Chapter Four Hundred and Fourteen - Can You Say Uncle

“Could it be a coincidence?” Caprica asked.

We were back in the Beaver’s dining room, sitting around the table where Amaryllis had placed the race pamphlet.

“I suppose that’s possible,” Amaryllis said. “Awen’s uncle is somewhat... infamous, and his airship is featured in many of his stories.”

“I never heard of him before we went to the Snowlands. Is he a big deal around here?” Calamity asked.

“Uncle is... uncle,” Awen said. “When he was young, he was one of the more important members of the Exploration guild. He helped map out the entire continent, and fought all sorts of powerful monsters and... a lot of small places kind of owe him for helping them. He’s also very strong.”

“Right,” Calamity said. “How old is he, anyway?”

“Um, old?” Awen said. “He’s ten years older than papa, awa, I mean, my dad. And dad had me and my siblings when he was old, so... I don’t know, exactly?”

I rubbed at my chin in thought. “So, because Awen’s uncle is popular, I guess it’s possible that the Shady Lady in the race isn’t the same Shady Lady that Abraham has. But... it might be the same ship. And this kind of race sounds, hmm, Awen, do you think your uncle would participate in something like this?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “He’d love this kind of thing.”

“High risk, middling rewards, lots of chances for everything to go horrifically wrong,” Amaryllis listed off on her talons. “Yes, this sounds like exactly the kind of thing Abraham Bristlecone would get up to.”

Caprica leaned back into her seat with a shrug. “There’s one way to find out. We go out and check. Awen, you’d be able to recognize the ship, right? Also, are we really going to see this guy?”

“It’s Abe! He’s really cool, of course we have to see him,” I said.

“Ah, of course I’d recognize the Shady Lady!” Awen said. “Uncle used to let me help with maintenance. Not that, uh, he did maintenance himself most of the time. He usually had Raynold with him. He taught me a lot. I think Raynold’s third class is something mechanic-related?”

“Third class?” Calamity said. Then he whistled. “Dang. Your uncle keeps scary company.”

“Well, if Awen’s sure she can recognize the ship--” Caprica started.

Awen, rather uncharacteristically, cut in before Caprica could finish. “I am. I spent enough time around her growing up. The shape of the hull, the rigging, the sound of the engines... I'd know her anywhere."

"So it's decided then," I said, rising to my feet and giving the table a firm thump for good measure. "We'll go down to the race site, have a look at the ships, and see if the Shady Lady is really Abraham’s Shady Lady."

"And if it isn't,” Amaryllis, with her ever-practical mind, added, “We'll have wasted only a little bit of time and gotten a tour of Smoulderglen. If it is, we'll have a chance to reconnect Awen with her uncle, which is a chance we cannot afford to miss. Abraham is, despite all of his... unique characteristics, still a very well-connected man."

Awen looked a bit flushed, a shy smile playing at her lips. "I... I would like to see Uncle again."

"Then it's settled," I said, my ears perked high in determination.

Of course, it was easy to say that things were settled, and a bit more complicated for them to actually be settled. The Beaver couldn’t just be abandoned, so we left the dining room and prepared to head out, which meant gearing up in case of trouble and telling the crew about our departure.

Which is what led me to having a quick conversation with Clive who was sitting on the railing next to the wheel. “Ya know, Captain, if you want to bring the whole crew to a show like that, we can park the Beaver somewhere safe and then head on in. I’m not all that fond of racing and the like myself, I wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on him.”

“Oh! That'd be really nice of you,” I said. “I don’t know if we’ll stay to watch the race, but if we do, then... thanks! I might take you up on that.”

It would be nice to have a day off with the others to watch the race! I bet the Scallywags would love that. The ticket prices that I’d seen on the pamphlet weren’t all that bad, either. It felt like they might have been keeping the prices low so that they could get more people to buy their overpriced snacks or something.

Once everyone was ready to go, I headed down the ladder and hopped off onto terra firma once more.

Farrell was sitting not too far off, chatting with his dwarven friend while the both of them sipped from brown glass bottles. “Heading out?” he asked.

“Just a few of us,” I said. “We think one of our friends might be participating in the race!”

“Oh, that’s exciting,” he said. “Going to wish them good luck, then?”

I bobbed my head in a nod. “Yup! Do you know where the racers, ah, park their racers?”

Farrell snorted. “Yeah, I do. I can show ya the way. I got nothing much to do until nightfall and the real drinking starts.”

“That’d be much appreciated,” I said.

So off we went. Farrell led the way, and my friends and I followed after him as he marched off into the streets of Smoulderglen.

The roads were quiet near Farrell’s place, and most of the homes were nice little places with little yards and gardens out back, but soon we were getting closer to the centre of the city and the homes squished in a little and were broken up by large warehouses and small factories.

The buildings seemed to range across a few styles, but most of them used local bricks and stone, with the occasional wooden accent. The roofs were almost all red tiles though, and many buildings we passed had been painted a bright red at some point.

As we came closer to the centre of town and we began to see more people, I started to people-watch a little. Smoulderglen’s population was mostly human, it seemed, which made sense. We were near Mattergrove, which was human-run, and the Independent cities were also mostly human. But there were plenty of harpies around as well, and I noticed a number of dwarves.

Had they come down here from the Snowlands to the north? The beards were different, trimmed a bit closer to the chin and more triangular than the long, flowing beard of the Snowlander dwarves.

There were a number of repair yards like Farrell’s around the city, but nearer to the centre, those were replaced by big towers of stone and scaffolding where airships were docked to the sides. Nets hung under the ships to catch the workers crawling over the vessels and fixing them up.

Farrell led us towards a large, open space that had been transformed into a makeshift airship yard. A chain-link fence cut the space in half, and it was further divided into smaller spaces where different crews had set up tents and tarps atop some of the smallest airships I’d ever seen.

Some of them had logos painted on their hulls, for different local shops and companies, and others had paintings of flames and pretty girls plastered on their sides. There was clearly more to the racers than just the idea of a ship that went fast. It had to also catch the eye while going fast.

Some were built for speed with sleek, streamlined hulls and massive engines. Others were more ornate, decorated with intricate patterns and vibrant colours, clearly designed for show rather than speed. The names of the airships were proudly displayed on their hulls, and some crews had even hoisted flags with their logos or emblems.

“This is it,” Farrell said. “Not all the ships are here, mind. Plenty of folk will hide their craft until the morning of the race. Competition’s tough, you know? And watch out around here. Tempers run as hot as the competition sometimes.”

I nodded my head. I could see some of the racer crews already, shirtless men practically posing next to their ships, trying to one-up each other while mechanics checked and rechecked things in the background.

Amid all the ships and signs and posters and ads and even the people shouting for attention while selling confections, I caught sight of a particular ship that didn’t have a panoply of ads all around it or a colourful paint job or anything that made it stand out too much.

It was a wooden-hulled ship, with poles sticking out of it for its sails and wood that was clearly mismatched, as if it had been flown into a forested mountainside, repaired with rough-hewn planks harvested from the trees they knocked down, and then immediately crashed into another mountain. There were still scrapes along its hull, and one of the letters on its side didn’t quite match the others.

The Shady Lady was still a beautiful craft though. Its little cabin at the rear was quaint, and she somehow managed to feel... classy, despite the beatings she had taken.

She was an old lady, weather-beaten and tough as nails, but still spry where it counted.

“That’s the Shady Lady!" Awen pointed at the ship I'd been looking at. "I'd recognize her anywhere!"

She ran up to the fence that separated the visitors from the ships, then started looking for a way around it. She stepped back, then looked up to the top of the fence. It was almost twice as tall as she was.

Awen glanced back at me. “Can we jump it?” she asked.

“Uh, maybe?” I said. It wouldn’t be too hard, but there were lots of people around.

Shrugging, I decided that making Awen happy was more important than a rule. Besides, Abraham wouldn’t be upset with us. So I scooped Awen up. She squeaked, but then clung on tight as I jumped up and over the fence with a bit of stamina pushed into my legs.

I set her down on the other side, then jumped back over. By the time I got there, Caprica had already taken to the air. “I might be a princess, but I’d rather avoid being carried,” she said as she flew up and over the fence. Amaryllis huffed, then jumped onto the fence and clambered up.

So I glanced at Calamity, arms ready to grab onto him.

“You know, I’m part cat, right? I can jump over something like that no problem,” he said.

“I know, but I came all the way back to help,” I said.

Calamity snorted, then leaped up into my arms.

He was much lighter than I expected, which made jumping over with him nice and easy.

As we gathered closer to the Shady Lady, a gruff voice boomed out behind us. “Haha! Awen! Is that you?!”

Awen spun around, eyes wide and mouth opening to exclaim something, but before she could say anything there was a blur and an oomph and suddenly Awen was being spun around in the arms of a huge, burly man.

“Haha! Little Awen!” Abraham said. He was as big as I remembered, which was to say, he was physically a bit smaller than me, but his sheer presence made him feel like a giant. I hadn’t felt that much of a presence in someone since I’d met Caprica’s dad.

His moustache was as fabulous as ever, and he’d gained a few new wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, but they were curved up in a big smile. His eyes caught my attention, they had the same spark as Awen’s.

“Ahaha! Broccoli, Amaryllis! You kept Awen in one piece!” he said. Or shouted? It was hard to tell with Abraham.

“Yup! We’ve been wi--omph!” I started only to be cut off as Abraham swept me and Amaryllis up in his hug.

It was nice to see Abraham again, even if it meant being squished until I couldn’t breathe!

***