Imprudence (35 page)

They retreated there as soon as politeness allowed.

“Out with it.” Rue faced her demons as soon as they were alone in Prim's room.

“You've broken that boy's heart.” Primrose was getting rather dramatic, even for Aunt Ivy's daughter.

Rue let out a burst of surprised laughter.

Primrose was not amused. “Oh, stop it. What is really going on?”

Rue paused to examine her feelings. What
was
really going on? Finally she said, before she could stop herself, “I don't trust him not to break my heart.”

Primrose sat back with a whoosh noise, pensive and startled at the same time. She took a small breath and spoke slowly, choosing her words with care. “So you break his first? That's hardly sporting.”

“I didn't think his heart was something I had power over.”

“So are you doing this simply to prove that you can? I did think, from an outsider's perspective” – she blushed – “that you were good together. Was I wrong? Did something not work in, you know,
that
way?”

Rue considered Quesnel's mouth and hands, the smooth feel of one and the rough feel of the other. She considered his eyes, up close, violet twinkling. It had been a great deal of fun, his lessons. Was there something wrong with fun? She was usually in hot pursuit of adventurous pleasure in all other parts of her life.

“Quite the opposite.”

Primrose pressed.

“So you are in love with him?”

Rue shied away from that idea. It was utterly terrifying.

Later that evening, Rue unexpectedly encountered Anitra alone on the poop deck. She would have turned to leave the girl in peace but, at a welcoming gesture, joined her. They stood companionably chatting, looking out over the dark desert.

Pleasantries exchanged, Anitra said, quickly, as though getting something pent up out, “Captain, I wish to say something. I do hope you will not take it amiss.”

“Yes?”

“I wear no dowry coins.” She gestured across her forehead where the edge of her veil rested. “Nor do I wear anklets or bracelets.”

“I had not known to remark upon this absence but I do now.” Rue was a little confused but it was her business to be polite to a guest.

Anitra bit her lip. “Very well, then, I should… um… good evening.” With which she left.

“Well, that was odd,” said Rue to the night silence.

“What was?” Miss Sekhmet emerged abovedecks, looking fresh and chipper. They'd settled happily into their old immortal cycle where she joined them for supper after sunset and then took the night shift. They missed her company during the day, but it was healthier for her not to fight the nocturnal habits of several lifetimes.

“Miss Anitra just insisted on telling me that she wore no jewellery.”

Tasherit grinned. “She was informing you that she is not available for courting. Did you make a move in that direction?”

“Certainly not.” Rue thought of Ay and that fact that Anitra might perceive her as masculine. “At least, I don't
think
I did.”

The immoral nodded. “Ah, so. Then it is your jealousy when Quesnel pays her too close attention. She is trying to make clear her lack of intent.”

Rue drew herself up. “Pardon me!”

“No need to fluff up, child. If you do not wish your feelings known, hide them better. On this ship, the only one unaware of your interest in that mechanic is that mechanic. And possibly Mr Tunstell. But Mr Tunstell would remain unaware of a sand tick up his nose.” The werecat grinned at her own wit and returned to the point. “Anitra is merely informing you that she is not after your man. A female Drifter without dowry on display is not available.”

Rue was forced to accept that she had not been subtle. She would have to sort this mess out before others were drawn into it as well. It was most complicated, being the captain of a ship.

Of course Rue avoided both Quesnel and the mess for the next two days. Instead she dogged Floote, asking him about the past, when he let her. She soon realised that she was telling him more than he was telling her. She found herself reliving her peculiar upbringing with three parents and two households. She reminisced about the things those parents had taught her, which until he asked she'd forgotten. She told the more recent stories of the pack's rejection and about Queen Victoria's anger and Dama's concern over her majority. Rue began to suspect that Floote said so little because others found him easy to talk to.

At which point, they reached Khartoom. The city sat at the junction of the White Nile and the Blue Nile. This was rummy-looking from above; for leagues they could see the two rivers meet but stay parallel, not intermingling, the brown of the Blue Nile alongside the green of the White Nile. The city took her mechanical power from these waters. All along the banks, dozens of great watermills, or what looked like watermills, spun and whirled, casting droplets to the sky. Khartoom was a beautiful city, all lush green with spires of white. It was also decidedly unfriendly to both Drifter balloons and ladybug airships.

“Odd names for rivers neither white nor blue.” Rue chewed a bit of candied orange peel and stared down at the water.

Anitra smiled. “We don't question the ancients.”

“No? Why not?”

Several red handkerchiefs were waved at them from Ay's balloon. Anitra waved back, and as a group, the Drifters caught a breeze eastwards away from the city.

“They're abandoning us?” Rue tried not to sound forlorn.

“They'll meet us on the other side. We're less of a threat without their shadow. They'll keep a long-distance eye on us.”

“Khartoom looks calm enough.” Rue watched their escort drift away.

“It's been under siege at one time or another for as long as I can remember.” Anitra seemed to think that was explanation enough.

Rue swallowed her last bit of peel, looking with sudden suspicion at all the lush graceful peacefulness. “Who holds it now?”

“You didn't check with the council in Cairo before you set course?”

“Didn't know we were coming here, exactly.” Rue was put off by the accusation in her tone. And her own guilt. She should have thought to make enquiries. Then again, enquiries would have left a record.

“The Mahdists hold it, but they're stretched with forces out at Adwa. They took some of Khartoom's major defences with them to roust the Italians. It leaves Khartoom vulnerable, and nervous about it. I wouldn't go to ground if I were you.”

Rue slouched in dejection. “We may not have a choice.”

She put in a call to engineering, not sure if she was more reluctant to talk to Quesnel or Aggie. No choice—Aggie answered.

“Miss Phinkerlington, how are coal reserves?”

“Pants, Captain.”

“No need for vulgarity.”

A snort met that rebuke.

“How many days?”

“No days. Hours.”

Rue hung up the speaking tube, cursing herself for not putting a system in place that warned of low reserves.
I suppose if I were on speaking terms with my chief engineer and not bent on avoiding him for days at a time…

She returned to Anitra at the railing, glum. “No choice. We're dry. Will they even sell coal to us?”

“Can you be another nationality? Raise a flag and don a foreign tongue?”

Rue didn't think they had any other flags aboard. She was not devious enough to have thought of that ahead of time. To be British was, well, British. Why be anything else? That was the general British attitude. Although Rue was beginning to learn, the hard way, the ever expansion of their empire was not exactly welcomed by its recipients.

“What would be less threatening?”

Anitra ticked off on one hand. “French and Italian are all out. Canadians are allied with British, so they're no good either.”

Rue mentally ran through her and Primrose's collective wardrobes.

“American? We would only have to try an accent.”

Anitra considered. “Might work. Americans do like to play tourist and this ship is garish enough.”

Rue nodded. “I'll call a meeting.”

She sounded the duck horn, a resonating quack that was, quite frankly, ridiculous but shook the boards of
The
Spotted Custard
in such a way as to permeate the airship as far down as the boiler room. Three blasts everyone knew meant the officers were to meet. In very short order, Rue had Primrose, Quesnel, and Percy in the navigation pit. Anitra joined them. Rue decided it wasn't necessary to awaken Tasherit. They'd tell her later, if they survived until nightfall.

“We're desperate for fuel. I'm sorry it's got so bad. I should have asked engineering for an update sooner.” She figured she might as well own responsibility, although in future she'd put Quesnel and Aggie under orders to alert her the moment they had less than eight hours at maximum use. She was annoyed they hadn't alerted her and wouldn't put negligent sabotage past Aggie, but there was no point in calling Quesnel out in front of the others.

“So we must refuel here in Khartoom.”

Everyone's faces went a little white.

“Unfriendly city at the moment, so we are going in to moor under a different nationality.”

No one expected that.

“American.”

No one objected. There was no love lost between England and her former colony, particularly over the matter of supernaturals, but that made the Stars and Stripes a better cover.

Rue assumed her most captain-like air, attempting to sound cool and calm. “Primrose, you have that dark blue dress with the white dots; that'll do for the stars. Percy, I'm afraid we need your striped bathing costume. Cobbled together, those two will make for a passable flag. Primrose, Virgil's a valet; he likely has rudimentary sewing skills. Put him to work with a quick baste. Doesn't need to be hemmed or anything – only needs to withstand a glance through glassicals. Luckily we don't fly colours regularly, so there is nothing to take down that might already have been spotted.”

Primrose looked like she wanted to object to the conscription of her blue gown but nodded and left to do as she was bidden.

Percy looked dour but did not object. He had very little love of anything material that wasn't typed on paper. “Virgil will have to find me something else to swim in. He's not going to be happy. Made enough fuss about the stripy one.”

Rue didn't say anything but she was secretly pleased to hear Percy even slightly worried about the opinion of his valet. Every valet should keep his master a touch terrified of his good opinion.

“I want everyone on high alert, but say as little as possible. I don't think they'll speak much English or can differentiate accents if they do, but best to stay silent unless communication is vital. That includes you, Spoo.”

Spoo was, naturally, eavesdropping on the conference. Rue hadn't even bothered to look where. A disembodied voice said, “Yes, Lady Captain.”

Rue turned to Anitra. “Additional suggestions?”

“Speak cockney if you can. To those not fluent in your tongue, it sounds enough like American to pass. Grandfather taught me that.”

“Oh, I say!” said Percy.

“Percy,” said Rue, “
you
are not to speak at all.”

Percy's expression said he felt that silence was superior to cockney regardless.

“Will we be boarded? We haven't United States documents.” Quesnel spoke quietly. “I've got French but that's almost worse than British right now. Politically, I mean.”

Rue winced. “We must assume trade is more important than hostilities to the laymen. I do have gold. It should speak loudly enough to get us coal. As long as we choose the right vendor.”

She looked to Anitra, who nodded but still seemed worried.

“So let's hope we can bribe officials to look the other way, if they do try to check. Meanwhile, let's make ourselves look as innocent as possible. Two hours to nightfall. Recommendations?”