“I’m sure the bastard will recover. His sort always do,” I said, wishing I could punch him in the face again.
“Unfortunately, that’s true. That Moghul ship worries me, though. No one knows where it has gone to.”
“You said this ship could outrun it,” I said, not liking the faint line of worry between her brows.
“And so we can. I would simply feel better if I knew where it was.”
“Ah.”
She leaned into me, warm and soft, and so wonderful, it made my heart swell. It made other parts swell, as well, but I was getting used to wanting to pounce on her every time I saw her. I contented myself with just holding her close to me, breathing in her heady scent, and wondering how soon I could reasonably introduce the idea of going back to her cabin. Since we’d just left her bed an hour ago, I figured I’d give her another half hour to recover before I broached the subject.
“And lastly, I was thinking about what’s in store for us.”
“I love how you think the same way I do,” I said, cupping her breasts. “Why don’t we go back to your cabin, and I can tie you down and have my wicked way with your fair, soft, deliciously responsive body.”
She turned a dusky pink, delighting me once again. “But we just got done. . . . Jack, you really do say the most inappropriate things. Someone could overhear us. Sounds echo quite well down these passages, not to mention the fact that it’s wholly inappropriate for a chief officer to mention having his way, wicked or not, with his captain.”
“I’m your first and only mate, my love,” I said, taking her in my arms in my very best impression of a pirate. “Chief officers are for the Aerocorps. What we are, my adorable little squab, are pirates. Nonlethal, but still very manly and tough pirates. And you are our pirate captain.”
“I still don’t feel right about that,” she said, squirming slightly when I spread my hands across her chest and stroked her breasts beneath the soft linen of her blouse. “I would have been fine with you being captain, you know.”
“I don’t know anything about flying an airship, and you do. Besides, I’m secure enough to let my girlfriend have a superior position, especially when it involves riding me like a sweaty mule.”
“Sweaty mule?” Her eyes brightened. “Is that something new you haven’t told me about? I wonder if it’s in the pamphlet.”
“It is—they just don’t call it sweaty mule. But I have a few ideas on things we can do to go above and beyond your precious pamphlet. Yeah? What is it?”
I released Octavia and turned when the gangly Aldous Christian approached. “I thought you would like to know that we’ve crossed over into France, sir, and to ask for coordinates for the navigation machine. The rest of the crew is interested to know where you and the captain think we should go.”
I turned back to Octavia. She was biting her delectable pink lip, looking slightly frustrated. I leaned down and whispered, “You told him he could be navigator when I took over his job. Let him prove himself.”
She sighed. “I know. It’s just that he’ll make such a muck out of the autonavigator. He always has.”
“He wants to learn. Just give him a chance.”
She nodded and raised her voice, giving the young man a list of numbers. “I thought we would go to North Africa.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” he answered, saluting awkwardly before grinning at me, and rushing off to deal with the odd machine used to pilot the airship.
“What’s in North Africa?” I asked her.
She gave me a long look out of those sloe eyes. “Someone I’d like you to meet.”
“Not another lover?” I asked, pretending to be shocked.
She hit me on the arm. “No. The man who raised me.”
I frowned and poked around in my memory. “Robert Anstruther? The famed captain? I thought you said he died?”
“I did.” Her gaze was steady on mine.
I smiled. “It’s like that, is it?”
“I’m afraid so. There are some secrets that are not mine to tell, Jack. I hope you can understand that.”
“I can.” I took her in my arms and captured her sweet breath. “So long as I have you.”
“You have me,” she answered, gently pushing back a bit of my hair off my forehead. “You had me from the first moment you started talking the most incomprehensible gibberish.”
“If you left our world as a small child, I guess it would have been incomprehensible to you,” I allowed. “When I think of the stuff you’ve missed . . . it’s a shame.”
“I’ve learned to celebrate rather than regret,” she said, leaning in and nibbling on my lower lip. “I had wonderful foster parents who loved me and taught me as best they could. I have good friends who would risk their lives for me. And most of all, I have you.”
“Now you’re getting all sappy on me,” I teased. “It’s a good thing Hallie is off embracing her inner pirate and learning how to shoot those damned guns, or she’d be all over you for that.”
Her brown eyes sparkled as she pushed back, reaching into the pocket on her skirt. “That reminds me, I have something for you. Something to celebrate your new position as first mate.”
“An eye patch? A hook? Please tell me it’s not a huge wig of dreadlocks? I don’t know how Johnny Depp stood wearing one.”
She frowned for a moment.
“Never mind, it’s not important,” I said.
“Why would I want you to wear a wig? . . .” She shook her head. “Hold out your hands.”
I did so, gazing in delight at the object she deposited there.
“I had it engraved with your name, and since you
named the ship we took from the Black Hand, I had the engraver put that on, as well. I’m sorry that the last few letters are a bit squashed. I think he ran out of room.”
On my hands lay a beautiful specimen, black leather, oiled and rich, brass highly polished, the light from the gas jet glittering brightly off the round glass lenses. Over one lens my name was inscribed; the other bore the word Enterprise.
“I hope you like them. I don’t in the least understand your fascination with goggles, but I decided that you should have a pair worthy of a . . .” She narrowed her eyes in concentration. “Steampunk pirate.”
“Airship pirate,” I corrected her, setting the goggles down so I could thank her properly.
“First and only mate,” she added, melting in my arms.
Glossary
aether: The material that binds everything together on a molecular level. Can be extracted and converted to energy.
Akbar: Crown prince of the Moghul empire, Akbar is the only surviving son of Aurangzeb III. Akbar leads the Moghul army in its attempt to capture new territories, and is acknowledged to be one of the best fighters of the time.
Anstruther, Robert, Captain: Held the post of captain in the Southampton Aerocorps. He was the husband of Jane, and foster father to Octavia Pye, having accepted her as his charge when she was six years old. He and his wife died in a tragic airship explosion, although their bodies were never identified.
Aurangzeb III: Imperator (emperor) of the Moghuls, and father to Prince Akbar. Aurangzeb had four wives, three of whom are deceased. He has one son and seven daughters.
Black Hand, the: The name of the revolutionary group bent on breaking William’s empire, most particularly Prussia’s inclusion in it. The Black Hand is led by Etienne Briel, who operates primarily in England, Italy, and Prussia.
bosun: Abbreviated version of the word “boatswain.” A bosun’s typical duties include inspecting the vessel, dealing with cargo, and maintaining structures not covered by engineering.
Briel, Etienne: Leader of the Black Hand revolutionary group. He is of French and Prussian ancestry, and holds a degree in architecture.
chief officer: A second-in-command, the chief officer on the Tesla is responsible for navigation, assisting other officers as needed, and attending to such duties as the captain commands.
Constanza
, Duchess of Prussia: The hereditary ruler of Prussia, Constanza is eight years the junior of her fiancé, William VI. She is considered a witch because she bears six fingers on her left hand.
Disruptor: The name of the weapons carried by Southampton Aerocorps members; they fire blasts of molten aether rather than bullets.
emperor: Male sovereign who rules over more than one nation. William VI rules over the United Kingdom (consisting of England, Scotland, and Ireland) as well as Prussia.
engineer: Maintains and monitors the machinery on the vessel. On the Tesla, this includes the propellers, engines, weapons, and boilers.
HIMA: His Imperial Majesty’s Airship, a prefix for all ships flown on imperial business, including those leased to the Southampton Aerocorps.
Iago, king of Italy: Constanza’s first cousin, and childhood friend. Iago rules the kingdom of Italy, which is sorely beset upon by the Moghuls. He went to Oxford with William VI, and considers the English emperor one of his closest friends.
imperator: Another name for an emperor or supreme ruler. The Moghuls refer to their leaders using this term.
Marseilles: Port on the southern French coast, known for its particularly tough inhabitants, and the wide popularity of its bordellos.
Moghuls: Persianates who originally dominated the Indian subcontinent; now the Moghul empire stretches across parts of Russia and Eastern Europe, encompassing India, Kazakhstan, Ukraine, Romania, Bulgaria, Serbia, and Croatia. Battles for Turkey, Bulgaria, Greece, and Italy are ongoing.
Prussia: Originally part of the German empire, the historic state of Prussia was formed when in 1626 Prince Otto, the Margrave of Brandenburg, married Jocaste, the only child of Frederick, Duke of Prussia. Their son, William (Wilhelm) inherited both the duchy and the margravate, combining them into the state of Prussia. William’s grandson, another Otto, married the eldest daughter of King James V. Their son, William III, brought Prussia into the British empire, where it has remained to the present date.
Rome: City in the southern part of Italy, capital of the Italian kingdom, and home to Iago. William VI maintains troops in the city as part of the defense against Moghul attacks.
Southampton Aerocorps: Private company that provides both passenger services and contracted military work for the emperor. Ships owned outright by the Aerocorps do not bear the designation HIMA.
steward: Responsible for the maintenance of the habitation areas of the vessel, such as the galley, mess, and crew quarters.
thuggee: The name commonly given to a cult of murderers and thieves known in parts of India.
watches: In naval tradition, the twenty-four-hour day was divided into seven watches, two of which, first and second dogwatches, are frequently combined into just one, since each dogwatch is only two hours long.
Bells were rung every half hour, allowing seamen to know what time it was. The table below translates watches and bells to a twenty-four-hour clock:
Read on for a look at
Katie MacAlister’s next novel
LOVE IN THE TIME OF DRAGONS
A Novel of the Light Dragons
Available in May 2010 from Signet
“You’re going to be on your knees saying prayers for hours if Lady Alice finds you here.”
I jumped at the low, gravelly voice, but my heart stopped beating quite so rapidly when I saw who had discovered me. “By the rood, Ulric! You almost scared the humors right out of my belly!”
“Aye, I’ve no doubt I did,” the old man replied, leaning on a battered hoe. “Due to your guilty conscience, I’m thinking. Aren’t you supposed to be in the solar with the other women?”
I patted the earth around the early-blooming rose that I had cleared of weeds, and snorted in a delicate, ladylike way. “I was excused.”
“Oh, you were, were you? And for what? Not to leave off your sewing and leeching and all those other things Lady Alice tries to teach you.”
I got to my feet, dusting the dirt off my knees and hands, looking down my nose at the smaller man, doing my best to intimidate him even though I knew it wouldn’t do any good. Ulric had known me since I was a wee babe puling in her swaddling clothes. “And what business is it of yours, good sir?”
He grinned, his teeth black and broken. “You can come over the lady right enough, when you like. Now, what I’m wanting to know is whether you have your mother’s leave to be here in the garden, or if you’re supposed to be up learning the proper way to be a lady.”
I kicked at a molehill. “I was excused . . . to use the privy. You know how bad they are—I needed fresh air to recover from the experience.”
“You had enough, judging by the weeding you’ve done. Get yourself back to the solar with the other women before your mother has my hide for letting you stay out here.”
“I . . . er . . . can’t.”
“And why can’t you?” he asked, clearly suspicious.
I cleared my throat and tried to adopt an expression that did not contain one morsel of guilt. “There was an . . . incident.”
“Oh, aye?” The expression of suspicion deepened. “What sort of an incident?”
“Nothing serious. Nothing of importance.” I plucked a dead leaf from a rosebush. “Nothing of my doing, which you quite obviously believe, a fact that I find most insulting.”
“What sort of an incident?” he repeated, ignoring my protests of innocence and outrage.
I threw away the dried leaf and sighed. “It’s Lady Susan.”
“What have you done to your mother’s cousin now?”
“Nothing! I just happened to make up some spiderwort tea, and mayhap I did leave it in the solar next to her chair, along with a mug and a small pot of honey, but how was I to know she’d drink all of it? Besides, I thought everyone knew that spiderwort root tea unplugs your bowels something fierce.”
Ulric stared at me as if it was my bowels that had run free and wild before him.
“Her screams from the privy were so loud, Mother said I might be excused for a bit while she sought one of Papa’s guards to break down the privy door, because her ladies were worried that Lady Susan had fallen in and was stuck in the chute.”
Ulric’s look turned to one of unadulterated horror.
“I just hope she looks on the positive side of the whole experience,” I added, tamping down the molehill with the toe of my shoe.
“God’s blood, you’re an unnatural child. What positive side is there to spewing out your guts while stuck in the privy?”
I gave him a lofty look. “Lady Susan always had horrible wind. It was worse than the smell from the jakes! The spiderwort tea should clear her out. By rights, she should thank me.”
Ulric cast his gaze skyward and muttered something under his breath.
“Besides, I can’t go inside now. Mother said for me to stay out of her way because she is too busy getting ready for whoever it is who’s visiting Father.”
That wasn’t entirely true—my mother had actually snapped at me to get out from underfoot and do something helpful other than offer suggestions on how to break down the privy door, and what could be more helpful than tending the garden? The whole keep was gearing up for a visit from some important guest, and I would not want the garden to shame her.
“Get ye gone,” Ulric said, shooing me out of the garden. “Else I’ll tell your mother how you’ve spent the last few hours rather than tending to your proper chores. If you’re a good lass, perhaps I’ll help you with those roses later.”
I smiled, feeling as artless as a girl of seventeen could feel, and dashed out of the haven that was the garden and along the dark overhang that led into the upper bailey. It was a glorious almost-summer morning, and my father’s serfs were going about their daily tasks with less complaint than was normal. I stopped by the stable to check on the latest batch of kittens, picking out a pretty black-and-white one that I would beg my mother to let me keep, and was just on the way to the kitchen to see if I couldn’t wheedle some bread and cheese from the cooks
when the dull thud of several horses’ hooves caught my attention.
I stood in the kitchen door and watched as a group of four men rode into the bailey, all armed for battle.
“Ysolde! What are you doing here? Why aren’t you up in the solar tending to Lady Susan? Mother was looking for you.” Margaret, my older sister, emerged from the depths of the kitchen to scold me.
“Did they get her out of the privy, then?” I asked in all innocence. Or what I hoped passed for it.
“Aye.” Her eyes narrowed on me. “It was odd, the door being stuck shut that way. Almost as if someone had done something to it.”
I made my eyes as round as they would go, and threw in a few blinks for good measure. “Poor, poor Lady Susan. Trapped in the privy with her bowels running amok. Think you she’s been cursed?”
“Aye, and I know by what. Or rather, whom.” She was clearly about to shift into a lecture when movement in the bailey caught her eye. She glanced outside the doorway, and quickly pulled me backward, into the dimness of the kitchen. “You know better than to stand about when Father has visitors.”
“Who is it?” I asked, looking around her as she peered out at the visitors.
“An important mage.” She held a plucked goose to her chest as she watched the men. “That must be him, in the black.”
All of the men were armed, their swords and mail glinting brightly in the sun, but only one did not wear a helm. He dismounted, lifting his hand in greeting as my father hurried down the steps of the keep.
“He doesn’t look like any mage I’ve ever seen,” I told her, taking in the man’s easy movements under what must be at least fifty pounds of armor. “He looks more like a warlord. Look, he’s got braids in his hair, just like that Scot who came to see Father a few years ago. What do you think he wants?”