Reticence

by Gail Carriger

  Spoo had overheard the doctor’s warning to the captain on the risks of form-shifting. But if the captain was disposed to ignore it, who was Spoo to gainsay? Lady Captain rarely listened to anyone. Quesnel was the only one who might stop her, and he was dealing with advanced boiler tilt. Also the Custard was struggling to stay the course, wobbling rather badly (possibly due to a ruddy big hole in her main deck). Their chief engineer must remain belowdecks.

  So the captain, Rod, the fox-lady, the scaly lord, and all seven of their Japanese prisoners (for ballast) were loaded into The Porcini. The lord insisted on climbing in last, and with good reason as it turned out. He must’ve weighed a great deal, because the dropsy immediately began to sink, no venting needed.

  “It’s going to be hard to steer, Lady Captain,” warned Spoo. “Porcini isn’t designed to be nimble.”

  “We’ll be all right, Spoo. You’ll look after things up here?”

  “Can’t do much worse than I already did, creating that huge hole and all.”

  “You got us free, Spoo. That’s what matters.”

  “Take care down there, Captain.”

  Miss Prim appeared. She thrust a rolled map at her friend. “Here, Rue, I circled Hakone but you can see it there.” She pointed southwest of the big city, along the coastline.

  “Once you get closer, you should be able to make out that it’s a mountain. That’s near where his hot springs are. Lord Ryuunosuke can guide you.”

  Miss Prim looked at the scaly lord.

  Rod had his hand firmly around the man’s exposed upper arm, inside the cut in the sleeve that Rod himself had made. But all the lord’s attention was on his lady, the expression in his hard eyes almost tender. Spoo wrinkled her nose. Adults were odd. Immortals were even odder.

  The fox-lady said, “We both know where it is. And I can speak your language well enough to get us there.”

  “Can you indeed?” Lady Captain gave her a quizzical look.

  Well, Spoo could have told her that.

  “I hope this works.” Miss Prim stood back.

  Spoo unhitched the dropsy from the Custard.

  Lady Captain looked hard at Miss Prim. “Come back for us?”

  “Never doubt it. I’ve been following in your wake my whole life, Rue dear. I’m not stopping now. Get the dropsy back up and we’ll nip down and scoop you in quick as may be. That’s assuming Quesnel doesn’t kill me when he finds out I let you go.”

  “Blame me.”

  “I will.”

  “He’ll fight you to come after me right away.”

  “I’m well aware.”

  Lady Captain looked at Spoo. “You tell Virgil that navigation is to obey Primrose, not Quesnel, got it?”

  “Aye, aye, Lady Captain.”

  Another barrage of artillery fire came at them, the black sleek dirigible was back in range and taking potshots.

  Spoo let loose the dropsy.

  Rodrigo pulled on the release line with his free hand. The Porcini sucked in the cold night air, weighing down against the helium reserves, and began to drop.

  “Not so much at once!” yelled Spoo.

  Too late, the dropsy plummeted, not quite falling, but faster than would feel comfortable.

  Miss Prim shared a look of exasperation with Spoo before leaving The Porcini to its own devices, and turning her attention to the Custard’s predicament.

  She began gesturing with her parasol and issuing orders. Perhaps not so autocratic as Lady Captain, but forceful and direct.

  “Spoo, get four decklings positioned for balloon repairs. We can’t afford to lose even the tiniest bit of helium to bullet fire. We’ve given everything we can spare to the dropsy. Have the rest of your people prepare to assist with speed and puffing. You know where best to place them.”

  Spoo did and went to do just that.

  Prim yelled at Virgil to take evasive action and puff them away from Edo and into the grey as quickly as possible. They would hide there, dropping out occasionally to check for The Porcini’s return. It would be work for Virgil, not to get caught in any currents and dragged away. They’d use a lot of fuel but having to run the boilers at capacity would keep Quesnel busy. Something to be grateful for.

  They needed to draw enemy fire away from The Porcini as much as possible in the interim.

  Which seemed to be working. There was only one enemy airship after them, and it didn’t divert to chase the dropsy. It couldn’t have missed seeing The Porcini descend, but it was sinking too fast for a large dirigible to easily follow. Also, there was a good chance the enemy ship thought it was a distraction and intentionally stayed focused on The Spotted Custard.

  The Custard, drawing fire all the while, made its way up towards the grey in jerky stages.

  The military dirigible followed them as close as may be.

  Never before had Spoo wanted to man a Gatling so badly. Looking down over the railing, she noted the dropsy was no more than a small speck, and yelled to Prim that they were clear.

  Virgil puffed them up and they hit the grey.

  The enemy ship didn’t follow.

  Numbing nothingness surrounded them and everything went quiet and still, except Virgil, still muscling the helm and muttering to himself.

  Everyone held their breath and waited for Quesnel to come up and yell at them.

  Spoo went hunting for the cute little dog mechanimal, hoping he was still somewhere on deck.

  Despite Arsenic’s fears, it was relatively easy to get to Hakone. Lady Manami informed them brusquely that yes, of course the temple train went there. Her tone of voice suggested she found it insulting to have it implied otherwise.

  Apparently, the Temple of Mercy train went to most of the major hot springs in Japan. Maybe it was part of the condition of being a temple train. Or perhaps hot springs were considered particularly merciful? Or it had something to do with dragons.

  Dragons, mind you. Arsenic shook her head in awe. The idea!

  Sometimes she found it terrifying to live in an age where science must grapple with mythology. Other times she found it glorious. Dragons fell into both. Perhaps it would’ve been better for them all if the monsters had stayed in the shadows. But such secrets would always out themselves, eventually.

  Nevertheless, dragons!

  Arsenic and Percy were still cooling their heels in the receiving room. Literally, since they’d not been given socks or slippers after tubbing. Guards occasionally walked by the open door, exchanging nods with Arsenic.

  Nice work if you can get it, she thought, watching them with interest. Not a bad job, she supposed, had she some other life to live. Presuming they allowed non-Japanese women to take the position. She liked the spear as a weapon. Not that she’d learned to use one, her mother was more about small sharp knives. Oddly tangential to life as a doctor, as it turned out. Arsenic’s scalpel technique had excelled from the start.

  She’d grown rather fond of the stoic temple guards. They were so fierce and sure of themselves.

  Percy napped while they wended their way around Tokyo, along the coast, and finally up the mountain. He possessed the magical ability to sleep anywhere, as needed. Arsenic envied him. She also suspected he’d enjoy a long and healthy life as a result.

  They made Hakone in good time and Percy awoke looking refreshed just as the train wheezed to a stop. They went to find a window and see what Hakone looked like.

  Hakone’s hot springs were entirely different from the ones they’d recently visited. Instead of tubs and sculpted grottos, the station was built outwards like a dock, over a beautiful lake with a truly stunning snow-topped mountain in the distance. “Mount Fuji,” explained Percy with a note of awe in his voice. Between them and the water were lovely arches and large pots filled with tiny trees forming pleasing vistas.

  The lake beyond steamed.

  “Shall we brave the entrance?” Percy offered her his arm.

  Arsenic took his hand instead, which was soft and strong in hers. His fingers were lo
ng and capable and surprisingly firm. Hand holding seemed to both startle and please the ridiculous man. She merely led him to the temple entrance facing away from the lake.

  This view was no less beautiful. Before them was a steep sulphurous mountain peak that had been sculpted by both man and nature into ledges. Each ledge was decorated differently with a tree or moss, a fern or small shrub, and a stunning bronze sculpture. But the bulk of each ledge was a rock-carved pool, presumably filled with hot water. Stone stairs cut into the mountainside connected them. It seemed idyllic.

  Arcing over them all, both part of the mountain and wrapped around it, was a vast hydraulic plumbing system. It coiled down along each side of the peak, flowing over the train tracks in elegant arches. It delved deep down into the lake, presumably drawing water away into aqueducts. It was clearly powered by advanced steam technology that took advantage of the volcanic heat of the location. They needed no actual boilers here, only the pumps and engines that could run off perennially boiling water – for the water was naturally boiled. It was ingenious. Arsenic wished, for one of the only times in her life, that she had a better understanding of engineering.

  Percy, who was apparently only shaken by things like hand holding, looked mildly interested.

  “Amazing, aye?” She nudged him.

  “It’s certainly very large.” He squeezed her hand.

  “I wonder how it works?”

  And Percy was off on some elaborate explanation as to probabilities, hydraulics, and temperature controls. As he talked, he got more excited. For Percy, appreciation would always involve comprehension. He would never be the type to immerse himself in wonder without understanding. She was lucky she found this appealing, and had already learned how to guide him towards joy.

  Arsenic smiled and half listened to him natter, while she absorbed the beauty of the technological marvel. No attempt was made to hide the pipes, instead they were glorified. The tubes were made of iridescent glass, so one could see the water moving inside. They shimmered. The metal supporting them was all curved and swirling, filled with swoops and organic shapes. Shining under the light of floating paper lanterns, filled with the same lighting technology that kept the Paper City aloft.

  Arsenic realized, without much surprise, that everything was formulated into artistic interpretations of serpents. She had seen much plumbing in her day and many a steam engine and boiler arrangement, but never had she seen them turned into art.

  She tilted her head and leaned back, trying to take in all of the peak with its ledges of hot springs as well as the massive tubes draped around it. She realized that, when seen from far enough away, it would look like two dragons wrapped about the mountain.

  Percy shifted so he could support her as she leaned. He did it naturally, as if he didn’t even realize he was inclined to be supportive. She nestled against him happily. He was still prattling on about the complex functionality of large-scale hydraulics.

  “I think the whole thing is designed to look like dragons,” she interrupted.

  He didn’t mind, of course. That was the thing about Percy, he merely wanted to convey as much information as possible because that was what he needed from the world, so he assumed everyone else needed it too. But he was never offended when she stopped him. He also knew he had a propensity to waffle and that sometimes convention dictated he stop. He might not understand why, but he had learned to accept it.

  “It must be beautiful from the air,” Arsenic mused.

  “It is indeed.” Lady Manami appeared like magic near her elbow.

  “My crewmates are in for a treat.” Arsenic gave her a friendly nod.

  “You do not doubt they will come for you?”

  “Nay.” Arsenic was confident.

  Lady Manami lowered her lashes. “One hour until moonrise, I can feel it in my bones.”

  “Are kitsune subject to moon sickness, like werewolves? Must we see you locked away?”

  “Not just yet, but soon. Even should I change accidentally, it matters not. I am fox, my instinct will be to run and to hide, not to fight or hunt humans. I can be vicious, but it is not my instinctive state, even under the influence of the moon.”

  “Interesting,” said Percy. “What other differences are there between kitsune and werewolves? Are you omnivorous?”

  “Indeed.”

  “And the conservation of mass? I’ve been formulating a theory on shifting density, is that what you do?”

  She looked at him out of bright eyes.

  Percy took that as agreement. “How much do you weigh, then?”

  “Percy!” said Arsenic.

  “What? Oh! My apologies. One doesn’t ask a lady her weight, does one? Silly that. Why not apply basic understanding to both the sexes equally? Especially in these days of dirigibles, when weight is of general concern. Where was I? Oh yes, Lady Manami, if you don’t object, I simply want to know if you weigh the same as a normal fox when you are a human, or the same as a normal human when you are a fox? Or do you split the difference, so to speak?”

  The lady in question seemed more amused by Percy than offended, thank heavens. She came all over furtive, in that way that supernatural creatures got when asked directly about their abilities. “I weigh more than a normal fox and less than a mortal woman.”

  “Remarkable,” said Percy and then, because he really never did learn, “Can I lift you up?”

  Arsenic poked him in the arm. “Percy! One dinna simply ask to lift up random females.”

  “One doesn’t? Oh, pardon me! But if she faints I can catch her, no? Isn’t that basically the same thing? Lady Manami, would you please faint for me?”

  Fortunately, Percy was saved from further blundering by the appearance of a small airship, falling more than floating, in their direction.

  “That is not The Spotted Custard. Is it for or against? And why that shape?” Arsenic gawked at the peculiar mushroom-shaped contraption with no propeller headed at them. It was more like an old-fashioned hot-air balloon.

  “That’s The Porcini, our dropsy. For escaping and whatnot. We stole it from a wheystation in Singapore. Or my sister did, after she made Tash dress like a fish.”

  “Please stop explaining, Percy. You’re only confusing matters.”

  “So I’ve been told. I do beg your pardon.”

  “All is well, m’eudail. I ken you mean a kindness. ’Tis only that we dinna always have time to learn everything all at once, sometimes you have to relay only the important bits.”

  Percy frowned, concentrating, and then said, clearly and distinctly, “That’s the airship that we use in emergencies or when we need to retrieve something but can’t risk the whole Custard. It’s called a dropsy. It’s always looked like a mushroom, which is why we named ours The Porcini. That’s an Italian mushroom. It’s probably carrying Rodrigo, the two shifters, and anyone else the Wallflower asked for.”

  “I didn’t ask for anyone else,” said the Wallflower, who had, of course, somehow appeared out of the shadows to one side of the temple door. Because where else would she be?

  The dropsy was moving a bit too fast and possibly out of control. But it managed to crash not into the lake, but down in front of them, narrowly missing one of the swirls of serpentine plumbing.

  Two of the temple guards pushed Percy and Arsenic aside and ran towards it, spears drawn.

  Lady Manami said, “We cannot step out of the temple. Look there?” She pointed to one side, just off the platform’s sacred ground. There waited a large group of wasp-dressed men.

  These soldiers were also focused on the dropsy.

  The temple guards got there first but the soldiers were mobilizing.

  Until something stopped all of them in their tracks.

  As expected, the dropsy contained Lady Sakura and Lord Ryuunosuke. Both of them were in human form, despite the proximity of moonrise and freedom from imprisonment.

  Because they had help.

  In Lord Ryuunosuke’s case, he was being gripped by Rodr
igo Tarabotti. The preternatural had skin-to-skin contact with the man’s upper arm. Even had he wanted to, Lord Ryuunosuke could not shift.

  Arsenic found this display of power impressive. To have biological control over another being, how remarkable from a medical perspective.

  But next to Lady Sakura? With its paws up on the edge of the dropsy basket was a fluffy red fox. A human-sized fluffy red fox.

  It was, frankly, startlingly huge.

  It took Arsenic only a moment to understand. Then she became both angry and distressed. That was Rue. That was a pregnant metanatural Rue, shifted into an enormous Japanese fox. Because, why not?

  There were a thousand reasons why not!

  Arsenic resisted the urge to run to her. It wouldn’t do any good. Honestly, being a medical practitioner would be a whole lot simpler without ruddy patients!

  Fortunately, the presence of an enormous fox in the basket of a mushroom-shaped airship seemed to arrest everyone.

  The temple guards, sufficiently awed to be in the company of what could only be an engorged fox-spirit god, had each taken a knee, spears planted and heads bowed. The wasp military men fell back. They didn’t bow, but they also didn’t attack.

  It was all too much.

  Lady Manami gave a tinkling laugh. “Oh dear, your flesh thief has miscalculated.”

  “’Tis worse than that, she could miscarry.”

  “She is with child?” Lady Manami’s lovely face registered fleeting surprise. “Human father?”

  Arsenic nodded.

  “Interesting.”

  “Aye.”

  “You have concerns?”

  “I do.”

  “You’re worried about the impact of form-shifting on a baby inside?”

  “Aye.”

  “You should be. I know of only one incident of a shifter female carrying a human child and she stayed human the entire time.”

  “How?”

  “What do you think started the God-Breaker Plague?”

  Percy said, without inflection, “Alessandro Tarabotti. At least, that’s the rumour.”

  “Ah, no. He resurrected lost knowledge, and figured out how to extend it. But before him, there was them. Three of them – the lioness, the vampire, and the fangxiangshi.”