Venturess Page 7

  Even in the pale light of my small gas lantern, I could see what marvels of engineering they were. I hated their purpose, but I had to admire their design. Runner, with her rapturous dreams of cannons and battle machines, would adore these.

  I’d seen her earlier in the evening, tucked snugly into Caro’s own childhood bed while Mrs. Hart sat at its foot, turning the crank on one of my knitting machines ferociously and glaring at anyone who threatened to wake the child up. I almost wished I could stay, that I could make good right away on my promise to start teaching her engineering, but there would be time. I’d lend her some of my books before we left, and I’d see to it that Lord Alming looked after her; he’d be glad of another brilliant young protégée to encourage.

  The thought of the voyage made me realize how tired I was. There was so much to do, to organize, before we departed. I’d learned all I could here, and it was time to go home.

  As I turned to leave, I saw something familiar: the broken remnants of the Fin automaton I had attacked the previous morning. I smiled and moved closer, the better to inspect the damage I’d done. The scent of ombrossus grew stronger as I approached.

  The light from my lantern caught another human shape next to the false Fin. I jumped back, thinking it was Fitz lying in wait for me, but it didn’t move.

  I realized it was another automaton. I stepped forward again to examine it. I held my light up to its face, and then I let go of the lantern to cover my mouth with both hands and muffle my scream.

  The lantern clattered to the ground; the flame guttered and went out.

  The face I had seen was my own.

  Part ii

  THE month before our embarkation sped by in a haze of hard work. Any time I didn’t spend on the special orders I’d received at the Exposition, I was working with Lord Alming, hammering out the finer points of his stewardship over my business while I was away. I had total faith in his intentions; he was so proud of me and my successes that he would never do me wrong. His ambitions still centered not on increasing his already-massive fortune, but on using his own money to spy on the Brethren. I’d constructed a few cunning little devices to aid in that goal, but I drew the line at leaving any of the buzzers with him.

  The buzzers and Jules were coming with me, as much because of how lonesome I’d be for them as to make sure they didn’t fall into the wrong hands while I was away. They slept peacefully now, tucked opposite the Ashes that they always avoided when awake. I’d had to take those with me too, packed carefully into slender glass tubes and stored in a padded and reinforced briefcase I designed myself. While I still didn’t know what the Ashes really were, I was certain that they would spell more trouble than I could get out of if the Brethren found them. And if I was ever going to discover the origin of this particular magic, which even the part-Fey smugglers I’d met seemed to fear . . . well, Faerie had to be the place to do it. Mr. Candery used to buy them for my mother; surely he would know.

  I could imagine our reunion already. My arms ached to hug him again.

  Before I knew it, Fin, Caro, and I were in Port’s End, stepping onto the gangway that led up to the Imperator.

  It was a glorious creation, a sleek ebony vessel inlaid with brass portholes, big enough to hold a crew of six as well as twelve passengers—​although for this voyage there would be only Fin, Caro, and me.

  The great black balloon rising above the ship bore the triple stars of the Esting flag, just like the first airship I’d ever seen, at last year’s Exposition. It was strange to think how quickly they’d gone from being newfangled wonders to everyday sights; military airships patrolled the sky above Esting City every day now, airborne defenses that somehow felt more intrusive than reassuring.

  This one seemed designed more for luxury travel than warfare, but even so, the cannons lining its hull were hardly decorative. The Imperator was prepared to defend itself.

  The thought should have filled me with fear, but at that moment, walking up a gangplank into the sky, all I could feel was excitement and the thrill of freedom. I was getting out of Esting City, out of Esting entire, out of all the things that haunted and constricted me there. I was going on an adventure to visit the land I’d dreamed of ever since I was a small child falling asleep in my bed to the sound of Mother’s stories. I was going to Faerie, and I would see Mr. Candery there.

  Jules trotted ahead of me, and the buzzers sprang one by one from my pockets and hand luggage and followed him. I smiled at their eagerness, but I stayed with Fin and Caro.

  “Do you suppose they feel they’re going home?” Caro asked. She’d worn a sensible brown traveling outfit for the day, having specifically requested that Jules make her something without frills. She wanted to seem as inconspicuous as possible when Fin and I waved our goodbyes to the Port’s End crowd that had gathered to watch us leave on our engagement voyage.

  “Surely they do,” said Fin. “The Ashes come from Faerie, don’t they, Nick?” He looked perhaps more princely than ever in his official military regalia, turning to wave at the throng.

  “That’s the only thing I know for sure,” I said as people cheered. I was a little afraid to learn the Ashes’ secrets, but . . . they had brought life to Jules and the buzzers, and I loved them so much. I could only long to know more.

  A Brethren priest waved incense across the prow of the airship, chanting prayers in such low, sonorous tones that I couldn’t understand his words. I shivered. I didn’t know how so many of my countrypeople could fear magic so much and yet implicitly trust the Brethren’s dour, menacing brand of mysticism. I didn’t believe the priest’s prayers and incense would have any effect on our voyage one way or the other, but somehow I still wanted him to stop. I knew the Brethren wished nothing good for me, or Fin, or this venture. They wanted only to use us like puppets, the way they did Corsin.

  I thought of the likeness of myself that I’d found in Fitz’s storeroom. I’d gone back there just last night with a wrench and a torch and a bottle of oil, and I’d destroyed my simulacrum utterly. I’d burned a few of those frightening soldiers in the process, and I could only hope I’d bought us a little more time before Fitz’s army would be finished and ready for travel.

  I looked at the crowd that had gathered to see us off, and I suddenly wished it were larger. The more people who saw Fin and me leaving the country, the better; it would take Fitz months to rebuild those automatons, but still, the idea of his using my likeness to promote his own agenda, let alone of his using another false Fin, made me feel ill.

  The walk up the gangplank was longer than it had seemed from the safety of the ground. It took several minutes before we reached the ship itself. I made the mistake of looking back down as we boarded, and all the empty sky between that spindly gangplank we’d climbed and the earth made my stomach clench.

  The feeling didn’t abate once we were on deck. But at least there was plenty to distract me from the idea that we all stood on nothing but air.

  First, the Imperator’s six crew members greeted us with formal salutes. I’d never felt comfortable with the servants in the palace, at least not the way Fin was, and the crew’s deferential body language made me self-conscious too. I’d had plenty of fun at the palace’s “downstairs” parties with Caro, carousing with her mother and her scores of cousins. But I could never get used to servants serving me. Fin knew nothing different, but he was always respectful to them, friendly and conversational without demanding that they like him—​and exactly because of that, they tended to like him very much.

  Only two people didn’t seem so pleased to greet us. The first, dressed in white robes and headscarf, was clearly the ship’s doctor, a Su chirurgienne like the one who had fixed Fin’s bullet wound. She nodded coolly, keeping her hands clasped behind her back; still, she didn’t seem unfriendly, only reserved.

  But the Brother that King Corsin had insisted accompany us on the voyage didn’t even join the welcoming line. He stood at the prow of the ship, swinging an incense burner at
the end of a long chain—​what about the fire risk, I wondered?—​and chanting words I couldn’t hear.

  I felt my skin prickle, and I was glad everyone else on board seemed to be ignoring the Brother. I turned away from him, deciding to do the same.

  Fin met the crew first, and their regard for him was obvious from the real warmth in their smiles when he shook their hands. Caro and I received polite bows from the men and a bobbing curtsy from the one female sailor, who introduced herself with a shy smile as Sneha. We smiled shyly back; it was obvious that Caro felt as awkward as I did.

  “I wish I could have come as your lady’s maid,” she muttered.

  “Lord, no!” I whispered back. “This is disorienting enough!”

  The word disorienting reminded me that I was standing in midair, and my stomach lurched. When Caro grinned at me, all I could manage in return was a queasy smile.

  The ship’s captain, a surprisingly young man named Wheelock who greeted us with an impeccable formal bow, said that our heavy luggage had been sent on ahead and was already waiting in our rooms. “There will be refreshments in the galley in one hour’s time,” he said gravely, as if tea and cakes were the most serious matter in the world. “Perhaps you wish to inspect your quarters before launch, to ensure that you have everything you need.”

  “Thank you, Wheelock,” Fin said with a genuine smile. “We’re grateful for your forethought.” Ever since we’d decided on a course of action, he had seemed much more relaxed and healthier, and while he still wore a sling, his wound was nearly healed. The chirurgienne had told us that his shoulder would likely always be stiff, but you’d never guess it from his straight and vigorous stance.

  The three of us followed Wheelock through an ebony door into the belly of the airship, and the idea that we really would be spending a month on board began to sink in. It was a long time—​and at the end of it we would come ashore on a magical and exceedingly dangerous foreign continent.

  But I was my father’s daughter as well as my mother’s, and William Lampton had loved nothing more than travel to foreign lands. I was glad I hadn’t inherited his prejudice against Faerie, but I liked to think I had something of his sense of adventure. I called on it now. My father had been a traveling trader, a venturer; perhaps I could be a venturess.

  We neared the end of a long, tall, narrow corridor lined with long, tall, narrow doors and lit with small glimmering lanterns that hung from the ceiling by ropes—​to keep them steady in case of storm or wind, I remembered from a book about shipbuilding that I’d read some years ago. It seemed many things from those old ocean-sailing ships translated directly to the air, including words like galley and berth.

  “Miss Caroline Hart,” Wheelock said with another flourishing bow as he stopped before a copper-inlaid door, “your quarters are here.”

  He opened the door, and Caro gasped with delight. Inside the intensely neat little room I could see built-in bunk beds and shelves, and Caro’s steamer trunk was strapped to the opposite wall with thick leather belts. There was a copper basin secured there too, and a small round mirror above it. A brass porthole let light in at the far wall, and a fresh-smelling posy hung by the mirror. The severe economy of space might have made the room seem cramped, but instead it had a cheerful simplicity that made its size perfect.

  “The shared water closet is at the end of the hall, miss,” said Wheelock, “and if you require anything you may ring the pull here.” He indicated a silk rope hanging by the door that disappeared into a discreet space in the ceiling.

  “Thank you,” Caro said, “but I do like to take care of myself. I’m used to it, you see.”

  “So I’ve heard, miss,” said Wheelock, and the two shared a conspiratorial little smile that suddenly made the captain seem like a young person after all.

  Caro tossed her hat onto the lower bunk. “Right,” she said briskly to Fin and me. “See you in an hour? I want to write Bex a note before I freshen up. We won’t want to miss those refreshments!”

  We nodded and Caro disappeared into her cozy room, closing the door behind her.

  “The royal suite is just here,” Wheelock said with a bow, indicating the grand door at the end of the hallway. “I can only hope everything is to your satisfaction.”

  He kept looking at me as he spoke, and I couldn’t understand why I should have any say in the appointment of Fin’s rooms.

  Then he opened the door and I saw the big double bed, decked out in silver and gray.

  “We’re to share a room!” I exclaimed, not quite able to control my surprise. What about the palace maid who’d been so worried about my reputation that she didn’t want to leave me alone with Fin even when he was wounded and unconscious?

  Wheelock’s eyes widened with horror. “A suite, my lady! I thought it would be best, since there’s room for the, ah, supplies you brought here . . . I do apologize . . . Anything you’d like changed, anything at all . . . I’m truly sorry, I meant no insult, with the engagement announced—”

  Fin smiled his beam-of-light smile. “It’s quite all right, Wheelock,” he said. “Nicolette would prefer a separate room, that’s all. Please don’t worry.”

  The color was still drained from Wheelock’s face, but he composed his expression quickly. “Thank you, Your Highness,” he said. “I am very grateful for your understanding.” He bowed low before me. “And for yours, my lady.”

  “Not at all,” I said, embarrassed. Had I given the game away by my surprise at sharing a bed with Fin? The public belief in our engagement was key to our whole mission.

  “Ah, Wheelock?” I said, trying to sound natural when I’d never in my life called someone by a surname alone. “It’s perfectly all right. I will stay in these, ah, quarters after all; they are far too lovely to change in the least.” In addition to keeping up the pretense of our engagement, I realized I couldn’t possibly let Fin sleep alone and unguarded . . . at least not before we’d gotten to know the crew much, much better.

  I took Wheelock’s gloved hand, then quickly pulled back for fear it wasn’t proper; it was clear that the oddly stiff young captain set great store by such things. “It’s fine, truly,” I said.

  His dark gray eyes met mine just long enough to startle me with their sharp perception. Then he looked away, formal and reticent again.

  “Not at all, my lady.” He bowed and turned to leave.

  Fin gave me a roguish grin over Wheelock’s shoulder.

  As soon as the captain left, I rolled my eyes. “I’m staying here simply for your own safety, Your Highness,” I said pointedly.

  “Of course, of course!” Fin agreed, imbuing his husky voice with the innocence of an angel. “Why would I ever think otherwise?” His smile broke out again, although he tried to hide it as he added: “And will you be thinking of our captain’s safety next?”

  Since neither question was worthy of reply, I turned away with great dignity and went to my steamer trunk, wanting to change so I could get to the galley. I hoped a little food and something hot to drink would settle my mind. The wobble in my legs and belly had subsided, and inside this room I could almost convince myself I stood on solid ground. The small round portholes instead of windows, the slight concavity of the walls, and the way everything was either bolted or strapped down to the floor were the only elements that gave any indication that this was not the case.

  I was so intently busy with my clothes that I didn’t notice Fin walking up behind me until he put a hand on my arm. “Truly, Nick, don’t worry,” he said. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable just there.”

  I touched his hand with mine, then turned to face him. “You didn’t,” I said. “It’s just . . . it’s always there, isn’t it? You’re such a dear friend to me now, but sometimes I just . . . I remember. The way I used to feel about you.”

  Fin smiled again, but gently and seriously this time. “I know. It’s not always easy, what you and I and Caro have. But we don’t need to let the past keep us apart.”

&n
bsp; I hugged him close. “A good thing, too,” I said. “Someone’s got to keep you from getting assassinated on this voyage.”

  Fin laughed. “I’m safe as kittens with you and Caro, and don’t I know it,” he said, but he wouldn’t quite meet my eyes.

  He left me in the bedroom and went to the suite’s tiny sitting room so we could both change; I bustled my dusty traveling clothes into a fascinating suction laundry shoot. Then we each had our turn in the suite’s private water closet. It had brass plumbing and an amusingly tiny chairlike bathtub; it seemed space in an airship was at a premium even in the royal suite.

  Once we’d freshened up, Fin and I sat side by side at an ornate little desk that folded out of the wall, following Caro’s example and writing our own last letters home. Airships flew so fast that we had only a short time until the Imperator would pass its mail limit; after that point, carrier pigeons released from the ship wouldn’t be able to reach the shore of Esting. I wrote a final thank-you and a few instructions for Lord Alming, plus an encouraging note to Runner; Fin wrote to his father. His face was so full of quiet longing that I didn’t feel I could ask what he’d written.

  We finished our letters just in time for refreshments in the galley, which was located on the opposite end of the ship from the sleeping quarters. As we walked down the hallway and ascended the stairs to the deck, I had the uncomfortable feeling that my body was rising at a faster rate than it would have from just my feet taking it up the steps.

  That feeling was horridly confirmed when I came out into the open air and a huge white shape rushed down upon me.

  “Fin, look out!” I cried, pushing him farther behind me and shielding my face with my arm.

  I felt a cool, gentle sprinkle of water on my hands and hair, and then it was past.