Imprudence (The Custard Protocol #2)(72)

Rue put down her teacup. “Easier to miss than to live with, I find. So, what is it you require of me?”

“Now you sound like your mother.” The old man settled back, stiff in posture but tired, gesturing for his granddaughter to take over the conversation.

She did so. “It is not so much that we wish something from you, Lady Prudence. Instead it is that we believe we may offer our services as interpreters. Plus, we understand you are being followed.”

Rue sat up. “How do you know that?”

Anitra inclined her head. “Goldenrod may not require me these days, but that does not mean I have lost my training. Grandfather likes to know what is going on, particularly where the supernatural is concerned.”

“So they are after Tasherit?”

“Who?” The old man’s tone could almost be qualified as interested.

So these two, who seemed to know much, did not know about Miss Sekhmet.

Anitra continued. “Or they are after you, skin-stalker. Or they are after something or someone else. They have been asking questions. They have been watching, preparing. Yet when they made their move, you were able to repel them. It is… impressive.”

“They were clumsy. So you do not know what they are after, but you do know who they are?”

Anitra cocked her head. “We have theories.”

Rue did not like obfuscation. “How do I know I can trust you?”

The old man reached into a fold of his sash belt and produced a folded bit of paper, yellowed with age. He handed it to her.

It looked like one of those privateer letters of marque and reprisal from centuries ago. Only this one was dated 1855. It turned out to be a writ of legal safeguard granted by the British government, to the bearer, over one Alexia Tarabotti.

“You really did know my mother well.”

He inclined his head.

“She never mentioned you.”

Something died in his eyes.

Yet, even as she said it, Rue remembered something from years ago. It was vague. They’d been talking about death for some reason. What had Mother said? “I’ve an old friend, in Egypt now so you’ll never meet him. Well, more like an estranged family member. He killed the wrong person. Oh, don’t look so shocked. I’ve killed a few people in my day. Your father’s killed hundreds, I shouldn’t wonder. Both your fathers. And then there was that time London caught fire. Occasionally, my dearest girl, one has to kill. Take my advice: choose wisely and be tidy about it.” At the time, Rue had been too shocked by all Lady Maccon’s talk of killing to think much on the random mention of an estranged friend in Egypt.

“You killed the wrong person.”

“So she did mention me.” His eyes flickered back to life.

Rue handed the man back his marque of guardianship. “Gave it up, did you? I imagine she’d be a hassle to keep safe.”

He gave a funny little smile. “She’s still alive, is she not?”

“Ah. Very well, welcome aboard.” Trust might be too much to require so soon, but with both the man and his granddaughter being friends of Quesnel’s – the one having tolerated her mother and the other her Dama – she would allow them to stay. It’d also give her the opportunity to satisfy her now wild curiosity.

Anitra brought them back to the present. “We do come bearing gifts. Or should I say reinforcements?” She gestured expansively with both hands.

Rue looked.

The sun was setting and up on the breezes of the cooling skies, balloons were rising all over the city. Patchwork balloons, small and nimble, old and well loved, brightly coloured and drifting together. Rue had never seen anything like it. They rose like champagne bubbles in a crystal glass, bobbing together.

“What?”

Anitra smiled broadly, easy and open. “We Drifters were thinking if you need to leave Cairo, it is better done under cover of airship than any other way. You, after all, have one of the brightest painted crafts I have ever seen. She will fit right in.”

Rue grinned back at her. “That she will.”





Anitra and her grandfather stayed aboard. Their balloon, which Anitra explained was more properly her family’s balloon, piloted by her older brother, Baddu, would join the others in escort service. The young man with Anitra’s eyes waved cheerfully after retrieving the net.

Spoo was the last to return from leave. “Apologies, Lady Captain. I’d no idea we were biffing off. No pyramids?”

“Sorry, Spoo, next time we’re in town.”

“That’s what they all say.”

“Spoo, my parents live here now. We will be back.”

Spoo brightened and ran to stash her market goodies and assume her post.

The Spotted Custard cast off her mooring rope and rose to join the Drifter balloons dotting the sky. It was difficult to count but Rue would have said near to a hundred or so were participating in the protective cover. Among the classic onion shapes she noticed a few almonds as well. One or two proper dirigibles had joined their party. None were as sleek as her pride and joy, but certainly they were more up to snuff than the standard Drifter fare.

“You’ve some corkers in the mix.”

Anitra nodded. “Grandfather’s. He likes to dabble in modern technology.”

The old man appeared to be slumbering in a deck chair, but Rue got the impression he was still paying attention to everything going on around him.