Driftmetal by J.C. Staudt Page B

“Pirates. What is a pirate,
really? You’ve never stolen anything in your life? You might
be a pirate, for all I know.”
    “If having stolen something were the only criterion,
most people would be pirates. You, especially.”
    “I beg your pardon,” I said. “I prefer to think of
myself as a commodities appropriation and merchandising
specialist.”
    “Isn’t that the same thing?”
    I shook my head. “Pirates steal for glory and
adventure. I steal for no reason at all, and regardless of whether
it’s necessary.”
    Vilaris rolled his eyes.
    We approached the elevators that would take us up to
Eulaya. A squad of green-clad customs officers stood by, processing
the tourists, merchants, and cargo shipments that were coming and
going. The narrow canyon was filled with them; crowds of people and
their wagons and carts carrying all manner of trade goods and
supplies. We waited in what passed for a line while the sun began
to throw rays of pink and orange across the clouds. Soon one of the
officers, a tall thin man in a stiff green suit, stepped toward us
with a clipboard and pen in his hands.
    “Welcome to Mallentis, gentlemen,” said the man.
“Are you citizens or visitors?”
    “We’re all citizens of the world, aren’t we, my good
man,” I said. “Say, how tall are these cliffs, here?”
    “On this side, close to three-hundred feet. On the
Hibantya side, a little over two-hundred. Now—”
    “The easier for the haves to look down on the
have-nots, eh? Which side do you live on? You’re a Hibantyan, I’ll
bet.”
    “That’s right. Now, sir, I need—”
    “I knew it. A man of the people. I figured on that
the second I saw you. What’s your name, old chap?”
    “Andrew Partridge,” was all I gave the officer time
to say.
    “Andrew… Hal Nordstrom.” I took Andrew’s clipboard
and shook the hand that had been holding it. “Pleased to meet you.
Heavens bless men like you, who work so hard to keep this place
organized and on the level for the upstanding businessmen of the
world. Thank you so very much for your service. Say, we’re
in need of a little help. Would you be so kind?”
    “Certainly, but first—”
    I handed him the clipboard without stopping to take
a breath. “We’ll be wanting a quick bite and some rousing
conversation. Do you know a place that can offer us both? Cost is
no object. My friend here is a moneyed man.” I prodded Vilaris with
an elbow. “Not a working stiff like you and me. Truth be told, I
can’t stand the fellow. Wretched man. Wouldn’t know a hard day’s
work if it slapped him in the face. Look at him. Can’t you see it
in the way he carries himself? He puts on airs, what with the
shaggy beard and unwashed appearance. And yet, do you see how new
these clothes are? Exactly the way a wealthy man would disguise himself. Any suggestions for a lively place where this
deplorable creature and I might dine this evening, Andrew, old
friend?”
    “There’s the Crescent Restaurant, The Hart’s
Antlers, and the Cliffline Resort. Those are where I’d go if money
were no object. But sir, please—”
    “That’s very kind of you, Andrew. Now don’t misjudge
me: I myself am guilty of having come into a little extra coin
every now and then, but every chip of it is thanks to a generous
helping of hard, honest work. If we weren’t only passing through
for the night to pick up a few supplies for the voyage home, and
you weren’t otherwise engaged, I’d offer to take you with us in
thanks for your dedication to the safety of Mallentis. That’ll have
to wait for next time, however. We’ll be sure to call on you when
we’re in town again. You can show us the sights, and we’ll show you
a good time. How does that sound?” I turned to Vilaris. “Be sure to
give Andrew here a generous tip, will you, you wealthy son of a
gun?”
    I began to move past Andrew toward the elevators. He
had been scribbling on his clipboard as I talked.
    “Uh, sir… Hal. Mr. Nordstrom,”