stalked off. The farther she got away from them, Raed noticed, the more her walk altered from an aggressive stride to the gentle scamper he had observed in her previously. It was as if she was adjusting a mask back into place.
Sorcha must have noticed something as well. “Do you really think we can trust her?” she asked. “These last two weeks have been so beyond my training, I wonder if my judgment is impaired.”
Raed considered the question. The Beast was not waking within him. Whatever lurked behind Nynnia’s sweet face was not a geist—powerful yes, but not one of their kind. “She did save Merrick’s life.” It was a platitude; he had plenty of experience to tell him that preserving a life was not always done out of love or concern.
Sorcha appeared not to detect his lie, perhaps too deep in her own concerns. Stroking his fingertips, she nodded. “I hope so. We have enough troubles ahead without adding to them.” He knew she was not just referring to the Murashev. They walked together to the tiny command deck. It seemed ridiculous, but Raed felt a little of his queasiness return. Sorcha might have managed to distract him from it for a good few days, but standing in the exposed cabin brought back his nervousness. Most especially because the vast spread of the City of Vermillion was laid out before them like an intricate map. The buffeting didn’t help either.
Two chairs outfitted the tiny cabin, and Merrick was standing behind the Captain’s, bracing himself against an abrupt onslaught of wind that shifted and shook the airship. The young man was actually grinning. “We’ve hit a bit of—what did you call it, Captain?”
“Turbulence and crosswinds,” Revele replied distractedly as she worked the levers set in a gleaming wooden console before her. With the other hand, she held the small wheel as easily as if it were a child’s toy and not the only means of direction for a vast, fragile vessel.
“Turbulence.” Merrick laughed. “Isn’t that just like your swells in the ocean, Raed?”
“No,” he grumbled. “It is absolutely nothing like it.” His insides were still churning from the unnatural motion of this vessel—but he was not about to tell anyone that. He’d already suffered enough ribbing about that particular issue.
Revele let out a muffled snort, spinning the wheel about and turning the nose of the ship into the wind. It was an enviable maneuver; the weirstone propulsion system allowed the dirigible to navigate against the vagaries of the weather. For a moment Raed forgot his own tumbling stomach, his sea captain’s mind wondering if the same methods could be provided for proper ships. As soon as he had the thought, he realized that the Emperor must have considered the possibility. Who knew what projects the nimble mind of his pursuer was having constructed in his naval bases. The idea of a fleet of Imperial ships powered with the speed and maneuverability of a dirigible made him shudder.
“You all right?” Sorcha touched the back of his hand, murmuring her concern under her breath.
He looked down at the center of Vermillion. The city was laid out in a star formation, with all the spokes of the main street draining into the Civic Center and eventually the palace, while a crosshatch of side streets filled out the spaces between. “This is the city where my father was born; now the city of my enemy. How should I be feeling?”
“Concerned?” she ventured.
He squeezed her fingertips and laughed. “Exhilarated. I plan on seeing the sights.” Both of the Deacons looked at him in horror, and he laughed. “Oh, well, if you think it is a bad plan . . .”
“There’s the repair facility.” Revele pointed out the window to the right. Unlike the majority of the Imperial forces, the air fleet was not housed in the neat lines of streets that made up the center. Instead, the fleet and the combustible gases needed for the dirigibles were housed on the outskirts of the great city.
Raed might never have been to Vermillion, but that did not mean he was unfamiliar with it. When his father had decided he would never seek to reclaim his throne, all the attention of his advisors had fallen on the Young Pretender. Raed knew every curve of the city by heart; the town houses of the nobility, the public fountains, the marketplaces, every statue on every corner and the history to go with them all. He was, however, not so familiar with the Edge.
The area that had not been built on top of the shallow lagoon, but instead on the soft marshes of the mainland, was called the Edge. It had been so named after one particularly jocular ancestor of Raed’s had referred to it as “the edge of humanity.” It was also much larger than the center, and was separated from it by a circle of canals.
Now, looking over it in the gathering evening, he realized his training wouldn’t help him there. The streets were narrow, some disappearing almost completely under the eaves of houses from up here, and they meandered around on themselves. City planning had long ago given up on the Edge.
As they dropped lower, following the edge of the lagoon, he gestured out to an area that was not covered with houses. Certainly there were signs of rebuilding, but it looked as if fire had swept through the area.
He was just about to ask, when Revele cut him off. “That,” she said grimly, “was our depot up until three months ago.”
“A geist attack?” he asked.
The look his fellow captain shot him over her shoulder matched her tone. “No—an explosion in the gas refilling station. These dirigibles are like your ships . . . not without their risk.”
By the size of the devastation, the Emperor’s fleet must have suffered considerable losses. It was in his mind to make a quip about sea vessels at least not exploding—but it seemed in far too poor taste. He had wondered why he had not seen Sorcha lighting her cigars for the last few days. It had not just been his sweet attentions, then.
The new repair facility was not built far from the scene of the previous one, but space in this ancient city was obviously at a premium. The lowering sun bounced off the shapes of several dirigibles tied up in the facility, and to Raed they looked very menacing. He suddenly wanted to get off this floating exploding death trap, and he was very glad that he hadn’t known of this danger when he’d set foot on it. It would have considerably dampened his ardor for Sorcha. And yet, he shot her a wicked look.
“You have to come in slow, so the watchtowers have enough time to alert the ground crew,” Revele explained. “We’re lucky there seem to be several moorings.”
She yanked on a cord hanging beneath her console, and somewhere a bell began to ring. Leaning out, curious despite it all, he watched her crew scurry to drop the ropes from the gunwales.
“What are they?” Raed asked. “Those are the biggest buildings I’ve ever seen.”
“Hangars for the dirigible repair,” Merrick replied, before the busy air Captain could. “One of the Emperor’s greatest achievements.”
Raed bit his lip on the comment that surged forward.
“Captain.” Sorcha stood stiffly at the portal, not meeting anyone’s gaze. “If I can trouble you to keep the Breed horses in your hold for as long as you are able, and then return them to the Mother Abbey?”
Merrick wasn’t fooled. His partner had risked her life to save Shedryi and Melochi, and the tautness of her back said this request cost her more than she would admit.
“Certainly.” Revele snapped a salute, which might not have been necessary at this point. They circled lower in stiff silence.
When they were only a few minutes from the ground, Captain Revele pointed to a locker in the rear of the cabin.
“There are uniform coat jackets in there. If you get your people into them, you should blend in with my crew. They are usually quick to head for the attractions of Vermillion after I have dismissed them. After that, you are on your own.”
Raed grinned at her. “That’s just the way we like it.”
NINETEEN
