watched in startled amazement. Dirigibles she had seen, but never one hovering over her own house.
“There’s no space to land it on the street, which is why we’re on the roof. Up we go,” Simon said. “Does it make you nervous, Miss Michaels?”
It did, but the thought of appearing nervous in front of these people spurred Alice forward. “Not at all. Eyes down, Mr. Ennock. You, too, Mr. d’Arco.” She swarmed up the ladder. At the top, a thin, balding man with elaborate muttonchop whiskers gave her a hand into the gondola, then helped Glenda, Gavin, and Simon aboard. Simon folded up the ladder.
“You’re Pilot?” Gavin asked.
The thin man nodded and wordlessly turned to a small wheel Alice remembered was called a helm. Gavin expertly flicked the tether free, and the little propeller engines on the sides of the gondola whirred to life.
“Have you ever flown before, Miss Michaels?” Gavin asked.
“No,” Alice said as the city slid away below. Bitter-smelling coal smoke rose from a thousand chimneys, and a thousand people, horses, and automatons filled the streets. From up here, she could even see into the alleyways, where plague zombies shambled through the shadows, looking for garbage. A trio of well-dressed women in emerald dresses strolled the cobblestones, carrying signs that read DON’T THROW YOUR VOTE AWAY and THE AD HOC NEEDS YOU, unaware that only a few paces away a zombie lurked in the shadows, forced to hide from painful sunlight. Alleys emerged into side streets and joined larger streets, like tributaries joining rivers.
“It’s fascinating,” she breathed.
“It’s the most wonderful place to be,” Gavin told her, and she noticed how closely they were forced to stand in the confines of the tiny gondola. He looked happy, even thrilled, and that started a warm bit of happiness glowing inside Alice. She almost took his hand. He leaned over the side, and for a moment she thought he might leap over the edge and soar away.
“How do you know where to go?” Alice said. “Don’t you get lost?”
“It’s the same as on a ship, ma’am,” Pilot said. “We can use a chart with coordinates. We’re coming up on Buckingham Palace, for example, and that’s at fifty-one degrees, thirty minutes north, zero degrees, and eight minutes west. Of course, over London, it’s easier just to look down. You learn your way.”
“Does this ship go any higher?” Gavin asked of Pilot.
“Not with all these people in it,” the man grumbled.
Simon clapped Gavin on the back. “Lots of chances for flying in the Third Ward, Gav-Mr. Ennock.”
“You can call me Gavin,” he said. “I don’t mind.”
“I’m Simon. We’re very informal around the Ward, you see. It sets us apart from… everyone else.”
“What exactly is the Third Ward?”
“It’ll be easier to show you than tell you,” Glenda said.
As Pilot predicted, they passed almost directly over Buckingham Palace, official residence of Queen Victoria for twenty years now. Alice felt her own excitement and almost jumped up and down like a little girl at the sight. The Queen had ascended the throne when Alice was a baby, and like many English, Alice couldn’t remember or imagine a time without Queen Victoria and Prince Albert ruling the Empire. Alice looked down at the square, stately building surrounded by green gardens and wondered if the Queen were at this moment signing a proclamation or receiving an important dignitary or perhaps just sipping tea from a porcelain cup in a lavishly decorated hall. How wonderful and strange to glide above her.
Another section of the city passed beneath them, and then the airship passed over a stone wall surrounding another generous section of greenery, in the center of which lay a white mansion surrounded by outbuildings. The airship drifted gently downward to land with a soft bump on the lawn in front of the great house, and a pair of workmen dashed over to secure the ship. Everyone scrambled to disembark, and Glenda led them up the steps into the house.
The interior bustled with activity. Men dressed in business attire, servant livery, and ordinary workaday clothing hurried about on mysterious errands. There were even a number of women, though that shouldn’t have surprised Alice by now. Glenda guided them down a series of corridors, past rooms large and small. Alice and Gavin caught sight of several laboratories and workrooms. An enormous half-constructed automaton stood in one of them, while two men attached sheets of metal to it. Another laboratory sported bubbling beakers and winding copper tubes. A cage in the corner held half a dozen plague zombies who watched Alice with empty eyes as she passed. Yet another room was coated in fog, and a male figure appeared to be frozen in a block of ice. Alice couldn’t keep from staring.
“You’re very busy here,” she said breathlessly.
“They keep us occupied,” Simon replied with a smile.
“Where are we going?” Gavin asked.
“Here.” Glenda knocked once on a closed door, then ushered Gavin and Alice into an office, or perhaps it was a library. Floor-to-ceiling shelves held books, maps, scrolls, and strange instruments Alice couldn’t identify. Tall windows looked out over the grounds, and thick Persian rugs covered the floors. The center of the room was dominated by a large desk piled with neat stacks of papers. An odd combination telegraph machine and typewriter occupied one corner. Behind the desk sat a tall woman with black hair pulled into a French twist. She wore a man’s military uniform, crisp and blue, with gold epaulets. It was specially cut to expose her left arm, which was entirely mechanical. Alice noted with a start that it had six fingers. An elaborate brass-rimmed monocle covered the woman’s left eye, and a small sign on her desk read LIEUTENANT SUSAN PHIPPS.
“The ones from our report, Lieutenant,” Glenda said. “Alice Michaels, daughter of Arthur, Baron Michaels, and Gavin Ennock from Boston.”
“Thank you, Glenda,” said Lieutenant Phipps. Her voice was quick and sharp as a pair of scissors. “Excellent work, both of you. Simon, please meet us down in the sound laboratory in ten minutes.”
Glenda and Simon withdrew. Phipps pointed to a pair of wooden chairs across from her desk. “Sit. Please.”
Alice and Gavin sat. Gavin looked solemn but at ease, and Alice supposed that as an airman, he was used to a military chain of command. For her own part, Alice found Lieutenant Phipps more than a little intimidating, and she forced herself to sit with her hands in her lap, though she wanted to twist at her skirt as she had as a child. She tried not to stare at Phipps, this woman who dressed and spoke like a man, and broke so many traditional rules. But of course, she was part of this Third Ward, and the Ward clearly welcomed Ad Hoc women.
Phipps set a packet of papers aside and pulled the telegraph-typewriting machine toward them on its rolling stand. The machine had a recording horn on it. Phipps spun a crank on the side and fed a long scroll of paper into the typewriter’s platen. “I’m sure you’re wondering what’s going on and why you’re here, so I’ll come straight to the point. First, I need to hear from you everything that happened at that country house. Don’t leave anything out. Mr. Ennock, you start. I understand you used to play fiddle in Hyde Park.”
Gavin told his story. As he spoke, the machine sprang to life. The typewriter clacked, and Gavin’s words skittered across the scroll. Gavin paused in surprise. Alice leaned forward. Her fingers itched to take the side panels off the machine so she could examine how the insides worked, discover how many memory wheels it took to translate sound into written words. Phipps pressed a switch on the machine and it stopped.
“Ignore the transcription, Mr. Ennock,” she said. “It’s for our records. Continue.”
He did. When he finished, Phipps had Alice tell her story as well. The machine wrote it all down. Phipps tore the scroll off, rolled it up, and put it in a drawer.
“Is that all?” Alice asked. “Are we free to go?”
“One more point.” Phipps steepled her fingers, brass and steel on flesh. “I need you both to listen carefully. The Third Ward is a busy and chronically understaffed organization, and we’re crying for talent. Based on what I’ve learned about the two of you over the last several days, I’m prepared to offer you positions as agents with us. The salary starts at five hundred pounds per annum, and room and board at cost, if you desire it.”
Alice gaped. It was the last thing she’d been expecting to hear. She exchanged a quick glance with Gavin and understood that he felt the same way. “I don’t understand,” she said slowly. “What exactly does the Third Ward-”
“Did you say five hundred pounds?” Gavin interrupted.
“I did,” answered Phipps. “And before you answer, let me show you what it means to be an agent of the Third Ward.”
She strode for the door without looking behind. Alice and Gavin rushed to catch her up. Phipps marched
