Gideon Smith and the Brass Dragon (26 page)

Lo siento.

A sharp pain suddenly stabbed her heart. What, exactly, was he saying sorry for? What if his own heart had gone cold; what if he had deserted her? She bit her lip, just as something caught her eye on the horizon, a billowing cloud of dust rising up before the ascending white-hot orb of the sun. Riders? Steamtown riders?

No. The swirls of sand were being dragged into the air by something else, something huge and unwieldy that charted an erratic course toward her,
close
to the ground but unmistakably
above
it. Inez's makeshift broom fell to the dust and her jaw slowly dropped.

It was an airship.

 

19

L
A
C
HUPACABRAS
!

“So … your cover was blown, you were thrown in jail, half of Steamtown has been blasted to smithereens, and you've whisked fifty slaves from under Thaddeus Pinch's nose,” said Cockayne over a pot of hot coffee on the bridge. “And you've still failed to get back the brass dragon or locate Maria. You did say this was a
secret
mission, Smith?”

“One we wouldn't have to undertake at all but for your rank criminality, Cockayne.” Gideon scowled.

“Seconds out, round two.” Bent chuckled. “'Ere, Rowena, you should have seen Gideon lay Cockayne out in that cell with one punch.”

Cockayne put his shoulders back. “Only because Pinch's goons had tortured me half to death. Anytime you want to try again, Smith…”

Rowena put her head in her hands. “For God's sake. You're like a bunch of schoolboys.”

Cockayne raised an eyebrow. “Says the woman who got trigger-happy with a QF Three-Pounder Hotchkiss. Jesus Christ, Rowena, you don't do things by half, do you? You know Pinch ain't gonna rest until he's had his pound of flesh now. He'll be madder'n a scorpion.”

“Which might work in our favor,” said Gideon. “If he's angry he might make mistakes.”

“You got a plan?” asked Bent.

“If it's as good as your last one, we can all expect to be getting intimate with red-hot pokers real soon,” said Cockayne.

“Strictly speaking, Mr. Cockayne, you're in my custody for the theft of property of the British Crown and abduction of one of its subjects. I removed you from that jail—”

Cockayne blinked. “
You
removed
me
from jail?”

“—from that jail in San Antonio for the express purpose of allowing you to redeem your earlier crimes by helping in our mission to locate and liberate Maria and the brass dragon Apep,” finished Gideon, his eyes locked on Cockayne's. “If you want, I can hand you over to the custody of the nearest British garrison and arrange for you to be transported back to London to stand trial.”

“Jesus,” breathed Cockayne. “Pinch'd never get a poker up your ass. You already got a stick jammed up there.”

Gideon scowled. Was even Rowena trying hard to hide an involuntary smile at that? He said, “So yes, I do have a plan. We're going to land the
Skylady III
at this settlement Mr. Ackroyd told us about, then we're going to effect whatever repairs are necessary.”

“Then?” asked Cockayne.

“I'll tell you when we get there,” finished Gideon lamely. He knew the others knew he didn't have any idea at all. But he couldn't show how weak and useless he was. They were relying on him.

Cockayne pointed through the glass. “Good. I'll look forward to it, because I think the place is coming up right now.”

*   *   *

Inez watched from the shadows of the house as the airship—impressively huge, though listing badly—limped in and cast down its anchors, which dragged in the sand until they snagged on rocks and tree stumps, bringing the vast dirigible to a bobbing halt. Winding gears brought the gondola down to just a few feet off the ground, and then the occupants began to disembark down a wooden stairway that unfolded from an observation deck. A woman first, in white shirt and khaki breeches, followed by three men, one of them fat and in most unsuitable clothing for the prairie, and then a veritable flood of people—children, too. They certainly didn't look like Steamtown rabble, so she ventured out of the cool stone building and watched them from the sun-kissed veranda, which had also been patched up remarkably well by the Nameless. The woman and three men who had dropped to the ground first seemed to be the most assured and in charge, and they immediately began scouting around, inspecting the abandoned mine shaft and turning their attention to the house, where they eventually sighted Inez. She raised a hand in greeting, and they began to approach. Just to make sure, she cocked her rifle's safety and laid it out in plain sight on the wooden rail running around the veranda.

“I am guessing you are a long way off course,” she called in English.

The woman, who had very short hair but was strikingly beautiful, smiled at her. “In a way. We're far from any aerodrome, true, but we were heading here.” She pulled off a leather glove when the four of them arrived and held out her hand. “I'm Rowena Fanshawe, and that's my 'stat—sorry, airship—the
Skylady III
. She's in a pretty bad way, I'm afraid.”

Rowena turned and introduced the others. “Mr. Gideon Smith,” she said of the handsome young man with curly black hair. Then she pointed toward the older, fat man, squinting at the sun and sweating already. “Mr. Aloysius Bent, a journalist.”

“Charmed,” said Bent, mopping his brow with a dirty handkerchief. “Christ, it's effing hot.”

The tallest of them touched the brim of his hat, his mustache twitching. “And I'm Louis Cockayne.”

Rowena, Smith, and Bent were English, Cockayne American. Inez nodded and said, “I am Inez Batiste Palomo.”

“Is this your home?” said Smith.

She glanced back at it. She supposed it was, now. “Yes, in a way.” She frowned. “You said you were making for here? But why?”

“Long story,” said Smith. “We had a little … trouble in a place called San Antonio. You know it?”

Inez spat in the dust. “Steamtown.”

“She knows it.” Bent chuckled. “Some chap called Ackroyd, runs a ranch north of the Wall, he told us to come here. He's on his way with a thousand head of cattle. Those Steamtown thugs burned his farm down. Said he was told there was a new community here.” He turned to Cockayne. “Who did he say told him to come?”

Cockayne was watching Inez closely. “The Nameless. You ever heard of him?”

She nodded. “New community? And this farmer is coming here?” She looked at the crowd that had gathered around the gondola of the airship. “And these people…?”

“They were on their way to Steamtown, sold into slavery,” said Rowena. “They have no home.…”

Inez chewed her lip for a moment then said, “You had better all come inside. I have water, and there is a rabbit stew on the stove.” She clicked her tongue. “Although I wasn't expecting so many for dinner…”

*   *   *

After the stew—vastly bulked out by an impromptu rabbit-hunting session on the prairie—was gone, Inez and Rowena organized the passengers into small parties to clean up the rooms and to go and get fresh water from the creek, as well as to gather bundles of reeds to form makeshift beds. Bent and Cockayne stood on the veranda, smoking, while Gideon stalked up and down in the dust. Bent had his notebook out and showed it to Cockayne.

“You know Japanese, Cockayne? You ever seen this symbol?”

Cockayne glanced at it. “Can't say I have. Where's it from?”

“On the neck of a ninja tried to assassinate the New York governor. Something about it's been getting my goat.”

Cockayne took another look and shrugged. “Japanese, Chinese … I can never tell their writing apart, I'm afraid.”

Bent put the end of his pencil thoughtfully in his mouth, then looked up, annoyed, as Gideon kicked up a cloud of dust. “Sit down, for eff's sake, I'm trying to concentrate.”

“I can't,” said Gideon. “I need to be doing
something
.”

“Listen to him, Smith. You're just expending energy.”

Rowena and Inez came back from where they had been inspecting the 'stat. Bent murmured, “Pretty little thing, the Spanish girl.”

Cockayne raised an amused eyebrow. “You noticed?”

“Well?” asked Gideon. “What's the verdict?”

“She isn't going to fly again anytime soon,” said Rowena, wiping grease from her hands with an old rag. “Two cells completely deflated.”

“She needs special gas to fly?” asked Inez.

“Helium.” Rowena nodded. “I need an aerodrome or a big city. What's the nearest major settlement in New Spain?”

“I was made to learn the classics back in Uvalde, where I lived before … before,” said Inez thoughtfully. “Helium is from
helios,
yes? The sun?”

“Yes,” said Rowena absently. “It was named because it has a yellow signature on the spectrum.… How big is this Uvalde? Does it have an airfield?”

“No.” Inez pointed toward the abandoned mine. “But the Nameless, he said that he could see a gas coming from the pit. He said it looked like sunshine.”

Rowena frowned. “Helium is invisible to the human eye.”

Inez shrugged. “He said he could see all kinds of things.”

Rowena was tapping a finger on her chin. “It's possible … it's naturally occurring underground.…”

“There's a portable helium gauge on the
Yellow Rose,
” said Cockayne excitedly. “And a small liquefaction engine. For emergency extraction.”

“I know,” said Rowena, glaring at him. “And she's the
Skylady III,
not the
Yellow Rose
. I'll check it out.”

“I'll help,” said Cockayne, flicking his cigarette into the dust.

“No need,” said Rowena tightly. “I can do it.”

Gideon turned to Cockayne. “Wait. You said you'd heard of this Nameless. Who is he?”

Cockayne shrugged as Rowena walked back to the 'stat. “There's lots to tell, but it's all hearsay and legend. I've heard tales of the Nameless for years. They say he was born in 'seventy-five—”

Bent laughed. “He's a boy?”

Cockayne gave him a withering look. “
Seventeen
seventy-five.”

“But that would make him more than a hundred years old,” said Bent.

“Seventeen seventy-five,” said Gideon. “The year of the failed rebellion.”

“Some say he's walked the land ever since, trying to put things right,” mused Cockayne. “According to some stories, he's no longer human. Others, they say he never was. I never saw him, and never met anyone I trusted who said they did.”

“I have met him,” said Inez. “He was here. He saved us from the Steamtown rabble.”

“Us?” said Cockayne.

“Chantico is my … my lover. He is Yaqui Indian. We were meeting here when we were ambushed. The Nameless saved us. I had a … a disagreement with my father in Uvalde, and I have come to live here with Chantico. The Nameless said things were wrong, that the land should not be split up between the great powers, Britain and Spain and Japan. He thought he had found what he was looking for with us, with this place.”

“And what was that?” asked Gideon.

“America,” she said softly. She looked around at the small knots of people who had been bound for slavery in Steamtown. People with nowhere to go. Nowhere but here. “I didn't know what he meant, but now…”

She blinked and looked up. “There is something else. He wanted us to look after … well, I was going to say a woman. But she's made of clockwork.”

“Maria!”

Inez jumped as Gideon grabbed her by the arms. “A clockwork woman? Maria? He had her? Where is she?”

“You're hurting me,” she said.

Cockayne pulled him off. “Smith, calm down for God's sake.”

“I'm sorry,” said Gideon, taking a deep breath. “But that is why we're here. We're looking for Maria … she looks like an ordinary woman. Very beautiful.”

“Very beautiful,” agreed Inez. “Apart from the key in her back.”

Gideon felt his legs buckle, and Bent put out a hand to steady him. “Is she well? Did she say anything?”

Inez shrugged. “She is unconscious. Wound down. I don't know what you would say. You want to see her?”

Gideon gaped at her. “She's here?”

Inez led them into the house, along the dusty corridors to the inner room where she and Chantico had laid Maria. The door was locked, and Inez rattled the handle irritably.

“That idiot Chantico has the key,” said Inez. “I thought he would be here now.”

“No problem,” said Cockayne. “Stand back.”

He put his boot against the padlock, braced himself on Gideon and Bent, and kicked hard, twice, until the wood splintered. Inez pushed open the door. “She is in—oh.”

The room was empty.

Gideon made a muted roaring sound and punched the stone wall.

“Calm down, Smith,” ordered Cockayne. “This Indian must know where she is, if he's got the key. We just need to wait until he gets here.”

“Where does he live?” asked Gideon. “We should go there now.”

Cockayne held up his hands. “Whoa, Gideon. You don't just go riding into Yaqui camps shouting your head off.” He gripped his shoulder. “We've waited this long, another hour or two won't kill us. Besides, you're beat. We're all beat. We've been up all night. We need some rest or we're no use to anyone.”

“Amen to that,” said Bent, yawning. “Where can I lay my throbbing head?”

“We have collected reeds. You will just have to make a rough bed,” said Inez.

“I'm so knackered you could hang me on a clothesline and I'd sleep for a day,” he said.