Angel Arias by Marianne de Pierres Page A

can I help that?’
    ‘Take me to Grave, as we planned. Maybe what I learn there will help you find a way to reverse the badges,’ Naif insisted.
    ‘And wait here for you to return?’ She waved her hand to indicate the airship. ‘Cast from my own home by children ?’
    ‘We aren’t children,’ said Naif. ‘Your sister isn’t a child anymore.’
    ‘Don’t speak of my sister!’ she roared.
    Silence fell around the table while Ruzalia stared moodily out the window.
    None of them showed much appetite, knowing Mesree was lying dead in the cabin below.
    ‘Fross!’ Ruzalia got up and stalked the length of the floor. ‘I’ll give you two days. That is all . . .  Find me answers, or I’ll use my own methods to quell them.’
    Naif nodded. ‘Markes is coming with me.’
    ‘If we succeed you will have your home back,’ Markes added quietly. ‘To yourself.’
    Ruzalia cocked her head as if considering the possibility. ‘Very well . . . two days in Grave.’ She nodded across the table to El Lobos. ‘Take us down so we can bury our dead.’

     
    The ceremony for Mesree was brief and heart-wrenching. La Lobos landed the airship on the most southern beach of the island, where the wind buffeted them so wildly they were forced to fill extra sand bags to tether it.
    Long-Li was waiting for them on the sand, a lone figure against the dying sunlight and whipped waves.
    Plank carried Mesree’s cloth-wrapped body along the beach and placed her gently on the sand at Long-Li’s feet. He then returned to the airship and they all waited while the small man said his farewells.
    When Ruzalia judged the time right, they trudged to the line of stunted bushes above the dune where Long-Li had prepared a grave.
    Plank, El and Long-Li lowered Mesree in, and the pirates all helped to cover her body with the white and silver sand.
    ‘Rest well, old friend. You’ll be missed.’ Ruzalia’s words came out tight, as if she was holding them back for fear of what they might do.
    Alongside her, Plank’s shoulders slumped with weariness. He’d carried Mesree up those stairs from where she’d fallen, only to have to bring her here to rest.
    Naif bit her lip. She’d hardly known this woman who’d saved their lives; she did not feel entitled to shed tears for her. That was the province of her loved ones.
    Charlonge and Markes shifted closer to Naif as Long-Li knelt by the grave and rocked silently with grief. Naif slipped her arms around their waists, and they around hers. The sharing of the terrible moment eased the pain, and finally Ruzalia called them all away.

 
    M arkes woke Naif from dark, unhappy dreams. Demons and blood and Rajka holding Mesree’s carving knife.
    She gripped his hand for a second while she oriented herself, and then let go, embarrassed.
    ‘We’re here,’ he said.
    It was almost dawn. They’d been travelling all night and Naif had been lulled asleep by exhaustion and the airship’s sway and dip. Next to her Charlonge was still dreaming, her eyelids fluttering.
    Naif blinked a few times and stared at Markes, suddenly remembering the first time they’d met. Even though it had been night-time then, the party lights had revealed his muscular silhouette. On that night, he’d held her in his arms to stop Ruzalia snatching her away. How different would things have been, had he not?
    ‘Nightmares hard to shake?’ he said, softly.
    She sighed. ‘I was remembering when we met on the barge.’
    He gave a brief smile. ‘It seemed simple then. Everything seemed . . . simple.’
    ‘Are you sure you want to come with me?’
    He nodded. ‘I know someone who may be able to help.’
    Naif couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. ‘You didn’t say that before.’
    ‘I was hesitant,’ he said. ‘It would come at a cost. But now I know that the cost of doing nothing is worse.’
    ‘Who is it?’
    ‘A friend whose father is an Elder.’ He didn’t seem to want to say any more. Naif held back