Heart of Steel - Meljean Brook [27]
Pegg’s hand remained frozen on the windlass’s lever, her eyes wide and fixed on Archimedes’ face. After a sharp look from the captain, the aviator managed to stammer a reply. Yasmeen nodded briskly and started for the quarterdeck. Archimedes followed, aware of the nudges and whispers moving from aviator to aviator, the surprise and the disbelief. Several crossed themselves—they must have been Castilian, Lusitanian, or hedging their bets.
And amusement was exactly the right way to play his return from the dead, Archimedes realized. It was as if the captain had never expected any other outcome after she’d thrown him from the ship.
Rousseau waited amidships, near the ladder that led to the lower decks. The quartermaster had been with Lady Corsair since the war, but whether he’d fought for the French or Liberé, Archimedes hadn’t been able to guess. Aside from the lift of impressive black brows, the man didn’t comment on his miraculous reappearance.
Formally, he stepped to the side as Yasmeen approached, deferring to her lead. “Your ship, Captain,” he said.
“Thank you, Mr. Rousseau.” She crushed out her cigarillo. “You remember Mr. Fox, of course, and how our last meeting concluded with me dropping him into a canal to see whether he could swim.”
The quartermaster’s mouth twitched. “Yes, Captain.”
“It turns out that he can. So I’ve lost that bet, and now I’ll feature in his newest adventure.”
“As a villain, of course,” Archimedes said. No need to tarnish her reputation.
“Of course, sir.” Rousseau looked him over. “How far did you have to swim?”
“Only to the door I’d been using as a raft. From there, I rowed to sea.”
Rousseau nodded. “A boat picked you up?”
“Yes.” And a boat in the Adriatic meant either smugglers or Horde fishermen. “But if I tell you about it now, you won’t have reason to buy copies of the serial adventure.”
The amusement in Yasmeen’s eyes warmed to something genuine. She continued on to the ladder. “Mr. Rousseau, please inform Ginger that I’ll be in my cabin. I won’t need dinner, but she can bring mine for Mr. Fox.”
“Right away, Captain.” Rousseau turned toward the bank of copper pipes that ran throughout the ship and allowed the aviators to communicate between decks.
Archimedes followed Yasmeen down the ladder and into a dimly lit passageway. Ropes and gliders hung from bulkheads. At the end of the corridor, the captain’s quarters occupied almost a full third of the deck, with the passenger cabins directly below. Narrow doors along the passageway led to locked storerooms and berths for the senior crew members.
A sturdy, dark-haired girl of twelve or thirteen in a cobalt tunic and loose trousers emerged from a small cabin near the entrance to the captain’s quarters. Archimedes had a glimpse of bunks filled with two more girls before she slid the door closed. The girl turned to the side to let them pass, standing tall with her shoulders pressed against the wooden bulkhead.
“Only one dinner, Captain?”
“Yes, Ginger.” She hauled off her long coat and handed it over to the girl. “Tea for me.”
As soon as they were past, the girl took off at a run, her bare feet slapping the boards. Though Archimedes wasn’t hungry, he wouldn’t refuse food from Lady Corsair’s galley. Fragrant and delicious, the dinner he’d taken here had rivaled any other meal that he’d ever eaten. The same couldn’t be said of the fare on many airships.
Still, he had to wonder about the offer. “Should I check for poison?”
“I can fit my fist between your stomach and the buckles of your waistcoat, Mr. Fox. How long were you at sea?”
Long enough. The whole ordeal had stripped every pound of extra weight from his body and then some. But if his appearance made her imagine putting her hands under his clothes, it was worth the hunger he’d suffered. “As I’m still alive, it obviously wasn’t too long.”
“And what sort of boat rescued you?” She glanced back at him. “As you are still alive, it obviously wasn’t a smuggler’s.”
“No, but I’ll ask Zenobia to tell it that way.”
“And what would be the true route?”
“A fisherman’s boat