Heart of Steel - Meljean Brook [42]
Even that meant risking an insult: officials and dargas were assigned to the territories outside of Asia as a punishment, not reward. Temür hadn’t retaliated, but from the beginning of his governorship, rumors had been swirling that he was amassing great power in Morocco and would soon try to march across the empire. Ten years had passed, and he hadn’t yet—but Yasmeen wouldn’t place bets against it happening, eventually.
She didn’t care one way or another. In the meantime, she avoided Morocco as much as possible. Archimedes apparently hadn’t had the sense to, and the idea that he’d hidden from the woman amused Yasmeen; obviously, someone had explained what the elite guards were capable of, but hadn’t mentioned that they weren’t rabid murderers who gutted everyone who passed them. Only loyalty and duty were more sacred to the guard than self-control and compassion. If the woman had found him huddling near a crate, she’d have probably given him a blanket or a coin.
Unless Archimedes had reason to think the woman had targeted him.
Yasmeen froze with her cigarillo halfway to her lips. “Your debt,” she said. “Is it to Temür Agha?”
“Yes.”
Her stomach rolled into a hard knot. “And that woman was his guard?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see her clearly. I didn’t want to take the risk.”
Only an idiot would. “I saw her clearly. What did Temür Agha’s guard look like?”
“Long black hair, braided here.” His fingers met at the center of his forehead and dragged back over his ears. “Beautiful. Skin like teak on her face, but gray hands.”
Yasmeen pursed her lips. He’d just described half of the elite guard after the women had been altered with mechanical flesh. “Anything helpful? Was she tall? Full-lipped, thin-nosed, curly-haired, round-faced? Did her features give any hint of her ancestry? Did you hear her speak?”
“Straight hair. She didn’t speak. She was as tall as that blacksmith.” He indicated Ivy. “A Turk, perhaps. Or Hindustani.”
A better description, but it was still impossible to be certain. “Perhaps the woman I saw was Temür’s guard, then. But as two months have passed and you aren’t dead, I suspect not.”
Yasmeen hoped not. If she discovered that the woman had boarded her lady, Yasmeen wouldn’t be able to avenge her crew alone; she’d need to hire a group of mercenaries and assassins. If the woman was Temür Agha’s guard, however, it hardly mattered whether Yasmeen went by herself or with a small army; either would turn into a suicide mission.
“Franz Kessler and her presence on the docks might be a coincidence,” Archimedes said softly. “But not likely. If Kessler had told her of the sketch, she might have guessed it was aboard Lady Corsair. Were all of your crew killed before the explosion?”
Yasmeen nodded. He’d put it together exactly as she had. “They barely had time to draw their weapons.”
“That sounds like the elite guard. What I’ve heard they can do.”
“What they can do, yes.” But not what they would do—and that was where Yasmeen became uncertain again. “But if she was only after the sketch, she could have stolen it without killing anyone, and without anyone aboard seeing her.”
“And if she couldn’t open your strongbox?”
Would she rage through the airship, taking out her frustration on the crew? Yasmeen didn’t think so. But perhaps the woman hadn’t been alone. Though Ginger had never seen who’d attacked her, she’d had an impression of “they.” Yet at such a moment, in the dark, one quick person could have seemed like many.
Yasmeen simply didn’t know. “Whatever happened, when she didn’t find the sketch, she might have realized that you’d had it when you left my lady.”
“If she saw me,” Archimedes said.
“She saw you.”
“But—”
“She saw you.” Suddenly amused, Yasmeen caught his gaze. He’d managed to surprise her by hiding beside a crate in a pile of rags, but he wouldn’t have escaped the attention of that woman. “Even if we’re wrong and she was only strolling