Steamed (18 page)

“Yes,” she said slowly, her forehead smoothing out. She gave me a long, unreadable look. “I’m sure you were.”

She turned away to the revolutionaries, speaking briefly to one before marching into the hold without another word. The revolutionaries, with a last glance toward Hallie and me, continued loading the cargo onto the wagons.

I stared after Octavia as she disappeared into the depths of the hold.

“She seems pissed all of a sudden,” Hallie said, frowning after her.

“Yes, she does.”

“She should be happy that you saved her cargo for her revolutionary buddies.”

“You’d think so, huh?”

“Doesn’t make sense,” Hallie said, shaking her head, then shrugging. “Oh well. Where to now, brother mine?”

I pulled out a piece of paper that Octavia had given me. “There’s a pensione not far from here, Suore della Santa Croce, that’s kept by Swiss nuns. Octavia said we should be safe there.”

“Safe from what?” Hallie asked as I looked back into the hold. Octavia was gone.

“That is the question, isn’t it?” I said, but no one enlightened us.

 

I
t took most of the day before we were released from the Rome offices of Southampton Aerocorps, where the entire crew had been detained by both the Corps and the emperor’s officials.

“We’ll provide you with an escort to the pensione,” Captain MacGregor, the flight leader for this area, said as he gestured for a couple of Corps men-at-arms.

“That’s not necessary,” I told him, waiting for the rest of the crew to climb into the carriages that were waiting outside the main building for us. “We are prepared to take care of ourselves, and indeed would have been able to repel the Black Hand assault had the full complement of the crew been present.”

“I have no doubt that you would have,” Captain MacGregor said, his voice as warm as his eyes. I’d met him twice before, but was aware that there was a bit more admiration in his gaze than was purely proper, even given the situation. “You handled that attack by the barbarians quite easily. It’s just too bad that the revolutionaries overpowered you and were able to get away with the rest of the cargo.”

“Yes, it is quite upsetting,” I said, my gaze not wavering even so much as a smidgen.

“I’m sure the emperor will have nothing but praise for you, since you tried your best to fend them off. And then there’s the fact that we caught three of them. The emperor is bound to be pleased with you for that.”

Drat Etienne. Why hadn’t he posted guards to warn of possible reinforcements? He always was arrogant, and I had no doubt that he felt that his presence alone would guarantee the success of the raid. Now three of his men were imprisoned, and quite likely to be scheduled for execution.

“The emperor is always gracious,” I murmured, thinking frantically. I’d have to contact Alan—he might be able to help with the captured revolutionaries. He wouldn’t like it, since it could threaten his cover with the imperial forces, but he would just have to see the necessity in aiding me with the matter.

“I have asked the vice-provost if I might be present when he questions the revolutionaries,” Captain MacGregor continued, his voice fat with satisfaction. He held open the door to a third carriage for me, his hand on my elbow as he assisted me into the vehicle. “He said that under the circumstances he thought it would be allowed.”

“Really?” I paused on the top carriage step, turning around to face him. “Would it be possible for me to go with you?”

“You?” He laughed and gave me a little push into the carriage, closing the door and leaning casually against the opened window. “My dear Captain Pye, that would be the height of impropriety.”

“How so? It was my ship that was attacked, my crew that was forced to undergo hours of interrogation regarding the event. I believe we are owed something for that inconvenience. I agree that it would be unreasonable for my entire crew to appear at the questioning of the revolutionaries, but surely it would be fitting for me to be present.”

“On the contrary,” he said, his fingers lingering on mine until I withdrew my hand. “It is out of the question. As for the so-called interrogation—surely you must realize that the present time of unrest in the empire demands that both the Corps and the emperor’s officials investigate such events as what transpired today.”

“Yes, of course, but—”

“You have not been in Rome in several months,” he said, taking my hand again and giving it a squeeze. I was briefly thankful I had donned a pair of gloves before departing his office. “Much has changed since you were last here, my dear Captain Pye. Rome is a battleground between the barbarian Moghuls and the emperor’s forces. Daily attacks are not at all uncommon, and the streets are not safe for a lady such as yourself to pass through unescorted. I would, naturally, see to your safety myself, but I promised the vice-provost that I would attend him promptly. I’m sure you will forgive me.” He released my hand and gestured. Four armed men on horses moved into view, clearly there to escort our carriages to the pensione that was used by Aerocorps personnel when they were in Rome.

“You will, I hope, grant me the pleasure of your company for dinner tomorrow evening? I will call for you at eight o’clock.”

“I’m afraid I will be unavailable. Another time, perhaps?” I was forced to call out as the carriage suddenly jerked forward. I sank into the cushioned back, my stomach in my boots as I considered what a horrible mess had been made of things.

I was dwelling on that, and what steps I could take to try to free Etienne’s people, when we passed by the storehouses that were used to hold cargo until it could be distributed. As we passed the first one, a man emerged from the side, stepping back immediately into the blackness of the shadows between the two buildings. He wasn’t fast enough, though, to escape me noting the white turban that graced his head and lower face.

I waited until the last of the carriages carrying my crew had passed the storehouses before calling to the coachman to stop at the gate.

“Is there a problem, ma’am?” he called back to me as the horses trotted smartly onward.

I glanced back toward the storehouses, slowly shrinking in the distance. “I believe the Moghuls are planning another attack on the aerodrome.”

“What, again?” The man’s voice was incredulous. “Well, I’ll tell the guard at the gate, but I think you’re mistaken. No one could get through our defenses now that the imperial troops are here.”

We stopped at the guardhouse at the front gate long enough for me to insist that the man in charge send a note back to the Corps headquarters to check the storehouses. No one seemed inclined to worry.

“Now, then, Captain Pye, ye’re just a bit fashed,” the guard said with the same soothing tone one would use with a truculent child. “Ye’ve had a day, and that’s no lie, but ye jest go on yer way, and leave it to us to keep the cargoes safe.”

“Just do as I ask and notify Captain MacGregor,” I said, returning to the carriage.

“The captain was leaving for the vice-provost, ma’am,” the driver reminded me.

“Nonetheless, a message can be sent to him,” I said, then told him to proceed.

The ride to the pensione was uneventful, although I saw signs on the streets of the recent attacks by the Moghuls. Several blocks had been burned, and were in disarray, while there were few people on the street who did not have an armed guard accompanying them.

I had read reports, of course, of the attacks on Rome by the Moghuls—and occasionally the revolutionaries, although they concentrated their energies on the emperor’s troops—and how William, in response to a plea by the Italian king, had doubled the troops in the area. Supplying those troops was the very reason the
Tesla
had been sent out. But I had been in Rome four months before, and it had been very different then.

“Because of the incident today, we have been asked to remain available for interviews by the imperial forces,” I told the crew some ten minutes later as they disembarked in front of the Hôtel d’Europe et des Îles Britanniques, a grand name for a modest pensione that was made up of a main building, a stable block that had been converted to rooms, and a small walled garden, all of which butted up against the back of a convent. It was quiet and clean, and the owners, Signore Vittorio and his wife, were most obliging and attentive to Aerocorps members. “However, I have been granted permission to give you all twenty-four hours of leave, so you may consider yourselves free from duty until tomorrow evening.”

“Hurrah! I can’t wait to try them Italian ices I’ve heard so much about,” Dooley cheered, and was immediately squashed by Mr. Piper, who cuffed him on the back of the head.

“Ye’ll be stayin’ with me, ye will, lad. Ye’re likely to end up on the end of a barbarian’s sword iff’n I was to let ye run free.”

“Welcome, welcome,” Signore Vittorio said as he emerged from the building, wiping his hands on a large green apron as he greeted us. He was a round man, with little hair, but a broad smile. “You are most welcome. Ah, Miss Pye, is it not? I have not seen you for many months. You look well.”

“It’s Captain Pye now,” Mr. Christian said, looking over the front of the pensione with a critical eye. Although he’d flown on the
Tesla
for over a year, this was, I knew, his first visit to Rome.

“Captain, eh?” Signore Vittorio showed blackened teeth as he beamed at me before herding us all inside the pensione. “I will tell my signora. She will be pleased, eh? She always liked you.”

It took some little while to get the crew settled. Mr. Francisco took offense to having to share his room with Mr. Llama, declaring loudly, “It is the one thing that I must share on the ship. It is small and space is limited. I am a steward most accommodating there. But here? There are many rooms and I will not share!”

“I’m sorry, but Signore Vittorio says that the
Babbage
is in town, and its crew is here, as well; thus there are limited rooms available to us. We’re all sharing because of that. Not even I have a room to myself,” I said, hoping to end his drama scene before it worsened. “I have full confidence that everyone will be able to enjoy their leave regardless of the accommodations.”

“The room, she is the bull most unbear,” Mr. Francisco grumbled as he stomped into the room that had been given over to him. It took me a moment to figure out what it was he meant.

“Your room is quite delightful, and not at all unbearable—where is Mr. Llama?” I glanced around the room in growing annoyance. Not half a minute before, I’d seen the mysterious engineer’s mate slink into the room, his case in hand, and now there was nothing in the room but two beds, a wardrobe, two chairs, and a stand holding a basin and ewer. The window was open, but we were on the second floor, and I doubted if he would have exited the room that way. “This is too much! I saw him come in here. I
saw
him!”

“Saw who?” Mr. Mowen asked as he strolled past the opened door, a towel over his shoulder, obviously on his way to have a bath.

“Mr. Llama. He’s done it again!” I pushed past Mr. Francisco and flung open the wardrobe, expecting to see the man there, but it was empty of everything but an extremely startled mouse. “Damn!” I yelled, uncaring that I was swearing in front of the crew. I whirled around and glared at the window, rushing over to it.

“Did you see him?” I heard Mr. Mowen ask Francisco as I thrust my upper body out of the window, searching for signs that someone could have left that way. The wall was smooth, with no ledge or balcony, nothing but some climbing bougainvillea that led down to the small garden area, which was also empty of people.

“See who?”

“Llama.”

“I am not the keeper of the engineers,” Mr. Francisco said haughtily. “If you lose him, it is your head it is on.”

“I haven’t lost—oh, never mind.”

“One of these days,” I muttered to myself as I withdrew back into the room, my gaze darting hither and yon looking for a secret hiding spot. “One of these days I’m going to catch him in the act, and then we’ll just see!”

“Captain be talkin’ to herself again?” Mr. Piper asked under his breath as I stormed out of Mr. Francisco’s room, and down the hallway toward mine. “Mayhap she be in need of the leave more’n we are.”

I closed the door of my room on Mr. Mowen’s thoughtful agreement. Mr. Ho had changed out of her uniform into a dark blue dress, and was just pinning a hat on her head. “I might not be back until late, Captain. I know you don’t expect us to report in while we’re on leave, but as we’re sharing accommodations, I wouldn’t want you worrying if you noticed I was absent.”

“What you do while you’re on leave is certainly your own business,” I said, pulling off my wool jacket and flopping down unceremoniously onto one of the two beds in the room.

She raised an eyebrow at the priggish tone the words were spoken in.