“Soap, will you stay with Monique?” Sophronia took in the sootie from under lowered lashes.
Soap’s expression said much that Sophronia couldn’t interpret. Then he nodded and returned to checking gauges.
Sophronia faced Sidheag and jerked her head toward the door. The taller girl nodded and untied the apron she’d donned to help with the coal. “It’s all right, Dusty, you stay here. Mr. Sophronia and I got this one for now.”
“If you say so.”
Sophronia appreciated Sidheag’s continuation of their masculine personas. Monique had called her by name, but it was common among the gentry to refer to a man by his last name alone. Sidheag had turned it nicely in that direction.
“Ready, Sid?” Sophronia said, following the angle.
They swung out of the cab and crunched along the edge of the track toward the downed airship. It was fully inflated, only loosely lashed to the track, bobbing softly. It was big enough to boast a propeller, and proper ladders over the sides, unlike the airdinghy. Its gondola was more barge-than basketlike, a spacious transport indeed.
They heard a shout behind them.
Felix and Dimity were running to catch up. Dimity had Bumbersnoot slung over her shoulder. Lacy dog reticule combined with overly large clothing and corseted waist made her, if possible, even more incongruous.
Sophronia and Sidheag waited for them.
“Hello, lovely one,” said Felix to Sophronia, looking pleased with himself.
“Everything greased your end?” Sophronia asked, looking to Dimity.
“Topping, we dumped him out, shortly after you jettisoned the driver. Must be leagues away by now. Here, thought you might want this.” Dimity patted Bumbersnoot, grinning mischievously.
“Oh? Has he swallowed something interesting lately?”
“Only the vampires’ crystalline valve frequensor.”
“Brilliant! You keep him for now? I’d rather stay unencumbered. Anything new to add to the puzzle of what the vampires are doing with that transmitter?”
Dimity nodded. “Only thing we could get out of that drone before we chucked him was that they were only receiving information, not transmitting it. That valve was hooked into the sketcher component. The part on which letters appear. The drone was monitoring it and then making notes on a map.”
“You mean they weren’t responsible for causing the mass mechanical malfunction?”
“It doesn’t seem likely.”
Sophronia nodded, reevaluating what was going on, her attention taken by the dirigible in front of them. Two men had climbed out and were striding aggressively toward them.
Flywaymen. Sophronia had met their type before. They were dressed like the highwaymen of olden days in baggy britches tucked into tall boots, with sashes about their waists. Sophronia thought the outfits a bit much, but she supposed if one was a criminal outside society one could afford to ignore all the rules of proper attire. They had handkerchiefs tied about their heads, instead of respectable hats, and cravats pinned with onion brooches. It was a hodgepodge of styles that Mademoiselle Geraldine had explained was “only affected by the disenfranchised.” Really, thought Sophronia, you’d think with a Pickleman alliance some style would rub off. However, there was no way to know if these flywaymen were allies or not. There were many flywaymen and they didn’t often work together. Besides, who was she to talk fashion? Sophronia pulled her tweed cap farther down over her forehead, ensuring that her plaited hair was still tucked securely underneath.
Sophronia said to her friends, “Ready, boys?”
Felix said, “You sure you don’t want me to talk?”
“Best not. Flywaymen have allied with Picklemen before. Your father could be involved. You could be involved.”
“Ria, you wound me!” He seemed genuinely upset. “My father would never fraternize with the lower orders, not even for the good of the Empire!”
“And Picklemen do everything for the good of the Empire?”
“Of course.”
“It’s just that they think that the Empire’s good means everything under their direct control.”
Felix bristled. “That’s not fair!”
Sophronia realized she’d made an error. “My dear Lord Mersey—Felix. It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s the Picklemen whose judgment is in question.”
Felix looked a bit mollified. She’d also trapped him neatly into thinking about his own instinctual alliance with the Picklemen every time they were mentioned. She added a cautious “You do realize that you still have the choice. Your father hasn’t made it for you.”
He might have immediately reacted badly to that, accused her of trying to win him over, so she added quickly, “That choice can always be to follow him. I know you are not the type to be told what to do by anyone.” She tried a little flattery. “Far too strong in character. I simply wish to ensure you realize you are making a choice.” She tried a winsome little smile.
That seemed to help matters. Felix looked to be actually mulling over her words. Am I getting through to him at last? “In that case, dear Ria, thank you for looking out for me. Such a supportive attitude.”
He leaned toward her and his tone, much softened, indicated that he now perceived her attempted influence as tantamount to wifely concern for his future. Perhaps she had taken it too far. He did have the prettiest eyes.
Sidheag interrupted what looked to become a lengthy flirtation. “May I remind you that we have flywaymen to deal with?”
“I can handle a few flywaymen. I’ve done it before.” Sophronia spoke with more confidence than she felt. After all, the last time hadn’t turned out at all well; Dimity had been shot.
They walked past the engine of the train.
Dimity referred to Monique in the doorway. “Saw your nicely strung-up slab of bacon.”
“Don’t insult bacon,” said Sidheag.
“I do my best work under stressful circumstances,” replied Sophronia.
The two flywaymen waved and hollered at them. “What ho!”
The flywaymen approached with amicable expressions on their faces. And seemed quite delighted to find the train apparently under the command of a scrappy band of larrikin boys.
“Young squires, how do you do this fine afternoon?” inquired one, with forced jocularity. He was a squarish, stubby sort, wind chafed, boasting a red nose in a round, pockmarked face.
The other, larger and angrier, had shaggy black hair and both hands shoved deep into his pockets, no doubt clutching some form of weaponry.
Sophronia was not one to abandon her lessons at a whim, so she played along by answering in kind. She forced her facial muscles and shoulders to relax. She splayed out her hands palms forward, tailoring her body movements to show openness and goodwill.
“Top of the day to you, my lords,” she said. “May we be of some kind of assistance? You seem to have landed on our track.”
“Now, now, young squire, you know that there is Her Majesty’s track,” said Stubby, still smiling.
“Indeed, indeed it is. How right you are, my lord. But, if at all possible, we should very much like to use it and are in a bit of a hurry.”
“Oh, are ye? And where are you off to in such a tearing rush with such an odd mix-up of a train? Are you not a little young for such heavy responsibility?”
Sidheag stepped forward, hackles up, less kind than Sophronia and in more of a hurry. They had played this hand before—the one pretending to be nice, the other… less nice.
“I am Lord Kingair and this train is under my commission.”
“Oh, is it indeed, lordly lad?” said Stubby, and then, with his smile made over nasty, he showed his intent in a manner most unwise. “What if I were to say that we should like to borrow it for a while?”
“We should say,” answered Sophronia, placing a hand ostentatiously on Sidheag’s arm as if to sooth Lord Kingair’s ruffled aristocratic feathers, “that you already had a perfectly serviceable dirigible. What would you want with
our train?”
The flywaymen chuckled at this impertinence.
Stubby said, “It’s more what you want with us. Why have you been following us these three days?”
Now, that was interesting information. Was that what Monique had been doing? Following the airship by train? Why by train? Sophronia puzzled over the matter. I suppose it’s the only thing strong enough to haul two freights’ worth of aetherographic machine. Which means they must have been using the machine to track the airship! That was why the train kept pausing—they had to be still to use the valve. They must have known the ship would float over populated areas, or a train would be useless. But it would also explain why they wanted to stay secretive.
It took only a moment for Sophronia to realize all of this, and she weighed the merits of telling the flywaymen any of it. Best, she thought, to keep revelations about vampires as ammunition for when ammunition was necessary.
“I don’t know what you are on about,” she said, smiling broadly. “We simply wanted a little play time, off Bunson’s. A bit of a lark with a train. We found this one at Wootton Bassett and thought, why not? Lord Kingair here had a hankering to visit the relations, and Lord Mersey, Mr. Dim, and I thought we’d join him.”
Sophronia dropped each name and each nugget of information with purpose, paying close attention to the reactions of both flywaymen. The revelation that they were boys who had jumped a train on a lark appeared to engender relief. The fact that they were Bunson’s boys struck a spark of recognition in Stubby. The name Kingair and the intent to head north meant nothing. If they knew about the fuss with the Kingair Pack, they weren’t connecting it to Sidheag. But it was the name Lord Mersey that really gave them pause.
Both flywaymen focused on Felix in a panic.
Obligingly, Felix stepped forward. He had gone back to his old looks and expression—a paragon of aristocratic boredom. His slightly full lips were too pouty. His blue eyes weighed the world and found it wanting. He slouched just enough not to mess with the cut of a fine Bond Street jacket—had he been wearing one—nothing more than the indolent son of a powerful man. Here was a boy accustomed to getting anything he wanted out of life. He thought he could have her just as easily, and she adored teasing him with the fact that he could not. In that moment, Sophronia again found him wildly attractive.
The flywaymen reacted to Felix’s attitude. Even though they were criminals; even though they were little better than thieves of the sky; even though they were outside society—they could not deny hundreds of years of the British class system.
Sidheag was good at being autocratic. But her aura of command came out of an acerbic nature, from knowing that if upset she could eviscerate with her tongue. Felix, on the other hand, simply assumed superiority. One was compelled to obey him because of who he was, rather than what he might do.
It was wonderful to watch. Sophronia wondered if she could simulate such an aura of ennui and discontent or if it had to be trained from birth.
The two men trusted in Felix’s stated identity.
“Lord Mersey,” said the leader, “we know of your illustrious father, of course.”
So they are connected to the Picklemen!
Felix tilted his head. “And you are tempted into contemplating ransom? You are thinking that here you have a train full of valuable cargo?”
The flywaymen looked more shocked than tempted.
Stubby said, “I know the Duke of Golborne well enough to realize he would not respond well to such behavior.”
Felix nodded crisply. “Good, we understand each other.”
And Sophronia was beginning to understand their situation.
Felix did not mention that there was a fair chance these flywaymen were, untraceably of course, in his father’s employ. If these flywaymen were up to something that would cause the vampires to track them, there was a good chance that something was a Pickleman plot. Sophronia’s heart wrenched. He had to know this, yet he gave no hint, not even to her. Despite the fact that she had been expecting it, Sophronia felt a keen sense of betrayal.
Stubby whispered in his shaggy companion’s ear.
Shaggy hurried back to the airship.
“Is that wise?” wondered Sophronia. “You are now all alone with us.”
Stubby laughed. “I am under the impression that you boys are not armed. Out for a lark, you said, didn’t you? Childish prank, stealing a train.”
Sophronia cocked her head. “Did we say unarmed?”
Dimity and Sidheag turned to look back at their train. The implication being that someone with a gun might be covering their backs.
The flywayman swallowed.
Sidheag added, “More like borrowing a train.”
Felix said, “You do know about Bunson’s, don’t you, Mr. Flywayman?”
“Most assuredly, most assuredly. One or two of our number once trained there.”
Felix wrinkled his nose at the very idea. “Hard times.”
Dimity and Bumbersnoot lurked to the back of their group. Dimity’s was the shakiest disguise. Sophronia was beginning to regret having let her join them. Why hadn’t she asked her to stay with Soap?
The flywayman was focused on Sophronia, Felix, and Sidheag, who each commanded, in their own way, an aura of evil genius mastermind, junior level. Remarkable, thought Sophronia, how a girl intelligencer could so easily become a boy evil genius.
The other flywayman returned at a jog and the two conferred privately.
The angle was extreme, but Sophronia thought she could lip-read the second man saying something about Duke Golborne.
Stubby turned; his face was now closed and suspicious.
“It is not your style, we understand, Lord Mersey, to commandeer a train. And you still have not explained why you were intent on following us.”
“Pure coincidence,” said Sophronia. “After all, there are only two directions to go on any given track.”
“Who are you to know anything of my style?” snapped Felix at the same time.
Oh, thought Sophronia, he is so good at pompous.
Shaggy spoke for the first time, his voice a low growl. “We cannot allow our plans to be cocked up by a band of scruffy boys. No matter whose son they claim to be.”
The first man raised his hand for silence and said, “Have you any proof, young squires, that you are who you say you are?”
Felix stiffened. “I do not need proof. Show me any member of society and they will vouch for me. I am known well to anyone who is anyone! Besides, who are you to demand proof of me?”
Sophronia arched her eyebrows and watched him work. He might even be thought too good. It was so easy for him to be a toffy-nosed dunderhead. No wonder Soap didn’t like him. She wasn’t certain that she liked this part of him, either. However, it was working in their favor, so she allowed Felix to get more riled, prepared to rein him in only if he became careless with his information.
“You are but a schoolboy!” objected Shaggy, not so easily cowed by rank as Stubby.
“I do not need to be of age to have a presence in society!” Now Felix was genuinely annoyed.
Shaggy took offense at Felix’s tone of superiority. He removed a deadly-looking little gun from a pocket and pointed it at him.
Sophronia felt it time to interject. “Now, now, gentlemen, let’s not be impetuous.”
That statement made Shaggy angrier. “You’ve been stalking us. You got yourselves some pretty valuable equipment, and some pretty valuable young men, and you think, what…? We just gonna let you boys continue trundling along on your lonesome?” This second flywayman was nastier than the first. Sophronia had thought Stubby the leader, but now she thought he was simply the speaker.
She appreciated Shaggy’s directness, and, to a certain extent, his nastiness. She considered a judicious reply.
Felix, on the other hand, did not. “That is exactly what I expect! You have no cause to interfere with our travels. Leave that to the authorities, if they can catch us.”
>
“I wonder what your father would say to that,” said Stubby.
“Father! Father! What do you know of my father?” Felix practically steamed, like an overwrought boiler.
“Lord Mersey,” said Sophronia, “that is enough!”
Felix turned on her, red about the ears.
Sophronia gave him a little wink and a small smile, trying to lighten the mood with flirtation. It worked. Felix clearly remembered not only their need for caution, but also the fact that Sophronia and the others were ladies in disguise, and he must needs behave like a gentleman around them, whether these flywaymen knew it or not.
His arms relaxed to his sides.
Shaggy came over all suspicious at this, perhaps because Felix, highest rank among them, had deferred to a winking Sophronia.
He said, “Come to think on it, he doesn’t look much like the duke. Do we trust his story? These boys could be with the hive.”
Stubby did not agree. “In those getups? Never have I known a vampire drone to be anything less than perfectly turned out.” His gaze shifted over Dimity. “That one is a positive sight.”
Felix bristled; now these criminals were insulting a lady friend.
“Who are you to judge?” he wanted to know.
“That’s enough out of you, lordling,” replied the second flywayman, pointing his gun with even more surety at Felix.
Felix had clearly reached his limit. Short tempers, reflected Sophronia, were a severe liability in her line of work. The young lord jerked in Shaggy’s direction. The flywayman was tenser than he seemed, for he shot Felix, right then and there.
The sound of the gun seemed particularly loud in the quiet countryside.
BUMBERSNOOT TO THE RESCUE
Time seemed to slow.
Birds in a nearby hedgerow took off in a small cloud.
Dimity screamed.
Sophronia leapt forward to Felix, her heart in her throat, absolutely terrified. “Felix!”
He was rocking around on his back, clutching the side of his thigh, his pretty face screwed up in agony. It must be bad, for he was getting his clothes all over dusty from the track. They were borrowed duds, but Felix was generally respectful of all clothing.
Waistcoats & Weaponry Page 18