As if agreed upon ahead of time, Tasherit reached in, pulled out Rue’s petticoat, and slipped it on. She pulled it up and tied it across her chest, leaving her lower legs bare but otherwise establishing some modesty. She immediately began striding around barking orders. Since these were basically the orders Rue would have given, Rue left her to it. Tasherit had been running drills with the deck crew for months. They were accustomed to obeying her in matters of defence. Rue supposed she’d have to formalise the arrangement – if they survived this journey and Miss Sekhmet stayed aboard.
Percy hauled on one of his nobs and the propeller kicked in. The Spotted Custard put on a burst of speed. He puffed them up twice in rapid succession. The Custard farted with the exertion but it got them away. A two-man ornithopter with a good pilot could match a dirigible for speed and lateral course correction but hadn’t much vertical manoeuvrability.
Tasherit noticed this fact and ordered two more puffs. That put them quite high, not yet in the aetherosphere but close. Everyone’s ears were popping. Judging themselves mostly out of danger and giving the decklings and deckhands strict instructions to stay on the alert and fire on anything that closed in on them, Tasherit turned to Rue.
“Should we go into aether cover? I’m assuming they can’t follow us there. You’ll lose me to sleep, and you’ll be mortal again.”
“No!” yelled Percy. “It’s uncharted, could be an immediate twister or worse.”
Rue shook her head as well.
“Right, hold course into the desert. Let’s find our missing escort,” Tasherit acknowledged.
Rue took a breath and padded over to where Quesnel lay. She sniffed at him, whiskers twitching at the smell of blood, thick and coppery. Rue was lucky she wasn’t a true werecreature. The scent did make her hungry but it did not make her crazy. She tried a tentative touch with one paw. He was still warm. Her throat rumbled. He’s alive! She nosed against his good side, trying for the scent of oil and smoke that always permeated his skin.
She stretched out next to him, for he must be in shock and she was warm in cat form.
Tasherit, judging them safe enough for the time being, came over as well.
“Condition?” she asked Anitra.
“Gunshot to the back, upper right near the shoulder blade. I think it’s missed the important stuff. Through and through, thank goodness, out the front here.” She pointed.
Rue winced. That had been her favourite place to rest her head.
Anitra continued. “Bleeding’s slowed. No sucking sounds. He’s unconscious. Blood loss or shock or both.”
“Suggestions? Healing mortals is not my area of expertise.” Tasherit gave a smile that looked more like a grimace.
“We need it clean. Hard alcohol, the stronger the better. Grain if you’ve got it.”
Tasherit took off.
Anitra evaluated Rue the lioness, her long furry form stretched along the length of Quesnel’s body. Anitra had loosened his cravat and unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirtwaist. It exposed him to the cool night air, but they needed to see to his wounds. “Um, Miss Prudence?”
Rue lifted her head.
“Amazing. I mean, I’d heard of your particular skills from Grandfather, but I never thought to see… Where is Grandfather? He would be useful right now.”
Rue realised that Anitra couldn’t go anywhere. She was holding pressure to Quesnel’s wound, one hand under his back, the other on his front.
“If you could stay in cat form and keep him warm? Soon, however, it would be better to have you able to issue orders.”
Rue nodded.
The missing Floote appeared. He looked older and shakier than ever.
Anitra’s face relaxed into profound relief. Until that moment, Rue hadn’t realised how frightened the girl was.
“Granddaughter. You are doing well. Hold steady. Is that the werecat or our captain?”
“That’s the captain. She was shot, too. Fortunately, Lady Prudence has a quick way of healing. I’ve asked for strong alcohol to clean the wound. What else?”
Tasherit reappeared with a bottle of Percy’s best cognac.
“Good enough.” Floote took it. “Now, Lady Sekhmet, we need linen bandages. If none are available, a clean silk shawl. Lighter colour. Ask Miss Primrose. And blankets, we need to keep him warm.”
Tasherit dashed off again.
Several of the decklings appeared with their own blankets at that juncture, the ones they stored about the decks and used in their hammocks. Floote piled them over Quesnel’s lower body and arms. They were not very clean, but it was a kind gesture.
Tasherit reappeared with Primrose in tow. Prim had her arms full of linen bandages. Rue had no idea Prim stocked the shipboard medicine cabinet that thoroughly, but she shouldn’t be surprised. Primrose did tend to think of everything.
Prim fell to her knees next to Quesnel’s body with no care for her lovely dress. In times of great stress, Prim was one of the better elements. She instantly began unfolding the bandages. She was weeping copiously, although it did not affect her efficient handling of the necessities.
Floote grabbed a strip, wadded it up, doused it in cognac, and handed it to Anitra. She used this to swab the back of Quesnel’s wound, the side they could not see.
“I’ve iodine as well.” Prim produced a small bottle of the stuff.
“Alcohol first,” said Floote. “Iodine once it’s clean.”
“Should we roll him onto his side?” Anitra wondered.
Percy hauled on one of his nobs and the propeller kicked in. The Spotted Custard put on a burst of speed. He puffed them up twice in rapid succession. The Custard farted with the exertion but it got them away. A two-man ornithopter with a good pilot could match a dirigible for speed and lateral course correction but hadn’t much vertical manoeuvrability.
Tasherit noticed this fact and ordered two more puffs. That put them quite high, not yet in the aetherosphere but close. Everyone’s ears were popping. Judging themselves mostly out of danger and giving the decklings and deckhands strict instructions to stay on the alert and fire on anything that closed in on them, Tasherit turned to Rue.
“Should we go into aether cover? I’m assuming they can’t follow us there. You’ll lose me to sleep, and you’ll be mortal again.”
“No!” yelled Percy. “It’s uncharted, could be an immediate twister or worse.”
Rue shook her head as well.
“Right, hold course into the desert. Let’s find our missing escort,” Tasherit acknowledged.
Rue took a breath and padded over to where Quesnel lay. She sniffed at him, whiskers twitching at the smell of blood, thick and coppery. Rue was lucky she wasn’t a true werecreature. The scent did make her hungry but it did not make her crazy. She tried a tentative touch with one paw. He was still warm. Her throat rumbled. He’s alive! She nosed against his good side, trying for the scent of oil and smoke that always permeated his skin.
She stretched out next to him, for he must be in shock and she was warm in cat form.
Tasherit, judging them safe enough for the time being, came over as well.
“Condition?” she asked Anitra.
“Gunshot to the back, upper right near the shoulder blade. I think it’s missed the important stuff. Through and through, thank goodness, out the front here.” She pointed.
Rue winced. That had been her favourite place to rest her head.
Anitra continued. “Bleeding’s slowed. No sucking sounds. He’s unconscious. Blood loss or shock or both.”
“Suggestions? Healing mortals is not my area of expertise.” Tasherit gave a smile that looked more like a grimace.
“We need it clean. Hard alcohol, the stronger the better. Grain if you’ve got it.”
Tasherit took off.
Anitra evaluated Rue the lioness, her long furry form stretched along the length of Quesnel’s body. Anitra had loosened his cravat and unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirtwaist. It exposed him to the cool night air, but they needed to see to his wounds. “Um, Miss Prudence?”
Rue lifted her head.
“Amazing. I mean, I’d heard of your particular skills from Grandfather, but I never thought to see… Where is Grandfather? He would be useful right now.”
Rue realised that Anitra couldn’t go anywhere. She was holding pressure to Quesnel’s wound, one hand under his back, the other on his front.
“If you could stay in cat form and keep him warm? Soon, however, it would be better to have you able to issue orders.”
Rue nodded.
The missing Floote appeared. He looked older and shakier than ever.
Anitra’s face relaxed into profound relief. Until that moment, Rue hadn’t realised how frightened the girl was.
“Granddaughter. You are doing well. Hold steady. Is that the werecat or our captain?”
“That’s the captain. She was shot, too. Fortunately, Lady Prudence has a quick way of healing. I’ve asked for strong alcohol to clean the wound. What else?”
Tasherit reappeared with a bottle of Percy’s best cognac.
“Good enough.” Floote took it. “Now, Lady Sekhmet, we need linen bandages. If none are available, a clean silk shawl. Lighter colour. Ask Miss Primrose. And blankets, we need to keep him warm.”
Tasherit dashed off again.
Several of the decklings appeared with their own blankets at that juncture, the ones they stored about the decks and used in their hammocks. Floote piled them over Quesnel’s lower body and arms. They were not very clean, but it was a kind gesture.
Tasherit reappeared with Primrose in tow. Prim had her arms full of linen bandages. Rue had no idea Prim stocked the shipboard medicine cabinet that thoroughly, but she shouldn’t be surprised. Primrose did tend to think of everything.
Prim fell to her knees next to Quesnel’s body with no care for her lovely dress. In times of great stress, Prim was one of the better elements. She instantly began unfolding the bandages. She was weeping copiously, although it did not affect her efficient handling of the necessities.
Floote grabbed a strip, wadded it up, doused it in cognac, and handed it to Anitra. She used this to swab the back of Quesnel’s wound, the side they could not see.
“I’ve iodine as well.” Prim produced a small bottle of the stuff.
“Alcohol first,” said Floote. “Iodine once it’s clean.”
“Should we roll him onto his side?” Anitra wondered.
