Chapter Text
The Solaris Mark II softly trolled its way toward Barcelona, its hull glinting in the sunlight as waves crashed against it.
Its passengers had arranged this destination to cool down after another long adventure, just as they had before. None of them had much to go on as to where their next adventure would be, except for the fact that the next City of Gold was in Egypt. But the crew figured that could be worked out down the line.
As the Solaris II inched closer to the crowded port, its improvised captain, Tao had been shown an extra trick by its on-board intelligence, Heva: By deploying a myriad of holographic projectors and reconfiguring sections of the hull, the Solaris could pass as the very galleon that tried to attack its original in the past. None in the port would know the difference when it landed.
-----
After the group of seven followed a cobblestone road from the port into the city, Athanaos looked around the square, staring up at the huge cathedral.
Curious, he asked his son, “So, this is where you used to live, Esteban?”
Esteban followed his gaze, then pointed to the cathedral as he answered, “Yes, Father Rodriguez and the monks of that church took care of me since I was...um, adopted.”
Mendoza shook his head and laughed, “Be glad you weren’t here when it rained!” winking at Esteban.
Looking up, Esteban finally noticed the increasingly cloudy sky, and told his father, “Practically everyone knew my name around here just for that reason,” Esteban tried not to cringe, then cleared his throat. “But…there were some good times, too.”
Athanaos just chuckled, “I can imagine, my son.”
“I was here, too,” Zia added, rolling her eyes as they continued walking, “Those conquistadors had me up there,” she pointed to a balcony on one of the taller buildings. “They were going to hand me over to the Queen of Spain, I couldn’t imagine what for!”
Isabella huffed as she shook her head, “Why, I would’ve smacked her in the face for that!”
Noticing a shocked look in Mendoza’s face, Zia hastily insisted, “Come on, we’ve no time to waste on such idiocies!” before whispering, “That would’ve been nice!” to Isabella.
Sancho changed the subject, “I wo-wo-wo-wonder how Pedro is doing?”
“I was thinking the same thing,” nodded Mendoza. Staring down the myriad of streets, he pointed down the narrowest of them all, and stated, “And I think I know where he is. Come on!”
And the group of seven people trudged into the narrow street, some members gaining odd looks from the citizens.
Isabella tried to keep her weapons out of sight under the new cloak she found in her ship cabin, hoping some wouldn’t get the wrong idea.
Soon, the group closed in on a familiar-looking building where three roads met in a T-crossing. They could hear the voices of several dozen people clamoring inside, and Mendoza and Esteban recognized it on the spot.
The two of them smiled as they stepped closer to it, the other members both curious and slightly nervous.
Tao finally asked as they entered the open door, “How long has it been since we were here last? Feels like years!”
“Traveling from country to country can do that,” Mendoza assured the boy. “Probably a few months, at least.” Chuckling again, he assured the boy, “But don’t worry about that, let’s go see our friend!”
-----
Pedro just finished cleaning his latest goblet when he noticed a blue cape fluttering in the doorway. The sight was so abrupt that his jaw dropped with awe, a scene Pedro never thought would happen since his parting with Sancho.
“Hey, barman! Where’s my refill?” One of the gruff patrons complained.
“On it right now, sir!” Pedro admitted as took the man’s cup.
Mendoza led the group to a pair of wide tables, while he himself stepped toward the bar.
Seizing a chance, Pedro waved across the bar and greeted his friend, “Mendoza! Welcome back! Where have you been all this time?”
“Well, if you must know,” Mendoza answered with his familiar smirk, “We found the next City of Gold, but it’s a bit...harder to explain than the others.”
“Is that right?” Pedro asked with suspicion as he handed back the patron’s filled glass. “Well...what was in it?”
“I’d tell you, but...” Mendoza glanced at his companions over at the tables, “It’d take more than me to explain it.”
Just as Pedro tried to answer, a burly sailor bumped into Isabella’s side as he passed with his cup.
“Oof, excuse me!” she huffed.
Pedro stood there stunned, unsure how to react as he continued filling glasses.
The sailor just laughed, glancing at Isabella.
Trying to brush it off, Isabella took her seat with Tao and Sancho, the other table held by Athanaos, Esteban, and Zia.
Isabella tried to ignore the leery glances from some of the patrons, some of them throwing snide comments in her direction. Esteban, meanwhile, couldn’t help but stare out the window, the sunlight fully blacked out by clouds now. He looked at Zia, then Athanaos, then huffed, “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“If anyone tries to come for you,” Zia giggled. “We’ll have your back!”
Athanaos nodded, rubbing his new black wig.
“Hey, lady!” One of the conquistadors finally spoke up, “What ship brought you to Barcelona? Your outfit’s too fancy for a place like this!”
Isabella went red in the face, feeling for her gun.
“A galleon,” she huffed. “Just a regular ship, that’s none of your business!”
“I understand,” the man chortled as he walked forward. “Still, it’s not every day a lovely piece of work wanders in here!”
Smacking his hand out of the way, Isabella growled, “Leave me alone, I haven’t gotten my drink yet,” then walked toward the bar.
Then, with a heavy burst of thunder, rain began to fall. Athanaos saw his son’s anxious expression, and patted his right hand to comfort him.
Pedro’s eyes perked when she noticed Isabella’s face, “Mendoza, what is she doing here? In MY tavern?”
“It’s all right, she’s on our side,” insisted Mendoza.
Then Isabella reached into her belt, pulled out a pouch of orichalcum coins, and ordered as she slammed them to the counter, “Your strongest ale, for all of us!” Glancing at Esteban, she added, “And juice for the kids, if you would.”
Pedro’s eyes went wide as he counted the coins, then answered in awe, “Uh...I’ll get right on it, ma’am!”
Mendoza whispered to her, “You know those aren’t worth anything, right?”
“Shhh, let me have my fun,” teased Isabella.
As Pedro filled one glass after another, two heavyset men collected the glasses and brought them to the various tables.
But just as Esteban finally got a chance to drink his orange juice in peace, the front door banged open, and in walked an all-too-familiar figure in a royal Spanish robe with a long beard.
He cleared his throat and asked, “Excuse me, has anyone seen Esteban, the Child of the Sun?”
Trying to hold his ground, Athanaos interrupted, “Sir, this is my son you’re talking to!”
But several men just laughed, and the official replied with a puzzled look, “Are you sure, sir? You don’t look like him.”
And Esteban asserted himself as he looked at the patrons, “Wait, it’s not a festival today, is it? Surely a little storm never hurt anyone?”
Mendoza turned around and stepped toward the boy, looking at the eager patrons crowding around his spot.
“What’s this all about?” he asked, feeling for his sword.
“There he is! Right here!” One of the men pointed as he tried to stand again.
“Yes, that’s Esteban!” One of the soldiers insisted, pointing the boy’s way. “He’s returned to help the sun shine again!”
“No, we’ve returned to relax!” Esteban countered.
“He’s right, we’ve all been through a lot,” Mendoza huffed. “And I think you should give this boy some space!”
A drunk sailor near the back hobbled forward and drawled, “Esteban...(hic)...and a tall, ssstrong beauty...(hic) in the same room? This must be my...lucky day!”
Seeing the man inches from her body, Isabella kicked the drunkard in the groin, then punched him in the face for good measure.
Before she could go further, Mendoza grabbed Isabella by the shoulders and begged, “Wait, Isabella, there’s no need for violence!”
“Yeah, you’re right!” A soldier yowled from the back, “Put that woman away before she causes more trouble!”
“Wait, that lady is with you, Mendoza?” One of the conquistadors laughed, “My, I would never have guessed! How does an upstanding sailor like you find such a thick-headed woman like that?”
Mendoza barely had time to finish his ale before Esteban sprang from his chair, nicking Isabella’s flintlock from its holster. Then he ran toward the window, back against the glass, and aimed down the gun’s sight at the bearded man.
Trying to take charge of the situation, he demanded, “You again?! What are you planning to do? Drag me by the wrists to the street? In case none of you noticed, I turned thirteen years old while I was away!”
“Say, that’s not a bad idea!” someone muttered to another.
But the official just smiled and asked, “Come now, Esteban! Put that down, you are not that kind of person!”
Esteban just scoffed, the pistol never wavering, sarcastically replying, “You’re right. *I* would never hurt anyone, especially not a defenseless child!” Lowering the pistol, he shouted, “I’m leaving, thank you!” and tried to make his way toward the back door he remembered was behind the bar.
Then, the crowd saw an advantage and grabbed Esteban by the wrist, the gun falling from his grip. Isabella had to lean over a wooden partition to grab it.
Seeing the crowd was getting rowdier by the second and Esteban was in danger, Mendoza released Isabella and whispered, “On second thought, give them what for!”
“Thank you,” she grunted.
Pedro found himself puzzled, perplexed at what was taking place in his pub.
The tavern then erupted with action. Several sailors and soldiers rose from their tables, eager smiles on many of their faces as they bore down on Esteban.
He, Zia, and Tao tried to lose themselves in the crowd, trying not to be seen, with Sancho and Athanaos trying to protect them.
“Come back, Esteban!” the official called. “The city’s flooding by the second!”
Isabella, meanwhile, snared two men in her whip, pulling them away from the boy and punching others in the face. Two men tried to grab her by the shoulders, but she just ducked out of the way and knocked them to the floor by blows to the chest.
Sancho looked back and asked, “Wha-wha-what are you doing to them?”
Isabella gloated while twisting a bulky man’s left arm, “Teaching these men to not treat me like some damsel!”
On a whim, Zia couldn’t help but cheer, “You tell them!”
Just before a husky-looking sailor reached for her as he drawled, “I’d love to take you to sea with me, show you the world!”
“Sorry, I’ve already been there!” and kicked him in the groin. The man squealed in pain as he toppled to the floor.
More patrons started throwing bottles and using furniture as weapons. Pedro winced as one of them smashed a chair to pieces against someone’s head while Isabella rolled out of the way.
“Hey! That’s my furniture!” Pedro screamed.
But none of the patrons heard him.
By now, the children were parallel with the bar and trying to climb into a passage near it
“Back here! I always hid here when I was younger!” Esteban told them.
Just as Isabella floored most of the people in the room, the tavern now thoroughly trashed along one wall, two men broke away and grabbed Esteban by the shoulders, just as Tao and Zia crawled into the back room, Sancho needing help joining them.
-----
Tao stared back through the gap between several barrels, and saw Esteban being pulled out the door. Laguerra decided to load her gun, but as soon as she could aim, the group was already gone, the door slamming shut.
Zia saw the three adults still standing and waved them into the secret passage, finding the two children crouched on the floor.
“Tao, Zia? Are you alright?” asked Mendoza.
“Yes, but those people kidnapped Esteban!” Tao shrieked. “Why’d they do that?”
“I’m afraid they always did when it rained this badly,” Mendoza sighed.
Kokapetl the parrot squawked as usual.
“We can’t let them get away with this!” Zia pressed as she stood.
“I agree, that’s my son they’ve got!” Athanaos huffed, feeling a little queasy from the beer he tried.
Pedro finally appeared behind a partition, and Mendoza smugly asked, “Well, Pedro, did you get your money’s worth out of this tavern after all?”
Stunned, confused, and slightly angry at what just happened, the thin barman bowed his head and answered, “I’m not sure anymore, Mendoza.”
Sancho turned around and stared him in the face, but said nothing.
Then Pedro tried to change the subject, “How about you? What was in that next city you found?”
“Like I said, it’s a long story,” Mendoza insisted.”
Trying to get to the point, Sancho interrupted, “We-we-we-we need to save Esteban! He’s in trouble!”
But a sour look crossed his face, “What can I do? You managed just fine out there, from the looks of things!”
The kids and adults looked at each other, then Zia smirked, “We can talk about our adventures back on our ship when we’re done!”
“Ship? What ship?” Pedro asked, curious now.
Tao teased, “You didn’t know? We got a whole new Solaris out of the deal!”
Mendoza hid a chuckle at that familiar sparkle in Pedro’s eyes.
But Pedro asked, “What about my tavern, though?”
Sancho stammered, “Just c-c-close it! It’ll still be here when we come back!”
“Besides, I recall you two work better as a team, right?” Mendoza pushed.
Pedro’s thin mouth crumpled as he stared at his friend, “You sure? I thought you wanted to go your own way!”
“I did, at first,” Sancho admitted, “But it wa-wa-wasn’t the same without you.”
Zia added, “I think even the Condor missed your humor a little bit!”
“He did?!” Pedro gasped. He considered his options for a moment, then cleared his throat, “All right, I’ll help you, but only if you tell Cibola to apologize for hurting my feelings!”
Hiding his irritation, Tao replied with a handshake, “Deal.”
-----
Outside, the crowd hustled up the street, Esteban equal parts frustrated and scared from what he knew they would do to him. His tunic grew moist with the heavy rain that battered Barcelona. In a matter of minutes, with the guidance from the public official, they moved him into a wooden carriage, the same they’d used for the festival those months ago.
Leading the group of adventurers, Mendoza and Isabella were waving their swords in pursuit, trying to break up the crowd by force, but there were too many to fend off. Isabella managed to yank two people out of the group using her whip, but it set them back timewise.
Soon, they brought him to the familiar town square, and a chill ran down Esteban’s spine as three citizens were setting up an all-too-familiar wooden tower.
The crowd below clamored for Esteban to save them from this flood, and the boy was admittedly disturbed to see the streets filling with water, leaving half the crowd standing ankle-deep in it as it continued to rise.
Then two men hauled Esteban into a cart connected to a hoist running the length of the tower.
“Blast, we’re too late!” Mendoza huffed as he and the rest of the team made it.
Tao and Athanaos were particularly shocked at this.
“I don’t believe this!” the latter gasped. “What are they doing to my son?”
“We can’t do anything now, it’s up to him,” Mendoza explained. Looking at Athanaos, he added, “They want him to bring out the sun, that’s why they care so much about him.”
“Care for him like some tool, I think!” Zia huffed. "I bet that's what the Spaniards thought of me, too!"
Pedro tried not to laugh, and Isabella crossed her arms, ignoring the rising water.
Then the cart rose up along the tower, swaying in the wind. Esteban’s vertigo was gone, but the sensation was still frightening.
With his experience, Esteban tried to make sense of the situation: On the one hand, it was understandable if they wanted to be saved from something as severe as a flood, but on the other, it still wasn’t fair for a whole city to depend on a single human to change the weather.
“Come on, Esteban! Bring out the sun!” Someone shouted.
“We want the sun!” Another begged, waving their arms.
“Stop this flood for us!”
“You can save us from drowning!”
Above the roar of voices, images of Cibola, Mirada, and his mother passed through his head, and Esteban summoned his courage, and shouted, “Why do you do this to me?! Do you think I’m some GOD?”
He couldn’t hear the peoples’ answers above the roaring rain.
“I am just an ordinary boy!” He shouted again. “A boy who has seen more of the world than any of you have!”
Thunder boomed through the clouds with his words, lightning flaring behind.
Then, as the basket swung back and forth in the wind, Esteban tried to grasp how he made the sun appear that last time, wondering what he’d thought to trigger it. Then Esteban remembered that feeling, that rush of clarity and courage he felt when he flew the Condor alongside its helper. Enraged at these people who did this to him, he remembered the helper’s tactics, and breathed deeply once, twice, then screamed as the lighting struck closer and closer, “I never said this before, but...I...I...” he gulped, fighting back tears, “I...HATE YOU! I HATE! YOU!! ALL!!!”
And in a split second, a single bolt of lightning shot through the top of the tower like energy through a wire. As the clouds slowly parted with that final bolt, the crowd screamed with horror as the tower exploded into a shower of burning wood chips, the extreme heat spreading down the ropes to the basket holding Esteban captive. Trying to resist the ensuing flames and his fear, Esteban put all his weight on one rear corner, and banked it so that the cart would land in the harbor, near the edge of the plaza that backed onto the sea. All shocked to see the boy fall, Mendoza’s team raced across the square to that spot, followed by the citizens.
Esteban thrust himself out of the sinking basket, and tried to swim to the surface. He saw Mendoza’s toned arms as he hauled the boy up, and half of the crowd tried to alert the rest that the sun was indeed coming out, sunbeams streaking through as the floodwater drained out of the streets.
Coughing water out of his lungs, Esteban looked around, spotting the scorched, fallen tower, and he asked Mendoza, “Whoa...did...did I do that?”
Athanaos stepped forward, hugged his son, and heartily answered, “Yes, I think you did.”
Zia, Tao, Pedro and Sancho were all cheering at the spectacle they saw, happy to see that Esteban pulled such a risky stunt and made it out alive.
Zia in particular found herself amazed by the event, thinking, “And I thought my ability scared people!”
Isabella stepped forward in disbelief, while some of the conquistadors did crowd control.
Then, his bravery back, Esteban stepped toward the crowd and shouted, gesturing at the pile of ashes in the middle of the square, “You see this? I told you I didn’t want to be hoisted up that thing, and now you can’t do that anymore!”
Several people looked at him with shock, others with awe, and the bearded official’s jaw hung open as if what just happened shouldn’t have been possible.
Finally, the official stepped forward, stammered, “You...You destroyed the whole tower! Why?”
“Because I’ve had it up to here with...changing your weather on a whim!” Esteban huffed back.
Athanaos pointed at the man, “You should be ashamed of yourself, making a mockery of my son this way!”
“He brought out the sun, didn’t he?” Someone said to another.
“And the flood’s gone!” A woman cheered.
Isabella had her gun trained on the official, and she huffed, “You sure put a lot of faith in that boy. Kind of unnaturally so.”
Noticing the pistol, the official looked back and forth, then raised his arms half-way as Esteban and his group gave him a long stare.
With him and several townsfolk so disturbed to be held this way, the bearded man gulped and finally asked, “All right, what do you want from us?”
“Let me go about my own business,” Esteban demanded. “And the next time we come back, treat me like a normal citizen, not some...god!”
“Come back? Where are you going?” The man asked.
“That’s not your concern, sir,” Mendoza retorted.
Zia looked at the others, a bit off-put by the slight harshness between both parties.
“What about the town? Do you know how many ships will be arriving this month?” One of the conquistadors asked.
“We can’t guarantee clear weather without you, Esteban,” another added.
Someone in the crowd heard this and muttered, “This is a rather silly situation, now that I think about it.”
Esteban looked back and forth, glancing up at the cathedral and the rest of the city. All his life, he’d lived here, raised by that church, and only made famous to bring the sun out at will.
Finally, he cleared his throat and stated, “I just think I deserve something in return for all those times you wanted...my help.”
“What is it that you desire?” The official asked. “Money? Gold?”
Esteban thought it over, ignoring Pedro’s excited jibbering. Then, glancing at his father, he answered, “Don’t give it to me, donate it to the monastery,” Esteban pointed to the towers of the church, “They’ve taken care of me all these years, it’s only fair. I think they’d make better use of it than me.”
“Consider it done,” the official nodded.
Glancing at Pedro one more time, Esteban requested, “And give him some compensation money for it as well.”
Some of the townsfolk laughed, but Esteban just waved his arm, and the official nodded again.
The proceedings now overwith, several high-ranking figures stepped forward to hand out a thick pouch of pouch of gold, which Esteban then passed to Pedro.
Smirking, the boy turned and asked, “Is this enough to persuade you to come with us?”
“Would I ever!” Pedro yipped. But, seeing Esteban standing where he was, Pedro stopped, set down the bag, then crouched slightly to give him a proper hug. He softly admitted, “I take back all the mean things I said about you.”
“Don’t mention it,” giggled Esteban as Pedro let go.
Finally, Zia asked, “So, are we ready?”
The townsfolk took one long look at the people around them, and, realizing now that they had no more control over this boy, simply bid the group farewell as they headed for their ship. Some of the people wondered if they’d ever see Esteban again. The official just grumbled slightly, frustrated that the governor was wrong all along.
While none on the street saw the Solaris II drop its holo-cloak and re-extend into its regular configuration, someone watching from a high tower, did.
-----
Pedro was blown away in multiple directions when he entered the ship’s lower deck. It was baffling enough to be standing on board a ship that used to be destroyed, but another when he saw the personalized cabins in its mid-bay deck.
He certainly wasn’t expecting another talking voice, but was happy Heva remained mostly stoic and calm compared to the chatty Cibola of the Golden Condor.
When Pedro opened his cabin across from Sancho’s, the surprise hit him again. The entire chamber appeared to be plated wall to wall in orichalcum, apart from checkered black-and-white floor tiles. The bed was tall, ornate, and studded with jewels along its legs and headboard.
The desk was empty, apart from a tray from the galley bearing a fresh-cooked dish of eggs and grilled fish.
As he ate, Pedro wondered what on Earth he’d missed since parting ways with Sancho, and what would become of their partnership from now on.