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The five of them descended a legion of stairs, and Rush’s heart beat faster with every step down. Each second brought him closer to his hearing, closer to whatever judgment awaited. He chewed his lip. Olive walked beside him, and her shifting eyes betrayed the apprehension Rush felt.
The stone walls of the spiral staircase melted away, and he saw himself walking beside his friend another time, nearly two months ago. A third companion had been with them that day. Then, Rush had been pure confidence in human form. But heading to the trial, not even his parents’ assuring presence could ease the tightness in his chest or the fluttering in his stomach.
They passed several other parties on their way down. The Arcian compass rose announced some as part of the volantry. Others bore no sign but dressed just as ornately. Gold-trimmed coats and hats embellished nearly every man in sight. Scornful eyes fell on Rush’s ragged appearance, but he kept his attention on the steps. His hopes of mercy from the Court of Arbiters dwindled. If they were anything like this crowd, they would probably throw him in jail just for dirtying their floor.
Finally, the last step came, and they emerged into daylight. A wall, about the same height as Rush, and a small gate surrounded the base of the obelisk. They followed a wide cobbled path to the open gate, passing under the archway and past two pike-wielding guards.
Past the arch, a river of gold and jewels glittered in the afternoon sun. Hundreds of people surged past, many on foot, others on steam-powered carriages, packed so thickly that Rush could barely see the ground beneath their feet. Elaborate buildings cast shadows on equally lavish crowds flooding a broad street. Clanging bells, shrieking whistles, and babbling travelers clogged the air. Everything stunk of smoke and soot.
He stumbled back. Never had he seen so many people at once—and this was only one street out of many. How can anyone want to live here? Father, who had been walking behind him, nudged Rush forward. He said something about being careful, staying near the others, but the boy hardly heard it. He struggled to steady his breathing. “Do we have to go in there?”
Vance glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Fortunately, we do not. It would take all week to arrive at the royal complex that way.” A whistle screeched again and drowned out the captain’s words. He stopped and nodded toward the source of the racket.
A long chain of carriages cruised across metal rails set into the road. It inched forward, steam rolling from a spout in the front carriage, still blaring its piercing call as people scrambled out of its way. The hiss and chug of a steam engine—something Rush had become familiar during his time aboard airships—deafened him. Finally, it halted beside them and exhaled with a puff of steam, as if exhausted by the weight of its cargo. Important-looking passengers spilled out of the side doors. Rush shrunk behind Father as the swarm shoved past their party. Elbows jostled him back and forth, stern faces passing by.
As quickly as they appeared, they vanished into the flow of traffic. Vance beckoned the group toward an open door in one carriage. Others emerged from the obelisk courtyard and boarded the machine behind them.
Rush mounted the steps upward into the coach, eyes wide. Cushioned seats lined both sides of a central aisle. Windows faced the metropolis beyond. Father, Mother, and Olive settled into seats, but Vance stood beside Rush beside the door with a grin tugging at his lips. “Impressed?” He nodded.
He trailed Vance toward the rows where their party sat. Rush slipped into the empty seat beside Mother—who sat next to Father—while Vance and Olive rested on a bench facing the family. The captain smiled and held his chin high, gesturing grandly at the contraption they rode. “They call it a nebumotive. A cloud carriage. Rapid transportation for those in the king’s employ. This will convey us directly to our temporary home until a trial can be arranged.”
Rush leaned forward and stared past his parents out the window. The walls of the nebumotive muffled the din outside, but his heart still raced. Like everyone else, he had heard rumors of the contraptions that roamed New Atlantis. But seeing them with his own eyes? His mind swam; he shuddered to think of such power turned against him, now an enemy of Arcia.
The vehicle lurched forward. Rush clung to the bench as it picked up speed. The carriage leaned back, and soon the nebumotive coasted on a track one story off the ground. His gaze hooked on the sights outside. New Atlantis exhibited her grandeur in every building, every street. He sat motionless, hardly blinking, even as his stomach fluttered with apprehension.
Vance cleared his throat. “Now, as Rush is, according to law, a criminal, he will lodge in our prison in the royal complex while I organize a trial. It’s a most respectable place, I assure you. I myself have visited there many times.” Rush raised his eyebrows. Vance coughed. “On official business, of course. Not as a prisoner. But that is beside the point.
“He will wait there until an arrangement can be made. The rest of you will accompany me to the guest quarters.” All nodded; Rush studied the metal floor. He dreaded being locked in a cage for who knew how long, a place empty of fresh air and sunlight. Nothing to do all day. But what had made him think he would receive any better treatment? Vance leaned forward and stared past Olive. “We near the palace.”
Rush followed his gaze, and his lips parted. From their elevated viewpoint, the ensemble of government buildings—covered in spires and topped by domes—stretched across a grassy field. An enormous Arcian flag atop the largest building swayed in a light breeze, and innumerable other banners bearing the compass rose decked every structure.
Rush breathed in sharply and leaned closer to the window. “I think I like New Atlantis a lot better from up here.”
Vance tilted his head? “Why is what?”
“Too many people down there.”
He smiled. “You had best grow accustomed to it. You’ll be seeing much more of them ‘down there’ soon enough.”
As he finished speaking, the nebumotive began lowering to reunite with the ground. The complex doors approached. Rush shivered and hunched over.
The next days would be miserable. And there was nothing he could do about it.
Four days passed before Vance could arrange a trial. His parents visited his cell often, bringing food, encouragement, and news of the outside world, but Olive stayed by his side the entire time. She sat outside the metal bars, sometimes talking, sometimes listening to Rush, sometimes sleeping. But there she remained. Rush paced a groove into the stone floor, walking in circles until his legs tired, then sitting and staring out the window at airships coming and going.
His parents lodged in a guest room in the officers’ quarters, attending dinners with Captain Vance and various other officials. They learned much of the nation’s politics during these evening discussions and brought the information to Rush. They said the king, the court, and several advisers were locked in a fierce debate about how to deal with the rebels in the Pinnacles. With Arcia’s military prowess, it would be a small job to gather a fleet and stamp out a single underground hideaway. But the problem arose with the crew—no one wanted to visit the mountains. Reports from Vance’s voyage only fed the whispers wafting from house to house.
On the morning of the fifth day, brisk footsteps echoed down the corridor. Their pace spoke of urgency. Olive rubbed her eyes and sat up; Rush paused his thirty-fourth circle of the morning. A blue-coated captain came into view. The jailer accompanied him.
“Your trial commences today,” said Vance. “We must hurry.”
The jailer’s keys jingled in his hand as he parsed through them. He finally stuck one into the lock and the door swung open.
Rush mustered every drop of self-control to keep from darting right out of the cell and past Vance. His arms and legs jittered, his thoughts restless, his stomach churning. Yet he matched Vance’s pace as they ascended the stairs, Olive close behind.
He came astride the captain. “So they finally finished arguing about the rebels?”
Vance glanced at him. “After extensive debate, His Majesty determined we must attack and end the scourge on our country. He ordered the admirals to gather their bravest men and prevent a mass mutiny by whatever means necessary.”
Rush perked up. “They’re going to attack? Really?” If it weren’t for his impending punishment, he would have laughed. No more raids. No more fear. Hast and the dozens of other northern towns could live in peace for the first time in a generation. Olive, jogging up beside him, smiled as well.
A slight smile played on Vance’s lips. “A decision decades overdue. And now that it is done, the Court of Arbiters is attempting to catch up on their overdue cases by settling them all as quickly as possible. Hence, our necessity for speed.”
They retraced their path into the prison through endless marble halls. A last turn led them back into the lobby, out the oaken front doors, and across the courtyard. The posh officials and grand buildings passed in a muddle of worry. He only dimly noticed when they ascended the shallow steps to the court and entered its halls. Where would he spend that night? In a jail cell, rotting away for months or years? On the gallows? Or would he already be in an unmarked grave by the time the sun set? It would devastate his parents no matter what happened, and he knew he wouldn’t see them again for some time.
“Rush.”
His head shot up.
The captain looked down at him. “I see you have decided to rejoin us.”
Rows of chairs lined both sides of a wide, vaulted hall. People of all sorts occupied the seats; soldiers milled around between them. A tall door stood at the end, and an ancient man sat at a table beside it. “Are we here?” He turned around, then back to Vance. “Where’s Olive?”
“I sent her to the gallery. She should be in the spectator’s ring when it is your time.”
Rush swallowed. “And how long will it be until then?”
Vance gestured around them. “That all depends on how quickly our fellows here have their own cases resolved. However, this gives us time. The court has appointed me your lawyer and must instruct you on how to behave. Your words in that room could very well change everything about the remainder of your life.”
Rush slumped. “No pressure.” He sighed. Every possibility and worry and fear had tumbled through his head at least twenty times by then, and their weight dragged him down.
“Now, let us sit. Everything rests on our planning in these next minutes.”
The door swung open. A scowling man strode through, glaring at everyone who dared lay eyes upon him. A few soldiers inched closer as he swept past Vance and Rush, making his way to a turn in the corridor. The boy shrunk back.
The clerk at the table—who looked older than Arcia itself—called out, “Rush Cooper of Hast, the court summons you.” He had heard the routine announcement several times during the wait.
The captain’s speech halted, and he clenched his jaw. “It is time. Remember what I told you.”
Rush nodded. He wasn’t about to change one word of his script. Not with so much on the line.
They stood and paraded to a marble monster’s maw, toward the verdict that would change his life forever. A guard opened the door and ushered them through.
He faltered at the grandeur of the room before him. The ceiling towered over him and windows surrounded the round room. Light streamed in and fell on desks that circled a central dais like hungry vultures. Every head in the room turned to him; he shivered and stepped back. Vance touched his shoulder and nudged him forward. Rush inhaled deeply, straightened his back, and squared his shoulders. It was time to face what he had done.
He followed the path toward the dais, observers tracking his every move. Rows of seats for spectators lined both sides of the aisle. His parents and Olive were among those watching. Olive smiled. He smiled back. His palms sweated, and he rubbed them on his pants.
Rush mounted the three steps to the platform and planted himself in the center. Vance halted at the base of the stairs. Only then did he realize the floor displayed an Arcian compass rose—and he stood directly in the middle. Men in black robes sat at desks ringing the dais, so that no matter what way he faced, he couldn’t see them all. Again, he thought of vultures whirling over their prey. What did that make him?
One judge cleared his throat, donned spectacles, and rummaged through a stack of papers. “Rush Cooper of Hast, do you offer yourself to the discretion of this Court of Arbiters of the royal law?” The words came out flat and droning, like he too merely recited a script.
Rush wrung his hands. “I—I do.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, then withdrew them and clasped them behind his back.
The man’s gaze remained on the papers before him. “So be it, and may Almighty Providence guide our proceedings today.” He cleared his throat again and scooted the top sheet away. “Now, to the matter at hand. You are accused of thrice attempted desertion, attempted theft and destruction of His Majesty’s Ship the Embark, and general troublemaking. What is your plea?”
He bit his lip before shoving the words out. “Before this high and exalted court, I plead guilty on all accounts.” The memorized reply still tasted odd on his tongue. The terms too stiff, too formal. But Vance had forced him to repeat it until he could speak without stumbling.
The judge finally looked up from his papers and removed his glasses. His face betrayed no hint of emotion. “That should expedite things significantly.” He pushed the stack of documents aside. “Tell me, how old are you, Rush?”
Vance hadn’t prepared him for this. His heart jumped into his throat. “Four—fourteen. Your Honor. Sir.”
“Explain this. What would induce a fine, respectable boy of your age to turn traitor to his country?”
Rush opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His face warmed. How could he make these stone statues of judges understand? They probably hadn’t even left their chairs in years. What did they know of the world outside New Atlantis? “I…”
“Rebels attacked the boy’s town two months previously.” Rush spun to face Vance, who gestured toward him. The captain briefly recounted what Rush had told him during their late-night talk aboard the Embark, of how the turncoats had raided Hast and killed Lewis.
The judge looked Rush in the eyes. “Many before you have borne this tragedy. It is no justification for your proceeding activities.”
He nodded and lowered his head.
“At this time, the court will converse on a fitting punishment for the aforementioned deeds. Please exercise patience.” As if Rush could do anything else.
The judges spoke in a strange language, tossing unfamiliar words between each other like some children’s game of catch. He kept his head down, the elegant-sounding words flowing past, his own presence forgotten. Vance had explained this to him as well; Arcian officials used a long-forgotten tongue for private conversations. Even if they were overheard, the common people had forgotten the words’ meanings generations ago.
But as he shifted his weight back and forth in the center of the compass rose, he dearly wished he could understand them. Even peeks at their faces betrayed nothing of his fate—they remained as impassive as ever.
He leaned toward Vance and lowered his voice. “Is it supposed to take this long?”
Vance touched his mouth and shook his head. Quiet, he mouthed.
Finally, silence fell across the room. His face warmed. His stomach tied itself in knots. He wrung his hands behind his back while glancing at the judges. They nodded at each other and returned their eyes to Rush all at once. Swallowing, he focused on the man who had been speaking.
“The Court of Arbiters of the royal law has reached an agreement.” He dipped a quill in a jar of ink and scratched words on a loose paper while speaking. “Rush Cooper of Hast, deserter and saboteur, has been sentenced to six months of labor aboard a royal airship to repay his debt to the volantry. We hereby allocate him to the admirals for specific instructions and fulfillment of punishment.”
Rush’s legs turned to water as a thousand thoughts and feelings flooded through him. Relief; fear; dread. He would survive. But six months at sky, full of hard labor on an airship somewhere?
The judge interrupted his thoughts, resting the quill on its stand and meeting the boy’s gaze. “However, from this moment onward, you are bound by law to the volantry. Any further attempts at desertion will conclude with execution. Do you understand this?”
“Yes, sir. It won’t happen again.”
Something like a smile twitched the man’s mouth. “Good. It would truly be shameful to hang such courage from the gallows.” He took an iron ball from an indent on the desk and tapped it against the wood surface. “We concluded this session. Captain Hale will escort you to the admirals’ quarter for assignment.”
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