The Dragon Men

Alice could also make out large, round buildings that her experience in Kiev told her were petroleum distilleries. It made sense-dirigibles were a major market for paraffin oil, and there was no sense in paying to haul the stuff any farther than necessary. The ship dipped lower, and the smell of petroleum grew stronger. It was hardly the romantic place she had imagined spending the first night of her engagement.

Well, really! she told herself. Have you learned nothing in the last few weeks? If no one gives you what you want, you must take it.

With that, she strode across the deck, trailing little automatons and snatched the sherry bottle from Phipps’s brass hand with her ironclad one.

“Oi!” Phipps protested. “That’s mine!”

“What the heck?” Gavin said.

“Go away,” Alice snapped at Phipps. “Belowdecks.”

Phipps rose slowly to her feet and stared at Alice for a long moment, the red lens of her monocle glistening bloodred in the late light. Then she nodded once and picked up the dark Impossible Cube from the deck. “I think I’ll stash this and perhaps take a nap. Wake me when we’ve moored.” With that, she went below.

“All of you, too,” Alice said to the automatons, who were chasing one another about the deck. “Now!”

Startled, the flock of automatons froze for a moment, then skittered into an open hatchway. The only one left up top was Click, who pointedly continued staring over the side as if Alice hadn’t spoken.

“Bloody cat,” Alice muttered.

“What was that all about?” Gavin enquired. “We’re almost to the mooring field, you know.”

In answer, Alice grabbed the front of his jacket with her free hand and pulled him in for a long kiss. He smelled of mist and leather, and he tasted of salt. Gavin stiffened, startled. Then his hands left the helm, and his arms went strong around her. She pressed against him, feeling both safe and hungry. Her hand ran through his hair, silky as feathers, and his callused palm caressed her face and neck, then stole over her breast. Her breath quickened, and a warmth spread through her. Then she pulled back.

“Wow,” he said. “What was that for?”

“I call for a toast, Mr. Ennock”-she raised the sherry bottle-“to celebrate our engagement and those brilliant, beautiful wings you invented. If I can’t have you for long, I intend to enjoy your company for every moment we have left.” Her voice quavered for a moment, and she covered by taking a pull directly from the bottle. The sherry, too sweet and too warm, burned all the way down. “To the best damned clockworker in the whole damned world!”

“Why, Lady Michaels,” Gavin laughed, taking the bottle from her, “you foul-mouthed hussy! I never thought I’d see the day!”

“You’ve seen nothing, Mr. Ennock,” she replied, and kissed him again. This time her hands wandered greedily over his chest and back, wanting to touch him, drink him in as she had the sherry. She moved her body against his and felt him harden, which caused her own deep self to pulse.

When they separated, he took a swig from the bottle. “To the best and most talented woman in the goddamned universe!”

“And don’t you forget it, sir,” Alice said. She slid her hands around his strong, solid body again, not wanting to let go for a moment. Never, ever letting go. “I have many talents, some of which I haven’t yet developed.”

He buried his face in her hair. “I look forward to charting unexplored territory.”

They stayed like that for several moments while air and sky played over them. Then Alice reluctantly stepped away. What she intended to say next was difficult, but it needed to be discussed. The words stuck in her throat at first, but she decided she wasn’t having any of that nonsense anymore, and she would speak. The words came in a rush.

“So, what are we going to do about getting you into China, darling? I refuse to let something as petty as an empire stand in the way of finding your cure.”

She gave a short, sharp sigh. A burden she hadn’t realized she was carrying lifted and floated away. What a strange thing-once the words were said aloud, they lost their power.

“I’ve actually been thinking about that,” Gavin replied.

“Have you?” she said with a smile.

“It’s an occupational hazard with clockworkers. We never stop.”

“Truly? This strikes me as more of a social problem,” Alice said. “And with the sole exception of my aunt Edwina, I’ve yet to meet a clockworker who excelled in the social arena.”

“I’m also an airman,” Gavin pointed out, “and you might remember how the Juniper did her share of. . untaxed shipping.”

“Smuggling,” said the newly forthright Alice.

“If you like,” Gavin sniffed. “Anyway, you can’t possibly make a border that big airtight, and I happen to know that for the right price, an untaxed shipper-”

“Smuggler.”

“Smuggler will move anything you like. That includes people. We just need to find such a person.”

“Iffy,” Alice mused. “We’d be putting our trust in a criminal.”

“Not all smugglers are bad people,” Gavin said in a pained voice. “Some of them are just trying to avoid stupidly high tariffs.”

Alice narrowed her eyes. “You’re smuggling right now, aren’t you? What have you hidden on this ship?”

“Well, technically. .”

“Gavin! What are you-?”

They were interrupted by a mechanical yowl. Click was arching his back on the gunwale at a looming airship ten times the size of the Lady. Gavin had taken his hands off the helm during the. . discussion with Alice, and neither of them had noticed the ship veering into danger. Gavin spun the helm with a yelp and Alice slapped switches on the generator. The Lady’s glow dimmed, and the little ship swooped starboard even as it dropped, missing the other ship by a mere few yards. Alice’s stomach lurched, and she caught faint shouts of outrage from the deck of the other ship. The Lady sped away like a minnow fleeing a whale. Gavin caught Alice’s eye. And they both started to laugh. Click pulled his claws out of the decking and turned his back on them in disgust.

“Well, Mr. Ennock,” Alice said, “we seem to have a knack for attracting and averting disaster together.”

“True, Lady Michaels. It’s the second talent that gives me hope.”

Later, they were mooring the ship at the edge of the dusty landing field just outside the walls of Tehran. Hot sunlight mixed with the unpleasant smells from the distilleries, which also clanked and grumbled like metal jungle animals. There were only a few of the enormous, rounded hangars available, and Gavin said the rent for them was atrocious, so they powered down the Lady’s envelope and together staked her to the ground outside among other airships, and even for this there was a fee that set Gavin to grumbling. Puffs of dust rose up like tiny djinn every time Alice took a step.

“You’d better hide in the hold while I pay,” Gavin said. “Al-Noor might have been lying or mad or both, but if there really is a price on your head, we don’t want the controller to be the person who recognizes you. Stay down there until I have the chance to run into town and find something appropriate for you to wear.”

Alice looked down at her modest blue dress. “Appropriate?”

“For a Turkmen woman,” Gavin clarified. “We’re in Persia, you know. You need some native clothing so you can blend in. Don’t let anyone aboard while I’m gone.”

“What are you smuggling, Gavin?” she asked. “Technically?”

“Technically? My wings. The Impossible Cube. And probably you,” he said lightly, and kissed her cheek before sliding down a rope to the ground below.

Alice dutifully climbed up to hide in the hold with Gavin’s new wings at her feet and her automatons perched on her shoulders. She peeped out a porthole while Gavin talked to a swarthy man in red blousy trousers and a tall, furry hat. A considerable amount of money exchanged hands. Alice held her breath, but the man strutted away without demanding to inspect the cargo hold. Gavin followed a moment later, heading toward the city walls and leaving a trail in the dust. She waited for a considerable time in the afternoon heat, but after a short while her eyes started to droop, and she found she couldn’t stay awake. The day’s excitement and the sherry were having an effect. Perhaps she could creep off to her stateroom bunk as Phipps had done. But no-simpler just to curl up on this pile of sacking near the bulkhead. The automatons would wake her if a stranger-