Tin Swift

“Isn’t that something?” Hink said. “Or maybe it’s not. She come and go like that a lot?”

The captain pulled out a chair and folded down into it with a grateful grunt.

“She’s usually very clear,” Cedar said. “Days have been hard lately.”

“Ain’t they always?” Hink took one last drink from the flask, then tucked it back into his coat.

“Molly didn’t recognize the ship,” Cedar said.

“Seldom’s putting his eyes on it. We’ll know soon.”

“Bad kind of hole to die in,” Cedar noted.

“Haven’t yet met a hole I wanted to die in,” Hink agreed. “Ansell’s putting fuel on board before he beds down. Coal. And he has the barrels out to catch the rain. If we need to crack the sky, we’ll have power.”

“Will the ship hold together for flight?”

“Not far. And this is the last friendly, well, relatively so, resupply station that has what we’d need for repairs. If you want to get those women to Kansas, we’ll need the day, maybe two.”

“I don’t know that Rose has that long.”

Hink looked up at Cedar. The captain’s eyes were sober, tired. None of them had snatched more than a handful of sleep. And the captain looked like he’d been riding too hard for too long well before they’d fallen in together.

Cedar lowered his voice. “There is some chance the Holder would heal her, set her to rights.”

“I’ll get her medicines,” Captain Hink said, “which you’ll pay me for. We’ll patch the Swift. If you have some clue as to where the…device…,” he said, avoiding using the word “Holder,” “is, then I’ll take you to it. But there just isn’t any more I can do at this point, Mr. Hunt. Picking up you and yours has put me behind, shot holes in my ship, and made a general mess of the life and dealings of both myself and my crew.”

“Our paths could part here,” Cedar said. “We’re grateful for your help out of Vicinity, and for putting us down to earth again. But there isn’t any reason we must continue on together.”

“Other than you owe me for those things.” Captain Hink leaned forward. “We had a deal, Mr. Hunt. And I’d be sorry to see what would happen if you stepped back on it.”

Mr. Seldom strolled into the room, his hard-soled boots somehow silent on the stone floor.

“So who’s our company, Mr. Seldom?” Hink asked.

“Coin de Paradis,” he said.

“Heard of them?” Hink asked.

He shook his head. “Northern from the look of her. French, from the sound.”

“How northern?” Cedar asked.

Seldom shrugged. “Pacific-rigged. Sleds for ice.”

“So she can ride the sea and the mountains,” Hink said. “Must be a regular delivery barge to Old Jack.”

“You don’t think she’s a glim ship?” Cedar asked.

“Not in a specific way,” Hink said. “Glim ship’s not going to be rigged to take the storms over the ocean, and won’t much care about landing in snow since pulling harvest in the brace of winter is just a quick way to catch a bad case of dead.”

He continued. “There ain’t a ship out there that would take the cold upper with the weight of extra equipment. So if she’s rigged Pacific and ice, she’s bringing supplies over and through on those conditions. I’d wager she’s come down from Fort Vancouver at least. Maybe up the Alaska territory. Old Jack has a hunger for things only got from exotic shores.”

“How many in the crew?” Cedar asked.

“Ten or less,” Seldom said.

“They tied down yet?” Hink asked.

Seldom shook his head. “Lashing on the south pad.”

“In that case, find us all some food, won’t you, Seldom? Something hot with meat in it.”

Seldom walked off out another door that must have been a larder and came back with a pot, which he set on a hook over the fire, and a pan he set to the side. Then he was gone again and back with supplies wrapped in brown paper and canvas.

He pulled his knife and got busy working up some food.

“Been here a time or two,” Cedar noted with a nod toward Seldom, who was moving around the kitchen like he grew up here.

“Sat out the tail end of winter a season or two back,” the captain said. “Us and four other crews. Got to know our way around the living quarters, but not much more. The tunnels Jack blasts in these mountains don’t have a map, except for whatever he keeps in his noggin. And every blast does as much to close down a tunnel as open another.

“Don’t go wandering off, Mr. Hunt. And for glim’s sake, don’t let Mae or Rose or that wolf of yours get out of eyesight.”

The scuff of approaching footsteps and low murmur of voices put a change in Captain Hink.

He gave Cedar one last nod, then leaned back, shifting his wide shoulders so one arm slung over the back of the chair, flask open in his hand. He smiled, and looked just a little drunk.

Which he most certainly was not.

Cedar eased back, but made no attempt to hide his manner. Friend or foe, he’d deal with it squarely.

Eight people walked into the room. Two women, one slender and tall as the men around her, wearing a proper skirt and corset, an umbrella clasped in her kid-gloved hand, the other shorter by at least a foot, uncovered hair hanging in two yellow braids, skirt split for riding. A lady and her maid? What were they doing all this way out in the hills? On an airship?

He scanned the men, looking to see if there was a husband or a father in the mix.

They were scanning him back. Four of the men had on gear that resembled the coats, vests, and harnesses Hink and his crew wore around as easy as tuckers and suspenders.

Cedar would count them as crew to the ship.

The man with the wild brown curls and impressive handlebar mustache might be the captain, and the other man, a quiet-looking fellow wearing a wool check suit, a bowler hat and sporting a carpetbag in one hand, didn’t quite fit in with Cedar’s notion of a crew. Maybe a passenger. Maybe a salesman.

“You must be Captain Hink.” The mustachioed man strolled across the room toward Hink with an easy roll to his gait and surveyed the place like he was inspecting a crop ripe for the picking.

“Oh, I’d say ‘must’ is a rather strong word, Captain.… Have we made acquaintance?” Hink didn’t stand. He just peered up at the man, who stopped next to their table.

“I’ve seen your ship,” the man said. “The Swift. Not a faster ship in the sky, nor a sharper man behind the wheel, they say. I am Captain Beaumont of the Coin de Paradis.”

“Pleased to make your meet,” Hink said, offering a hand but not budging from his chair. “Supply run?”

“Just so. I’m afraid I miscalculated the storm. And you?”

“Repairs mostly. Headed southwest to sit out the winter.”

“And your crew?” Captain Beaumont asked.

“Boots off. Except my second there, rustling pots. You’re welcome to join in the victuals if you want.”

“No, thank you. It’s been a long day in the sky and I must see to my passengers being settled properly.”

Beaumont’s crew spread out across the room, rucksacks over their shoulders as they headed toward the room where Rose and Mae had gone.

Guffin appeared at the door, picking at his fingernails with a knife. Wil paced out to stand beside him.

“Occupied,” he said. “Take the next door.”

At the sight of the wolf, the crewmen took a couple cautious steps back, then tromped off to another door down a ways.

The two women and the bowler-hatted man exchanged a startled look, glancing between the wolf and Cedar.

The tall woman finally spoke. “Captain Beaumont,” she said in a surprisingly rich French accent, “if it would be no bother, I would very much care for a hot meal.”

“Not at all, Miss Dupuis,” the captain said smoothly. “Please, make yourself comfortable.” He held his hand