One of the handmaidens took Arsenic’s hand and guided it behind her back, to a small corded ribbon dangling from beneath the pillow, stiffer, more sturdy.
“You pull it,” said Lady Sakura.
“And what happens?”
“You float.”
Arsenic suddenly understood – the elaborate weight of it, the straps over her shoulders. “’Tis a parachute.”
“I do not know that word.”
“A huge parasol of fabric to catch the air and carry you to the ground.”
“Yes.”
Arsenic looked at the three handmaidens.
“Are all the ladies of Edo so equipped?”
“Yes.”
“You dinna trust the Paper City?”
“Would you?”
By the time they were finished, the handmaidens easily taking Lady Sakura’s weight to help her from the room, Percy had convinced the austere lord (or perhaps more importantly, the guards) that visiting an airship was not only a good idea but vital to his lady’s survival.
“How did you do it?” Arsenic asked Percy in French, hoping it was the least spoken language here.
“Not entirely sure. I praised the advancement of our technology. We may have to show them the boiler room or something.”
“That’s all?”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to tell Quesnel, but our boiler room is impressive.”
“But not medical.”
Percy winced. “Make certain you use every ridiculous gadget you have, even if it’s not necessary. Make it look good. Their only concern is her health, so their belief in our technological advancements is paramount. I preyed upon both.”
“Will do.”
“She does look ill. And she’s very small.”
“She’s also a hostage.”
Percy hardly changed expression. “Ours or theirs?”
“Theirs.”
“For what purpose?”
“I dinna know, but she isna the only one ill. There’s more of her family, on the ground. Also sick.”
“Why can it never be simple?”
“I’ve been given the impression that The Spotted Custard takes extraordinary measures to avoid simple.”
“You’d think we’d have grown out of it by now.”
Arsenic shrugged. “Think they’ll have found the missing spy by the time we get back?”
“Doubtful. I forgot to remind them that was part of our mission.”
“Good point.”
Percy would rather not remember putting the bicycle boots back onto the doctor. It was almost as erotic as it had been taking them off.
On the walk back, the Paper City continued to impress them by being slightly too empty and slightly too perfect, and thus eerie.
The wind had kicked up and was brushing by them, an odd sensation, as most of the time a dirigible was not windy because it nested inside a breeze, like a boat upon a current. But in Edo air rustled the dangling jewellery in Lady Sakura’s hair, making it tinkle merrily, even inside her litter.
The handmaidens did not make the return journey with them. The lord, whose name was impossible for Percy to pronounce, marched in front, the street quaking beneath him. The two guards carried the lady in her elaborate litter behind him. They did so with remarkable ease, as if it weighed nothing.
Percy offered Arsenic his arm and together they brought up the rear. Nervous and silent. They did not stop at the apothecary shop.
They found the Custard unchanged. The crew was mostly standing around abovedecks. There was none of the customary activity of being in a port – no refuelling or restocking. Everyone was sipping tea and making an appearance of relaxation. Percy automatically looked to Rue for reassurance, but for once her round face was set and serious, no smile to be seen.
An array of what could only be military men stood in formation dockside facing The Spotted Custard. These soldiers made no pretence at appearing relaxed. They stood to attention, facing the dirigible and its tea party, hands to the guns at their hips. As if the act of drinking black tea in the European style were a punishable offence.
For all Percy knew, it might well be.
The Japanese did not put milk in their tea.
Lord Ryuunosuke had an extensive ritualized conversation with the military fellow in charge, eventually convincing him that he and his party should be allowed to board. Apparently, this would only be permitted with a full complement of soldiers accompanying him.
Thus, The Spotted Custard was invaded.
Everyone was made tense by this, although Percy was pleased to see the crew made no outward show of it. The tea continued apace. Primrose attempted to foist beverages upon the new arrivals, as if the soldiers were merely guests paying a call.
In the companion hubbub activity, Rue managed to pounce on Percy.
“What on earth, Percy?”
“Arsenic wants her patient in the swoon room for a proper examination.”
“And they’re allowing it?”
“As you see.”
“With restrictions.”
“As you see.”
“And?”
“The patient is a little thing, one of those geisha I told you I read about. But that seems to mean more than my research initially suggested. I had thought geisha were entertainers of the elite and—”
“Percy, do not get distracted right now.”
“I beg your pardon, Rue. Where was I? Oh yes, the scaly lord chappie that’s with her, he owns her, or has her trapped, or something. Anyhoo she’s a hostage, says Arsenic. Should I make introductions?”
Rue looked over at Lord Ryuunosuke, who was squaring off with his two guards (the litter having been set down) and his newly acquired military enforcements, against Rodrigo and Quesnel, the decklings, deckhands, and a few stalwarts from the boiler room. Aggie was there too, spoiling for a fight.
Primrose offered more tea.
Percy frowned. This was not going well. “We don’t look very threatening.”
Rue looked over her stalwart crew, plucky, but honestly not all that vicious without weaponry or werecat.
“I see your point, Percy.”
“I had a point?”
“Different tactics are required.”
“Oh yes?”
“Like delicacy.”
“Don’t strain anything, Rue.”
“Your faith is heartening, Percy old sod.”
“Did you find any word of the Wallflower?”
“We haven’t been able to leave the ship, get word off it, or meet with anyone. How would we do that?”
“You have your wily ways.”
“I do?”
“They seem wily to me.”
“That’s because you have no guile at all, Percy.”
“Are you calling me honest?”
“No, dear, simply obtuse.”
“That’s fair.”
“So, the doctor wants us to rescue this patient?”
“I believe so. There’s definitely something wrong with her.”
“Percy, there’s always something wrong. Now introduce me to His Lordship so I can beat him over the head with diplomacy and delicacy.”
“I don’t think it works that way.”
“How would you know?”
“Fair point, come on.” He started and then stopped, remembering one last thing. “And I think that the ill lady is one of those fox shifters we were meant to find.”
“What? What!”
“You know, the—”
“Yes, Percy, I know. I meant you couldn’t have started with that little fact?”
“I only just deduced it.”
“What, just now?”
“Well, yes. You see, I’ve been neglecting something quite simple all along. To do with physics, I mean. I forgot that preservation of mass can be nothing more than a matter of density.”
“What?”
“When they lifted her litter, it was very very light.”
“Light?”
> “She weighs less than forty pounds, easily.”
“Light enough to shift into a largish fox?”
“Exactly.”
“Density? Of course. Oh, Percy, I hate it when you’re right.”
He patted her shoulder. “I know, Rue, apologies.”
Percy led his captain over to the visiting Japanese lord, bowed deeply, and made what he thought was a reasonably good introduction.
Lord Ryuunosuke, however, did not seem at all impressed with Rue. Which was not unusual. To be honest, as captains went, Rue was one of the least impressive he’d ever encountered. It took knowing about her metanatural abilities, or her parents, or her connections, or her attitude, or her unexpected success rates, to really be impressed by her.
Nevertheless, Rue must have access to some kind of diplomacy because she managed to get Lady Sakura, Lord Ryuunosuke, the two guards, and three of the military men belowdecks to Arsenic’s swoon room.
Percy didn’t follow, choosing to stay abovedecks and relay as much as he could (mostly in French and a little Italian) to his friends and crewmates about what had happened.
Primrose attempted to distract the remaining officials with ever more tea and even some biscuits.
The Japanese soldiers were bewildered by the biscuits, and then scandalized when Spoo demonstrated the dunking procedure favoured by decklings. Primrose ordered her to stop. Percy thought the decklings were perspicacious about biscuits, as ship’s biscuits were horrible hard old things after a month of travel. Cook made them that way on purpose, so they’d keep.
Although Percy would never have dared dip a biscuit himself, he did grab a few extras and pass them along to Spoo, who he knew had a love of the ghastly things.
TEN
How Not to Arrive Gracefully
Having access to her swoon room didn’t increase Arsenic’s ability to determine the nature of Lady Sakura’s illness.
She used every analytical device that she had, especially the most technologically impressive ones with long names and complicated patents. But they only told her what she already knew, that Lady Sakura was exhausted, driven to a weakened state by some draw on her system. There was no definable disease, it was a state of being or mind. And she was probably a supernatural creature.
The lady herself was of no help. She was even more peely-wally and fragile after the journey through the city, looking almost paper herself.
Frustrated, Arsenic turned to the lady’s keeper, using Anitra as interpreter. Lord Ryuunosuke looked as if he would prefer to ignore them both, but he was smart enough not to discount women entirely – anyone could be a threat.
“Have you tried taking her ground-side, consulting a doctor in Tokyo?”
“What good is that? All the best doctors are up here.”
“Perhaps she needs soil under her feet. Perhaps this is homesickness.”
“You speak as a scientist? Homesickness, pah.”
Anitra was funny, trying to express the Japanese lord’s disgust.
Arsenic did not take offence. “She is weakened by some pining that even my science cannot understand. She is fading. Why do you keep her up here anyway?”
“I? It is not I… Pah. She must stay in Edo and you must cure her, here.”
“Saying something must be dinna make it so. Her own body contradicts her condition. Is she eating enough protein?”
“She eats everything. Her kind always does.”
“Her kind? Geisha?”
His face went stony and withdrawn.
Arsenic considered her options. She wished Tasherit were awake. She’d like the werecat’s opinion on the matter. Supernatural creatures had extraordinary olfactory abilities, perhaps Tasherit could smell something.
I’m grasping at straws. And I’m running out of delaying tactics. She could no more determine a way to rescue Lady Sakura than she could cure her.
Lord Ryuunosuke seemed to sense her frustration.
“You’ve no idea what’s wrong, do you? So much for all your vaunted Western science.”
The only thing Arsenic could think to say to that, was something along the lines of, Well, if you gave me any information to work with, I could have success. This was entirely too rude, so she held her tongue.
“I must get her home.”
Lady Sakura opened her eyes. She was lying on the cot, so still only her eyelashes fluttered. “Thank you for trying, Doctor.”
“You’re sure there is nothing more you can tell me?”
The lady shook her head. “Perhaps it is my time.”
Arsenic winced. “I dinna accept that!”
“Very few can thwart death, child.”
With much pomp but admirable care, Lord Ryuunosuke carried the lady back up on deck.
The contingent of Japanese had begun bowing their way to departure when a shimmering in the deck, and a certain spiralling of cohesive aether, indicated Formerly Floote was about to make an appearance.
Arsenic tensed. If Tasherit was having a hard time being awake, no doubt ghostly manifestation would be even more challenging.
So it appeared to be the case. Or not appeared. Formerly Floote struggled valiantly to coalesce but in the end, he was nothing more than a loose amalgam of non-corporeal mist. He’d lost track of both eyebrows, they formed expressive articulations of emotion over his left shoulder. His arms and legs were much longer than they ought to be. Overall, he appeared stretched.
“He is either closer to poltergeist stage than we thought or whatever put Tasherit to sleep is pulling on him, too,” Arsenic said to no one in particular.
“I thought such things wouldn’t be possible with your tank,” said Percy to Quesnel.
The chief engineer got defensive. “The tank does its best, but even Lefoux technology cannot keep back the natural state of decomposition forever. It was bound to happen. Also, there is something wrong with the aether here.”
Lady Sakura held up a hand to stop Lord Ryuunosuke from closing the curtains of her litter.
“What did you say, young man? About the aether? That is the European word for spirit realm, is it not?”
But Quesnel never got a chance to answer, because Lord Ryuunosuke looked up from settling Lady Sakura and noticed Formerly Floote’s ghostly form.
At which juncture, he proverbially lost the plucked chicken.
He’d been, until that moment, such a solid stoic presence, Arsenic would have thought nothing likely to ruffle his feathers.
Ghosts, apparently, ruffled them. Or should one say shivered his scales?
He roared, gave a hissing shout, and flinched back, looking as if he might run to the railing and cast himself over the side of the Custard in horror.
The Japanese soldiers and guards also saw and reacted badly to the ghost. Some drew their weapons, others cowered back, but Lord Ryuunosuke’s reaction was the most extreme.
He began yelling in Japanese, as did many of the others, with Percy and Anitra trying to translate the diatribes. But they were speaking too fast for the two interpreters.
“Soooo,” said Arsenic, “they’re scared of ghosts.”
Only Percy paid attention to her. “Or our ghost. The lord keeps saying something about the masculine nature of the manifestation.”
Arsenic shrugged. “Male ghosts are less common than female.”
Rue was barking orders at their visitors, in English, so she was being ignored (even presuming that they would ever listen to a woman). Anitra was attempting to explain that Formerly Floote was a member of their crew, which only seemed to cause more horror. Primrose was waving biscuits around.
Lady Sakura fell back into her litter, hand to her heart.
Only Arsenic thought to go up to the ghost himself and ask why he was trying to manifest when conditions were obviously not conducive? Wouldn’t it be best, safest, and most comfortable for him to stay dead awhile longer?
Formerly Floote looked at her, wild and confused. He kept opening and closing his mouth.
�
�What is it, Formerly Floote?” Arsenic used his full title so that he might remember himself. Remember his cohesion.
“Little doctor?”
“Aye.”
“I have to. I must say… What did I need to say?” His voice was an echo of itself, the memory of words rather than the real thing. “Oh yes. There are threads here.”
“Threads?”
The ghost bobbed and stretched, becoming translucent in patches. His voice was almost inaudible with all the yelling around him. “Threads between paper and spirit.”
“Paper and spirit, sir?”
“Yes, little doctor. Remember.”
“Aye, I shall. Now would you mind returning to your tank, please? It seems you’re upsetting the locals.”
“Am I? Oh dear. How embarrassing.” He twirled around in the air, noticing the chaos, which flustered him further.
Arsenic had little contact with Formerly Floote but she got the impression that he had excelled, in life and in death, at being capable. To cause a fuss was an embarrassment.
Formerly Floote murmured, “Oh, I beg your pardon!” Then he wafted down through the deck, and was gone, presumably to the relative safety of his tank.
Silence fell.
Percy said, in that way he had of being inconveniently late with an explanation, “Ghosts are greatly feared in Japan. One of the reasons to have a floating city at all is that there are no spirits possible in the skies.”
“Oops,” said Rue, “guess we just proved that wrong.”
“The military representative is accusing The Spotted Custard of being cursed and demanding that we leave Edo as soon as Lord Ryuunosuke and his lady disembark. They are revoking our permission to dock. Anitra, would you take over, please? I wish to talk to the doctor.”
Anitra did in fact take over, interpreting as the military captain and Lord Ryuunosuke continued ranting.
Percy touched Arsenic’s arm. “What did he say?”
“Formerly Floote?”
“Yes.”
“He thinks it verra important that we ken there are threads in Edo between paper and spirit. Whatever that means.”
Percy frowned. “Threads?”
“Aye.”
“For a ghost. Could he mean tethers?”
Arsenic considered. “Or perhaps there are strands of aether coming down here into the city, and that’s what’s giving Tasherit issues.”
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