Imprudence (43 page)

Quesnel sipped, making a face, but his colour improved. “What do you mean… ? Oh, I forgot. Metanaturals can perform exorcisms.”

“I've never done it, but I understand that's the theory.”

“Go down. Talk to them. See what they say. It should be his choice. He has given your family many years of service, in one form or another. Perhaps he wants to rest now.”

Rue made certain Quesnel had his bullhorn within reach, so if he wanted to yell instructions at Aggie he could, and climbed down the spiral stairs.

The boiler room was a hive of activity as sooties, greasers, and firemen worked to keep the ship steady despite the loss of helium and the low altitude. Aggie was busy barking orders and ignoring Rue, which suited them both. They were still in the air and that was saying something. Rue felt no need to interfere.

In the far corner, near Quesnel's tank, Anitra was on her knees next to her dead grandfather. Or adopted grandfather. Not that the particulars mattered. Rue always felt as if Dama were her blood relation, adopted or no, and she knew how awful she would feel if he died.

Floote's wrinkled face was as impassive in death as it had been in life. Up from his body, in a silver wispy thread, came a long faint shimmering mist. It was struggling to coalesce into a proper ghostly form. It was amorphous. Floote needed to remember what he looked like in life.

Then, as if being dead were a momentary lapse, like forgetting how to spell a word, Formerly Floote popped into non-existence. He looked, Rue figured, as he might have appeared when he was valet to her grandfather, younger, old-fashioned clothing. Obviously, his clearest memory of himself was from that point in his life.

The ghost looked around. He took in Anitra's crumpled form and then glanced thoughtfully at Rue. She kept herself well away, not wanting to risk contact with his body lest she sever his tether and with it his last connection to the mortal plane.

“Odd sensation.” His voice had a new breathy component, which was weird considering there was no breath at all behind it.

He seemed more animated as a ghost, but still nondescript, wearing the ghostly representation of valet clothing from sixty years ago. Rue wondered if he had been less reserved back then and sobered over the years, or if he simply conceived himself as more lively than he actually was.

“Formerly Floote.” Rue gave him the honour of his new title. “You are not bound to stay if you do not wish it. I can see you released.”

Formerly Floote sighed. Wisps of himself shifted with an imagined breath. “There is much still unfinished. I believe I should like to stay a little longer. But not to poltergeist. That is too undignified an end.”

Rue was relieved. “We have the tank for you. You could keep preserved quite a long time in that, if you like. Otherwise, the moment we hit aether, you would, uh, cease.”

Formerly Floote rotated slowly in the air, to look at the tank behind him. “Ah. Was this Madame Lefoux's idea, or Lady Maccon's, or your young man's?”

“Lord Akeldama's.”

“I should have known. It was meant for me all along?”

“He thinks I need you.”

He drifted a bit from side to side. “And do you?”

He had known, back on the deck, of her cousin's soullessness. He had known, with the Drifters, how to negotiate for help. He had told her some of her mother's history. He had more to tell about her grandfather's. And, quite frankly, Rue liked him. He was calming. Not a lot of people in her life were. He seemed like the kind of man who needed to be needed, even if he was dead.

“Yes.” Rue raised her chin. “I rather suspect I do need you.”

“Then I'll stay.” There was no hesitation in Formerly Floote's voice. His posture was perfectly straight. He was already focused on stopping a propensity to waft.

With Rue unable to touch the body, they had to get Aggie to help load it into the tank. She wasn't as awful as she could have been, for Anitra's sake. Even Aggie had sympathies for the bereaved.

“I don't know about leaving him to haunt us all down here,” she did grumble at Rue.

“We'll figure out a better spot,” Rue assured her calmly. “I'll want to make certain his tether stretches to most of the ship, so he has freedom of movement. It'll probably involve moving the tank.”

Aggie frowned. “We going to have some floaty wafting into our private quarters of an evening?”

“I'm sure Formerly Floote will respect everyone's privacy. Miss Phinkerlington, do you think you might save your ire, just this once, for a later date? Say, tomorrow afternoon? I promise I will come back and you can rail at me all you like.”

“Promise?”

Rue nodded.

“Oh very well, then, puff off.”

Rue puffed.

Abovedecks, not a great deal had changed. They were still at an impasse. The Italian was tied up and locked in the stateroom with his best men, but no one else could really go anywhere, either. The remaining dirigibles were floating out of range, watching and waiting. They'd gone down to retrieve their fallen comrades. Decklings reported that the downed Drifter family had made their way to the werecat's island, where they had disappeared beneath, presumably into the reluctant care of the still hidden Daughters of Sekhmet.

Anitra followed Rue up the main stairs. Her pretty round face was soot-stained and tear-streaked. She managed some handkerchief communication, which informed them that the crashed Drifter ship changed matters. They now couldn't decide whether to stay and help or go and leave these foreigners to deal with their own mess.

Anitra rubbed at her face with one of the handkerchiefs. “They feel their agreement with you is concluded but they also feel a historical obligation to the Daughters.”

Rue sighed. “We have a bigger problem. Even if we could get away, the
Custard
doesn't have enough helium to attain aether. I'd risk an uncharted current at this juncture, but we can't even try. We're pipped.”

Tasherit squinted. “I might be able to help there but it'll take Queen Henuttawy's approval. She's difficult to persuade. Especially by me. Anitra, you know much of the history of our people, and you are connected to Lady Prudence's history as well. Would you consider talking to her?”

Anitra's eyes shone. “Meet the lost pride? I would be honoured.”

“Very well, then, Captain, if I may be excused?”

Rue inclined her head. If Tasherit really thought the werecats could help, Rue couldn't think of a better plan. “Very well. But please be careful and try not to get them any more angry with you.”

Miss Sekhmet transformed into a lioness and Anitra, cautiously, took a seat astride her back.

Tasherit padded to the edge of the deck and leapt over the rail, coming to land, bouncing lightly, on the island below. The two disappeared beneath.

Rue wasn't sure what to expect. What would be the sign of a successful negotiation? Lioness warriors appearing atop the island? The deployment of a massive weapon of some ancient and exotic type?

Fifteen minutes later, what she got was the most remarkable thing she had ever seen in her life. And Rue had once witnessed a whole party of American tourists actually refuse to drink tea, in a London teahouse, so that's saying something.

The island below them took flight.

Percy swore and kicked up the propeller to get
The
Spotted Custard
out of the way or the darn thing would have crashed into them.

Narrowly missing a collision, they puttered out of danger as the massive thing took to the skies. Whatever had fastened the island to the bottom of the lake not only held it floating on water, but had held it fast to the earth as well. Cut free, the island lifted up, dripping long strands of vegetation, and mud, and a few surprised guppies.

Thus the island revealed itself to be a massive airship, larger than any dirigible Rue had ever seen. Ten times as big as the biggest of Queen Victoria's troop transport floatillah. As big as a whole city block or a small hamlet. The island top bulged, not just one balloon, but multiples, rammed together, like a bouquet of marigolds. Only they were all brown and dirty. So it was more like a bouquet of cow muffins.

It rose up in majestic steadiness. It wasn't using heat like a hot air balloon; this airship was helium-filled – a very great deal of helium. Ropes kept the bouquet attached to what had once been underwater living accommodations. These dripped and stretched and held until the whole thing plucked itself out of the water, like a water lily. It was amazing. No less so for the reality of the fact now facing them – a pride of lionesses had lived underwater for decades and were now taking to the skies.

Rue grabbed a spyglass to look in wonder at the amazing craft.

The upper deck – which had likely rested directly above water level, hidden by the trailing vines – was occupied by a pack of people. Strong-looking women in filmy draped gowns strode about manning the airship, Olympian goddesses acting the part of decklings. That must be the pride. There were others with them – Chosen Ones, Tasherit had called them – the werecat version of clavigers. The mortals who hitched their lives to the Daughters of Sekhmet, sink or fly. Rue spotted the fallen Drifter family helping to crew the massive airship.

Rue saw Tasherit, pacing the deck nearest to them, waiting for the opportunity to leap. Anitra was riding her. The Drifter girl had a long tube tucked under one arm. It stretched up to one of the massive balloons above, like a sipping straw.

“Percy, bring us about and nudge towards them. We have friends who want to return home. I think they bring a gift.”

From the crow's nest, Rue heard the call. One of her decklings was still doing his duty – keeping eyes to the enemy and not focusing on the behemoth next to them.

“Hostile dirigibles are fleeing, Lady Captain. They don't fancy going up against that beauty.”

Rue put down the glass. “I don't blame them.” She couldn't see any weapons on the werecat's ship, but that didn't mean there were none. Immortals were usually prepared for combat. Even her Dama, who mostly fought with words, was a dab hand with a war scythe when he was in the mood.

Rue moved to the forecastle to confirm. The enemy was indeed speeding away, puffing up as fast as possible, until they were mere specks. Eventually they blinked out, jumping into the aetherosphere and damn the consequences of uncharted currents.

Rue let out a low whistle. “Guess we now have prisoners rather than hostages in our stateroom.”

Percy held them steady as the cumbersome former island nudged in close.

Rue strode the length of her ship, across the main deck, avoiding the scampering decklings; those who weren't transfixed by the monstrosity next to them were still clearing away crashed ornithopter guts.

Rue jumped up to the quarterdeck and from there to the poop deck, coming to stop next to Percy, Primrose, and the helm.

“They don't have flapper rudders or propellers.” She handed Percy a spyglass but they were too close for him to really confirm her assessment.

Percy waved the looker away. “Big and unwieldy, I understand.”

“Bring us in as near as possible.”

Percy bit his lip, sweating slightly, but did as instructed.

Primrose flipped her glassicals up. “She can't really be considering what I think she's considering.” She looked to Rue for support.

Rue gave one of her maniacal grins. “Cats can jump pretty far.”

“That's insane.” Prim let out a little shriek of awe and fear as Tasherit took a running start and then leapt with a gloriously amazing flex of muscles from the long low deck of that ancient watery craft to the new, if damaged, main deck of
The
Spotted Custard
.

The lioness slid quite a bit on landing, almost skidding right over the opposite side, where the railing no longer existed due to crashing ornithopters.

Anitra, much to everyone's amazement, managed to keep hold of the tube from the bigger ship, as well as her own seat on the werecat's back. When Rue ran to meet them, however, it was less impressive. She'd been strapped on.

“Here.” Anitra handed Rue the tube. It was capped off and very light, seeming to want to float away.

Rue wrapped both arms around it lovingly.
Helium!

“Helium,” Anitra explained unnecessarily, on a gasp of breath. She was drawn with fear, tear tracks still visible on her face, brown eyes wide with awe at her own daring. “They have plenty. Turns out they've been mining vast parts of Africa for years. Then hoarding the helium here.”

She untied herself while Rue issued orders to deckhands, and deckhands to decklings to get their squeaker straw hooked into the helium port above.

“Make certain those patches hold.” Rue wasn't about to outgas such a precious resource again.

The crew hopped to with renewed energy. It had been a long night. Everyone was starting to flag a bit, but this was beyond exciting, and resources were resources.