Bram Möller's Arc

Chapter 40 of 63

Bram carried the ledger book back to the harbormaster's counter with the indenture notice folded inside it. The stamp lay on the blotter, untouched. The harbormaster set both palms flat on the wood and would not meet Bram's eyes. "I can't seal your arrival yet," he said. "There's a complaint on file. Reckless approach. Endangering the harbor." "From who?" "The second bag in. He signed a statement ten minutes ago." Bram looked out the window. Kesh stood on the field beside his dark envelope, arms crossed, watching the office. Without the stamp, Bram's lead meant nothing. The circuit board would read them as tied, or worse, read Kesh ahead once the complaint went up the line. Omondi came in from the field brushing snow off his coat. He caught a boot on the door sill and steadied himself against the counter. "What's the delay?" "Kesh filed on the saddle cut," Bram said. "Says I flew reckless." Omondi pushed his glasses up. "We have witness statements filed at every harbor between here and Hollowpass. Your north route flight is on record." "Different run," the harbormaster said. "This is today's complaint. I need today's proof." Bram opened his jacket and set the worn journal on the counter. He turned to the southern pages and pressed the spine flat. The ink cross sat on the saddle notation, north-wind clean, crosswind unsafe. Beside it, in his own hand years old, a bearing and a wind rule. "Today's wind," he said. "Read it off the mast." The harbormaster glanced at the pennant outside. "North, steady." "Then the saddle was legal. My journal shows the rule I flew by. Written before this morning. Before Kesh." Vex came through the door then, red hair wet, a folded sheet in her fist. She had ridden in on a tender an hour behind them, chasing the bid paperwork Bram had left unfinished at the depot. She dropped the sheet on the counter without slowing. "Hawk log from the depot," she said. "His girl sent a scout ahead of the cut. Reading came back clean. Time-stamped." Cora stepped up beside her and set the mechanical owl on the counter. She popped a small brass plate on its chest and slid out a slip of paper. The saddle reading, dated, initialed. The harbormaster took it between two fingers. He read the journal. He read the hawk log. He read the owl's slip. Then he inked the stamp and brought it down on Bram's line. The sound carried across the office. "Complaint noted and dismissed," he said. "Lead's yours." Bram folded the indenture notice out of the ledger book and put it in his pocket. Cora watched him do it. Through the window, Kesh was already walking back to his envelope, and the harbormaster was reaching for a second form, the one that logged a false complaint against a pilot's name.