so she simply dashed over to the zombie woman, pulling off the glove that covered her left hand as she went. It would be easy enough to cure the poor woman and catch the ship back up. She couldn’t save her family, but she could save this woman, and so many others like her. She had to do it, or what was the point of everything that had gone before?
The zombie woman barely reacted when Alice slashed her, but straightened fairly quickly. Much of the misery left her face, replaced with relief. She blinked and looked around, like a blind person seeing color again. Alice’s heart lightened. Every life she changed for the better made her own existence a bit more worthy. The zombie—now a full person again—wandered away with an expression of wonder.
Alice started, and her light mood evaporated. “Am I she, who?” she asked cautiously, also in French. The woman was young and very pretty, with enormous blue eyes.
“The one who cures people,” she clarified. “People with the plague.”
The airship-cum-wagon was pulling out of sight, but if this woman also needed help, Alice didn’t see how she could refuse.
“I am she,” she said.
The woman abruptly caught Alice in a hard embrace. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you. You are an angel.” She broke away, suddenly embarrassed, and said, “But where is your friend?”
“My friend?”
“The one whose music gives you power to cure them.”
“Oh.” Alice thought about correcting her, then thought the better of it. “He’s… he’s nearby.”
“There are more who need you. Many more. Can you come? Please?”
The airship was curving away, nearly gone. Alice chewed her lip. She was still angry, but she wasn’t stupid, either. “I can’t come right now, but I will, I promise. Where?”
“To the Church of Our Lady,” she said, “at the top of the hill in the center of the city. Ask for Monsignor Adames.”
“I promise,” Alice repeated, and ran back to the clattering airship. At the front with the horses, Dr. Clef was telling Nathan, “The closer one comes to its position in time, the farther one wanders from its position in space.”
She had just reached the ladder when a trio of men on horses cantered around the corner, the horses’ iron- shod hooves clattering on the cobblestones. The men wore smart blue uniforms, and one of them carried a torch. The woman fled into the shadows.
“You!” one of the men shouted at the airship in French. “Halt!”
Nathan and Dr. Clef stopped the team. Gavin poked his head over the gunwale, a startled and worried expression on his face. Alice hurried up the ladder, her hands chilly with apprehension.
“Where were you?” Gavin hissed at her.
“Never mind,” she whispered back. “Get out that nightingale.”
“What?”
“Just do it!”
“Yes, Officer?” Nathan asked pleasantly, also in French. He sucked at his pipe with outward calm, but Alice could see tension in him. Dr. Clef had slid to the side of the team opposite the two police officers and was keeping his head down, away from the torchlight.
“What are you doing out at this hour?” the first man snapped. He was older, and wasn’t carrying the torch.
“We are with the circus and had to move one of our cars,” Nathan replied. “It was the only time the tracks were free.”
“Where are your papers?”
“Here, sir. All signed and stamped.” Nathan drew a set from his pocket and handed them over. The man with the torch held the light so his superior could examine them. The third man took his horse around the other side of the disguised airship, clearly to make sure no one slipped away and vanished. Alice held her breath, hoping they would take the explanation and leave.
The officer gave the papers only a cursory glance. “We have reports of certain dangerous criminals from England and America. A woman with brown hair and a younger man with pale blond hair.”
“I was afraid of that,” Gavin whispered. “The Third Ward has connections all over Europe. Phipps must have talked to the police.”
“I’m from Ireland,” Nathan said.
“What about him?” The older officer pointed at Dr. Clef, who was still huddled behind the horse.
“He’s mute, and an idiot,” Nathan said. “His mother was a sideshow freak and he was born funny, but horses love him.”
“I still need to search this wagon,” the officer said.
Alice’s heart beat fast now. Before she could lose her nerve, she shouted over the gunwale in her heavily accented French, “What is wrong down there? We should not stop for long, you know.”
“Who’s there?” the lead officer called up. He drew a sword. “Show yourself!”
Alice tied a handkerchief over her hair in an impromptu head cloth and peered over the side. “I am Lombarda,
