“Miss Sekhmet is taking us to the Source of the Nile. We are at her disposal in order to fix his mistake.” Rue gestured at Percy.
Quesnel blanched. “The source is in contested lands. Is that wise?”
“Probably not,” Percy muttered.
Rue glared at him.
Quesnel remained focused on Rue. “Why there? What’s happened? What has he done?”
“Why don’t you try living for a while without all the necessary information? See how pleasant it feels, chérie.” Rue was not above revenge.
Quesnel gave her a little bow. “Yes, Lady Captain.” With which he twirled and marched from the room.
“Oh, Rue! His face. Did you have to be so mean?”
Rue glared at Primrose. “He should have given Percy that darn byline! We’d never be in this mess.”
“Thank you, Rue,” said Percy.
“Don’t start,” Rue shot back. “And he should have told me about the ghost holder from the beginning. Who, exactly, does he think is going to die?”
“But he’s awfully fond of you,” defended Prim.
“He’s awfully fond of withholding information. And he’s awfully fond of my enthusiasm under the duvet.”
“Rue!” Primrose was appalled.
Percy stood abruptly and marched from the room.
Primrose took control of her shock. “I think you malign Quesnel’s character.”
“Which of us has been kissing him lately?”
“Exactly why you’re in no condition to properly assess his intentions.”
Rue was past caring. “I’m small, round, outrageous, and – as I just explained – possibly not legally a human being. What makes you think that man takes anything seriously, least of all me?”
Prim took a breath. “Wouldn’t you like to be taken seriously?”
“Oh, Prim. You’re such a romantic.”
Prim frowned. “I believe you’re rendering a disservice both to your worth and his attentions.”
Poor old Prim – she always wants to see the world in the best possible way.
“Primrose, I just drank barley water for you. For the moment could you leave off my entanglement, such as it is?”
Primrose nodded. “I’ll say no more on the subject.”
“But?”
“I’m worried about you, Rue. You’re isolated.”
“I’m on a ship full of people, you chump.”
Prim shook her head, annoyed with her own inability to articulate. “You’ve lost your family. Well, left them all behind.”
“To be fair, some of them left me.”
“Exactly my point. I don’t like you feeling so… abandoned.”
Rue couldn’t deny that. Even Dama had left her to her own devices. And I was so glib with him about gaining my majority, so glad to be free. I did not realise what else the world would take away as well as his guardianship – my pack, my parents. “It’s not so bad, Prim. They’re all still alive, further away but alive, and less mine than they once were. Isn’t that growing up?”
“Well, if it is, it’s pretty darn awful for you. Excuse my language.” Her dearest friend pushed on, embarrassed but determined. “I only mean to say, we’re still here for you, Percy and I.”
Rue tilted her head, suspicious.
“Fine, me more than Percy. But we’re twins enough for me to speak for both of us. It’s just… We are also your family. You do realise that?”
Rue came over a little teary and said what Primrose couldn’t quite muster. “I love you, too.”
The presence of Anitra and her grandfather at supper mitigated any possible emotional outbursts into tense small talk. Rue never thought she’d have reason to be grateful for polite niceties, but at that meal she certainly was.
Quesnel was at his flirtatious best; perhaps his eyes twinkled less than normal but his words were even more than commonly facetious. Anitra enjoyed his attentions. And why shouldn’t she?
Both visitors were curious to meet Miss Sekhmet, who sat in glorious dignity nibbling a kipper. Anitra was almost reverential when speaking to the werecat. Tasherit took this as her due. Primrose took this as offensive. Mr Panettone was more an observer than participant. Something about sitting at the supper table unnerved him. Rue treated him as gently as she could but was happy for his sake when he excused himself early for bed.
“Please forgive Grandfather. He isn’t well.”
“Oh, I am sorry!” Rue had noticed real affection between the two, even if they were not actually blood related. Being adopted herself, she understood entirely.
“It’s mostly age, I think.”
Everyone was grateful when the pudding course was served and the party could disperse. In the old days, Rue and her friends would have taken to the upper deck for drinks and cigars, but in this instance they all took to their rooms.
Rue was entirely unsurprised when Quesnel did not come to her chamber that evening. She forced herself to drink more barley water and cried into the glass. Tears, as it turned out, didn’t improve the taste in the slightest.
THIRTEEN
In Which Rue Learns About Antiquity
Next morning found The Spotted Custard floating some distance south of Cairo following the course of the Nile towards Luxor. Ill-rested and sandy-eyed, Rue donned a set of advanced ocular magnification lenses and took a closer look at the flock of balloons surrounding them in the morning light. Most of the airships were similar to Anitra’s, small and family-run with a tendency towards comfortable well-tended shabbiness. The four dirigibles were more modern, of fine workmanship and able floating, although certainly nothing on her Custard. Whatever Mr Panettone did, he made good money doing it. Unless, of course, his wealth was inherited. Rue put the lenses down. He didn’t act like a nobleman.
Quesnel blanched. “The source is in contested lands. Is that wise?”
“Probably not,” Percy muttered.
Rue glared at him.
Quesnel remained focused on Rue. “Why there? What’s happened? What has he done?”
“Why don’t you try living for a while without all the necessary information? See how pleasant it feels, chérie.” Rue was not above revenge.
Quesnel gave her a little bow. “Yes, Lady Captain.” With which he twirled and marched from the room.
“Oh, Rue! His face. Did you have to be so mean?”
Rue glared at Primrose. “He should have given Percy that darn byline! We’d never be in this mess.”
“Thank you, Rue,” said Percy.
“Don’t start,” Rue shot back. “And he should have told me about the ghost holder from the beginning. Who, exactly, does he think is going to die?”
“But he’s awfully fond of you,” defended Prim.
“He’s awfully fond of withholding information. And he’s awfully fond of my enthusiasm under the duvet.”
“Rue!” Primrose was appalled.
Percy stood abruptly and marched from the room.
Primrose took control of her shock. “I think you malign Quesnel’s character.”
“Which of us has been kissing him lately?”
“Exactly why you’re in no condition to properly assess his intentions.”
Rue was past caring. “I’m small, round, outrageous, and – as I just explained – possibly not legally a human being. What makes you think that man takes anything seriously, least of all me?”
Prim took a breath. “Wouldn’t you like to be taken seriously?”
“Oh, Prim. You’re such a romantic.”
Prim frowned. “I believe you’re rendering a disservice both to your worth and his attentions.”
Poor old Prim – she always wants to see the world in the best possible way.
“Primrose, I just drank barley water for you. For the moment could you leave off my entanglement, such as it is?”
Primrose nodded. “I’ll say no more on the subject.”
“But?”
“I’m worried about you, Rue. You’re isolated.”
“I’m on a ship full of people, you chump.”
Prim shook her head, annoyed with her own inability to articulate. “You’ve lost your family. Well, left them all behind.”
“To be fair, some of them left me.”
“Exactly my point. I don’t like you feeling so… abandoned.”
Rue couldn’t deny that. Even Dama had left her to her own devices. And I was so glib with him about gaining my majority, so glad to be free. I did not realise what else the world would take away as well as his guardianship – my pack, my parents. “It’s not so bad, Prim. They’re all still alive, further away but alive, and less mine than they once were. Isn’t that growing up?”
“Well, if it is, it’s pretty darn awful for you. Excuse my language.” Her dearest friend pushed on, embarrassed but determined. “I only mean to say, we’re still here for you, Percy and I.”
Rue tilted her head, suspicious.
“Fine, me more than Percy. But we’re twins enough for me to speak for both of us. It’s just… We are also your family. You do realise that?”
Rue came over a little teary and said what Primrose couldn’t quite muster. “I love you, too.”
The presence of Anitra and her grandfather at supper mitigated any possible emotional outbursts into tense small talk. Rue never thought she’d have reason to be grateful for polite niceties, but at that meal she certainly was.
Quesnel was at his flirtatious best; perhaps his eyes twinkled less than normal but his words were even more than commonly facetious. Anitra enjoyed his attentions. And why shouldn’t she?
Both visitors were curious to meet Miss Sekhmet, who sat in glorious dignity nibbling a kipper. Anitra was almost reverential when speaking to the werecat. Tasherit took this as her due. Primrose took this as offensive. Mr Panettone was more an observer than participant. Something about sitting at the supper table unnerved him. Rue treated him as gently as she could but was happy for his sake when he excused himself early for bed.
“Please forgive Grandfather. He isn’t well.”
“Oh, I am sorry!” Rue had noticed real affection between the two, even if they were not actually blood related. Being adopted herself, she understood entirely.
“It’s mostly age, I think.”
Everyone was grateful when the pudding course was served and the party could disperse. In the old days, Rue and her friends would have taken to the upper deck for drinks and cigars, but in this instance they all took to their rooms.
Rue was entirely unsurprised when Quesnel did not come to her chamber that evening. She forced herself to drink more barley water and cried into the glass. Tears, as it turned out, didn’t improve the taste in the slightest.
THIRTEEN
In Which Rue Learns About Antiquity
Next morning found The Spotted Custard floating some distance south of Cairo following the course of the Nile towards Luxor. Ill-rested and sandy-eyed, Rue donned a set of advanced ocular magnification lenses and took a closer look at the flock of balloons surrounding them in the morning light. Most of the airships were similar to Anitra’s, small and family-run with a tendency towards comfortable well-tended shabbiness. The four dirigibles were more modern, of fine workmanship and able floating, although certainly nothing on her Custard. Whatever Mr Panettone did, he made good money doing it. Unless, of course, his wealth was inherited. Rue put the lenses down. He didn’t act like a nobleman.
