Chasing the Lantern (7 page)

Something is wrong,
he realized. Fengel's thieves fell back, hands up to ward him away. Mordecai paused to breathe and take in the situation around him. Konrad and the others spread out, quieting as they followed his lead, becoming aware of something...off.

The enemy crew were a motley lot, more a gang of dockside scum rather than any real group of pirates. They stared at Natasha's Reavers in surprise and fear. Not a one bore a weapon. Instead they all held mops, brooms, and buckets. Sudsy water made the deck slick and reflective where the light of the moon peeked past the gas-bag frame above.

"Where is he?" shouted Mordecai. He wheeled. "Show yourself, Lucian! Where are you, you tricksy bastard?" A sea of frightened faces stared back at him. Mordecai stalked over and grabbed one of the dock scum by his shirt. "I saw him drop down here. Where's Lucian Thorne?"

The terrified dockworker sputtered. "I don't know! He just ran past, said we should get started. But we waited until the pistol shot! Just like he said!"

Mordecai backhanded the man with the basket hilt of his cutlass. Blood and teeth flew through the air. "Keep talking! I—"

"What, by the Goddess' teats, is going on here?" Natasha stormed onto the deck of the
Copper Queen,
the rest of their crew behind her. She glared about, hair frazzled, and stalked over to Mordecai, stumbling along the way. "Mordecai, what are you doing on my father's ship?"

Blast and damnation.
His captain drank heavily. Unfortunately, that also meant that she had quite a capacity for drink. She was still walking, and talking, when anyone else would be unconscious. Or dead. "These scags were trying to steal Euron's ship," he growled.

"No!" howled the bleeding man in Mordecai's grasp. "It was a present!" He fell to his knees before Natasha, sobbing now.

"Captain!" yelled Konrad.

Natasha held up a hand to her navigator, not looking at him. She glared at the man Mordecai held. "One at a time, damn you all! I'm still rather tipsy." She pointed at the pirate before her. "You," she said, finger wavering slightly. "What do you mean?"

"It was supposed to be a present!" he sobbed. "Fengel's man came down to the bar, said he needed some men for a surprise on behalf of Fengel for his wife. Paid us a silver apiece to come up here and clean ol' Euron's ship. We, we just had to wait until we heard the pistol shot. So's he could time it right. That's all I know, I swear! It was just supposed to be a present."

Natasha stared. Then realization struck her. "
Fengel?
she cried. "Fengel's behind this? That doesn't make any sense. The man wouldn't give me anything unless it was poisonous and had teeth like knives!"

"Actually Captain," said Mordecai, "I think he had a plan to steal the
Queen,
but this doesn't—"

"Captain!" yelled Konrad again. "First mate! Look!"

Heat burned in Mordecai's breast. How dare the navigator interrupt him. And in front of Natasha! He dropped the sniveling dockworker at his feet and formed a fist. Looking up toward the navigator, he stared.

Konrad wasn't even looking him, or Natasha. He had crossed to the rail of the ship and peered out up beyond the gasbag. Other crewmen were pointing at something, as well as some of the 'cleaners' involved in Lucian's plot. Mordecai glanced over at Natasha. She met his gaze and the both of them ran to the railing.

The
Dawnhawk
was leaving. People scurried about its deck and gasbag in a flurry of activity. The mooring lines were already cut and the ship floated free on the breeze. It rose above the Skydocks, steam puffing from the exhaust-pipes at the rear of the vessel and taking direction as the propellers began to spin. A single figure stood at the helm near the stern.

"My ship!" cried Natasha.

The figure moved to the railing and waved down at them. From where he stood, Mordecai could see the tricorn hat and heavy officer's coat. Moonlight glimmered for a moment, reflected, as if from a pair of spectacles. Or a monocle.

"My ship!" cried Natasha again. "You whoreson bastard! Give me back my ship!" She erupted into a torrent of emotion, a stunning string of profanity that blanched the faces of the hardened pirates around her and even gave Mordecai pause.

He yelled orders at the crew to run back up to the
Dawnhawk's
pier. Even as they ran off he knew it would be too late. He turned back to his captain. "Lucian Thorne is still somewhere on this ship. Or in town. He can't have gotten far."

Natasha wheeled on him, eyes half-mad, panting from lack of breath. "But that bastard husband of mine has my
ship!
" she screamed in his face.

"And we will get it back," he vowed. "Because I know where they are going."

His captain glared. "Search the deck from bilge to the bags," she yelled to her crew. "Tie these sorry bastards up somewhere I can interrogate them properly. And you," she said, pointing to Mordecai, "tell me everything that you know."

Mordecai took a calming breath, and did so.

Chapter Four

Is this supposed to be my new home?

Flying on a real airship was nothing like Lina had expected. Her flight from Triskelion on their makeshift conveyance had been a dicey and terrifying experience, as the vessel seemed constantly about to crash into the sea, which it finally had. The
Dawnhawk
was altogether different. It rocked gently but solidly beneath her feet, its deck swaying left and then right at irregular intervals, prodded along by the whim of the wind. The sensation was strange, similar and yet altogether different from travelling a seagoing ship upon the open ocean. These incongruities surprised her, kept her from any easy acclimation. And there were others. It was quiet. No waves crashed against the hull, and no seabirds screamed. While the wind still whistled over the deck and the wood of the vessel creaked, these were hushed, small sounds.

"A bit different, eh?" asked Henry Smalls.

Lina turned. The ship's steward walked up to where she stood in the middle of the deck. His bulldog features were still drawn with fatigue, but she sensed enthusiasm and energy from him.

"Very," she said with a nod. "Quieter, too."

Though different, the airship still had much in common with a normal seagoing vessel. Its deck was long and flat, hanging parallel below the gas-bag frame above. There was a bow and a stern, but neither end rose up in a forecastle or stern deck; the whole ship was uniformly flat from end to end. Three hatches led down below: a large one for cargo in the middle, and two smaller openings placed fore and aft for crew use. Low, flat equipment lockers were placed between the hatches, like wardrobes set on their sides. From thick rings bolted along the gunwales, rigging and cable work rose up the way they did on any sail ship. But there the similarities ended.

The gas-bag frame hung two dozen feet above the deck, a fixed axis tethering the vessel to the sky. The ropes and cables anchored to eyebolts extruded from the fabric along the ribs of the frame while ratlines and other rigging crawled up out of sight above. Along the deck lay two thick pipes, one on each side of the ship, parallel along the gunwales. They were anchored up near the bow and ran back out past the stern, blowing exhaust. Mounted along their tops and to the railing were complex chain link mechanisms connected to strange half-sails attached along the outer hull of the ship. The sails were folded now like a lady's fan, their cloth shimmering strangely in the pre-dawn light. Mixed in with them near the stern were more gearwork and the wide propellers that pushed the vessel along. The ship's wheel sat amidst all this near the stern, remarkably normal, save a large gearbox rising up beside it.

Darkness dominated beyond the borders of the airship. Lina hadn't been brave enough to approach the railings yet, to catch a glimpse of the Copper Isles, which she knew would be spread out far below. Instead she stood atop the closed cargo hatch. Until now her only company had been a skeleton shift of the more rested and able hands. Their theft successful, Fengel had reinstated Henry as acting first mate, given orders to the few hands hale enough to maintain the ship, then gone with the others below to rest. Presumably Henry knew where they were going. Though exhausted, Lina was too unsettled by the strangeness of the ship and her place upon it to sleep. She settled for staying out of the way, watching. But as dawn approached she moved up and down the deck, trying to understand the world she found herself in.

"That's the gulls yer missing," said Henry. "Those vermin are everywhere, even followed us in that damned longboat. They'll do the same up here, but it's early still. Once things warm up a bit the pests will be screaming and shitting everywhere. When you get put to work atop the frame you'll have your fill of them; that's where they go to roost when it's quiet. The little freeloaders like to hitch a ride." He sighed. "What are you doing here, lass?"

She frowned at him. "Wasn't sure where I should sleep. Or if I should be or not."

"Not that. Why did you tag along back in Triskelion? This is a hard life, lass. Not like in the penny plays."

Lina sighed. "Ever slept with a man for money, Mister Smalls?"

Henry blinked. "Can't say that I have."

"Well, I have. And there's only three ways you end up. Dead, diseased, or acting the madame yourself. I figured that I'd rather try my hand at piracy."

"We don't end much differently."

"Maybe not," agreed Lina, "but at least I get the chance to fly." Beneath them the deck swayed as a strong crosswind pushed at them. "Though I'm not sure what I think about that, now that I'm here."

Both fell silent, looking out at the gloom beyond the ship. To the east rose a faint glow, herald of the coming sun.

"Well," said Henry after a few minutes. "You stayed up all night, so you'll be on the evening shift under Gunny Lome. You'll sleep and go to mess with her crew. She'll show you the ropes. Aft deck just below has got cots, that's where you'll sleep."

Lina relaxed. She was seriously considering laying down out of the way on the deck somewhere.

"But, I can't let you go just yet," continued Henry. "Got a job needs doing, and you happen to be free."

Lina blinked. "I'm not my best at the moment."

"Shouldn't take long. Come along now."

The acting mate led her back to the rear hatchway. Lina followed him down to the deck below, a tight corridor dotted with doorways to either side. At the far end she spied a wider, open space full of swaying hammocks and snoring pirates. Henry led her back away to where the corridor ended at a heavy metal door, then banged upon it twice.

"Just do whatever he says," said Henry Smalls. "It shouldn't take long. When you're done go grab some shuteye." The acting mate turned away just as the metal door creaked wide.

Through the portal Oscar Pleasant blinked at her, ratlike. "What are
you
doing down here?"

Lina stared in confusion. Henry Smalls wanted her to work under
him
? She frowned. "Whatever you need," she said tiredly, "let's get it done with."

Oscar leered at her and then laughed. "You're an eager one." He waggled his eyebrows. "But it's not me who asked for ya. Mechanist called us down here." A rough voice shouted out from the depths of the space beyond. Oscar frowned, then jerked his head toward the sound. "That's him now. Best not to keep him waiting. Ever."

Resigned, Lina stepped past the pirate through the portal. The room beyond was unlike anything she'd seen. It might have been large, but was so packed with boilers, pipes, and copper tubing that she couldn't tell. Needles vibrated within their pressure gauges and linkage mechanisms whirred. Small puffs of steam escaped through baffles and valve-releases. A bucket-and-pulley system stood ready to bring loads of coal from compartments down below. A slow, steady thumping sound reverberated throughout, like the echoes of a beating heart.

A furnace dominated the far end of the room. The fire burning behind its grill was the only source of illumination, casting mad shadows among the pipes. Beside it stood a figure in a scorched and stained leather greatcoat, hunched over a long workbench nestled into a space all its own.

Oh, now what have I gotten myself into?
Lina glanced back at Oscar. The pirate was smiling, clearly enjoying her confusion.
Ass.
Lina turned away from him and cleared her throat.

The figure whirled. Lina jumped. It was a man, most of his features hidden by the wraparound collar and a pair of thick goggles. Despite that she could tell he was small, roughly her own height and older, his frizzy hair colored salt-and-pepper.

"Who are you?" he demanded, voice muffled by his collar. The figure stalked over and stopped with his face only inches away from her own. "What are you doing in here? This is the domain of the Brotherhood."

Lina took a step back. "I'm Lina. Henry Smalls sent me down with Oscar. To...help you, I suppose?"

"You are no pirate." The Mechanist peered at her through his goggles.

"Yes I am," corrected Lina.

"No. You are not." He gestured Oscar over from the door. "It is no matter. Come."

The Mechanist returned to his bench. Lina followed. Just when she'd reached him the man wheeled, jabbing a finger at her. Startled, she jumped back again, running into Oscar. The pirate smirked and offered a hand to help her. She refused it.

"Here," said the Mechanist. "See." He pointed at a portion of his workbench where a brass pipe was mounted to the wall, its length running up to the shadows of the ceiling while the close end terminated in a horn pointed out at them. "Fengel's piratical shenanigans were most untimely. I had not yet completed my modifications to the vessel. I will do so now, and you
will
assist me."

Lina was surprised at the heat in his voice, at the imperious nature of the command. But she was too tired and bewildered to fight it. "All right," she said. "But what do you want me to
do?
"