Imprudence (31 page)

“That does lessen the inconvenience. What will you give to the decoys, and what to your own personal escort, all of whom undertake a certain amount of risk in your protection?”

Good question
,
thought Rue
. What will I give? What do I have to trade that these men might want?

“I offer contacts with a new trade concern in Cairo. A lucrative tea import business that will need middlemen.”

“And why would a tradesman use Drifters with small balloon capacity over faster and more effective trains?”

“Fair point,” said Rue. She regarded Ay.
How much is Primrose really worth?

Percy seemed to follow this line of thinking and elbowed Rue. “Don't you dare trade my sister.”

“Well, what else do we have, Percy? Your books?”

“No! Fine, by all means, offer them Primrose, for you are not trading my library!” He paused, frowning. “How about aetheric current charts? I could copy those over.”

Rue thought that a pretty good idea; although the Drifters' balloons were not designed for aetherosphere puffing, they could float short ways if they wished to. She made the offer.

The Drifters looked intrigued but doubtful.

Rue consulted Anitra and Floote. “I could have Cook make up all the scones our stores allow. And they can have the rest of the bally port. But really I can't offer much more from our supplies. We've no idea when we might get supplies again. We will need to eat.”

“How much sugar do you have?” Floote asked.

Rue raised her eyebrows. “I'd have to ask Primrose, but quite a lot. I've a terrible sweet tooth.”

“Like your mother.”

“Be fair, she has a general tooth.”

“Offer them all you can spare.”

Anitra explained, “It's a coveted delicacy in these parts.”

Rue took a breath and sacrificed her beloved lemon tarts on the altar of human safety. “A sugar loaf of this size” – she made the shape with her hands – “to each family group that remains to help.”

That resulted in murmurs of delight. Several of the men nodded; they were temped, but it still wasn't enough.

Rue looked to Floote. “What else might they like? I have a great number of shoes and Primrose has hats and parasols and such. I don't suppose…”

“They might like the parasols.”

“I'm going to need Primrose at this juncture. I can't trade away a lady's accessories without her knowledge any more than I can trade away her person. In Prim's case, the accessories likely carry more weight. Percy, go and fetch your sister, please. And ask her to bring as many of her least favourite parasols as she can spare.”

Percy stood, grumbling. “Don't you dare give them my books while I'm away.”

He left.

Floote said, “I suppose he knows they can't read?”

“It would never occur to Percy that
anyone
couldn't read. Don't burst his bubble. I prefer him worried. And nothing makes Percy more worried than the possibility of diminishing his library.”

The twins returned momentarily and there was a murmur of dissent as Primrose drew up a deck chair, joining the circle behind where Percy and Rue sat. Primrose would never sit on the floor of anything for any reason. Ever. International incident or not.

While Anitra said something that seemed to soothe matters over the presence of a foreign female in a deck chair, Rue turned to her friend.

“We're in sticky negotiations, asking them to continue escorting us. I've had some luck offering up most of the ship's sugar stores. Sorry. Now we were thinking maybe your parasols would appeal.”

“Oh, were we?”

“I'll buy you replacements when we return to London.”

Prim grinned. “Only funning. Of course you may have them. Well, not all of them, but most will be out of fashion by the time we get home anyway. I'll be receiving one of your mother's specials as well. I have decoration plans for that, which should result in not needing most of these.” She gestured and Spoo staggered forward to dump a full dozen parasols of different shapes, sizes, colours, and decorations in the centre of the circle.

While the visitors crowded forward, grabbing for their favourites, Rue said, “That's very generous, Prim. Thank you.”

“And you mock me for my excessive accessory collection.”

“Never! I'd give them my shoes if I could.”

“Just goes to show you that parasols trump shoes every time.”

Rue didn't argue because, really, Primrose was being very philanthropic.

“Any other ideas?”

Between them they managed to come up with more offerings. All their available perfume oils, several bars of soap, glassware from the table setting, two silver candlesticks, three thick fuzzy carpets showing Uncle Rabiffano's impeccable taste, two dozen scones, some muffins, several tins of spices, and four of Prim's least favourite hats were offered up.

And they had an agreement.

Still the Drifters seemed reluctant to make any concrete promises.

“It's not that they don't find the goods sufficient,” explained Anitra, when Rue and Primrose began scrabbling for more disposable offerings. “It's that they believe the quest ill-omened.”

“Why?”

Anitra shrugged. “There has been no sign or portent.”

“How do we arrange a portent?” Rue was not above fabricating fate, if it would not be tempted.

At which moment Footnote came striding up, because cats have perfect timing when they care to use it. Tail high, the little tuxedo was enjoying full run of the ship with Tasherit confined to her room. Upon seeing the assembly, Footnote, being a social beastie, strutted into the exact centre of the circle. Naturally, with everyone focused there, he assumed the pile of objects was his by rights.

The crowd fell into a shocked silence as the cat trotted around, twitching his whiskers at hats, parasols, perfume bottles, and sugar loafs, batting at this or that. The silence stretched as he made a second wider circle, sniffing everyone's feet. The Drifters held perfectly still. Satisfied that he had claimed everything for cat-kind, Footnote flopped in front of Percy, showing his belly – cat language for “scratch my neck but don't you dare actually touch the belly”. Footnote had handsome white tummy markings which went up to his throat. He also had white spats, impressively long white whiskers, and a white tail tip. He was quite the natty dresser. After receiving the requisite neck scratches, he sat back up, stuck his rear foot high into the air, and proceeded to give himself a good wash in a most indelicate area.

Primrose was enormously embarrassed. She bent forward from her chair to shoo him away.

Floote stopped her. “No, Miss Tunstell, watch.”

A murmur of excitement buzzed through the circle. The visiting leaders began talking to one another in hushed tones.

The suppressed tension made Rue nervous. She reached for her second-hand parasol, gripping the knobby handle that activated various secret weapons. She began categorising the armaments in her head, wondering what might be most effective on such a large number of people.

Floote said, “I don't think that will be necessary, Lady Akeldama. See?”

Ay spoke and Anitra translated. “We have a deal.”

Rue was shocked. “What?”

“The decoy ladybugs will have their escorts away from here. My family, along with Ay's, have agreed to continue southward with you.”

“But how?”

“They like your cat.”

Only Percy was unsurprised by this. “He is a very nice cat, as cats go. Spoiled rotten, of course. But what cat isn't?”

“Just like that?” After a long session of tense negotiations, Rue couldn't believe her luck.

Anitra laughed. “Cats are considered the visible soul of a ship, to have a black and white one is very rare and very lucky in these skies.”

Ay tilted her head back and swallowed the last of her port. Around the circle, the others did the same. Rue and Percy followed suit.

Without further ceremony, the party dispersed. No farewells were made to Rue or her companions. Although a few of the visitors made an effort to approach Footnote and give him a head scratch. Footnote took this as his due.

They watched from the deck as the departing leaders bounced across the nets.

“Why do you think they wanted the hats?” Primrose asked. “Not that I'll miss them: Mother's gifts, every one. Frankly, they couldn't have gone to a better home than the middle of an Egyptian desert where no one is likely to see them ever again.”

“From what I could gather, they mean to use them as balloon toppers. Sort of like figureheads on a boat,” Anitra explained.

Rue grinned hugely. “You mean, like an actual tiny hat atop a big balloon head?”

Primrose started to laugh at the picture this presented.

Anitra nodded.

Percy said, “I don't see what's so funny. It's a perfectly acceptable way to display a highly decorated object of high rank. Mother would be proud.”

Prim snorted. “No, she would not, and don't you dare tell her. Better the hats sacrificed themselves for our continued survival than ended up cultural curiosities collected by floating nomads.”

The sound of a horn broke through their merriment.

“What's that mean?” Rue asked.

Anitra winced. “That's lookout scouts on the far edge balloons. Incoming hostiles. Grandfather, why don't you go below? You're looking tired.”

Floote gave his adopted granddaughter a funny sigh but did as she suggested. He did look tired, bent over and shaky as he approached the stairs.

Rue frowned. Floote's eyes were always so alert that sometimes she forgot how old he was. And he'd just spent the better part of an hour sitting on the floor. “Poor thing, someone should help him. Those stairs aren't easy for anyone save decklings. Primrose, would you?”

“By all means.”

“And if there's going to be trouble, you might stay below yourself.”

Primrose nodded and trotted after Floote, offering him a supporting arm.

“Not you this time, Percy.” Rue forestalled the redhead when he would have followed. “Don't look so worried. We aren't going to stay and fight. I need you at the helm. It's time to test the
Custard
's mettle and make a break for it. Come on.”

“Oh good. I prefer running away.” Difficult to tell if Percy was being sarcastic.

Rue accompanied him to the navigation pit and picked up the speaking tube.

“What?” Aggie barked at the other end.

Rue hadn't time for animosity. “Grab that nasty-looking crossbow of yours, Miss Phinkerlington, and get up here on the double. No arguing. And put Mr Lefoux on the line.”

Surprisingly, Aggie did as ordered.

“
Chérie?
”

“We've got unwelcome visitors. Heat up the engines. We're testing her mettle.”

“Do we have an escort?”

“That we do.”

“Nicely done.”

“It's all Footnote's fault.”

“I won't ask.”

“Probably better that way. You ready?”

“Always.”

“Bring them to the boil, then, immediately, please.”

“Consider it done.” Quesnel set down his end of the tube with a soft click.

With remarkable efficiency, all around them, the nets were reeled in. The decoy dirigibles began puffing, while the Drifters divided into clusters around each one.

The warning horns sounded again. Taking that as the signal to depart, they began heading in different directions. One group of Drifters even floated due north, down the Nile, towards the attackers.

Rue put the spyglass to her eye and gasped, for charging them at speed were a dozen airships. Not just dirigibles either, but ornithopters and other flying machines. There were nimble and manoeuvrable and not dependent on wind. Not able to float the aetherosphere but good for close-range combat.

Rue never thought there might be so many working together. It conflicted with her imagined solo collector out for reputation and glory.

A
ggie Phinkerlington appeared at Rue's elbow. “You summoned?”

Rue handed her a set of glassicals and pointed north. “We've got company.”

Aggie looked through, her eyes wonky with magnification. “You always did attract the nicest types.”

“And here I thought you
liked
Mr Lefoux.”

Aggie handed her back the lenses. Was she trying not to smile?

“I take it you know how to shoot that thing?” Rue gave a chin nod to the crossbow.

Aggie didn't bother to answer, simply made her way to the best vantage point on the forecastle, propped her massive crossbow up on the railing, and winched the string back to load a bolt.
Old
-
fashioned
, thought Rue,
but serviceable.

“Spoo,” she called, “leave off prep work, grab a friend, and man the Gatling gun. I take it you've figured out how to use it?” Rue had confidence in Spoo's general interest in violence. She was eleven, after all. All eleven-year-olds were, by nature, bloodthirsty.

“Aye, Lady Captain.”

Spoo grabbed, of all people, Virgil, who had been herding Footnote belowdecks. They ran to ready the massive gun.

“Don't go shooting any friendlies. I spent far too long, and too much sugar, acquiring that escort for you to go potting a Drifter. Spoo, take your instructions from Aggie.”

Aggie didn't respond except to nod at Spoo.

Spoo gave a reluctant, “Aye-aye.” A former sootie, Spoo had transferred up to deckling because she didn't like Aggie.

Nevertheless, Rue was pretty darn certain that if anyone could forge a working relationship under pressure to kill people, it was those two.

Rue picked up her mother's parasol, trying to decide which of its armaments would be most useful long range. “Percy,” she said, “set course due south and take us up. Not into the aetherosphere. Find us a good breeze so the balloons can keep pace but be prepared to boil up to full propeller if needed. Hold us towards the back of the pack so the gunners have shooting lines.”

The
Spotted Custard
let out her usual noise of petulant flatulence but responded with eager nimbleness to Rue's commands and Percy's touch. They puffed smoothly upwards, shadowed by an escort of seven balloons. Fortunately they found a favourable southern wind and hooked in, moving quickly.

Rue watched their hunters with her glass. They were obviously confused by the multiple ladybug dirigibles and their multiple Drifter companions.

Anitra appeared at her elbow.

“Floote's plan seems to be working.” Rue gave her a cheerful smile. “They are dividing to follow, not sure which of us is the
real
Spotted Custard
.”

The young woman smiled back. “Best keep your distance, then. As soon as they have deck view, they'll spot you as a female captain and know for certain which is which.”

“I take it he didn't go as far as to have all the decoy captains dress in decoy Worth tea-gowns?”

“Bit pricy.”

“Good point.” Rue kept grinning. “Could disguise myself with one of those Drifter robes. Got any spares?”

Anitra shook her head. “Not with me.”

Rue gestured to a deckling. “Run down and raise Miss Sekhmet. We could use her military prowess. Ask her to bring me one of those silk robes of hers and a scarf or two.”

The deckling scampered off.

Moments later Tasherit arrived. They were floating high but the plague remained strong; while Rue still felt the oppressive numbness, Tasherit seemed nothing more than blithely mortal under its sway.

“Rue?” The werecat wasn't one for formalities. She handed over a silver robe and some colourful scarves. Rue handed her the parasol and glassicals. Rue pulled the garment on, wrapping one of the scarves about her head, including her hat. She must look rather ridiculous, like a silvery beekeeping nun, but she hoped it would confuse their followers.

“We've got ourselves a spot of bother.” Rue filled Tasherit in on the particulars of their new escort, the decoys, and the attackers.

Miss Sekhmet handed her back the parasol with a lip curl. “What
is
that colour?”

Rue looked at the ghastly thing in surprise. It was some species of brown, although in certain lights it had a red tinge, in others a green, and in still others a yellow. It was trimmed with a great quantity of lace and chiffon of the same not-quite-anything-reliable colour. She supposed it was meant to match any outfit, which of course meant it clashed with everything.

“It is a Parasol-of-Another-Colour,” Rue announced in a formal manner.

Tasherit sniffed and looked through Rue's glassicals at the enemy, as if in an effort to avoid the parasol. “There are more of them this time.”

“More even than that. See there? The decoys are drawing some away.” Only four airships remained tailing the
Custard
.

“Strange that collectors would pull together. Isn't the point to make the catch for yourself, alone?”

“I thought that, too.” Rue nodded.

“So, maybe not collectors?”

“Whoever they are, they're hostile. You got a gun with any range on it?”

“No.” The werelioness looked over to where Spoo and Aggie were tensely pointing their weapons at the slowly encroaching enemy and bickering mildly with one another. “But I'm better at a Gatling than Spoo there.”

“I wager you are. By all means, go and tell her to do something more useful, then.”

“Oh, great, thanks for that. I was hoping you'd tell her. You know, for truly rapid fire we really need four operators.”

Rue wrinkled her forehead. “I'm hoping it won't come to that. Just a warning shot.”

The werecat nodded. “Two of us will do, then.”

She went and ejected a dejected Spoo from behind the gun but showed her how to feed in the Bruce instead. Virgil, looking relieved, was free to take on more valet-like duties. He went immediately to see to Percy's cravat, which had, in the chaos, come undone and was wafting. Cravats should never be allowed to waft.

One of the ornithopters pulled away from the pack and began closing in on them.

“Bring him out of the sky, please, ladies.” Rue didn't want him seeing their personnel and reporting back that this was the
real
Spotted Custard
.

The Gatling gun
rat
-
tat
-
tatted
.

Aggie's crossbow twanged.

The bullets took the ornithopter in the engine block. Aggie's bolt tore out one of the wings at its midway joint. The craft spiralled down to the desert. After that, their followers, now numbering only three, kept a respectful distance.

They remained some leagues off for several hours until the other Drifter groups were mere dots on the far horizon. By which time Rue had formulated a plan.

“Quesnel, could we simulate a mechanical malfunction? Gouts of black smoke out of the stacks or something? I'm thinking to try a lame-duck gambit.”

At the other end of the speaking tube, the Frenchman didn't sound surprised by this request. “Most assuredly. When would you like it?”

“Five minutes enough time?”

“Certainly.”

Rue hung up the tube and turned to her navigator. “Percy, prepare to de-puff and cycle down the propeller.”

“Aren't we in the middle of a chase?”

“We are, but we can't keep this up into nightfall. I'm thinking, I have some good gunners – we might was well turn this into an attack.”

Percy grumbled, “I don't know why I expected anything different from the daughter of a werewolf. Didn't that vampire father of yours teach you any subtlety?”

“That's rich coming from the son of Aunt Ivy.”

“Touché.”

“You've a better idea, Mr Tunstell?”

“Well, no…”

Rue went to talk to her gunners.

“I'm luring them in. I want you to take them out as soon as they are in range.”

“You got a lot of faith in our abilities.” Aggie registered displeasure out of orneriness, not lack of confidence.

Rue arched her brows. “I never doubted you for one second, Miss Phinkerlington. Remember, it was always the other way around.”

Tasherit nodded at Spoo to prepare the Bruce. Spoo checked the cartridges with an intent face.

“Anitra?” Rue called to the young Drifter woman, who was busy pacing the decks with no concrete roll to play aboard ship. She clearly wished to pitch in, being born to the skies, but knew that on a well-run airship she was likely to be a hindrance until she got their rhythm.

Rue paused, seeing her crew through another's eyes. Competent and sure, with a ballet-like grace to their movements.
Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. Is that because of, or despite, my leadership?

“Looking bang-up, everyone!” Rue wanted to ensure they knew she appreciated them. A few of her decklings waved at her without pausing in their duties.

Anitra came over. “Yes, Lady Akeldama?”

“Can we get a message to your family and Ay? I'm assuming you have way of communicating while afloat?”

“But of course.” Anitra pulled out two small bright red scarves from her sleeves, as if she were about to do some exotic dance. She waved them high above her head, signalling for attention from their escort.

“What should I say?”

“Ask them to please prepare their nets.”

“We're going to stop?”

“No, we're going to set a trap.”

The
Spotted Custard
pretended weakness, puffing out gouts of smelly black smoke and sinking down and away from any protection afforded by the balloons.

The hunters closed in, ignoring the Drifters.

Tasherit and Aggie engaged in a solid exchange of fire. Aggie managed to take down a second ornithopter while Tasherit and Spoo annihilated the balloon of the smaller dirigible. Neither one was permanently damaged, but they were limp and grounded for the time being. The largest and best manned of the ships got in a few good shots of its own. One bullet splintered the aft section of the
Custard
's gondola, while a second put a sizable hole through her balloon. It was enough to make their fake fall not quite so fake. Decklings scuttled to climb the lines and patch the tear. Rue let them, despite the danger both from falling and further gunshot. They couldn't afford to actually be weak.

Meanwhile, the Drifters dropped back and were coming around the enemy from above. They only boasted a couple of pistols among them, nothing like a Gatling, but they weren't intending to join the fight. Instead, they hovered over the remaining hostile like a small swarm of chubby honeybees. When the time felt about right, they dropped one of their massive heavy nets. It slid over the aft point of the dirigible's almond-shaped balloon and fell with a thud to drape over the gondola below. Nothing happened for a moment, and then the net, swaying, got tangled up in the propeller beneath.