Tethered (12 page)

“Someone at the harbor will tell us. Fladstrand’s too small for a strange airship to go unnoticed.”

“Her letter includes today’s date.” Perhaps early that morning—before Archimedes’ express had arrived. Bilson must have sent a message to his mercenaries soon after he’d been invited to dinner aboard
Lady Nergüi.
“Can we catch up to them?”

Her hesitation told him before she did. “Only if we know their exact heading.”

That heading would be south, Archimedes knew. But only a degree’s difference could mean a separation of hundreds of miles by the time they’d traveled the same distance—and the bastards were already at least twelve hours ahead of them.

They’d soon be farther ahead.
Lady Nergüi
wasn’t prepared for a long journey. They didn’t yet have the necessary fuel and food, or the equipment needed to infiltrate New Eden. That twelve-hour lead would be thirty-six hours or more before they were ready to follow Zenobia.

Yasmeen touched his arm. “We need to go.”

Yes, they did. Zenobia’s note in hand, he started for the door. “How long before we’re in England?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

And the express letters she’d sent from Port Fallow would be arriving in London any moment now. “Will the Blacksmith’s people have time to make the autogyros?”

“For as much as we offered to pay his smithy? Yes.”

No. Archimedes’ jaw tightened. The Blacksmith wouldn’t jump at anyone’s command, not even for money. She must have been owed a favor, and no one called in the Blacksmith’s favors lightly.

For Zenobia’s sake, he couldn’t ask Yasmeen to reconsider that course…not that she would if he did.

Her gaze swept the gray sky when they stepped outside. Steel had hardened her eyes; no man looking at her would have imagined she had any weak points, any softness. Yet here he stood, a vulnerability exposed and used against her.

Truthfully? I don’t like it at all.

Archimedes liked it even less. Though strong, he was her soft belly.

Would she resent him for that?

God, the thought gutted him. He knew she wouldn’t abandon him for this…but perhaps it would be the start of regret. Losing one ship had hurt her so much, more than she probably admitted to herself. What if, in their search for Zenobia, she lost another?

He couldn’t let it happen. He’d find his sister.

But he wouldn’t risk losing Yasmeen in the process.

*   *   *

Every airship captain who made runs around the
bottom knew to avoid Madagascar in the southern spring. New Eden didn’t often come within sight of the Horde-occupied island, but the steam-powered flyers traded with the merchants there. Those flyers didn’t have a long range. Wherever they roamed, New Eden couldn’t be far away.

And as soon as Yasmeen told Mrs. Fortescue their destination, it was obvious that the navigator thought that New Eden could never be far enough away. Her face was pale as she unrolled maps across Yasmeen’s desk and began plotting the course. Usually bold and flirtatious, now she was quiet, and within minutes she’d gnawed away the rosy stain on her lips. Beside her, Vashon’s tension was less visible, but still apparent in the set of her jaw, and the uncertain glances she cast at Yasmeen’s face, as if wondering whether she’d just signed on with a madwoman.

Fuck uncertainty. This ended now.

A crew that didn’t trust their captain was as worthless as a crew
she
didn’t trust. But goddammit, she’d been tested as they had. She didn’t rely on her reputation aboard her own ship—and in five months, she’d led them through dangers that other mercenaries wouldn’t have survived. She had no more
time for this. They would trust her to do her duty by them, or they could stay behind.

She pinned her new quartermaster with a hard stare. “Would you have signed that contract if you knew we’d be heading straight for New Eden?”

At the table, Archimedes looked up from a journal, where he’d been searching for a colleague’s account of William Bushke before the man had built New Eden. His emerald eyes were haunted—guilt and worry were weighing on him. Earlier, they’d eaten a quiet dinner, and for the first time, the silence hadn’t been comfortable, or filled with more pleasurable activities. No, it had simply been too difficult to laugh or smile when they’d both been sliced open at the gut by Zenobia’s abduction.

Vashon cleared her throat. “Honestly, ma’am?”

“Yes.”

“I wouldn’t have. But now that I’m aboard your airship, I’ll stick with her.”

Yasmeen turned her attention to the navigator. “And you, Mrs. Fortescue?”

“I’m still thinking about it, ma’am.” Agitation had darkened the woman’s plump cheeks, but she held herself calmly. “You’re…well, you’re the notorious Lady Corsair. I know your reputation, and I’ve seen you wriggle us out of tight spots. And I knew this job meant that I’d be picking up a sword or a gun and using them; I knew I might die on these decks. But I can’t say I ever saw myself spending the rest of my life farming in a city in the sky.”

A fate worse than death, for some. Yasmeen couldn’t blame them for thinking so—she’d have felt the same way.

She couldn’t blame them. But she’d be damned before ever abandoning a ship and crew in the wake of such fears. If anyone would rather leave her lady, good riddance to them.

“We’ll arrive in Medway tomorrow, Mrs. Fortescue. You have until that time to decide.”

“Whether to leave?” She appeared briefly horrified. “It’s true I wouldn’t like farming, but there’s no question. I’ll stay, ma’am.”

Good. But
all
of them needed to decide by then. Yasmeen
looked to Vashon. “Call all hands on deck. Not just the aviators—everyone. Now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As she turned, Yasmeen said, “I’ll see you up top, Mrs. Fortescue.”

The navigator nodded and made a hasty exit.

Yasmeen drew a deep breath, then threw back her shoulders. She buckled her jacket, straightened her sash.

“Are you primping?”

Archimedes sounded amused. A glance at his face told her that he wasn’t.

“I’m giving them the choice to go,” she said.

“Why?”

Because they’d be less likely to change their minds later or to refuse her orders. Because she’d have to kill anyone who did.

“I wouldn’t, if this was my old crew.” Or even if she’d had more time with this one. “I knew they’d follow me anywhere and without hesitation. Even if they thought I was mad, they’d trust me to pull through. My old crew…” Her throat tightened. “My old crew isn’t here.”

He came to her, caught her face between his hands. “I’m so sorry, Yasmeen.”

It wasn’t his fault. But she knew that trying to talk him out of that guilt would be useless. She tried to smile—and when she failed, tried to make him smile. “I want Zenobia back, too. Who else would immortalize my adventures? And I still have to convince her to pay me fifty percent in royalties.”

The tilt of his lips didn’t last long, and the humor never reached his eyes. “What will you tell them about Bilson?”

“Not that he’s hiding a device that can kill you and Anisa Stoker,” she said. “I’ll have to frame his presence in another way.”

“One that explains why you shot him.”

“Ah, yes. I forgot about that.”

Not truly, but she might as well have. Finding the device mattered. Zenobia mattered. When Bilson finally awoke from his opium-induced sleep, Archimedes and she would have to deal with the man…but he didn’t matter.

She looked up at Archimedes, saw the torment on his face.
Though she knew he wouldn’t let go of this guilt easily, she had to try. “Stop blaming yourself for this.”

“Oh, I’ve progressed to blaming him.” His smile was short-lived, and that tortured regret appeared again. Softly, he added, “But you shouldn’t be forced into this. I’ll hire another airship at Medway. I’ll go after Zenobia alone.”

He wasn’t joking. Yasmeen stared at him. She wanted to laugh, but each word resounded in her ears, squeezed painfully at her heart. A sense of unreality descended; she shook her head, trying to clear it. “I’m having difficulty deciding whether I’m moved or offended by that suggestion.”

“Moved,” he said. “I love you. I can’t bear to risk you. And I can’t bear being the reason you might lose your crew.”

She would hate it, too. But by the lady, she hated this suggestion more, and as the sense of unreality lifted, she wasn’t moved or offended. She was
hurt.
He’d wounded her so easily. So carelessly.

“You know everything I am,” she said, and hated the strain in her voice, the betraying tremble. “For
me
to let you go alone to New Eden, I would have to be the same person that you are under the influence of that device.”

“God, no.” He reached for her. “Yasmeen—”

She pulled away. If he touched her now, it would be too much. She had to shut it all away, to steel her heart, or begin weeping, sobbing…directly before speaking to her crew. They wouldn’t follow her anywhere.

She wouldn’t blame them.

His voice raw, Archimedes tried again. “Yasmeen, I just want to protect—”

“Don’t. Don’t even suggest it.” She drew her dagger, held it out to him. “You might as well take this blade and shove it through my heart now.”

He didn’t take it. Of course he didn’t. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. She
knew
that…but knowing meant nothing compared to the growing ache in her chest, the tightness of her throat. She had to go up top and pretend this pain didn’t exist. Had to pretend she wasn’t terrified that half her crew would decide she wasn’t worth following, and leave.

She paused at the door. Perhaps it was weak, but she needed this from him now. “You’d be risking Zenobia by hiring
someone else. Someone not as good. Do you want that, instead?”

He closed his eyes. “No.”

Then Yasmeen could hold on to that, at least.

*   *   *

You know everything I am.

God, he did. Bred to guard Horde royalty, she’d grown up expecting to have her very
life
tethered to one person, to guard them or die trying. She’d escaped that life and made her own, but she hadn’t discarded everything from her training—she’d said that falling in love had been like tethering to him; her life was bound to his now. She took pride in standing beside him, protecting him…just as he did in standing by her.

He’d known all that—and he’d made a mess of it. He’d wanted to see her safe, and slapped at her pride and heart, instead.

But he couldn’t repair the damage right away. He could only stand beside her now.

On the main deck, everyone aboard had gathered amidships. The aviators had clustered in front, the engineers and senior crew to starboard, and the others scattered in between. Thirty men and woman—plus five girls and two boys. He knew their names now, most of their stories.

Yasmeen took the quarterdeck. Behind her, steam billowed in great clouds—the boilers at full, but the engines quiet for the next few minutes. The wind wafted thick tendrils of mist around the balloon, as if they were floating backward through a heavy fog. Archimedes stepped onto the quarterdeck, took his place behind her. Perhaps she didn’t want him there now; he didn’t know. It wouldn’t have mattered, anyway. Even if she put a knife to his throat and told him to go, he’d never do anything but stand with her.

It was impossible to judge her reaction. Her expression appeared colder, harder than he’d seen in months—flint and steel, an angry fire waiting to be struck. The aviators quieted. Yasmeen’s voice carried over them.

“I am putting to rest the speculation that has run rampant aboard this ship since last evening, when I shot our passenger,
Mr. Bilson—speculation that has increased since our hasty departure for Fladstrand this morning.”

She paused, as if in silent reprimand for their gossiping. Archimedes knew that she thought such speculations were to be expected, and mostly harmless. She only ever squashed rumors if they threatened to disrupt the order aboard her ship—and typically, the quartermaster or the mates squashed them, first. But she couldn’t mention their speculation without also correcting it, even if that correction lasted only the space of a breath.

A few aviators squirmed. That seemed to satisfy her. “Some of you remember Miss Zenobia Fox, who traveled with us from England to Fladstrand this spring. She is Mr. Fox’s sister, and the author of the Archimedes Fox adventures—and now the Lady Lynx adventures, as well. Last night, we discovered that Mr. Bilson had arranged her kidnap.”

A murmur passed through the gathered crew, a swelling of outrage and excitement. This demanded action, adventure—and undoubtedly, a fine reward. For many of them, this was probably what they’d hoped to find aboard her airship, and within a few months, she’d served it to them in spades. Escorting pilgrims to Mecca over Horde-occupied lands, encountering airship pirates in Venice and off the shores of the Canary Islands, carrying sharkhunters to the southern tip of the Americas, scouting for rebels in Castile, an unexpected run-in with smugglers at the Hapsburg Wall. Yes, they’d had adventures—enough even for Archimedes.

“Miss Fox has been taken to New Eden,” Yasmeen said. “
Lady Nergüi
is going after her.”

The excitement turned to disbelief. A discontented muttering began, heads turning as if they were all confirming what they’d heard.

Yasmeen held up her hand. Instant silence fell. “I recognize that to many of you, New Eden is a risk you wouldn’t want to take. That any airship wouldn’t take. And that you’d think any captain who tried is a fool.”

She said what they wouldn’t dare to…not where she might hear. Clever. On any vessel, whispers in the dark were the most dangerous. She brought it into the open.

And smashed it. “I’m not a fool. I don’t plan to fly
Lady Nergüi
near to New Eden, but only close enough to enter the city in another way. There is a risk, however, and you have until tomorrow at noon to decide whether you’ll leave this ship. If so, you’ll walk away with a full month’s wages and a season’s share in your purse.” Her cold gaze swept over them. “Let me be clear. New Eden poses no more threat than the Coiling Straits, the wall, or anywhere over Horde territory. There will
always
be danger aboard this ship. If you can’t face New Eden, then you aren’t suited for any other dangers we face—and you aren’t suited for my lady’s crew.”