I threw the rest of my second drink back and closed my eyes.  No chronicler on the ship was bad news for sure.  Either a renegade crew, or something else.  Damn it, I came out here to get away from problems, and now here was one again.  Maybe I was cursed.

That seemed to be the consensus from the rest of the town, most of which was assembled at the various other tables.  Despite Saran's best efforts, there was a thick layer of chalk dust on the floor, and small puffs jumped into the air whenever someone set a drink down or stood and walked to the bar.  I licked my lips and made a face - the stuff got everywhere.  Maybe that was a side-effect of the curse.

"I'm a-wondrin' why they ain't got no chronicler, that's my question."

The man at the table to my right lifted his voice.  "Ain't right for a body to be out in the wilds with no pen and paper to note down what's a happenin'."

The woman next to him nodded, her goggles slipping slightly on her head.  "Aye, it's bad business.  But the Cockatrice ain't no renegade, she's a respectable bird.  And her crew ain't nothin' wrong neither.  They ain't flyin' without one for fun."

"An' whose authority do y' have that one on?"

"My own, Jac, and that's enough for y' I should hope."

He looked down.  "Aye, I warn't questionin' y' none, cap.  Just curious as to when y' knew em from."

I turned back to my glass and let my gaze rest on the few droplets left at the bottom of the glass.  Not renegades, then.  In part, that was a good thing - less likely to have anyone with some kind of outside authority pushing people around here.  Less likely someone would get wind of me.  But if it wasn't a renegade, then what -

"Io!  There y' are.  I believe y' be owin' me some questions answered."  Saran slid a wooden tankard toward me and I jerked my gaze away from the glass to catch it.  The liquid spilt slightly over the edge and I stared at it as it soaked into the table.  Green.  Saran glanced at me, then the table, and grinned.

"Y' get used to it soon enough.  's good stuff, the green liquor.  Gets y' drunk just like everything else, but no hangovers.  One of the things we worked out for ourselves out here."  He settled himself in his chair.  "If y' want somethin' else, I'm happy to be obligin'."

I took a tentative sip and couldn't help surprise creeping into my face.  It tasted like alcohol, but also of something else.

"Like bein' on a bird, ain't it?"  Saran grinned and something inside me clicked.  The drink tasted like wind.  He coughed and waved off a burst of dust from a neighbouring group.  "Now, there's my half of the bargainin'.  Where are y' from?"

"Not here."  I flicked my eyes around the rest of the room - nobody was paying us much attention.  Good.  I took a deep breath in.

"Well, an' I knew that.  Let me guess by y' accent."  He took a sip of his own drink, a green coating lingering on his top lip.  "One of th' cities, for sure.  Somewhere with a fair bit o' water, but also with a fair few ships seein' as y' know how to run an emergency landin'.  An' y' educated, as well, that's a fact.  Mayhaps... Trism?"

I tipped my head to the side.  "Something like that.  Same area."

"Well, y' keep y' mysterious origins to y'self then.  Let me ask an easier question of y', why on earth have y' come out here to Cliff's Edge?  Educated, knowin' bout how to land a bird, y' must be up to somethin'."

I'd practised for this, but I hadn't had to do it until now.  "Research project."

"Ah, so y' some high-falutin' academic then?"

"Hardly.  I'm the one that gets payed to go and find them samples.  Rocks, carcasses, whatever.  They're too lazy to get it themselves."  I watched Saran carefully - he seemed to be taking me at my word.

"An' here I was about t' give them a go at a good reputation.  Seems the rumours we hear ain't all wrong, the lazy bastards.  So what are y' lookin' for out here?"

I gestured at the powdery coating on the floor.  "For whatever reason, they're curious about your chalk.  Beats me as to why.  I'm supposed to watch how it distributes before I move on.  Who knows, they might get me to watch water dripping next."

Saran chuckled and I relaxed slightly.  He'd bought the story.

"Aye, an' I wouldn't be surprised at that.  Strange in the head, they are."

I nodded.  "Anyhow, what's happened with the ship?  I overheard someone - the Cockatrice, that her name?"

Saran nodded.  "That's her.  She's not too uncommon around these parts, runs the outskirts lookin' for things.   Gets a fair bit of her paycheck from academics too, like y'self.  Mayhaps y'  both are workin' on the same job?"

Shit.  Someone actually did what I was pretending to be here for.  I'd chosen the cover specifically because the colleges weren't interested in stuff this far out of the way.  "I certainly hope not.  It looked like bad business."

"Aye, it is."  Saran glanced around at the bar, eyes lingering on a table that was getting a bit louder.  "The crew's in a bad way, an' they're missin' a chronicler.  Or a chronicle."

I stiffened to stop a shiver running through me.  That was worse than wrong, that was.  Well.

"Unnatural, ain't it."  Saran had turned back towards me.  "I don't know what met them out there, all I could work out was that the chronicler met somethin' bad.  Proper bad news."  He swigged the last of his drink, then set the tankard down on the table.  "Now, y' a research assistant, or so y' say, but most of those are somethin' a little different as well, ain't they.  What did y' do first of all?"

I took a drink myself to cover my surprise.  Saran was right, most research assistants were primarily something else, but I hadn't counted on anyone asking.  "A bit of most things, here and there."

"Ah, come off it."  Saran leaned in closer.  "I won't be goin' tellin' nobody, my lips are sealed.  An' no judgement, neither - plenty of good folks in bad situations who will have done worse."

What did I do.  Shit, if I waited too long, he'd figure something was up.  "Well, I started out as a waterhand, then did a few other odd jobs - " I grunted as someone bumped into me, the impact jolting my tunic and pulling it down my arm.  I saw the flash of my pin in the window as Saran's eyes widened.

"A chronicler, then?  I was expectin' somethin' much less respectable.   Why ain't y' told me that in the first place?"

"I wasn't looking for chronicling work."  I could salvage this.  The best lies had a grain of truth in them, after all.  "Finished my last assignment and wanted a change for a bit.  Plus, my last contract had wrapped up, and they weren't looking hard where I was at the time for new chroniclers."

Saran frowned.  "Mayhaps they should send some more of y' out of the cities.  Near enough every ship out here with a chronicler 'as had the same body for the job for the last twenty years, or close enough.  They're due a break."

"If it's a good ship, and interesting enough, they won't be minding too badly.  You can do a lot worse."

Saran raised an eyebrow.  "Personal experience there?  Mysterious Io got out of a bad ship?"

"Something like that.  Nothing I'd speak about here though."  I drained the last of my drink.  "And I think you'd owe me another drink first."

Saran laughed.  "Y' drive a hard bargain, but I'll see what I can do.  Mayhaps tomorrow, I'd best be gettin' back to sortin' out the rest of this lot."  Almost on cue, someone yelled out for a refill and Saran gave me a brief smile as he stood.  I sat back in my chair and let out a low sigh.  That was close.  Too close.

I had to stop myself taking a deep breath of chalk dust as I left the tavern.  Saran was right, things were getting busier in there, and it was best for me to leave before people started wondering exactly why he'd been so interested in me.  I glanced around.  Nobody was out at this time of day, just before the sun fell, and I was feeling curious.  A little walk wouldn't hurt.  Even though I'd been in Cliff's Edge for a few days, I still only really knew where a few things were.  Left, then, and clockwise around the rest of the town.  There really wasn't much of it.

I kicked a stone absent-mindedly and tracked my eyes along the sides of the various buildings I was passing.  House, house, shed - nothing of use.  Perhaps at the end of the day the only interesting things in the place were those that I knew the location of - the tavern, the landing tower, the water barrels, and the watermaster's office.  I grinned.  You could describe just about every place outside one of the major cities like that.  My face quickly fell into a frown.  Saran had been a bit too inquisitive today, even though he didn't mean any harm.  Well, I was pretty sure he didn't - it's not like anyone who would be interested in causing me trouble knew I was out here.  I'd made sure of that.

But still... I'd have to be more careful.  Maybe tonight I would work on my cover story a bit more, give it some more depth.  At least I could be a bit more open now, considering Saran knew I was a chronicler.  I could bring some more real answers in to build up the lies.  It felt weird to put it that way.  I wasn't used to lying.  Part of what got me into this mess in the first place.

A sharp rock poked through the sole of my boot and I winced, placing the foot down gingerly and then moving on.  What else would I have to be careful of?  The crew of the Cockatrice, I supposed, if they ever woke up.  Odds are they wouldn't care about me, they'd have their own problems to worry about.  I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with the whole situation.  You don't just lose a Chronicler.  Most ships would sacrifice just about everything - and sometimes everyone - else first.  Not only did we keep the records of the voyage, and the property, and discoveries, but we held everyone's letters, their wills, the legacy for their families that they wanted to leave behind.  Losing that was effectively dying anyway.  Something must have hit them pretty badly if it went that wrong.  And out here, who knew what that could be?  Closer to the cities, it would be bandits - out here, it could be dragons.  Hah.  Yeah, right, dragons.

I paused by the watertower to catch my breath.  The structure towered over most of the other buildings, save only the landing ground in the distance.  Its rusty legs creaked in the wind and I took a step back.  There'd been more than a few tales about these things falling over, specially in places which couldn't maintain them well.  And if I'd ever seen such a town, it was Cliff's Edge.  I shook my head and started off again.

At least the place was out of the way - if anyone came here, they'd have to be actively looking for me.  And I didn't think I'd managed to make enemies that bad, yet.  I turned into the street the tavern was on and squared my shoulders.  Sleep.  It wasn't good for me to think about this all too much.

Another bell rang, and my eyes flew open.  Surely - no, that wasn't a ship's bell.  Too high.  I tweaked the curtain across, then sighed as I saw the layer of dust on the outside of the windows.  Time to get dressed then.

"Mornin' then, Io.  Take it y' hear the bell?"

The thing was still going.  I raised an eyebrow.  "It'd be difficult not to, I think."

Saran quirked a lip.  "Aye, an' that's the point o' it.  Crier likes to be heard when she's got somethin' to say."

Of course.  Places out here still had criers, they were still small enough.  "What's she got for us today then?"

Saran shrugged.  "That's somethin' I can't tell y'.  Watermaster'd know, or the crier 'erself.  Might be worth goin' to have a look in the square.  Can I get y' anythin' for a meal?"

I shook my head, ignoring the grumble of protest in my stomach.  "Not yet.  Best to hear bad news on an empty stomach."

"Suit y'self."  Saran returned to polishing a glass.  "I'll be headin' out in a minute or few meself, I'll see y' there I'd wager.  Less yer less curious than I'd made y' out to be."

I was already on my way out the door.  If there was one thing I needed to keep up with in this godforsaken place, it was the local gossip and news.  If anything would give me early warning of someone looking for me, that would be it.  Mind you, it might also be nothing.  I slid in behind a group of people discussing something, huddled close together against the breeze.  The chalk wasn't as bad today, something to do with less wind.  I pulled out a notebook and pretended to write something down in it - last night I'd decided that if I was to try and pass myself off as researching the stuff, I should probably have something to show for it.  I closed it as I nearly stumbled into the side of a building, then straightened my headscarf and turned into the town square.  The crier was sitting beside a bell tower, barely half as tall as me.  A creak came from the bottom as a stronger gust of wind whistled in and I glanced at it - wheels.  That's why I hadn't seen it before, then, they moved it around.  I supposed it made sense, considering the profession of a crier.

The crier stood, her hair loose out of her headscarf, chalk coating the ends more than it did the rest of it.  Some kind of treatment on it, I assumed - maybe I should get something similar.  The bell ceased as the last dregs of the townspeople filed into the square, Saran among them at the back.  She cleared her throat.

"Hear ye, hear ye.  The Watermaster calls y' to the square for a discussionin' on the Cockatrice what landed here yesterday.  There's t' be some words on the whole sorry event for y', and some tasks."

The Watermaster rose to the stand beside the crier.  "Thank y', Lisbet."

I'd seen the Watermaster before, of course - moving around town, keeping an eye on the water tower and how much people were drawing from it.  And at the crash.  She wasn't exactly a hidden figure around the town, and nor should she be - the best watermasters were those who kept in close contact with a community, especially in a place this small. Her purple headscarf fluttered around the edges of her mouth as she pulled it down, her voice issuing much more clearly.  "I won't take too much of y' time.  I'm sure y'all have tasks to be doin' on such a low chalk mornin'.  But there's things what need to be said, and it's my job to do the sayin' of them."  She clapped her hands together.  "Y'all know that the Cockatrice took a landin' hard yesterday, and that the crew ain't in such good shape.  The good news first - the doc tells me they'll mend.  We ain't got no sailor's ghosts on our hands this day."

A collective sigh went around the crowd, almost as though the air itself was relieved.  I hid a snort.  Some superstitions were wise, but this one?  Sailor's ghosts were a myth.

"Now, t' the real reason I wanted to talk to y'all.  The story they've come in with is far-fetched, but they've sworn like blue skies in the stormwild that it's true, and I won't be hearin' nothin' against em for what they're tellin'.  They're good bodies, these ones, an' that's a fact."

It suddenly clicked that the watermaster's accent was different to the rest of the town.  A little less of a twang than everyone else.  I frowned.  Watermasters typically grew up in the place they ended up working, unless they founded a new town.  So why hadn't she?

"The cap'n, their name's Jay for y' who don't know 'em, they've been the only one what recovered enough to give me some straight words.  Now they said they don't know what hit 'em.  Fair winds the whole way, standard lil' jaunt to be findin' a new water well or two.  Landed one mornin', after seein' some nice promisin' lines in the soil, an' the next thing they know, they're half up in the air, one engine gone, blood on the decks and no crew members fit to walk more'n a mile."

The crowd murmured and she raised her voice.  "Worse, they lost the chronicler.  An' he was carryin' their chronicle at the time.  We've got the records for the period up to a day before whatever happened, as best as I can piece together, but nothing past it.  Now if any of y' knew Lars, I'm sure sorry for y', and y' take the time y' need.  He was a good man, and it's not a good fate he's met."

She paused, and I saw her knuckles whiten at her sides.  "Now, I couldn't get much more out of the rest of the crew, but one of 'em said skydust, an' the other one said dragons.  I want it known that they're still not quite full healed, an' they might not have their senses back yet."

If she hadn't been so serious, I would have laughed outright. The two things that everybody searched for and nobody found.

"So there's somethin' off, that's the truth of it.  The cap'n wants to be headin' back out soon as they're healed to get on the trail and see if they can find what hit them, but they'll be needin' a chronicler first.  An' that's what I've been asked to put forward.  Anybody goin' for their chronicler's license, or knows somebody what's lookin' for a job in that area, now's y' chance to get in on a ship."

Any chatter that was in the crowd had gone silent.  A few people glanced at each other.  I shrank back into myself, wrapping my headscarf tighter.  The last thing I needed was to jump on another ship.  Although - nobody would look for me on a ship full of crazies leaving the last town I could find on a map.

"Aye, Shenna, we've got a visitor in town.  Io's got th' chronicler's badge.  If they're amenable to the task, an' the crew takes 'em."

I cursed inwardly at Saran.  I could refuse, but then I'd be damned to a bad reputation around here for the rest of the month, at least.  And small towns held big grudges.  The watermaster - Shenna - peered over at me.

"That the way of it then?  Aye, well y'd be doin' nicely Io, if y' chose to join 'em.  Why don't y' come up here and have a yarn.  Nobody else wants to be puttin' no one forward?"

Most of the crowd was preoccupied eyeing me up and down. I'd managed to be fairly inconspicuous for the few days I'd stayed here - most of them didn't know I existed.  I sighed.

"Good!  Io, then, I'll meet y' in the office.  I trust y' know where to find me.  Now git, the lot of y', and no ghosts be findin' y' this mornin'."