Reticence

by Gail Carriger

  “Tumble out of a dirigible?” She sat back on her heels, giving his leg a critical once-over. “A girl learns odd things when her mother is an assassin. Surely you’ve some strange skill or another connected to your mother being a vampire?”

  “A healthy disregard for hats.”

  “Percy, you’re quite diverting when you wish to be.”

  Regrettably, they were back to Percy. M’eudail had been abandoned.

  Percy was sad. “It’s the pain, throws me off. Are you injured at all? The parasol jerked you about when it deployed.”

  “A little bruised at the shoulders and I dinna think I’ll be hungry anytime soon, since the belt bit into my waist, but no serious damage. Thank you for asking.”

  Percy nodded, taking her at her word. “What do we do now?” He was no man of action to seize the moment as an excuse to make ill-informed decisions.

  Arsenic pursed her lips. “I dinna think we’ll get verra far. There’s na to make a crutch of.”

  Percy looked around. It was dark, the rainbow lights of the Paper City far above were faint. They hadn’t landed in the middle of Tokyo but well outside of it. They were sitting in a field of grain – a damp tallish grasslike crop. Rice paddy, Percy supposed.

  “We should stay here?”

  Arsenic’s eyes were bright on him, reflecting what little light there was in an eerie manner. “We both read the warnings in the travel guides. The people may na be xenophobic but the government certainly is. Outside contact is restricted to the Paper City, and foreigners found on Japanese soil without permission are imprisoned or killed.”

  “But we fell by accident.”

  “I hardly see how that will matter to the local militia. And if we’re found by anyone else we canna predict the reaction. Hopefully, Rue will come up with a means to extract us, but until then I suggest we make for the city.” She pointed towards the soft yellow light some distance away. Percy was terribly disorientated and never very good with directions at the best of times, odd in a navigator (although he was excellent at reading charts). However, given his general sense of the water, he thought that they were northeast of Tokyo.

  Percy was, by upbringing and inclination, inclined to let ladies lead where matters of adventure were concerned (and this was definitely one of those unfortunate adventure situations). If Arsenic wanted to relocate, he would relocate.

  He hoisted himself to his feet. His trousers gave an ominous ripping sound. A light breeze in places where breezes ought not to go indicated that his posterior was now on display to the Japanese countryside. I shall make a most excellent impression.

  “Oh dear,” said Arsenic.

  Percy sighed, took his jacket off (it was ruined anyway), and tied it about his waist by the sleeves.

  “I wouldna have minded,” said Arsenic, under her breath. “Felix culpa.”

  Percy, pleased, gave her an arch look. “That is not a part of my anatomy I generally feel needs an airing.”

  “How about a private viewing?” Arsenic shot back and then covered her mouth with her free hand as though it had spoken without her consent.

  Percy sputtered. That was bold to say the least – serious flirting. He supposed they were on more intimate terms than they had been a mere fifteen minutes prior. They’d only recently been wrapped in an embrace, admittedly a hazardous one, but still… One might say that Arsenic knew the exact cut of his trousers. He supposed it was only one step removed from wishing to peruse the territory beneath. If he were lucky.

  She lowered her lashes. “Too much?”

  Percy shook his head, grateful for the night as he was certain his cheeks were crimson. “Perhaps when we aren’t in a dangerous and unknown country having fallen out of a dirigible?”

  “You can think of a better time?”

  “Well, yes, at any point in the last month.”

  “You would have dropped your trousers for me shortly after my interview, then?”

  She’d clearly discovered boldness. She also got more Scottish when she flirted.

  He adored it.

  She helped him to stand and slid herself under his arm. They began a shuffling hobble towards the far-off city. Well, he hobbled, she walked like a normal human.

  “Absolutely,” he said. “I might have been surprised, but I assure you I’m well educated.”

  “What does that have to do with it?”

  “I’m no idiot, not to recognize a good thing when she shows interest in bits of my anatomy.” He paused. “In a non-medicinal way, of course.”

  She laughed. A small hand reached down and patted him. Over the jacket, more was the pity.

  Percy decided that was more than enough of something that couldn’t be pursued just yet. Given the ephemeral state of his trousers, one didn’t wish to encourage undue movement in that area, sadly.

  Besides, he had questions. “How did you end up wearing a parachute?”

  “Lady Sakura insisted. I wonder if she knew this would happen.”

  “So far as I’m aware, supernatural abilities do not include precognition.”

  “I dinna mean that. I mean, I wonder if she thought it likely someone would push me off an airship.”

  “It was me who got pushed.”

  “True, but to be frank, Percy, I’m surprised it hasna happened afore.”

  “Me too. I don’t mean to be so obnoxious.”

  “’Tis one of your more endearing qualities.”

  “You’re the first to think so.”

  She hummed. “Materially mitigated by the fine cut of your jib and a bonnie pair of eyes, and the fact that you mostly talk sense, even if you explain overmuch afore you get there.”

  Percy suspected that was a compliment. “Uh, thank you?”

  She continued. “Also, I ken you have a good heart. ’Tis thoroughly hidden, but ’tis good.”

  “For pity’s sake, don’t tell anyone. My reputation will be in ruins.”

  Without turning to look at him, she smiled. “You should court me, Professor.”

  “From the look of things, you’re hell-bent on courting me. Quite well, I must add. The direct approach is best for someone with my condition.”

  “Your condition?”

  “Uh, socially rummy and easily bewildered by females.”

  “On the contrary, I ken you understand women verra well. You’ve simply never bothered to apply your understanding.”

  Percy narrowed his eyes. She was awfully perceptive. “So you, erm, want courting? What kind? I hardly know how.”

  “A little effort, please.”

  He stumbled and then coughed out a laugh. She was playing with him. “You think I’m lazy?”

  “I think you’ve had it quite easy, m’eudail. Aye.”

  That particular application of m’eudail was condescending, but he still preferred it to anything else, coming from her. He noticed a bit of plant matter caught in her braid and removed it gently. Her hair was knotted from their fall but silky soft.

  Percy considered as they trekked along in silence. How to court a doctor and an intellectual? Arsenic was a practical female who probably saw him as quite frivolous. She clearly liked the way he looked, but Percy didn’t know how to flirt using that, so perhaps conversation was best? They had a firm grounding in that after all their afternoons spent in his library. How to start without a book?

  He coughed, not sure if they were trying for stealth in the quiet night. It seemed they had not only the rice paddy but the whole world to themselves. It was difficult not to squelch as they walked. Perhaps idle conversation was permitted?

  “Tell me about your family. Are you close to your father?” He asked, of course, because Arsenic’s feelings towards her father, and her parents’ relationship, might give him insight into her expectations on such matters.

  Arsenic knew exactly what he was getting at. She laughed. “A good first effort, shall I tell you how they met?”

  Percy, pleased with himself, nodded and said, “Please?”

>   “It was on a train platform…”

  Spoo watched from the main deck as the two missing Japanese soldiers returned, floating between them a massive clamp supported by a balloon. It looked like the kind of clamp used to lock together two pieces of wood – a big C-shape of metal with a screw part to tighten. Only this one was made to winch shut with a windlass. It was massive and lodged over the rail of the Custard and onto the deck flange, next to the starboard Gatling. The other part fit around the dock, bolting the airship to the city.

  Once the clamp was secured and locked, the soldiers retied the weight-relief balloon to the dock, not the clamp.

  Spoo was impressed despite herself. The lock looked near impossible to cut though, melt, or pick. Sure The Spotted Custard might rip free, but if it did the clamp would come along without its balloon, and it no doubt weighed enough to tilt an airship and render it unsafe for floating.

  The Japanese soldiers bowed in a modest way to Lady Captain and Miss Prim and then left down the gangplank.

  Miss Prim came bustling over with Anitra and the fishy lordling in her wake. “I’ll take our guests to quarters. The sun will be up soon.”

  Aggie hoisted her crossbow, giving the fishy lordling one last glare, before swaggering off to Frenchie to see if he had any instructions for the boilers.

  Miss Prim said to Spoo, “You’re to pull in the gangplank and post guards at the clamp. It connects us to the city and presumably someone dexterous could climb aboard using it, if they really wanted, to try to free our hostages.”

  “Rather spiffy, to have hostages.” Spoo frowned. “This our first time?”

  Miss Prim said, “It worries me that you had to ask that.”

  “Where you stashing them?”

  “Supposedly they are staying by choice, so guest quarters.”

  “You might wanna see if old Tash will wake up, sniff at ’em some. This one speaks the Queen’s.” Spoo let the tiny lady go.

  The fox-lady stumbled slightly, and the fishy lordling scooped her up in his arms, like a child. His face softened when he looked down at her.

  Footnote appeared abovedecks. Tensions had relaxed enough for the cat to be interested. (Cats were sensitive to such things, they didn’t always care, but they did know.) Yet there were still enough people to give him due attention.

  Footnote swaggered around, tail crooked, sniffing feet. He didn’t notice, or mind, that his master had fallen overboard. Spoo had made swift friends with the cat from the start, through judicious application of dried salt cod and the occasional kipper. She’d done this as a means to needle Virgil, to ensure that Percy’s cat liked her best.

  So when he spotted Spoo, Footnote trotted over, whiskers twitching.

  Then he caught a whiff of something, probably the fox-lady. Spoo didn’t know how cats felt about foxes. She assumed that any affection professed by the lady was entirely one-sided. As was often the case with cats.

  Footnote went bottlebrush, hissed in a mighty way, and made for the mast and up it to the crow’s nest, where he no doubt cowered. Nips would have to pacify him with nibbles. Nips also kept dried fish about to bribe cats. He was all right in the noggin, was Nips.

  Spoo supposed Footnote might have reacted to the fishy lord. If Footnote hated him, fishy was a bad moniker. Spoo supposed she should call him the scaly lord instead.

  Miss Prim took Footnote’s disgust in stride. “Percy would say that’s a bad sign. He trusts Footnote’s character assessment.” She turned baleful eyes on their guests. “Then again, I suppose you pushed Percy overboard, Lord Ryuunosuke, so perhaps Footnote is spot on?”

  “She’s a fox-lady, you know, a kissy-something,” Spoo explained, in case they didn’t know.

  Miss Prim nodded in that superior way of hers. “Yes, we learned this. And important to Edo, for some reason. And this man is her husband, or guardian, or something like that.”

  “Not husband,” said the fox-lady. “And it is kitsune, if you please. I do not go around calling your werewolves wolf-lords, do I?”

  “They’d probably enjoy it if you did,” grumped Spoo.

  “Kitsune is the proper name. And names have power. So use them with care, child of the skies.”

  Spoo waggled her eyebrows. “Do they really?” She wasn’t sure about being called child, but she thought of the skies was rather grand. “What kind of power does Spoo have?”

  “The ability to annoy everyone,” replied Miss Prim. “Now go pull in the plank, do. I’m taking our guests belowdecks.”

  “Hostages, not guests,” crowed Spoo as she scampered off. I have taken my first hostage. She was pleased with herself.

  Miss Prim’s sigh followed her.

  Percy thought Arsenic had a nice childhood. Her parents’ initial courtship notwithstanding and her mother’s profession to one side, she’d grown up in the Scottish countryside under idyllic circumstances. It seemed, from her descriptions, that her father was warm and doting, and her mother a little cold, but practical and helpful. He almost envied her.

  He contributed some bits and bobs concerning his own childhood, but he was ill equipped to convey what it was like to grow up inside a hive, surrounded by adults all overly vested in his safety and education at the expense of his autonomy and wishes. The fact that he’d become withdrawn and insular was no surprise to Percy. He’d few examples of affection to call upon. Aunt Alexia and Lord Maccon being the singular exception. Their marriage, to his outside eye, had always been combative but never lacking warmth. Percy could admit to himself, if not to Arsenic, that he was attracted by their model of a profound and loving relationship, if perhaps hoping for a little less rushing about and banging of heads together.

  To be honest, he liked what he and Arsenic had begun aboard ship. Quiet evenings reading. Perhaps his imagination could stretch to more than one cat? Perhaps to not going to sleep alone. Perhaps those evenings might include a bit more touching and kisses and such. He wasn’t a complicated man. He didn’t think this desire far-fetched. But it might seem tame to a lady of Arsenic’s upbringing.

  So he didn’t mention it, merely prodded her for insight into her family, her sisters, her life. Hoping he might better understand her wishes and compare them to his own. He was not above modifying his hopes in order to accommodate hers. After all, he’d once imagined himself a solitary Oxford don, lording his intellect over rooms of terrified students, and retiring alone to his dusty quarters. That future had moved location to The Spotted Custard, where he still lorded his intellect and retired alone, but perhaps the alone part might be reformed?

  They were many hours plodding (in Percy’s case limping) in the direction of the city, mostly through fields until they came upon train tracks. These were a promising indicator of civilization, so they followed them as best they could.

  They made a positive wreck of the paddies, clearly indicating their path, not to mention the huge sprawling flop of the parachute. Percy could understand the urgency to keep moving, to get to a place where they might hide, but they were terribly exposed in the interim.

  As the horizon began to pinken, Percy found himself exhausted. They’d fallen quiet. Arsenic’s posture was more bent than when they started. He tried not to lean upon her too much but his ankle seemed to have become one massive throb of agony.

  They began to see small signs of human life.

  Steam puffed into the sky ahead of them, marking the outskirts of Tokyo. A train station and possibly a village of some kind were just ahead of them. Structures at least.

  “What do we do? Do we approach?”

  Arsenic bit her lip. “Your guess is as good as mine. We need food. You need clothing. And if we could find a safe place to sleep for a bit, that’d be beneficial.”

  A huff-puffing noise rent the early morning air.

  They froze.

  Percy glanced behind them to see an engine chugging towards them.

  They shifted off the track and kept walking. It wasn’t like a train would stop for them. It was
unlikely to be military, going so slowly and at such a time of day. Freight, probably. Surely the engines of industry were the same in any country?

  If the train paused at the station ahead of them, they might be able to catch it there. If they wanted to stow away.

  “Should we hop it?” He was nervous, that seemed a very athletic endeavour.

  “If it is low enough to hoist on to? Then aye, we should. You canna keep walking on that ankle. If we lie flat to the top, we might na be noticed before we get to the city. ’Tis a risk, but the best option we have.”

  Percy pushed himself to move faster, queasy from the pain.

  The engine chugged by him. It was a brightly painted particularly attractive version of most steam engines of Percy’s acquaintance (Quesnel no doubt would’ve had more to say on the subject). Percy could see instantly why it wasn’t in a hurry. It wasn’t a passenger train. It also wasn’t freight or cargo or anything one might expect. It was something else entirely.

  Something he’d never seen before.

  And he’d seen a train in the sky shaped like an elephant.

  “Is that a temple?” Arsenic’s big pansy eyes were even bigger in awe.

  Percy nodded. “It certainly looks like. Do you remember the sketches in those travel journals?”

  Arsenic nodded. “A temple on tracks. I suppose that’s a little like those roving tent revivals in America. It makes odd sense.”

  Percy thought it quite practical, actually. Why not take the gods out and about, as it were? That way everyone got a chance to visit them. The reverse of a pilgrimage.

  “I wonder whose temple it is?”

  Arsenic was more focused. “If worshipers are expected, it means the train might pause awhile at that platform. Perhaps we can climb on.” She was looking at the temple roof. It was that curly pagoda style, quite steep and slippery and difficult to stay on top of when in motion.

  Percy got distracted by the architecture. It really looked like someone had uprooted a temple and put it onto tracks, with little concession made to the fact that it was a train car and not an actual building. Although the structure was longer and narrower than he supposed one might expect of a stationary temple.