Sky Pirates

by Liesel Schwarz

  She counted them off in her mind, trying to recall their faces as she always did. She needed to remember their faces. There were the two men she had shot in cold blood in Battersea Park. Then there were the dozens of alchemists and nightwalkers who died in Constantinople. Patrice. She did not want to think about Patrice right now. Then there was La Dame Blanche, whom she had beheaded, although she was not entirely sure that the witch could be counted as a person, given that she was more monster than human.

  But worst of all, she had killed Marsh.

  The thought sent another spasm of grief through her. Not a day went by when she did not blame herself for leaving him, and the terrible things she had said to him. Had she not left her husband in a huff that day, he would never have met with Commissioner Willoughby. He would never have gone in search of the Duke of Malmesbury’s son, and had he not gone in search of the missing man, he would never have ended up in the clutches of the evil Lady in White.

  Elle could not deny that slicing La Dame Blanche’s head off had given her some measure of pleasure, but once the heat of the quest for revenge had cooled, the fact remained that she was nothing more than a bitter woman with blood on her hands. So much blood.

  The saddest part of it all was that the violence and the bloodshed seemed so utterly pointless when viewed against the one true tragedy of her life. In the end, Marsh had chosen to leave her. He could have stayed. They could have fought to find a way to break the curse, but he had taken the decision to leave her and stepped through the barrier into the world of Shadow. It was such a small thing, that step, but it had shattered her heart completely.

  As much as she hated to admit it, Dashwood was right. She had become a recluse. She had avoided everything and everyone who had reminded her of that awful time. She had been extremely efficient at pushing everyone away until they were all gone. She even pushed away Gertrude, whom she had known for only a short time and who wanted nothing more than to be her friend. With the Water Lily gone, what else was there left for her in this world, she wondered?

  The answer was only emptiness.

  She sat up and rubbed her face. Despite the fact that she had been cooped up in this little cabin for days, she was unbearably tired. It was the kind of weariness that no amount of sleep could cure.

  Perhaps it was time to move on. Perhaps joining this crew was her chance to try something new. Perhaps a change in environment might help her find her way back to the world. Not permanently, mind you. These pirates were far too rough and unpleasant for any long-term commitment. But they would do for a little while—at least until she was ready to move on.

  Yes, that’s what she’d do. She would pretend to be a pirate. She would bide her time until they trusted her. She would use that time to plan her next steps. Of course, she would have to find a way to get word to her father and Mathilda. It was not fair to leave them believing she was dead. No, she would send a message as soon as Dashwood let his guard down, to let them know she was alive.

  If she played her part carefully enough, Dashwood and his crew might even let their guard down completely. And if they did, she would escape. And once she was free, she could find a way to search for the lost city.

  Elle smiled to herself. Yes, with a little luck, her plan might just work. All she had to do was bide her time. All that was needed was one unguarded moment in a port. Somewhere for her to slip away. On shore, away from this iron-boned ship, it would simply be a matter of opening up the barrier between the two worlds and slipping away. They wouldn’t even know she was gone.

  Dashwood was wrong. She did have a choice.

  She stood and stretched. Outside, the blanket of clouds below was turning soft shades of lavender-gray, not unlike the feathers on a pigeon’s breast. The sun would rise soon. It was a strange thing, the sun at this altitude, she thought. Strange because the sun always shone up here, no matter how hard it rained on the ground.

  Elle rubbed her arms to warm herself from the chilly air that seeped in through the seams and rivets of the ship.

  She nodded to herself slowly. She would give Dashwood her answer today. Yes, it was time to start living again.

  CHAPTER 11

  It was Heller who came when she banged on the door of her cabin and called to be let out.

  This morning he was dressed in a magnificent leather waistcoat. The expanse of leather would probably have been big enough to be a coat on any lesser man, but on Heller it just about covered his barrel chest and belly. The waistcoat was adorned with all manner of shiny things sewn onto the leather in a pattern. There were coins, some of them gold; silver pins; and in one or two places, Elle could have sworn she spotted jewels—a ruby earring winked at her from the breast pocked, a diamond cravat pin sparkled in one of the buttonholes. This tinkling garment of shiny things must be Heller’s pride and joy, she noted. An outward expression of his success as a pirate.

  Heller gave her a quizzical look, his sharp black eyes missing nothing.

  “I’d like to see the captain, please,” she said.

  “As you wish. But I must warn you, he’s not a morning person.”

  “I don’t care. I must see him without delay.”

  Heller shrugged and stood aside to let her walk in front of him along the narrow walkway.

  Elle did not stand on ceremony. She knew the way now and she started marching off toward the captain’s chambers, as Heller stumbled to keep up with her. She had things to say and she wanted to say them before she lost her nerve.

  The captain’s quarters were deserted when she arrived. A whiskey glass sat on the desk where it waited patiently to be cleared away. Without pausing for breath, she pushed through the set of louvered doors that led to his private berth.

  Dashwood was in his singlet and trousers. Behind him was an unmade bunk, the pillow still holding the indentation from where he had slept.

  He looked up from the washbasin, where he was busy brushing his teeth, with a look of mild surprise.

  The sight of him in such a private setting made her reel, and she almost ran back the way she came, but he spoke before she could.

  “Mrs. Marsh! Good morning,” he said, placing his toothbrush on the washstand.

  Her eyes were drawn to the little black amulet that hung around his neck, suspended from a strip of worn leather. It was infused with the power of the Shadow, and while she wasn’t entirely sure how it worked, she knew it allowed him to sense people’s thoughts. It was a handy trinket to own, for it made him an infallible poker player. Fortunately, she had noticed what he was up to when they had met in Amsterdam, so she had been shielding herself from him ever since. The amulet must have been rendered useless by the iron in the ship, she thought, for she had not sensed it before now.

  “And to what do I owe this early and rather unexpected visit?” he said.

  She stood before him and placed her hands on her hips. “You asked for my answer today and so I shall give it to you.”

  He folded his arms over his chest. “And what might that be?” he said.

  “It is yes. My answer is yes.”

  “Well that is indeed good news.” He stuck out his hand and she took it. He had a firm grip and he held her smaller hand in his with confidence. “I welcome you to the crew of the Inanna.”

  “Thank you,” she said with more enthusiasm than she felt. “Where do I sign?”

  Dashwood gave her one of his lazy smiles. “Here, a man or a woman’s word is their bond. You signed when you shook on it.”

  “So, where do I start?” Elle said, her mind moving to matters at hand.

  Dashwood picked up a towel and wiped the small bit of tooth powder that had accumulated in the corner of his mouth. “You can start by taking out the slops,” he said, gesturing at the washbasin.

  “Slops?” She stared at him in surprise.

  “Penance for barging in on your captain unannounced,” he said. “Next time, it’s lashes.”

  Elle looked at him in surprise. “Lashes?”

 
; “Oh yes, Mrs. Marsh. I think you might find that I run a tight ship round here. And I have no compunction about dragging you over my lap and punishing you. Would you like to test me?” His expression was that of a man who was not joking, and Elle felt a shiver of apprehension run up her spine. Discipline was essential to the successful management of an airship and right now was not the time to test the mettle of her new captain. So instead, held her tongue and edged past him to retrieve the washbowl. He watched her, the amusement on his face barely hidden. She gritted her teeth and as she took up the washbasin with her head held high. He might treat her like a skivvy, and she might even have deserved it, for being so insolent, but she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter in her resolve. She would be obedient and she would earn his trust, if it was the last thing she did.

  “Very good,” Dashwood said. “And once you’re done with that, you can do the rest as well,” he said, gesturing to the bed and beyond to his open quarters. “Don’t forget the chamber pot.”

  “Aye, Captain,” she said.

  “You will find that there is no maid service on board, Mrs. Marsh. We all pitch in when it comes to cleaning.”

  “Yes, Captain.” She nodded.

  “And once you’re done here, please report to Mr. Heller so he can issue you some work overalls. This is a crew of men who know a thing or two about the world. We don’t have time for delicate sensibilities.”

  “ ‘Delicate sensibilities’?” she said.

  He gave her a sideways look. “As becoming as that corset and those jodhpurs might look on you, Mrs. Marsh, I can’t afford to have you distracting my men with your womanly wiles. You are to wear overalls that cover you at all times while you are on duty.”

  “O—Overalls?” she stammered.

  “Is that clear?”

  Elle was about to protest, but thought better of it when she saw his expression.

  “I might be able to control my own urges, but I cannot vouch for the rest of my crew. As I said, we run a tight ship, but I cannot watch everyone every minute of the day.

  “Y—You have urges?”

  It was his turn to blink and Elle watched with surprise as a wave or red briefly washed over his cheeks and the backs of his ears.

  “It’s for your own safety. And that’s an order.”

  Elle nodded. As a woman in her line of work, she was used to men leering and making the odd comment. One or two even made a pass at her in the early days of her career, but she fended them off without too much trouble. But Dashwood’s words, here in this intimate setting, cut through all her defenses, leaving her feeling most unsettled. Perhaps he was right. Being locked up alone for days had made her lower her guard. She would have to be more careful in future.

  And besides, work was likely to be messy and there would be no way to replace any of her clothes that became worn out or damaged. She would need her good clothes for the day she walked away from this ship. “Aye, Captain,” she said softly and bowed her head—the model of demure obedience.

  This seemed to placate Dashwood. He nodded with approval. “Have some breakfast and once you are done, report to the bridge.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Elle repeated.

  Dashwood smiled. “I think, Mrs. Marsh, that you will do just fine here.”

  “Please call me Elle,” she said as she left the cabin.

  The Inanna had started out with a crew of fourteen plus the captain. Now they were a skeleton crew of ten, if she included herself. Half of the crew worked the night shift, the other the day. They operated on shifts that rotated, because a ship the size of the Inanna needed round-the-clock tending.

  Most of the crew was between shifts when she entered the mess a little later that morning. She was, as ordered, dressed in her new crew overalls. They were a little too big for her and so she had rolled up the sleeves and trouser legs. She had cinched the fabric around her waist with the leather corset she normally wore over her shirts. She had also tied a brightly colored handkerchief around her head to keep her curls from falling into her face. The resulting look was far more appealing than Captain Dashwood had intended, and Elle felt rather pleased with herself when she met the crew.

  Atticus Crow grinned at her from where he was busy spooning scrambled egg into his mouth. “Ay-up, lads! Meet our newest crew member! Int she lovely?” He waved with his fork at her.

  The others turned to stare.

  Heller cleared his throat from where he had been pouring himself a cup of coffee.

  “That’s all right, Crow. Let me do the introductions,” he said.

  Heller was first mate, bosun and quarter master all rolled into one. This meant he was in charge of anything valuable, and if anything were to happen to the captain, he would take over. The men listened to him when he spoke, she noticed.

  “Now listen up,” Heller said. He paused for effect, which was a bit superfluous, given that everyone was already listening. “This lady here is going to be our new navvy pilot following the recent loss of young Wes Jones.”

  A few of the men swore and one spat on the floor.

  Elle felt her smile fade. Perhaps joining a crew after killing a whole load of them was not the smartest move.

  “Oi! I’ll have none of that!” Heller raised his voice. “Wes Jones was a good pilot, but he knew the risks when he volunteered to be part of the boarding party, same as everyone. We live as we die, without regrets.”

  “No regrets,” a few crew members mumbled.

  Heller cleared his throat. “Miss Elle over here is a pilot of renowned skill. She has the hours and you all know she was the captain of the Water Lily before she fell.”

  There were a few more mumbled comments. Heller waited for a few moments till silence fell again.

  “As I said, she will be our new navvy. We’ve made do without a navvy so far, because we’ve been laying low while we dealt with the last haul. But the fact remains that this ship can’t fly if she don’t know where she’s going, and we can’t know where we’re going without a navvy. Agreed?”

  No one said anything. Somewhere in the background one of the men burped loudly. Heller gave them a sharp look. “Captain’s orders. We are all to give her the respect a lady of her standing deserves. Right-o?”

  There was a bit more grumbling in the background, but no one objected any further.

  “What would you like us to call you?” Heller said.

  “My name is Eleanor. Elle for short,” she said.

  “That’s not a very interesting name!” one of the guys in the back called out.

  “My surname is Chance. Or it used to be,” she said.

  “Ah, better!” Heller exclaimed. “Round here we tend to have names for everyone. I think we should just call you Chance for short, eh?” He grinned at her. “What do you say?”

  “Fine by me. Chance it is,” she said with more confidence than she felt.

  “Let’s hear it for our new navvy then!” Heller said.

  There were a few reluctant cheers before everyone went back to their respective dinners or breakfasts, depending on which shift they were on.

  “Let me introduce you,” Heller said as he took Elle by the elbow.

  There was a fellow named Mick, who was apparently on the lam after escaping from a sentence he had been serving in Australia. From his grimy clothes and the myriad of gadgets he carried around strapped to his overalls it was easy to tell that he was the ship’s mechanic. Elle made a note to befriend him; she was a woman in the market for a few new gadgets.

  Then there was the ship surgeon, Dr. Mackenzie, who was Scottish, and a cook everyone called Fat Paul.

  “You would do well to keep on the good side of Fat Paul,” Heller said out the side of his mouth. “No one knows his real name, but some say that he was a cook in the kitchens of the Tsar himself. Some say he escaped execution after a whole banquet-load of guests fell ill one day. We found him in a tavern in Kiev.”

  Elle stared at Heller.

  He laughed. �
�Anyway, he’s a genius with a meat cleaver. And so as to ensure you don’t starve, you should be nice to him.” He looked her over. “You are only the size of a penny and you could do with a good feed, by the looks of you.”

  Elle nodded and smiled at Paul, who nodded back, wiped his hands on his big grease-stained canvas apron and went back to spooning large helpings of bacon onto plates.

  Atticus Crow was one of the three pilots the Inanna needed in order to remain airborne. He operated the controls to the giant spark engines that ran the thrusters which drove them forward. It was his job to control the velocity of the ship. They called him the thruster pilot.

  The other pilot was a thin, humorless man named Mr. John Kipper. He wore his shirts immaculately starched, with the collars buttoned up as high as they could go. He operated the complex sets of tanks, valves and recyclers that filled and emptied the cavernous helium gas chambers which kept the ship afloat. He was called the altitude pilot and it was his job to ensure that the ship ascended and descended safely.

  The remaining two crewmen were brothers, Elias and Finn, who were both freebooters. They were called all-rounders because they could do almost anything on board. They had left the American South to find adventure. Normally the ship would carry four freebooters, but given that two had recently departed this world, only Elias and Finn remained, and they seemed the most unhappy about Elle’s appearance.

  The third pilot needed to fly the ship was the navigator pilot. The person stood at the helm and made sure that the ship stayed on course. To Elle’s surprise, once they left the mess, Heller guided her to the steering panel on the bridge and started explaining the intricacies of the ship’s navigational system to her.

  Captain says that you are supposed to be good with maps. At least that’s what he’s been told.” Heller gestured to the panel. “Best we point her in the right direction.”

  “Right then,” Elle said, scanning the charts before her. From a cursory glance it looked as if they were somewhere above the Atlantic Ocean.

  “Say, where did you say we were going?” she asked Heller.