Curtsies & Conspiracies

the number of opponents. Remember, however, that if there is a chance of reinforcements, the high ground exposes you to projectiles. Now, ladies, please jelly up your spoons and switch roles. Those who were rabbits are now wolves.”

Sophronia saw Dimity lick her spoon surreptitiously before passing it on. Dimity was awfully fond of gooseberries.

So it went, switching back and forth, rearranging rabbits versus wolves, until all were exhausted. By the end, everyone, even Sophronia, had died several jelly deaths. Dimity enacted a dramatic Shakespearean soliloquy at the combined spooning of Agatha and Preshea to a round of polite applause.

After two strenuous hours, with the girls all sore in the calf and blistered in the toe, the captain called a halt. They lined up to be lifted, in groups of five, aboard the airship. Sophronia was pushed to the back because she was being given the cold shoulder by nearly everyone. Sidheag, however, was hanging back intentionally, edging toward Captain Niall.

Sophronia faded into the darkness, pretending to have dropped her reticule.

“Sir, may I ask a word of advice?” Sidheag curtsied, bending her head too far forward.

“About the game, Lady Kingair?” Captain Niall gestured for her to rise.

“No, sir, it is a matter of pack. Things are unsettled in Kingair. I think he may be losing control.”

“He is one of the strongest Alphas in England.” Captain Niall smiled as though alluding to a shared joke. “There are some who would say even the queen’s own werewolf would lose three out of five challenges to your grandfather.”

“It’s not his strength I question; it’s the behavior of the rest of the pack.”

“They are Scottish.”

“But never have they been this angry.”

“Perhaps it’s the Giffard dirigible run. If there is even the possibility he could open the aetherosphere up to vampires, even if it’s only roves…” Captain Niall trailed off.

Sidheag filled in the rest. “Then werewolves have a right to be worried.”

Sophronia puzzled over this. It must have something to do with tethers. Currently, one of the greatest checks on vampire power was the fact that it was limited to specific territories. The more powerful the vampire, the more confined the territory. Werewolves, on the other hand, had a greater range since their tether was to other members of the pack, rather than an exact location. This was how England had won an empire abroad; packs could fight in armies. Is there something about this dirigible flight that could change that dynamic? That’s far more significant than Vieve’s claims of shorter travel times. Vampires could be as mobile as werewolves if they tethered to aetherosphere-going dirigibles, possibly more so.

“I’ve always wondered why Professor Braithwope was the only floating vampire,” said Sidheag.

“He’s a bit of an experiment.”

Considering the vampire teacher’s silly mustache, Sophronia thought, Not only in that way. Are the vampires hoping to experiment further with Giffard’s new technology? Is someone trying to stop them? Vampires, to Sophronia, were mainly a concept rather than a practice—she hadn’t much experience with them. But she found the concept more palatable when she knew there were limits to their supernatural abilities. The werewolves, she must assume from this conversation, felt the same.

Sidheag said, “Do we consider the professor a successful experiment?”

Captain Niall touched the tall girl affectionately on one shoulder. “You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Of course.” Sidheag pressed one long finger to her mouth. Then, glancing around, she said, “Oh, dear, it looks like I’m the last.” The glass platform waited for her, so low Sidheag need only step up onto it.

“Not entirely. Miss Temminnick?” Captain Niall turned into the darkness to where Sophronia skulked.

She moved forward, not at all ashamed. This was, after all, what they were trained for. “Did you smell me or hear me?”

“Both. Even you cannot quiet your own heartbeat. And, as you have been told before, perfume will always work against you with the supernatural, unless you have scattered it everywhere.”

Sidheag, at least, seemed gratifyingly surprised to see her.

“What did you hear?” she hissed, as Sophronia stepped up onto the platform next to her.

“Enough.”

“That’s personal pack business!”

“And I won’t mention any of it, if you tell me everything you know about this vampire plot.”

“I can’t be seen talking to you.” The platform rose slowly toward the underbelly of the airship. At the same time, the massive craft lifted higher into the sky.

“Then you had better do it fast.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re awful contrary, Sophronia?”

“Frequently. Now explain.”

“It seems the werewolves think the vampires are trying to master aetherosphere travel for themselves. There are rumors Giffard’s been funded by vampire backers. Even though he’s French.”

Sophronia’s mind whirled at the implications. “Is our school floating to town to support or fight this possibility?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“How do our visiting boys figure into this?”

Sidheag shrugged. “Bunson’s is pro Picklemen.”

Sophronia nodded. “And the Picklemen will want to control any aetherosphere travel for themselves.” She was thinking about the prototype kerfuffle at her sister’s ball. Both the government and the Picklemen had been after the technology then. “No wonder we are floating to town.”

“You think there’s going to be some kind of contest for control?” Sidheag nibbled her lips. The werewolves, as a rule, were uninterested in advancements in science that did not pertain to munitions. Sidheag had not been raised to think in terms of patent control or manipulation of technological discoveries.

Sophronia said, “I’m not sure what I think yet, but that seems likely.”

It was far easier to get around the ship with Vieve. Sophronia didn’t have to climb the exterior to avoid patrolling mechanicals. Vieve had an invention of her own devising, the obstructor, which froze a mechanical in its tracks long enough for two girls to slide around it.

They sped through the central student section and then into the forbidden section. Dangling red tassels all around demarcated the highly restricted forward segment of the ship, which included the teachers’ quarters, the record room, and… the boiler room. Everything was going smoothly, even the most dangerous part: passing the doors of slumbering teachers.

Then a loud whistle reverberated through the airship, picked up and repeated by every mechanical within range. They hadn’t had to use the obstructor for two hallways, so it couldn’t have been their fault. The alarm was triggered by some other miscreants out after hours.

The two girls squeezed behind a massive marble bust of Pan and a once-underdressed nymph in the corner. The nymph had been clothed in skirts and a lace hat, to make her more the thing. This meant there was plenty of room for concealment. Just in time, too, for doors to teachers’ rooms popped open and heads stuck out.

“Is there no peace for the naked?” Sister Mattie wore a bed cap of sensible white lace.

“I think you mean peace for the wicked,” corrected Lady Linette, wrapped in a flowing silk robe of apple green trimmed in black velvet. Her hair was loose and flowing, her face free of paint. She looked lovely and fresh.

“Why would that apply?” asked Sister Mattie, before closing her door on both the problem and the noise.

“What’s going on?” The headmistress voiced that query, her rinsed red hair crowned by a great pink floof of crochet.

“I shouldn’t worry, Geraldine. It’s probablyour young gentlemen guests.”

“I warned you no good would come of having boys on board!”

“Might have told that to me, mum, whot?” joked Professor Braithwope, shimmering out of his room fully clothed and dapper. His mustache was a fluffy caterpillar of curiosity, perched and ready to inquire, dragging the