The end of the boardwalk opened up onto an expanse of modified islands and water the size of a small city. Docks crowded every flat surface: docks of wood and earth, plank and log, riveted metal and tight-packed reed. Floating logs made walkways between them. Nimble dockhands skipped across these in every direction and at every pace, their steps sure and their brown skin darkened to rich earthen tones by the sun. The soaring, lichen-spangled pillars of mooring masts sank their roots into the brackish water, itself a murky green so opaque it reflected the clouds.

With the sun just high enough to light the masts properly, traffic in the port was sleepy. Women on a plump houseship heckled a mechanic over something to do with an engine, and an ant-like line of workers shuttled crates from a mail carrier to a freighter that would take them inland. The large, gilded ship of what must have been a maharaja was parked alone in a corner of the port. Its gondola had been replaced with the replica hull of a carrack, made entirely of balsa wood and styled almost beyond recognition. A pearlescent sheen on its envelope gave it away as Skydragon skin, a rarity now that Skydragons had been hunted to extinction for exactly this reason. It must have cost a fortune.

Rav dragged his eyes from the spectacle. He had to find his new employer, and fast. Already he could see the specks of incoming airships in the blue dome of the sky. Once those landed, mayhem would massacre his chances of finding the right captain. He followed the snoring mechanic from the ferry across logs and docks, then through the trees of an island to the spectacular mooring mast on the other side.

He emerged into shadow. Overhead loomed the great, scarred fabric envelope of an airship bigger than his uncle's estate. It was so long, he could have walked for minutes and not travelled it end to end. Its propeller blades were arranged in wheels two stories tall, and coal buckets crept up towards its belly through a webbing of ropes so thick it looked like a waterfall.

Rav searched for its name. Ocean liners did not paint them on their envelopes in the latest fashion: long days at sea would quickly erode paint or dye to an unaesthetic smudge. Rav jogged until he could see the sunlit side of the gondola, and squinted at the scrolling black lettering.

March of the Elephants

No. No, that wasn't the one he was looking for. Fear, hot and sweet, nibbled deeper into Rav's chest. He was supposed to be getting on an ocean-going ship. He had not seen another vessel large enough to fit that description. What if it had left without him? What if he had gotten the day wrong and come too late? But Father had bought him the ticket to the ferry dock on the mainland. If that had been wrong, this at least wouldn't be his fault.

Rav tapped a nearby worker with a shaking hand. "Excuse me? I'm looking for Dreamcatcher."

Pity softened the lines of the man's face. Rav's heart plummeted. The ship was gone. He'd taken the most basic instructions and still failed Father.

"She's over there, son." The dockhand turned Rav around and pointed back the way he had come. "But I wouldn't wake the captain; just catch him when he shows his face."

Rav stumbled off in too much of a daze to remember to thank him. His neck kinked from scanning the docks. Had he remembered wrong? No, Dreamcatcher was an ocean traveler; that much he knew. It was the only ship on the continent that had been to every nook of the sky that nobody else would travel to. Father had thought it a good choice for toughening up his youngest son.

The weight of the years leading up to this apprenticeship built like the air's thickening morning humidity, suffocating him. A bird's chirp brought him back to flight school, mocked for not wanting to pitch a bird's nest he found on his ship into the ocean. An engineer's papers turned the scene to his private lessons. A map in a navigator's hands was too painful to look at, a keen reminder of subpar grades in math and perfect ones in world geography.

Now he was back in the shadows behind the family room door the evening his tutor suggested a prestigious botanical academy to Father, and Father calmly ended his employment. The new tutor pressed hard on math, physics, and navigation, and never let Rav touch more than a wind map again. He had told Mother, but she just hugged him. Then she went to her room. That night, he heard her crying.

Rav found himself back by the boardwalk with airships and the world all closing down on him. Maybe he should just catch the ferry home. Then at least this would be over. Father would disown him, the pressure to find an acceptable job and take a wife and raise a family would go away, and he would be free to live his own life. To do what he loved, and stay alone like he wanted to. Not just until a marrying age. Maybe forever.

"You lost, boy?"

Rav startled like a scared bird. It was another dockhand, this time one he recognized from the ferry.

"I'm looking for Dreamcatcher."

The man let out a guffaw that nearly made Rav wet his pants. "Adil! Adil! Dreamcatcher's got a new cabin boy."

A scrawny man with a mischievous grin sauntered over. "Already? How long you think this one'll last?"

They looked at Rav together like he was a plucked chicken in the marketplace.

"Dunno," said the first man. "He looks kind of skinny to me. Might be able to survive if he jumped ship."

"The last skinny one wasted away to nothing. Never seen a kid so stressed, poor thing."

"Go home, boy. You'll be better off that way."

He was right. He had to be. Rav turned and started back towards the ferry. He was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, hey," said Adil. "Where are you going?"

"He told me to go home," mumbled Rav.

Adil looked astonished. "Boy, you can't just do whatever anyone tells you to! Do you make your own decisions?"

Rav shrank down even smaller. Both men stood a head taller than he did, and loomed in silence until Adil finally sighed.

"The captain's up, boy; you should go. Rest in peace and I hope you land somewhere pleasant if you have to jump. I wouldn't touch that cursed thing with a league of balsa, so I admire your courage."

He tipped his chin on "cursed thing," and Rav followed the motion. There was only one ship in that corner of the port.

"Rich as weddings and cursed as disease," muttered the first man. They turned and left Rav alone on the dock.

A knotted, silken rope ladder hung down from the maharaja ship. Near its base, a very short, very burly, completely bald man who was definitely not a maharaja was deep in conversation with a woman in a sari the colour of the tropical ocean. The man spoke with the grand gestures of a stage performer, not mirrored by his counterpart. Rav waited quietly until they wrapped up the exchange with a bag of coins. The woman turned gracefully, and Rav caught a glimpse of a deep disgust that flickered over her smile as she strode away.

The bald man squinted at Rav. "You the new hire?"

He had an accent, but it was from nowhere and everywhere—from all over the world. With his dark skin and hooded eyes, it made his home country impossible to determine. Rav nodded.

The man jerked a thumb at the ship. "Get on board. We're leaving as soon as the crew finishes maintenance checks."

Rav scrambled up the ladder. The cough, creak and bang of warming engines smoothed into a rhythmic chugging more felt than heard through the boards beneath his feet. Rav extracted a small comfort from the sound. His heart jolted as the ship did.

The captain swung himself over the edge of the doorway. "Haul up the ladder, boy. Make yourself useful. We don't have the lift to carry dead weight." He strode off, shouting, "Manish? Is our pressure alright?"

Years of training kicked into gear. The familiarity was soothing after the uncertainty of the docks, whether Rav wanted to be here or not. He knew airships. Before takeoff, there was coal to be loaded, engines to be oiled, lines to be checked, and a rudder and envelope to be carefully inspected for leaks. There was cargo to be loaded and balanced in the hold, and a sky to be scanned for gaps for safe takeoff. He could do all of those things.

Rav walked to the doorway and froze with his hand on the rubber-trimmed door. Already the ground had sunk to twenty meters below, so smoothly he had not realized its departure. The crew had already prepared the ship. They were leaving. They were in the air.

Until they reached their destination, he had no more way to get back to the ground alive.