see you when I came in,” Etienne said, lifting the drink.

“You rarely see me, Etienne. I am always too far in front of you,” I said with a sly smile as I took his drink from his hand and sipped.

“Ah, she plays with me, no? And after I just saved her life,” he said to his crew with a laugh, taking back his drink. “So why is someone trying to kill Lily Stargazer?”

“That was just an act to see if you would save me,” I said playfully. “I wanted to see if the French are still chivalrous.” I grabbed at his glass for another drink.

Etienne laughed and swiped the glass away from my grasp. “As you can see… to a fault. Why are you in Zurich?”

“I am headed to Italy. Why are you in Zurich?”

“I am here for work on my ship. Eh, you know how it is, constant improvement. I was supposed to meet a tinker here, but I find no one.” While his green eyes sparkled, I noticed he had dark rings underneath.