Heart of Steel - Meljean Brook [45]
Yasmeen ignored the ache in her throat, the sudden tightness around her lungs. “Mr. Pessinger,” she supplied. “That was Ivy’s work, too.”
“Ah. Why am I not surprised? I thought they were mechanical flesh until Pegg let me have a closer look. But her prosthetic was an actual machine, not metal made flesh and shaped by the nanoagents. I’ve never seen such intricate gearwork and hydraulics before. Incredible.”
“Yes.”
She couldn’t keep the thickness out of her voice. Archimedes’ head swung round, his gaze sharpening. Avoiding his eyes, she handed him the first of the brass guards that buckled around his lower leg—he could put these on himself.
“Won’t you go down with us?” he asked softly.
“To see my lady broken and to pick at her shattered bones?” She’d do better stabbing herself through the heart. “No, thank you, Mr. Fox. I’ll leave the traipsing through ruins to you.”
His eyes searched her face for a long moment before he nodded and stooped to fasten the guards at his lower legs and thighs. She buckled more plates over his chest, back, and arms, until he resembled an invading crusader from the centuries before the Horde’s invasions.
She hefted the domed helmet over his head and fastened the bolts, then tapped the round glass plate over his face. “You ought to have had one of these in Venice! I couldn’t have lifted you to toss you over!”
His muffled laugh fogged the small window. She smiled in response, and his splayed, awkward walk across the boards continued to improve her mood. Big Thom verified the air flow in the domed helmet. The crew rolled back the net stretched across the gangway so that he wouldn’t have to climb over the side of the ship.
He dropped into the water a few minutes later, followed by the submersible. Mad Machen stood at Vesuvius’s starboard bulwark, his fingers clenched on the gunwale as the capsule sank beneath the surface. Yasmeen paced the decks and smoked the last of the cigarillos in her case.
Eleven hundred livre sat at the bottom of the harbor. That money was a skyrunner, swift and sleek. A full complement of arms and cannons. A seasoned crew, supplies. She’d buy mercenaries, information, loyalty. If necessary, she’d purchase a war and bring it to the doorstep of those who’d dared to hurt those under her protection.
They’d pay. Oh, how they’d pay.
A shout hailed from starboard. Heart pounding, Yasmeen ran to the side. The water alongside the ship seemed to boil, and the submersible suddenly emerged through the roiling surface—with Archimedes riding astride the large capsule. Hoots of laughter and lewd shouts joined the cheers of the crew, and this time Yasmeen was inclined to agree with them: The man did have enormous balls.
Mad Machen ordered his men to the hoist. Below, Ivy threw her hatch open and poked her head out. Her gaze locked with the pirate’s before she searched out Yasmeen’s.
Her grin almost split her pale cheeks. “We got it!”
They had it, but forever seemed to pass before she saw it. The submersible’s cable winch had to be wound by hand, and even after Big Thom replaced the straining crew, the going was slow. Brought in too fast on a rocking ship and swinging cable, the strongbox could smash like a cannonball against the hull.
Yasmeen distracted herself by helping Archimedes out of his suit, and shouted for coffee and a blanket when she saw the chattering of his teeth, discovered the icy cold of his hands. When she rubbed his fingers between her own, a man had never seemed so pleased with himself.
But, hell—she was pleased with him, too. She was pleased with the whole damn world.
The strongbox finally lifted out of the water, the casing dull but undamaged. Archimedes stood beside her, a wool blanket clutched over his shoulders, as Big Thom carefully brought the strongbox around over the side and lowered it to the deck. Yasmeen sank to