Rebel Magisters (Rebel Mechanics #2)(77)

“I don’t know how long it will last, but it should buy us some time,” I whispered.

Henry and I left the cell, and I paused to gently push the door closed. My colleague eyed Henry up and down. “You’re too tall, so you’ll have to do something about that,” she said. “Push the dustbin.”

He crouched, bending his knees beneath the loose skirt, and stooped his shoulders over the dustbin as we headed for the exit. The cleaning woman knocked on the doorframe of the guard’s office. “We’re done out here. Need me to sweep up in there?”

“Just empty the rubbish,” he said.

While she emptied a small waste can, he walked toward the exit to unlock it. The guard waited while we trooped out before locking up behind us and returning to his office.

I wanted to hold my breath the whole way back to the laundry room, but I knew that wouldn’t decrease our chances of being detected, and if I passed out, we would be noticed. Now we were really in trouble if we were caught, and I doubted we’d get another chance to rescue Henry if this attempt failed.

One shift of cleaners and laundresses was getting ready to leave when we arrived in the laundry room, and the scullery maids were arriving for the morning. Henry and I blended into the group shuffling out at the end of their shift. His slouched, crouched posture fit in well with the weary women leaving after a hard night’s work, though his head still stood above most of us.

I found myself holding my breath again as we approached the fort’s gate. This was perhaps the last dangerous point of our escape attempt. If the guard there noticed anything odd, we were doomed. If the guard in the cell block noticed Henry’s absence before we were through the gate, the gates would likely be closed on us.

We were so close. Twenty more feet. Ten. Then we were walking past the guard. “Good morning, ladies!” he called out. I tensed, waiting for him to tell us to stop. “There’s been rioting all night, so it’s not safe for you to go home your usual ways. We’ve got buses to take you away from here.”

I forced myself not to look at Henry in dismay. We were more likely to be spotted on a bus, and we might still be under their supervision when Henry’s disappearance was noticed. Where would they take us? But I was afraid we didn’t have any choice but to get on a bus.

Henry and I found a seat together, with him closest to the window. He sat with his head down and his shoulders slouched. I tried to look like I was tired rather than tense, but all I could think about was that we were getting farther and farther away from where we were supposed to meet Henry’s friends.

I wanted to cry out for joy when the bus stopped a few blocks away to let off some of the women. Henry and I joined them. We moved slowly, letting both the bus and the other women get out of sight before we headed west. In a dark, narrow side street, Henry paused to pull off the dress and kerchief. “I think I’m more noticeable dressed like that than as myself,” he said, “and I’m not sure how much longer I can walk so stooped over.”

“You really made a terrible woman,” I agreed, “but I didn’t have time to come up with a better plan.”

“It was a brilliant plan. It worked, didn’t it?”

“We’re not safe yet, and we’re running late and in the wrong place to meet our transportation.”

“Airship?”

“Not yet. Your friends are supposed to be coming back from a yachting excursion. Now we’ll have to backtrack to meet them.”

“I’d rather not go back toward the fort, if you don’t mind.” He shuddered, and I had to wonder what had happened to him while he was imprisoned.

The streets weren’t entirely deserted, as people were coming home from late shifts and leaving for early shifts, but I still felt like we were conspicuous. Perhaps it was a guilty conscience that made me feel like it was very obvious that we weren’t where we were supposed to be. In truth, no one gave us a second glance.

As we drew closer to the shore, we left the rows of tenement buildings behind and entered the commercial area around the docks. There was more activity here, but both of us were out of place. We were sure to be noticed.

And, soon enough, we were. A policeman walking his beat approached us. He’d changed his course, so it was clear he’d seen us. It was too late for us to duck away or hide. Thinking quickly, I slipped my arm around Henry’s waist and leaned against him.

The policeman held his lantern up as he approached us. “May I ask what you’re doing here?” he asked. His tone was brusque and professional, but I didn’t think he sounded like he was desperately searching for a fugitive.

“I’m seeing my husband off to work,” I said. “I work nights, and he works days, so this is our time together.”

“You work at the docks?” the policeman asked, eyeing Henry skeptically. I winced inwardly. Henry’s clothes were rumpled, but they were still obviously not something a dockworker would wear.

“I’m a bookkeeper for one of the shipping lines,” Henry said.

The policeman nodded and lowered his lantern. “Very good, then. We’re being careful tonight. There’s rioting in the streets. Can’t let them get to the docks, you know.” He resumed his patrol, and we continued on our way.

“Rioting?” Henry asked softly. “I don’t suppose you know anything about that?”