Heart of Steel
Page 29
“Not at the same time, I hope.” Gently, his arms slid under her. “A whipping, I can take. But I am not quite adventurous enough for that.”
She laughed, then had to stop at the ache in her head. He lifted her against him to carry her to the privy, but halted halfway across the cabin, suddenly shaking, holding her tight.
“I love you,” he said. “Please remember that when I tell you—I have taken over your ship.”
Yasmeen stared at him. Eyes bright, jaw tense, he appeared as if he were waiting for her machete at the back of his neck. “You ordered the crew to take her out of Rabat, I hope?”
“Yes.”
“Which way have we gone?”
“North.”
“Are we completely lost? Is the navigator dead?”
His tension began to ease. “No.”
“All right, then. You have said you would back me up if needed, and you have done a perfectly fine job of it.” She pointed to the privy. “Please.”
He had her morning water heated when she was finished, the soap ready. And being injured was not so terrible at all when it was followed by Archimedes carefully washing her from head to toe, then drying her with slow strokes of a soft cloth.
Retrieving one of his shirts, he slipped it over her head, and put his arm about her waist so that they could begin to pace.
Outside the porthole lay a rolling plain covered in snow. They must have gone farther north than she’d realized. “How long has it been?” she wondered.
“Three days.”
“And Rabat?”
“The mob stopped their looting after the palace. All is quiet again, and the French fleet is leaving.”
She began to nod, then realized—“If you fled, how do you know this?”
“Ah, well. I ordered the ship south first, and then west, and then back north over the sea. And when we approached the French fleet . . .” He paused as Yasmeen choked. “We are obviously still alive.”
Alive, and Archimedes would never be so stupid to approach them without a purpose. “Why did you do it?”
“We had a French academic aboard who had been part of a recent expedition that ended in Rabat, and he was seeking safe passage back to the islands. They recognized my name, of course—”
She snorted. “Of course.”
“And when they saw the items we gathered in Brindisi, were happy to take them aboard—especially as Ollivier also knew the location of da Vinci’s clockwork man.”
Her breath left her. “You told him?”
“Well, yes. Because in a few days, he will be eager to meet another man he has heard is in their fleet, one who has possession of a da Vinci sketch . . . that Ollivier will recognize as a fake. And then that man is going to die a very natural-looking death. I made certain he knew that ‘natural-looking’ was most critical.”
Al-Amazigh. Archimedes had arranged for Ollivier to kill the man who’d ordered the slaughter of her crew, yet do it in a way that wouldn’t begin a war. And this man was hers?
Her eyes filled. “Thank you.”
“I am sorry you couldn’t do it yourself.”
“It only matters that it is done.” Finally done. It would not ease the pain of losing her crew, her lady, but the debt of their deaths had not gone unpaid. “And the French let you fly away?”
“I had a Vashon for a first mate, and this is an airship very loyal to their king. We even sport a Huguenot cross on our balloon.”
That ugly, horrible thing. “And to think I said that Guillouet was treating her like a whore for it.”
“She is definitely a lady,” he said. “Are you sure you will not keep her?”
“She is not my lady.”
“All right. We will buy another one.” He stroked her back. “Temür Agha and Nasrin are waiting for you to awake before they go.”
So soon? But it was probably for the best. “Then let us go see them off.”
Ceres hovered over the edge of Paris, the sunlight glaring on her white balloon. A gorgeous day. The air above decks was crisp, zombies moaned below, and she had Archimedes by her side.
Temür Agha stood on the cargo lift, waiting for Nasrin. The gan tsetseg glanced at him before turning back to Yasmeen. “If the lady allows it, I will see you again, sister.”
Perhaps. After learning that the Horde soldiers had been abandoning the outposts, Temür Agha had decided that, rather than wandering the empire on Lady Khojen’s path, he would start at the outpost near Paris and begin gathering up rebels, slowly marching east. They would be in Europe for some time . . . and so, yes, it was possible that Yasmeen would meet them again.
“I look forward to it,” she said.
Nasrin leaned forward, kissed her cheeks, then kissed Archimedes’. With a smile, she turned toward the cargo lift—but of course she did not go down that way. She leapt, and by the time the lift rattled its way to the ground and Temür stepped off, a mob of dead zombies littered the snow.
Yasmeen smiled, watching them begin their long walk before looking to Archimedes. “I would have chosen Lady Khojen’s path.”
“So would I. But for now, our path goes to Port Fallow.” Archimedes took her hand. “Where does it go from there? I am an adventurer, you are a mercenary, but with the sketch, we will both have money enough to do whatever we like. Will you still be with me?”
“Idiot. I just said, I’d have chosen Lady Khojen’s path.” She lifted onto her toes, kissed him. Why not? This would not be her crew for much longer. “That path is to go traveling the world with her man—except I will not die at the hands of bandits. And I will still take passengers, and make more money.”
“I’ll make it with you. And I will still throw myself into crypts filled with zombies.”
“Then I will throw myself with you,” she said. “But first we need a lady to throw ourselves from.”
The Vashon shipyards seemed to be the perfect place to find her. Three weeks after selling their sketch for five thousand more than they’d anticipated, and four days after receiving a letter from Ollivier confirming al-Amazigh’s death, Yasmeen and Archimedes traveled to the New World to search for her new lady. They took out a two-seater balloon, weaving around the airships tethered above Port-au-Prince’s turquoise water.
“That would match my waistcoat,” Archimedes said, pointing to a bright orange balloon, then laughed when Yasmeen gave him a look to kill. “You’re right. The zombies would probably be leaping into the sky trying to catch us.”
“And I would die of embarrassment before I ever stepped aboard.”
He had never dreamed that choosing an airship would be like taking his sister to buy a hat for her birthday. He only cared that they had a cabin big enough for a small library and their bed made of pillows, and that it wouldn’t fall out of the sky on the first run. “You have said that of most these ships.”
“It is true of most.” She pushed the steering lever and pedaled, circling around the orange envelope. A skyrunner appeared in front of them.
Archimedes had hope. “She looks like your lady.”
“Too much,” Yasmeen said, and her eyes softened as her gaze ran over its lines. “She is the same model, but I hate her for not being the same. And—Oh. There.”
Had she ever looked at another person with such longing, Archimedes’ heart would have broken. But he understood too well that the sleek airship was something else to her—a life with no walls. She felt the wind on her face; he ran from zombies. They could not choose what they loved, but he thanked God for his luck in finding a woman to share it.
They rode the two-seater to her decks, and he heard Yasmeen’s sigh as her feet touched the boards. Her fingers trailed over the wooden rail as she walked along the side, and he saw the shaking of her hands as she stepped onto the quarterdeck and looked out over the bow.
A Vashon came up the rope ladder. Having seen several members of the family now, Archimedes wasn’t convinced that Peter and Paul had been twins. They all looked alike: tall, dark, and trou
ble in their grins.
This one looked surprised, however. “This one, Captain Corsair? She is a sound ship, but she has been used before. You were supposed to be told of the markings on the tails that would indicate which ships were new.”
“We were, and I don’t care. Used only means that she has been tested—and she still flies, so she must have passed all her trials. How much?”
“Don’t you want to see—”
“No. She’ll need alterations. Rail cannons at bow and stern. More shelves installed in the captain’s cabin. A different cargo lift, capable of raising . . .” She looked to Archimedes. “What is the biggest thing you have ever found, and wanted badly, but were not able to take with you?”
God, he loved her. “The bronze horses at the basilica in Venice.”
Her brows rose. “Back to Venice?”
“Yes.”
She turned to the Vashon. “Capable of raising four bronze horses, and to store them in her hold. You’ll probably need to enlarge the exterior hold doors, as well.”
“I would have to speak with the carpenters and recalculate the figures. The price will be—”
“Do it. I’ll pay it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He ran for the rope ladder.
Archimedes moved about the deck, looking down the hatchway, making his way to the quarterdeck, where Yasmeen stood with her eyes shining. Not tears now. Already feeling the wind.
“What shall you name her? She will be a lady, I think.”
“Yes. Always a lady.”
“Lady Luck? Lady Love?”
Her sneer was ruined by her laugh. “Those are horrible. You don’t name your own adventures, do you?”
“No. Zenobia never allows me.”
“I see why.”
“She has named Lady Lynx’s skyrunner Steel Flower.”
Yasmeen smiled. “This one has the same feel about her: fierce, loyal. She will fly so well.”
He grinned. “Lady Caracal? Lady Tiger?”
“Stop,” she said, laughing. “Those are awful. Perhaps she will be Lady Nergüi—and she will be no one but my lady.” She slid her hand through his. “You’ll treat her well?”
His lady. “Always, my captain.”
“Then we will see what adventures await us, Mr. Fox,” she said, and met his lips for a kiss.
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