by Jeff Wheeler
All too early, the light in the sitting room dimmed, signaling it was time for bed, and Cettie felt a flicker of dread once again. She had tried to be good that day, especially with the company. But she was still worried that she’d slipped in some way to earn Mrs. Pullman’s displeasure.
Anna squeezed Cettie’s hand. “I don’t want you to go,” she said softly. “I wish you would sleep in my room. I don’t care what Master Sloan says about deeds; I already consider you as my own sister. Stephen and Phinia have each other, and they’ll both leave for school before long. I’ve never had anyone, except Raj Sarin, and he’s too old to be a true friend. I do wish you’d stay with me.”
Cettie bit her lip, feeling the conflict war inside her. “I don’t think I should. Maybe when we are real sisters.”
“Papa!” Phinia said in an overly loud voice as she bounded up to him. “Some of the Hardings are going to have a dance tomorrow. Well, just to practice before their ball. Can you take us in the tempest? They said we could stay for several days. Oh please, Papa?”
Fitzroy glanced at his wife. Mrs. Pullman was sitting by her on the couch, holding her hand and stroking it. Lady Maren looked doubtful.
“I’m sorry,” Fitzroy said. “But I’m going to Dolcoath on the morrow in the tempest. And then to Lockhaven. The prince regent has asked to meet with me.”
“The prince regent?” Stephen asked in surprise, suddenly interested. “What for?”
“I don’t know,” Fitzroy said offhandedly. “Since the emperor’s apoplexy, everything is chaotic there. That’s why I need to inspect the mines.”
“Can we take a zephyr, then?” Phinia pleaded. “Stephen could pilot it.”
Cettie could see by the look on their father’s face that he wasn’t pleased by the idea. “I’ll discuss it with your mother. The lights have dimmed. It’s time for bed.”
“That means no,” Phinia said sulkily. “Come on, Stephen. We might have to learn how to fly like Raj Sarin.”
A smirk appeared on the lad’s face as he rose from the couch.
“Son,” Fitzroy said, stopping him. “Would you like to go to Dolcoath with me?”
There was a look of conflict on the young man’s face, which settled into a general attitude of resentment. “No, Father. I’ve been there often enough.”
Fitzroy looked a bit disappointed, just a little wrinkle in his brow, as Stephen and Phinia left the room together, their heads bowed in conversation.
Anna rose from the couch, pulling Cettie with her. She approached Fitzroy, tugging Cettie after her. “Papa, Cettie hasn’t been to Dolcoath yet. Can we go with you?”
Cettie knew the family owned a silver mine and harvested other rare metals also. She felt her stomach start to fill with butterflies of eagerness.
“Don’t you want to go to Gimmerton Sough with your brother and sister?” Fitzroy asked Anna. Then he gave Cettie an appraising look. “Would you like to come?”
“I would,” Cettie answered. “Very much.”
Mrs. Pullman’s wrinkles twisted into scowling knots. She shot Anna an angry look for having suggested the idea.
“Then you shall.”
“Thank you, Papa!” Anna said, giving him an exuberant hug and kisses.
“Off to bed, both of you,” Mrs. Pullman remonstrated the girls. She rose from the couch and addressed Fitzroy. “Isn’t the weather too inclement for a visit to the gorge, Master?”
Fitzroy shrugged. “We’re reaching the end of it, I think. The skies should be calmer on the morrow.”
“If you say so,” Mrs. Pullman said. “Go along, children. Mind the time.”
Anna squeezed Cettie’s hands in excitement, and the two started walking off. But they were still close enough to hear Lady Maren speak.
“Sir Jordan looked very troubled tonight. The two of you spoke a long while. Is it as bad as I fear?”
Fitzroy sighed. “I didn’t know things had deteriorated so much. The business is floundering, and he has too many debts. He can’t meet his obligations, and it seems unlikely to change soon. Many of his creditors are encouraging him to invest in a speculation.”
“You warned him against it, though,” Lady Maren said.
Cettie glanced back, but Mrs. Pullman was standing near the couple, and she gave her a disapproving frown. Cettie turned around and continued down the corridor, slowing her steps in the hope that she’d hear more.
“Of course,” Fitzroy answered. “But I’m afraid he won’t listen to my advice.”
Lady Maren sighed. “I wish you didn’t have to go to the City. You know I couldn’t live there, Brant. Not after what happened.”
“Shhhh,” Fitzroy said soothingly. “Who knows what the prince regent wants? It could be any number of things. It doesn’t mean he’ll ask me. And what happened . . . that was a long time ago. Many people have forgotten it.”
“I haven’t,” Lady Maren said. “I doubt I ever will.”
Cettie was relieved that her sleep had been undisturbed that night. Mrs. Pullman had decided not to take revenge on her for whatever reason. But maybe it meant that Anna would be punished instead. The thought of that happening made Cettie worry.
Fitzroy had accurately predicted the weather. The dawn sky over Fog Willows was devoid of clouds the next morning, while coils of thick mist lay beneath it. Everything had a damp, pleasant smell. The scent of a fresh rainstorm was so different in the cloud manor than it had been in the Fells. Down there, rain turned the streets into mire. It brought forth the unpleasant odors of overflowing cesspits—the basement chambers where refuse was put. Living in the sky, the air smelled like wet stone and damp trees.
As Cettie shivered on the landing platform, Mrs. Pullman standing at her back, she watched the vice admiral’s tempest rise over the steep shingles of the manor. It dwarfed the zephyr she had ridden to Fog Willows months before. There were three masts, one jutting from the top, and one jutting from either side. The sails were not unfurled yet, and she saw the master’s servants scrabbling around on deck to make the craft ready for the voyage. She had seen tempests flying over the Fells before, but none so close that she could see the rigging and hear the shouts of command.
“Now, you do as you are told,” Mrs. Pullman said from behind, her voice full of warning and a hint of disgust. “I will know if you’ve misbehaved at all. Why the master should condescend to bring you to the family mines, I’ll never know. He’s taken leave of his senses. But don’t get underfoot, whatever you do.”
“I won’t, Mrs. Pullman,” Cettie said deferentially.
“The master has concerns weighing on him now,” she continued, tugging her shawl tighter against the cool breeze. “He may get called to serve as prime minister.” Her voice throbbed with pride. “If that happens, things will change. He will be gone from Fog Willows much of the time. You and Felicianna have been too friendly with each other. That will not be good. For either of you. Don’t encourage her. Or she may get a visitor to her room instead.”
Her words began to sour Cettie’s expectations about visiting Dolcoath. Rather than respond, she kept her expression stoic, her eyes on the airship.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Mrs. Pullman said in a threatening voice.
“Yes, Mrs. Pullman,” Cettie said weakly.
The tempest lowered down to the landing platform. Anna waved to her from the gangway, but she looked subdued, not as excited about the travel as Cettie had anticipated. The sky ship came parallel with the circular yard, and two uniformed officers stood ready with a ramp, which they fixed into place.
“Don’t forget what I told you,” Mrs. Pullman muttered.
Cettie, anxious to be away from her, walked up the plank and entered the massive sky ship. Anna’s eyes looked wan from lack of sleep, and she touched her stomach as if it ached.
“Are you all right?” Cettie asked her.
Anna shrugged and took her hand. “I am now.”
Soon they were airborne, and Cettie’s stomach thrilled at the sens
ation. Fitzroy wore his usual jacket, vest, and knee-high leather boots. His hands were clasped behind his back, and a small private smile brightened his face as he stood near the helm, the wind ruffling his graying hair. Once, long ago, he had been a sky-ship captain in the Ministry of War. The longer Cettie looked at him, the more she wondered why he had left that life behind.
At the bottom of the sky ship, there were thick sections of glass wedged into metal girders. Anna had explained that it was another way to exit the sky ship from beneath, and the crew needed to be able to see what was under the vessel before it landed. The two girls lay on the glass on their stomachs, watching the treetops below as they crossed the land. It had terrified Cettie at first because it felt as if they would plummet down to the earth, but the glass was thick and sturdy.
The bowels of the sky ship were intriguing. There were no machines or cranks or wheels, no obvious mechanics. The sky ship was very quiet as it glided across the countryside, passing over vibrant farms and narrow ridges. Cettie had passed over it in the darkness and now realized how wide the world was outside the Fells. She’d once imagined the entire world nothing but a continuous series of dirty, ill-kept, narrow streets that went at odd angles to one another. The only escape, she’d thought, was up in the sky. But the city where she’d spent her whole life was only a tiny part of a much bigger whole. Why did so many people stay in the dirty, stinking cities when this lay beyond?
Anna rested her chin on her forearms and pointed out different sights as they cut their way through the air.
“Is this the ship your father was captain of?” Cettie asked dreamily, gazing down at the view.
“Oh no,” Anna said. “The Ministry of War doesn’t let the captains keep their own ships. This is a merchant-class tempest. Father uses it to transport the silver after enough has been harvested.”
“Has he ever been attacked?” Cettie asked. “A ship full of silver would be worth something.”
“Yes,” Anna said. “The crew all used to work for Father in the ministry. And Raj Sarin is a Bhikhu. Not many captains have someone like him in their employ. I’m so glad we could go with Papa. You’ll love Dolcoath.”
“What’s it like?” Cettie asked, intrigued. She scratched an itch on her cheek.
“Well, it’s very dirty,” Anna explained. “Most mines are. But where we are going is the birthplace of Fog Willows. When the mine was discovered, you see, they built the manor house on the rocks and peaks of the mountain atop it. There were tunnels crisscrossing beneath it. Eventually, when it was done, it was lifted up.”
Cettie turned her head to look at her friend.
“Lifted up,” Anna went on, seeing the confused look in Cettie’s eyes. “You know, through the Mysteries. Papa said there are a lot of underground springs in Dolcoath. Much of the silver that’s been found there was underwater. So the waterfalls of Fog Willows are what pull the water from the mines. That’s why the waterfalls we’ve walked past at home are always running. They’re fed by the springs within the mines.”
That didn’t help at all. “But how does the water in the mines get all the way up to the manor?”
Anna shrugged. “It’s one of the Mysteries. There are so many, Cettie. Which Mystery would you like to study when we go to school?”
“Do you think I will be able to go?” Cettie asked in a hopeful voice.
“Of course! Papa doesn’t break his promises. I think you should choose the Mysteries of Wind. He says you like his study best out of all the rooms in the manor.”
“I do like it. What is that down there? Oooh, there’s the gorge! You can see it!”
Both girls lifted their heads and rested their chins on their hands while their elbows pressed against the glass. The sky ship began to descend, and a thrilling sensation went through Cettie’s stomach again.
“The only way to get in or out of the gorge is by sky ship or wagon,” Anna said, pointing down. “It takes a long time for wagons to come up and down that road, and it’s dangerous, too. The families of the workers live in cabins along the road. It’s so green, isn’t it? I love Dolcoath.”
The view was indeed majestic. The gorge was a series of intersecting hills and mountains that went as far as the eye could see. She could see the road cut into the mountainside, and small plumes of smoke spiraled up from where cookfires burned below. The sky ship suddenly plunged down into the neck of the gorge, and Anna and Cettie started giggling involuntarily. Jagged rocks and rugged trees rose from the nearly vertical cliff walls, and Cettie found herself thinking of Fog Willows.
“Where did the manor come from?” Cettie asked, scanning the treetops as they made their descent. She was trying to find the place where the stone had been gouged away.
“You can’t see it,” Anna replied. “It was over a hundred years ago. More trees have grown up since then. The land has healed, but there’s still somewhere we can go to see where the manor was yanked away. There’s a river that runs along the base of the gorge. The water is so clear it’s like glass, and if we go there, we’ll be able to see the spot. Father will have to go down into the mines with the governor of the mines, Mr. Savage, but one of the workers will take us on the river walk. They don’t mind. It’s better than carrying rocks.”
One of the ship’s lieutenants came down to tell them it was nearly time to disembark. They’d be climbing down a rope ladder from the bottom of the ship, which Cettie was excited about. There were workers gathering at the landing pad beneath them, many with shovels and pickaxes. They were coated with gray dust and brown dirt. Shacks and dwellings, carts and wagons sprang up haphazardly around the gorge.
Cettie and Anna awaited their turn before climbing down the rope ladder. Fitzroy was already on the ground, talking to a strikingly tall young gentleman with a hawk nose and a shock of black hair riddled with stone dust, which made him look older. He had an angry look, and his eyes narrowed as the two girls approached.
“And who have we here?” he asked Fitzroy.
“That’s Mrs. Pullman’s son,” Anna whispered nervously to Cettie. “His name is Serge Pullman, but everyone calls him Mr. Savage. He yells a lot.”
Now that Cettie was closer, she could see the familial resemblance, and his brogue was similar to his mother’s. He was in his early thirties and looked as if he’d been around the mines all his life. He wore a waistcoat and high leather boots, like Fitzroy, and his collar was trussed up in a silk tie around his neck, which he tugged at with a hooked finger.
“You recognize my youngest, of course.”
“Ah. It has been some time since she’s come to Dolcoath. And is her companion the foundling? I see that it is. Mother has told me of her.” He gave Cettie a meaningful look, then turned back to Fitzroy. “The mine has run dry again, Master. I sent a man on a horse to bring you word since I wasn’t expecting you so soon. We’ve reached another dead end. That’s why so many workers are idle.”
Cettie heard her friend gasp with surprise, and her own heart flailed inside her chest. This could not be good news for Fitzroy. What if his finances took a tumble like the Hardings’ had? Why, then, would he adopt another child into the home?
Fitzroy was imperturbable. “I’ll go down with you, Mr. Savage. Let’s see how things stand. I’m glad I came.” He turned toward the girls, trying to smile kindly at them, but the look didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Anna, take Cettie on the river walk. I’m sure she’d like to see it. Is there someone who could go with them, Mr. Savage?”
“I’ll send the doctor’s lad,” Mr. Savage said. “They’ve not been as busy lately. Creigh!” He shouted the last word, and a young man of about fifteen stepped through the crowd and approached them.
He had thick brown hair and a prominent dimple on his chin. His jacket had been shed, but he still wore a tie—an ugly brown-striped affair—and the black cuff identifying him as a doctor’s assistant circled his white shirtsleeve. He was a handsome young man with a pleasant smile and kind eyes.
“Yes, Mr.
Savage?” he said, striding up. His leather boots were in tatters, and one had a gaping hole. Cettie could see a dirty sock protruding from it.
“Ah, young Adam,” Fitzroy said with an approving smile.
Cettie felt Anna’s hand squeeze her own so tightly it hurt.
Fitzroy had been clenching his hands behind his back, his palms red and irritated, but he opened his palm to gesture toward the girls.
“Would you escort these two on the river walk this afternoon? If you can spare the time?”
“Spare the time.” Mr. Savage chuffed. He gave Adam Creigh a curt nod, making it an order.
“Of course,” the young man said. He brushed his hands together, and puffs of dust came from them. Like Fitzroy, he wasn’t wearing gloves. “It would be my privilege.”
Fitzroy turned to Mr. Savage. “There haven’t been any incidents at the grotto?”
“None at all,” he replied. “And, besides, it’s still daylight.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
ADAM CREIGH
If Anna’s tightened grip on Cettie’s hand hadn’t been enough to suggest it, her complete lapse into silence the moment they started the river walk confirmed Cettie’s suspicions. Anna harbored feelings for Adam Creigh, and her natural shyness made it absolutely impossible for her to speak. That required Cettie to shoulder the burden.
She heard the river before she saw it, but as they walked along a dusty footpath where all hints of vegetation had been ground away by the constant passage of wheelbarrows, Adam stopped them at a warped wooden table on which sat several rocks gleaming with flecks of silver. He lifted one of them and handed it to Cettie.
“The mines of Dolcoath,” he said simply, angling the rock so that it caught the midafternoon sunlight. It sparkled with tiny flecks.
Cettie took it and examined it keenly. She’d never held raw silver before, or at least not the stone from which it came. “The pieces are so tiny,” she observed.
