Imprudence (The Custard Protocol #2)(113)

Rue grabbed a spyglass to look in wonder at the amazing craft.

The upper deck – which had likely rested directly above water level, hidden by the trailing vines – was occupied by a pack of people. Strong-looking women in filmy draped gowns strode about manning the airship, Olympian goddesses acting the part of decklings. That must be the pride. There were others with them – Chosen Ones, Tasherit had called them – the werecat version of clavigers. The mortals who hitched their lives to the Daughters of Sekhmet, sink or fly. Rue spotted the fallen Drifter family helping to crew the massive airship.

Rue saw Tasherit, pacing the deck nearest to them, waiting for the opportunity to leap. Anitra was riding her. The Drifter girl had a long tube tucked under one arm. It stretched up to one of the massive balloons above, like a sipping straw.

“Percy, bring us about and nudge towards them. We have friends who want to return home. I think they bring a gift.”

From the crow’s nest, Rue heard the call. One of her decklings was still doing his duty – keeping eyes to the enemy and not focusing on the behemoth next to them.

“Hostile dirigibles are fleeing, Lady Captain. They don’t fancy going up against that beauty.”

Rue put down the glass. “I don’t blame them.” She couldn’t see any weapons on the werecat’s ship, but that didn’t mean there were none. Immortals were usually prepared for combat. Even her Dama, who mostly fought with words, was a dab hand with a war scythe when he was in the mood.

Rue moved to the forecastle to confirm. The enemy was indeed speeding away, puffing up as fast as possible, until they were mere specks. Eventually they blinked out, jumping into the aetherosphere and damn the consequences of uncharted currents.

Rue let out a low whistle. “Guess we now have prisoners rather than hostages in our stateroom.”

Percy held them steady as the cumbersome former island nudged in close.

Rue strode the length of her ship, across the main deck, avoiding the scampering decklings; those who weren’t transfixed by the monstrosity next to them were still clearing away crashed ornithopter guts.

Rue jumped up to the quarterdeck and from there to the poop deck, coming to stop next to Percy, Primrose, and the helm.

“They don’t have flapper rudders or propellers.” She handed Percy a spyglass but they were too close for him to really confirm her assessment.

Percy waved the looker away. “Big and unwieldy, I understand.”

“Bring us in as near as possible.”

Percy bit his lip, sweating slightly, but did as instructed.

Primrose flipped her glassicals up. “She can’t really be considering what I think she’s considering.” She looked to Rue for support.

Rue gave one of her maniacal grins. “Cats can jump pretty far.”

“That’s insane.” Prim let out a little shriek of awe and fear as Tasherit took a running start and then leapt with a gloriously amazing flex of muscles from the long low deck of that ancient watery craft to the new, if damaged, main deck of The Spotted Custard.

The lioness slid quite a bit on landing, almost skidding right over the opposite side, where the railing no longer existed due to crashing ornithopters.

Anitra, much to everyone’s amazement, managed to keep hold of the tube from the bigger ship, as well as her own seat on the werecat’s back. When Rue ran to meet them, however, it was less impressive. She’d been strapped on.

“Here.” Anitra handed Rue the tube. It was capped off and very light, seeming to want to float away.

Rue wrapped both arms around it lovingly. Helium!

“Helium,” Anitra explained unnecessarily, on a gasp of breath. She was drawn with fear, tear tracks still visible on her face, brown eyes wide with awe at her own daring. “They have plenty. Turns out they’ve been mining vast parts of Africa for years. Then hoarding the helium here.”

She untied herself while Rue issued orders to deckhands, and deckhands to decklings to get their squeaker straw hooked into the helium port above.

“Make certain those patches hold.” Rue wasn’t about to outgas such a precious resource again.

The crew hopped to with renewed energy. It had been a long night. Everyone was starting to flag a bit, but this was beyond exciting, and resources were resources.

While they refilled, Anitra explained that the Daughters of Sekhmet had been arguing about coming to their aid when the Drifters sought refuge. When Ay’s balloon bobbed down to collect them, a dialogue had ensued. The cats agreed to help, not for the sake of Rue and her crew, but for the sake of reuniting with the Drifters. “It’s a romantic notion, lost tribe, lost pride, returning to a nomad’s life. Leaving the lake for the desert. They are ready to rejoin the world, I think. Ay can be most persuasive. He didn’t become a leader solely through skill in trade.”

Miss Sekhmet grunted out a cat sound of disgust.

“Whether or not they are really ready for the world, they are excited to be part of a culture that reveres cats once more.”

Primrose raised both eyebrows nearly into her hat. “Those poor Drifters.”

Tasherit twitched her whiskers.

“Well, you do get rather superior, you shape-shifter types.” Primrose verbally twitched her whiskers right back. “Yes, I include you, Rue. I like the Drifters. They seem a decent sort.”

Anitra smiled. “I think my people will do fine. There will be growing pains, but watch this.”