Black Arts, Tarts & Gypsy Carts

by Erin Johnson

  “Run, Imogen!”

  22

  The Airship

  I crossed the field and as I sprinted toward the carnival workers’ encampment, I neared Madame Zerna’s caravan on the outskirts. Frennie must’ve seen me coming from the window, because she poked her head out the door, fighting to open it against the wind.

  “Why are you running?” she shouted from the stoop, the light spilling from the open door casting her in shadows.

  “I know who killed her!” My throat already burned from sprinting, and I didn’t even want to think about the winding streets I’d need to run up to reach the prison on the royal grounds at the top of the mountain.

  Frennie stopped dead. She shook herself as I passed without slowing. “Who?”

  “She—I—” I shook my head. “Later!”

  She frowned and from behind me called, “Not later, now! Slow down! Urg—I’m coming with you!”

  Well, that was fine by me, as long as she could keep up. Moments later she ran beside me, barely out of breath. I scowled. Lucky slim girl. Too many weeks baking (and snacking from the mixing bowl) had not made me light on my feet.

  “At least tell me where we’re going.”

  I pumped my arms, the diary under my left one. “Prison—air—pad.” I panted, a stitch pinching my side.

  “That’s at the top!”

  We dashed along the pier, against the flow of magic folk pouring into the carnival. We pushed our way through the crowd. “Excuse me! Excuse me!” Once past the entrance we picked up speed again.

  “We should use a Celeritas spell.” Frennie waved a hand and suddenly I felt as if I were running on a moving sidewalk, except one that went about ten times as fast as I could run. It felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

  She glanced over. “Stop screaming!”

  Was I screaming? “Ahhh!” I kept my eyes glued straight ahead of me. It took every ounce of concentration and coordination I had to dodge the vendors’ carts, turn left, and then right up the dark, winding streets of Bijou Mer, and avoid plunging into the many canals that crisscrossed the streets spanned by bridges without railings. My feet flew, and my stomach tightened with the fear that a momentary lapse of judgment and I’d go careening over the edge and plummet to the sea below, or flatten myself into a wall that hadn’t been there a split second before.

  We wound up and up in seconds, a journey that would’ve taken me twenty minutes sprinting, if I hadn’t collapsed first. My feet skipped over more even cobblestones, the roads growing wider and better lit. We neared the palace grounds and would be up against the gate soon. I hazarded a sideways glance at Frennie. “How do we stop?”

  The gilt, golden palace gates came into view with two guards on either side, their lances crossed over the opening. I’d raised my hands, bracing myself for impact, when Frennie waved her arm, ending the spell. She jogged to a stop, while I stopped on a dime and fell flat on my face.

  “Ow.” I peeled my cheek up, pebbles sticking to it.

  “Come on already. You’re in a hurry, right?”

  “Thanks so much for your concern.” I pushed myself up, my palms burning, and then stood. I brushed my hands against the skirt of my dress and smoothed it down. “No really, I’m fine.”

  She gave me a leveling look. “You’re the one in the big hurry, right? We’re nearly there.”

  The guards allowed me in and after a quick few words, where I may have pretended Frennie was a baking consultant, they let her in. They probably should have done a more thorough security check, but their laxity may have had something to do with the fact that I’d been bringing our extra croissants and muffins to the guards at the gate. I’d just been being nice, but that niceness had paid off. Though I wasn’t sure why Frennie had followed and helped me.

  We ran on, at normal speed, thank the sea goddess (another local saying—I was doing my best to acclimate to Bijou Mer). We headed right toward the prison and I felt both relief and a greater surge of nerves when the bramble patch appeared in front of us with the prison beyond. The huge airship sat atop the roof with the stars and clouds as a backdrop.

  We dipped down through the path that snaked through the thorny vines, the path dark and spooky. At least the ship hadn’t left yet, though as the wind nearly whipped my skirt overhead, it had to be leaving any second. But would I be able to convince Inspector Bon of Rhonda’s innocence? Would he even give me a chance?

  “You don’t have to come, you know.” I darted a glance at Frennie, barely huffing beside me.

  She narrowed her eyes and hardened her jaw. “I need to know who killed her, and since you apparently won’t tell me unless we’re at the airship, you bet your spongy little starfish I’m coming.”

  Okay then, might not be using that phrase. We reached the guard station and met the guy with the eye patch. I doubled over, one hand on my thigh, the other still clutching the book. A stitch burned my side and I tasted blood from the exertion.

  “Have—see—Inspector—”

  Frennie stepped forward. “She has evidence of who actually killed Madame Zerna and we need to see whoever’s in charge immediately.”

  I jerked a thumb at Frennie and nodded, gasping for breath. What she said.

  The guard unlocked the gate and we pushed inside. He cupped his hands to be heard over the howling wind. “You—can—try. But—they’re—already—loading.” He pointed up toward the roof on the far side of the courtyard where the enormous airship hovered, bouncing in the wind and pulling away from the thick ropes tethering it down. I gulped, then nodded at Frennie.

  “Come on!”

  We ran across the yard, the yells of the prisoners in the cells lining the open square adding to the din of the strong winds. Frennie plucked a torch from a wall and we leapt up the winding stone staircase in the corner. I tripped a few times, my legs shaky and tired and the light from the torch behind me casting a dim, flickering light on the steps. Finally, we spilled onto the roof.

  A square landing pad covered the corner of the building, with the airship hovering above it. It reminded me of an enormous dart, with its pointed golden nose and winged fins fanning around the tail. A golden metal box with tiny windows hung from it about thirty feet above the ground. Bleachers rose from one side of the pad, and I recognized the royal family, including (gulp) Hank and Princess Shaday, sitting there.

  At the top of the gangplank, far above the ground, armed guards escorted Nate, slouching, and Pritney, nose in the air, into the airship. Maybe that explained the royal family—those two were high-profile prisoners who’d tried to harm them personally. A part of me hoped that Hank had come to support Rhonda, too.

  I looked frantically around and spotted Inspector Bon in his cap standing at the base of the gangplank. I waved my arms in the air and shouted. When it became clear no one could hear me over the wind, Frennie grabbed my arm and dragged me forward. “Come on!”

  We ran up to the inspector, who frowned at me. “You’re not supposed to be here.” Wind played with the dark hair under his cap. Good thing it had a chin strap—otherwise it probably would have flown off by now and taken the terrible toupee underneath with it. Was that toupee new? He pointed to the staircase. “Go back, I don’t have time for you.”

  Frennie stood right in his face and jutted out her narrow chin. Her long braid blew past her. “She knows who killed Madame Zerna.”

  “So do I!” Bon pointed up the gangplank. Behind Nate and Pritney, guards dragged Rhonda up as she dug in her heels and leaned back.

  “She’s innocent!” I shouted in his face, and held up the diary. “Madame Zerna killed herself and tried to frame the dark magician Scullivan Night. She admitted so in her diary.”

  Frennie turned her huge eyes on me, her mouth slack. She stared at me for a long minute. “She killed… herself?”

  Bon frowned. “Where’d you get this so-called diary?”

  Frennie pressed a hand to her chest. “I found it. I’ve been her assistant for over ten years.” She t
urned to me. “I didn’t see any entry like that, though.”

  I glanced around. “Can you call Rhonda back down and do this in your office.” My bangs blew into my eyes, stinging them. I blinked through the pain.

  He shook his head, then looked behind me. I turned to follow his gaze and found Hank jogging over to us. My stomach fluttered with a mix of happy butterflies and dusty, grumpy moths. I wanted to see him, but I shouldn’t want to. Make up your minds, flying stomach insects!

  I smiled at him and he grinned back. I dropped my smile as I spotted Princess Shaday over his shoulder in the bleachers, then gave him a polite, though serious nod, and thoroughly confused, turned away.

  “What’s going on?” Hank looked at me for answers.

  “I have evidence.” I held up the book, then brushed my flying hair out of my face. It was useless. “Rhonda’s innocent.”

  He rubbed his wrist. “I knew it.” He grinned at Inspector Bon. “Let’s hear her out then.”

  Bon’s throat bobbed and he pressed his lips together. “I… understand your interest, young prince, in the matters of your kingdom, but your own father, the king.” He gestured to the royalty on the bleachers. “Sees fit to simply watch the proceedings. Might I advise you to resume your seat? The airship must leave immediately due to the weather. Our officers can barely hold it as it is, and the winds are only picking up.”

  I looked closer at the airship and spotted officers stationed on the rooftop around it, their hands and wands aloft. Glowing streams of light flowed from them and formed a sort of bubble around the airship. I now realized that though the ship bobbed and pulled against its tethers, it and those on the gangplank weren’t touched by the strong winds. Magic shielded them. But for how long?

  “Can we get a—bubble thing around us too?” I nodded at the diary. “The loose pages will fly out.”

  A moment later silence encased us. I glanced at Hank, who held his hands aloft, and smiled. “Thanks.”

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  The wind battered at the bubble and my ears popped from the change in pressure. Frennie, Hank, and Inspector Bon leaned close as I held the book open in both arms. The page I’d revealed still glowed green. The three of them read—Bon astonished, Frennie saddened, and Hank relieved.

  Hank finished and looked up. He set his jaw. “Rhonda’s innocent. This proves it. Surely you must see that?”

  Inspector Bon rubbed his prominent chin and kept his eyes on the diary a while longer. Finally he spoke.

  “It does appear to be a confession. And we did find bottle fragments with traces of medicine beside the body that seem to match her description.” He flipped the page back and forth, examining it. “We’ll have to spell it to make sure the victim actually wrote it herself.” He shook his head. “But it doesn’t explain how she sawed herself in half.”

  “Could she have enchanted the saw with her dying breath?” I asked.

  Hank shook his head. “When a person dies, their magic dies with them.”

  “Unless….” Frennie tapped her fingertips against her mouth. Then she looked up with her big eyes. “Unless she literally enchanted it with her dying breath.”

  “Don’t follow.”

  “Remember, I told you about breath stealing?”

  I nodded, frowning.

  “Well, usually a necromancer will steal a dying breath, giving them control over the deceased. A good one will use it to communicate with the dead or conjure their spirit for fortune telling or giving the deceased or their family closure. A less scrupulous one might use it to control the dead, make them do their bidding.”

  “A saw is not a necromancer.” Inspector Bon gave her a dry look.

  “No, but Madame Zerna was. It would have taken great skill with death magic, but she had it.” Frennie grinned and shook her head. “Wily old witch. Her dying breath would’ve contained a concentrated amount of her life force. If done correctly, she could have used the breath-stealing spell to imbue the saw with her remaining power. Enough to saw her in half.”

  “I saw a spell circle around the table. The straw on the ground half hid it, but it was there.”

  Bon nodded. “Indeed.”

  He folded his hands behind his back and looked at the ground. I held my breath and darted a glance up the gangplank. Rhonda, with her police escort, had nearly reached the airship.

  “We’ll need time to review the evidence, so she must stay on Bijou Mer until that happens.”

  I bounced on my toes. “Does that mean she’s released?”

  Bon lifted his hazel eyes and gave a curt nod. “Yes.” He cupped his hands and called up the gangplank. “Release the prisoner!” His voice died in the bubble and he gave Hank a tired look.

  “Oh. Right.” Hank dropped his hands and with them, the bubble popped.

  Bon called again. The guards on either side of Rhonda exchanged shrugs, but turned around and headed back down with her, while Nate and Pritney marched into the airship. I let out a huge sigh of relief. Good riddance.

  A squeal made me look up the gangplank as Rhonda happy danced her way down. I gulped. She needed to be careful. That ramp had no railing and wasn’t very wide. Bon met her at the bottom and debriefed her.

  I turned to Frennie. “Thank you for helping us solve that.” I handed her the diary back. “You should keep this. Well… after Inspector Bon goes over it.”

  She took it in her thin arms and hugged it to her chest. “Madame Zerna probably would have loved to know a bunch of men in uniform were pouring over her deepest, darkest thoughts and confessions.” She smiled. “If Riga ever wants it, I’ll give it to her per the Madame’s wishes. But for now—I’ll treasure it and keep trying.”

  I nodded. “Hey. If I can learn magic, you can too.”

  She gave me a small smile, then nodded and moved away toward a group of officers.

  Hank turned to me. “You’re learning magic?”

  I nodded, feeling a weird mix of pride and guilt that I’d learned without him. “Edward the Strong and I have been doing lessons. He helped, of course, I’m not great yet—but I revealed the hidden pages in the diary.”

  He turned away for a moment and bit his lip. Color flushed up his throat and cheeks. “That’s great.” He turned back to me, breathing out a short exhale. “I knew you’d do great.” His voice came out tight. “Of course, the police should’ve been the ones to solve the murder.”

  I waggled my brows. “Maybe police training reform should be next on the royal docket.”

  He shook his head. “Definitely. If I can get my father to listen.”

  I glanced over at the king and queen, sitting on risers beside Hank’s brothers and their wives, and of course, Princess Shaday.

  He stepped closer to me, getting my attention. I looked up his tall frame at his stupidly handsome face. Pure thoughts, Imogen, pure thoughts. “How did you know to check the diary?” He frowned. “And why did you have it in the first place?”

  Rhonda skipped down the gangplank, already back to her usual self. She threw her arms around me, pinning my own to my sides, and rocked me side to side. “Because I asked her to save me! And she did, ’cause she’s the best!” She snuggled her cheek against mine, squishing my cheek and nose together.

  “You’re welcome.”

  She released me and I gasped for breath.

  Hank looked between the two of us. “You’ve been investigating a murder?” I bit my lip and kicked some imaginary dirt with my sandal toe, while Rhonda nodded enthusiastically, her tiny braids flying.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? You could’ve been hurt… or worse. Besides, I could’ve helped.” I couldn’t tell if he felt more worried, angry, or hurt.

  I winced. “I wanted to, you’ve just been—”

  “What?” He leaned forward, his blue eyes intense on my face.

  I sighed as Princess Shaday breezed over, her veils wrapping around her in beautiful shapes. “Busy,” I finished lamely.

  Luckily, a distraction
kept me from having to deal with an awkward encounter with Shaday. Francis suddenly popped into existence on the rooftop next to us.

  “Francis.” Hank turned to him and began to walk over. “How’d the treaty negotiation go with the—” He stopped short. Francis only had eyes for Rhonda. The vampire took three floating steps, his feet hovering above the air pad, and wrapped Rhonda in a tight embrace.

  I pulled my brows together. “Maybe they became good friends after judging the contest together?”

  The vampire pulled back, looked Rhonda over with his dark, intensely lined eyes, then pulled her face to his and kissed her passionately. She melted in his arms, then wrapped hers around his neck and pulled him tighter.

  “Oh!” I covered my mouth with my hands.

  “Sea snakes!” Hank’s arms hung limply at his sides.

  Even Shaday, Miss Imperturbable, widened her eyes in shock.

  “Oh geez!” I shielded my eyes and we all turned away as Rhonda wrapped her legs around Francis and his pale, long-fingered hands began to roam.

  Hank, the princess, and I stood in a little huddle, our backs to the couple. I considered yelling “Get a room,” but decided against it. Instead I clapped my hands together. “Okay then. Francis and Rhonda are…. How did that happen? Did you know?”

  Hank shook his head. “I had no idea.” His wide eyes stared off into the distance, unseeing. “He’d been disappearing more than usual the last few weeks. But that’s Francis—he comes and goes when he pleases.”

  I swallowed. “Where was he when Rhonda was jailed?”

  Hank rubbed his wrists, still dazed. “He, uh—he was negotiating some treaty on behalf of my father outside another kingdom. He left before Madame Zerna died, so he had no idea.” Hank raised his brows. “I didn’t think to tell him because—him and Rhonda?” Hank shoved his hands through his hair. “The world is insane.”

  I nodded in agreement. The happy couple appeared next to me, Rhonda still wrapped around Francis’s slender body, and standing on his feet, so that they both hovered. They rubbed and pawed at each other.