Bram Möller's Arc

Chapter 37 of 63

By mid-morning the field crews were already whispering about the girl in Bram's loft. Omondi found him at the tender with a wrench in his good hand and worry in his face. "A clockmaker asked at the gate an hour ago. Older man. Leather apron. He named her." Bram set the wrench down. "How long?" "He is walking the district first. He will reach the depot before dusk. If he files a claim on her indenture, the master strikes her name. Your sheet goes with it." Cora sat cross-legged inside the courier bag's shadow, tightening a screw on the owl's leg. She had heard. Her hands did not stop. "He'll bring the papers. He always brings the papers." "Then we launch before he gets here," Bram said. "Rules say the crew must sign the log at the launch counter in person," Omondi said. "Both of us. Together. If we leave the field before the log is stamped, the bid voids the same way." Bram opened his route journal on the crate. The pages were soft at the edges from years of weather. He ran a finger down the winter schedule and found the launch window. Two hours from now. The clockmaker would still be three towns off at that mark, if Omondi's count was right. "We move the launch up," Bram said. "Fuel now. Log stamp at noon. Wheels up ten minutes after." Omondi pushed his glasses up. "The master will not stamp early without cause." Bram thought of the witness statements filed at every harbor between here and Hollowpass. One name on those pages carried weight the depot could not argue with. He walked to the office and asked the clerk to send a hawk to the waystation. The message was four words. Come sign for her. Wendell Frost arrived by tender ninety minutes later, ducking under the doorframe, red coat buttoned wrong. Pilots at the counter went quiet. He was not a man they knew how to read. He set a broad white hand on the log and looked at the master. "I stand for the girl," he said. "Second guardian. My mark beside her name until her indenture is heard by a proper clerk, not a runner with a grudge." The master studied him, then the co-signed witness pages Wendell laid down beside the log. He stamped the sheet. Bram brought Cora out to the field. She carried the owl against her ribs. Omondi was already at the mooring line. The bag stood full and steady above them. "He'll still come," Cora said. "He'll come to a stamped log and a witness of record," Bram said. "That's a court fight, not a claim. We'll be three harbors out by then." He climbed in. Omondi cut the line. The field dropped away, and the winter circuit opened ahead of them, still unwon.