Imprudence (The Custard Protocol #2)(73)

“Sound investments.” The airships were backlit by the setting sun, so Rue could make out little else but their silhouettes.

Together the flock of airships drifted up the Nile, southwards, high enough to spot the great pyramids far to the right – Spoo waved as if they were old friends – and then moved on into the nomad’s land of river, sand, and stone.





Rue left her new passengers – one napping, the other making fast friends with the loquacious Spoo. Spoo was delighted to explain the workings of the Custard to an interested Anitra. Rue was suspicious of such interest, but Anitra did carry Dama’s seal of approval. And it wasn’t as though they weren’t surrounded by hundreds of her people. In for the boil, might as well steam. Plus they did need an interpreter.

With Mother gone, Rue declined to change for supper. Primrose might be upset since they had guests – Oh dear, I had better tell her we have guests – but Rue couldn’t be bothered. She sent a message to Prim warning her of their new passengers and wandered off to the dining room in hopes of finding the beginnings of food.

Instead, she found the beginnings of an academic. Or the endings of one.

Percy was still in a bit of a state, whether it was guilt or arrogance it was hard to tell, as he’d hidden all but a nervous eye twitch under his customary persona of first water prig.

“Percy, how’s the research going?”

“Not great.”

“Tasherit will not be pleased to hear that.” Primrose joined the conversation, entering the room carrying a tray of barley water.

Percy blanched. “Don’t tell her, please? I’ve recently escaped. She’s pacing my library. Traumatising poor old Footnote.”

Since Footnote was currently sprawled in one of the dining chairs licking his white chest fur in a most untraumatised manner, Rue raised both eyebrows.

Percy continued defensively. “I’ve only just started. That treaty, the one you made with the weremonkeys, it assigned them legal status, as people.”

“There was precedent; the local Rakshasa had already been granted rights.” Rue took a seat.

Primrose distributed the barley water. “Drink up; it’s good for you in this heat. I’m beginning to understand why Queen Victoria was so angry with you, Rue. You made it so they couldn’t be exploited. Bold move.”

Rue sipped the cloudy drink and made a face. “I wish I were that noble and full of foresight. I didn’t do it intentionally, although I would do it all over again. The empire is a yearning maw of exploitation, Prim. You didn’t know?”

“Miss Sekhmet is clearly a person!”

Rue drained her cup, to get it over with. “By whose definition? She lives for ever. She changes shape. She looks like a goddess, not a human.”

“That’s horrible! How can you even think such a thing?”

Percy sipped his barley water with evident enjoyment. Either the boy had no taste or he was delighted to see his sister’s ire turned on Rue for a change.

Rue covered the top of her empty glass to forestall refills. “It’s not what I think, Prim. It’s the way the law acts.”

“But that’s awful.”

“My dearest friend, how do you think I’m classified?”

Primrose put a hand to her mouth, eyes wide. “I never thought. Are you…?? I don’t even know how to ask the question.”

Percy was intrigued despite himself.

Rue gave a little laugh. “Last I checked I was a national asset with permitted autonomy, not necessarily a British citizen with all the privileges thereof. There’s some question, Dama said, of me even being considered human. And now my mother is no longer muhjah, and I just upset Her Royal Majesty with weremonkeys. Even with Dama on my side, who knows how the Crown might try to control me. Powerful creatures are dangerous. The government doesn’t like dangerous.”

A tap came on the stateroom door. Quesnel stuck his blond head in, hat off, face freshly washed. “You asked to see me?”

Primrose rose to leave. “Come along, Percy.”

“Stay, please.” Rue’s voice was harsher than she intended.

Prim reluctantly sank back down, looking like she would rather be anywhere else.

Percy looked smug. Well, smugger than usual.

“Come in, Quesnel, sit.”

Quesnel came in, but he did not sit; he leaned back against one wall, attempting to look unperturbed.

“I understand you have a ghost holder in my… hold.”

“She told you, did she?”

“I would have rather it came from you.”

“Family matters.”

“I hope your family will understand that, as captain of this ship, I wish to know if that device is patented and registered.”

Quesnel blinked at her. This was taking a turn he hadn’t expected. “Of course.”

Rue sighed. “I wish you had, at the very least, said that much. These attacks, I thought they were after that bally tank of yours.”

Quesnel shook his head. “Goodness no. I imagine they’ll be up for sale on Bond Street soon, with Woolsey Hive’s backing. Last I heard, Mother was entertaining the possibility of mass production. I see no reason for technological espionage. I shall be a rich man, in the end. Will you still love me then, my cold beauty?”