Chapter Two Hundred and Thirty - A Cry​

“Spin, spin!” I said.

Awen giggled and twirled around, her coat flaring out around her until she stopped and it whipped around, wrapping about her figure. “It’s comfortable,” she said. “A bit heavy, but not too bad.”

Wilbur nodded, looking like the frog that caught the fly.

Amaryllis bounced up and down a few times, getting used to the new weight of her jacket. “This isn’t bad work,” she said. “A few enchantments for weight and durability, and this will be decent armour.”

Neither of my friends were as armoured as I’d like. They didn’t have helmets, for one, and their limbs were mostly unarmoured, but I couldn’t force everyone into full-plate just because I was a little worried, certainly not when my own armour didn’t cover everything. I wouldn’t be a hypocrite.

Besides, full-plate made hugging awkward. It made the hugs less warm and less cuddly and a whole lot louder.

“It’ll be a pain to change back into this all the time,” Amaryllis said.

“Well, we usually know more or less when we’re going on an adventure,” I said. “I wear my armour all the time because... uh, I think it’s cool and comfy, but you could just wear yours when you think there’s going to be trouble.”

Amaryllis nodded. It wasn’t that big a compromise to make.

Wilbur thanked us for our patronage, and seemed more than happy when Amaryllis gave him a few golden coins for his work.

“The armour is a good idea,” Bastion said as we stepped out of the armourer’s shop. It was a bit chilly outside. “In nearly every conceivable scenario, it’s best not to be hit at all, but that can require some skill and luck that isn’t always available. In those cases where you will be hit, having even a little armour is better than not.”

I nodded along. That made sense. “Are we going back to the Beaver right away?” I asked.

“Might as well,” Amaryllis said. “We don’t have much to do here, and the refueling shouldn’t take all that long. They should be on their way now, and I suppose at least one of us ought to be there.”

“I think Clive and the Scallywags can take care of it,” I said.

“Ah, I’d like to be there,” Awen said. “Some of the fuel bunkers are tricky to open, and I don’t want them spilling things on the workshop floor. The fuel stinks.”

“Really?” I asked. I didn’t spend too much time next to the Beaver’s engine, or in the little workshop Awen used. “If there is a spill, let me know. I can probably clean it up for you.”

Awen nodded easily at that. “It would still be a waste.”

That was a fair point. We were paying for all the fuel, so we should be using it all.

We took a different route back to the top, not to sightsee so much as because I kinda forgot which catwalk we’d used the last time. It did mean that we got to see more of the interior of Wallwatch.

The edges of the hanging town all overlooked the forest and fields below, with a lot of shade cast by the wall itself making it cooler. The inner-sections of the city were a lot darker, with magic lamps casting flickering light across streets made of corrugated iron and boxy little homes tucked in tight against each other.

It was still lively, though. Kids ran across the street, chasing after balls with strings tied to them in a sort of weird game. There were humans and harpy children, and a few sylphs too. We even crossed an adorable cervid foal stumbling after the others on four gangly legs.

We found a stairwell leading all the way to the top of the city, a point above even the docks where a few airships were sitting next to their piers. The Beaver Cleaver wasn’t difficult to make out from the others. It was, in my humble opinion, the most colourful and friendliest ship in the whole lot.

We didn’t do drab greys and browns like all of the other ships.

“Our ship looks like it’s piloted by a jester,” Amaryllis mumbled.

I laughed as I skipped ahead.

We arrived at the Beaver just before the people for the refueling did. They were mostly young men whose job seemed to be dragging around a big, heavy looking tank set onto a cart with a hand-pump on the side and a long length of hose.

Awen jumped to help them, pointing to the places on the deck that needed to be opened up, and directing the workers when it came time to finally pour the fuel into the Beaver’s reservoirs. It was, apparently, a fairly dangerous task. They had a mage on their team whose entire job was to make sure there were no sparks or fires around the gas, kind of like a reverse Amaryllis.

It was neat at first, but I soon lost interest as they took turns pumping one squirtful of fuel after another into the tank.

That’s probably why I was the first to see the crystalline figure hovering by the pier leading to the Beaver.

One of the cry? They were a big, bright blue crystal, a little shorter than I was, but taller on account of how they floated a few centimetres off the ground. No face that I could see. Or organs, for that matter. Their body was like a many-faceted sapphire on one side, and smooth on the others. I could see right through them.

Little zipping flashes of light snapped through their body, like lightning in a bottle. Magic? There had to be something giving them life.

“Hello!” I said. I was pretty sure I was talking in the local language too, so they had to understand that. Neat!

The hovering crystal slowed to a stop, and I felt a sort of shiver run across me. Had I just been scanned?

They rang, like a windchime being tapped ever so lightly. “Greetings,” they said.

“I love your voice,” I said. “It’s very pretty.”

The being paused, then bobbed up and down. “Thank you, long-eared one.”

I giggled. That was a new nickname. “No problem! I’m Broccoli. Broccoli Bunch!”

“Our name is difficult for the soft to speak,” they said with three quick rings.

I climbed over the Beaver’s rail and sat down atop it so that there wasn’t anything between us except for a long drop. “What is it? I might not have the vocal chords to say it, but I can try my best.”

“We are the Shard of Waterwatches Compassion, Third Split and One Whole.”

That was a mouthful. Each little bit of the name came with a humming tone, like little bells being tapped in some sort of sequence that flowed into the next. Like someone dropping a box of marbles onto a xylophone.

“That’s a very pretty name,” I said.

“We thank you. Your name is also... interesting, vegetable pile.”

I snorted. Another new nickname. I think I liked ‘long-eared one’ better. “What does your name mean? I’ve never really spoken to any of you before.”

“It is rare to find one that understands. We are a shard of Waterwatches, a cry that earned a name. We were split from their compassion, the third to have been split, and we are whole.”

“Oh,” I said. I didn’t get it, not entirely, but I could kinda figure it out. “Cry don’t have babies?”

“We do not. When we grow grand enough to have earned a name, we may take a small portion of ourselves and give it life.”

That was so cool! “Neat!”

The cry hovered there for a moment, and I had the impression it was looking at me, then at the ship behind me. “Our name is long to some of the soft ones. We have grown accustomed to earning honorary, though temporary, names.”

I nodded. That made sense. “I’ll try to keep your name in mind then, Shard of Waterwatches Compassion, Third Split and One Whole.” I coughed to clear my throat. That had come out as a bunch of really high notes that really tickled. “Did I pronounce that right?”

The cry shifted from side to side. “It was a valiant attempt.”

I laughed. “That’s a no!” I shrugged. “I can’t pitch my voice that high, sorry. So, what are you doing at the docks?”

“We are seeking assistance in exchange for services rendered or precious materials given.”

“You’re trying to hire someone?” I asked.

The cry bobbed up and down again. Was that a natural gesture, or were they copying a human’s--or some other headed person’s--nod? “What kind of help are you looking for?”

“We seek passage to the Lonely Island.”

The Lonely Island. That rang a bell. “That’s to the north, right? Between here and Sylphfree?”

The cry did its nod again. “We... have one that must be delivered to the island. It is a sensitive manner, but one we would pay dearly to see happen.”

I considered it. I was pretty sure we were going to be passing that way anyway. “I could ask my friends. I don’t know what transporting a cry is like, but I do think it would be fun to have one aboard. We could become friends!”

Shard of Waterwatches Compassion, Third Split and One Whole.
Dream: To grow grand and earn a name.
Desired Quality: Someone who would mirror their compassion, and help them protect the unprotected.

“We can fly already,” they said. “But the one we wish to protect cannot. We need assistance. And this matter is more delicate than it seems.”

“More delicate how?” I asked.

The crystalline being didn’t move for a moment, I had the impression they were hesitating, and when they replied, it was with softing tinkles and chimes. “We are not the kindest of people. Calm, yes, and we don’t seek what others have, but we can be as cruel as any soft one. We think this matter is one in which that cruelty shows. We have one that would be broken, their shards buried and cracked. We, personally, do not wish for this to happen. They don’t deserve it. Some cry would disagree.”

They were protecting someone, someone that needed to be brought to the Lonely Island to be safe? It was a little strange, and I didn’t have the full picture, which didn’t help any. “Well, the Beaver here will be leaving in a few minutes, maybe in an hour or two at most. And we are heading that way. We’d need to talk with Amaryllis and some of the others about taking on a passenger or two, but I don’t think they’d mind all that much.”

“We would be grateful,” they said while tipping our way in what I suspect was an imitation of a bow.

I spun around on the railing and jumped to my feet. “Give me two seconds. I need to talk to my friends.”

The cry agreed, and hovered there while I bounced over to Amaryllis. She was looking over a ledger of sorts, making little marks with the nib of a feather that I suspected was one of her own. “Having fun?” she asked without looking up.

“Yeah! Never met a cry before, really. They’re nice, I think.”

“They? Do they have genders?”

“I have no idea,” I admitted. “But maybe we’ll have time to find out.”

She looked up, eyes narrowing. “Broccoli.”

“I didn’t say anything yet!” I defended myself.

“I’m no idiot. What did you do?”

“Nothing yet. Shard of Compassion is looking for transportation.”

“We’re not a passenger ship,” Amaryllis said.

I nodded. “I know. But they want to go to the Lonely Island.”

“There’s nothing there,” she said.

“So there’s no risk in dropping them off.”

She huffed. “Did they want transportation back?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Just there. They can fly, apparently. They want to carry something... or someone, to the Lonely island. I think it’s a smaller cry? But I’m not sure.”

“Hmm,” Amaryllis said. “I know cry don’t eat, and they don’t sleep, so there’s no cost there.” She sighed. “Let me talk to them. We’ll see.”

I, of course, hugged the stuffing out of her. “Awesome! This is going to be so cool!”

***