Heart of Steel - Meljean Brook [4]
Completely wrecked and ridiculous,
Archimedes
P.S. Do not begin scheming yet! I shall return, of course. I will be three weeks in Venice, add on a few days for the flight; you should expect a letter this time next month, and my visit a few days after—unless I have found something worth taking to auction. If I have, I will head directly to the Ivory Market, but I will send a letter regardless, including every detail of the encounter between Archimedes Fox and the Captivating Captain Cutthroat.
Venice
October 8
Zenobia,
You are expecting a letter this week, but I am only now writing it. I’ve little hope that you will be able to read the words when you eventually receive it; the ink bleeds on the damp paper even as I stroke my pen. Everything in Venice is damp, grown over with mold and ivy.
It has taken me almost seven days to travel half a mile, though when I first arrived, I was traveling the same distance through the canals in an hour. The breathing apparatus works perfectly. The food pack that the inventor in Copenhagen promised was watertight began leaking swamp water within a day, however, and my supplies rotted within a week—even my gunpowder is soaked and my pistols are useless. I dare not risk the same leaks in my satchel. I have made an Astonishing Discovery, one that will solve my Awful Dilemma. Yet it will be all for naught if my discovery becomes wet.
If I were a practical man of good sense and judgment, I would abandon the treasure and make an attempt to recover it later, or take the risk that the satchel would remain watertight. But we both know that if I do not pay off this debt soon, I will not have another chance. I have killed too many of his assassins. Soon, he will send one that I cannot possibly defeat.
So I am on foot, traveling from deteriorating roof to deteriorating roof. Fifteen minutes ago, it began raining, and I’ve taken shelter in one of the upper chambers of a palazzo. Water has flooded the ground levels, and so the zombies are trapped in the building—God knows how long they have been trapped here, three hundred years perhaps—and I have provided them their first entertainment in as long. I can hear them mobbing the door. But I am in luck. Unlike most of the houses, the wood has not rotted, and the interior walls still stand. I will try to take a rest while it rains, but I fear sleeping too long.
I am late returning to the airship. By some miracle, Lady Corsair still waits for me. I can see her white balloon from my window, hovering over the rusted ruins of the great basilica, exactly where I asked her captain to meet me a week ago. Was it only my waistcoat, is it the remainder of my payment, or does she have tender feelings for me? If it is not that, I must make certain that she eventually comes to care for me. I have had much time to think, and I have heard that extreme hunger clears the mind. I have seen that she respects the Iron Duke—a man who Gives Orders—and so to win her heart, perhaps I will affect the same attitude when I next see her.
That must be soon. I cannot hold out hope that she will wait much longer.
The airship is only a mile away. I have searched for a boat or a gondola, but every one of them must have been taken centuries ago when people fled the zombie infection, or has sunk. I think that the chamber door might serve as a raft, however—keeping me dry while I paddle through the canal, where the aviators will certainly see me. I will only have to remove the hinges and throw it over the balcony into the canal. If it floats, I will lower myself on top of it. When I remove the hinges, however, I will have no protection—and I do not know how many zombies are in the palazzo.
Night approaches, and the light grows dim. I would continue, but my spark lighter is also damp. Rusted iron hinges and a valiant fight await. What an adventure