Thistle in the Sky | #NONC2022 | ✔

Chapter One

Farah was deep in the Ariomma's hold in search of patching supplies when her brother spotted another airship on the horizon. She felt his shout long before the news reached the rest of the crew—Kazem was the only person whose thoughts could still find her at such a distance, let alone with such clarity. The Ariomma's watchpost was on top of the ship, and two decks lay between them, not to mention the entire depth of the zeppelin's envelope and gasbags. If nothing else reinforced whispers about magic between twins, this did.

The crew's audible clamor was quick to follow the warning. Abandoning her search, Farah dodged the captain and snuck back upstairs. Observation decks flanked the Ariomma's living quarters. Here, banks of clear panels made windows through the airship's skin, albeit ones angled near-directly downwards. Farah dropped to her elbows to peer outside through one of these. It took her a moment to identify the shadow of the other ship in the distance. It was only a smudge, its shape distorted by a towering column of water. Farah moved down the line of windows in search of a better view, and found none.

The other ship moved too erratically to be another trading vessel avoiding the storms over the continent. No trader took pains to circle each of the water columns and sky-pools of the Tideless like this one did: like it had lost its way through sheer incompetence, or was simply enjoying the view. Downstairs, the Ariomma's captain called an order to hail the vessel. It must have spotted them already. Farah sifted through the web of her crewmates' thoughts to find Gemi, the young woman in the radio room. Her mind was a hive of nerves. Farah could tell she recognized the approaching ship, but not by name; she had no idea who would pick up at the other end as she made the first radio call in an attempt to reach the vessel.

The call went through. Words flashed through Gemi's mind: likely the ones she was speaking, as she constructed her message from radio jargon and reminded herself to sound self-assured.

ZF 161 Ariomma to unknown vessel. Please identify yourself. Over.

Farah would pay in gold to extend her ability into hearing what another person heard. She held her focus on Gemi as the young woman processed whatever answer she'd received. A name leaped out as she recognized it. Nectamia. A search-and-rescue vessel operated out of the Colony, the richest city on the continent. Farah bolted off her elbows and stood rigid, both hands on the windowsill. The Colony only dispatched search vessels when a delivery it cared about went missing. Few ships fell into that category.

ZF 161 Ariomma to ZC 22 Nectamia. Clearance to approach. We come in peace. Over.

Farah projected her mental net out into the Tideless. She fished for the thoughts of people on board the Nectamia, but it was too far away still: they buzzed just out of her reach. Withdrawing, she skimmed over the rest of the Ariomma's crew to find her brother instead. Her breath hissed. Kazem was down by the gangway, fretting about diplomacy. The idiot had volunteered to meet the other ship. Of course he had. He had no sense of self-preservation.

Farah's hands snapped into fists as she wrenched back from the window. She tossed her long braid over her shoulder and strode towards the bow of the ship, chest tight with frustration and something she refused to call worry. This would be so much easier if Kazem were also a telepath. She would be able to find and admonish him for putting himself in danger without the need to abandon her post.

The additional thought-barrier of the Ariomma's inner walls set Farah's skin crawling the way a loss of sensation in her fingers would. She sped up, taking a shortcut through the galley and leaping down the stairs to the lower deck. She was one corridor from the Ariomma's front entrance when someone stepped out to block her path.