Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

head.
    “Astonishing,” Komlan supplied.
    “Yes. Everyone in the New World is using coal to heat their boilers, but the earth itself can do the same here—but without the smoke, without breathing in air that turns a man’s lungs black. Imagine, providing heat and hot water to every home in SmokeCove. With enough steam, with the proper turbines, we could electrify the town. Lights in every home, without needing to burn oil. I can hardly imagine it, but my father has already drawn up the schematics. He knows the mechanics of it…but I also need a man familiar with volcanic forces, who understands how that all works.”
    “Oh, and I see why you’ve brought us here, Komlan. You’ll be stealing my partner away from me?”
    Di Fiore smiled faintly in response to Dooley’s good-natured grumble, but remained focused on David. “I’d offer any amount of money, but since you became a man of science, you obviously aren’t driven by the hope of making a fortune. But we could create something great here. We could wipe clean the dirt from our fathers’ names.”
    Dooley frowned. “Your father, Kentewess?”
    “He was the head machinist on Inoka Mountain.” And he’d never forgiven himself for helping to build that device, even though he’d forgiven Paolo di Fiore for inventing it.
    “Think on it,” di Fiore said. “I need a man like you.”
    The work did sound fascinating. More than that, it would allow David to remain on the island after the survey had been completed.
    He’d be employed by Paolo di Fiore, though. David felt no anger toward the man but couldn’t see himself working for him—and he’d never believed that Stone Kentewess’s name needed to be cleaned.
    “Thank you for the offer, but I can’t. We have a survey to complete.”
    “I’m sure the society can find another vulcanologist.”
    “True,” David said. “As can you.”
    Di Fiore conceded that with a nod. “Yes, I could. But I put great stock in destiny, Mr. Kentewess. It can be no accident you’re here at the very moment I need you.”
    It was no accident that David was here, but not for this. He was here for his mother—and he preferred to make his own destiny. But he could see that di Fiore wouldn’t take “no” as an answer now.
    “I’ll think on it,” he said.
    Di Fiore’s lips tugged back in that fishhook smile again. “That’s all I ask.”
    Despite the increase in population, there weren’t many more boats in the harbor than usual—and only one other airship, a small ferry cruiser. As soon as the men were out of the cargo hold and their supplies unloaded, the docks quieted.
    Annika waited until the steamcoach carrying David was out of sight before loading a hired sled with her own goods and trudging to the general store, swearing all the way. Unlike the port cities in the New World, there weren’t any carts to run her down, but the streets were frozen into ruts of mud and snow. In Hannasvik, this would never be allowed. She’d have taken out her troll and smashed them flat.
    After fifty yards of straining against the sled harness, the inside of her heavy coat steamed like a swamp. She hoped everyone at home appreciated this.
    Captain Ylvasdottor wasn’t the only one who supplied their village with goods from outside. Annika often picked up items on request, or things that she believed her people could use or enjoy.
    She also bought far too much fabric to keep aboard Phatéon . Though Vashon allowed her some space in the cargo hold, it was hardly enough for four years’ worth of purchases. Annika regularly sent the extra bolts of material home, where the women could use it—or put it aside until she returned.
    All of it would be put aside in the general store until spring, anyway, when someone from Hannasvik would come to collect it; until then, Valdís Annasdottor would keep it for her.
    Much like Captain Ylvasdottor, Valdís hadn’t thought Hannasvik was big enough for her, and had struck out for the New World fifty years ago. When the ship she’d left on was captured by pirates,she’d taken a decade-long detour around the world before finally reaching the American shores—captain of her own ship, mother to two boys, and with a cargo hold full of silks and gold. Ten years later, she’d returned to Iceland, this time with a cargo hold full of dry goods. She’d set up the general store in Smoke Cove—the first in the community—and lived in the quarters above the shop ever since.
    As a girl,