Etiquette & Espionage (Finishing School, #1)(21)

“A direct attack? I hardly think that likely, whot?”

“Nevertheless, best warn the engine chamber. Have them wake up all the sooties.”

“Of course.” The professor straightened the shoulders of his fine-cut tails, touched the brim of his top hat at the two ladies, and was off. Instead of going down, as Sophronia assumed one would in order to contact an engine room, he did the most extraordinary thing. He ran up the beam to the pilot’s bubble. He did it with perfect balance and complete fearlessness, despite the wind and the ground far below. He did it so quickly, like a spider, that Sophronia wondered if she’d really seen it at all.

“Can he teach me to do that?” she asked Lady Linette.

“I’m afraid not, dear. That is a skill that has taken him more time to master than you have.”

That only caused Sophronia to look militant. I wager he was in the circus. But there was no time to argue, for the professor had already returned. His attention was distracted by a group of six airdinghies heading purposefully in their direction.

Lady Linette said, “Best to sound the alarm.”

Professor Braithwope nodded and did his rapid scuttle over to a small brass box affixed to a railing. He opened this with a key from his waistcoat pocket, reached inside, and toggled something. A loud bell began clanging—a bell that seemed to have sister bells throughout the ship.

Lady Linette said, “When you hear that in future, Miss Temminnick, it means deck access is restricted and all students are to remain stationary and not involve themselves.”

Sophronia didn’t say anything in response to that. In all her fourteen long years, she had never stayed stationary and uninvolved in anything. Nevertheless, she did end up following her new teacher’s orders this once, for the squeak deck became suddenly covered in mechanicals. Sophronia was hard put to find a spot safe from being bumped.

In a synchronized movement, the mechanicals all settled back onto their rear wheels, locking down to the deck with a clunk, and altered themselves. Like the porter at the boy’s school, these had open hatches in their chests, only much bigger ones, so that their whole upper torsos were sliding back. Each hatch ejected the barrel of what appeared to be a small cannon. Then, in one smooth motion, they all swiveled and pointed their little cannons at… Professor Braithwope. Goodness, thought Sophronia, what did he do that was so bad?

“Soldier mechanicals?” asked Sophronia of the air. At which juncture she noticed that the professor had a tiny crossbow in his hands. The bow was armed but pointing harmlessly down at the deck.

“Wait for it, Professor. We are an institution of high learning and higher manners. We simply cannot shoot first; it ihro first;sn’t done. Now, remember that, Miss Temminnick, do—a lady never shoots first. She asks questions, then she shoots.”

“Yes, Lady Linette, I’ll remember,” said Sophronia, riveted.

The fleet of airdinghies was now near enough for Sophronia to make out figures in the carrier baskets. They were dressed as their compatriots had been earlier that day, in goggles and riding outfits. There was one odd man out, however. In the airdinghy farthest to the left. Standing at the back, in the manner of an usher at the theater, was a gentleman. Sophronia couldn’t make out his features, but he was dressed in black with a stovepipe hat. His cravat was green, as was the band about his top hat. Despite his upper-crust dress, he remained in the background.

“Why aren’t you firing, Professor Braithwope?” A French-accented and imperious question came from Sophronia’s right. Professor Lefoux appeared out of a nearby hatch, all angles and disapproval.

“No just cause,” explained Lady Linette.

“But those are criminals out there. Flywaymen. We need no other cause.”

“Patience, Beatrice. We must understand what they want of us.”

“We know what they want! They want the prototype!”

“Did you get the location out of Monique?”

“No, she’s closed-lipped, that one. Some of our lessons she learned well.”

“So?”

“So I punted her down to debut status. We shall see if the boredom of relearning everything with the new girls loosens her tongue.” Sophronia did not like the sound of that. It meant Monique would be in all her classes!

One of the flywaymen hoisted something to the edge of his dinghy.

Professor Braithwope tensed and pointed the crossbow toward the activity.

“Not yet,” said Lady Linette.

The flywaymen’s object made a loud sput and fired. A white mass hurtled toward them and landed with a splat against the side of the deck near Professor Braithwope.

The professor began to cough and fan the front of his face frantically while backing away at the same time. He was wheezing and his eyes were tearing up.

The ladies, however, did not seem to feel any ill effects. Professor Lefoux approached and bent over to examine the white substance.

“Garlic mash,” she said, without emotion.

“That’s simply petty!” said Lady Linette. “Are you handling the exposure well enough, Professor?”

He sneezed at her.

Professor Lefoux occupied herself with kicking the mashed garlic into a pile and then covering it over with a handkerchief.

Through his wheezing, Professor Braithwope said, “Now can I target them?” His tiny crossbow was up. All the while, the mechanicals’ little cannons remained trained on him. The mechanicals, at least, considered him the greatest threat. Must be the mustache, thought Sophronia.