Heart of Steel - Meljean Brook [39]
War and taxes. The Horde and the New World were separated by oceans, but in Yasmeen’s experience, all civilizations were the same in essentials.
But because she was feeling generous, she wouldn’t disrupt their quiet breakfast by saying so.
Dawn had filled the clouded sky with a faint light when Yasmeen emerged onto the weather deck. The chill wind slapped her face. She folded her heavy collar up, tugged her woolen scarf in place over her nose and mouth. Vesuvius had anchored near the north dock. Her gaze searched the busy boardwalk, the dinghies cutting across the water, the rowboats-for-hire.
A flash of bright color near a tinker’s cart caught her attention—a tall man wearing lime-green breeches. Though he faced away from her and a hat concealed his hair, that couldn’t be anyone but Archimedes.
So he’d come.
She reached for her silver cigarillo case. Tucked into her belt, it had been one of the few things that had survived the explosion and her fall into the harbor. Her gloves made her fingers thick, and she fumbled the catch before sliding it open. Only a few cigarillos remained inside. No matter. When Ivy Blacksmith retrieved the strongbox from beneath the water, she’d buy more.
The cigarillo calmed her jumping nerves. On the docks, Archimedes weaved through the carts and coaches, passing the boats-for-hire. Was he light on coins? If the sketch had been stolen, maybe his purse had been, too.
But, no. He stopped by a messenger in an autogyro, and a coin passed between them. Perhaps sending the message that he couldn’t join her?
Footsteps approached across the boards. Yasmeen recognized Ivy’s quick stride and turned to greet the blacksmith. Her copper hair tucked beneath a wool cap and her freckled cheeks red from the cold, the woman usually wore a smile that was sweet to behold.
But now she was grinning, all but vibrating with excitement. “It’s ready as soon as you are. We only need to sail closer to the south dock before we launch.”
Yasmeen glanced around the decks. Though she had no doubt that Ivy’s submersible had been brilliantly designed and perfectly constructed, the diving machine hadn’t been tested before. If the blacksmith went into the water and anything were to happen to her, Mad Machen would likely go truly mad, and strangle Yasmeen for not stopping her. But if he were here from the outset, he’d only blame himself.
“Where’s Captain Machen?”
Ivy’s grin became a laugh. “There.” With a hand made of mechanical flesh, she pointed to an old herring buss floating nearby, its sails furled. “It’s Big Thom’s salvage ship. Eben’s borrowing his diving suit so that he can keep an eye on me while I’m down there.”
Madness. The whole point of the submersible was that it would be safer than a suit, but Eben had a reputation to uphold. A feared pirate couldn’t also be a softhearted sap who desperately loved a sweet blacksmith, so he’d worry about her below the water, where there wouldn’t be any witnesses to it—and probably claim that he only wanted to prevent Ivy from using the submersible to escape him.
Still, those dive suits were a death trap. Love made idiots of everyone. “A gold sous says that you end up rescuing him,” she said.
“I’d be a fool to bet against that.” Ivy’s gray, ungloved fingers curled over the edge of the gunwale as she leaned forward, eyes widening. “Is that man attacking the messenger?”
Yasmeen looked to the docks, where the autogyro was hovering above the boards, the young messenger’s legs spinning full tilt, the long blades a blur overhead. Beneath it, Archimedes had hold of the horizontal steel bar that served as the bottom of the boy’s seat frame. He began to run, pushing the autogyro to the edge of the dock, the unbuckled sides of his overcoat flapping open like wings and revealing an orange waistcoat.
“Oh, blue heavens!” Ivy cried out as man and autogyro dropped from the dock, wobbling wildly. His boots splashed in the water before the machine leveled out and began to gain altitude. Archimedes whooped, and his familiar deep laughter