“Cor,” said J, “that’s —”
His words were drowned out by a noise like screaming. Thaddeus and J were on their feet in an instant. There was a sharp thud and the ship shuddered, and then another thud, and another, as if it were being hit by rocks. The airship juddered and jerked, dropping lower and lower in the sky with each thud. J tried to pull the ship straight, but her nose sank into a dive.
“What is it?” Thaddeus yelled. “What’s happening?”
J didn’t need to answer. Outside the window, there came the sudden flurry of small, white bodies. A flock of seagulls came crashing down, spiraling, screeching as they fell, righted themselves, and swooped away.
“Oh, lawks — they must have run straight into the balloon!” J cried, fighting the rudders as the ship continued to fall. The metal steering arms were fluttering wildly, waving about as if in a thunderstorm, the direction lenses clattering against each other. J thumped the directional gauge back into its panel. The arms folded safely back into the ceiling, out of harm’s way, which was more than could be said of Thaddeus and J.
“Pull her up,” Thaddeus shouted, as they continued to plunge. The sea below had darkened as the sun rose, and now shone blue-black, and the waves that had seemed so tiny just moments ago were rearing up like full-grown horses.
“What the bleedin’ ’eck do you fink I’m trying to do?” J yelled back, wrestling with the controls, wrenching them back as the ship bucked away from him. “There’s vents that open when you want to deflate the balloon — they let the gas out. A bird must have run right into one. We’ve lost gas — we’re too heavy!”
“What do we do? Can’t you re-inflate it?”
“Not mid-flight. Oh no.” J’s voice could barely be heard above the fierce cacophony that filled the airship, but Thaddeus knew exactly what he was talking about.
Out of the window, directly in front of them now that the ship was taking a nose dive, was another ship. This was the normal variety, one that floated and bore sails rather than a balloon, and it was coming up before them fast.
“If we crash into them, we’ll burn,” J screeched, still trying to yank the ship back under control.
“What do you mean, burn?” Thaddeus asked, shouting over the growing maelstrom of noise and fear.
“The gas in the balloon,” J panted. “It’s pretty — what you call it — it burns really easy, like.”
“Volatile?”
“That’s the one!”
Thaddeus wiped a hand over his face.
“I might just have forgotten to mention that bit during our tour,” J managed through gritted teeth.
“Yes,” said Thaddeus. “Yes, J, I think you just might have done.”
The sailors on the ship below were now fully aware of their predicament. They were all standing on the deck, waving their arms as if to shoo away a giant bird.
{Chapter 17}
CAGED
Rémy shifted uncomfortably against the cold, damp stone floor. Her arms had gone to sleep, thanks to the viciously tight handcuffs the police had insisted on clamping around her wrists. They were fastened behind her back, too, to make it even more difficult for her to move. Rémy’s ankles were also chained. The cell they’d left her in was dim, with no windows and only one exit — the locked metal grill they had pushed her in through. All in all, the police who had captured her had made it nearly impossible for her to even contemplate an escape. Little Bird was well and truly caught.
Rémy cursed her stupidity. She should have been more careful — of course cutting off her hair wasn’t enough of a disguise. Still, she was surprised at how quickly the baker had recognized her. And it wasn’t as if she’d seen any of the wanted posters that had been at Calais stuck up anywhere around the town. It almost made her wonder if someone had tipped them off. Someone who knew exactly who she was . . .
Her thoughts were cut short by the sound of footsteps echoing along the narrow corridor outside. The jangle of keys told her it was her jailor. He’d obviously been told to check on her every half hour, because he’d dragged his fat form down to her prison cell at least three times already. Despite her predicament, this thought made Rémy smile. That so many men in uniform could be so worried about one small girl in breeches and boots! All she needed was one chance, and she’d be out of here. Unfortunately for Rémy, it didn’t seem as if the gendarme here were quite as stupid as most of the ones she’d crossed the paths of before.
The chubby policeman trudged into view. He was puffing with the simple effort of walking, and Rémy cursed her chains. Without them, he’d be no match for her, even with the bars between them. To her surprise, instead of just glancing in to check that she was still there, he stopped and fitted one of the keys to the lock.
“What do you want?” Rémy asked as he pulled open the whining grill and stepped into the cell.
“Lawyer’s here to see you,” he said gruffly.
“Lawyer?” Rémy repeated, confused.
“Aye. Just behave yourself,” the gendarme said as he undid the cuffs around her ankles and pulled the chain out so she could stand. He put one hand on her shoulder and pushed her toward the door.
“What about my wrists?” Rémy said, rattling the cuffs that still bound them behind her back.
“You must be joking,” said the policeman with a wheezing half-laugh. “What do you think I am, a half-wit? Go on, get on with you.”
Rémy walked along the corridor with him pushing her all the way. Her mind was working overtime. A lawyer? Her? There was neither any way she could afford one, nor any who would come to her aid unasked. So what was all this about? Not that she was complaining — she just needed to use this sudden and unexpected boon to find a way out of these cuffs . . . and then the police station.
They reached a room that was only marginally brighter than the cell she’d just left, but it also held a table and two chairs. Rémy’s overweight captor pushed her through the door and slammed it shut behind them. A moment later it opened again, and a man in coattails entered.
Yannick! It was Yannick, dressed in his stage clothes!
Rémy was about to say something when he held up a hand to silence her and turned to the policeman. “Take off her cuffs.”
“I’m not —” the man began, but something distracted him and he stopped. Yannick was still holding up his hand, and the gendarme was staring at his long, thin fingers moving slightly in the damp air.
“I’ll say that again,” Yannick stated calmly. “Undo. Her. Cuffs.”
The policeman seemed to sag a little, his eyes losing focus. He shook his head, as if there was something in his ear. Then, without another word, he walked forward, pulling the bunch of keys from his belt. He picked one out and jerked his chin at Rémy, indicating that she should turn around. She did, and a moment later she felt the cuffs loosen.
Rémy Brunel didn’t need another chance. Seconds later, she and Yannick were outside the room, slamming the door shut with the silent policeman still inside and his bunch of keys in her hand.
“Quickly,” hissed Yannick. “He’s not properly under, and I can’t hypnotize everyone we meet. We’ve got to get out of here!”
They ran down the passageway. At the other end, the prison’s main door opened into a courtyard paved with broken cobbles. The rest of the police station was built around it, with an arch at one end. Beyond the arch was the rest of the town and freedom. To escape, Rémy and Yannick would have to cross right through the courtyard.
“There are gendarme everywhere,” Rémy said in a harsh whisper. “We’re never going to get out of here alive!”
“See over there?” Yannick asked, nodding toward the other end of the courtyard, where two sturdy horses waited patiently, still between the shanks of the cart they’d been pulling.
“How are we going to —”
Rémy’s question was cut off b
y the sound of footsteps echoing up the corridor behind them. They both turned to see a uniformed police officer striding toward them. He stopped, hesitating for a moment as he saw them. Before he could reach for his whistle or raise a shout, Yannick had thrown up his arm, walking steadily toward the man as he spoke.
“We should be at the courthouse,” the magician ordered calmly, in the same voice he used on stage. “You will take us on the horses out there. You will take us now.”
“Yannick,” Rémy began, but he cut her off with a flick of his other hand. The policeman didn’t even look at her. His gaze was fixed on the magician, who was still holding up one hand.
“You should be at the courthouse now,” said the gendarme after a moment, as if Yannick hadn’t even spoken. “I must take you there.”
The man started to walk again, shaking his head as he passed Rémy without as much as a glance. He strode out into the courtyard beyond.
“Follow him,” Yannick told her. “Keep your head down, and your wrists together, as if you are in irons. Come on, we need to look as if he’s the one in control.”
Yannick pulled her by the arm, walking out into the open courtyard and giving Rémy no choice but to follow.
“They’re going to see us,” Rémy hissed. There were policemen everywhere.
“Keep going,” Yannick whispered. “We just need to get to the horses. A few more minutes, and —”
“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”
The challenge had come from a group of officers who had been sitting at a table, playing cards. One stood up as they others looked around curiously.
“The courthouse,” Yannick said, shortly, letting go of Rémy so he could raise his hand. “We —”
A shout echoed up the corridor from the prison, followed by another, and then the sound of running feet.
“The guard,” Yannick told her, “it’s worn off. Run!”
They went for the horses, barging past their would-be captor as uproar broke out around them. It took precious seconds to unhitch them from the cart, but once the animals were free, Rémy only needed one leap to mount her ride, vaulting over its rear and landing on its bare back. Wheeling the animal around, she made for the open archway, the creature’s hooves clattering on the rough flagstones hard enough to send up sparks. Rémy heard Yannick behind her, but didn’t turn to look. She was too busy avoiding the policemen brave enough to try to stop a charging horse. One managed to grip her ankle, but she saw him off with a kick that sent him sprawling to the cobbles.
A moment later they were through the arch and into the town beyond. Rémy had no idea where to go. As if he’d heard her thoughts, Yannick shouted for her to follow him. He clattered a sharp left and then a sharp right. Rémy followed him as they wound through the small town, hearing distant shouts and the occasional police whistle as the search for them continued. Eventually they reached the town gate and rode through it at a flat gallop, charging along the dirt roads and into the forest, leaving the town and its police behind them.
{Chapter 18}
TERROR IN THE AIR
“J!” Thaddeus yelled as the airship began to creak and quiver. “Tell me you’ve got an idea!”
“B-b-ballast!” J yelled back, his voice vibrating along with the ship as he held on to the shaking controls. “W-w-we’ve got to u-u-unload some — we’ve g-g-got to l-l-lose weight — get h-h-higher!”
“Tell me how,” Thaddeus ordered, over the now constant noise of wood and metal under strain. It felt as if the entire craft might come apart at the seams at any moment.
“Open the h-h-hatch,” J bellowed. “Ch-ch-chuck anythin’ out y-y-you’s can g-g-get yer hands o-o-on! I’m going to l-l-link up the r-r-ruby again, see if sh-sh-she’s got anyfing e-e-else left in ’er. H-h-hurry! They d-d-down there are c-c-comin’ up q-q-quick!”
Thaddeus glanced through the shuddering window, seeing that the ship below now filled it entirely. He thought briefly that they were lucky the boat wasn’t a frigate, because Thaddeus was pretty sure that if it had been, he and J would have a primed gun trained on them right now.
He wrenched the hatch lever open, but the airship was traveling so fast that, even unfastened, the wind kept it shut. He braced his shoulder against it, fighting against the element outside that whistled and screamed at their violent descent. For a moment his efforts were useless, and then the hatch disappeared from beneath him, torn away so fast that it almost took Thaddeus with it. The air outside sucked at him, trying to drag him out. If he hadn’t grabbed at the lintel and held on for dear life, it would have succeeded.
Eyes blinded by a stream of tears, Thaddeus staggered backward against the inner wall beside the open hatch. Through it he could see the gangway hanging in the air, flapping wildly in the current. The ship lurched to one side, favoring its open side.
“The barrel!” J yelled, not even turning around as he continued to wind the ruby’s control. “That’s heaviest!”
Thaddeus forced himself away from the door and toward their store of water. Reaching it, he paused to check the seal of the cork in the top before tipping it onto its side and pushing toward the hatch. It was heavy and ungainly, despite the now sloping kilter of the floor. Thaddeus tried in vain to aim it straight toward the gangway, but it crashed into one of the cabinets to the right of the hatch instead. The cupboard splintered like firewood, sending lethal shards of wood flying through the air. One struck him in the cheek. He felt blood as the blankets that had been folded inside rushed toward freedom, taking flight like huge birds and vanishing through the hatch.
“Get it out!” J yelled again. “Yer’ve got to get it out, or —”
Thaddeus dragged the barrel around, forcing it against the lip of the opening. For a moment it teetered there, as if hesitating before the leap. Then it was gone.
The airship immediately tipped up a little, buoyant without the weight, but it was still dragging to the side thanks to the open hatch. Thaddeus caught the end of the rope that would close it, but it was as heavy as dragging a dead body from the bottom of the Thames. He braced all his weight against it and pulled, the effort sparking lights behind his eyelids. Suddenly he felt another weight added to his — J had left his post to help. Together they heaved. At first it seemed as if nothing was happening, but then the gangplank lifted into view.
“One more pull, J!” Thaddeus yelled. “On my count — one, two — THREE!”
Their last effort was enough to put the walkway on the right side of the gale outside. It slammed shut with such force that they both crashed to the floor. The airship recovered and lifted a little more.
It wasn’t enough. As they scrambled to their feet, they saw the mast of the ship below them coming up fast, threatening to hit dead-center to the main window’s glass. J swore, lunging for the control panel and yanking the airship’s rudder hard to port. They swung, nose up at last, but not quite enough — the mast of the other ship struck them a glancing blow to starboard. They could hear it scraping along the airship’s hull with a noise as vile as chalk dragged hard down a black-painted board. J pulled at the rudder again, but still the mast gashed them from stern to aft. Thaddeus half expected to see it punch a hole right through, but somehow the airship tore herself free. She flew out over open water.
Neither of them could talk for quite a while after that. They simply stared out of the window as the airship gained altitude again, watching as the coast of France drew ever nearer.
{Chapter 19}
BANDIT COUNTRY
For the first few miles of their ride, both Rémy and Yannick were anxious that they may be followed, but they could spy no riders behind them. Neither did they pass anything on the dusty road, which grew steadily steeper as they went on. They hadn’t spoken much since their escape — at first, they were both too out of breath. Now, Rémy had no idea what to say.
“Why did you do it?” she asked e
ventually. “Why did you help me escape?”
Yannick looked over at her. He’d removed his top hat but was still dressed in his stage coattails. The outfit looked rather odd, given that he was riding a thick-legged carthorse. “Do you really think I’d just leave you there?” he asked. “You should know me better than that, at least. We circus people have to stick together, no matter what, isn’t that right?”
Rémy smiled wanly. “Well, thank you.” Then, after a moment’s thought, she added, “Not that I couldn’t have got out of there on my own.”
Yannick raised his eyebrows. “Of course. You were just . . . waiting for the opportune moment.”
“Exactly.”
The magician grinned and then raised his face to the sun, breathing in deeply.
“Ah, smell that, Little Bird,” he said. “That beats the stink of the East End any day, doesn’t it?”
“That I can’t deny,” she agreed. “This does indeed smell a good deal better than Limehouse.”
The magician screwed up his nose. “All those people squashed one upon the other,” he said, “the stench of the opium dens, rising up to meet the reek of burning oil and dirty flesh. I am amazed you stayed for as long as you did, Rémy.”
She shrugged. “A city is like a circus. It’s about more than its parts, Yannick. It’s about the whole.”
Yannick turned in his saddle to look at her, his eyes shadowed despite the sunlight. “Ahh,” he said, “you are thinking of the best man you know again, are you?”
Rémy stayed silent. Yes, she was thinking about Thaddeus. How could she not? She missed him. She wondered what he was doing at that moment, back in London. Rémy could imagine him leaning over his desk, the usual frown of concentration creasing his forehead as he puzzled over some piece of evidence he’d collected. Unexpectedly, she felt tears prick at her eyes and blinked them away. If her last escapade had shown her anything, it was that she could never fit into polite society. There would always be the risk of someone recognizing her as a thief who should be behind bars. What did you think you were going to do? Wed him? Become a respectable little London housewife? Yannick’s earlier jibe may have stung, but it was no less true for that.
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