Excerpt: 499

Elianna waited nervously for the gillmasters to open the passage way into the giant fish-ship. The passage over the Atlantic was always slightly worrying, even in something so stable. She took the first step onto the slightly squidjy surface, feeling her sharkskin slippers sink in a little bit. Steadying herself against the wall, she made her way down the narrow passages into the swim bladder, where she had her pick of the seats that had been grown out of the organ walls. It was dry in here, at least, and full of oxygen. The were so big that there was room for fifty in each passenger ready, and then the others were pumped full of hydrogen gas. They would float into the sky, being steeered by flocks of other flying fish as handled by the navigators.

Elianna Hannah Etherwood had been across the Atlantic this way several times, and each time was easier than the last, but the worry never entirely disappeared. She hoped dearly that this time would be as safe as the others, although her studies of Probability Affectation showed her that the more she hoped for that, the less likely it would be- especially if she voiced that worry out loud. She had not.

So She sat in silence, clutching her parasol, as a few more passengers drifted in- a man in the greasy, scaly trousers of a fish wrangler, and another one in a hide suit of the latest fashion. His tie glittered faintly with fish scales- certainly expensive. She shifted her patched gloves and hoped nobody would notice. At least the light was dim.

Going back to America was not her favourite plan. She had wished to stay in Cambridge longer, studying with Doctor Hatrackoulous-Blimbindri, but with her mother's death- at the hands, er, jaws of a swordfish- rendered it necessary for her to return posthaste to the colonies. At least she could avoid the Tunated States of America and simply go to Carpanada. Last time, she had tried going to Harvard, and it had been a disaster. They simply did not understand her quiet manners and rock-solid opinions there. Once she'd been forced to stab someone with the saw-toothed end of her whale bone parasol, she knew she had to move on. That had been the last time she'd returned to England.

Her mother had gone off to Carpanada the next year, claiming that Elianna was driving her mad, which Elianna was sure was impossible. After all, madness was caused by chemicals in the brain, not by constatntly arguing with your daughter. Everyone knew that.

But move to Canada she had insisted on doing, and she had paid the price. Everyone knew that swordfish didn't leap out of calm domestic rivers to swallow faces like they appparently did in Carpanada. It was wild there. You couldn't trust anything.

She reached into her handbag and slipped a few flakes of fish food into the fish's mouth. It didn't do to let your accessories go hungry. Of course, live accessories were still rare, but having them was either a sign of money, or of knowing a good icthyologist, a class that was rapidly rising in prestige. Nearly half the students at Oxford and Cambridge studied icthyology now that they'd learned how to alter the fish to become anything they wanted.

There were fish cleaning the streets, wipiing up the detritus of every day living. There were fish in the sky, glowing like lamps at night, ferrying people from place to place, doing nearly anything you could imagine. Fish stored things, kept money, kept track of your money... it just depended on how talented the icthyologist owas.

Most of them were hacks, of course. But Elianna was friends with Myrtle Evernard, the pioneer of the field. Her fish were the best and fastest breeding, most versatile. And of course, Elianna got to try them for free. She didn't try to rub it in everyone's face, but it was hard, when everything you owned was just better.

She leaned back against the wall and watched th seats fill up. An equal amount of men and women, and one woman dressed like a man- a mild scandal, but nothing terribly important. She felt comfortable. Her first crossing had been with solely men and she had been worried they might see an ankle the entire time. And her hat had had a devilish time sticking to hr head.

It was so easy to be loose on these crossings. She had seen amazing things- women taking off their gloves, even itheir hair coming down. Men would take off jackets and shirt cuffs. Such debauchery was not really her style. She preferred some measure of class. It was important.

She could be assured that she was virtuous. Sleeping on the crossing would be dangerous. She had seen a man lifting up a lady's skirts and had been forced to be quite strn with him- he liekly still had scars. She sat primly, hands on the bone handle, carved with smaller bones. It was very suitable for her, she thought.

But she was enjoying it. she always did. Even over top of her continued worry for the fish itself. After all, if it died in the middle of the Atlantic, they would all be horribly drowned.|

But it would not happen. The captain of this fish was a very fine fish captain. His fish handling skills had earned him several prizes from the fish association. He hadn't even squelched a mudskipper since he had joined the fish corps. Elinana felt very lucky to have him be the one guiding their fish.

The fish bounced slightly nd then they could feel it floating off intot he air, the short chirrups and calls of the fish handlers coming through the rubbery, fleshy walls in a muffled sort of way. She smiled at the sound, listning to them. Everyone knew whales had their own clals, but surely the sounds of the fish handlers were nearly as diverse. They weren't very good at trianing fish to use them yet, though.

It would come in time. She had faith.

Tim seemed to go nowhere in that shadowy fishy chamber. It drifted on and drifted on, only lit very dimly by a few glowfish that the passengers fed out of their own bags. After all, nobody wanted to be in the dark. The woman dressed as a man seemed to have a surfeit of fish food. Perhaps she was a fish smuggler, which would explain her odd clothing. Perhaps not, though. Perhaps she was merely an icthyologist or fish doctor. It could be hard to reassemble fish when you were wearing sixteen petticoats and a hoop skirt, as Elianna alwayas did. She believed in being perfectly correct at all times, and as sixteen was half her age, that was the number of skirts she wore.

She kept herself bolt upright, until suddenly the fish stopped and swayed. A small fish finned frantically into the room, speaking with the captain's voice. “We've run into a small problem. Please stay calm and in your seats or you may unbalance the fish and that would be quite naughty. Please stay in your seats.”

Elianna was good at obeying authority when it seemed like the sensible thing to do. In this case, it very much did. She did not wish to capsizze the fish at all- it was hard to get them back upright and often they died. Being in a dead fish sounded like liess enjoyment and travel veolicity than being in a live fish.

She sighed and watched as everyone else rustled and murmured, wondring what in heaven's name could be wrong. Perhaps they'd met a pack of fish predators, or they were being attacked by a pirate fish fleet. She didn't know, probably no one did.

It was a tiring wait, there in the bladder of the fish. She was almost tempted to sleep, but with men all around her- and a woman dressed as a man- she certainly didn't feel safe enough. After all, what sort of woman would be so silly? Men couldn't be trusted. Everyone knew that. It was one thing she and hr mother agreed upon, after they had been cruelly heartlessly tragically abandoned by her wastrel of a father and then her scum of a step father and her twit of a mother's 'friend'.

It would be quite horrific to wake up and find someone peeking under her hem at her ankles, or playin gwith her hair. So she stayed awake, evn as the fish started to rock back and forth slowly. She hoped it wasn't the prelude to a capsiz, but only perhaps the fish trying to move forward.

Then something banged into the wall with a fleshy thump next to her head. “EVERYONE DOWN~!” she yelled, in the voice she'd learned from Behavioural Adjuster Dr. Higgledy-parkierson. Everyone dropped to the ground as daylight streamed in through a cleft in the wall. She herself stayed in the seat, determined to pay attention tand meet this strange threat face-on.

It could only be fish pirates, hoping for someone who could be held for ransom. They'd take them all and hopefully drop the rest off at an island where they could get a fish boat back home. If they weren't lucky, they would b left in the middle of the air, which would rapidly translate to being left at the bottom of the ocean, among the unsophisticated fish. Not a fate she really wanted.

A dastardly piratical figur strode in, rough sharksin breeches topped with a flowy linen shirt, his brown hair covered in a white kerchief, a delicate goatee on his chin. “Right, everyone, Get up. Your captain and his men are dead already.”

It wasn't that hard to kill fish pilots. Just push them off the fish and you would have dead fish pilot, unless of course they hadn't taken off yet, in which case it would probably be more broken fish pilot. Either way, it was inconvenient for the pilot.

Elianna refused to move, even as the others stood to walk through to the other fish ship, where she could see a gill being held open for them. They filed out, even the man in whoman's clothing, leaving her with the dastardly pirate. “Why aren't you standing up?”

She fixed him with her coldest stare. “It is dangerous to stand in a fish ship that is int e air.”

The pirate blinked in mild surprise. “And it's not more dangerous to defy a pirate with a fish gun?”