Markus chortled. “Captain Trant’s men never show up to these sort of parties. Too beneath them.”
Delphine sniffed. “I know one young officer of the Libby who’ll be waiting for me.”
Anya giggled. “I don’t doubt it. Jake was so sad when Del told him to dance with you, Ali.”
“Wait, what?” Carialis looked from one friend to the other. The fear that had started to knot in her stomach tightened, and Carialis reached behind her to try to loosen her corset.
“Come, dearest, do you really think someone like Davison would know the proper way to get your mother’s permission?” Del asked, leaning forward on her bench across from Ali. “I thought it’d be a lark to have him show all the high-bornes how to get the most desirable maiden in the room to dance with him. Mother Trant was fit to be tied watching the two of you.”
Carialis frowned, hurt by her friends fun at her expense. She remained silent the rest of the way to Anya’s home. They whirled past the footman with a backward glance as they rushed up the marble stairs to Anya’s room.
“We can’t take the carriage, the servants will talk,” Del whispered as she pulled her gloves off. “What about the trolley?”
Ali wrinkled her nose. “The stench of the smoke will get into our clothes.”
“What of it?” Anastasia asked, throwing a linen dress at her. “We can just burn the clothes and take a bath in the morning.”
The bar was filled beyond capacity with many airmen gathered at its door. Most of the women sat on airmen’s laps while a few were dancing on the tables. The cacophony of voices and the mismatched band made up of a concertina, a banjo, and a steel drum assaulted Ali’s ears. The press of bodies was suffocating, and the thick tobacco smoke gave the room a dreamlike haze. Markus brought them to a hidden side door that had been left open for ventilation, and it didn’t take long for the trio of high-borne women to be separated.
Carialis glimpsed Delphine meeting Lieutenant Davison, at the edge of the bar, and she could only guess where Anastasia had wandered off to. As for herself, Ali kept to the side of the room, near the door. She took a tankard from one of the trays that was being passed around and sipped at the warm, stale beer. Her instincts told her to turn and leave. She could easily sneak back the way they had come and be ready for her family coach to pick her up in the morning, but she didn’t want to hear Del’s snippy remarks about her being unable to handle herself. She started to edge her way around the room, trying to blend in.
The band started another jig, and she saw Anya in the center of the room, dancing with a tall man with long blond hair that went past his waist. Carialis remembered meeting him once and was surprised that a fleet commander would be attending a party on the docks. He was quick to wrap his arms around Anya, and, Ali noted, Anya wasn’t ashamed to reciprocate. The two dancers made their way to the back of the room, and Ali followed, keeping an eye on them.
There was a nearly empty table waiting for them in the corner. A dark haired man sat watching with his arms folded across his chest and another man lay passed out on the table. The blond man pulled a chair out for Anastasia and took another beside her. When he noticed Carialis, he gestured for her to join them. The dark haired man stood and offered his seat to her.
Ali smiled shyly at him. Something about the way his green eyes followed her was familiar, and she realized he had been watching her since they had entered. He had kept better track of her and her friends than she had. Her smile widened at the realization as she sat.
“Isn’t it brilliant, Ali?” Anya shouted over the din. “You’ve met Commander Navarro Grey before, haven’t you?” she asked, gesturing to the blond. She rolled her cerulean eyes. “Of course you have!” She turned to the commander. “She’s Captain Trant’s daughter.” The last two words were shouted just as the music stopped for the players to get a drink, and the name Trant was heard by many surrounding them. Anya ducked her head at being overheard, but she laughed and waved her hand dismissively.
The look passed between the commander and the dark haired man went unobserved by her friend, but Carialis caught it. She folded her hands to keep from fidgeting and gave the commander one of her most pleasant smiles. “Commander.”
He reached out, took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Mistress Trant, I am surprised to see you here.”
She shrugged and forced herself to look away. “I could say the same of you. Not many commanders are out so near a launch.”
Grey laughed. “I’m astonished you hadn’t heard. I’ve been demoted to freighter duty. It’s cargo for me and my crew while the rest find glory in His Majesty’s service.”
The dark haired man scoffed.
“Problem, Dom?” Grey asked.
“Not at all, sir,” the man, Dom, replied. “But I think we may want to get the ladies away from here soon.”
Anya pouted. “We only just got here.”
“Aye, and you announced who you were just a moment ago,” Dom countered. “There’s a great number here not happy to be shipping out, and getting their hands on Trant’s daughter is the next best thing to the man himself.”
A shiver ran through Carialis. She’d heard the whispers of discontent, despite her father’s attempts to keep her from hearing them. The commander was about to reply when a scream came from the bar, followed by the sound of metal clearing scabbard.
“Delphine,” both girls shouted and stood.
Carialis and Anastasia were pushed back behind Dom while the commander drew his sword and rushed to the bar. The third man at the table bolted awake, and after a nod from Dom, was quick to Grey’s side. There was no time for the girls to register what was going on as the fight took over like a wave through the crowd. A rough hand grasped her wrist, and Ali found herself being pulled through the fray to rear exit of the pub. She shouted for Anya, who cried out and was soon clutching her free hand. When they burst through the door, their pace didn’t slow until they reached the gangway of a flat-bellied airship.
“Stop, my feet hurt,” Anya whined.
Dom slowed but didn’t stop.
Looking over her shoulder, Carialis saw the fight had spilled out onto the dock, and Dom stepped away for the two girls to board the ship.
“Safest place for you is going to be here until that calms down.”
“What about Del?” Anya whimpered.
With a nod toward the bar, he replied, “The commander is bringing her now.”
Carialis looked down the dock where Commander Grey was carrying Delphine over his shoulder, pursued by several officers wearing Liberation uniforms. She could hear Del’s screams and almost stepped forward until she realized that the Libby’s was fighting men of another ship that she didn’t recognize. With a smirk, Ali walked up the gangplank and leaned against the railing.
She wasn’t used to the open deck freighter ships, every ship her father had commanded had been a battleship with limited area to move. She took a step back as Grey cleared the plank with Markus a step behind.
“Draw her free, Dom,” Grey shouted and dropped Delphine to the wooden deck.
Dom was slow to follow the order, and Ali was quick to the hook rope, pulling it free. The gangplank on her side dropped from the dock, and she went to finish the other side. The gear stuck, and she leaned out to free the knot that had caught in the handle. It was a finger’s width from her reach, and she inched herself out, trying to shake it loose. With a start, she slid forward, and her body froze as she viewed the open expanse beneath her. She hadn’t realized they had come to the third tier of the depot. It would be a five-story drop to the deck of the ship beneath of them. She wrapped the rope around her wrist, hoping that if she fell, she would at least be strong enough to hold onto the freighter. Hands wrapped around the belt of her dress, and she was pulled back to the safety of the deck.
“Are you alright?” Dom asked as he held her close.
She waited for her breathing to slow, letting the rhythm of his heart against her ear help regulate i
t. For one moment, she took comfort in his embrace and ignored the glares from Del and Anya toward their unseemly closeness. When she had calmed she nodded and pulled away.
“Thank you, Mister . . .”
“Lowe,” he finished. “Domaroc Lowe.”
“How foolish are you girl?” her father shouted, his cheeks turning from red to purple.
Her mother huffed beside him. “What if someone had seen you?”
Captain Trant’s eyes narrowed as he turned his glare to his wife. “Yes, that is what matters here, Carolyn. Propriety,” he snarled. “Do you even understand what could have happened?”
Carialis stayed seated with her hands folded in her lap and her eyes downcast. The blanket that Domaroc had wrapped around her had slid from her shoulders and gathered at her waist. Anastasia was holding a whimpering Delphine on the settee. Commander Grey had radioed the Liberation when he was sure all three girls were unharmed and the fight had moved elsewhere. Captain Trant had come for the three of them in person. It had been a silent carriage ride back to her home, but Carialis knew what was in store and wasn’t surprised at the tantrum her father was employing. Her friends on the other hand, were not used to an airman’s temper.
A knock came at the parlor door.
“What?” Her father whirled on his heel.
Winston, the butler, used to her father’s temper, stepped back at the anger in the one word. He cleared his throat and answered in a strained voice, “The young ladies’ parents have come for them.”
Trant nodded briefly. “Good. Carolyn, see them off.”
“But,” her mother protested.
“Now,” shouted her father.
When they were alone, Carialis stood and went to her father’s side. “I am sorry, Father.”
He reached out and pulled her into an embrace. It took a few moments for Ali to relax into the hug. Such tenderness was unusual from her father. Captain Trant was not known for his affection.
“Dearest, Cari, you don’t know what is happening out there. Your mother doesn’t want you to see it, and tonight, you forced my hand.”
She stepped back. “Father?”
He went to the window and pulled the thick damask curtain open. “I am not a liked man, and we are going to war. I would do anything to keep you safe, and that may mean something you and your mother will not like.”
Ali looked out at the sleeping city. They could see the tiered dock with the Liberation in its place of prominence at the top. There was nothing of the impending war in the quiet of the night.
“Here is not safe while I am gone,” continued Trant as he let the curtain fall back into place. “I am going to send you to the capital on Grey’s freighter.”
Ali had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the thought of her mother on a freighter.
She couldn’t hide her amusement from her father though.
“I trust Commander Grey more than any ship’s captain in the fleet. He’ll keep you safe.”
“He’s not demoted is he?” she asked.
Trant shook his head. “He’s carrying messages for me. Playing the disgraced commander suits him, and I allow it. Now, go and sort your things while I inform your mother.”
The noise from the main room woke Carialis in the morning, and she heard her mother shouting at the servants. It usually took her mother half a season to prepare the house for a shut down and move. Her father had given them only a day and a half. Ali had prepared her travel chest as her father had taught her, fast and proficiently.
She dressed and went to the dining room for breakfast. The chef had created a buffet of sorts, and she could hear her mother’s disdain at it. Chef was arguing that the servants and crewmen would be hungry, and this was the most efficient method of caring for everyone. Ali nodded her approval to the chef and grabbed an apple and a scone before making her way to the library. The one room that was moved as a whole between the two houses, she never felt comfortable letting servants handle her father’s precious books.
Most of the tall oak shelves were already packed away in crates and only one person was making short work of the final few.
“Mister Lowe,” she greeted. “I am surprised to see you here this early.”
He looked up from the scarred map he was reviewing before rolling it into the storage tube. “Captain Trant had this in mind for quite some time. While most the city is watching the fleet shove off, he figured no one would notice a freighter crew.”
“You know my father well?” she asked as she pulled one of the log books from the shelf and began rearranging a crate to fit it.
“Well enough,” he replied as he sealed the tube. “He is an honorable man.”
“Have you served with him?”
Domaroc laughed as he paged through a sketchbook from the desk before packing it. “I’m not an officer, Mistress Trant. I’m just a mechanic.”
“A mechanic that happens to be the son of Chancellor Morris-Lowe,” she prodded. It was a hunch, but she had remembered why he had seemed familiar to her.
“Grandson,” he corrected as he picked up the crate lid. “I do commend you on drawing the connection.”
“It’s what I do,” she replied, smiling a little less pleasant than she intended.
“I bet,” he said under his breath, while shifting the lid into position.
She came up to him and placed a hand on his wrist. “What do you mean by that?”
“This is how you live,” he stated, and went to the large canary cage near the desk. He shifted the drape to reveal the huddled birds and gestured to the room around them. “Only your cage is much larger.”
“Are you calling me a bird?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, even a bird has the ability to fly.”
“I could fly if I wanted to.”
“But you do want to,” he replied. “Your father would never allow it, though.”
“You hardly know me,”
“You’re right, but I do know what I saw last night. While your girlfriends were whining about sore feet and broken hearts, you were trying to cast off a freighter with little regard to your safety.”
“Perhaps, if you were quicker at taking orders, I wouldn’t have had to.” Carialis let a smile play her lips. She knew she should be insulted that he spoke so freely to her, but it was refreshing. Even her mother couldn’t argue his pedigree, and despite his position, he was her equal—a rare find. An unconventional idea came to her as she stared at the birds. There was another way for her to break from her cage.
“Would you make a wager?”
He arched an eyebrow.
She crumbled a bit of the scone and fed it to the canaries. Removing the hook off the latch, she reached in for one. It sat docilely in her hand and pecked at the dry baked good. “My father leaves for a three month tour. In that time, I will break out of the ‘cage’ as you call it and make a name for myself.”
“How do you intend to do that?” he asked.
“Call on me in three months, and you will see.”
“A wager usually has stakes,” he grinned. “What are you proposing?”
“I think you’ll be the one proposing by the end of the wager.” The word tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them. She could feel the blush in her cheeks before she finished the sentence. Quickly setting the bird back on its perched, she turned to flee the room, not wanting to hear his response to her foolishness.
He stepped in her way, and placing a hand under her chin, forced her to look him in the eye. She could see the surprise and intrigue as he looked down at her.
“Why would I do that?”
She took a shuddering breath and let it out slowly, allowing herself to adopt the cocky stance she had watched Delphine use with a hundred suitors. “Because you could do no better than me.”
He let his hand drop to his side and laughed. “Just how much did you drink last night?”
“Enough to know you’re right, and so am I,” she smirked. “What do you sa
y?”
He shook his head. “I’ll call on you in the capitol and see how you do, Mistress Trant, but I highly doubt the results will be what you expect.”
The flight to the capitol was slow aboard the StarStryker. Commander Grey had given them his cabin, which held every convenience and allowed them to forget they were onboard a freighter. Still, her mother feigned airsickness and forced Cari to sit and read to her. She didn’t dare to leave longer than an hour to get some fresh air. If her mother caught her leaving, she was to be escorted by either Winston or the Commander.
One night, she snuck up onto the deck by herself. She always enjoyed watching the stars during flight. The freighter was noisier than the battleship, and there was more life on deck. She knew her mother would want her to stay away from the gambling, but when she saw that the house butler was tossing die, she couldn’t help herself from looking.
Before she could get to the circle of men, a strange whistle came to her ear. The crew stopped their game for a moment to listen as well, but when the sound did not stop, they shrugged it off and continued. The whistle was growing more shrill, and a knot formed in her stomach. Ali had heard the sound once before and seen the results if it. Turning on her heel, she rushed to the engine room, thankful her father had ship schematics in his library and allowed her to look them over.
As she grew closer, she could hear Domaroc shouting, and hurried. She entered the dimly lit room, the light compromised by the thick steam pouring from the boiler. Even with the small portholes open, the heat was intense and sweat began to bead against her skin. She saw the mechanic and two other crewman laboring near the boiler. Their backs were to her, and they did not notice her.
“C’mon, you chicken-breasted bunter,” cursed Dom as he reached into the coils of tubes that led to the cannister. “Damn it! Give it a go, Dooley. I can’t reach it.”
The man beside him brought his hands up. “Do these mits look like they could fit?”
Dom sighed and punched the boiler. Turning to the other man, he ordered, “Tell Navarro that we need to make an emergency landing or evacuate.”
Cogs in Time Volume Three (The Steamworks Series Book 3) Page 14