by E J Kitchens
Finished with the stitching, he cleaned her other scratches, and a gash not worth mentioning on his leg, before putting the kit away and presenting her with hardtack. Like the child of an airship tycoon that she was, she took the biscuit without question.
He pushed to his feet and stretched a bit of the tension from his back. “Can you walk?”
She looked him up and down, her gaze taking in his shoulders. They weren’t the shoulders of a blacksmith, he knew, but he wasn’t scrawny by any means, man of letters though he was. “How heroic are you feeling?” she asked.
“I shined up my armor this morning.”
As he half expected, she swatted his hand away as he knelt, arms out, to pick her up. “I can make it from the vertical, so if you’ll just help me up.”
He winked at her. “With pleasure.”
He righted her, and they crept along, her clinging to his arm. “Didn’t we come into this”—she glanced about at the underground faerie forest, which to some would appear as hewn stone columns and walls, some crumbled, some still upright—“place through the roof? Why is the twine attached to your belt leading deeper into this ruin-in-a-cave?”
“Because it’s attached to a rowan tree a ways down the hill from where we came in—the will-o’-the-wisp couldn’t snap it, only redirect it. The twine will lead us out. I just don’t know what’s between us and out.”
“How exciting.”
“I have an iron blade if you feel a need to trim your nails or peel an apple along the way.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
3
Marianna caught glimpses of the cavern roof and walls as she and Bertram shuffled along, their footfalls the only sound. Scenes of spring and summer feasts, dances, and hunts carved into stone guided them as surely as her escort’s twine. Bertram Orren—Philip’s nephew. Of all people to come to her rescue. Well, to get himself into a mess trying to rescue her. The thought of Philip brought her back to her crew and ship, and she prayed once again for their safety and healing. And that the iron wasn’t discovered by the Time Keepers. Otherwise, her crew would be imprisoned or worse. Why the storm, Almighty? How long will the innocent be punished and the guilty prosper? The Bowditch family and crews have always, though imperfectly, tried to serve you, despite the risk. Marianna sighed against a deeper pain than just the physical ones making her steps drag.
“Captain?” Bertram slowed and glanced at her, a trace of concern in his eyes, which were a rather enchanting hue of green.
“Please, call me Marianna, or Miss Orren if you prefer. ‘Captain Bowditch’ makes me sound like my brothers.” Or a confirmed spinster. Which she was not. She was also in pain, and denying the convention gave her a certain amount of pleasure.
His eyebrows rose. Shocking Bertram gave her a certain amount of pleasure as well.
“I command an airship of men and women. You a classroom of juveniles. We are equally brave, I believe.”
He smiled at that. “In that case, and since you are the reason for this predicament of mine, I’ll call you Marianna. We’re not on your ship, so Uncle Philip can’t accuse me of supporting insubordination by such an action.”
She bit back a groan as they approached a column that had inconsiderately fallen over the path. She allowed herself a sigh, then stiffened her spine and started to climb over it. “Shipboard or not, you can be assured that I shall take great offense at the liberty, which will give me the strength to keep going.”
“So that is the true reason for the request, Marianna.” He gently picked her up and helped her over the column, making her feel like a little child. Rather than protest assistance she needed, however, she used the annoyance of it to help her take another step, then another. The pain medicine was starting to kick in, but it also made her sleepy.
They passed through various chambers and down ancient walkways until slowing at an ornate stone bridge. The bridge was only missing a few stones and looked sturdy enough, which was comforting, for as she stood at the edge of the chasm and looked down, she had a similar feeling as to that when she looked over the side of her airship in flight.
“I never thought of the faeries as stone masons,” she said as she adjusted her PullLine harness and gauntlet for climbing and sent a line to the far wall to serve as a safety rope for them, just in case.
“That’s because they’re not.” Bertram studied the bridge, his expression pensive. She made to walk around him onto the bridge, but he blocked her path. “Please don’t think me forward, but”—he scooped her up and stepped onto the bridge, oddly toward the right-hand edge of it.
“Really, Bertram, I can walk,” she said after hissing at the sudden movement and the pain it produced.
“I’d prefer you didn’t, at the moment.” He must have meant it, for he didn’t let her down, and as she was in no condition to insist, she didn’t.
“Masculine ego,” she muttered as she cradled her stitched arm. “I am not that badly injured.”
He didn’t reply, just stretched his neck to see beyond her to the solid stone of the bridge at his feet and took a very careful step onto it. He took another step, placing one foot in front of the other, as if he were walking a tightrope. He repeated the action until about midway across. Then, after a brief study of the bridge again, he took a wide step to the left, swaying a bit as he landed.
Marianna yelped. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather walk.”
“I’d still rather you didn’t,” he said, doing another of those tightrope-walk steps.
“I’d still rather I did.” They were currently going toward the section of bridge that was missing a few stones.
Bertram paused, and for a moment, she thought he was going to put her down, but then he gave a defeated sigh and took a few more of those cautious paces. “It’s an arbor, Marianna. It’s not a bridge at all. The faeries use trees more often than hewn stone, and they use glamours to deceive those who don’t know better. It’s much safer for you if I carry you. I’ll put you down on the other side.”
“You mean—” Her voice rose as her gaze shot to the bridge. It looked like stone to her, even when she wasn’t looking at it carefully, more sideways to try to see past the glamour.
“This is the meeting of two tree canopies. I have to follow the right boughs to reach the other side. Your walk is unsteady because of your injuries and the medicine—I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to follow my steps—so I’m carrying you.”
“But why do I see stone?” she asked, exasperated.
“You’re not from the island,” he said quickly.
“But that’s not—oh.” Marianna laughed quietly and relaxed. “Touch of faerie blood in you, is there?” His eyes were very green, after all, so it shouldn’t be too surprising.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now be quiet and let me concentrate.”
She bit back a smile. Judging by that tone, he knew exactly what she was talking about and the very respectable schoolmaster did not like to be reminded of the skeleton in his family closet. Oh, she was definitely going to ask Philip about this the next time she saw him and Davy. She’d bet her last bullet the faerie line was from Philip’s side of the family too.
When they reached the other side of the arbor-bridge, Bertram put her down as promised, and Marianna retracted the PullLine. Beyond the bridge and its chasm, the carved stone—remnants of a once fine forest of gold and silver trees, Bertram reluctantly informed her—dwindled out. Stalactites and stalagmites took their place, and a gentle drip drip added a new rhythm underneath the echo of their steps. A soft glow emanated from the walls, and they dimmed the lantern for a time, relying on the phosphorescence and the twine. Mushrooms dotted the rocks and crevices. Marianna pointed them out. The strange light must be playing with her eyes—or maybe it was the pain—for the fungi seemed to be gaining in size the further they went.
“The faeries were always partial to the things, I’ve heard,” Bertram responded. His gaze as he looked at the three-fo
ot-high mushrooms was almost hungry, Marianna fancied.
“And you?” she asked before she could help herself.
“Only with steak and gravy.” Bertram nodded to a low boulder near the twine’s path. “Permission to rest, Captain?”
“Granted.” With relief.
“Our smooth road is gone. Looks like we’ll have to do some clambering about from here on out.” He seated her on a boulder next to a parasol-shaped mushroom and dug his water canteen and hardtack from his gunnysack. He offered her the hardtack. Marianna slipped as she leaned forward, her fingers brushing his. His eyes widened, and the tack fell from his fingers.
Marianna bit her lip to stifle a smile. For an average-looking man of about thirty-five, he really was quite charming, not to mention strong and gentlemanly, but pretending to be so affected by a touch of her hand was laying it on a bit thick.
“Um, Marianna?” Bertram’s gaze fixed on hers.
“Yes, Bertram?”
“I think I’m going to need a word longer than four syllables.”
Marianna stiffened, her gaze darting about the cavern. “Why?”
“Someone just yanked the twine, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a faerie.” He staggered to the left before regaining his balance. “Could be a very large dog playing tug-of-war, but not a faerie.”
“Take off the holster. Quick.” Marianna stood, motioning to the ball of twine as Bertram worked to remove it from his belt. “Jam it between those two boulders.” She checked her revolver: five bullets. She’d not used it since the last pirate attack on her airship, and she’d rather not get in a shootout today. “Who or what do you think would be in a place like this?”
“Pirates, if they bribed Time Keepers for navigators to get here. It’d make a marvelous hideout. Other lost souls. Time Keepers snooping around the woods for your Escaper might have found the twine and traced it inside.” He lodged the twine between two rocks. “Unfortunately, the latter is the most likely.”
“In that case, they could help us.” Her stomach twisted at the thought, but it was possible for Time Keepers to help, she supposed.
Bertram secured the gunnysack on his back, took her arm, and started them walking at a brisk pace, staying about a foot or so from the twine.
“Caves are forbidden here,” Bertram said, “as is twine or similar things when used to help you find your way without an automaton, and thus the knowledge and permission of the Time Keepers. I’d rather not meet with one. If it’s unavoidable, we’ll say you had a nasty bump on the head, were delusional, and insisted on following this already placed twine in. I found you some place I’m allowed to be but followed you to the forbidden area to look after you. We can try to convince them someone’s been farming mushrooms here illegally and placed the string as their lead. Not a bad idea actually. We’re going to be hungry this winter.”
The chamber narrowed to a passageway, and they stopped to listen, noticed nothing alarming, and then hurried down it. Marianna set her jaw as her ribs escalated their reminders that they’d been rudely bumped earlier in her landing.
Halfway along its length, Marianna tightened her grip on Bertram’s arm and gestured to the twine. It bowed to the right. Ahead, a shaft of light hit the tunnel wall, coming from a side passage.
“Back,” Marianna and Bertram whispered together.
Floodlights swayed over the stone at her feet.
“You there! Stop! What are you doing here?”
Bertram picked up speed, Marianna struggling to keep up. They ducked around the corner of the chamber’s opening and clambered over boulders and around stalagmites as footsteps echoed up the tunnel.
They dropped behind a wide stalagmite next to the back wall of the chamber as four Time Keepers followed the twine inside. Their floodlights settled on the reel of twine, then quickly scanned the room before going back to it. But Marianna had no doubt they’d do a thorough search before they left.
“Think one of the mine workers did this on account of the mushrooms?” A Time Keeper poked a dinner plate–sized mushroom cap with his rifle muzzle. His insignia reflected the light, but his uniform was unlike the ones she’d seen around port cities before. It looked more like a prison guard’s than an automaton station clerk’s or patrol officer’s.
And since when did Sheffield-on-the-Sea have a mine? As if questioning the same thing, Bertram leaned forward, studying him.
“No one would be idiot enough to run a line through the control room.” He bent over the twine, rubbed his fingers along it, then sniffed his fingers. “It doesn’t smell of gunpowder or other explosive.”
“It’s attached to a rowan tree on one end and two rocks on this end. Did you expect a bomb?” The taller whipped his light around the chamber, stalking about and illuminating crevices. “Some peasant out on an illegal jaunt with this as his crude form of navigation got waylaid by a will-o’-the-wisp and ended up here. It’s happened before.”
Marianna lowered her crouch and scooted back as the light swept nearer. One heel touched rock, the other nothing. She twisted around to find that blackness had covered one foot, the blackness of an arched passageway about two feet high and wide enough for Bertram’s shoulders.
Marianna tugged on Bertram’s sleeve and pointed to the small tunnel. He nodded, motioned for her to put his jacket over her arms and chest to protect them, and signaled for her to go in first.
“And they never got out to tell about it,” said one with an air of authority. “If they’re healthy enough for the mines, take them to the Personnel Supervisor. If not, dispose of them here. But they don’t leave. Understood?”
Marianna did, and she crawled faster, ignoring any protests from her body. Please let the tunnel go where we need to go, and let Bertram get in before they see him.
Apparently, Bertram wanted to help with that prayer, for Marianna felt three taps on her boot and was then shoved forward a foot over the oddly smooth rock. Then another set of taps and another shove.
Voices from the chamber flooded into the rounded arc of air above her head, growing more chaotic with each wriggle ahead, which was not comforting with regard to the position of Bertram’s feet. Could they see him?
Pausing, she tightened the PullLine harness about her chest and depressed a button on the gauntlet. “Bertram, grab my heels and hold on.”
He complied with admirable speed, and she braced the PullLine with her other arm and aimed it down the dark road, for that’s what instinct told her this was, a fair folk way from long ago. She released the line, and it extended fully before attaching to something in the dark far ahead. She pressed the Retract button on the gauntlet and held on.
Moist air rushed past, and she struggled to focus on that instead of the agony in her ribs or the strain on her arms or the dig of the harness as they were hauled over the time-worn road. Some sense or a movement of air hinted at cross-passages but no large chambers.
They came to a stop in the same cramped road, the PullLine having attached to the road itself as it went up an incline.
“Did you know there were mines here, Marianna?”
“No, and I don’t care for the tone in which you asked that question.” Marianna twisted to glare at her companion, not that she could see him, but she heard him rummaging through his pack.
“But you were carrying mining equipment on the Dawn Bringer. There are no mines here, so I thought. But, apparently, there’s something here worth killing for to keep quiet.” The accusation in his tone wore out into anger and concern, but she half wished it’d stayed. She could do with the distraction.
“If you searched the wreckage of my ship, you know more of her contents than I. The Time Keepers regularly commandeer space in my cargo hold but don’t make me privy to what I’m carrying.”
A greenish glow illuminated Bertram’s face, as well as a cylindrical lamp attached to a small box. A Ruhmkorff lamp like miners use?
“Did you steal that from the wreckage and that’s why we’re running from the Time Ke
epers?” she snapped between gasps. Wincing, she eased onto her back and closed her eyes. Okay. So they were running because the Time Keepers were possessive of their secrets, but Bertram seemed to have extra reasons to add to that.
“How are you feeling?” he asked after a suspiciously long pause.
“Miserable.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Back to your lamp,” she said testily.
He sighed. “The bladders attached to the Rí Am’s cargo crates you were carrying worked well—kept them afloat long enough to be dashed on the rocks near the shore. One held these lamps. They’re used by miners, I think, so I figured they were for another stop, but something about them didn’t feel right. And I’d thought I’d seen Sheffield-on-the-Sea painted on a bit of board floating near them. When the wind kept blowing out our lanterns, the Time Keepers let us use these to help with the cleanup. I didn’t turn mine in, figuring I could find out something more about them if I returned it to the Time Keeper Station myself later.” He blew out a heavy breath. “I don’t like stealing and breaking laws, Marianna, but I’ve got to help my people in any way I can, and now that means finding out what’s going on here.”
She was silent for a moment, considering the pleading in his voice. Instinct told her he’d probably never stolen so much as a cookie before getting mixed up with the Sky Keepers. “You sound like my brothers.”
She fought a smile. Not quite like her brothers. She’d wager anything he was the nephew Philip had mentioned to her more than once as a respectable, single young man. Philip always was a good judge of character.