Another deckling wrinkled his nose. “We don’t much steam with those belowdecks but Cook certainly sent a few off to the market.”
Virgil chivvied up at that juncture. “What ho, Lady Captain? Himself is in a tizzy and has me running all sorts of places. What’s flipped his pikelet?”
Rue sniffed. “Himself has put us all in a bit of a bind. We float out as soon as full complement is aboard.” She returned to the patient decklings. “I’m sorry, you lot, but all leave is cancelled. Plus you’ll have to spread the word to the other unluckies all over the ship. I want us ready to go as soon as may be. Double shifts and double pay if you can get us ready by sundown.”
A chorus of groans met that.
“Now, please.”
The decklings scampered off, with a little less enthusiasm than usual given the oppressive heat and curtailed fun.
Virgil turned to go about whatever business Percy had set him.
“You keep an ear to most things aboard ship, don’t you, Virgil?”
Virgil grinned.
“Who else of ours is loose in Cairo?”
Virgil considered. “Steward took a log, so Miss Tunstell should be able to get the details for you. I’d guess about half the sooties and two greasers went off to explore. Old Aggie is still flapping below, though, so we won’t fall out of the sky.”
“I certainly hope not.”
Virgil turned to go, giving her a final tidbit over his shoulder as he moved off. “And your Mr Lefoux left about an hour ago.”
“Did he, indeed? And where, exactly, did he go?”
“Search me.”
About an hour or so later, Rue went to visit Percy in his lair.
“Come to yell at me again, have you?”
“No. I think you know well enough what you’ve done.”
Percy sighed. “I do now. Rummy business. I didn’t consider it from Miss Sekhmet’s perspective. I thought her wanting to stay undisclosed was a whim.”
“Percy, she’s hundreds of years old. Does anyone with that much experience have whims any more?”
“Lord Akeldama is comprised of nothing but whims.”
“Fair point. I think it’s how he keeps going. But I never once made the mistake of thinking them trivial. He isn’t all brocades and pomade, you know. He’s still a vampire. Vampires run deep.”
Percy looked at his charts. “Consequence of being the son of a very young and very silly immortal, I forgot how the old ones operate.”
“Or you lack the necessary interpersonal empathy.”
“That’s not a very nice thing to say, Rue.”
“I’m not feeling very charitable at the moment.”
Percy looked so crestfallen at that, Rue decided to gentle her abuse. She needed him functional to fly the ship.
Footnote appeared at that juncture, intent on sniffing her shoes. Rue could sympathise. She was fond of footwear, too. She nudged him in Percy’s direction, hoping the cat might alleviate his depression.
Footnote chirruped at the academic autocratically.
Percy chucked him under the chin as ordered.
Rue explained. “I came down to find out where we are going. She never said.”
Percy pointed to a map of Africa sprawled out over a pile of books. The Nile snaked down the right-hand side. He traced the long blue line with one finger out of Egypt, through Nubia and the Sudan, and into the contested wilds around Lake Victoria.
“We’re going here, to the Source of the Nile.”
There was a march of letters across the map: unexplored. Rue felt a tinge of fear but refused to show Percy. They had travelled quite a bit in her wonderful little ship, but they had yet to leave the comparative safety of the empire’s fortified territories.
“Well,” she said, “I made a promise on the back of your mistake. Let’s hope we can survive them both.”
Percy returned to his charts. “There is a difficulty. No aetheric currents flow in that direction. Plenty of lower atmosphere wind, though. The locals have a saying: ‘sail the Nile south with the wind and north with the current’.”
“Is that what normal tourists would do?”
“Normal tourists wouldn’t go uncharted.”
“Then we drift astray.”
“You should know.”
“Percy.”
“Sorry, Lady Captain.”
“It’s not the fastest, and it’ll take more propeller – we’ll go through coal. You’re sure atmosphere is our best option?”
Percy grimaced. “It’s our only option.”
“South with the wind we go, then.”
Rue left him to it and went down to beard her ship’s second fiercest lioness in her den.
Aggie Phinkerlington was more than normally impossible.
“I’ve no idea where he scuttled off to,” was all she would say to Rue’s enquiry.
“Well, then, you had better prepare the ship for float yourself. We leave at sundown whether Quesnel Lefoux is back aboard or not.”
“Like that, is it?”
“We have an urgent mission and his private business cannot be allowed to interfere.”
“Taking it out on him, are you?”
“Oh for goodness’ sake. Taking what out?”
“Your lovers’ spat.”