by Jeff Wheeler
“See there!” he shouted over the roar of the wind, pointing. “Two tempests just rose from the fog after we passed by. They’re coming straight for us.”
They were, and quickly too. Cettie felt her pulse start to race. She opened her mind to the Leerings on board and ordered them to track the incoming sky ships.
“Another one just popped up ahead!” Joses shouted. “That’s three of them. Can you see the markings?”
Cettie couldn’t see that far with her natural eyes, but the Leerings on the hull were specifically designed to enhance the vision of the person piloting the ship. Their pursuers were not from the Ministry of War. They were merchant ships from the Ministry of Law. They had almost outbid War for the information from the storm glasses this time. Were they seeking revenge?
“What do we do?” Joses asked as he walked up to a bound chest and unlatched it. It was where the arquebuses were stored.
Cettie could sense the three ships rising from the fog. She needed to be sure they were truly being followed. As she climbed back up to the helmsman’s deck, she instantly changed course, increasing altitude promptly and veering away from the nearest tempest. All three sky ships responded to her maneuver and then increased their pace.
“They’re definitely following us,” Cettie cried out to Joses. She increased the speed and the rate of the ship’s ascent.
Joses clung to the railing to hold his position. Neither of them were tied on, which would limit their maneuverability.
“Think they’ll try to board us?” Joses asked.
“They’d better not,” Cettie replied angrily. She had always been powerful in the Mysteries. Once they got close enough, she could try to overwhelm their command of the Leerings on board their ships. How would they respond to that?
“Are you going to try to outrun them?” he asked.
In her mind’s eye, she remembered the storm map she’d drawn before leaving Fog Willows. There was a wall of clouds to the north, not enough to create a storm, but wide and deep enough to hide a sky ship.
“Get belowdecks,” she ordered, taking hold of the helm and pouring her thoughts into increasing the ship’s speed and height.
“What if they try to board us? I want to fight, Cettie. You can’t send me down below.”
“I’m the captain of this ship,” she insisted. “Get belowdecks.”
Joses scowled at her and went down below, slamming the door hard behind himself. Cettie felt the wind get colder as the ship rose higher. The other three tempests were coming hard in pursuit. The two from behind wouldn’t catch her, but the one ahead was in a better position. In her mind, she thought of the different geometries she had studied with Mrs. Romrell at school. No matter how high she went or how quickly, the lead ship would intercept her.
Three tempests? The Ministry of Law must be desperate for information. Well, the next time she would not let them purchase the reports at all. Let them be blind to the weather for a fortnight.
She saw the clouds in the distance, at least a league away. Her mind filled with determination as she gripped the helm. She would not be caught by these other pilots. The wind buffeted her craft, but she kept the angle sharp, watching as the lead tempest drew closer. As it closed in, she suddenly swerved the tempest around, angling it sharply the other way. She heard the noise of Joses smashing into something belowdecks. Well, better that than falling off.
The tempest below reacted to her sudden erratic move and tried to adjust, but she had already righted her ship and lunged another way, going around his ship on one side. Her maneuvers bewildered the other captain, whose thoughts she could distantly sense now that their ships were near. These ships were hostile. They might not be operating under the Ministry of Law’s official approval, but that didn’t matter to her at the moment.
Cettie’s affinity for Leerings made her piloting skills much more advanced, especially her ability to make them respond quickly and unpredictably to her demands. It gave her an edge that she had every intention to use. She wrestled with the other pilot’s mind for control of his craft and then sent it plummeting without thrust, dropping like the massive weight it was. She pulled her tempest up and vaulted again toward the clouds, still being pursued by the other two. After several moments of sheer panic, the third pilot regained control of his ship and stopped the death dive. He didn’t chase her after that.
Cettie kept her mind fixed on the clouds ahead as she raced the other two ships. They couldn’t beat her on speed, so it was just a matter of time. Her tempest entered the clouds, bucking and rocking with the windy gusts. Just as she’d hoped, the view was totally obscured. Cettie then slowed and lowered farther. The other two tempests would overshoot her and chase her blindly into the cloud bank while she dropped straight down.
A smug smile stretched over her face. In the feathery whiteness, she remembered the nickname Raj Sarin, her guardian’s bodyguard, had given her years before. Cettie Saeed.
“Cettie of the Clouds.”
CHAPTER TWO
GIMMERTON SOUGH
When Cettie spied Fog Willows from a distance, her heart surged with a thrill. She never grew tired of its grounds, the jagged rock supporting it above the green pastureland stretching in every direction beneath it. Sunlight gleamed off the tower spikes.
“How different from the Fells,” said Joses, standing near her on the helmsman’s deck. “No dark things at night. Plenty of food. What fate or chance brought us both here, I’ll never know.” His voice changed at the end. “What’s that? Is that another tempest in the landing yard?”
Cettie squinted, but he was right. There was another ship there. It wasn’t the Serpentine, Aunt Juliana’s vessel. She increased speed to get them there sooner. The manor was her responsibility, after all, and no guests were expected.
“I recognize it,” Joses said, his vision sharper than hers. “It’s the Gladdings’ ship. Phinia is back.”
A feeling of unease seeped into Cettie’s gut. Again, she hadn’t heard about an impending visit. Not that Phinia and her husband wouldn’t be welcome; it was just unexpected—and the unexpected always put Cettie on her guard.
“Did you know they were coming?” Joses asked, glancing at her. He observed her face for a moment and nodded. “Why do you think they came?”
“I have no idea,” Cettie answered. The manor loomed before them as their tempest raced toward it. How long had Phinia and Malcolm been there? Had they timed their visit purposefully so Cettie would be gone?
Cettie landed the tempest in a hurry. After securing the mooring ropes, she dropped the rope ladder and hastened down to the yard, leaving Joses to collect their things. Due to her position as keeper, she had unlimited access to the manor’s Control Leering, kept behind locked doors, which meant she had the use of every Leering in Fog Willows—each of which could be used to directly connect to the Control Leering. As she walked, she invoked the Control Leering to determine where the visitors were. The Gladdings had brought Stephen, Fitzroy’s eldest, who now managed the family mines in Dolcoath. And true to form, they were dancing to music in the study as if they were youngsters again.
Stephen’s presence was highly unusual, as his duties at the mine required his near-constant presence. No doubt he was here to enact some scheme he’d concocted with his sister.
Servants opened the door, and the aging butler, Kinross, came shuffling down the corridor toward her. He’d been in service to the family for many years. Mrs. Pullman, the former keeper, had wrested much of the power of his office from him, but Cettie had come to rely on him over the years. They were friends who shared the burdens of household management equally. He was loyal to the Fitzroy family and had a soft spot in his heart for the youngest, Anna.
“Mistress Cettie,” he said, shaking his head and trying to catch his breath. He put his hand on his lower back and winced. “I’m glad you are back. No doubt you saw the Gladdings’ tempest in the yard?”
“How long have they been here?”
“They arrived shortly after you left for Lockhaven. They’ve been here three days. I assume you didn’t know they were coming, because you didn’t mention it before you left.”
“I didn’t know,” Cettie said, a little flustered. “They’re in the study?”
She started to walk that way, and he fell in beside her. “Oh yes. They’ve done a few jaunts and made a few visits, but they’ve mostly kept to the manor. All the neighborhood is abuzz. Gimmerton Sough has been leased. They came bearing the news.”
“Leased? You mean the Hardings aren’t returning?”
“No, ma’am. The Lawtons have leased it to a brother-and-sister pair, the Patchetts. Their father was an admiral who died at the battle of Dochte. He did not name either of his children heirs to his fortune but instead put them in wardship to his steward, Mr. Batewinch. The deed is in the steward’s name.”
“So they’re children?” Cettie asked.
“Not at all, ma’am. The sister, Joanna, is twenty. The brother, Randall, is slightly older.”
“Neither was chosen to inherit, even though they’re both adults?”
“That is correct, ma’am. Seems unnatural, if you ask me.”
“Thank you for the information, Mr. Kinross.”
“One more thing before you go in,” he said, touching her sleeve as she was about to open the door. She paused and looked quizzically at him. “They’ll be ambushing you, Mistress Cettie. Their minds are fixed on having a ball here at Fog Willows to welcome the new pair. The master wouldn’t approve, and though they’ve been working on her these last few days, neither does the mistress.”
“Nor will I,” she answered, giving him a reassuring smile. Then she steeled herself and opened the door to the sound of music.
It was the middle of “Genny’s Market.” Stephen was dancing with Phinia, and Anna danced with Phinia’s husband, Malcolm. Lady Maren, who was watching them with an indulgent smile, was the first to notice Cettie. She rose from her couch to come greet her with a hug and kiss.
“Now all my children are home,” she said, pleased, taking Cettie’s hands. Though Cettie appreciated the sentiment, she had a notion the eldest children had only come to cause trouble. “How did the business go in Lockhaven?”
“The transaction went through. I had a little trouble trying to leave. Three merchant vessels threatened us.”
Lady Maren’s brow pinched in worry. “They wouldn’t have dared if it were Brant,” she said in an angry undertone.
“Well, they didn’t succeed,” Cettie answered. “We escaped into a cloud bank and lost them there.” That reminded her. Reaching with her mind, she activated the manor’s Control Leering, instructing it to alert her of any approaching sky ships and to forbid any visitors from landing without approval from her.
“I’m glad you’re safe, dearest. I can sense you are already at work making us safer.” She pulled up her sleeve and exposed the gooseflesh there. “Your abilities have only grown stronger.”
Cettie didn’t reply, for the music had ended, and Anna was rushing forward to give her a hug. Phinia, Malcolm, and Stephen all remained behind.
“You’re back!” Anna said, squeezing her. “Have you heard the news? Gimmerton Sough is occupied again. It’s a brother and sister . . . our age! Isn’t that wonderful?”
“I’ve only just heard about it,” Cettie said. She hugged Anna back. The youngest Fitzroy had passed the Test at Muirwood the previous year and returned home. Several young men had sought to court her, but she was waiting for Adam Creigh to return from the war and had rebuffed all the others. Cettie hadn’t told her almost-sister that Adam had left a precious book with her—a notebook filled with his thoughts and observations—which she looked at every night. A bit of lavender was crushed in the pages, making it even more precious. If he had left such a token with Anna, Cettie was convinced her sweet sister would have told everyone straightaway. She kept silent to preserve Anna’s feelings. And because she wanted to savor it for herself.
“You’ve returned,” Phinia said with a haughty manner. She hooked arms with her husband, who hadn’t cared in the least that she’d failed the final Test at Muirwood. Malcolm was a doughy young man who had an ample fortune of his own, which he’d gladly amplified with Phinia’s dowry. He was a reckless young man in his business dealings, but kindhearted and immune to his wife’s teasing. He had curly brown hair and an easy laugh and smile.
Stephen had grown much in the last three years. His shoulders were broader, and all the young ladies swooned over his handsome looks, but his gray eyes were flecked with anger. He resented his appointment to Dolcoath and never attempted to disguise how much he loathed working there.
“Welcome back, Cettie,” Stephen said.
“What are you doing here?” Cettie asked him warily.
“This is my home,” he said with a snort. “I have every right to be here.”
“That’s not what she meant, Stephen,” Lady Maren said with a sigh.
Cettie knew how painful it was to Lord and Lady Fitzroy that their eldest child and only son had rebuffed their efforts to train him in the family business. She didn’t want Lady Maren to feel forced to defend her.
“What I meant, Stephen,” Cettie said firmly, “is that you’re supposed to be running the mines.”
“I left them in very capable hands, Sister,” he said, with an edge to the endearment. “More experienced than my own at any rate. They are running well and producing on schedule. You needn’t fret.”
“Milk and I stopped by to see him and share the good news,” Phinia said. Cettie hated the nickname Phinia had given her husband, which seemed intentionally demeaning. He didn’t seem to mind it at all, however, and smiled whenever she used it. “I asked him to come back with me, so if you want to blame anyone, Cettie, blame me. It’s lonely there in the mines.” She rubbed her brother’s shoulder sympathetically. “And we’ll take him back after the ball. I know how much you hate to travel, but I adore it.”
Cettie’s brow furrowed.
“Yes, we’re holding a ball,” Stephen said, hands on his hips. “To welcome the Patchetts. Father used to invite the Hardings all the time. How can we make friends with our new neighbors without being friendly? We have the finest manor in the area. We should be the first to send our goodwill. I think next midweek would be soon enough?” He looked at Phinia for her reaction.
“That would suit nicely. Next midweek it is.”
So they were testing her. Testing her authority, testing her will. Cettie had never shied away from uncomfortable situations. She wasn’t about to start now.
“That’s out of the question,” Cettie said firmly, shaking her head.
Stephen’s cheeks flushed with heat. Cettie wondered if he might appeal to his mother, but that would make him seem weak, and he wouldn’t lower himself in front of anyone. His fists clenched. “It’s just one little party, Sister. How many times have we gone to them at the Hardings’? Why make a fuss about it?”
“Because Father never allowed balls to be held here before the war,” Cettie answered firmly. “I shouldn’t have to remind you of that, Stephen. It’s a liberty, and he wouldn’t approve.”
His arms trembled with fury. His eyes flashed hot. “If I want to have a ball here, I shall have one.” She could feel him pushing his will on hers, attempting to dominate her. Given the things she’d faced, it felt like a child pushing against a heavy door.
Cettie took a step toward him. “Not until you are lord of this house, Stephen Fitzroy. Father would be disappointed you’re even demanding it.”
“He is not . . . your . . . father!” Stephen snarled.
It was a deliberate thrust, meant to cause her pain. Her own anger was beginning to flare, but she ruled her emotions better than he did. She stood firm, even when she heard Anna stifle a sob.
“But he will be,” Lady Maren said forcefully, coming up and putting her arm around Cettie’s shoulder. “And she has as much right to use the title as you do, Stephen. S
on, you are making a fool out of yourself. I don’t approve of holding a ball either.”
“You didn’t resist it when we suggested it yesterday!”
“Silence does not mean consent,” Lady Maren said, shaking her head. “If wishes were zephyrs, even beggars would fly.”
“Am I a beggar, then?” Stephen railed. “I’m your son. I cannot believe you are taking her side over mine. How will I ever learn to rule a household unless I am given the opportunity to practice? To learn for myself? Even Gladding here has more authority than I do. His mother never prevents him from using what is his. Phinia has access to her inheritance, and no doubt Anna will get that privilege before I do. I’m the eldest!”
“Son,” Lady Maren said, shaking her head.
“I’m an exile from my own family,” Stephen barked. “Because of her.” He stabbed his finger at Cettie. “I wish you’d never left the Fells.”
His words hurt her. They were meant to, and he’d clearly longed to say them for some time. They also hurt others. Anna’s sniffles had turned to sobs, and even Phinia looked shocked. Malcolm fidgeted, an embarrassed smile twitching on his mouth.
“That was beneath your dignity, Son,” Lady Maren said, her voice throbbing with emotion. “And ungrateful. Without Cettie, we wouldn’t have any of this.”
“Spare me another lecture, Mother,” Stephen said in a low, dead voice. “It’s your fault she’s here too. I think we’ve wasted enough treasure on trying to find her polluted parentage. She’s a keeper of the house. What higher honor could be afforded to one of her station? But no, she’ll not be satisfied until she’s wrested it all away. Every last farthing.” His lip twitched. “I just wanted a little ball. A chance to make merry with friends I’ve not seen since you made me a slave at the mines.” He shook his head, his thoughts clearly jumbled. “Take it all away. My inheritance. I don’t care. You don’t think I’m fit to have it anyway.”
Then he turned and stormed out of the room.
