“Newkirk, get these men back on their lines!” Alek ordered. Then he whispered to Deryn, “Take my arm. If you can stand up, he might not look too closely.”
“Stand on my right,” she said, grasping his shoulder. Alek counted down from three under his breath, then stood, pulling her up onto one leg. Together they faced Dr. Busk, who was making his way through the crowd with the marine guards.
Deryn shifted on her good leg beside Alek, threatening to pull him over. She
Alek gritted his teeth and nodded at Dr. Busk. “Mr. Sharp seems well enough.”
The surgeon looked Deryn up and down. “Should you be standing, Mr. Sharp? That was quite a spill.”
“It’s all right, sir. Just a banged-up knee.” She skidded forward a bit, and Alek helped her take a step. “I’ll walk it off.”
“Blast it, Sharp. Sit down.” Dr. Busk reached into his black leather bag and pulled out a pair of long scissors. “Let me take a look at that leg.”
Deryn glanced at Alek, nodding just a bit, and the two struggled together to a nearby flat rock. Deryn sat down heavily, and Bovril crawled up into her lap. She grimaced at the beast’s weight, but swallowed any cry of pain.
A metal stake had been pounded into the shaley stone beside her, and the landing rope that was lashed to it quivered with energy. Alek imagined it snapping with enough force to cut his head off, and glanced up at the bridge windows. He could just make out the captain peering down, his officers crowded around him.
“We got your message just in time,” Alek said.
“
“I wish I hadn’t sent the first one.” Deryn shook her head, stroking Bovril’s fur. “According to Miss Rogers, General Villa’s in the barking movie business! That’s why Hearst is smuggling him arms and film. He wants battle scenes for his newsreels.”
“Newsreels, fah!” Bovril said.
“Steady there, lad.” Dr. Busk was cutting away Deryn’s trouser leg above the knee. Her flesh looked pale around a purpling bruise.
She stared up at Alek, worry in her eyes. If theleg were broken, carrying off her deception would be impossible.
“Sir!” one of the marines called. “Someone’s coming.”
Dr. Busk didn’t look up. “Some diplomacy, Your Highness, if you please.”
“Of course.” Alek gave Deryn what he hoped was a reassuring nod, then stood and turned. Two large creatures were approaching, sending a ripple through the ground men.
The crowd parted to reveal a pair of gigantic fabricated bulls. They stood at least three meters tall, their horns tipped with metal, their shoulders as broad as train engines. The bulls had riders on their backs, holding steel chains that ran down through silver rings in the beasts’ noses. Behind each rider was mounted a platform with another soldier; one bull carried a Gatling gun, the other a motion picture camera.
“PANCHO VILLA.”
Almost lost between the two huge beasts was a man on horseback. He wore riding boots and pale trousers, a small-brimmed hat, and a short brown jacket crossed with two bandoliers of bullets. His clothes looked rumpled, as if he had just arisen from bed, and from above an unkempt, bristly mustache peered two lively brown eyes.
Alek knew only a few words of Spanish, but he bowed and gave it a try.
The man laughed and said in a careful but clear English, “I think you mean ‘
“It is an honor, General,” Alek said, bowing again.
So this was the famous rebel leader, the Robin Hood of Mexican peasants. Alek wondered what the man must think of the wealthy young prince before him, and if he had picked a side in the Great War in Europe.
The pistol on his belt was a Mauser—German made.
“Is your man hurt?” Villa asked.
Alek turned. Deryn was wincing in pain as Dr. Busk applied some sort of compress to her knee. “We hope not, sir.”
“My personal doctor is coming. But please, why did he jump off your ship? He makes us very nervous for a moment.”
“It was the camera walkers.” Alek looked up. “There was some confusion about their purpose.”
The man clicked his tongue. “Ah, I should have known. Last winter one of these walkers captures a whole platoon of
Alek compared the Gatling gun and camera on the two monstrous bulls. “An understandable mistake. It seems an odd machine for an army to travel with.”
The man pointed at the
Alek looked up and saw Mr. Francis and his men filming the encounter through the open windows of the middies’ mess. Here he was in front of the cameras, performing again.
“There seems to be no escaping them,” Alek said. “Can you help us repair our engines?”
The man bowed low in his saddle. “Of course. All part of my deal with Senor Hearst. He sends his apologies for the inconvenience.”
Alek was about to say something unpleasant, but a cry came from Deryn, and he spun about. Dr. Busk was pulling off her jacket now, revealing a red stain running down her left arm. In another moment he would have her shirt off.
Alek turned to General Villa. “Please, sir. If your doctor could be quick. I’m afraid our ship’s surgeon is . . . a bit incompetent.”
“You are lucky, then. Dr. Azuela is quite experienced with wounds of battle.” Villa pointed at a man coming through the crowd. “Take him to your friend.”
Alek gave a quick bow and raced back to where Deryn sat. He placed a firm hand on Dr. Busk’s shoulder. “General Villa would prefer that his own doctor see to Mr. Sharp.”
“Why, for heaven’s sake?”
“He insists, as our host,” Alek hissed softly. “We should not insult him.”
“Most irregular,” Dr. Busk said, but he stood and took a step back. Dr. Azuela was coming through the crowd. A man of less than forty, he was dressed in a tweed suit and string tie, his eyes behind small round glasses.
Alek went to him, wondering how to get Deryn hidden. He looked up at the bright sun, ransacking his brain for a few words of Spanish.
The Mexican doctor glanced at Deryn, then at the
“Can he walk?” he said in excellent English.
“We can’t move him,” Alek said. “Is there some way to get cover?”
“Of course,” the man said, and began to shout orders. Soon the ground men were flinging canvas tarps across the landing lines, putting Deryn in the shadow of a makeshift tent and out of view of the
As they worked, Alek pulled Dr. Busk aside. “General Villa wants a message taken to the captain. He says he’ll do whatever he can to repair the ship.”
“Well, that’s good to hear, I suppose. I’ll send one of the marines.”
Alek shook his head. “He wants an officer to deliver it.”
Dr. Busk frowned, looking at the tarps. “I see. Look after Sharp, will you?”
“Of course, Doctor1; Alek Alek said, turning away with a sigh of relief. The only remaining trick was to keep the rebel doctor from discovering Deryn’s secret, or at least from making a fuss about it.
Halfway back to the makeshift tent, Alek realized that he had lied to three men in as many minutes. And
